#yes I plan my knitting like I plan a battle

[we-re-always-alright]

in the past 48 hours, I’ve finished two Tunisian dishcloths, 6in of my cotton/linen tank top and 5in of my cotton/linen tee I had in hibernation for a year (both sport or fingering), 5in of a hat brim and planned out two thank you packages to send to my new manager and my boss’ boss

[just-some-random-blogger]

Vanity

Aemond uncorks his bottled frustrations. You listen whilst combing his hair.

Aemond Targaryen x Reader | 700< | cw: implied targ sibs, implied marriage, gender neutral!reader, whiny!aemond, hurt/comfort-ish, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: my birthday gift for @pendragora 🫶🫶🫶 HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY LOVE I HOPE YOU LIKE IT

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @delicious-xx @deniixlovezelda

@risefallrise @slavyanskiyahui @thebullship @sa3losa @lxdyred

I groan and lift my head from my pillow. I squint at the darkness, reaching out for the lamp on the bedside.

"Go back to sleep."

"Aemond?" my voice croaks. I slowly sit up and light my lamp. From across the room, I see a long haired man changing out of his riding gear.

I hum and lean on the headboard, "how was it?"

He chucks his boots off with more force than necessary. He repeats, colder, "go back to sleep."

Needless to say I'm wide awake.

I huff and push my blanket off me. I stand and whimper at the feel of the cold floor on my bare feet. I pass looking for my slippers and simply walk towards Aemond.

He spots me by the time he's removed his tunic. He pinches the bridge of his nose and chastises me in High Valyrian.

I ignore him, and once I'm close enough, I grab his hips. I pull him towards me and undo his breeches, "and when have I ever listened to you?"

He watches as I unlace his ties. I get him pants and a shirt from his drawer, handing them to him. He begins to change. Just before I can ask him what's wrong, he tells me himself, "mother has ordered me not to join uncle in his travel."

I hum and cross my arms.

Aemond's shirt collar hangs by his shoulder. He secures his pants and scoffs, "it's not as though I was who made those plans."

"And well made plans they were, my love," I adjust his loose fitting shirt, "Lord Hightower will benefit greatly from it."

"Yes, I can-"

I push him towards the vanity.

He sits on the chair, "-only hope-"

I light the candles on the vanity.

"-the great Ser Gwayne Hightower will make good use of it."

I press my lips as I walk behind him.

He grabs the comb on the vanity top and hands it to me.

I take it from him, stroking his hair once before combing it.

Aemond crosses his arms, "mother thinks me a helpless boy with one eye."

I tilt my head and section his hair.

Aemond stares at me through the mirror. His face twists at the lack of response. He tightens his arms around himself and I finally catch the expression on his face.

I flatten my lips before kissing the crown of his head. I remove his eye patch and place it on the table. He looks at me with expectation. I clutch his cheek and comb his hair away from his face, "you know that's not true, Aemond."

He turns back to the mirror. He purses his lips and slumps on his seat.

"Has the queen ever decided on anything without reason?"

"She's afraid," he dismisses.

I knit my brows and comb my fingers through his silky hair before using the brush.

"She's afraid of Daemon."

I tuck his hair behind his ear.

"She should know not to show it." He looks up at me, "I am not. Him and his ride are no match for Vhagar and I."

I rest my hands on his shoulder momentarily.

"He would do well not to face me."

I circle behind his chair and continue brushing his tresses, "he would."

He straightens up and rests his hands on his lap, "Caraxes is no match for Vhagar. She is nearly twice the wyrm's size, and has seen the fires of the Conquest."

"Indeed, my love," I part his hair, placing the ones I've gone over to his chest.

He tilts his head, "a wise warrior would know when to pick his battles."

"A wise warrior would know when to pick his battles."

By the time I was finished with his hair, he too was finished and was no longer as tightly wound as when he'd arrived. I place the comb back on the vanity and he stands.

I look him once over with a soft smile. I swipe his chin with my thumb, "pretty."

He brings an arm around me, pulling me in to kiss my temple.

I press my hands on his chest and urge him back, "off to bed with you then. I'm exhausted."

"Mmm," he leans down and kisses my neck. He mutters in High Valyrian, "when have I ever listened to you?"

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

But do you love me?

a/n this just came out of nowhere. Had a little break and my brain said Azriel. So, I said yes in return.

summary: Azriel and oc having silly conversations before falling asleep. Or more like Azriel dealing with a slight sleep deprived lover.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It was late, and Azriel was more than thankful that he had a chance to slip away from his family and spend the night on the outskirts of Velaris, tangled up in his lover's embrace. The relationship was fairly new. Azriel had fought his heart and feelings as if it were a battle of survival for a handful of months. He denied the fuzzy feelings until he was blue. He crushed the delicate butterflies every chance that he got. Waiting for you to leave. To come to your senses and realize that he wasn’t worthy of your love.

But you stayed. Stayed and fought back. Not letting him fully push you out. Always showing up. Always remember the little things that Azriel enjoyed. From knitted sweaters to lavender tea. From slightly open windows at night to lemon sugar cookies. You let him set the pace with almost everything. Physical touch was a touchy subject, no pun intended, for the spymaster, so you let him make the first move. Get familiar with what he liked. Yet Azriel was convinced that he was never going to forget the smile on your face when he finally reached to hold your hand after your tenth date. The sky might have been full of stars that night, but your eyes shone brighter then the brightest start in the sky ever could.

Now the spymaster let out a content sigh at the feeling of you pressing against his chest. The hour was rather late, but since both of you had no plans, neither of you cared about it. But it did feel heavenly to finally lay between plush sheets after a long day. Azriel was a step from slipping into blissful sleep when he felt you turning in his embrace. Your palms pressed into his bare chest as you moved to hover over him slightly.

The shadowsinger opened one of his eyes lazily. You were biting your lip. A sign that something was still brewing in your head. Azriel tried to suppress his smile at the sight of you like that, slowly reaching to push some loose strands of hair behind your air.

“Out with it, my love," he muttered softly, watching as your eyes landed on him, instantly sparking way brighter. “This is serious, by the way," you warned him instantly, making Azriel frown slightly. “I never said that it wasn’t. What’s keeping you up?" He shifted his body slightly as well, wanting to have a good look at your face.

You watched him for a heartbeat before muttering, “Would you still love me if I was a worm?” Azriel stilled for a moment, letting your words sink in. For a moment, he thought that maybe he had heard you wrong, but the determination on your face washed that thought away.

“Yes, sweetheart, I would still love you," he reassured you, but you shook your head, muttering, “No, don’t think about me as in me; think about me as a worm," you added in a serious tone. Azriel bit the inside of his cheek, “Yeah, I think you would make a pretty cute worm." He nodded his head, making sure to keep his face straight.

“What about if I was a dust bunny?", you practically cut into Azriel’s last statement, making the male let out a low chuckle, but since your mind was working faster than Azriel could pull himself to answer, your palms hit his chest in excitement as you muttered, "No, I have a better question; do you think butterflies are intelligent?”.

That sent Azriel into a full-body laugh. He simply couldn’t contain his laugh anymore. It’s not so much that he found it silly and pointless. It’s the way you were determined to get an answer as if it determined the most important part of your life.

“I'm serious, Azriel," you groaned, clearly not as pleased with your boyfriend’s reaction. Azriel nodded his head, still smiling. "Yes, I think they are." You nodded alongside him, "But... Why?”. Azriel bit his lip, trying not to fall into another fit of giggles as he muttered, “Go to sleep, baby." Tugging at your arm, Azriel hoped to get you closer to him once more. But you had other plans and turned to flop down on your back next to him instead. "No, how will I sleep now?", you huffed, raising your hands in frustration.

"Love," Azriel pleaded. It was entertaining to watch you in your slightly sleep-deprived form. Not to mention that it got him thinking about how a night after Rita’s would look if this was how your brain worked when you were tired. “Where do they fit their brain?", You tapped your finger against your forehead, frowning slightly. “Oh, Mother, please," Azriel growled, turning to flop right onto your chest. Aware of his size and weight, but enough to keep you in one place. And most importantly, to keep you close to him. Azriel gently nuzzled against your neck, opting to leave a kiss or two as he went. And was more than happy to feel your hands slowly moving to scratch the back of his neck as your fingers tangled in his hair.

"But..." you muttered after a moment. “Do you love me?” Your voice was barely a whisper. "Yes," Azriel muttered again, pulling back to brush his nose against yours before leaning closer to capture your lips in a kiss. He knew that, for the most part, you had been anxious to date him too. And even if this was all fun and games, Azriel couldn’t help but wonder if, in a way, this was your nagging doubts needing that extra reassurance.

“But do you?", your delicate gaze searched him. Azriel crooked his head to the side. “I just said yes. My answer hasn't changed, love," his fingers gently brushed against your cheek. “But you said it without you knowing..." Your voice died down as you searched for the right words. A slight frown paints your face. “Without what?", Azriel smiled at you, waiting patiently for you to pick up your battle in your head.

“Without the bedazzle," you crinkled your fingers, narrowing your eyes. “A what?", Azriel was left frowning once more. “The umpf," you urged, making tiny expressions with your hands. Azriel let out a low sigh. “You are losing the plot,” He moved one of his arms around your middle, pulling your body closer to him as he turned to lay back on his back. “Go to sleep," he muttered against your ear.

But your peaceful stillness lasted no longer than a heartbeat. “That was mean," you pouted at your boyfriend. "Love", Azriel grunted as you pushed against his chest to sit up. His fingers tried to hold you back, but you batted his hands away. “Naah, now I don't want to sleep facing you," you said, crossing your arms over your chest. Trying to keep a serious face even if the look on Azriel’s face was worthy of a chuckle. You watched as he calculated his next answer before muttering,

“Are you about to start your cycle?”, the moment a gasp left your lips, Azriel knew that he shouldn’t have. Both his and Rhys’s mothers had drilled it into their heads that one should never ask females questions regarding their cycles, especially ones that imply their behavior being affected by it.

“Azriel, I will suffocate you in your sleep”, you scrunched up your nose right as Azriel leaned over to tackle you into the plush sheets, once again wrapping you in his warmth. You, however, didn’t give up the fight, wiggling in his embrace. I tried to huff and puff, but soon the sounds turned into laughter. “Stop moving around," Azriel chimed as his fingers danced along your ribcage. “You are squishing me," you wheezed, your eyes filling up with tears. Happy tears. Azriel kissed them away one by one. “Give up the fight, darling," he mussed, “and just go to sleep, please." Azriel chuckled as you tapped against his chest, taking in deep breaths to catch your breath.

“But do you love me?", you bit your lip, trying to suppress yet another chuckle when Azriel dropped his head back with a growl. Exposing his toned neck. Making his ink-covered muscles flex. Before he narrowed his eyes at you. “Yes, yes, and yes," he stated. “Even if you were a worm, a slug, a bird, a boat, or a sticky bun," Azriel listed one thing after another. “I love you now and most definitely will love you in another lifetime." His hazel eyes were full of affection as he spoke. "Screw that," he huffed, leaning in to press his forehead against yours, “I will love you in all the universes, all the worlds." The shadow singer watched as you bit your lip, trying to suppress the wobble in your chin. “Even if you’re a wildflower in the field and I’m the morning breeze passing through, I will still love you”, Azriel’s words were met with a shaky exhale. And then both your legs and arms were messily wrapped around him as you pulled him closer. “Careful, or I will crush you," Azriel chuckled, trying to keep some of his weight off you, but you didn’t seem to mind. “You are the sweetest, most precious male I have ever met," you muttered into his embrace. “Doubt that..." Azriel had begun to object to the fact that you had called him precious, but your finger had found his lips before he could say anything else. “I love you, and to me, you will always be just Azriel," you said, “My Azriel with a heart of gold."

[reidmarieprentiss]

Hometown Glory

Summary: Moving back to your hometown was never your plan, and neither was running into the class clown Chip Taylor. But everything happens for a reason, right?

Pairing: Chip Taylor x nurse fem!reader

Category: fluff, hurt/comfort, angst

Warnings/Includes: brief domestic violence (not reader), fights, blood/cuts/gore, alcohol consumption, drunk side character, happy ending, poor sweet baby Chip going through it

Word count: 10.8k

a/n: i love chip so bad, he doesn't deserve anything bad that happened to him :( i'm really trying to get back into my writing headspace thank you all for being so patient with me <3333

main masterlist

You were finally a registered nurse, having recently finished your residency and finally securing your spot as a full-time hospital employee. After a long, grueling shift, you decide to swing by a convenience store to fill up your gas tank and treat yourself to something sweet before heading home.

The fluorescent lights of the store are oddly comforting as you hum a tune under your breath, scanning the aisles for the perfect snack. Your moment of quiet is interrupted by the chime of the bell above the entrance door.

“Sir?” the cashier’s voice calls out, tinged with concern. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” comes the reply, though it’s far from convincing. The man’s voice is low and strained. “Yeah, I’m fine. Do you, uh, have any band-aids?”

“Uh—um, yes, but... you should really see a doctor—”

“No,” the man interjects firmly, his tone impatient. “I just need band-aids. Where are they?”

The cashier hesitates before pointing him toward an aisle, still looking unsure. Your curiosity gets the better of you, and you abandon your search for a snack, rounding the corner to catch a glimpse of the man in need of first aid.

Your breath catches in your throat. “Chip?” you blurt out, incredulous. You can’t believe your eyes.

The man turns to face you, and you gasp. His face is a mess—covered in blood, cuts, and bruises. His disheveled appearance sends alarm bells ringing in your head.

“Jesus, Chip!” you exclaim, your voice filled with both shock and concern. “What the hell happened to you?”

His brows knit together, his expression shifting from confusion to discomfort. “Who—uh, how do you know me?” he asks, his voice cautious.

“Huh?” You tilt your head, studying his battered face with worry. “Chip, it’s me—Y/N. Y/N Y/L? We went to high school together.”

Chip blinked a few times, his bloodshot eyes squinting as he tried to focus on your face. His body language, even through the fog of pain, softened just a little as he registered your name.

"Y/N? Holy shit," he repeated, his voice raspy, either from exhaustion or something worse. He took a shaky breath, his chest rising and falling unevenly.

You stepped closer, your nurse instincts kicking into overdrive as you scanned his injuries. Blood trickled from a cut above his eyebrow, smearing down the side of his face. His knuckles were raw, and a nasty gash across his forearm oozed blood onto his torn sleeve. You could see bruising already forming along his cheekbone, and his lip was split.

"Chip, you look like you got hit by a truck. What happened?" you demanded, your voice full of concern.

"It's nothing," he muttered, brushing off your worry with a weak wave of his hand. He turned his attention to the shelf of first aid supplies, scanning for the bandaids as though they could fix everything. "I just need some bandaids, that's all."

"Bandaids? Are you serious?" You crossed your arms, a mixture of exasperation and worry bubbling in your chest. "Chip, you look like you need a hospital. Not bandaids."

He winced, his eyes darting back to you. "I don't need a hospital, okay? I just... got into a little fight. It's not a big deal."

"A little fight? Chip, you look like you lost a battle with a bear," you shot back, stepping even closer now, invading his personal space in that way only someone truly worried could get away with.

Chip’s attempt at a smirk faltered as he winced again, his injuries clearly causing him more pain than he wanted to let on. "Well, the other guy looks worse," he mumbled, his attempt at bravado falling flat under your sharp gaze.

"Great, you're still sarcastic," you said, rolling your eyes. "Come on, let me look at you."

"What? No. I'm fine." He started to back away, but you reached out and grabbed his uninjured arm, your grip firm but not harsh.

"Chip, I’m a nurse. If you don’t let me help you, you’ll probably pass out right here in this aisle. So unless you want the cashier to call an ambulance—which, trust me, she’s seconds away from doing—just sit down and let me take care of this."

He hesitated, glancing around the nearly empty store, clearly torn. His pride wrestled with the reality of his situation, the bruises and cuts screaming louder than his ego. Finally, he let out a resigned sigh.

"Fine. But can we go somewhere else? I don’t want to make a scene," he mumbled, his voice low and almost pleading.

"Too late for that," you said, raising an eyebrow at the cashier who was still nervously watching the two of you.

"Please?" Chip grumbled, his tone softening just enough to sound genuine.

You sighed, relenting. "Sure, Chip. Come on." You quickly paid for your items, tossing them into a plastic bag, and led the way out to the parking lot.

Chip followed you out of the store reluctantly, his steps slow and uneven. You kept a close eye on him, glancing over your shoulder as you reached your car. His face was pale, and you could see the effort it took him to stay upright.

You glanced at him as he shuffled behind you, clearly in no condition to walk far. "Did you drive?" you asked, though you suspected you already knew the answer.

As you unlocked the doors, you motioned towards the passenger seat. "Get in," you instructed, your tone leaving no room for argument.

He hesitated for a split second, his pride clearly still putting up a fight, but the exhaustion and pain finally won out. He slumped into the passenger seat, letting out a low groan as he tried to find a position that didn’t make him wince.

You slid into the driver’s seat and started the car, casting him a sideways glance. "You really should’ve gone straight to the hospital," you said, your voice softer now that the two of you were away from prying eyes.

Chip gave a half-hearted shrug, wincing at the movement. "Yeah, well, hospitals ask a lot of questions. I wasn’t really in the mood for that."

You frowned, the wheels in your mind turning. "What kind of questions are you trying to avoid, Chip? Did you get into some kind of trouble?"

His jaw tightened, and he avoided your gaze, staring out the window instead. "It’s complicated," he muttered.

"Complicated?" You scoffed, pulling out of the parking lot. "Chip, you’re sitting in my car, bleeding and bruised, looking like you went twelve rounds with a heavyweight champion. I think you owe me an explanation."

He sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I didn’t ask for your help, Y/N."

"Too bad," you shot back, your voice sharper than you intended. "Because you’re getting it whether you like it or not. Now, are you going to tell me what happened, or do I have to guess?"

Chip glanced at you, his expression softening just a fraction. He seemed to weigh his options before finally speaking. "I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, okay? Got into a fight with some guys who didn’t take kindly to me being there."

"Where’s 'there'?" you pressed, your grip tightening on the steering wheel.

He hesitated again, his lips pressing into a thin line. "It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I'm fine. Or at least I will be."

You let out a frustrated sigh but decided not to push further. "Fine. We’ll deal with the details later. Right now, I’m taking you to my place so I can clean you up properly."

Chip’s head snapped towards you, his eyebrows furrowing. "Your place? No, no way. That’s not happening."

"And why not?" you challenged, arching a brow at him.

"Because it’s... weird," he muttered, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

"Weird?" You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound tinged with disbelief. "Chip, you’re sitting here covered in blood, and you think going to my place to clean up is the weird part? You’re unbelievable."

He muttered something under his breath, but he didn’t argue further. Instead, he slouched deeper into the seat, clearly too tired to keep up the fight.

The rest of the drive was quiet, the only sound coming from the low hum of the engine and the occasional hiss of pain from Chip as you hit a bump in the road.

When you finally pulled up to your apartment, you parked and turned to him. "Come on, let’s get you inside."

Chip grumbled something inaudible but followed you out of the car, his movements slow and deliberate. As you led him up the stairs, you couldn’t help but shake your head.

"How do you always manage to get yourself into situations like this?" you muttered.

"Talent," he replied with a weak grin.

"Yeah, well, your 'talent' is going to land you in serious trouble one day," you retorted, unlocking your door and stepping inside.

Chip leaned against the doorframe, his eyes scanning your apartment. "Nice place," he said, his voice laced with sarcasm.

"Save the commentary for when you’re not dripping blood on my floor," you shot back, motioning for him to sit on the couch.

He chuckled softly, wincing as he eased himself down. "You’ve gotten feisty, Y/N."

"And you’ve gotten dumber," you replied, grabbing your first aid kit.

As you knelt in front of him, unpacking the supplies, Chip watched you quietly. For a moment, he seemed to forget his pain, his gaze softening as he took you in.

"Thanks," he said quietly, his voice breaking the silence.

You glanced up at him, surprised by the sincerity in his tone. "Don’t thank me yet. You’re going to hate me when I start cleaning those wounds."

He smirked, the faintest glimmer of his old charm shining through. "I already do."

"Good," you replied, unable to hide the small smile tugging at your lips. "That makes this easier."

You grabbed a clean towel and some antiseptic from the first aid kit, shooting Chip a pointed look as you settled on the coffee table in front of him. "Alright, this is going to sting like hell. No whining allowed."

Chip raised an eyebrow, his lopsided grin making a reappearance despite his injuries. "When did you get so bossy? You used to be so sweet."

"And you used to be less of a shit talker," you shot back, soaking the towel with antiseptic. "Guess we both changed."

His smirk faltered as you pressed the towel against the gash on his arm. He hissed through his teeth, his fingers gripping the edge of the couch. "Damn, Y/N. Trying to kill me?"

"Not my fault you’re a baby," you teased, your voice light but your hands steady. "Maybe if you’d gone to the hospital like a normal person, someone else could’ve done this for you."

He chuckled, though it was strained. "Yeah, but they wouldn’t have looked this good doing it."

You paused for a moment, your eyes flicking up to meet his. His grin was still there, faint but mischievous, and you felt your cheeks heat despite yourself. "Flattery isn’t going to make this hurt any less," you muttered, turning your attention back to his arm.

"I’m just saying," he continued, his tone playful now, "if I’d known my high school classmate turned into some kind of Florence Nightingale, I’d have gotten into trouble a lot sooner."

You snorted, dabbing at the cut with perhaps a little more pressure than necessary. "Florence Nightingale would have let you bleed out for being this annoying."

Chip winced, but he didn’t stop talking. "Annoying? Come on, Y/N. I’m charming. You used to have a thing for charm."

You rolled your eyes, fighting the small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I had a thing for Pete’s charm, Chip. And you’re about one bad pickup line away from me calling an ambulance to take you out of my apartment."

He laughed, the sound genuine despite his discomfort. "Okay, okay. I’ll behave. But seriously, thanks for this. I mean it."

"Don’t thank me yet," you said, leaning in to inspect the cut on his eyebrow. Your knee brushed against his, and you felt his gaze shift, watching you more intently now. "I still have to clean this mess on your face. That’s going to be even worse."

"Yeah?" His voice was quieter now, tinged with something you couldn’t quite place. "I trust you."

You stilled for a moment, your breath catching at the sincerity in his tone. Meeting his eyes, you found something there that wasn’t entirely playful—something softer, more vulnerable. The moment lingered, the air between you suddenly heavier.

Shaking off the feeling, you forced a smirk and reached for another antiseptic wipe. "That’s your first mistake," you said lightly, hoping to break the tension.

Chip grinned again, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "If this is what a mistake feels like, I think I’ll take my chances."

“Was that a pick up line?” You narrowed your eyes at Chip before you focused on cleaning his eyebrow, trying not to think about how close you were to him. His breath was warm on your cheek, and you couldn’t ignore the way your heart picked up its pace. This was Chip, for God’s sake. The same Chip who’d spent half of high school cracking jokes in the back of class and charming his way both in and out of trouble.

"Doesn’t hurt as much as I thought it would," he said after a moment, breaking the silence.

"See? Told you I’m good at this," you replied, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye.

"Good? More like amazing," he said, his grin widening as he leaned back against the couch. His eyes studied you carefully, flickering with something more contemplative than before. "Can’t believe you came back here after college."

"Why’s that?" you asked, keeping your focus on cleaning the stubborn cut near his cheekbone. You avoided meeting his gaze, sensing the weight behind his words.

"I don’t know," Chip said with a small shrug, though his voice held a quiet sincerity. "You always seemed like you were going to do bigger and better things. You had that spark, you know? Like you were meant for something more."

"Yeah, well," you murmured, letting out a soft sigh as you dabbed at the wound. "I wasn’t going to come back. But… things change."

His brow furrowed slightly at your tone, the playful energy between you dimming. "What changed?" he asked, his voice softer now, curiosity tinged with genuine concern.

You held your breath, your hands momentarily stilling as you thought about how to answer. The memories came rushing back, sharp and vivid, but you pushed them down, trying to keep your voice steady. "Mom passed," you said finally, the words quiet but firm. "Dad needed help."

The room fell silent for a beat, the hum of your apartment’s air conditioning the only sound. Chip’s expression shifted, the teasing glint in his eyes replaced with something far more serious. "Y/N, I… I didn’t know. I’m sorry."

You shrugged, forcing yourself to keep busy as you finished cleaning the last of his wounds. "It’s okay. It was a while ago now. You know how it is—life happens, and you just… deal with it."

Chip nodded slowly, his gaze unwavering as he watched you work. "Yeah. But still, I’m sorry you had to go through that."

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat, offering him a small, tight smile. "Thanks, Chip." You stood up, tossing the used antiseptic wipes into the trash. "Alright, you’re all patched up. Try not to pick any more fights for at least a week, okay?"

He chuckled, though the sound was quieter than before. "I’ll do my best. But no promises."

You rolled your eyes, grateful for the return of his humor. "Seriously, Chip. You should try and take care of yourself. I won’t always be here to clean up your mess."

He grinned, the warmth in his expression taking some of the weight off the conversation. "Good to know you’ve still got that fire in you. Some things don’t change, huh?"

You smirked, shaking your head. "Maybe. But some things do."

His gaze lingered on you for a moment, and you felt the air shift again, a quiet intensity settling between you.

"Yeah," Chip said softly, his voice carrying a weight that made your chest tighten. "Some things do."

—

You sent Chip on his way that night after you finished cleaning him up. Something about him lingered in your mind, pulling at threads of memory and curiosity. He wasn’t the same Chip you remembered from high school—not entirely, anyway. Back then, he was the class clown, always cracking jokes and pulling pranks, his antics loud enough to mask whatever deeper, darker truths he thought no one could see. You noticed, of course. You always did.

You’d thought he was cute back then, with his messy hair and crooked smile, but now? Now, he was handsome in a way that made you pause—a rugged, lived-in kind of attractiveness that spoke to years of experiences, good and bad.

In high school, you never gave much thought to what might’ve been. You’d always had a boyfriend back then—Pete Welsh. Pete, with his soft-spoken kindness and steadfast loyalty, had been the sweetest guy you’d ever known. But Pete never wanted to leave Amarillo. He was content with the small-town life, dreaming of raising a family on the same quiet streets where he grew up.

You, on the other hand, had dreams of moving far, far away. The big city called to you with its bright lights and endless possibilities. But then… Mom got sick.

Everything shifted. Plans for the future faded, replaced with long nights by her bedside and endless days balancing work and care. Amarillo, for all its limitations, became your entire world.

And now, here was Chip, standing on your front steps with that same crooked smile but a different air about him. It made you wonder what had changed for him in all these years—and what was still the same.

“What are you doing here, Chip?” you asked, exasperation clear in your tone as you stood in the doorway. Your arms crossed instinctively, but your gaze softened as it traveled over him.

He looked down, avoiding your eyes as his hands fidgeted, wringing together awkwardly. “I—uh, got kinda… cut,” he admitted with a sheepish laugh. The sound was weak, forced, and trailed off quickly as he winced, one hand clutching his side.

Your eyes immediately darted to the hand pressed against his ribs. “Cut?” you echoed, your exasperation melting into concern. “Chip, what did you—”

“Can you help me out?” he interrupted, his voice a mixture of embarrassment and hope. His lips pulled into a half-smile, trying to diffuse the tension, but the faint pallor of his face betrayed him.

You sighed, already stepping back to let him in, your mind racing with questions. “Fine. Get in here before you bleed all over the porch.”

He shuffled past you, careful not to brush too close, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his steps were slightly uneven, his posture hunched just enough to protect his injured side.

“Let me see,” you said, your voice firmer now as you pointed to the kitchen. “Sit down, and don’t try to charm your way out of explaining this.”

Chip shot you a lopsided grin despite the situation, but he obeyed, lowering himself carefully onto the nearest chair. “I’d never dream of it.”

But of course, he would dream of it. Chip expertly dodged every single question you threw at him, deflecting with vague answers and cheeky grins that only served to wear down your patience further.

“Chip,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration. “You can’t keep showing up here, okay? What if you’re in real danger and I’m not home?”

“You’re home right now,” he countered with a sheepish grin, his tone light and teasing, as if his very presence wasn’t bending every boundary you’d ever set.

“You got lucky,” you shot back, your voice sharper now, though the flicker of concern in your eyes softened the words.

His grin faltered for a moment, his gaze darting to the floor before returning to you. “Yeah, I guess I did.” His voice was quieter now, almost thoughtful, like he wasn’t just talking about tonight.

You shook your head, trying not to let his sudden shift tug too hard at your heartstrings. “Seriously, Chip. You can’t keep doing this. What’s going on? Why do you keep coming to me?”

For a moment, you thought he might actually answer, his mouth opening as if to speak. But then he just shook his head and leaned back in the chair, the grin creeping back onto his face like armor. “Guess I just like the company.”

You stared at him, equal parts exasperated and worried. “Chip—”

“Don’t worry about me, sweetheart,” he interrupted, giving you a wink that did nothing to ease your concerns. “I’m tougher than I look.”

You sighed again, the weight of his stubbornness settling heavily on your chest. “One of these days, your luck’s going to run out, Chip,” you muttered, turning to grab the first aid supplies.

“Maybe,” he replied, his voice quieter this time. “But not tonight.”

—

It kept up like this. Chip kept showing up, like clockwork, and you—against all odds—were always magically home.

It was uncanny, almost unsettling, as if he had some sixth sense for your presence. No matter the time, no matter the day, he’d appear at your door, sometimes with a scrape, sometimes a bruise, and sometimes just that lopsided grin that made you want to roll your eyes and smile at the same time.

And despite your best efforts to keep your walls up, you always let him in.

Even when you answered the door with your arms crossed and an exasperated sigh. Even when you scolded him for not going to the hospital or told him he was too reckless for his own good. Even when you warned him, time and time again, that this wasn’t sustainable—that he couldn’t keep running to you like this.

But you still opened the door, every single time.

Maybe it was the way he looked at you, a mixture of hope and mischief that felt impossible to ignore. Or maybe it was the quiet moments in between—the ones where he let his guard down, even if just for a fleeting second, and you could see the boy he used to be, buried beneath the man life had clearly roughed up.

Whatever it was, you let him in, even when you told yourself you wouldn’t. And Chip? He kept coming back, as if he knew. As if he could sense that, no matter what you said, you’d never actually turn him away.

You sat across from Chip at the kitchen table, the two of you nursing mugs of coffee long after the sun had gone down. The evening had settled into an easy rhythm, the kind where conversation flowed naturally, unhurried by the clock.

“Man, high school feels like it was a hundred years ago,” you said with a laugh, swirling the last bit of coffee in your mug.

“Pete Welsh and you were practically glued at the hip back then,” Chip chimed in, leaning back in his chair with a teasing grin. “I thought for sure you two were going to get married and have that perfect little white-picket-fence life.”

You raised an eyebrow, mirroring his smirk. “Pete Welsh, huh? I haven’t heard that name in a while.”

Chip chuckled, tilting his head. “Mhm. Mr. Perfect Hair and Letterman Jacket? What happened to him, anyway?”

You shrugged, a wry smile crossing your face. “Last I heard, he’s still in Amarillo. Married some sweet girl he met at church, has a couple of kids now. He’s doing great.”

Chip nodded, a playful glint in his eye. “Sounds about right. Bet he’s still mowing his lawn in crisp khakis and a polo shirt, huh?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Oh, absolutely. That’s Pete to a T.”

Chip’s grin softened slightly, his gaze lingering on you. “You ever think about how different your life would’ve been if you’d stayed with him? Settled down here, had that picket fence and all?”

You paused, swirling your coffee as the thought settled in. “Honestly? No. Pete’s a great guy, but he always wanted to stay, and I… I needed to see what else was out there. Staying in Amarillo would’ve been the easy choice, but it wouldn’t have been the right one for me.”

Chip hummed, nodding slowly. “Makes sense. You were always the type to chase something bigger.”

You smiled at that, tilting your head. “And what about you? You’ve done plenty of chasing yourself, haven’t you?”

He laughed, but it was softer now, almost wistful. “Yeah, I guess. Though I think I was always chasing the wrong things. Or, you know… the wrong people.”

There was a weight to his words, and the way his eyes met yours made your breath hitch. “What do you mean?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Chip hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean… I spent all of high school with this dumb crush on you, watching you and Pete from the sidelines...”

You blinked, caught completely off guard. “Chip…”

He shrugged, his smile crooked and a little shy. “It’s not a big deal. You were way out of my league back then. Still are.”

Your chest tightened. “You never said anything.”

“Would it have mattered?” he asked, his voice teasing but his eyes vulnerable.

You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. A mix of emotions swirled in your chest—nostalgia, surprise, and something undeniably warm.

“I don’t know,” you admitted softly, meeting his gaze.

Chip smirked, leaning forward on his elbows. “Guess we’ll never know, huh?”

You laughed lightly, the moment settling between you with a weight that neither of you was ready to unpack.

—

“Goddammit, Chip!” Liza screamed, her voice shaking with fury as she grabbed the nearest heavy object—a ceramic vase—and hurled it at him. It shattered against the wall, narrowly missing his head. “We need money for fucking rent!”

Chip flinched, shrinking into himself as he backed up against the kitchen counter. His hands raised instinctively in defense, his voice stumbling over itself. “I—I know, Liza, I’m sorry. Jo—John said he’d have more work for me soon. I’m trying, okay?”

“Trying?” Liza’s laugh was sharp and bitter, slicing through the tension like a knife. She took a step closer, her eyes blazing with anger. “Well, you’re not trying hard enough! Maybe if you weren’t such a fucking moron, you could get a real job! You ever think about that, genius?”

Chip looked away, his shoulders slumping further under the weight of her words. “I’m doing the best I can,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible, the frustration and shame threatening to choke him.

“Well, your ‘best’ isn’t good enough,” she snapped, her hands gesturing wildly. “Do you think the landlord’s gonna take your excuses as payment? Do you think I’m gonna keep putting up with this shit? Get your act together, Chip, or we’re both screwed!”

Chip swallowed hard, his chest tightening as he struggled to find something to say that wouldn’t make things worse. But deep down, he knew—whatever he said wouldn’t matter. Liza’s anger had reached a boiling point, and he was the easiest target.

“I’ll figure it out,” he said quietly, though the words felt hollow even to him.

“You better,” Liza hissed, glaring at him one last time before storming out of the room, leaving behind the broken vase and a silence that felt heavier than anything she could have thrown.

Chip stood there for a moment, staring at the shards on the floor, his jaw tight as he tried to push down the familiar ache in his chest. Then, with a heavy sigh, he grabbed a broom and started sweeping, the weight of Liza’s words settling deep into his bones.

—

The two of you were sitting on the worn-out couch in your living room, the kind of night that didn’t need anything special to feel perfect. Chip had just told a ridiculous story about one of his old "get-rich-quick schemes," and you were laughing so hard your sides hurt.

“Oh my god, Chip,” you said between giggles, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye. “How do you even come up with this stuff? Did you seriously think selling glow-in-the-dark socks was going to make you a millionaire?”

“Hey,” he said, trying to look indignant but failing miserably as a grin tugged at his lips. “The market research was solid. I just didn’t account for, you know… shipping costs.”

You burst out laughing again, shaking your head in disbelief. “You’re unbelievable!” you teased, and in a playful burst of energy, you gave him a light punch on the shoulder.

The moment shifted instantly. Chip flinched, his body jerking back like he’d been hit much harder. His grin disappeared, replaced by a fleeting look of alarm that he tried to mask as quickly as it came.

Your laughter died in your throat, your hand frozen mid-air as your brain tried to process what just happened. “Chip?” you said softly, concern creeping into your voice.

He forced a laugh, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Sorry, reflex,” he said quickly, rubbing his shoulder even though your punch had been more of a tap. “Guess I’m just jumpy today.”

You didn’t buy it. Your brows furrowed as you tilted your head, studying him carefully. “Chip… did I hurt you?”

“No, no,” he said, waving you off, his voice too quick, too dismissive. “It’s nothing, really. Just caught me off guard, that’s all.”

“Don’t lie to me,” you said, your tone firm but gentle. “You flinched like I was about to deck you. What’s going on?”

Chip sighed, his shoulders sagging as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He didn’t meet your gaze, instead staring down at his hands as he fidgeted nervously. “It’s… it’s nothing you need to worry about,” he said quietly.

Your chest tightened at the vulnerability in his voice. Slowly, you reached out, placing a hand on his knee, offering a touch of comfort. “Hey,” you said softly, your voice steady and calm. “It’s me. You can talk to me, you know?”

“I said it’s nothing, okay!” Chip snapped, his voice sharp as he shoved your hand off his knee.

The movement startled you, and you flinched, your eyes widening. For a moment, the room felt too small, the air thick with tension. You weren’t used to this—being yelled at by the sweet, goofy man who had spent the last hour making you laugh.

You pulled back slightly, your hand hovering uncertainly in your lap. “Chip…” you began softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

His face fell almost instantly, the anger and frustration draining away as quickly as it had come. He ran a hand through his hair, his shoulders slumping under the weight of regret. “Shit,” he muttered, his voice cracking. “I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry.”

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breathing. “I wasn’t trying to push you,” you said gently, though your voice trembled slightly. “I just—”

“I know,” he interrupted, his voice thick with guilt. He looked at you then, his eyes filled with remorse. “I didn’t mean to yell. I just… I don’t know how to talk about this stuff, okay? I’m sorry.”

You studied him for a moment, the tension in your chest softening as you saw the pain etched across his face. Slowly, you nodded, your voice tender as you said, “It’s okay, Chip. But you don’t have to do this alone. You don’t have to carry it all by yourself.”

He sighed heavily, his hands rubbing over his face. “It’s not that easy,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

“I know it’s not,” you replied, leaning forward slightly, your tone quiet but steady. “But I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, the weight of your words settling over him. Then, finally, he nodded, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Thanks,” he said softly, his voice barely audible.

You gave him a small, tentative smile, silently hoping he’d let you in someday. Until then, you’d wait, no matter how long it took.

“How about we take a walk? Clear our heads?” you suggest softly, breaking the heavy silence that had settled between you.

Chip looks at you for a moment, his expression unreadable, then nods. Without another word, the two of you step outside, the cool night air brushing against your skin. You walk side by side down the quiet street, your footsteps the only sound breaking the stillness.

For a while, neither of you says anything. The silence isn’t uncomfortable, but it’s heavy, like both of you are waiting for the other to speak. Finally, Chip breaks it.

“I must look like a real winner, huh?” he says, his tone self-effacing, his words laced with a bitter humor that makes your heart ache.

You glance at him, his profile barely visible in the dim glow of a streetlamp. “What do you mean?”

He huffs out a laugh, the sound quiet and almost bitter. Gently, he nudges his shoulder into yours, a small, tentative gesture. “First, I need you to clean me up. Over and over. And now I can’t even make it through one chat without ruining it.”

“Chip…” you say softly, shaking your head. “You didn’t ruin anything.”

He scoffs, shoving his hands into his pockets as he kicks at a loose pebble on the sidewalk. “Didn’t I? I yelled at you. You didn’t deserve that.”

“No, I didn’t,” you admit, your honesty making him glance at you sharply. “But I’m still here, aren’t I?”

Chip stops walking for a moment, looking down at you as if searching for something in your expression. “Yeah,” he says after a pause, his voice quieter. “You are.”

You offer him a small, tentative smile, your hands brushing together as you both start walking again. “We all have bad days, Chip. It doesn’t mean you’re a lost cause.”

He shakes his head, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in a half-smile. “You always know what to say, don’t you?”

“Not always,” you admit, nudging him lightly. “But I figure as long as you keep showing up, I’ll keep trying.”

Chip looks at you then, something soft and unreadable in his eyes. For the first time that night, the tension in his shoulders seems to ease just a little. “Thanks,” he murmurs, his voice so low you almost don’t catch it.

You don’t respond right away, letting the moment hang in the cool night air. Instead, you glance up at the stars, hoping he feels even half as much comfort in your presence as you do in his.

—

Chip doesn’t come around for a few weeks after that night, and though you tried not to worry, the silence gnawed at you. When he finally shows up, it’s worse than you ever imagined.

The knock at your door is soft, almost hesitant. When you open it, the sight of him makes your stomach drop. He’s standing there with a deep gash running along his cheek, blood crusted at the edges, and his eyes red and puffy like he hasn’t slept in days.

“Chip!” you gasp, your heart pounding. “What happened? Get in here, now.”

He tries to offer a weak smile, but it falters under the weight of whatever he’s carrying. “It’s not that bad,” he mutters, wincing as he speaks.

“Not that bad?” you echo, incredulous. “You’ve got blood on your face, Chip. Sit down before you fall over.”

Without waiting for him to argue, you guide him to the bathroom, your hands firm but gentle as you steer him. He sinks down onto the edge of the tub, his shoulders slumping, looking like he’d rather be anywhere but here.

You position yourself between his legs, tilting his chin up with careful fingers so you can get a better look at the wound. “Hold still,” you murmur, your tone softer now.

He exhales shakily, his breath warm against your wrist. “Sorry,” he says quietly, his voice thick with guilt.

“Don’t apologize,” you say, grabbing a clean washcloth and wetting it under the faucet. “Just tell me what happened.”

Chip hesitates, his eyes darting away from yours. “It’s nothing,” he mumbles, his hands gripping the edge of the tub tightly.

“It’s not nothing,” you counter, your voice steady but firm as you press the damp cloth gently against his cheek. He flinches but doesn’t pull away. “You don’t just show up with a gash like this for no reason.”

He lets out a heavy sigh, his jaw clenching under your gentle touch. “Liza and I got into it again,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “She… she had a bottle. Things got out of hand.”

Your hands freeze mid-motion as the name registers. “Liza?” you repeat, stepping back slightly, the washcloth dangling in your hand. “Who’s Liza?”

Chip’s eyes widen briefly, like he hadn’t meant to let the name slip. He swallows hard, his gaze dropping to the tiled floor. “She’s, uh… my girlfriend,” he mutters, the words heavy with shame.

“Your girlfriend?” you echo, the word catching in your throat. “Chip, are you telling me your girlfriend did this to you?”

He doesn’t answer right away, his hands gripping the edge of the tub so tightly his knuckles turn white. Finally, he nods, barely meeting your gaze. “Yeah,” he says softly. “She’s got a temper, and sometimes… I just—I make her mad, you know?”

You stare at him, disbelief and anger swirling in your chest. “Chip, no,” you say firmly, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to stay calm. “This isn’t about you making her mad. This is about her. This isn’t okay.”

He shakes his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “It’s not like that all the time,” he says defensively. “She’s… she’s just going through a lot. I’m trying to help her.”

“Help her?” you say, stepping closer again, your voice rising slightly. “Chip, look at yourself. She’s hurting you. How is that okay?”

“I can handle it,” he insists, though his voice wavers. “It’s not a big deal.”

You crouch down in front of him, your hand resting gently on his knee. “It is a big deal,” you say softly but firmly. “You don’t deserve this, Chip. No one does.”

He looks at you then, his eyes glassy and full of conflict, as if he’s trying to decide whether to believe you. For a moment, the room is silent except for the hum of the overhead light, the weight of his pain filling the small bathroom.

“This isn’t okay, Chip,” you say, your voice firm but trembling with emotion. You grip the edge of the counter behind you, your knuckles white, steadying yourself as you speak.

“I can handle it,” he insists, his tone hollow and unconvincing. He doesn’t look at you when he says it, his gaze fixed on the floor like he’s trying to will the words into being true.

But you won’t let him sink back into that silence, not this time. “Handling it isn’t enough,” you counter, your voice soft but unyielding. “You deserve better than this, Chip.”

He lets out a heavy breath, shaking his head. “It’s not that simple. I’ve tried… leaving, fixing things, I’ve tried everything. And every time, it just gets worse.”

Your heart aches at the rawness in his voice, the hopelessness that seeps through every word. Slowly, you kneel in front of him, forcing him to meet your eyes. “Chip, listen to me,” you say gently, placing your hands on his knees. “You don’t have to fix this alone. You don’t have to keep going back. There are people who care about you—I care about you. Let me help.”

His lips press into a thin line, his jaw clenching as his emotions swirl just beneath the surface. “What if it doesn’t work?” he whispers, his voice cracking. “What if I can’t get away?”

“You can,” you say firmly, leaning closer. “And you will. But you have to let someone in, Chip. You have to let someone help you.”

He swallows hard, blinking rapidly like he’s trying to hold himself together. “Why do you care so much?” he asks, his voice small and hesitant, like he’s afraid of the answer.

You squeeze his knees gently, your eyes locked on his. “Because you deserve better,” you say simply. “And I’m not going to let you believe you don’t.”

For a long moment, he just stares at you, the weight of your words settling over him. Then, slowly, he nods, the tiniest flicker of hope breaking through the despair in his eyes. “Okay,” he whispers, the word so faint you almost don’t hear it.

But you do, and it’s enough. It’s a start.

—

“Where have you been?” Liza slurred drunkenly, her voice thick and venomous as Chip quietly closed the trailer door behind him. She was sitting on the couch, a half-empty bottle of something strong dangling from her hand, her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Uh, nowhere?” Chip replied timidly, his voice barely above a whisper as he tried to avoid her gaze.

Liza snorted, her lips curling into a sneer. “What’s her name?” she shot back, leaning forward unsteadily. “Little Miss Nowhere?”

Chip froze, his throat tightening as he searched for something—anything—that might diffuse the situation. “It’s not like that, Liza,” he said carefully, his voice trembling just enough to betray his nerves.

“Oh, it’s not like that?” she mocked, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “You think I’m stupid, Chip? You come sneaking in here like some guilty teenager, and I’m supposed to believe you were just out… what? Taking a walk?”

“I wasn’t sneaking,” he mumbled, stepping further into the room, though he kept his distance from her. “I just—needed some air. That’s all.”

“Air, huh?” Liza spat, taking a swig from the bottle and setting it down hard on the coffee table. “Funny how you always seem to need air somewhere else. Who is she, Chip? Huh? Some charity case who feels bad for you?”

“Stop, Liza,” he said softly, his voice pleading. “You’re drunk.”

“Oh, don’t you dare tell me what I am,” she snapped, standing up abruptly and swaying slightly. “You’re the one sneaking around, lying to me, and I’m the problem?”

Chip’s hands balled into fists at his sides, his chest tight with frustration and fear. “I’m not lying to you,” he said quietly, though the exhaustion in his voice was unmistakable.

“Sure you’re not,” she hissed, stepping closer, her eyes locked onto his. “But let me tell you something, Chip—you think you can just waltz in and out of here, running to whoever she is? You’re mine. Don’t forget that.”

He flinched at her words, his head dipping as he avoided her gaze. “I’m tired, Liza,” he said softly. “I don’t want to do this tonight.”

“Yeah?” she barked, her voice rising. “Well, tough shit, because I’m not done.”

But Chip didn’t respond. He turned and walked toward the bedroom, his shoulders hunched as if carrying the weight of the world. Behind him, Liza’s words kept coming, sharp and slurred, but he didn’t look back.

As he closed the door behind him, he leaned against it, his chest heaving with shaky breaths. The fight had drained him, but your voice—steady and kind from earlier—echoed faintly in his mind.

“You don’t deserve this, Chip.”

And for the first time, he wondered if you might be right.

—

It was like clockwork, hearing the knock on your door. You didn’t think twice before opening it, expecting the usual sheepish face and bruises.

“What is it today, Chip—” you began, but the words died in your throat as you froze.

It wasn’t Chip. It was Liza.

Before you could react, she pushed her way inside, her movements unsteady but fueled by a drunken determination. The sharp, acrid scent of alcohol clung to her, and her eyes narrowed as they darted around your space, taking in every detail.

“So you’re the little twinkie my Chip keeps running off to see?” she sneered, her words slurred but cutting.

“What? Um, no,” you stammered, panic rising as you took a step back. “We’re just—uh, we’re friends.”

Liza let out a bitter laugh, the sound harsh and humorless as she staggered toward you, her eyes locking onto yours with an unsettling intensity. “Friends?” she spat. “Don’t give me that. I wasn’t born yesterday. You think I don’t know what’s going on?”

Your chest tightened, your heart pounding as you tried to stay calm. “Why are you in my home?” you demanded, your voice trembling despite your attempt at firmness.

Liza ignored the question, her gaze sweeping the room again before settling back on you. “You think you’re better than me, don’t you?” she hissed, taking another step closer. “Playing the good little Samaritan, patching him up, feeding him your pity. You think you can just take him from me?”

“No one’s trying to take anyone,” you said, your voice steadier now as you held your ground. “Chip’s my friend, that’s all. But if you’re here to cause trouble, you need to leave.”

Liza’s sneer deepened, her body swaying slightly as she crossed her arms. “Trouble?” she mocked. “Oh, honey, you don’t know the half of it.”

Your stomach churned as she stared you down, her presence filling the room with a volatile energy that made it hard to breathe. “Liza, I’m asking you nicely. Get out,” you said, your tone firmer now.

But she just laughed again, the sound colder than before. “Or what?” she challenged, leaning in closer. “You gonna run to Chip? Beg him to save you from big, bad Liza?”

You swallowed hard, your mind racing for how to handle this without escalating things further. “No,” you said firmly, your voice low and measured. “I don’t need anyone to save me. But you need to leave. Now.”

Liza’s expression faltered for just a moment, a flicker of uncertainty passing over her face before she straightened up, wobbling slightly. “Fine,” she snapped, turning toward the door. “But you’d better stay away from him. Because if I find out you’re messing with what’s mine…”

She didn’t finish the threat, but the weight of her words hung heavy in the air as she stumbled out of your home, slamming the door behind her.

You stood there for a moment, your heart racing as you tried to process what had just happened. Finally, you locked the door, leaning against it as you exhaled shakily.

And all you could think was, What the hell has Chip gotten himself into?

The rest of the day was a blur, the encounter with Liza leaving a sour knot in your stomach. That evening, for the first time in weeks, you weren’t home when Chip came knocking. Work had called, and with bills looming, you couldn’t afford to say no.

When Chip arrived at your door, his knock was softer than usual, almost hesitant. He waited, shuffling on the porch, but there was no answer. He tried again, his hand lingering on the doorframe as he glanced around. Still nothing.

Unsure of what else to do, Chip slumped down onto the steps of your porch, his legs stretched out as the weight of everything pressed down on him. The fight with Liza, the exhaustion from trying to keep it all together, the growing guilt over dragging you into his mess—it all swirled in his head, loud and unrelenting.

He hadn’t meant to stay long. Just a few minutes to collect himself before heading back to the chaos. But the cool night air and the relative safety of your porch lulled him into stillness, and before he knew it, his eyes grew heavy.

By the time you got home, the clock was nearing midnight. You were juggling your keys and a bag of groceries when you noticed the figure curled up on your porch. Your heart skipped a beat before recognition settled in.

“Chip?” you called softly, stepping closer.

He stirred at the sound of your voice, groggy and disoriented. “Hey,” he mumbled, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice a mix of surprise and concern. “Why didn’t you call?”

“I did,” he said, his voice raspy from sleep. “Your phone went straight to voicemail. Thought I’d wait for you.”

Your chest tightened as you took in the sight of him—his slumped posture, the faint bruise blooming on his jaw, the weariness etched into every line of his face. You crouched down beside him, setting your bag aside. “Chip, you can’t sleep on my porch.”

“I didn’t mean to,” he admitted, his voice low. “I just… I didn’t know where else to go.”

Your frustration melted at the vulnerability in his tone, replaced by a wave of empathy. “Come on,” you said gently, standing and reaching for his hand. “Let’s get you inside.”

Chip hesitated, glancing up at you, his eyes glassy and unsure. But when you offered him a small, reassuring smile, he let out a soft sigh and took your hand.

The next morning, the smell of sizzling bacon and fresh coffee filled the air. You hummed softly to yourself as you worked in the kitchen, glancing over your shoulder every so often to make sure Chip hadn’t snuck off. But there he was, sitting at the small table, bleary-eyed and tousle-haired, looking more like a lost puppy than the rugged man who had crashed on your porch.

When you placed a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast in front of him, he blinked at it, then up at you. “You didn’t have to do this,” he mumbled, his voice thick with emotion he didn’t quite know how to hide.

“Just eat,” you said with a small smile, brushing it off like it was no big deal. But when he picked up a piece of bacon, his hands trembled slightly. You noticed the way his eyes glistened, though he quickly looked down, blinking hard as if the sight of breakfast had somehow betrayed him.

You leaned against the counter, watching him take a hesitant bite, and the words spilled out before you could second-guess them. “Move in with me.”

Chip froze mid-bite, his eyes widening as he choked on the bacon. He coughed, grabbing his coffee to wash it down, and stared at you like you’d just grown a second head. “What?” he croaked, his voice cracking.

“I don’t want you going back to her,” you said simply, your tone steady despite the racing of your heart. “You basically live here already, so why not make it permanent?”

“Y/N…” he stammered, setting his fork down as his brow furrowed. “I—I don’t know what to say.”

“Say yes,” you replied, stepping closer. “I don’t want you in that situation anymore, Chip. You don’t deserve it.”

“I can’t pay much in rent,” he said, his voice quiet, almost ashamed.

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “I own the house, Chip. You’re not paying rent. Just… contribute when you can, okay? Groceries, light bills, whatever. This isn’t about money.”

He stared at you, the conflict in his eyes giving way to something softer, something that looked a lot like hope. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t,” you said with a reassuring smile. “You’re not alone, Chip. You don’t have to go back to that trailer.”

For a moment, he was silent, his gaze dropping to the plate of food you’d made for him. Then he nodded slowly, his lips pressing into a thin line as he swallowed hard. “Okay,” he said finally, his voice shaky. “I’ll stay.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, relief washing over you. “Good,” you said with a small smile. “Now finish your breakfast before it gets cold.”

Chip nodded again, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he picked up his fork. But this time, there was a faint glimmer of something in his expression—a flicker of trust, of gratitude, of believing.

��

That weekend, you decided Chip deserved a break—a real one. So, you took him out for a round of celebratory drinks at your favorite local spot, a small, cozy bar with dim lighting, a jukebox that played everything from old country to classic rock, and a bartender who knew how to pour a drink just right.

For the first time in a long while, there was no drama, no blood, no tension hanging over your heads. Just you and Chip, relaxed and laughing like nothing else in the world mattered.

“Okay, okay,” You said, your voice loud enough to be heard over the faint buzz of conversation and clinking glasses. “But you’re seriously telling me you thought you could just jump off the roof into a pool without calculating the distance first? That’s, like, Physics 101!”

Chip rolled his eyes, tipping his glass toward you. “Hey, I was fifteen, and I thought I was invincible. Plus, I didn’t think anyone was going to snitch to my parents about it.”

You laughed, the sound warm and unrestrained, and Chip couldn’t help but smile. It was good to see you like this, guard down, shoulders loose, your eyes crinkling at the corners.

“You’re lucky you didn’t break your neck,” You teased, taking a sip of your drink. “You’ve got guts, though. I’ll give you that.”

“Damn right, I do,” He shot back with a grin, raising his glass. “Here’s to bad decisions and living to tell the tale.”

You clinked his bottle against your glass, his smile softening as he looked at you. “I’ll drink to that,” you said, your voice quieter now.

The two of you fell into a comfortable rhythm, the conversation flowing easily as you swapped stories, teased each other, and indulged in just a little casual flirting. You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or the moment, but something about the way Chip looked at you that night felt… different.

“Thanks for this,” he said suddenly, leaning back in his chair and giving you a small, genuine smile. “I don’t remember the last time I had a night like this. No stress. No bullshit. Just… good company.”

Your cheeks warmed, but you played it cool, swirling the last of your drink in your glass. “Well, you deserve it,” you said, meeting his gaze. “Besides, I like seeing you like this. Relaxed. Happy.”

His smile widened, and for a brief moment, the rest of the bar seemed to fade away. “I think that’s all you,” he said softly, his voice carrying just enough weight to make your heart skip.

You raised an eyebrow, trying to mask the sudden flutter in your chest. “Flattery will get you another round,” you teased, sliding out of your seat.

Chip laughed, shaking his head as he watched you walk toward the bar. And as the night stretched on, filled with more drinks, more laughs, and the kind of easy connection that felt rare and precious, you both couldn’t help but think: Maybe this is how things are supposed to feel.

But, of course, nice things never last. One minute, you were smiling and turning your head to flag down the bartender for another drink while Chip slipped off to the bathroom. The atmosphere was light, carefree. For a fleeting moment, it felt like everything might actually be okay.

And then, chaos.

The first thing you registered was the searing pain. Your head snapped forward as something—or rather, someone—slammed your face into the edge of the bar. The world spun, and your hands flew up to your nose instinctively, warmth already spreading down your face.

Screams erupted around you, voices blending into a cacophony of panic and confusion. Blinking through the haze, you turned your head just enough to catch a glimpse of her—Liza.

Her face was twisted with rage, her body shaking as she pointed a trembling finger at you. “You think you can just take him from me?” she spat, her voice slurred and venomous. “You think you’re better than me, huh? Well, guess what, sweetheart—he’s mine!”

Blood dripped between your fingers, your likely broken nose throbbing with every beat of your heart. You staggered back, trying to create space between you and her as bar patrons scrambled out of the way, some yelling for security, others too stunned to react.

“Liza,” you managed, your voice muffled and shaky as you tried to steady yourself. “What the hell are you doing?”

“You’re pathetic,” she hissed, taking a step toward you, her eyes wild. “You think you can fix him? Save him? He doesn’t need you!”

Before she could lunge again, a pair of arms wrapped around her from behind, pulling her back. Chip. His face was pale, his eyes wide with horror as he restrained her, his voice shaking as he said, “Liza, stop! What the hell is wrong with you?”

She fought against his hold, screaming obscenities as her feet kicked against the floor. “You lied to me, Chip!” she shrieked. “You said you’d always be there! You said we’d work it out!”

“Let’s go,” Chip said firmly, dragging her toward the exit as she thrashed in his grip. “You’re done. Get out.”

As they disappeared through the door, the bartender rushed over to you, his face full of concern. “Are you okay?” he asked, handing you a wad of napkins to stem the bleeding.

“I—I don’t know,” you stammered, pressing the napkins against your nose as your vision blurred with tears of pain and shock.

Moments later, Chip returned, his chest heaving as he burst back into the bar. His eyes scanned the crowd frantically until they landed on you, sitting on a stool, blood dripping between your fingers. His face crumpled with guilt and horror.

“Oh my god, Y/N,” he breathed, rushing to your side and crouching down in front of you. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“This isn’t your fault,” you mumbled through the pain, though your voice trembled, and the blood on your hands told a different story.

“It is,” Chip said, his voice low and filled with self-reproach as he grabbed more napkins from the bartender. “It all is. If I’d just—if I hadn’t—” He stopped himself, shaking his head as he pressed the napkins into your hands. “Here. Hold these tight, okay?”

You didn’t argue, taking the napkins and wincing as you held them against your throbbing nose. The room felt too loud, too crowded, the stares from the other patrons pressing down on you like weights.

Minutes later, the flashing lights of an ambulance cut through the chaos outside. Chip helped you to your feet, his hand steady on your back as paramedics ushered you into the back of the vehicle. The world felt surreal, the adrenaline in your veins masking the full extent of the pain radiating through your face.

“Stay still,” one of the paramedics instructed as they examined you, their hands gentle but efficient. You caught glimpses of Chip through the open door, standing a few feet away, his posture tense as he spoke with the police.

He gestured animatedly, his words spilling out in hurried bursts. You couldn’t hear what he was saying, but you could see the guilt etched into every movement, the way he ran a hand through his hair, his shoulders slumping as he pointed back toward the bar.

When the officer nodded and took notes, Chip glanced back at you, his expression raw and heavy with regret.

Inside the ambulance, the paramedic gave you a small smile, her voice calm. “It looks like your nose is broken, but it’s a clean break. We’ll take you to the hospital to get it checked out.”

You nodded weakly, your eyes flickering back to Chip outside. 

—

When you arrived home that night, the sound of hurried footsteps greeted you even before you stepped through the door. Chip was pacing the living room, his hands raking through his hair in nervous, jittery motions.

The moment the door clicked open, he froze and turned toward you, his face lighting up with a mixture of relief and worry. “Y/N? Y/N, oh my god, you’re okay,” he blurted, rushing toward you like a man on a mission.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at his intensity, though it turned into a groan as the pain in your nose flared. “I’m fine, Chip,” you assured him, though your voice came out a little nasally thanks to the bandages.

Chip stopped in front of you, his eyes scanning your face with a mixture of guilt and concern. “I’m so sorry I didn’t come to get you,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “You had the car keys, and I—I didn’t know how to—”

“Chip,” you interrupted, smiling despite the ache in your face. “It’s fine. Really. I’m just glad you’re here now.”

He hesitated, his eyes lingering on your bruises and the fresh bandage across your nose. “I still feel like an idiot,” he muttered, his voice heavy with regret.

“Don’t,” you said firmly, placing a hand on his arm. “None of this is your fault.”

He let out a shaky sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly. “They arrested Liza,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter now. “I told them everything. All of it.”

“Everything?” you echoed, your brows lifting slightly despite the stiffness in your face.

“Yeah,” he nodded, his gaze dropping to the floor. “They’re gonna want you to testify, though. Against her. I—” He paused, looking up at you, his expression pleading. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but—”

“I’ll do it,” you said without hesitation, cutting him off.

Chip’s eyes widened. “You will?”

“Of course,” you said softly. “She hurt you, Chip. And tonight, she hurt me. I’m not going to let her keep doing this—not to you, not to anyone.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his jaw working like he was struggling to find the right words. Finally, he nodded, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Thank you,” he whispered.

You reached out, squeezing his arm gently. “We’ll get through this,” you said, your voice steady. “Together.”

Chip’s shoulders relaxed slightly at your words, the tension visibly melting away. His eyes lingered on yours for a moment too long, and for whatever reason his brain cooked up, he decided that right then was the perfect time to kiss you.

Before you could even react, his lips met yours—not hard, not rough, but just enough to remind you that, oh yeah, you had a freshly set nose.

“Ow!” you grunted, pulling back sharply, your hand flying up to cradle your face.

Chip’s eyes widened in panic. “Oh my god! I’m sorry! I didn’t think—”

But the ridiculousness of it all hit you before the pain fully registered, and a laugh bubbled out of you. “Chip, seriously?” you managed between giggles, wincing but unable to stop yourself from laughing.

He rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “I—I don’t know what I was thinking,” he stammered, his cheeks flushing bright red. “Guess I got caught up in the moment or something. Stupid, right?”

You kept laughing, the sound slightly strangled as you tried to avoid moving your nose too much. “You think?” you teased, giving him a playful shove. “Maybe next time don’t kiss someone who just got their face rearranged, genius.”

Chip chuckled, his embarrassment giving way to a genuine laugh as he looked at you. “Noted,” he said, his grin growing. “Maybe I’ll, uh, ask for permission first next time.”

“Good idea,” you replied with a smirk, your hand still gently holding your nose. “But hey, points for effort, I guess.”

He laughed again, his shoulders shaking as he ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll take what I can get.”

As the laughter faded, the two of you sat there in the quiet, the moment lighter than it had been all night. And despite the throbbing in your nose, you couldn’t help but feel a little warmth spread through your chest. Even if his timing was terrible, it was still Chip—and maybe, just maybe, there was something to that.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

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[in1-nutshell]

Hello again! I hope you don't mind, I want to try G1 request, please. Megatron have a child that is quiet, fair, gentle, respectful, and wise heir. In battle, the Decepticon Heir will get very serious and stern in battle and will lead the Decepticons into battle when Megatron is not available and make sure not one of them doesn't get killed in their watch. One of Soundwaves cassettes - Rumble, is in dangerous condition, one of the Autobots nearly finished him off before The Heir fiercely protected Rumble and carried him to the medics, which saved his life. The Decepticon Heir is sick of losses of their people - Decepticons, Neutrals, even Autobots altogether. A few days later, Decepticon Heir and Optimus somehow got separated from others in the battle while they fight each other alone. At a stroke of luck, the Heir managed knocked Optimus down. The Heir is about to kill Optimus, but changed their mind. The Heir said, "I'm sick of this war. Someday, I hope we won't have to be enemies in the future. Farewell, Prime." And then walked away. Megatron, Soundwave, and Optimus Prime. Please and thank you.

YES! We are on a roll with Megs having a child aren't we? Though G1 Megatron does have a different relationship with this Buddy (as well as his little sparkling is BIGGER than him). I sneaked in some extra things in there.

Hope you enjoy!

Megatron with a kid who spared their enemy in battle with Optimus Prime, Megatron, and Soundwave

SFW, Platonic, Familial, Romantic, Angst, Hurt and Comfort, mention of injuries but nothing too graphic, Cybertronain reader

G1

Being Megatron’s child wasn’t the best thing in the world, but they wouldn’t trade it either.

Buddy made themselves quite tight knitted with their fellow Decepticons.

Yes, even Starscream was a part of the family.

They saw that together they would be able to make a difference.

Sure, some of their family’s ways were a bit dysfunctional, but Buddy still loved them.

Soundwave walking down the corridor while looking over some datapads.

Buddy carrying Frenzy, Rumble and Skywarp sprinting past him.

“RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN!”--Frenzy

“CAN’T YOU GO ANY FASTER?!”--Skywarp

“I WOULD BUT I HAVE THE THREE OF YOU ON ME!”--Buddy

Starscream shrieking in the background.

“BUDDY!”--Rumble

“Skywarp why don’t you warp us outta here?!”--Frenzy

“Well—”--Skywarp

“Absolutely not! I’d rather run all around the Nemesis with you three digging into my spinal struts than get stuck in a wall again!”--Buddy

Buddy was closer to Soundwave and his cassettes.

Being one of the only other Decepticons making sure things were running smoothly, Buddy found themselves working with him more than Megatron himself.

Sure, Buddy and Megatron did have their little bonding moments, but lately it had seemed as if Megatron was more concerned with Prime than with them.

“Behold my master plan!”--Megatron

A copy clone of Optimus Prime coming out of the supply closet.

“…Megatron what is that?”--Buddy

“It is a copy of the original Optimus Prime. This will sure—”--Megatron

“Hold on. So, you just so happen to have this copy with you… in the closet…”--Buddy

“Yes?”--Megatron

“… Why?”--Buddy

“Because… because… that’s not important right now.”--Megtraon

“I feel like it should be.”--Buddy

 “Shh! Now, we have a chance to defeat the—”--Megatron

Buddy and Soundwave having a telepathic conversation about getting rid of the copy as soon as the plan goes south.

They found some solace with Soundwave and the cassettes.

Buddy especially became acquainted with Rumble.

If Buddy was hanging out with one of the cassettes, they were most likely near or with Rumble.

There had been a lot of teasing within the ranks about the two, but nothing serious.

Buddy nor Rumble really minded that much. If fact they sometimes decided to use that teasing to their advantage or entertainment.

Buddy walking down the hall with Rumble sitting on their shoulders.

“Look who it is, the two love birds. What lovey dovey plans do you have today?”--Skywarp

“Can it Skywarp!”--Rumble

“Make me pipsqueak!”--Skywarp

Rumble was about to make a move when Buddy caught his pede, without looking from their data pad in their servo.

“Rumble I swear, if you go after Skywarp now when I’m just about to finish this report I will nail you into the wall with one servo.”--Buddy

“Woah! Buddy--”--Skywarp

“Yeah right! Not before I’d nail YOU to the wall so hard that you’d need the entire med crew to help you get back on your pedes!”--Rumble

“Wait what.”--Skywarp

“Bold of you to assume you could even do that Rumble, especially with your height.”--Buddy

“You guys can’t be— this is a joke right?”--Skywarp

“You think heights gonna stop me. I will climb you like those squirrels climb trees! Then we’ll see who’s laughing!”--Rumble

“You know what I’m just going to—”--Skywarp

“Skywarp who do you think is going to nail the other the hardest?”--Rumble

“…”--Skywarp

Skywarp warps away to purge his audials with bleach.

Buddy and Rumble laughing as soon as he warps away.

“It’s fun messing with them like this.”--Rumble

“Agreed. But seriously stop twitching I’m almost done.”--Buddy

“Make—”—Rumble

Buddy grabbing Rumble with one servo pushing him up against the wall while they finish reading their data pad.

“You want to finish that sentence?”--Buddy

Thundercracker turning the corner, sees this, then turns back.

“It is too early for this…”--Thundercracker

Frenzy once gave Buddy a type of shovel talk while the other cassettes in the background watching the show go down.

Soundwave dying a little bit inside with Rumble.

Frenzy standing on top of a bookshelf to gain some height on Buddy.

“—and if you even think about breaking his spark. We will find you and make you look like you went through a trash compactor!”--Frenzy

“Understood Frenzy.”--Buddy

“Don’t do that polite stuff! I mean it!”--Frenzy

“… You know that hurting him is the last thing I would ever want to do, right? I mean I’d never want to hurt Rumble and all but everyone gets hurt one way or another.”--Buddy

“Hmm!”--Frenzy

Ravage and Lazerbeak watching from the berth all of this go down.

“I guess you have my permission to make Rumble’s life the equivalent to a living mine field or whatever.”--Frenzy

“Oh, I’d be honored then.”--Buddy

“And there you go again with the whole ‘honor bound’ and ‘leader’ thing. Drop the act Buddy.”--Frenzy

“It’s called being polite Frenzy. You should try it sometime.”--Buddy

“Aha! There’s the Buddy I’ve been looking for—Oh Primus…”--Frenzy

“What?”--Buddy

Buddy turns around to see Soundwave and Rumble at the door.

“…”—Everyone in the room

“How much did you two heard?”—Buddy

“Information: Starscream now owes Soundwave 20 shanix. Buddy: permission to court Rumble.”--Soundwave

“Soundwave!”—Rumble and Buddy

“Frenzy…”--Buddy

“I swear I didn’t know they were coming back so early!”--Frenzy

“You have 10 nanoseconds of a head start before I catch up.”--Buddy

Megatron didn’t think too much of this when he heard about it, he thought it was a prank.

… After that day Buddy was seen more with Rumble than before.

Megatron is starting to think that maybe that wasn’t a prank… but it could still be a long prank.

A really long prank…

Buddy never lost their cool in the heat of battle.

Both sides knew this. It was something they could all agree on.

Buddy always had a failsafe in case the plans didn’t work out, especially whenever Megatron was not able to lead. The Autobots knew that it was important to keep their guard up during those times.

Today’s battle didn’t seem so different from the regular scrimmages they had in the past, it was almost a game at this point.

Buddy was fighting with against some of the Lambo twins, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, when they heard their name being called out.

They turned around and they finally got the human saying of ‘everything going in slow motion’.

All they could see was a familiar blast coming straight towards their chassis. They wouldn’t be able to move out of the way if they could. It was going to hit them straight on.

Then Rumble jumped in the way, taking the shot, and fell a few feet from Buddy.

Buddy just stopped and stared at his limp body in horror as well as the Lambo twins and Soundwave. None of them could believe what had just happened.

The twins moved aside when they saw Buddy slowly moving towards him.

Buddy looking at Rumble’s unmoving frame.

“Rumble?”--Buddy

“…”--Rumble

Buddy walking up the body falling to their knees.

“Rumble? Rumble this isn’t funny! Wake up! Please, wake up!”--Buddy

“…”--Rumble

“Rumble? Rumble! RUMBLE?!”--Buddy

“…”--Rumble

The battlefield went still at the sound of an unfamiliar anguished scream.

Buddy was on their knee next to Rumble, servos trembling trying to remember the medical advice Hook had given them not too long ago.

At some point Soundwave came over, but Buddy was focusing on stopping the bleeding with coolant dripping down their faceplate.

Soon the medics arrived. They tried to take Rumble from their servos, Buddy didn’t let go. They opted to instead transport Buddy with Rumble.

Buddy carefully carried Rumble into Astrotrain with Hook.

Everyone else would fly back on their own.

Hook wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he felt sorry for Buddy and let them be by Rumble the entire time grasping his little servo.

“…You know you bought him some time.”--Hook

“What?”--Buddy

“If you hadn’t tried stopping the bleeding, he probably would have been dead 5 minutes ago.”--Hook

“…”--Buddy

“…You did good kid.”--Hook

“… will he—”--Buddy

“I don’t know. It will have to depend on what happens when we get back to base.”--Hook

“…okay…”--Buddy

Soon they all came to the base, Hook needed Buddy to let go, for Rumble’s sake.

Buddy nodded silently and took a seat outside the med bay doors.

As soon as they hit the seat, Buddy let out some stifled sobs and let the coolant run down their faceplate.

Giving a silent prayer to Primus to spare him as their vision blurred once again with all the coolant coming out of their optics.

Buddy staring at their servos, stained with some of Rumble’s energon mixing with their coolant.

“Buddy!”--Frenzy

Buddy turning to see Soundwave and the cassettes coming their way.

“Buddy: Status on Rumble.”--Soundwave

“He… He’s in the med bay now. It looks bad… I’m so sorry.”--Buddy

“Come again?”--Frenzy

“I didn’t protect him. If I’d move faster—”--Buddy

Soundwave grabbing Buddy’s servos gently.

“Rumble status: Not Buddy’s fault.”--Soundwave

“But—”--Buddy

“Not Buddy fault.”--Soundwave

“If—”--Buddy

“Quit it with the ‘if’s’ and ‘buts’! You are singly one of the best Decepticons we’ve had in forever! But that doesn’t mean your invincible! I know that. Soundwave knows that. Megatron knows that! Rumble knows that and… and that’s why he took that shot. Now do you think my brother would like it if he found out you were out here on your own thinking this was all your fault! No! He’d have my helm if he found that out!”--Frenzy

“Frenzy…”--Buddy

“Frenzy: Correct, minus extra language.”--Soundwave

“Hey!”--Frenzy

“Buddy had not helped Rumble in those moments… He would not have made it back to the base.”--Soundwave

“…”--Buddy

“Buddy saved Rumble like Rumble saved Buddy.”--Soundwave

Buddy nodding slowly.

“Now that we got that through your thick helm, Megatron wants to see you.”--Frenzy

“What?”--Megatron

“Soundwave will notify Buddy of Rumble’s status. Go.”--Soundwave

“…Thank you, all of you…”--Buddy

Buddy came around the corner to find Megatron. He motioned Buddy to come to his habsuite.

They sat on the edge of the berth, Megatron sat next to them.

Buddy half expected a lecture from him about being so reckless today, but to their surprise he placed a servo on Buddy’s shoulder.

“I thought I lost you today.”--Megatron

“Come again?”--Buddy

“I had tackled Prime down, he was about to start blasting when I redirected his blaster… if he hadn’t yelled for your name, I wouldn’t have known that the blast was coming to you.”--Megatron

“What…”--Buddy

“I thought… I thought I had killed my sparkling.”--Megatron

“But now Rumble—”--Buddy

“He will get better. If you’d have taken that blow…”--Megatron

“…”--Buddy

“He was… not the mech I’d think have you wrapped around your digit.”--Megatron

“Megatron—”--Buddy

“Definitely not who I expected to be your future Conjux—”--Megatron

“Megatron!”--Buddy

“The point is I am glad you are still here with me, little one.”--Megatron

“… I’m taller than you…”--Buddy

“Yes, yes you are.”--Megatron

Buddy slipped their helm into their father’s neck cables trying hard not to cry, but he made it harder for them when he started rubbing circles in the back.

Once Rumble was stable, Buddy, Soundwave, and the cassettes ran in to see him.

Buddy let the family have a moment with Rumble first.

“Great to see your up, knuckle head!”--Frenzy

“Quiet down a bit Frenzy, I gotta killer helmache.”--Rumble

“Rumble: Need medics?”--Soundwave

“Nah, I’m fine—What where’s Buddy?”--Rumble

“What?”--Frenzy

“Buddy! Are they okay? The last thing I remembered was—”--Rumble

“Right here.”--Buddy

Rumble looking at Buddy leaning on the doorframe.

Both visibly relaxing.

Buddy moves towards Rumble’s side and slowly grabs his servo.

“You okay?”--Rumble

“Am I, okay? You’re the one who got shot!”--Buddy

“Yeah, not the best. 0 out of 10 stars, do not recommend it.”--Rumble

Buddy laughing wobbly, their hold slightly shaking.

Rumble firmly holds onto Buddy’s servo.

“I thought… I thought—”--Buddy

“Well for the first time in a long time, your wrong. Seriously I after all this time, I’d thought you’d have more faith in me.”--Rumble

“Yeah… never underestimate a minicon, huh?”--Buddy

“Never.”--Rumble

Click!

“Soundwave!”—Buddy and Rumble

“Photos for sparklings.”--Soundwave

“Sparklings?!”--Rumble

Buddy faints on to the floor.

“Buddy!”--Rumble

“Well… on the bright side you have a roommate now.”--Frenzy

“I swear if I wasn’t on this berth, I’d knock out that stinkin’ grin off of your faceplate.”--Rumble

Buddy, once they recovered quickly from the fainting spell, used all their free time to visit Rumble in the med bay telling him stories and the latest gossip. He would need a little more care before he would be allowed out in the field, Buddy was prepared to help him with every step.

A few days later another scrimmage held near the same place as the last time.

Except this time Buddy had somehow managed to get in front of Prime.

Buddy didn’t know what possessed them, but they felt so much anger at that moment.

It was his blaster.

It was his fault.

Optimus’s fault for Rumble getting hurt.

For so many of their family members getting hurt.

It.

Was.

His.

Fault.

Buddy lunged at the Prime with what they would describe as something of raw rage, throwing them both off the cliff they were on.

Buddy remembered hearing so much screaming as they both tumbling down the uneven pathway hitting several trees and rocks denting their armor.

When Buddy stopped rolling, they immediately went to see Prime shaking off the fall. He was still disoriented, now was their chance.

Buddy wasted no time clobbering him, leaving no chance to get up or recuperate.

Buddy now partially sitting on Prime’s chassis grabbed a rock in their servo with full intent of smashing it and their servo into his helm.

It would finally be the end.

But they stopped.

What good would this do?

The bots and cons were going to continue to kill each other for revenge until there was one bot left standing.

But… if peace was made…

No more energon spilled.

No more praying to Primus that they would make it to see the sunrise the next day.

A chance live with loved ones by your side no matter what fraction you came from.

Autobot, Decepticon, Neutrals, everyone would be safe.

Buddy shakingly let go of the rock and got off the Prime’s chassis.

Optimus had looked into Buddy’s optics and sensed the sudden change.

When they had that rock in their servo, they held nothing but an angry fire.

But then the fire slowly started dying down until it was smolders of the once raging inferno.

The pair just sat in silence for a minute.

Buddy was the first to stand up and offered the Prime their servo.

He grabbed it as Buddy helped him up and turned to walk away.

“I’m sick of this war. Someday, I hope we won’t have to be enemies in the future.”--Buddy

“Buddy.”--Optimus

“Yes?”--Buddy

“… If you ever wish to join the Autobots, I would welcome you with open arms.”--Optimus

“I’m sorry, what?”--Buddy

“The choice is yours to make. Just know that I too am sick of this war. Sick of the fighting…”--Optimus

“Sick of losing bots we love?”--Buddy

“Yes… but if we unite together, I believe we have a chance, a fighting chance for peace.”--Optimus

“I…I’ll consider it Prime. Farewell, Prime.”--Buddy

“As to you Buddy.”--Optimus

Optimus made one last look and started walking back to base as well.

Buddy continued to walk/limp back when they saw something fly overhead.

It was Lazerbeak.

The minicon flew straight down and landed on their shoulder looking concern at Buddy.

No doubt the minicon had alerted the others where they were.

Lazerbeak also gave Buddy a couple of pecks to the helm, Buddy guessed this was part of their punishment for pulling a stunt like that.

Buddy took this time to sit down on a nearby boulder for a bit. Falling down a cliff at full speed could do something like that to a bot.

Megatron was the first one to arrive to see Buddy leaning on the boulder with Lazerbeak on their shoulder.

He came faster than the others and hugged Buddy like it was their last day on earth.

“What in the name of Cybertron were you thinking?! Jumping off the cliff with Prime like that!”--Megatron

“Kind of wasn’t…”--Buddy

“I can believe that! How could you—”--Megatron

“As much as I love hearing your lecturing, I have a split helmache and my frame feels like its on more hug away from falling apart.”--Buddy

“Hmmm… it seems that the fall was enough punishment.”--Megatron

“Yeah…”--Buddy

“After all you have something much worse to face.”--Megatron

“Wait what?”--Buddy

“Buddy!”--Frenzy

“Oh boy…”--Buddy

Soundwave and the other cassettes followed suite with a small search party.

The cassettes let out a small string of empty threats. They were just glad Buddy wasn’t hurt too badly.

Soundwave helped Megatron get Buddy up on their pedes and flew them back to base.

“Well, I think I went through that punishment faster than I thought.”--Buddy

“That wasn’t your punishment.”--Megatron

“What?”--Buddy

“Buddy punishment: Telling Rumble what happened.”--Soundwave

“WHAT!”--Buddy

“Yeah, you’re on your own there.”--Frenzy

“Nope, no, no, no—”--Buddy

“You don’t have a choice.”--Megatron

“Nice knowing ya Buddy. House arrest is imminent.”--Frenzy

“…Primus help me…”--Buddy

[invisiblequeen]

For @ethicaltreatmentofcowplants 's BC: May I Introduce...Pauline Irwin? (Again?)

Name: Pauline Irwin

Age Group: Young Adult

Pronouns: She/Her

Orientation: Bisexual

Life State: Former Vampire Turned Non-Occult

Hometown: Forgotten Hollow

Current Town: Chestnut Ridge

Occupation: Rancher

Traits: Rancher,Horse Lover, Loves Outdoors

Aspiration: Master Vampire (at least, that's what she used to want...)

Likes: Fitness, Horse Riding, Mixology, Rascals, Spirited Sims, Nature Enthusiasts, Hard-Working Sims, Yellow, Black, Carnival Beats, Classical, Soul, Jazz, Hip Hop, Retro

Dislikes: Egotistical Sims, Argumentative Sims, Blue, Cottagecore Music, Winter Holiday Music, Spooky Music, Batuu Music, Strange Tunes, Ranch Music (she's in the ranch life, but not THAT much!)

Misc.: Finally tried Garlic. Delicious. Favorite horse is a black stallion named Lemaire. Her good friends back home keep her updated on all the gossip.

Gifts: A well-aged bottle of nectar, a knitted beanie (from a neighbor, and ,

• Flirting with other contestants? No

• WooHooing other contestants? No

• Flirting with/and or woohooing NPCs? No

• Flirting with the host? No

• Changes to traits via gameplay prompts? Yes

• (Humans Only) Becoming an occult? Depends on where the story leads her (taking her bio into account.)

Did you know I was once the most Powerful Vampire In Forgotten Hollow?

I was.

I'd been set for greatness since birth, with a family line of high-class and ancient power, and I had impressed even them with plans to turn the Hollow into an unforgettable empire for all vampires near and far to congregate. The people adored me, if they weren't busying envying me. I had the world at my fingertips.

But others more powerful than me wanted my power for themselves. They joined forces against me, threatening to destroy all I held dear. For months, we locked into a bitter back and forth. But in a final battle that put both sides against each other, we turned them all to dust.

My victory cost me my own power.

While the remnants of my former life still rest in my visage (glowing eyes, gaunt cheeks, and sharp teeth), everything that made me the Vampire I was died that day. I did not belong at home anymore. With a heavy heart, I left the Hollow behind, in the hands of the people I trusted most, and set out on a voyage to find a new purpose while they remained and searched for a way to reverse this loss.

In my new home, Chestnut Ridge, as I await word of a possible cure, I distract myself with a mortal life's pleasures. To my surprise, there are many things to love. I love the feeling of galloping through plains with the wind in my hair, hearing the horse neigh joyfully. I do it every night. I enjoy the sweetness of nectar. I relish the spicy and the tart of new dishes I now rely on for sustenance. I even find pleasure in the warmth of the sun on my skin.

And for the first time in a long time, I feel a desire for companionship. For a partner. A lover. A friend.

My life's work is somewhere behind me, with the home I miss more than anything. And yet...I wonder...could this be a better life, as a mortal, a companion...forever?

WHAT DO WE THINK, @ethicaltreatmentofcowplants ?

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

CRUSH- J.B BARNES

Pairing: Biker! Bucky x Innocent! Fem! Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: home for the summer, you plan on spending it in isolation, too shy and innocent to get into trouble. bucky barnes- the head of the local biker clan, has other ideas in mind.

Warnings: teasing, heavy flirting, pet names, drinking/ drugs mentioned, swearing, lap sitting, enemies to lovers trope

“can you read my mind? i've been watching you couldn't fight to save your life, but you look so cool camo' jacket, robbing corner stores hard odds to beat when you're on all fours good men die too, oh, i'd rather be with you”- crush, ethel cain

PART ONE OF THE CAIN SERIES. 

You could hear the revving of the bikes from where you stood, safety guarded behind the glass doors littered with posters and signs, peeling and jumbling over each other- colours starting to fade from the summer sun. 

It was loud, their voices somehow seeming to overlap the roaring engines as they slipped on their glasses. You knew the men in that group, puffing out smokes in the convenience store parking lot. 

All of them. 

And you didn't know what that made you. Cool, for perceiving the closely, tight knit biker gang? Or shameful- for being seen anywhere near them?

 They were troublemakers. They had always, flaunting their tattoos and leather, never needing an announcement whenever they stepped into a room. You just knew who they were, that they were there and they meant business. 

Bucky Barnes and his posse never expected less. You, on the other hand, were the opposite. Shy, quiet, reserved. A girl who was headstrong yes, but knew that the bark and bite was not always the best strategy. 

You were polite, the kind of person an older person would think ‘What a sweet girl. I like her, so modest!’. Perceiving others, but not wanting to be perceived herself. Innocent. You were like that at school, and you were like that while being home for the summer. 

The gang was the same, and you dreaded the fact Bucky’s father lived right near yours. Which is why you felt your stomach drop at the bustle outside, clutching your plastic bag tighter, feeling the handles twist and pinch at your fingers circulation. 

You didn’t want them to notice you. But the rest of the parking lot was next to dead empty. Only an older man glared at them as he bagged things in the trunk, too far down in the parking lot for the group of men to care. 

Eyes stared at the back of your neck as you debated how to approach your old pickup truck, trying to assess the situation at hand. 

Not that there was a situation. Why did there need to be a situation? Just walk to your car. Don’t engage. 

The cashier, lifted his eyes from the newspaper, eyebrows cocking in concern. “H-have a good day. Thanks again.” you murmured, wanting to smack yourself. 

You had already said that. Just shut the fuck up and get home. The sticky, warm air of the west in the summer hit you as you removed yourself from the air-conditioned shop, and you took a breath before you fumbled for your keys. 

One step, then two. One step-  

“Hey sweet thang.” the leader called out, accent thick as all heads turned towards you. Your eyes met his, shades protecting the baby blues you knew were hidden under as he smirked. You felt your breath quicken, stomach turning in on itself the longer you stared. 

It was like a battle off. You were a Capulet. They were the Montagues. He reached for the smoke between his lips, throwing it down on the pavement before twisting his boot sole on it, ash smearing.

 “You shouldn't do that, you know. It’s bad.” you blurted out before you could stop yourself, wanting to shrink back as soon as the words left your mouth. 

Little ooo’s and chuckles rose up from the other man, and you recognized some of them, even without the names on the back of the jean vests. Rogers. Wilson. Stark. 

He stepped towards you, cocking his head. Examining you. You couldn't tell if that was a good thing or not, and you weren't planning to stick around and find out. 

“Whatever you say Y/N.” he chuckled, making your eyes widen. Sweat broke out down your neck from the beating sun, and the fact he knew you. He knew you and that scared you. 

But also excited you, just a smidge. 

He noted your tense stance, and couldn't help but get a form of satisfaction out of it, even if his boys teased him for having such a crush on someone so unlike him. 

You rushed off before Bucky could say anything more, the breeze brushing the silky white sundress against your thighs as you slammed the truck door shut. Backing up without sparing a second glance, you sped out of the deserted parking lot, down the highway and away from him.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It had been days since the last time you saw him, yet it replayed in your mind as if it had happened only a minute earlier. 

The way he noticed you. Had called out for you, as if he had been waiting the entire time you were in the store, wandering through the isles.

 It haunted you, in a way. You weren't sure if you cared for him or not. You had been watching him for quite some time now, though it had been mainly to steer clear of his antics. 

Bucky was a bad boy. You were a goodie two shoes. It didn’t fit. Intimation seeped your bones whenever you passed him, caught wind of his husky voice from whichever parking lot he crawled out from. 

So why were you still thinking of him? He scared you. Frightened you. But he was beautiful. 

Dangerously beautiful, like you couldn't say no to him no matter the question or cost. He was high strung with authority, a maturity about him that made you want to cling to him and never let go. 

Bucky was indescribable you decided, as you swung back the bottle of red wine, the sweet, tangy liquid caressing your throat as the cool night breeze blew through your hair. 

He looked like he worked with his hands and smells like marlboro reds, was all you could place in the category that you had organised in your mind. Though it was foggy, the lines slightly blurring the more you drank, the higher the moon rose in the night sky and the more the wooden railings creaked from the wind, you knew there was a reason he was constantly on your mind. 

It was silly really, how much your deep subconscious clung to the idea of him. Intoxicated or not. 

You heard the mosquitoes swarm towards the dim porch light by the old screen door, cicadas chirping in the tall grass. It was peaceful out here, alone. You let yourself dawn on how much you really missed home, the feeling of the freedom out in the middle of nowhere. 

“Drinking is bad too, ya know.” a low voice called from the shadows, making you jump- heart hammering in your chest as Bucky emerged from the darkness.

 Air whosed through clenched teeth as you sucked on your cheek, admiring him. Though he was in his ‘gear’, a rolled up henley, jeans and a smoke between his lips, he seemed different. 

Calmer.

 Like his guard wasn't up as much as you had seen it around his friends, or anyone else for that matter. “Why are you here Bucky?” was all you could muster to ask, not even knowing where to begin. 

You knew he knew where your father lived, as the two of you grew up on the same street. You just never expected him to show up. 

“Ah so shy girl  knows my name eh?”

 “Of course I know who you are. I’m not stupid.” He threw his hands up in defence. “Hey, I never said you were. Quite the opposite, from what I’ve observed.” 

He hinted towards the empty spot beside you.

 “Can I?” 

You nodded, watching as his beefy body adjusted to the smaller spot, knees brushing yours as he hung his head low. 

“Why are you here?” you repeated.

 “I don’t know. I guess seeing you the other day made me want to know you more. Is that bad?”

 “Yes.” you stated firmly, taking another swig of booze as he fumbled with his lighter. Your own answer startled you, words abruptly coming out of your mouth. It was the wine talking. But it was too late now. “Its a bad thing because you're a bad guy. You shouldn't be hanging around me.” 

He smirked, hand running through his dark, messy locks, tugging at the back of his neck. “Is that right? I forgot you're such a goodie two shoes. Are you too good for me?” he mocked, and you rolled your eyes.

 “That’s not what I meant. It’s just… we’re so different. And I don’t know you, like at all. You’ve done… bad shit.” 

“Like smoking pot? Or are you talking about that guy I murdered?” Your eyes widened, mouth forming an O shape as you whipped your head around to face him fully. Anxiety churned like angry waves in your stomach, and you feed the acid would rise up to the surface.

 “Kidding! Jesus you’re so fun to nag doll. It’s too easy, should’ve seen the look on your face! Priceless.”

 “How was I supposed to know that?!” you hiccuped, knocking the glass bottle against the bottom step, setting it down before you finished it all. That was a bad idea. Especially around a pretty boy with as much charisma as a snake charmer. 

“No idea, but some faith in me would be nice. I’ve put plenty of faith in you, ya know.” he bumped your shoulder, as if the two of you had been life long friends. 

You were baffled at the thought of what was happening right now. Never in a million years could you have pictured this, the teachers pet paired with the notorious bad boy, allowing him to sit on your porch and unwind with you when the minimal interactions the two of you had left nothing but mysteries in your mind. 

Who was he, really? Why were you so intrigued by him, though you knew he was nothing but trouble? And why, oh why did you find yourself actually enjoying his company? 

“How so?” you asked, looking down with interest at the dog tag that swung on his neck, silver shimmering in the gloom of the night. You didn’t want to look into his eyes. It scared you. 

“Well I had faith you’d come around, and let me talk to you. You’ve always looked so timid. I didn’t want to scare you.” 

You felt your breathing stop. “Why did you want to talk to me?” you asked, hesitantly. 

“Because you’re interesting to me. Like a puzzle. And I feel like there’s a lot more to you than from what I’ve seen and I want to know more.” 

You let Bucky's words settle, rest in the western air. They hung low over you, like a physical force. You're interesting to me. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction that feeling was mutual.

 “I’m glad you think I’m entertaining.” you shrugged, trying not to show how his words made you feel. 

“Come with me to the Lounge.” Smoke trickled from his rosy lips, and you watched the ash fall to the dirt before squished the but into the wood. What like… right now?” you asked, confusion spewed across your features. 

The Lounge was the towns local bar, its dark and grungy vibe off putting to you. The bikers often hung out there, the misfits throwing back drinks like it was no tomorrow You had never been to a bar before, let alone one where Bucky and his crew practically owned. 

Between its southern gothic walls was nothing but smoke and cheap booze was what your father told you, highly suggesting you steer clear of the towns local hangout. So naturally, you flinched. 

“Everyone's there right now. It’ll be all good, I promise.” 

“So why aren't you there then? At your ‘spot’” you air quoted, making him laugh. It was low and husky, tinging your skin warm with heat despite the cooler air.

 “I left to come invite you. Don't make me look stupid. I can't show up empty handed.” he teased, and you felt an obligation to follow in his footsteps as he rose, brushing off his jeans. 

“I know its a Saturday night and all and I’m supposed to be out but I’ve never… its not my territory.” you shrugged, rubbing your arms in comfort. 

“You're welcomed there. I promise. But if you don’t feel safe, or comfortable, don’t worry about it. I just wanted to see if you’d be willing, is all sweetheart.” 

You sighed. The right thing to do would be to shake your head no, grabbing the bottle and heading in for the night. Leaving him on the porch, with his bike parked down the street for himself. 

But you couldn't leave him. Not now. Not when you finally had the guts to properly answer him in a conversation, even if it was ambushed onto you on your own property. 

“Fine. But don’t make me regret it.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

If the wind was chilled before, it was crisp as ice now. You clung to him as he sped down the old roads, barley daring to breathe as the engine throttled, revving onwards as he laughed. 

The breeze roared in your ears, whipping through your hair that escaped your the helmet he had conveniently packed, an extra. Fingers were clenched tightly to the deep maroon of his henley, bunching as you hugged him tighter. 

This was the closest you had been to him, ever. On the back of his Harley, zipping down back roads you knew took you the longer way to the bar, as if he was intently wanting you to cling to him tighter the faster he dared to go, for as long as possible. 

It was frighting, but exhilarating. Like a wave of cool water on a hot day. It was refreshing to see the endless bounds of wheat fields and old barns through he shade of the viser, a taste of his lifestyle. 

You almost wanted to throw your hands up, to feel the air rush through your fingertips. 

“You doing okay doll?” he roared over the whip of the wind, glancing at you with a smile though the side mirror. You nodded, to frightened to speak, throat parched dry. 

Before you knew it, you emerged from the cool, undertones of deep blue,bright light shinning from the distance. You could already make out the bundles of people scattered in the parking lot, gripping Bucky tighter as the two of you slowed. 

Bikes were parked everywhere, and you could remember some of them from the other day from the gas station. No familiar faces. The world came into focus as he parked, helping you down and slid off your helmet, bursts of talking laughter and music swarming your ears, the lights seeming brighter without the blur of your viser. 

It was busy, but that was expected. Bucky had already told you everyone in town was here- the misfits at least, but it didn’t quell your anxiety any more. 

Part of you wanted to grab his hand, scared of loosing him in the crowd you were about to face, but he had already done that for you. His large, slightly rough, callused hand was warm as it enveloped yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. 

“We can leave at any time. I’ll be with you honey. Promise.” he reassured as you nodded, looking over at the dozens of bikers that scattered along the outside of the bar. 

They took no notice in you, minding their business as they chatted away, smokes in hand. Good. No one was gawking yet. You hoped it would be like that the whole time- but you knew it wouldn't be. You stood out too much, and it was because of your lack of spunk for once, and not the other way around. 

Plus, anywhere Bucky went, people stared. It was hard to look away from him. You knew from personal experience. 

Loud bustles of music streamed from the speakers with the murmured of dozens of voices, swarming your head as you took in the scenery. There was leather everywhere, smoke blending in with the neon signs. Dart boards and pool tables were all occupied, bartenders buzzing like bees in a hive as they poured drafts and shook cocktails. 

“Where are we going?” you asked him, leaning in closer as you squeezed by the other bodies that crowed the space. 

“Where it’s quieter.” 

You prayed it was also more secluded, as the eyes began to follow you. Your little white dress was no match for the sea of dark neutrals here. Bucky’s group appeared, sprawled in booths around the back wall- like it was their territory. 

You didn't know if you felt welcomed or not, feeling like a show pony on display as the stared at you. “She’s here!” the blonde on called, smirk wide on his face as he looked at you. 

Steve. You knew him right away, always seeing him appear next to Bucky, front and center. The right hand man. 

Then there was Sam you learned as you sat down next to Bucky, giving you a little wave before downing the shot he had in front of him, always seeming to be in the shadows. 

There was at least ten of them, all of them as eager to meet you as the last. Like they were infatuated with you. Before you knew it, dozens of drinks were sent your way, and after about two beers you had somehow landed directly on Bucky’s lap. 

“So your the girl who turned Barnes soft eh?” Sam asked you, making your eyes widen.

 “What do you mean?” you asked timidly, wiggling your hips anxiously. 

“Oh doll he doesn't mean literally.” Bucky chuckled, and you felt a very prominent bulge press into your ass as his hands guided your hips downwards. 

Your cheeks burned with heat. Sam laughed, the smell of smoke heavy on his jacket, and whisky on his breath. Your head spun, and you felt yourself slumping  against Bucky the longer the night went on, starting to forget you barely knew him the way you wanted to- that this wasn't your crowd. 

“You okay?” he murmured against your head as you gripped his jacket, blinking slowly. 

“Mhm fine. Jus- drunk.” you hiccuped, breathing in the ceadarwood and smoke that clung to him. 

“I shouldn't have let you drink that much.” 

“You don’t get to decide that for me.” you snapped back at him, standing your ground. Bucky was already unravelling you in a way that made you feel vulnerable enough, you didn’t need him making decisions for you too. 

“Shes got a point Barnes. Pretty soon it’ll be the other way ‘round.” Steve announced, seeming to reappear from thin air as he slide in the booth next to Sam- twirling his keys around his ring finger. 

“Where’d you come from?” Bucky asked, eyebrow raised. You wanted to ask the same question. He looked like he was on cloud nine, eyes wide and sparkling, the booze giving his cheeks a tinge of pink. 

“Jus’ beat Romanoff at darts n now shes all pissy.” he laughed, and you leaned your head over the side of the concave to search for her.

 You liked her. She was the only girl in the gang, but her personality shined bright enough to be at least four. Her red hair was as fiery as her personality, and you would be terrified to piss her off. You were surprised Steve wasn't worried about her grabbing the dart and gouging his eye out with it. 

“She’s gonna beat your ass man. I wouldn’t put it past her.” Sam shrugged, making you giggle. You didn't know if it was the alcohol or the quiter atmosphere in the back, but you found yourself enjoying their company. 

The fact you had made Bucky ‘soft’, whatever that meant- made you happy. You wanted to be the only person who made him feel that way. “Cmon.” Bucky said suddenly, waking you from your drowsy state, leg bouncing to startle you. 

“What are we doing?” you asked as he shimmed the pair of you out of the booth, ignoring the looks the guys gave him as his large hand slipped in yours, thumb rubbing your skin in a soothing motion. 

He just smiled, that cheeky little smile you had seen him slide your way so many times- the one that intimidated you because there was no one a man like him could look at you like that and not be pulling your leg. 

But here he was, with you. Looking at you like that- and making it authentic. It was crazy to you how easy it was for you to be caught up with him, wanting nothing more then to seek his attention and validation. 

Though he was bad- and you knew he had done some very, very bad things- the warnings seemed to falter in your mind the second he flashed you that dangerous smile.

 “We’re dancing.” he shrugged, as if it was the most average thing for the leader of a biker gang to do.

 “Dance? But no one else is dancing.” you noted, confused as you looked around the room. Though more people had dwindled out over the night, there was still plenty of people here. None of them dancing, all of them staring. 

This establishment seemed much like a fight club and less like a dance club.

 “Awh you shy?” he teased, guiding you away from the bustle and the lights, towards the entrance. Of course he wasn't. He had no reason to be. You were sure Bucky had never felt shy a day in his life. 

“Do you blame me?” you demanded, eyes wide as he tugged you a little harder, nearly making you stumble over your own two feet. You wished you weren't so clumsy. Especially now. 

“We’ll go outside where its quiet. And then we’ll dance up a storm.” Bucky sung, spinning you around as he pushed open the front door, clearly drunk. 

You laughed, the chill air making goosebumps rise on your skin through your little dress, though the wine sloshed in your tummy made you feel giggly and warm. “I didn't think you were a dancer.”

 “Looks can be deceiving.” he replied, wrapping his arms around your middle, swaying you side to side as he guided you over towards his bike, parked next to the others. 

It was far enough from the human eye, but close enough you could hear the music as clear as day. Hands were wrapped around his forearms, gripping him tightly as he moved you, guided you to a state of serenity. 

“It's gonna be a fun summer shortcake.” he whispered, kissing your cheek softly, as if you were a piece of glass china, scared to hurt you. 

You let him. The sweet, soft melody trickled from the speakers, lyrics intertwining you to Bucky. Like it was made for him. 

Something's been feeling weird lately There's just something about you, baby (there's just something about you, baby) Maybe I'll just be crazy (I'll be crazy) And piss him off 'til he hates me

Yeah right... he fuckin loves me...

[sparklingsora]

Are you planning on rewriting any of the Hazbin Hotel songs for the Veeswap AU?

i actually have already! i've written veeswap lyrics for ready for this, here they are:

[Vox] Have you ever wanted something that was so clear in your mind That you could taste it? [Susan] You mean like human flesh? [Vox] Eh, sort of? It's a feeling like a rumbling in your gut That you could finally be faced with A billion needy faces I guess what I mean to say is For the first time in my life I might have to be ready for this Ready to be the one who's leading from the front Gotta come into my own Gotta reap what I have sown Gotta take charge and defend my hellish home And although I kinda feel unsteady Now I need to be ready for this [Vox] Have you ever felt like you're willing to die To save the people of your city? [Susan] By die, do you mean use my teeth to rip flesh apart? [Vox] That's a start! 'Cause right now we need a leader And it seems to me that destiny has picked me To be that, if you'll permit me So who's with me? [Vox] Wouldn't it be super to see more of Hell? Join up now if you like travel Come on boys, hop in the saddle! Lot of sights to see en route to my hotel Not to mention the camaraderie Yes siree, you'll form life-changing friendships And become a tight-knit crew [Alastor] And feast on all the angels you can eat [Vox] That too! [Cannibals] (WOOO FREE FOOD) It's time now to act They're on the attack When they move to strike We will fight, biting back We'll follow your lead We're eager to feed We'll sharpen our teeth for the heavenly feast From this moment on, you can count on us To be resolute and ravenous Our appetites are whet and we're set to seize the day So I say, oh hey, come join the flesh buffet [Vox] Okay, can we save the bloodlust for the fight? [Rosie] Oh, don't be put off by their snarling That's enthusiasm, darling! [Vox] I just hope they’ll channel that excitement right… [Rosie] Oh Vox, don’t worry ‘bout a thing Keep singing! [Vox & Rosie] We're super duper grateful to have you join the fray! [Cannibals] We can't wait to taste an angel's wings! [Vox] Okay! For the first time in my life Maybe I can be ready for this I can be the marshal leading the parade I can come into my own And I think I've always known My destiny could never be postponed When Heaven brings the battle here I must appear like I'm ready for this [Rosie] They’re dancing along! They’re singing his song! [Alastor] Surprised? Why, I knew he could do it all along [Rosie & Alastor] With just some glitz and flair, they’re under his spell Truly, his charisma has no parallel [Alastor] He’s found his resolve, it’s a treat to see [Rosie] True, my friend! [Rosie & Alastor] In the end, he’ll lead us to victory! [Cannibals, Rosie & Alastor] For the first time in our lives We know that we are ready for this [Rosie] We'll show Heaven a fight they won't forget! [Cannibals, Rosie & Alastor] It is time to take a stand [Vox] It is time to lend a hand! [Cannibals] Huzzah! [Vox] Against the angels and their deadly threat [Cannibals, Rosie & Alastor] We cannot take it anymore The time has come to go to war Prepare to fight, we're ready for this [Vox] I really hope that I'm ready for this

[middleearthpixie]

Something in the Night ~ Chapter Twenty-Four

Summary: Following the Battle of the Five Armies, a seriously wounded Thorin Oakenshield returns to Erebor to recuperate and eventually ascend the throne as king. With the deaths of Azog the Defiler and his son, Bolg, Thorin no longer has to worry about the bounty the Defiler placed on his head and can instead concentrate on restoring Erebor to its former glory. 

Nina Carren of Esgaroth has one goal—to make Thorin Oakenshield pay for unleashing Smaug the dragon unto her home—where he destroyed the town and killed her family. The Defiler might be gone, but his bounty remains very much in place, and she fully intends to collect on it. 

Finally, the opportunity shows itself for her to do just that, only to have it go horribly awry. Wounded and now at his mercy, neither Nina nor Thorin stopped to think what might happen, should things not go quite according to plan…

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x ofc Nina Carren

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 3.4k

Tag List: @mrsdurin @i-did-not-mean-to @fizzyxcustard @lathalea @legolasbadass

@xxbyimm @kibleedibleedoo @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @knittastically

@notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78

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@glassgulls @evenstaredits @heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms

@sazzlep @night-ace @lyl1pad @mistresskayla-blog1

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here. 

Darkness crept into Dale and Nina tried not to notice the passage of time, even as she lit the lamp on her bedside table. A sense of unease swept through her, especially when she went out into the sitting area, where she found Sigrid at the battered kitchen table, knitting. 

Sigrid said nothing, but merely arched an eyebrow and that somehow made her feel even worse. Had she been a fool? Had Thorin sought to get even with her by using her, making her think he felt something, and…

No. She refused to even consider the very notion.

“It’s almost eight,” Sigrid remarked, lowering her knitting.

“I know.” Nina sank onto the arm of the sofa with a low sigh, a feeling of idiocy swirling through her. “Perhaps my faith was misplaced.”

“I had hoped not.”

“So did—” The sudden rap on the door cut her off and her spirits rose as she did. Nina smiled over her shoulder at Sigrid. “Perhaps it wasn’t after all.”

Sigrid smiled. “Only one way to find out.”

Nina drew a deep breath to quell the thousands of butterflies that had taken up residence in her belly as she reached for the door handle. But when she pulled it open and her gaze alit on Thorin on the far side of the threshold, those butterflies multiplied tenfold.

He offered up a sheepish smile. “I know I’m late, but I do have a good reason.”

“Come in, Thorin. And then you can offer up your reason.”

He bobbed his head. “Fair enough.”

She stepped back to allow him room to enter the flat and as he did, he said, “Miss Sigrid, how do you fare?”

“I’m well, thank you. And yourself?”

“I’m good, thank you.”

Sigrid rose from the table, scooping her knitting into her arms. “I will allow the two of you—”

“No, there’s no need to leave, Miss Sigrid.” 

“That’s fine. I have a book waiting for me and you two don't need an audience.” She smiled. “It was nice seeing you again, Thorin.”

With that, she swept into her room, and Nina turned to Thorin. “I’m listening.”

“Oh, right. I was waylaid in Erebor.” He offered up a sheepish smile. “Balin was working on something for me and he was supposed to have finished it by now, but did not.”

“What was he working on? Something to do with Esgaroth?”

“In a matter of speaking, yes.” He gestured to the door. “Now, I believe I promised you supper, didn't I?”

“You did.” 

“Then come along and we will enjoy a meal not cooked out in the open by Dwalin.”

“We enjoyed several like that in Mirkwood,” she reminded him.

“And not surrounded by elves, either.” 

“Fair enough.”

Once they were outside, he reached for her hand, linking his fingers with hers, and as they touched, Nina felt the snap of electricity between them and wondered if she would always feel it. Thorin looked over at her, his eyes soft, and without a word, lifted her hand to his lips. 

“You felt it, didn't you?”

“Felt what?” He winked and his fingers tightened about hers. “Where should we go?”

“Anywhere but the Black Swan.”

“Agreed.”

They made their way along Stone Street, and out to the main street, which was twice as wide, but far more quieter at night than it would be come morning. Some shops had closed for the night, but plenty more remained open, their brightly colored awnings still unrolled over the doorways and soft warm light within welcoming any and all shoppers. 

“This city has come a long way,” he said, gesturing to the buildings to his right. “Half of these were in ruins a year ago. Now look at them.”

“The first few weeks here were terrible,” she told him as they strolled toward the low wall at the far end of the street, overlooking the plains, and in the distance, Erebor. “Thranduíl had been somewhat generous, bringing much needed food and clothing, but there were still so many people and so few resources. Bard proved his gift for leadership during that time. And it’s amazing what people can accomplish when they work together.”

She looked over to the west, where some buildings had been restored, but others were still in various stages of ruin. “An enormous troll lumbered through here, just swinging this equally enormous club this way and that. I’d never seen anything like it. He was horrifying, and so ugly, you couldn't help but stop and stare at him for a moment.” 

“I did not see the one who tore through here, but I've battled trolls before,” he replied, pausing to sink against the rough stone wall. “Before we reached Rivendell the first time. We’d stopped for the night and mountain trolls made off with several of our ponies. Fíli and Kíli took Bilbo in an attempt to get them back and we all almost ended up on the troll menu.”

“Ew. They are foul creatures.”

“That they are.” 

In the distance, pale gold light spilled through elegant bay windows and she nodded toward it. “The Provincial House. That’s what Sigrid gave up to share a tiny little flat with me.”

“I’ve spent more than my share of time there since Smaug.” His thumb brushed along hers. “The bowman has done well for your people.”

“He has,” she nodded, then gazed up at him. Moonlight danced lightly along his hair, glinted off the ornaments woven into the black strands, and gleamed off the silver streaking it. Without thinking, she reached up to brush her fingers through it. 

She let her fingertips trail along the braid woven at his left temple. At its end, a silver cube had been woven it. It lay heavy in her palm as she said, “What is this?”

“This?” He caught the braid from her, catching the small cube between his thumb and forefinger. “It was a gift, from my father.”

“An odd gift, that.”

“To Men, perhaps.” He smiled, letting the braid go slack. “But to dwarves? It is not odd at all. To dwarves, hair is sacred. That’s why you will not see a clean-shaven dwarf, nor one with what you would call a sensible haircut. We take great pride in our hair, and we protect it as if it were a living being.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “You’ve seen even the women have beards, and most of them are decorated and almost all of the decorations have meaning behind them. No one touches a dwarf’s hair unless he or she has proven themselves utterly trustworthy to the dwarf in question and has been given their permission to touch it.”

“I didn't know that. I just thought you felt it made you look more threatening.”

He grinned then. “Am I so threatening to you?”

“Well, not now. But when you first came through Esgaroth? It was easy to see you making someone uneasy. But at the same time, it was also easy to see why your men followed you all the way from the Shire. I’ve the feeling they would willingly die for you, if necessary.”

A hint of color rose along his cheekbones, only just barely visible in the moonlight. “I owe my life to them, all of them. But especially the hobbit.”

“Bilbo, right?”

He nodded. “Bilbo Baggins of Bag End in the Shire. At first, he had no desire to join us, no desire to leave his home and all of its comforts. And to be honest, I don't know why he changed his mind, other than he was afraid of what would happen if he didn’t.”

“You never asked him?”

That color along his cheekbones deepened. “I—uh—never got the chance. We had a bit of a falling out and it wasn't until I thought I was dying that we—that I apologized for my role.”

A hint of sadness crept into his voice. She moved to ease herself between his thighs and let her hands come to rest upon his powerful shoulders. “If you don’t wish to speak of it, I understand.”

He gazed up at her, his eyes soft and pale. “The memories are unpleasant. I put many lives at risk. I cost so many innocent people so much. You don't need me to tell you this, you know it firsthand.”

“I do, but… just… now you’re atoning for it. Look at this place,” she swept one hand out behind her, at the buildings that had risen from the ash, “and see for yourself. It was a ruin and now, it’s not entirely reborn, but it’s getting there. You’ve kept your word, Thorin.”

He brought his hands up to rest on her hips, his thumbs grazing along them as he murmured, “I love you.”

She smiled, then leaned in and caught his lips in a teasing kiss. His hands tightened on her hips, pulled her snugly into the vee of his spread legs, and when she drew back, she murmured, “I love you, too.”

“We should go find someplace to eat.” He rose without releasing her. “Before the hour grows too late and every place is closed.”

****

After a quiet supper in a cozy little cafe on the eastern side of Dale, they strolled back along the promenade, toward Stone Street. Her fingers laced with Thorin’s, her head resting against his shoulder. Nina was certain she’d never known the happiness, the contentment, like those swirling through her then. Everything was right in her world, more right than she could have ever imagined. 

“What’s on your mind?” Thorin asked, his voice low and gentle.

“Not much, really.” She lifted her head to peer up at him. “I’m happy. I mean, I’m still sore, but I’m happy.”

He released her hand, easing that arm about her shoulders. “Happy, eh?”

“Very happy. Why? Shouldn’t I be?”

“I didn't say that.” He pressed her against his side. “It’s a nice sight to see, you happy.”

“What about you? What’s on your mind?”

Thorin stopped then, stepping before her. “I am also happy.”

“Good. I’ve the feeling it’s been a long time since you were happy, Thorin.” She reached up to curve her hand against his bristled cheek. “And you should be happy.”

He blocked out the moon as he leaned in and their lips met softly. Nina melted against him, easing one arm about his neck and the other about his waist. He bent her back, his lips parting, his tongue meeting hers and her heart sped up at the slow teasing. 

Thorin broke the kiss slowly, pulling away to sweep his lips along her jaw, toward her ear, where he whispered, “I should see you home, mesmel.”

“I hate to see this evening end,” she confessed, tucking her head against his chest.

He wrapped her in his embrace, pressed a kiss into the top of her head, and murmured, “There will be more like this.”

“I certainly hope so.”

“There will. I promise you this.”

With that, she slowly pulled out of his arms, but caught his hand once more and in comfortable silence, they strolled back toward Stone Street. 

At her door, she smiled. “I had a lovely time this evening, Thorin.”

“As did I.” 

“Would you like to come inside?”

His eyes glinted and his grin grew feral to send heat spiking through her, but then he slowly shook his head. “As much as I would love to, I should be going. But, if you are free tomorrow afternoon, there’s something I’d like to show you.”

She nodded. “I’m free. I have to work tomorrow night, though.”

“I will have you back in time. I’ll be by around noon.”

“I’ll see you then.”

He leaned in, brushed her lips with his once more, and then stepped back. She opened the front door and reluctantly stepped inside and as she closed it, she heard a soft, faint whistle as Thorin strolled back down Stone Street. 

“You look happy.”

Nina turned to see Sigrid at the table, this time a book open before her, and she smiled. “That is because I am.”

“Because of your dwarf?”

“Because of my dwarf.”

Sigrid chuckled. “I must admit, you could do far worse than him. Perhaps he is not so terrible after all. Should I give him another chance?”

“I wish you would.” Nina crossed to the table to draw out a chair and sank into it. “You’re my dearest friend, Sigrid. I would like it if you and he could at least be civil to one another.”

A hint of color appeared along Sigrid’s high cheekbones. “Da did say he was keeping his promise, the one he’d made that night he and his company broke into the armory.”

“He is. At least, as far as I know, he is.”

“And we are out from under the Master’s incompetence as well. Did you know his lackey made a pass at me once.”

“What?” Nina couldn’t keep the disgust from her voice. “When?”

“I had gone to speak with the Master about something, something my father asked me to take care of for him whilst he was out on the water. And while I was there, in that gaudy house, Alfrid happened upon me and thought he might take a liberty or two.”

Nina couldn't help the shudder that rippled through her. Alfrid Lickspittle was every bit as sleazy as his name suggested and she did not envy Sigrid’s having to deal with him. “Tell me you punched him straight in the nose. Or somewhere it would hurt even more.”

“I wish. No, actually, I burst out laughing at him, which was terribly rude of me, I suppose, but somehow, I’m not at all sorry for it.”

“He was a horrid little man. If he touched me, I think I’d have to lop that body part clean off.”

Sigrid burst out laughing. “Nina, that’s terrible!”

“So was he.”

“I’ll not argue that with you at all.” Sigrid sat back in her chair. “Why do I think His Majesty does not make you wish to lop off any body parts?”

Nina could hold back her smile, heat spilling through her at the memory of her and Thorin in the infirmary the previous night. “No, he certainly doesn’t. Not one bit.”

“Well, I am happy for you. But know this, if he ever hurts you…”

Nina reached across the table to give Sigrid’s hand a squeeze. “Thank you.” 

The trek back to Erebor was uneventful for a change. Still, Thorin did not leisurely stroll home, despite his good mood. It was a clear, cool night, and the walk was pleasant, but even so, he felt no little relief when he crossed over the obsidian bridge spanning the narrow river before Erebor’s main gate. Perhaps one day he’d once again be able to travel without always looking over his shoulder, without wondering who out there might be taking aim at him, but it would not be today. 

A sigh bubbled to his lips. In so many ways, being just Thorin Oakenshield was far easier than being king. Oakenshield could come and go as he pleased, without worrying about any bounty on his head. 

He frowned. No, that wasn't entirely true, as Azog had put that bounty in place long before Thorin ever crossed Erebor’s threshold. He just hadn’t known about it until his not-so-chance meeting with Gandalf at the Prancing Pony in Bree that led to his decision to retake Erebor. 

So much had happened since that rainy night. So much, indeed.

“Ah, there you are.” Balin strode toward him. 

“You’re waiting up for me?”

Balin chuckled. “Yes, but not for the reason you might think.”

“A relief, that.” Thorin met him about three-quarters of the way across the Great Hall. “For what reason, then?”

“I’ve finished.”

Thorin halted his stride. “Already? You thought it would take several more days.”

“Well, I did at first, but then I figured out what was giving me such trouble and then, I finished it.” Balin offered up a proud grin. “Would you like to see it?”

“I would, yes.”

“Then come along. Your lady will be here come tomorrow, is that right?”

“Yes.”

“Then come with me and I hope you approve.”

Thorin fell into step alongside Balin to trek down to the lower level, where Balin’s workshop was located. “Why do I think that won’t be a problem?”

“Well, it probably won’t be, but still…”

“Balin, you know I trust you.”

“I realize that, but this is an important piece.” Balin glanced over at him as they descended the main staircase. “It is not every day the king is betrothed, you know.”

Thorin couldn't hold back his smile. “I do like how that sounds.”

Balin let out a soft chuckle. “I have to admit, they are not words I thought I’d ever utter, but here we are.”

“Here we are.” As they reached the landing, overlooking the treasure horde, he paused, hands on the marble rail. “Tell me, do you think anyone will have concerns where Miss Carren is concerned?”

“They might,” Balin admitted with a slow bob of his head, “for she is unknown to us. But, your people trust your judgement, so in time, if she’s won your heart, I’ve no doubt she will win the hearts of the others as well.”

Thorin turned back to the treasure, glinting beneath the flickering candles in their sconces high up on the stone walls. “Balin, there is something I think you should know. But,” he looked over at the dwarf who was his conscience personified, “what I am about to tell you must never leave this room and it must remain between you and I.”

“This sounds serious.”

“It is. And that is why you must give me your word.”

“Of course. You needn’t even ask, really. I keep what we discuss between us as a rule, unless you say otherwise. So, what is it?”

“It’s about Nina—er, Miss Carren—and how she and I came to be together.”

“Well, I know that already. Dís told me. She offered herself in service as a bodyguard of sorts.”

“Well, yes, she did,” Thorin hedged, linking his fingers. “But, that’s not quite the whole story.”

“Thorin?”

“You know of the bounty, do you not? The one Azog set upon my head.”

“Yes, of course. The Goblin King was quite sure he was going to collect on it.”

Thorin chuckled, remembering their time in Goblin-town. “Aye, quite sure, indeed. If only Gandalf had been in agreement with him.”

Balin joined him in his laughter for a moment, but then, his expression grew serious. “What about that bounty?”

Thorin hesitated, then drew in a deep breath and went into the story of how Nina came to be in his company outside of Rivendell. He waited for Balin’s shocked expression and was not disappointed as the older dwarf stared up at him in wide-eyed surprise. “Are you so certain marrying her would be wise, Thorin?”

Thorin scowled. “I told you, she has no intention of claiming that bounty any longer and of everyone, I’ve come to know her best. I’ve been alone with her, I’ve slept alongside her, and—”

“Here, you mean. On dwarven territory, within your kingdom.”

“No,” Thorin shook his head, “not only here. The first time we were together, we were in Mirkwood. And I was as vulnerable there as I would be anywhere. And yet, here I am, alive and well and in one piece.”

“Thorin, you cannot let this be known,” Balin told him, his voice low, “for should anyone else learn of this… the consequences could be dire.”

“And that is why this will remain between you and I,” Thorin replied evenly.

“Well, yes, of course, but does anyone else know?”

“Only you and Dwalin know. No one else does, not even Dís. And I fully intend to keep it that way.”

“I should hope so,” Balin told him with a stern look. “It would be disastrous, should this get out.”

“I know. In time, perhaps it won’t be, but for now—”

“It will be kept under wraps.”

“Good. And do not let it color your perceptions of Miss Carren. I assure you, she is not going to slice my head from my body any time soon.”

Balin shot him a long look, then resumed down the second staircase. “I certainly hope not.”

“Trust me.”

“I do. But I know you. I do not know her.”

Thorin rolled his eyes. “Give it time, Balin. It won’t take long for her to win you over as well.”

[presidenthades]

I am doing very minor revisions of Daemon’s Handbook (mostly formatting and continuity errors), and I wanted to do some behind-the-scenes commentary before too much time passes and I forget my original thoughts. Here’s Chapter 7!

(Note that these commentaries aren’t canon to the verse until/unless the author writes them into the series. I might change my mind on a few points later, but these are the thoughts I had while writing.)

If I had to pick a favorite chapter to write, it’s this one. It’s the first post-time skip chapter, so we get to behold all the children (now young adults) in full horny mood.

Also, Alyssa develops a personality, and BOY is it a personality. I originally planned to make her a female version of Aegon III, who is very quiet, but it occurred to me that a hellion would be more fun (and torturous for Daemon, which is the real goal in this fic).

Aegon and Aemond are supposed to return directly to King’s Landing and wait with their family to receive the Dragonstone party, but Aegon decided he couldn’t wait to see Jace again and Aemond only required mild convincing to go along. And yes, the boys took a bath first in some river so they look nice and groomed~

One of Jace’s biggest character quirks is anxiety. She has ALL the anxiety. Comes with being an eldest sibling and second in line for the throne. I don’t consider her shallow, but she perceives her appearance as an important part of her political and social toolkit because the society they live in puts a lot of stock in appearances, especially women’s. So she’s finicky about looking the right part for every occasion. (Also she wants to look nice for her husband whom she hasn’t seen in three years, nothing wrong with that.)

I made Luce a knitter, partly because I’m a knitter and I like incorporating my interests, and partly because I wanted to give her a textile craft that wasn’t embroidery. I hope I’m not being too biased when I say that in this era, knitted products (like socks) are more useful than embroidered products (like fancy handkerchiefs). The practical value of knitting, and it being an acceptable craft for ladies even if it’s not as popular as embroidery, seemed fitting for Luce, who isn’t super conventional but also not a complete rebel. I also really like the imagery of her sending flowery socks to the Stepstones for Aegon and Aemond and Grandpa Corlys to wear.

Daemon is fit for his age, but he’s in his 40s and he’s got a lot of old battle wounds, so chasing around toddlers is fairly strenuous. Also, toddlers are FAST. Alyssa is closer to three than two, and she’s spent her entire life trying to keep up with her older sisters, so she’s got a fairly good sense of balance and isn’t stumbling around as much.

“Pretty girl” is 100% Aegon’s pet name for Jace, and I’m using it gratuitously in one of the sequel fics, which is Jace and Aegon-centric. (I’ll have an update soon on what I’m writing next, but I’ve decided to break down the epic longfic idea into multiple, more manageable mid-length fics.)

Aemond thinks Alyssa is spooked by his eyepatch and scar at first, but she’s actually falling in love at first sight. 😂 She’s got heterochromia so she probably *likes* that his eyes aren’t symmetrical either.

Aegon and Aemond are no longer afraid of Daemon! They’ve seen a lot of shit in the Stepstones, so their middle-aged uncle seems like less of a big deal now. Poor Daemon.

Aegon and Aemond are currently 18 and 16, so I made their stomachs black holes like most teenaged boys. They also have been eating a lot of rations at the Stepstones, even as royal princes, so a “plain” meal at Dragonstone seems awesome.

I have nothing to say about the melons, except that I’m very sorry for Lucera 🥲

Idk why but there’s something about Jace being very dutiful and proper that attracts messy rebels like Aegon and Baela. Opposites attracting, maybe? Kinda like how Luce is on the wilder side but Aemond is super put-together. I’ve thought about a crackish scenario where Viserys messes things up (as usual) and betroths Jace/Aemond and Luce/Aegon. I think Jace and Aemond would get bored with each other while Luce and Aegon might accidentally kill each other.

Jace and Aegon know their siblings are being stupid about their feelings for each other. Jace tries not to meddle (she doesn’t like it when Daemon meddles so she resists the urge), and Aegon makes fun of Aemond in the half-hearted hope it’ll goad Aemond into doing something.

I like to imagine that Luce eventually invents double-entry accounting in this universe. I also think she’s a big fan of the abacus, which is a more visual way of keeping track of numbers. She also likes charts and graphs in general.

The three dragonglass daggers that Luce orders from the blacksmith are for her, Jace, and Joff. (Luce loves all her sisters, but she has a special place in her heart for the three of them who are full-blooded sisters.) Purple for Jace (royal color for the future queen), green for Luce (like the sea and Velaryon colors), red for Joff (Targaryen color, nice and bloody). She isn’t expecting her sisters to use them as weapons; she wanted to make a gesture before Jace’s official wedding, since it marks a huge change in their lives.

I keep describing Luce and Aemond’s relationship in this fic as Pride and Prejudice-esque, and I stand by it. Miscommunication, ego issues, awkward flirting, a failed first proposal. One commenter described Daemon as the anti-Mrs Bennet, trying his best NOT to let the girls marry. 😂 And if we keep the analogy going, Clement Celtigar is Mr Collins while Otto is the closest thing we have to Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

I established in the beginning that Daemon is very bad with feelings. This scene where he tries to comfort Baela is part of his character arc and emotional growth, but he stumbles a few times more before the end of the fic.

I am very pleased that so many readers pinpointed Joff/Daeron as black cat and golden retriever energy, because I was definitely going for that. Daeron spews a lot of word vomit in his one line of dialogue, but you might notice he mentions “I got that thing you really wanted.” See the final scene in Chapter 11 for “that thing.” 👀

Jace is making PR a priority in her reign (and before her reign). She’s observed how loyal the Dragonstone smallfolk are to the Targaryens and wants to spread that loyalty to the realm’s smallfolk in general. This is why she and Aegon do the flight into the city, and why she has her Princess Diana moment on the way to the wedding.

Chapter 8 commentary here

[astoldbyaja]

The Orisha and the Hashira- Ch.13

My brows knit together in confusion.

“Join your corps… as in become a demon slayer?” I asked. Lord Ubuyashiki’s smile remained on his face.

“More so as… a last resort for a threat if even the Hashira come across… a high ranked demon they cannot defeat.?” he said. I tilted my head.

“High rank?” I asked. My mother did not tell me that Japan’s demons have ranking systems.

“Yes, we call them upper moons. I would tell you more but there is no need to discuss such details as you are not a corps member. We both know of the power you and your brothers hold. If you are anywhere like your mother and father, you alone could take on all the Hashira. But you have already finished your war with the demons, so I will not try and coax you back into fighting as a slayer unless you desire it. If you decide to take on such a role, of course you will get your own Kasugai crow.

You will be of your own rank shared with the superiority and privileges of the Hashira. Like I said I will not ask you to take up that mantle. I simply ask you to join the medical team helping the wounded, the sick. You would be the Head Medical Healer helping Shinobu if the task becomes to great, or she must go on an assignment. Femi tells me you have the ability to bring the dead back to life without altering their minds for the worse. I feel with the threats we face, that could prove useful. If you so, choose. I’d also ask you to protect the Butterfly Mansion and its residents from any threats that would dare harm them.” he said. I took in his words listening intently at what was being asked of me.

I could go and live wherever I pleased, but I remained on the Mother Continent because I was seen as a deity among the people who have witnessed my power. They worshipped me, they brought me gifts and offerings in return for a successful future. It offered a safe blanket for me to live out my days and start a family should I choose to.

But things were different now. Kyojuro. My mate is here, and so I will remain here.

“That is quite an offer, Lord Ubuyashiki. Can I assume you’ve spoken to my brothers as well? I see no reason to accept an opportunity if they were not given the same chance. I suspect both of them will want to leave once your self-portrait is complete.” I explained. His eyes lowered toward my feet.

“Do you not plan to leave once the painting is complete?” he asked. I shook my head.

“No. I have plans to stay in Japan.” I replied. He smiled more.

“That makes me happy… but to answer your question I have spoken to your older brother. Bambaataa has graciously accepted a temporary position of being a demon slayer. It appears something in him has changed and he misses the thought of battle.” he said. I would say I was stunned, but my older brother is a killing machine. He’s fought in many wars just to sharpen his mind for fighting demons. But I wonder if our argument has added fuel for his desire of violence.

“I see… I know he will be of great use to you. But the Butterfly Mansion is Shinobu’s home. I doubt she’d want me moving about her home giving orders to anyone.” I replied. The lord gave a short chuckle.

“It was actually Shinobu’s idea to offer you such a position.” he said. I was taken aback by his words. Why would she do this?

“And Femi… he is not a fighter. Bambaataa and I would never permit him to take part of anything in regard to demons.” I said firmly. Lord Ubuyashiki gave a soft hum.

“You are right. I would never ask a child so young to take part in what we do. Femi is only here to paint and enjoy the experiences of Japan seeing as he has his two siblings to protect him.” he said. I nodded in agreement. Since Kyojuro is a Hashira, his life will always be tied to this organization. It is only fair I take part in it as well seeing as we both have a common enemy. I bowed at the man.

“I accept both your offers of helping the Butterfly Mansion and offering my services as a last resort in the protection against any demons lower or upper rank… I also do not mind going on assignments with the other demon slayers and Hashira if needed.” I replied.

Lord Ubuyashiki and Amane smiled and bowed back.

“Thank you, Daughter of Ayomide.” he said. I bowed once more before taking my leave. As I moved through the manor, I started to think of Kyojuro. Would he be happy about me joining the demon slayer corps even if it’s to help in the Butterfly Mansion?

“What no way!” I hear Femi from outside. I follow his voice until I am back outside walking on the engawa. I see my brother and many others. Tanjiro, Inosuke and my brother were standing before two men in masks and Bambaataa was beside them both holding a very large hammer.

“What is going on?” I asked calmly. Tanjiro whipped his head to me.

“Ayo, hi! I wanted to introduce you to some very important people! These are Mr. Hotaru Haganezuka and Mr. Kozo Kanamori. They’re swordsmiths whose community of other swordsmiths play a vital role in the demon slayer corps. They make our Nichirin swords, our blades are the only weapons that can kill a demon.” he said. I looked at the two men who just looked me over some.

“I see. It is nice to meet you both.” I replied.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Ayo. You must forgive the excitement on my face, but seeing the warriors who we were tasked to is very exciting.” Mr. Haganezuka said. He’s excited? I was curious of what he was talking about until I looked at Bambaataa who chuckling happily as he held his very large hammer off his shoulders. It was black as coal. Even Mr. Kanamori was eyeing the hammer giving gentle claps and praises to the weapon… almost as if he made it himself. I looked at Mr. Haganezuka.

“You were asked to make us weapons.” I concluded and he nodded.

“Yes. Lord Ubuyashiki asked for them to be created once you arrived. We have never made anything that is not a blade, but Kozo and I jumped at the opportunity to make something even better for demon slayers from Africa.” he said now turning behind him and pulling a deep silver Yari spear. The blade at the top I could already tell was sharp. My eyes widened as the man held it out to me.

“I offer you the Crimson Iron Spear.” he replied.

“And the Scarlet Ore Warhammer!” Mr. Kanamori added happily. All the while Tanjiro staring happily at us all and Inosuke was sulking for not having a cool name for his weapons. My eyes widened as I gently raised my arms to take hold of the weapon. It had such weight to it, but immediately my energy moved through it, and I felt an immediate connection.

“They’re beautiful.” Femi said and I felt my eyes water.

“Yes, they are.” I replied stepping back and gently moving the spear from left to right.

“With the swing of your hammer and a cut of your spear you will be able to slay demons with no issues.” Mr. Kanamori said. Bambaataa stepped back himself and together began to swing and spin our new weapons. Femi and the other two watched in awe as we moved our weapons around. I tossed my spear in the air; it spun so fast and fierce.

“Woah!” the three young ones said. I raised my hand and caught the handle immediately. I felt the raw power in it as I held it up to my face then looking at the two sword makers.

“You both honor me. Thank you.” I said bowing at them.

“Thank you.” Bambaataa said bowing as well.

“So, you two got new weapons.”

Everyone except my older brother jumped as we turned to see Giyu standing there.

“Giyu, when did you get here!” Tanjiro replied.

“Someone should put a bell on you!” Inosuke said.

“I simply came to invite Ayo to my estate so that we may spar. Maybe she would also like to use her new weapon.” he said.

“A spar, I would like to watch! Can I sister?” Femi asked.

“Me too, me too!” Tanjiro and Inosuke chimed in. I chuckled and nodded.

“I think that would be a lovely idea.” I replied before looking up at Bambaataa. “Would you care to join, brother?”

I could only imagine what he is thinking right now as we have not really spoken since our argument. I was sure he was still angry at me revealing myself and claiming a mate so far from home. Would he turn his back on me now? Am I no longer his sister?

“I will join.” he replied, and I smiled happily now.

After thanking the two swordsmiths, we departed to Giyu’s estate. It was pretty empty. Did he not have a family? Femi, Tanjiro and Inosuke stood watching with wide eyes as Bambaataa sat peacefully on the ground with his hammer laid delicately before him.

Giyu and I faced each other calmly. I had to remember he is a human so there was no reason to attack in a way that would cause him great pain, even if he is trying to cause me pain in return. This was also a good time to study a swordsman and his moves.

Kyojuro’s movements when fighting that demon on Mount Kumotori was impressive. It made me wonder about how he would fair in a fight against me. Maybe that’s why my brother’s decided to join and watch us today. Bambaataa has already fought Sanemi, and even now the wind Hashira is constantly trying to pick a fight with my brother. Does he see my brother as a challenge then?

“Are you ready?” Giyu asked removing his sword and pointing it at me. I nodded.

“Yes, come.” I replied firmly before tapping my spear on the ground and then I crouched taking my pose, holding it up firmly before my face. This energy it’s so powerful, and I loved it! I could not wait to use it.

“Phambili!” my brothers shouted in perfect unison. I screamed and glided swiftly toward Giyu who came at me as well. He was fast, but I was able to see him easily. We clashed weapons, I kept both my hands on my spear to hold against him and quickly, I spun to swing my spear to hit him from the side, but he dodges it. So, I squat swing my leg with an attempt to trip him. He jumps high in the air before soaring at me.

“First Form: Water Surface Slash.” he said calmly as he prepares his blade to strike. My body’s defense system reacts on its own, making the flow of water just a bit stagnant in his entire body. His entire body grows rigid, and he gasps and immediately falls to the ground. I winced and approached.

“Giyu, I’m sorry!” I replied. He groaned as his body shook some.

“What the hell was that?” he asked.

“Water stagnation. It’s a defense mechanism that happens in the body and it goes into a temporary shock. It’s very minor though. Maybe we should stop. It could happen again if my energy senses you trying to attack it. I’m so used to demons attacking that now my body only knows attacking first.” I replied moving to help him up. He held his hand up.

“Hey is the fight over already?” Inosuke yelled.

“I can control it, but it will take some practice. Maybe we should spar again once I have gotten it under control.” I replied. He winced and looked down at his sword.

“Allow me to help you practice control.” he offered. I tilted my head.

“Are you sure? You’ll probably get hit a few more times, but I think it would help me greatly.” I replied. He nodded taking a few steps back and holding his sword out.

“Come at me.” he said. And I did. The move of a swordsman is quite interesting to experience firsthand. These breathing techniques are amazing. However, I have forced my body to focus on not attacking when Giyu used a breathing technique. He was hit with water stagnation three more times, before my body grew use being attacked by a human. But that was just it.

I purposely let Giyu attack me with for different breathing attacks and also, they wounded me, it hardly did anything to me. Granted him being a human made him automatically weaker to me. Is that why these demons can have such an advantage over them? These Hashira could only do so much, could their powers really stop a demon of greater strength? I dodged his attacked easily, allowing only some to hit me to gauge their power.

I was cut a few times, only for my wounds to close. These attacks should have dismembered my arms when they came, but my body remained tight now allowing an attack to hit me. Yet a demon’s attack did considerable damage since the attack wasn’t of a human. I managed to cut and nick at his uniform, arms and legs to show I could easily have hurt him more but was holding back.

I swung my spear into the ground and caused a wave of water, taken from the air, to blast in his direction. He cut it in half, but I was already in front of him, using the water to pull me through the air.

He raised his sword to clash with mine, but I spun and tripped him with my spear before quickly moving to squat over his head, my spear at his throat.

His eyes widened as he looked up at me.

“You can see my every attack and counter it.” he said as if perplexed. “Any attacks that did land, you allowed it. You were testing the strength of my attacks. This was nothing for you. If I went all out… I probably still wouldn’t have scratched the surface of your power.”

I smiled sweetly and tilted my head some.

“You still fought well, Giyu.” I replied standing up and helping him up.

“Now I see why Sanemi keeps wanting to fight your brother. He’s incredible without a weapon but now…” he paused.

“Sister, that was amazing!” Femi called out as everyone approached.

“I’ve never seen someone move so fast before!” Tanjiro called out.

“Yeah, I couldn’t even see you most of the time!” Inosuke gushed.

“You all are strong, stronger than any Hashira I have seen. I am glad you’re on our side.” Giyu replied.

“Well don’t get ahead of yourself now, they ain’t stronger than me!” Inosuke said pointing at himself triumphantly. All the while Bambaataa began to loom over him like a shadow.

“Oh really, care to spar again with me boar head? Your swords vs. my Warhammer?” he asked. Inosuke immediately tensed, visibly shaking.

“Nu uh, not you! You fight worse than a demon!” he said pointing dramatically making Tanjiro chuckle nervously. I looked at Bambaataa accusingly.

“What did you do?” I asked.

“Taught him some manners.” he replied with pride.

“Ayo, I would like to one day test my abilities as well. Can we spar sometime?” Tanjiro asked. I smiled and nodded.

“Of course.” I replied.

When the moon was up high, my brothers and I sat together at the hot springs, my energy creating a veil around us yet again so my brothers could be exposed.

“So, I hear you agreed to help fight demons while we are here. It seems you needed something to do?” I asked Bambaataa. He was seated beside me as we watched Femi lounge in the water.

“The manner is shrouded in the demon repellent wisteria. If Femi stays here, he will always be safe. I have watched many of the Hashira train the younger slayers. I know all I need to know about this corps to know in the end they are useless against the real dangerous demons. Only a few of them are gifted and even that is not enough for the demon population that will grow.” he said. I smirked.

“So, you’ve taken it upon yourself to do some volunteer work?” I teased. He smirked.

“Might as well continue to show I’m better than them. I get to kill demons and have greater purpose until we return to the Mother Continent.” he said. Now it was silent between us, and Femi exited the water and joined us on the ground. He looked at me with worry.

“But you are not coming back with us are Ayo?” he asked. I let out a gentle sigh feeling the tense energy around Bambaataa.

“No. She will stay here with her flame lover.” he spat lowly looking down to the ground. I looked at him with soft eyes.

“When it is your time, you will meet your mate and so will you little brother,” I said smiling at Femi, “and whoever they are, you’ll know it was meant to be because you’ll be so happy. You won’t question why the universe chose her for you, but you’ll be happy to have someone you can cherish and protect. Only the gods know who is right for us and who is wrong.” I held my hands up to both my brothers.

Femi immediately took my hand and we looked at Bambaataa holding our hands out to him, and he crossed his arms with a pout before sighing and moving to take both our hands and we smiled letting our energy flow through the other so that we could connect in an entirely different realm. Fuzzy pink and white was all around us.

“My children. I am so glad to see you are safe.”

“Umama.” we said in unison.

“I hope Kagaya Ubuyashiki is being a gracious host.” she said.

“He is mama. He speaks highly of you.” Femi said.

“He is an honorable young man. I know the path he is taking to rid the world of demons, and I commend him for it. I commend all his children for making the ultimate sacrifice to destroy these demons. Many of us have done the same.” she said.

“What will be the next task for us after this mission is completed?” Bambaataa asked.

“Always so quick to jump back into the field my young son. The world is yours to explore, to figure out what is meant to be your next path will be your own journey.” she said. I looked down some feeling a gentle hand on my cheek, and I looked up to see my mother smiling down at me, her body in white and black dress, her hair braided back with the same white streak of hair going up her head and into her braiding pattern.

“You have found the man who is meant to be your mate.” she said. I winced.

“Yes, but he is not of the tribe. I mean why him?” I asked softly. She gave a loving yet curious stare.

“Are you not happy my daughter?” she asked.

“I- I am, but he’s not one of us.” I replied. She sighed shaking her head.

“Them, us… look at him and you will see his heart only beats for you. I know the only way for the Orisha to survive is to be with other Orisha or people of the tribe, but that is not the path that is meant for you.” she said smiling down at me. Her words brought me joy. She appeared before Femi placing her hand on his head. He smiled happily up at her. She stared down at him with a caring smile before that smile gently faded.

“Soon a time of great parrel will come for us you will have to make a choice- all of you will. You all will decide who stands and who falls by the end of it.” she said seriously. Her form appeared before Bambaataa and she caressed his cheek, a gentle tear streaming down her face as she eyed his scar.

“What parrel, Umama?” he asked.

One that will shape your futures forever…

I gasped gently opening my eyes to see we were on the ground again surrounded by the mist. My brothers looked from the sky and onto each other.

“What did she mean by shaping our futures forever?” Femi asked. We were all quiet before Bambaataa stood up.

“We will know when that parrel comes. But whatever it is, we’ll be ready.” he said. I smiled and nodded standing up too.

“That we will.” I replied. Femi got up and hugged me tight in agreement.

As the days went on, I threw myself into my new duties of the butterfly mansion. Femi continued his painting and Bambaataa was on missions with different slayers and sometimes Hashira. He joined Mitsuri on a mission much to Obanai’s dismay and even trained with Gyomei at his estate. Sanemi was definitely trying to get a mission with him to prove himself, but Bambaataa always denied a mission with him which upset Sanemi greatly.

“What you scared to fight a demon alongside me huh! Scared you’ll break your little hammer!”

I think he secretly sought my brother’s approval. But I could be wrong. I thought of Kyojuro, our crows delivering messages back in forth. His mission took an extra week as the demon he was looking for kept illuding him. I just wanted him to return to me safely.

I was given a list minute task of going on a mission with Sanemi. It seemed the demon we would be facing was partnering with other demons and Lord Ubuyashiki wanted to see how we faired together. Sanemi did not show visible annoyance, but I knew deep down he was. We were traveling quietly. It seemed he didn’t want to make small talk which was okay with me. He informed me of the difference routes we could take to the village.

“We could go through Asakusa, the district in Japan’s capital city of Tokyo, but due to not being allowed to carry our weapons we’re taking a side route that’ll be longer, but I’ve traveled on it. It won’t take up too much.” he said. I nodded.

“I understand.” I replied. I felt my walking falter as I placed my hand over my stomach. I could feel the mild cramping sensations in my pelvis. This was odd. I then felt a gentle leak in between my thighs, and I stopped looking down at the ground. Sanemi stopped and looked back at me with a frown.

“Why’d you stop, don’t tell me you’re getting hungry or tired already.” he said. This was impossible. I was so very still, looking down at my stomach for a second. I then moved off the road and over by a tree. “Hey!”

I hid behind a tree briefly and lowered my uniform so I could see the inside. I flexed a bit. Spotting. So, my body has finally developed. My uterine lining is shedding, and this was so very bad.

“Sanemi… go on without me I shall catch up!” I called out.

“What? What the hell are you talking about, I’m not leaving you behind! I don’t need to hear any shit from Bambaataa if something happens to you!” he yelled. I took a few breaths and turned back around and approached him.

“It is dangerous to travel with me now for a few days. Go up ahead you’ll be safe.” I replied. He looked me over with a shake of his head.

“Why, what’s going on Ayo?” he asked.

“I have… started my monthly menstruation.” I sad. His eye twitched.

“WHAT!” he screamed, and I nodded.

“Yes, but it’s different with Orisha women. My blood becomes a dinner bell for demons. When the sun goes down, they will come. I can fight them on my own, but I will not have you in the area when it happens.” I replied. He grumbled and crossed his arms, his face growing a shade of pink as if uncomfortable with this discussion.

“Don’t worry. I have a unique blood type that also attracts demons to me. If they attack, I’ll cut myself and draw them away from you. You head to Asakusa, and I’ll find you there.” he said. My eyes widened as I stared at him and shook my head.

“What, no I won’t leave you behind!” I replied making him growl.

“Don’t argue with me! I can handle myself! Just do what I say!” he demanded. To say I didn’t believe in this plan was an understatement.

But when the moon came, the demons came with them in droves. This was far worse than any I had seen in my homeland. I was in awe at Sanemi’s power as he cut them down after cutting his chest and drawing them away from me. I killed a few myself however that did not stop a demon from lifting me up by my leg and planting its nose in my crotch. Its head was immediately cut off and I landed with a thud.

“WHAT DID I SAY, AYO! RUN! GET OUT OF HERE!” he yelled. I winced and yelled in frustration before turning and fighting my way through the demons that came at me. I ran for what seemed like hours, until I could see the lights of a city up ahead. I could read and smell so much water. It was Asakusa, I made it. I slowed my run and looked behind me as if thinking I would see Sanemi. But he was not behind me. I was covered in dried blood. My wounds had healed but I was still covered in both blood from my top and between my legs.

As I was drawing closer to a crowd, I stole a scarf from a small shop and wrapped it around my head. Like that would do anything to hide my skin. I caught attention, but I kept my head down. However, this city was beautiful!

There were bright lights and delicious smelling food. I saw a bench and moved to sit on it, panting gently. I was glad I did not have my spear. I did not feel I was ready to use it in battle just yet so I left it at the Butterfly Mansion where it would be safe.

I took a few deep breaths and looked around for a moment. I was all alone in an unfamiliar place. But that’s okay, because I was sure if I stayed right here, Sanemi would find me. I hoped he was okay. A few people were walking past, and I immediately looked down and placed my hands between my legs. Once they passed, I glanced up feeling a strange sensation around me. Something was approaching, something was coming but I couldn’t place it.

“Excuse me miss. Are you lost?” A man now stood before me, smiling gently at me. He was pale with a black suit and white pants. I shivered immediately, his piercing red eyes already telling me all I needed to know from him. He was a demon and quite a proud one at that. But something about his face, his eyes, have I seen them before. I slowly stood up, remaining cautious of him. He was trying to appear friendly. I’ve never seen a demon act like a human before. I gently removed the scarf and the look in his eyes seemed almost genuinely happy.

“No.” I replied and made a move to turn to my right but then he was right there.

“Please do not be afraid. We both know what I am, but I also know what you are, Orisha.” he said. I was tense reading his body. No water was in him. “It has been too long. I have truly missed you.” I looked him over with suspicion.

“I do not know you. I have never met you before.” I replied. He continued to smile.

“You’ll remember me soon enough. Come let me take you somewhere safe, your blood is quite exquisite and although I am immune to its smell, we don’t want to attract other unwanted attention, would we?” he asked raising his hand out for me to take. I was already distrustful of him. I’ve never willingly touched a demon except for Nezuko. I couldn’t get a complete read off of his energy. He’s a demon so he’s evil right? But Nezuko isn’t. For once, I was completely beside myself with this demon, but nonetheless, I raised my hand.

“Who are you?” I asked placing my hand in his. He tilted his head to the side continuing to smile warmly at me.

“My name is Muzan Kibutsuji.” he said.

[asukaskerian]

monthly word count - february

TOTAL: 6 014 ... eh. to be fair i spent a lot of time being depressed this month. :X turns out unstructured vacation time is bad for my mental health! POSTED: none of this month's writing! BUT. Also posted!!! -Pack fuckening ABO chapter FIVE canse the chapter got so big i had to cut it in two (you guys are gonna laugh, i'm planning to rewrite the tiny little epiloguey bit and i might have to post it separately as well. whoops.) IN PROGRESS -Bleach: pack fuckening ABO (3 311 words) -Naruto: cherry wine - madatobiizu ABO (438 words) -Bleach: suburban OT4 (903 words) -Bleach: psychic wolves (1 362 words) yes indeed i did start writing the psychic wolves for lupercalia and then BAM writer's block and the day passed me by. bluh. also i added like two words to bloodsport but i ain't counting those. no teaser for pack fuckening since ideally it'll be posted soon! and a pretty small one for cherry wine because otherwise i’d be posting all of it.

-- cherry wine :/ -- "Did he say anything to you?" Izuna asked. The genjutsu had showed them moving lips, but the sharingan didn't record sounds; any impression of noise transmitted came from the imperfect kind of memory. Adrenaline made it hard to concentrate as well on accurate understanding. "Something about... Making the lesson stick this time," Naohime replied, eyes lowered, tone subdued. "That he would teach me respect, since Madara-sama couldn't be bothered." A reference to the clash in front of the daimyo's brother. Clear establishment of motive. Tobirama finding her punishment too lenient, or even suspecting it to be entirely absent, so taking it upon himself to take care of it. "Hm." Izuna leaned back, crossing his arms, eyebrows knit in thought. It made him look displeased enough that Naohime flinched, a bare hint of movement but from her significant enough. "Anything else? No? Then..." His eyes glided past Daichi, the brat tense and staring, vibrating with the desire to come closer, landed on Higashi. "Hey, card-cheater." "Aw, Izuna-sama." "Settle her down." Izuna made the hand signal for alone-isolated-stranded, but turned inwards instead of out as the gesture went when picking out an easy target, hinting... Ah. Not alone, alone, but without-littermates alone, and the hint of movement toward Izuna's own waist inviting Higashi to compensate for that somehow. Madara considered the variation on the established sign absently, head tilted. Should they create a 'this ally needs comfort' sign...? Hm. One would probably emerge on its own. Battle-sign was fluid enough... The other Uchiha keeping their distances, Madara and his littermate went drifting down the secured corridor, eyes scanning the varnished wood for telling scuff marks. -- suburban OT4, nel attempting to get grimmjow to sext -- Goat: okay, picture this. nineteen, five months pregnant, sleeping under a bridge. Me: alone? Goat: don't interrupt me. Me: who knocked you up Goat: idk some jerk Me: hn Goat: grimmjow. >:( Me: yeah fine ok. sleeping under a bridge. Goat: suddenly, guy in a limo. Me: suspension of disbelief crashed Goat: fuckin pick it up then! Guy. In a LIMO. Goat: by the way it's also raining copiously and my tattered t-shirt is sticking to me like cling wrap. Me: ...... ok how much thought did you put into this Goat: ANYWAY guy brings me to his manor (shut up. Yes the manor is essential and also their bed is like the size of two parking spots.) Goat: hot bath with bubbles, five courses dinner, etc etc etc. then comes the time to pay my rent with my body, BUT! Goat: intimidated, i believe he will then ravish me!! Me: and then you wonder why women take ten centuries to nut. If you gotta rewrite war and peace first Goat: shuuuut the frickfrack up Goat: it turns out! I am not for him! His beloved wife is in a tender condition (swooning, possibly also pregnant) and he, too vigorous and virile, etc etc Goat: just saying, i would go down like the titanic. Me: uh huh Goat: very grateful and also very seduced etc etc, him looming sternly to ensure i do it right, her overwhelmed, never knew the touch of a woman, yadda yadda Me: i'm still stuck on how SOME GUY got you pregnant and fucked off Goat: OKAY FINE there's this sexy bad boy who knocked me up, condom broke, i didn't tell him BUT he finds out, comes to find me just in time to see the limo take me away! Goat: climbs the wall to rescue me from my lascivious captor Me: if i gotta keep dictionary.com open for this Goat: >:////

-- grimmichi psychic wolves -- "Okay, when you said 'I know where we can hide,' I'm gonna be honest, I didn't think you meant a love hotel." Studiously avoiding looking too closely at the wall of dildos, Ichigo took a cautious step away from the door he had just locked behind them, and re-locked to be sure. Further into the room Shiro padded cautiously along the walls, throwing disgruntled commentary about the nose-burning smells of cleaning chemicals and the stink of human upon human and all their sweat and sex. As love hotel rooms went, this one was pretty tame. Sleek black fixtures and spooky purple lights that illuminated jack shit, a huge bed, and behind a glass wall (to keep from getting the bed drenched, he assumed) an entirely transparent bathtub under what seemed a surgical suite's worth of floodlights. Also each dildo had its little spotlight inside its little glass case like they were a rock collector's exhibit but he wasn't gonna -- "You take one out and we're gonna get billed for it," he warned, ears burning, as Grimmjow poked at a two-tipped monstrosity. Grimmjow only hummed vaguely and went back to the crate they'd somehow managed to smuggle inside. "How did you even know about love hotels anyway?" "You kidding?" the other man replied absently as he fit his fingers in a gap between the crate and its lid. "That's the only part of your culture that stayed even a little bit interesting, after Aizen and Tousen killed the samurai shit with their fuckin' pontificating." Ichigo scowled. Didn't find anything to reply, though. After what had happened to him on its soil, Grimmjow was entitled to dislike Japan. "Not that we were allowed to visit anything anyway... C'mere, hold this open." Ichigo went to hold up the lid. Inside, Pantera lay unmoving, a puddle of inky fur; didn't stir when Grimmjow bent over the edge of the crate to press his hand against her flank. He didn't say anything. Ichigo tried not to stare too obviously as he tried to read Grimmjow's face, tried to find worry or relief or anything at all. The pack bond between them had gone placid and flat like the surface of a deceptively slow river -- all sorts of things moving underneath and none of them for him to see. They'd abandoned the truck and the man had gone into commando mode, or Ichigo assumed -- swift decisions, swift movements that ended up feeling choreographed in advance for how seamless they were. Grimmjow had stopped them on a dock and swiped an unattended dolly like he'd had every right to make off with it, swiped a crate the same way -- tipped his wolf into it from the lip of the truck and off they went to steal someone else's flatbed truck, someone's jacket off the back of a café chair, someone's wallet out of their back pocket. Ichigo had trailed after him like a lump and tried not to look too spooked.

[seducemefanficsandheadcanons]

Tangled Destinys

Chapter Four~ I'm here, I'm there, I'm everywhere

Chapter summary- Adira helps the boys, and her mother shows up, sort of.  Minor depictions of injury ahead

Chapter title from Can't Catch Me Now by Olivia Rodrigo Imagery is difficult for me, definitely one of my weakest spots in writing, so I was proud of myself when I finally finished this chapter.

James, Erik and I all sat around the table, observing the necessary objects for the spell. In the middle of the table was a large, yellow and purple flower. I found myself getting lost in observing the petals, basking in the energy and warmth it emanated. James cleared his throat, gathering my attention.

“Miss, are you sure you are prepared to do this? You used a lot of energy last night.” His brows knitted together, clearly showing his concern. 

I merely smiled and nodded. “Yeah, I can do this.”

He nodded, and Erik smiled. “Princess, should you pass out or become unable to finish the spell, I will take over.” He reassured me.

After a few moments of meticulously checking and rechecking to be sure that everything was prepared, I began the spell. I let my energy embrace the objects on the table, which were slowly beginning to levitate- each item except for the flower. I closed my eyes, my view transformed into a golden haze rather than the darkness behind my lids. I visualized my form, an outline of my physical self and a purple orb in the center, a representation of my energy and magic.

I summoned holy magic, white light intermingling and swirling with the vibrant purple. The orb began to pulse as the glow intensified. I felt my fingers tingle and burn at the sensation, affirming that the spell was working. I continued to expand the magic, until I could picture it surrounding the yard of the mansion.

Satisfied, I slowly drew back my energy, slow enough that I wouldn’t faint, until my gaze was dark again. I took a deep breath and opened my eyes, seeing the table and its items were back to normal. 

I looked at the boys, who each had a look of awe and shock on their faces. I smiled, feeling the slight effects of casting the spell. “Did it work?” I asked, I needed to be sure.

James smiled as he spoke. “Yes, that should work. Miss, I must ask. How long have you been training in magic? You seem very powerful for your age.”

I raised my brows, shocked at the question. “For as long as I can remember.” I answered truthfully, glancing down at my mark for just a second.

“Well Princess, you are very talented. Thank you for your help.” Erik added, his typical flirty smirk plastered on his face with something unfamiliar behind his eyes.

I grinned at him before standing up. “It’s the least I can do, but I should eat something.”

After lunch, I decided to take a nap. The boys promised one of them would wake me up in an hour or so, so with that, I went up to my room to sleep.

- - -

I walked through a path in the woods, the ground covered in brightly colored flowers. I knelt down to touch some, lingering my fingers across the soft petals. I smiled, feeling at peace with my surroundings. After a few minutes, I stood back up and continued to walk. I wasn’t sure where I planned to go, but I knew I was looking for something. 

Suddenly, the flowers shriveled and wilted, any present birds flew away in a panic, and I felt majorly uneasy. I looked around, summoning a weapon and taking a battle stance. No attackers were in sight, just the feeling of restlessness lingered. As if time was moving in reverse, the flowers became the same pigment as before, the birds returned, and I felt calm and serene once again. 

I took a deep breath and began to walk down the path once again. I kept observing my surroundings, basking in the warmth the sun provided and the sounds of nature. I walked for what felt like hours, and I suddenly spotted what- or who I was looking for.

“Mother?” I asked, recognizing the familiar woman in front of me. My mother was beautiful, I always envied that of her. She had long raven colored hair and bright blue eyes, both of which I inherited. Her skin was perfect compared to mine, lacking any freckles or small scars I’d been taught to hate over the years.

One thing stood out to me, however. Her wrist lacked the mark of a hunter. I stepped slightly closer, briefly glancing down to see my mark had disappeared as well. Seeing that, the lack of evidence of my fate, made my heart flutter. It felt freeing, like I could be my own person.

I almost hesitated as I walked towards my mother, but something told me I was safe. When I was in arm's length, she smiled warmly, a look I’d never seen from her face. She reached a hand and cupped my face, ghosting her thumb over my cheek bone. “I’m so proud of you, Adira.”

I felt my heart catch in my chest. My mother never said those words. Was this real? I felt tears threaten but willed them back. What had I done to make her proud? To earn this warm, kind version of my her? “For what, mother?”

His grin widened as she pulled her hand down and held my hand in hers. “You’ve proved yourself. You showed the angels just how strong you are.”

I tilted my head, my smile slightly falling in confusion. “How did I do that?”

She giggled, seemingly amused at my confusion. “You killed an incubus, Adira. 5 of them. You did it, and I’m so proud of you.” 

I felt my heart drop. I’d what?

I parted my mouth to protest, but without warning I felt an unbearable burning sensation surged over the vein of my wrist. “GAH-” I collapsed, unable to keep my knees steady from the sudden pain. The pain spread, my whole body feeling as if my nerves were on fire. I opened my eyes, looking at my wrist, my eyes widening at the sight.

The flesh of my wrist had become visible, the laceration in the shape of my previous demon mark. The surrounding skin had turned a sick combination of purple, black and green. I tore my eyes from the sight, looking at my mother for help, love, comfort. Anything.

Her cold and distant eyes had returned as she stared at my form, making no attempt to hide the smirk on her lips. Tears fell rouge down the side of my face. Was she behind this? I’d killed someone? I’d-

Suddenly, the world went black and the pain from my body vanished, aside from a slight burning in my wrist. I was no longer on the grass, rather than a void of emptiness and silence. I tried to settle my breathing, a distant voice catching my attention.

“Adira, can you hear me?” I heard Erik’s voice echo.

“Erik?” I called out, trying to look around the void.

I abruptly jolted up, my face wet with tears. I looked around my room, the boys, minus Erik, surrounding me. I immediately jerked up my arm, ripping my sleeves down my arm and stared at my mark. It had changed, more indescribable symbols in the circle while my wrist was red in irritation. Upon my panic, Damien quickly sat by me and took my arm in his hands. 

“Damien, what is it?” James asked, making Damien glance at him while I kept my eyes on my wrist, my hands trembling.

“I have no idea.” Damien admitted, making me panic more. He turned towards me, laying a hand on my shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay.”

I nodded, trying to calm myself. Just as I planned to ask where Erik was, he was rushing into my room and walking to sit by me. “Princess, was a typical tattoo ink used when you received the imprint on your wrist?”

I swallowed hard, still trying to calm myself. “I don’t know, I was pretty young when my mom did it. Why? Do you know why it changed?” I asked, hopeful for answers. Instead, Erik seemed even more panicked now.

“How young?” Sam asked, frustration and a hint of concern easily noticeable on his face.

I began to feel overwhelmed but answered anyway. “Around 5, why? What is going on?”

All of the boys had a sudden look of shock, minus Damien who just frowned. Was that not normal? Most hunters have the same mark as me, with slight variations. “Well, it seems your mother placed some form of spell, or curse, on you when she did it, giving her some form of access to you. Most hunters get the mark by choice once they are accepted by angels, and it is almost always done in the same manner as the typical human tattoo, with some exceptions.” Erik explained.

I furrowed my brows, growing more confused by the moment. “What do you mean, access?”

Damien placed a hand on my back as he spoke. “He means that she added a permanent energy trace on you, so that she can easily contact you through dreams. The energy trace isn’t quite strong enough to control much more than that. When she does that, due to the spell being accessed through the symbol on your wrist, it can cause pain and discomfort, but it shouldn’t have been to the extent it has today.”

James frowned as he spoke. “She must have done that on purpose as some form of punishment.”

I felt nauseated, pained, angry and sorrowful all at once. I took a deep breath and spoke. “So, the version of her in my dream…she made that?” I asked quietly, remembering my mother's words. She wanted me to believe I killed the incubi, that she was proud of me. Damiens nod confirmed my thoughts, and I blinked back more tears. “Is there any way to stop it from happening again?”

Erik nodded with a small smile. “Yes, Princess. I am part dreamstalker demon, giving me the ability to consume dreams.”

“That looks pretty irritated. Does it hurt?” Matthew asked, eyeing my wrist.

I shook my head, slightly curling into myself. “It’s bearable, compared to the dream itself.” 

James smiled at me as he stood up. “I’m going to begin preparing dinner. Let us know if you need anything.” He squeezed my shoulder before leaving, the others following. Sam, to my surprise, lingered for a moment.

“Hey, you should come do some tai chi with me. It might calm you down.” He offered, and I happily agreed, following him outside.

[starlitwinter]

XVII

Days of pure bliss passed for the two lovers. Harsh words and actions forgot for sweet whispers and promises. Nenlissë separated her time between Teivel’s home and Arafinwë’s castle. Nobody knew about their engagement, nobody had to know was what Teivel put in her head. A secret, just between the two. Theirs.

Nenlissë was caught up in her happiness to see the signs, the future arriving faster than she would think. One think was on her mind, or rather two. Teivel and marriage. How happy would her parents and family be when they’ll learn the news, she thought, how magnificent her life is going to be with the love of life. Was she wrong to think that? To believe that? Who knows?

—

The elf was satisfied with the situation. Everything was going according to what he had planned. The human, his human was sleeping beside him.

“So naive” he whispered, brushing her hair out of her forehead. “You don’t realize how much you’re helping me, lovely girl” he smirked before looking up to the sky.

“Isn’t funny, father? How she fell for my spell. How I made her my pet before you would use her as your puppet. I won this battle, father. And watch me won the war.”

He gave a last smile to the sky before his gaze fell on Nenlissë as she stirred awake.

“Did I wake you up, beautiful?” he whispered with a smile. Nenlissë shook her head, her eyes fixed on Teivel’s face with an access smile. “Not really…” she replied, softly turning around to lay on her stomach, her head resting on Teivel’s chest. The elf wrapped an arm around her torso and kissed the top of her head.

“Something is bothering you.” he stated. It wasn’t a question but an affirmation.

She looked up at him before sighing. “I don’t think I’ve been entirely honest with you, Teivel.”

He raised a brow “Oh really? Tell me, then.” His voice and eyes were a bit stern, but his actions weren’t, as he rubbed in circle Nenlissë’s back.

“Before… we met. I feel of a tree and was in a comatose state for around a hundred years. You know that.”

-I does

-During… my unconscious state… I saw Eru.

-Eru? You met Ilúvatar?!” he exclaimed, surprised, his thumb stopping their circles on her skin. Nenlissë looked at Teivel with a smile.

“I did.” she sighed “Maybe… maybe you would like to see what happened?” she proposed, purposely opening her mind and memories to the elf.

Teivel smiled contently and didn’t waited a second before intruding her mind, having been granted full access to her memories.

He suddenly frowned. “It seems like I can’t access to your memories… from after your fall and before you woke up. As if something or someone blocked them.” He opened his eyes “Maybe then you should tell me what happened.” Nenlissë nodded before beginning her tale.

“I had to… die. To reach the caves of Mandos, but Eru… told me my time had not yet come.

-He did, did he?

-Yes, he did. He half-explained that it was because I hadn’t realized what he had planned for me. I’ll bet I got mad at him then.”

Teivel let out a chuckle, " Mad? Sweetie, you… oh my goodness… you’re incredible.”

Nenlissë looked at him, somewhat surprised. “You’re not angry that I was upset with your Creator? Your God?” Teivel shook his head “No, no, of course not. It’s just… amusing that you stood up to him. He needs it. To be contradicted.” He chuckled “You stood up for your own destiny. You should be able to make your own choices, my love.

-I am? I thought every being were destined to a path Eru had made for them?”

“Of course not, darling. You are different. You are not like us! You are not from here, you can make your own choices about your life! And I am one of those choices. With me, you are better. We complete each other, love” He gently pressed a kiss to her lips but leaned back before she could reply to it. “Continue love” he ordered her softly, a hand rubbing her back.

“Well… I didn’t had more interactions with Eru. I woke up after that.” Nenlissë saw’s eyebrows knit together as he suddenly lost interest in the human. His eyes grew a little colder than usual and Nenlissë could feel him shift to put some distance between them. The young woman panicked, feeling her lover slips through her fingers and her dream of a peaceful life with the elf began to shatter under her eyes.

“But there is something else.” She blurred out, reaching to grab Teivel’s hand. “There is something else I need to tell you.

-What is it,” the elf asked, barely glancing at the human.

“It’s a secret only Manwë is aware off.”

That little bit of information pick his interest and he suddenly changed his demeanor, squeezing Nenlissë’s hand and interlacing their fingers together, smiling warmly at her.

“Really? What is that secret?” he asked, now profoundly curious “I am not… from here.” the human muttered. Teivel’s smile flattered. “Of course I know that, silly. It’s not a secret.

-No, what I meant is… that I’m from another world. I am not a child of Eru. Not from here.”

Teivel tilted his head to the side “Not from… here? What does that mean?

-In my… universe, this world is fictional. A man named Tolkien wrote it.

-So if I’m getting this right… In your universe, I’m not real.”

Nenlissë nodded. “That’s right. So…therefore… I’m aware of the future of Arda.”

Teivel’s eyes were like stars, his full attention on his fiance. “The future? You know the future?”

Nenlissë hesitate “Well… the future without me in it. Without me making modifications to it. In my world there is something called the ‘butterfly effect’. It’s when someone in the past change something that was supposed to happen and it change the future. It can have catastrophic consequences.”

Teivel just nodded before kissing Nenlissë’s lips “But you are to be my wife, you can tell me anything. I’m your shoulder to lean on, to tell every single thing that bother your little human mind.”

He kissed her temple “I am your freedom, lovely girl.”

Nenlissë just looked at him for a few seconds before sighing. “I am afraid of one thing.” She muttered.

“Tell me” Teivel whispered in her ear like a snake.

“It’s… something horrible is going to happen to the Trees.”

Teivel hugged Nenlissë, hiding his face to her by kissing the top of her head but she could almost feel his lips form a smile but she brushed it off.

“Melkor… Melkor and… a giant spider named Ungoliant are going to destroy them. And this horrible event will make fall a lot of elves into madness.”

Teivel stayed silent for a moment before kissing Nenlissë’s forehead “Unfortunately, I don’t think you can do something to prevent that, love. As you said, changing the future could have catastrophic consequences.

-I know… It’s just… so much people are going to die because of that. Maybe even you! My family is going to destroy them self…

-But you can’t do anything” He said again, kissing his lips “You seems tired, my love. Stop overthinking and sleeps. Tomorrow we will talk of happier things. We have a wedding to organize” He tease her with a last kiss.

Nenlissë simply smiled at him before closing her eyes and letting herself go to sleep under the victorious gaze of her lover.

—

“You seems to be glowing those last days, Lissë” Her mother pointed out during one of their stroll in the garden. “Am I?” Nenlissë smiled more “How so?” Eärwen posed one of her hand on the human’s shoulder “Well you seems happier than you ever been. Is it because of Teivel?”. Nenlissë just smiled more, a light blush covering her cheeks at the thought of her fiance. “You could say that.” Eärwen raised a brow “Is there some… news you would like to share with your dear old mother?” The elf glanced down at Nenlissë’s stomach. The woman followed her mother’s gaze and instinctively posed a protective hand on her empty belly. “No! No, it’s not that.”

Eärwen gave her a suspicious look “Then what?

-I’m… we’re…. We’re fiance.”

Eärwen stopped in her tracks “Fiance?”

Nenlissë just gave her a smile “Yes, fiance. He… proposed to me a few weeks ago.”

“That’s… amazing! Congratulations!” Eärwen beamed with pride “I’m so proud of you, Lissë, that’s awesome! Do you have a date in mind?”

Nenlissë laughed with her mother “I don’t know yet. But he wants for it to be the earliest possible.” She giggled like a maiden.

Eärwen smiled at her daughter’s joy. “That have to be before the high feast in Valimar.”

Nenlissë suddenly stopped in her tracks. “The… High feast?”

Eärwen nodded “Exactly, in around two month from now, we’ll celebrate Eru in the Halls of Manwë and Varda.

-In two months?!”

Eärwen just chuckled at her daughter’s reaction. “Do not worry, my Lissë, we can manage to arrange your wedding in less that two months.”

Nenlissë was frozen, the reality of her situation finally coming to her and she was beginning to panic. Eärwen seemed blind to the human’s state and continued to talk about the incoming wedding.

“Maybe in a month? If we call for a seamstress now, your dress would be done in time. We’ll obviously do the ceremony here.”

Nenlissë took a long inhale before giving a smile to her mother and cutting her in her ramble.

“I’ll talk about that with Teivel. As soon as possible.”

Eärwen smiled more before asking. “Will you stay here tonight? Your father and siblings miss you”

Nenlissë looked up at the sky and replied. “I think I’ll stay for dinner. It’s been quite a time since I last stayed here.”

Eärwen took her daughter’s hand and led her back into the castle. “And there is a guest you’ll be delighted to see” The elf added with a wink.

[fleurcareil]

East & South Labrador

Drove this day another 406km through the boreal forest from Happy Valley - Goose Bay to the tiny hamlet of Port Hope Simpson, which brought me back to the coast, this time the eastern Labrador shore! Apart from Labrador being the "Big Land" of forests, it's also the big land of flies, which is a bit of a shock to the system after not having had any yet in my travels so far (mosquitos yes but flies are worse). There's the huge flies that sound like a bomb is ready to go off when circling your head 😳 and the tiny ones that are barely noticeable but swarm you in their hundreds. Like a woman told me earlier this week; "they all bite and they're hungry!" 🥺. I had managed to dodge the large flies as they're rather slow but impossible to escape the midgets, however generally there's much less of anything on the coast so that's good news!

I won't bore you with more pictures of ugly trees, but instead here are two from Port Hope Simpson, where - you'll guess it - the first stop was at the gas bar (although I'm back now into safe territory with more gas pumps) and then checked in before 2pm already, even including an extra 30 minute Newfoundland time change, which happens somewhere obscure on the road (doesn't really matter where, as there's nothing anyway 😅). Walked a bit around the harbour and then spent à few lovely hours along the water reading a book - A History of Time by Stephen Hawking that my sister gave me 20 years ago and which is interesting but needs to be read piecemeal, it's been a while since I brushed up on my physics! 😝

In the morning, the weather had done a 180, and changed from a sunny 28 degrees to a foggy & rainy 10 degrees😢. For the next few days, I was bundled up in my thermal underwear, woollen socks (thanks Tara for knitting them!), 3 layers of sweaters, winter coat, hat & gloves, whereas record heat temperatures were broken around the world...

I arrived early at the Mary's Harbour ferry dock so that I could still do a short hike up & down the hill to Gin Cove, which is not too special but still pretty enough and got me warmed up before boarding the little boat to Battle Harbour Historic site where I'm staying the night on the island. Despite the poor weather, I preferred to stay outside to watch for icebergs & whales (none) but I do see a puffin! 😊 With me are two elderly couples from Nova Scotia and Newfoundland who I find out are hyperactive, still scuba diving, skiing and planning a 3-week ATV road trip on their 70th, something to aspire!

Battle Harbour used to be the unofficial capital of Labrador in its heyday when it was the largest cod fishing village on the east coast and had amongst others the first hospital and Marconi wireless station. Some fishermen would stay all year, but most would travel from Newfoundland for the summer. It started declining when the school was relocated to Mary's Harbour but still operated until the cod fishing moratorium was imposed in 1992. The village is now restored and run by a historic trust, which provides visitors an opportunity to stay through all-inclusive packages. Seeing slowly the buildings come out of the clouds as the boat approaches made it even more mystical!

I'm staying in the bunkhouse all by myself (which I had already been counting on 😁) which was the original cookhouse built in the 1770's. After delicious lunch, we were given an elaborate tour of the buildings, which was really interesting as it was led by a 6th generation islander, who had lots of personal stories of how she helped salt the cod. Similarly, the handyman on the boat was one of the 10-year old boys who found a plane wreck the day after it had crashed in the fog  (and which I saw myself also in the fog), so that truly connects the history to the present...unsurprisingly, they're still bitter about what happened with the fishery as it destroyed their community, and some of the blame was given to the sharply increasing seal population since the hunt was forbidden in the 80's, which likely has a grain of truth (though most of the blame went to the federal government)... Despite the pouring rain, I decide to take a little hike around the island in the hope to spot icebergs (as there were 3 the day before) but all I got were beautiful landscapes and getting fully soaked. 😜

Over the communal dinner table, I got to know the rest of the guests; an (apparently famous) painter from Newfoundland - Jean-Claude Roy who shares the same first name as my father & comes from the same French region, his somewhat eccentric wife and a guy from North Carolina who is shooting a documentary about JCs relationship with Battle Harbour where he's been painting for over 10 years. The other group consisted of 5 Swedish sailors who toured the world on a yacht, showing breathtaking pics of Antarctica and leaving the next morning for Greenland.... Needless to say that the evening, including a black-white 1930's movie about an Artic exploration followed by beers in the pub, provided lots of interesting conversations! Compared to this lot, my road trip is really not that special😁.

I try another hike in the morning but the fog is even worse, so I give up quickly and instead play a patience card game in front of the wood stove, much better! The way back on the boat is quite rough but all is forgotten when the captain steers us along an iceberg!!💖 I had already seen quite a few in 2010 in Newfoundland but very happy I saw one again! Back on the road, the fog was really bad but when I turned the corner onto the south shore, it suddenly disappeared and I see not one but 3 white blobs on the sea! 😊 Iceberg Alley made its name true and in the next two days I saw a total of 41 icebergs; anything from little "bergy bits" to tabular, drydock, dome & pinnacle shapes, very very cool & unique in the world! Most were farther away and could only be properly seen with the binoculars, but a few were close to shore.               

The Red Bay world heritage site has an interesting history of Basque whaling and a ferry ride to Saddle Island for an interpretative hike, but there's basically nothing left (or it was reburied for preservation) so there's a lot of imagination needed to gather what was there 😂.

After a late lunch I was ready to crash in the hotel being hangover from the night before, but decided to at least drive to the start of the Tracy Hill trail, which is notorious for its 689 steps. The trail builders included corny inspirational quotes to keep you walking, and I must confess that the first one did get me to actually start: "One day or Day one?".  Apart from pretty scenery, every step seemed to show more icebergs; 22 from the top, which was a perfect way to close the day!

The next morning, I woke up again in fog (getting fed up with it now!) so at the lighthouse at L'Anse Amour, I first drank my cup of tea in the car while checking out icebergs and birds. It's the tallest lighthouse in Atlantic Canada which my legs definitely felt when walking up the steps to the Fresnel lens & active light at the top. The Strait of Belle Isle provides a 200km shorter route to Europe than around Newfoundland, but has strong currents, up to 200km/hr winds & often ice, so it has had its fair share of shipwrecks & heroic tales of rescue.

Nearby, a 9,000-year-old burial mound of a Maritime Archaic Indian child was found, representing the oldest known human remains in North America but there's now nothing to see apart from pretty dunes. In L'Anse au Clair I stop at the lovely visitor centre in an old church and do a small hike to an abandoned fishing village called the Jersey Room, after the families that settled here from Jersey island near France.

When I cross into Quebec, it's suddenly 1.5 hours earlier! The entire Atlantic and Newfoundland time zones are undone in a split second, which confuses me in my day-planning and makes it a very loooong day. Checking in at the ferry terminal (more on that later), doing groceries and lunch kept me busy for a bit and then I was off to a viewpoint where I was told you could see one of North America's largest puffin colonies... which are on that island far away in the picture below... I could definitely see with my binoculars it was full of birds but whether they were puffins or gulls?!? 😂 Nearby were again lots of Eider duck so don't think they're that special after all... they seem to do well!

Driving west to the end of the road, there were some more pretty viewpoints and a waterfall, until I reached the Salmon Bay Farm, which is actually a scallops farm located in Salmon Bay. I've toured an oyster farm when I was little in the Netherlands and didn't realize there were also scallop farms until now. After a tour of the on-land facilities and explanation how they're cultivated (interesting titbits; scallop shells grow year rings just like trees so you can count how old they are, and they have up to 200 eyes along the edge of the shell), I chose the left scallop to taste raw (both the muscle and the roe, which were very tender) and also tasted two steamed scallops, which included also the roe as well as the baleen-like frill which is used to filter the water for nutrients. All accompanied with a glass of wine & finished with local jam biscuits, great experience!

Only 15 minutes more to the west, I reach the end of the road, thereby finishing my tour of Labrador of close to 2,000km! It was a long drive of, as someone put it; "trees and rocks, then rocks and trees, and after that trees and rocks again" 🤣 but very happy to have done it and seen this part of Canada! 🍁💖

The only way to complete my loop back to Baie-Comeau is by a 2-day boat trip west until I reach the village of Kegaska where the road starts anew. There's no ferry but instead a cargo boat, so my car needs to be shipped into a container to make the voyage, a first for me! 😃 I was supposed to report this morning at 5:30am but when I dropped by yesterday, I was told that the boat got terribly delayed...likely until 10pm - midnight tonight. Good news is that I could sleep in this morning (although wide awake at 3:45 due to the time difference) and that I have an extra day here - going for a hike once this is posted, but on the flip side, I might now stay two nights onboard sleeping in a chair instead of a hotel, plus may need to cancel an excursion I had already booked for after my arrival. Mother nature is in control so hoping there won't be much more delays! 🤞

As a side note, it's shocking to realize that the time is here the same as it is in Thunder Bay, over 3,000 km to the west! No wonder that it's light so early here...

PS. the boat's departure time has just been updated to 9am tomorrow morning so I can luckily stay another night at the hotel here but will need to adjust my plans forward. It's going to be an interesting few days ahead...

Distance driven this week: 1,954km

Icebergs: 1 from Battle Harbour boat, 6 from the road, 22 from Tracy Hill, 3 from L'Anse Amour, 4 from L'anse au Clair, 6 from Blanc-Sablon

Wildlife: 1 puffin (Battle Harbour boat), 17 female Eider ducks (Red Bay) and 50+ male Eider ducks (Blanc-Sablon), 1 osprey & 50+ Merganser ducks (L'Anse Amour), 1 mink whale & 1 seal (L'Anse au Clair)

SUPs: none

Hikes: one at Mary's Harbour, one at Battle Harbour, two at Red Bay, one at L'Anse au Clair

[chasing-ghosts-silhalei]

Chasing Ghosts - AO3

Chapter 26 Plans

[ Link to Tumblr Synopsis ]

“Maker, look at it. So much easier to ignore when it’s far away,” Blackwall murmured while gazing into the Breach. When he noticed Mithra, he turned and said, “And to actually walk out of it, to be that close.” 

She shrugged. “It wasn’t that thing. Just a smaller rift that opened right outside the ruins. Then Inquisition soldiers scraped my crazy ass out of the dirt and here I am,” Mithra muttered with a deadpan, “Yaaay.” 

Blackwall raised a brow with an amused smirk. “Don’t get too excited.” When she laughed, he smiled and poked, “And Inquisition soldiers? That’s not what I’ve heard.” 

She crossed her arms and cocked her hip. “In case you haven’t noticed, I really hate that story.” 

His mouth tightened into a line and he eyed her for a moment. “Right... I have to admit, I thought you’d be-” 

“Not an insane bitch? Taller? Beefier!” At his blank stare, she said, “Oh, you mean human.” 

“I- Yes.” 

She shrugged and muttered, “At least you didn’t call me a knife-ear.” 

His brow knit. “It was a foolish thought. Should’ve known better than to say anything. It’s what you do, and how you do it, that’s important.” 

“Yep,” Mithra muttered, then smirked and thought, ‘Oh, this poor bastard.’ 

He shook his head. “But the Breach, the Divine’s death, the Wardens… it doesn’t make sense. There’s so much we don’t know.” 

She smirked. “’We?’ Already feeling like part of the team, I see.” 

Blackwall smirked back. “Too soon? I thought we were starting to build a rapport over the past few days.” 

She shrugged. “Eh. You seem like a good one so far, but I know I’m an acquired taste. We’ll show each other what kind of people we are in time.” 

“You’re eager enough to kill bandits. I also heard you helped the refugees in the Crossroads. The others seem comfortable enough following your lead. That’s saying something.” 

She shrugged once more. “I guess. Anyway, just be there when we need you and don’t ask me too many questions.” 

His smirk widened. “I like a woman who takes charge.” 

Confused, Mithra squinted at him. “What?” 

His eyes widened. “I didn’t mean to offend.” 

Still squinting, she muttered, “I’m not...offended, it’s just-” She wanted to ask why, but didn’t at the same time. 

Blackwall cleared his throat. “Of course. We’ve only been acquainted a few days. Sorry about that. Just one question then. How do you fit in with all this?” 

“That’s the thing: I don’t fit. I’m a paranoid, feral, abrasive asshole that belongs-” She waved toward the mountains. “-anywhere but here. This shit’s been challenging, but I want to help stop the war and get that damn hole closed.” 

He puffed his chest and crossed his arms as well. “Worthy goals. Ones I’m happy to support. As for the rest... Well, if I say the wrong thing, will you take my head?” 

Mithra scoffed with an amused smirk. “I honestly enjoy being teased and I admire people that aren’t afraid to tell me how it is, so not likely.” 

He chuckled. “Good to know. But you’re a terror in battle. That’s all you really know, isn’t it?” 

“I mean-” She sagged a little. “Yeah.” 

Blackwall shrugged. “It’s suited you thus far. For me, I’ll be satisfied so long as we get our hands on the bastards that killed the Divine. They owe us some answers.” 

Mithra’s nose wrinkled with a grin. “Those same bastards got me stuck in this bullshit, so I’ll happily help put a few holes in them.” She turned to go. “Anyway, I have some thinking to do. Nice talking with you, Warden.”