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joyful-enchantress · 9 months

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Jól Never Be Alone | Loki x Fem!Reader

banner created by the amazing @springdandelixn

A/N: Hello! Enjoy this festive oneshot that I wrote as a gift for @smolvenger for this Secret Santa event facilitated by @fictive-sl0th. I took inspiration from a request submitted by @smolvenger and also from the Old Norse jól (pronounced yule), a midwinter festival which celebrated the passing of the longest days of winter, and fertility in the coming year. Happy Holidays!

Genre/Warnings: Arranged marriage, mild angst in the beginning (with a happy ending, I promise!), hurt/comfort, fluff, thirst, pining, smutty thoughts, language

Word Count: 3k

Three damn days.

That’s it. That’s all the time you had to pull yourself together.

To clean up the mess that you’d become these past weeks and be what the people of Asgard expected you to be. Needed you to be.

The shining star of the upcoming jól feast. You were to be the gem of the midwinter celebration as their newest princess.

That is, after all, what you were. You were married into the Asgardian royal family just over a month ago, joined in holy matrimony with Odin’s youngest son. The dark prince. Loki. A man — no, a god — that, for centuries now, had maidens everywhere falling over themselves just for the chance to spend a night warming his bed. How lucky you were to be his wife, right?

Though it wasn’t exactly a love match. Your marriage had been arranged by those that claimed more of a say in your lives than either of you did. Loki’s father and your own had devised a scheme — years in the making — in which you’d become Loki’s wife to strengthen the alliance between Asgard and your home realm, Vanaheim.

Yes, unfortunately, your love story felt less like a romance and more like a political drama.

It certainly didn't help that Loki has been cold and distant since the betrothal. He was always keeping to his own side of your shared living quarters, the physical walls between you serving as a constant reminder of the figurative one that loomed —towering and unsurmountable — between you. Short, clipped greetings are all that fell from his lips to welcome or acknowledge you when your paths did cross. Roommates with fancy titles... that's all you were. The dark, handsome prince, your husband, was never disrespectful — far from it, actually — but he never showed any true interest in you beyond what has been required during public appearances.

You couldn't blame him, not really. This couldn't possibly be what he had hoped for, when he would daydream about his own future. Trapped in a loveless marriage with you, likely feeling like little more than a pawn in his father's political chess games. No, it was no wonder why he kept his distance as much as the nature of your entanglement allowed.

There was a time, not so long ago, when you had allowed yourself to dream of a future where you sat beside Loki, as his wife. But not this way. Not like this.

Since childhood, you'd had a crush on the younger prince. Once you were old enough to accompany your father on his delegations to Asgard, where he'd speak on behalf of the Vanir at the council meetings, he was sure to bring you along. In hindsight, you realized, he only brought you with him so that you could become acquainted with Asgard before he secured your place there, within the royal court. But oh, how you looked forward to those trips! And a certain mischievous god was to blame...

Loki caught your eye the very first time you met him. How could he not? With those sharp cheekbones and chiseled jaw that you swore were sharp enough to slice through your dignity. The silky curtains of raven curls that framed his stupidly handsome face, always looking absolutely perfect, no matter how unkempt and mussed they were. Then there were his eyes, glistening like two polished emeralds against the alabaster planes of his face. You had frequently wondered what it might be like to lock eyes with him during the throes of a passionate night of lovemaking... meeting his gaze as you're writhing in the sheets underneath his lean, sculpted body, appreciating the length of him — of his neck, his limbs, his cock as he buries himself inside you.

Perhaps it was foolish, but you spent those years pining for him from afar, dreaming of what could possibly be someday. Sure, you spent time with him during your visits, enjoying strolls together through the gardens or his personal library, sharing details of your lives and bonding over your joint love of books. He definitely wasn't a stranger to you. In fact, you’d say you knew him well. But you never made your romantic feelings for him known; you never hinted at the desire that scorched through your veins like an untamed fire every time he was near.

You'd tell him someday, you'd tell yourself. You would tell Loki your feelings and with any luck he'd be yours... and it was that thought, that hope, that fueled your daydreams and pushed you through until your next visit to Asgard.

But before you ever got the chance to share the true nature of your feelings with Loki, you were both called into the throne room where your fathers informed you of the arrangements that had been made. You were to be married. In three fortnights.

And your dreams of a fairytale romance with the handsome prince were thwarted in an instant. You wanted him, but not like this. You wanted something real... you wanted Loki to want you.

Now you were homesick and, during a time when you should be feeling surrounded by love and holiday cheer, you had never felt more alone.

Jól was in three days. And the midwinter festival was supposed to be magnificent — a giant feast honoring the gods Odin and Freyr and celebrating a hope for peace, sunshine, and fertility in the coming year. Your place of honor at the celebrations was especially anticipated, not only because you were Asgard's newest princess, but because you were from Vanaheim — you were Vanir, same as Freyr. And, you were one of his descendants; his granddaughter, in fact. Yes — Loki was Odin’s son and you were Freyr’s granddaughter. Your union was a jóltide dream. The people of Asgard were abuzz with excitement, chattering about how special this year’s festivities would be… thanks to you.

You and Loki had been seen in public before, of course. You had endured your wedding and the celebrations that followed and managed fairly well. But that was a formal affair; beyond a few pecks on the lips throughout the day's festivities, you could go through the motions with little more than the occasional formal dance required, as far as physical contact.

The expectations at the jól festival were entirely different. It was to be a wild and sensual affair, with you and Loki performing a dance as the centerpiece of the fertility celebrations. This dance... the sensuality was not something that could easily be fabricated. You couldn't just go through the motions. The two of you would be chest to chest, eyes locked in a passionate stare, hands roaming and exploring each other's bodies. Your performance was meant to inspire not only yourselves, but all in attendance to go forth from the feast and be fruitful.

The thought twisted your stomach in knots and made your heart ache. How were you supposed to make it convincing? And if you did give in to the burning desire you had for Loki to put on the show that the people of Asgard were expecting, how were you supposed to protect your heart? Knowing that it wasn't the same for Loki; it wasn't real for him, too...

You had been training for this dance with an instructor for two weeks now, learning the basic steps. Having grown up in the royal court here, Loki was already familiar with the dance, so he didn't require the same training. But now it was time for rehearsals to begin. With only three days until the festival, you had to practice the dance with your actual performance partner... with Loki. You had to get a feel for each other during the dance; see where it felt natural to add in those caresses of your nose on his cheek, his fans of hot breath on your neck, the wandering touches on each other's bodies that linger just a whisper too long...

And your first rehearsal was in two hours.

You needed to get some air.

As you step outside, the frigid air engulfs you and steals your breath away. It’s a welcome feeling — a cleansing feeling. And it’s exactly what you need to clear your head and collect yourself before this dreaded rehearsal. You make a beeline for the palace gardens without much of a thought, your usual walking route essentially muscle memory at this point.

Your footsteps were nearly silent on the fresh-fallen snow that blanketed the path beneath your feet as you strolled throughout the garden, admiring the pops of color provided by the hardy winter flowers and berries that were currently growing there. As you approached the crocuses, you stopped to appreciate their bright purple blooms and the way the snow clung to the delicate petals.

Despite the harshness of the current environment, the flowers were thriving, refusing to let the cold and the ice dampen their beauty and light. A single tear rolled down your cheek as you resolved to do the same. You wouldn’t let your situation dampen your own light any longer.

“Darling…?” A familiar voice sounded from just behind you, seemingly out of nowhere. The snow must have muffled the sound of Loki’s approach.

What was he doing here?

“Oh, hello, Loki! You startled me; I didn’t expect to run into you out here.”

You quickly made to wipe the tear from your cheek as you turned to face him, but you weren’t quite fast enough; nothing got past Loki’s sharp gaze.

“So sorry to alarm you, I just came to the garden for some calm and quiet. The bustling in the palace as everyone prepares for the festival can get overwhelming.” He paused for just a moment, his brow creasing ever so slightly as if considering whether to continue before asking, “Is there anything troubling you, Y/N?”

Yes. So many things, you have no idea.

“I’m alright, Loki. I… I think the frigid air is just making my eyes water.” You managed a weak smile as you lied to your husband.

His eyes softened at your words; they beheld more warmth than you’d seen from him since before your forced betrothal.

“You know, Y/N… I know this hasn’t been easy. On either of us. But it doesn’t have to be this way between us forever. You don’t have to hide your feelings from me just because you don’t… just because we’re not…”

He struggled to find the right words to finish the sentence, but the implication was a shard of ice to your heart.

“What I’m trying to say is that you can talk to me. Ours may not be a marriage of love, but it still is a partnership. I can tell that something is wrong, that something has been wrong since our fathers broke the news of our arrangement to us. It was like, at that very moment, the light inside you was snuffed out. The woman that walked out of the throne room that day was not the same woman that entered. You’ve been a shell of yourself ever since you learned that you’d been sentenced to spend your life with me. And I’ve tried to give you space… to give you time. I didn’t want to pressure you, or suffocate you, so I’ve kept my distance. Waiting for you to be ready to speak to me again; perhaps even to spend time together again, enjoying our shared interests. But it has been more than 10 weeks now and I don’t think I can wait any longer, darling. Talk to me, please. I… I miss what we were before that day in the throne room.”

You blinked at him, flabbergasted. At a loss for words.

Set aside the sheer wonder of the sight before you: the tall frame, hung with lean muscles that strained against the fabric of the emerald tunic he was wearing. A note of gratitude crossed your mind that his Jotun ancestry allowed him to forgo any bulky outerwear to protect him from the elements, so you could enjoy this view, unobstructed. Even the way the snow clung to his dark, luscious locks and reflected the garden lights like a glittering crown had him looking every bit the winter king.

This man — this god — missed you. He mistook your heartbreak for… disgust.

As if you could ever find any part of him disgusting.

“Loki, I…” Your eyes darted frantically, looking everywhere but at him. Searching the winter blooms, the snow-covered tree branches, the festive garden decorations for a sign… for a whisper of encouragement. A murmur of reassurance. Was this it? Was this your moment?

When you finally met his gaze again, you saw nothing there but patience. Kindness. But also… longing?

“I love you.” You blurted it out, pushing the words from your lips before you could change your mind.

Your heart was pounding loudly in your ears; you actually said it. Nervousness enveloped your body like fresh steam, causing you to sweat despite the cold temperature.

“You…what?”

To say he was taken aback would be an understatement. It was clearly the last thing he expected you to say.

“I love you, Loki. I have for a while now.”

“Then why —?”

“Because I was heartbroken. Shattered. You’re right, Loki, the light inside me was snuffed out that day. Extinguished in an instant. But not because I was appalled or disgusted at the thought of spending forever with you. On the contrary, I had been dreaming of that very notion for years…”

You saw his eyes widen and his breath hitch before you continued.

“The light went out because I lost the hope that carried me forward; I never got to tell you how I truly felt about you — how much I cared about you…how much I wanted you.”

His eyes darkened almost imperceptibly at hearing you confess your desire for him.

You swallowed your own budding lust and pushed forward. “And so the delicate and, perhaps, foolish hope that we might have something real someday crumbled. Then, when I saw how much you withdrew from me, I… I was sure you had no interest in me. And that broke my heart even further, Loki, to know that you didn’t feel the same way about me and yet, we were trapped together in this marriage. I’ve never felt more alone than I have these past 10 weeks.”

“Darling…” he sighed as he closed the distance between you, reaching out his fingertips to softly caress the side of your face before brushing them under your chin and tilting your head back, forcing you to meet his gaze.

The small gesture stole your breath away. It was the first physical contact you had with Loki since the wedding, and certainly more intimate than any touches you had ever shared. This wasn’t a public appearance; there was no audience. There was only him. And you. And the hammering of your heart.

“It appears that we have both been foolish.” A smile slowly crept across his lips as he muttered, “a pair of hopeless, lovesick fools.”

By now the smile had wholly taken root and a full grin had bloomed on his face, casting a light there that you hadn’t seen in months.

Oh, how you missed that smile.

“Loki…” you gasped. “Are — are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“I love you too, wife.”

You couldn’t think straight. You could barely breathe. You had to be dreaming.

Loki could tell that words were beyond you, so he just continued.

“I’ve adored you for years, Y/N. Admired you in secret like an adolescent with an unattainable crush. Because that’s what you were to me: unattainable.”

“Loki, you’re a prince, a literal god… you’ve had a horde of maidens throwing themselves at you for as long as I’ve known you. If one of us was unattainable, it was you.”

“They were only ever interested in my body, in my array of talents between the sheets.”

A warm flood of arousal washed over you, hearing him talk so casually about his own sexual prowess.

“But you, darling… you saw me. You showed interest in my mind, my ideas, my company. You asked me thoughtful questions and you actually listened when I would answer them. I was so convinced that I didn’t deserve someone like that. Someone like you. And so I kept my feelings hidden.”

“Well…” you began with a shy smirk, “I am interested in your body and your carnal talents too, you know.”

“And I don’t know if there’s anything that could delight me more than learning that about you tonight,” he said with a mischievous smile and lust-darkened eyes that lingered on your lips before darting back to your own hooded gaze.

“Kiss me, Loki, please…” you breathed.

Without hesitation, he leaned down toward you, brushing his lips against your own. Featherlight at first, but soon growing more assured and confident, claiming your lips as his. And you were more than willing to let him stake his claim.

When he finally broke the kiss, you opened your eyes to see him staring down at you reverently.

“I love you, my darling wife. And as long as my heart is beating, I promise you’ll never be alone; you’ll never feel alone again. Perhaps things in our relationship have occurred… somewhat out of the preferred order, but by some generous twist of the fates, we’ve been thrust into each other’s arms and allowed to spend the rest of our lives with our one true love.”

Your heart swelled as you stared up at him. You felt that light within you reignite, shining brighter than it ever had.

“I love you too, husband. With my whole heart.”

He bent down and claimed your mouth once again, his tongue sliding against your lips, which you happily parted to allow him entry. All of the love and desire that you’d both been harboring all these years was finally unleashed and it was conveyed in the intensity of your kiss, and in the way his hands now began to explore your body. At least, as best as they could, over the coat you were wearing.

Suddenly, you found yourself looking forward to rehearsal.

And to the jól festival.

And to the rest of your life with Loki.

Below is the request I received from @smolvenger - I hope I did it justice, my lovely! Happiest Holidays! 🎄

Secret Santa 2023 Taglist 🏷️ @mochie85 @muddyorbs @holdmytesseract @sailorholly @lady-rose-moon @superficialdomina @cultofcarter @coldnique @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @smolvenger @loz-3 @catsladen @lokisgoodgirl @acidcasualties @divine-knight-hand @quirkiest-turtle @glitchquake @nyxlaufeyson @fandxmslxt69 @holymultiplefandomsbatman

#loki #loki imagine #loki fanfction #loki x reader fluff #loki fluff #loki x reader #loki x yn #loki x you #loki christmas fic #christmas #yule #yuletide #winter solstice #secret santa fic #secret santa 2023 #writer events #writers supporting writers

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threepandas · 3 months

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Bad End, Hidden Heir: Part 2

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A pounding headache and cave air, that's what I woke up too. The air was being choked, though, by familiar scents. All trying desperately to make the cold, wet, and softly echoing quiet, hospitable. It was nauseating in my current state. Weak and... drugged? Had I been drugged? I certainly hadn't been drunk.

So why did my head hurt so much?

Why did every motion, make my stomach want to rebel?

My limbs felt so WEAK. Heavy and useless. Barely budging when I try to lift them. To rub my head? Adjust the blanket? Sit up? I can't tell. Thinking... thinking is so hard past... the pounding in my head. The fog. I struggle to concentrate. God, that SMELL.

Like a perfume store combined with... with... ugh. Everything!

I could pick out individual scents I knew I liked, on their own, added to the nauseating chaos. My favorite potpourri was there. But so was the one I like for winter? Fall? That one I liked as a kid until I found Mrs. Tianna's blend...

And perfumes! Colognes! The clean products and scents I preferred the maids used. God it... it blended together like a trash heap. As though someone drove a carriage through a perfume shop at speed. Cloying and musk and spice and fruity and-!

I sucked air through my teeth, trying not to smell it, hoping to god I wouldn't TASTE it.

Finally I managed to pry my eyes open. Either hunger or thirst giving my the strength to push past the nauseating pain. I NEEDED to move. Find out what was happening. Survive.

My gaze... met the most elaborate embroidery I had ever seen. Tapestries had less art. Almost to the point of gaudiness. Possibly past it. It was...

It was everything I had ever said I liked.

Too anyone.

Puppies and flowers, history and art, books scenes and more. It kept GOING! Hideous and magnificent. Chaos. Unhinged. Flowing down from above me, along the rest of the curtains, for the canopy bed upon which I rest. So I would be surrounded by it all. Even the blanket... it was a sea of my favorite flowers, made eternal through string.

This wasn't something people just DID. Could just FIND. I could feel my panic under the muting pain and exhaustion. This was the work of YEARS. Obsessive, continuous, YEARS. Some of these threads cost more then certain house hold make in WEEKS! And for what? A secret canopy bed?!

I struggled, body barely able to obey me but trying desperately to assist. The blankets were heavy. The curtain around the bed equally so, thanks to all the embroidery. I.. I manage to roll. Squirm. Wriggle my way, undignified, to the edge. Flop over it and out from under the blanket. Too freedom.

The air is cold.

The scents WORSE out here. Now, I can see why.

It is a museum to all that I am. Every like carefully gathered in one place, every preference. Stacked and shoved together, with no regard for if they fit. Hoarded like a collection.

I can not even tell... if I am sitting, flopped down, on my favorite winter bedside carpet or just an exact copy. My entire life is shoved together and suddenly... suddenly I do not like any of these things at all. They feel dirty. Dangerous. Like they have betrayed me. I want to cry.

But I am nauseous. Hurting. Tired and thirsty. So very hungry dispite it all. I just... I just need to know what's going ON! This isn't... this isn't how the Game goes! Not for Protag-chan. Not for me! I know I changed my "character's" behavior... but...

I... I don't understand...

Try not to cry. It's... it's really hard.

I was right. I'm pretty sure this is the Caves of Spring in the northwest of the Duchy. The offical Heir has an estate near them. The stone looks like the cliffs I'd seen in passing.

Crawling is hard. My legs keep getting tangled in my fucking nightgown. My... my f.. favorite.. nightgown! I'm not gonna cry. Damn it. I'm NOT GONNA CRY. How dare he? How DARE he ruin even that? What did he DO to me!? When I was... was...

No, don't think about it!

Move.

A decanter. Needlessly pretty. I probably loved it as a girl, fresh into this world. Everything was so FANCY and I wasn't used to having money yet. Hadn't developed any real class or taste. It looks so fucking gaudy to me now. But God, it has water. Please... PLEASE let that be water!

I drag myself up on badly shaking limbs. Nothing wants to hold. Wrists buckling, knees giving, legs shaking like a new born lamb. My arms are so weak. But thirst... oh thirst is a powerful motivator.

I force myself to move.

The water is not enough. It is everything. Cold and perfect, I force myself to go slow. To not spill a single drop, as I collapse against the dresser it was placed upon. Letting my eyes explore my cage in the way my poor abused body can not.

There are thick bars buried deep into the bedrock, separating the "room" I'm in from the hall that leads away from it. And it IS a "room". Made in cruel mockery to resemble the luxury of the dukes estate. Perhaps even more aggressively decadent in certain aspects, though that isn't a good thing. It makes it border on a storage room, for how crowded with luxury it has become.

It is the reflection of an unwell mind.

And staring up at the portraits of myself I KNOW I never sat for? The countless sketches pinned up beyond the bars? I am in trouble. I... I should have run. Not sent Creep away. I should have been the one to run. Before it was too late.

I think... I think it might be too late.

Footsteps.

I want to escape. But where can I run? I am caged. I feel close and far away. My head hurts. My body hurts. Everything stinks and I am cold. Why? Why did you do this? The foot steps are calm and commanding. Even. They do not break stride.

I do not bother to watch my hunter approach me. The monster I can not escape.

I close my eyes to spare myself the pounding in my head. Drink more water.

He makes a softly dismayed sound, as though he was not the one to drug me, to leave me here. The door to my cage opens. Closes. Ah... such a heavy lock. Should I be flattered?

Crisp steps, the rustle of fabric.

"My lady, the floor is so dirty! You shouldn't be out of bed yet. I was just about to make you tea."

The AUDACITY.

Tea? TEA! Ha ha! After DRUGGING my tea? He actually expects me to accept a cup from him again?! He truely IS insane, isn't he?

I am scooped up without my consent, unable to so much a truely struggle. Placed gently on a plush chair, a tea table moved in front of me. A familiar cup. My favorite blend. Pretty little snacks laid out deftly on lovely little plates. I grit my teeth. Slowly tip my head up to glare.

He pauses when our eye meet... then shudders, some terrible look of pleasure dancing across his face.

"That's right... look at me~" he whispers, leaning entirely too close. "I'm all that you have now. So you'll HAVE too now! No more others. No more distractions. No more sending me away! People trying to get between us. Trying to take you away. I'm all that you need, My Lady. All you'll EVER need."

"Just look at ME, your loyal dog. And I'll take such good care of you. I promise~♡"

#threepandas #yandere #yandere otome #yancore #yanblr #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere otome isekai #bad end hidden heir au #i always wanted to explore this dynamic #i have the power therefor you HAVE to let me serve you #isekai #adopted reader #isekai reader #yandere duke #tw sex assault #nothing happened #but Reader-chan is freaked out by being changed while unconscious #tw drugging

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artofshinga · 5 months

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A bit ago I did a whole-ass set of warlocks based on D&D 5e subclasses - mostly for fun and also because my RP group was planning a warlock game. I didn't HAVE to draw one of each but doing so DID help me decide which one I wanted to play (this is, to note, why the characters are all pretty fem-coded - because that's my favorite to RP) Anyway, after I drew them all, folks asked if I'd do other classes too. And I was like, maybe? But, sorcerer did sound fun to do this with so over the last few months I've been working on them kinda on the side while I put most my energy in, like, the commissions I need to finish lol. But here, a bunch of theoretical sorcerers I'd personally play in a game:

Let's start us off with Iris, a half-elf who'd be living a pretty normal life in a normal job (I was thinking she was probably a waitress or somethin) until she finds something weird - a piece of a meteor or something, you know how it goes. Suddenly she has powers, and that's where her adventure would begin More sorcerers under the cut!

Tally I struggled with because, as it turns out, little mechanical fairy wings are complicated to draw. BUT also fun - I liked the idea of a fairy who's lost her wings and while she's trapped in the material plane she befriends a clockmaker who builds her little wings for her and eventually her magic ends up kind of syncing up with the mechanical way he teaches her about the world

Elysia was actually the last one I drew, since I have a DIFFERENT Divine Soul sorcerer I've already designed and want to play as a priority, but then I happened to see something about Greek gods while watching TV one day and thought, oh hey, that'd be a fun way to play with a divinity-themed sorcerer - maybe a musician that caught the affections of a god who blessed her with magic

Cherish is a cheerful tiefling working at an inn with her former-adventurer mother. We can guess what sort of things her mother got up to in her adventure since she ended up raising a child with some mysteriously draconic features

NGL Aine was just a way for me to play with some of the inspirations I used to cling to as a kid. Sailor Moon and other various bits of anime and JRPGs and such that I loved in my youth and used a LOT to inspire art. I wanted to remember that - and a catgirl wearing too many belts sounded perfect for that

Leila is probably my weirdest - she's SPECIFIC, like if there's a campaign set in the Shadowfell or something, I imagined a maid working in a mansion that gets magicked away to this realm and her gaining that shadow power when it happens

One of my first 5e characters was a storm sorcerer - more focused on rain and lightning and thunder. I used the same hair color and close to the same skin color to make this new storm sorcerer as a bit of a nod to that character, and wanted this one more focused on winter storms (including making her a winter eladrin elf)

and last but certainly not least, Gemma the halfling cursed with wild magic. I think she started off her adventuring life with a thieves' group before they found the wrong magic artifact. You know how it goes

#sorcerer #divine soul sorcerer #storm sorcerer #wild magic sorcerer #aberrant mind sorcerer #clockwork soul sorcerer #draconic bloodline #lunar sorcerer #shadow magic #tiefling #half elf #halfling #eladrin #tabaxi #fairy

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helloalycia · 9 months

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𝐍𝐎 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐁𝐘𝐄𝐒 [𝐎𝐍𝐄] — 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐍

summary: when Katniss gets sick and doesn't show any signs of getting better, you fear the worst and have to do whatever you can to make sure she does.

warning/s: mentions of dying + usual warnings that come with writing for the hunger games.

author's note: thanks to everyone who voted on my first lil poll yesterday haha, here’s the katniss one that won! there’s 2 parts and it was written after i just reread all the hunger games books and became hyperfixated on katniss again lmao

i’ll post the jackie taylor yellowjackets one after this for anyone who voted that too :)

two / masterlist / wattpad

I tightened the woolly scarf around my neck, hoping it would do something to keep the cold, bitter air out despite its flimsiness. Winter in District 12 could be unforgiving, but by the look of things from the front window, it hadn't snowed anymore last night.

"I'm leaving, mum!" I called from the front door, grabbing my school bag.

"Have a nice day, hon!" she called back from the kitchen.

When I left my house, the first thing I stepped foot in was grey slush, and I wasn't sure if that was worse than a blizzard at this point. Nonetheless, I sucked it up and headed over to my best friend Katniss' house, not far from my own in the poor, ragged part of the district, the Seam.

We always met at her place before school since it was on the way and we could walk in together, but when I arrived, her little sister, Primrose, answered and looked worried.

"Hey, darling, what's up?" I asked, accepting the hug she gave me as I stepped inside.

"It's Katniss," she muttered. "She won't get out of bed."

Trying not to show my concern, I said, "I'll go check on her. You finish getting ready so we're not late, yeah?"

She nodded and I watched her go into the kitchen to finish her breakfast with her mum, the older woman offering a small smile when she saw me. I returned it before letting myself into the other room of their house, the bedroom that all three of them shared. Inside, Katniss was still in her bed, under the covers and blocking out the light. Whether she was awake, I wasn't sure, but this was certainly unlike her.

"Katniss?" I called, shaking her body slightly. "We're gonna be late, you've gotta get up."

She groaned slightly, not appreciating my interruption, and then seemed to realise what was happening as she rolled over, eyes squinted with confusion.

"Huh? What are you doing?" she mumbled, rubbing her face, and her voice was raspier than usual.

"It's time for school," I said knowingly, before frowning when I saw her cover her eyes with her hand. "Why are you still in bed? Prim has been trying to wake you."

"What...? I don't..." She stopped, before attempting to sit upright, but she squeezed her eyes shut and steadied herself on the bed.

"Hey," I said, much more concerned now, taking a seat on the edge of her bed. "You're not okay. Is it your head?"

She clutched her forehead, breathing out slowly. "I don't know. It hurts, it– god, it's bright in here."

I frowned, taking in her pained expression and connecting all the dots. "You're sick. You should stay home today. Get better."

As if I'd accused her of murder, Katniss shook her head and pulled the duvet off her with determination. "I'm not. I'm fine, I–" But just on cue, a throaty cough rattled her.

"I can stay home if you want," I offered, already pulling the duvet back on her. "Help you."

The last thing I wanted was to leave her alone whilst she was ill. Technically her mother would be here, but she wasn't the most attentive since she'd lost her husband, so it was essentially like leaving Katniss alone.

"No, you don't need to," Katniss gave in with a sigh.

"I don't mind," I offered, resting a hand on hers. "I can–"

"It's one day," she assured me, before clearing her throat. "I'll be okay. Go. Please. Or you'll be late."

I sighed disapprovingly before nodding, knowing one day of rest would hopefully prove to be useful. I leaned forward to hug her, about to wish her well, but she shoved me back quickly.

"Don't or you'll get sick," she argued tiredly, making me rub my chest where she shoved me.

"Ow," I said with annoyance, before rolling my eyes and standing up. "Very well. Lay down at least."

Thankfully, she obeyed which was how I knew she must've really felt rundown. Pulling the duvet to her shoulders, I tucked her in before wishing her well and leaving the room. After letting her mum know what was wrong and to keep an eye on her, Prim and I left the house together.

"She's okay, right?" the twelve-year-old asked me as we trudged through the muddy snow.

"Oh yeah, of course," I reassured her with a smile. "It's nothing. Just that time of year."

This seemed to work, as Prim sighed with relief before smiling too. But deep down, a small part of me was a little worried. Firstly, Katniss never got sick, ever. And secondly, whereas a cold might not take some people out, it could be the difference between life and death in a place where it was freezing and had no electricity. I only hoped she'd be able to sleep it off and recover soon.

All day I was thinking of Katniss, unable to focus much at school. When the final bell rang and we were finally let out, I was relieved, only wanting to check on her and hopefully see some improvement. Our friend, Gale, accompanied Prim and I back home, since he lived in the Seam also, and we all went to the Everdeens to see if Katniss was okay.

When we reached their house, we saw Mrs Everdeen helping someone out as part of her job as a healer, so decided not to interrupt and instead headed straight for Katniss. When we walked in, Prim ran to her bedside whilst Gale and I took in the scene. Katniss was still under her covers, as if she'd not moved all day.

"Hey, Catnip," Gale said, hoping to lighten the mood and stir her awake, if she was even asleep.

An annoyed moan was the only response we got, so I settled by her bedside and pulled the duvet down carefully, revealing her face. Her eyes were closed, scrunched with discomfort, but she was sweating. I felt her forehead, surprised at how hot she was, and my worry was increasing.

"How is she?" Prim asked from behind me.

I cleared my throat, pulling my hand back. "Er, warm. But it could be nothing."

Clearly I wasn't the best liar, since she pushed me out the way and felt her sister's forehead before frowning immediately.

"That's not nothing," she exclaimed, before going for the door. "I'm getting mum."

I sighed, but knew it was for the best. When her and her mum returned, the four of us attempted to coax Katniss awake properly. She was reluctant, but finally opened her eyes when I closed the curtains, blocking out the light that was bothering her.

"You're burning, Katniss," I told her gently, taking her hand. Her mum rested a cold cloth on her forehead, moving her hair from her face, and I looked back to her tired eyes. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm just tired," she said dismissively, yawning. "A little cold."

I exchanged nervous glances with Gale, who was as concerned for her as I was.

"You need to listen to your mum and sister," I told her. "They're gonna help you feel better, okay?"

"I'm fine, I just need to rest," she tried to assure me, but she wasn't very convincing.

"Katniss, please," I said quietly, and she looked to me with dark eyes, softening. "Just listen to them."

She nodded, giving in, and I offered her a small smile before looking to her mum for the next step.

"You should both go home," she said to Gale and I. "You can visit tomorrow."

I nodded, not keen to leave Katniss' side but knowing the best care she could be in was her family's. Gale and I said our goodbyes before walking home.

It was supposed to get better after that, Katniss was supposed to get better. But none of it did. She was still bedridden when I visited her after school the next day, though a little more awake than yesterday and itching to get up and leave.

"My legs work fine," she told me with frustration. "Why can't I just get up and push on?"

"Because you're weak, idiot," I told her, giving her a disapproving look. "You've still got a fever, too."

She frowned petulantly, staring off at the wall instead of me. I sighed, resting a hand on hers, and thankfully she didn't pull away.

"Your mum is taking good care of you," I reminded her. "You're gonna be okay, but you need to rest."

"You shouldn't visit me meanwhile," she said after a moment, finally looking at me. "What if I'm contagious?"

I tried not to smile, the thought of not visiting her sounding insane. "I'll live, Katniss."

She exhaled weakly, not bothering to argue. I swallowed hard, taking in her expression. Circles were becoming deeper under her eyes, showing her struggle to sleep properly, and she was still glistening in a thin layer of sweat. Even now, her hand was hot beneath mine, and it terrified me. But I tried not to think of the worst, instead manifesting positive thoughts the best I could.

Enough positivity to make Katniss puke, that was the goal.

Unfortunately, it only got worse from there on out. It was getting colder the deeper we got into winter, which wasn't helping, and Katniss was missing more and more days off school. And then we finally finished school for the year, and Katniss was still unwell.

Unlike that second visit, she wasn't fighting her weakness anymore, unable to play it tough when her migraines were ruining her. Her fever would break, then return, then break again. I didn't understand what was wrong and I'd never been so scared in my life. Gale and her family felt the same, but her mum was surprisingly consistent with her care, doing everything she could to make her daughter better.

But we all knew what nobody would admit – Katniss needed real medicine, none of this herbal stuff.

One day, I was visiting Katniss, going over more and more now that school was done, but she wasn't always awake when I visited. Thankfully she was today, and when I walked in, her head turned to the door to see who it was. When she saw it was me, she shook her head, unimpressed.

"You shouldn't be here," she said as she always did, and I rolled my eyes playfully.

Ignoring her, I took a seat at the edge of her bed, aware of her eyes following my every move.

"Prim," she began, but I answered before she needed to finish.

"She's at Gale's," I reassured her, making her sigh with relief.

Having Prim seeing her like this always worried her, but I was making sure that the younger Everdeen wasn't always around. Of course, she was stubborn like her sister and sometimes insisted. Today though, she was content spending the day with Gale's siblings.

I looked down at Katniss, noticing how much weight she'd lost these past few weeks. She was already skinny, a consequence of living in District 12, but this was sickly, haunting. I'd never seen her so rundown before and I was seriously terrified that if we didn't get her real medicine soon, she could die. Nobody had a cold or flu or whatever it was for this damn long. She was struggling to eat properly, to stand at all, and she looked like hell. I couldn't just watch her deteriorate like this. Not my best friend. Not the girl I cared way too much for.

"Stop it," she said, an accidental whisper. "Stop looking at me like that."

"I'm not doing anything," I defended, embarrassed I'd been caught.

She knew me too well though. "I'll be okay. In fact–" She paused, and then suddenly attempted to sit upright, but her arms were too weak to hold her up and she slipped right back down. The tears were quick to pool in her eyes, a matching scowl on her face, at her incompetence.

"It's okay," I said sympathetically, taking her hand in between mine.

She squeezed it tight, like a lifeline, but avoided my eyes. A tear slipped from hers, and I pretended not to see it for her sake.

"I need to hunt," she said with a hoarse voice, no doubt holding in her emotion.

"Gale has it under control," I said, only imagining all she'd been worrying herself with whilst stuck here. She was the sole provider for her family, and with her out of action, the responsibilities were piling up.

"He has his own family to worry about," she snapped, before catching herself, instantly feeling bad. Quieter, she said, "It's not enough."

She wasn't wrong, of course, but I would never let her know that. Gale barely found enough to feed his own family, especially during winter, and he was sparing what little he could to keep Prim and her mum afloat. I did the same with what scraps I got, but I was no hunter and couldn't offer extra game like he could.

"We're sorting it," I said confidently. "Your mum and Prim are okay, aren't they?"

She finally met my eyes, hers glassy and exhausted. "For how long?"

It was much harder to lie to her when she was looking right at me, so I cleared my throat and forced a small smile. "All the more reason to get better, right?"

She pursed her lips, looking away again. It was quiet as she laid there, me holding her hand and keeping her company. I knew how horrible it could be when you were sick and alone, so I made sure not leave her side, as her eyes began to flicker close, struggling to fight the tiredness. I moved closer, pushing the hair from her eyes and raking my hands through her roots, knowing she liked the feeling but would never admit it. I was proven right when she let out a deep breath, squeezing my hand in approval, and I smiled softly at how cute she could be when she didn't even know it.

Only when she was out of it did I feel my tears blur my vision, unable to pretend that I was okay. She wasn't looking any better, and I couldn't just watch her like this, unable to do a thing.

I leaned forward, kissing her forehead, and closed my eyes briefly, praying to whatever God was out there that she'd be okay.

Everyone had their special something, a skill they had perfected or a hobby they could get lost in. Mine? I hadn't discovered it yet. I suppose I was doing pretty well in school, so taking tests could count, though it was a shit skill to have, impractical. But hunting, that was Katniss' and Gale's thing. No, definitely not mine.

They'd taken me out once, letting me join them on their weekly escapade. Gale found it hilarious that I moved too loudly, scaring away the prey, or that I stepped in my own trap, getting my foot stuck in the rope. I let him enjoy himself at my expense, knowing it was inevitable. Katniss however, despite the small smile that would ghost her lips at something stupid I'd do, was adamant on helping me. She took it too seriously, showing me how to use her prized bow and how to sneak around better. I'd like to say it worked, that I learnt something, but it didn't. It was safe to say they never took me again.

So, when I found myself in the forbidden woods outside the District 12 fence, with Katniss' bow in hand, I felt like a foreigner. I wasn't familiar with these woods, especially not in winter when it was a completely different ballgame to what I'd 'practiced' in last summer. Katniss' bow was too big for me, and no matter how hard I tried to take her familiar hunting routes, my approach always scared away the prey.

I was out there for two hours, certain my fingers would fall off from the cold, but I refused to give up. I couldn't return empty handed. Gale hadn't been successful last week, and family responsibilities had kept him from hunting today like he usually did. So, I took it upon myself to do it, especially because Prim was so hungry, her little face shrinking the longer Katniss was bedridden. I couldn't let her down, any of them, so I pushed on.

But every arrow I let fly missed its target, and every squirrel I approached scampered off. The sun, hidden behind thick clouds, was setting and it was getting dark out, even though the afternoon was barely over. I had to go home, but I had nothing to show for it. I couldn't even pick any edible plants because everything was frozen. I was a failure.

I couldn't catch a thing; the one job I had, to keep Prim fed, was failing; Katniss was dying and I couldn't do a thing to change any of it.

Tears streamed down my face, hot against the cold of my cheeks, and I collapsed in the snow, unbothered by it melting into the cotton of my trousers. It didn't matter anymore.

She wasn't getting better. Every day I visited her, she looked worse for wear. If it wasn't her fevers, it was her migraines. And if it wasn't her migraines, it was her throat. I was losing her day by day and I felt powerless. I couldn't even shoot a fucking squirrel to help. Nothing was working.

I was going to lose her.

Admittedly, I wallowed in self-pity for a little longer, appreciating having somewhere private to let it all out. It was hard playing it positive and tough all the time, for Prim's and Katniss' sake, when the truth was I was scared shitless. Living in a world without my best friend, the girl I so deeply loved to the point that she'd laugh if she ever found out, was terrifying. I didn't even want to envision it.

It was dark by the time I returned to the Everdeens home. I would have much preferred to go straight home, but I couldn't not update them on my false promise.

"Y/N!" Prim exclaimed when she opened the door, before tugging me in instantly.

"Hey," I said, forcing a smile, and I was glad the redness from the cold disguised my red eyes from crying.

"You're freezing," she realised, before calling for her mum. "You were gone for ages! Come, sit in front of the fire."

I pulled back as she attempted to drag me to the fire, and then her mum appeared and noticed the same thing Prim did.

"Y/N, you need to warm up–"

"I will, at my house," I promised her. "I just came to tell you that I– that–" I paused, afraid of the shakiness of my voice. Swallowing thickly, I said, "I'm sorry. I couldn't– I'm not–"

Fuck, why was this so hard?

"I'm gonna figure it out," I changed my words, nodding confidently. "I'll get some food. I'm sorry. I–"

Prim suddenly hugged me, arms wrapping around my torso and squeezing so tightly that I could have snapped in half from how frozen I was. But I appreciated it nonetheless and returned the gesture, letting out a shaky breath.

"Don't do it again," her mum said gently, resting a hand on my cheek before hugging me too.

I blinked back my tears as I let myself relax in their comfort.

I couldn't just stand by and do nothing anymore, and there was only one thing that I knew I could do. None of us could ever afford the medicine Katniss needed from the doctor in town, unless we traded something valuable, like food.

If I used my tesserae, adding my name another time into the potential tributes for District 12, I would receive a year's supply of oil and grain. Participants could only apply once for themselves, and once for any of their family members if they were between the ages of 12 and 18. I'd used mine for this year, but I could still use it on behalf of my parents. They never wanted me to, but this was an emergency and they didn't need to know.

So, on behalf of them, I used my tesserae and traded that two years' supply of oil and grain with the doctor in exchange for the medicine that would make Katniss better. After describing all her symptoms, he explained how it was some complex form of a cold, rare but deadly. I was lucky I'd got to him in time.

Gale didn't approve of my plan when I told him, trying to talk me out of it. Just like Katniss, he cared about whether I used my tesserae without needing to. I could see it was killing him to watch me do it anyway, wanting to do it himself if he could, but he'd already used all his family's tesserae for the year. It was the first thing he did every time it was available, having no choice since he had a big family.

After I collected the medicine from the doctor, I was quick to return to Katniss' house, giving a rushed explanation to her mum about the medicine and what the doctor said about administering it and how it would save her life.

"Y/N, how did you get this?" she asked once I finished to catch my breath.

"It doesn't matter," I said to her. "But it'll help. We can give her the first dose now."

"Y/N–”

"Mrs Everdeen, please," I pleaded, and she must have seen the desperation in my expression because she nodded slowly and went to make Katniss some tea with the medicine in it. It was a syrup of some sort, so the mint tea should have made it a bit more palatable.

Eventually we both went to Katniss' room, where Prim was sat beside her, holding her hand and chatting quietly. When she spotted us both, she perked up and smiled a little.

"Hey, Prim," I said, returning her smile and joining her side. "How's the patient?"

"She's got a headache," Prim answered, and I looked to Katniss who had a wet towel pressed to her eyes, both cooling her down and also blocking out the light.

"Y/N?" Katniss whispered, though unmoving.

"Yours truly," I said playfully, needing to disguise the permanent concern that was in my voice. "We brought you some tea, Katniss."

She groaned quietly. "I don't want it."

Her mum glanced at me, unsure how to proceed, so I took the mug from her hand and placed it on the bedside table.

"It'll help," I promised her, before gently pulling her duvet down. "Can you sit up for me, please?"

She sighed but thankfully obeyed, allowing me to help her sit upright. She leaned against the bed frame and let me remove the towel from her eyes. I smiled when I saw her blue eyes, though they were fatigued as they had been since she'd gotten sick. Not for long, hopefully.

"Drink up," I encouraged, offering her the mug.

She silently accepted it, blowing on the tea before taking the first sip. Her face scrunched up with disgust. "What is that?"

"New herbal remedy," her mum answered before I could struggle to.

Katniss wasn't impressed, but managed to drink the whole thing, probably because she knew I'd let her go to sleep if she did. After laying back down, I pulled the duvet back over her and pushed her hair behind her ear, smiling reassuringly.

"You should feel better with that," I told her with certainty.

She didn't reply, eyes avoiding mine, something I'd noticed she'd been doing for a while now. It was like she knew she wasn't getting better and was scared to admit the truth, but this was different. This would finally work.

Prim and I stayed by her side until she fell asleep, and that was when I told her about the medicine. The pure joy and relief on her face was enough to let me know I'd made the right decision, and she hugged me so tightly that I almost lost my breath.

"I told you she'd be okay," I said with a small smile, accepting her hug. "And so will you."

"Thank you," she muttered into my shoulder.

I squeezed her gently before we stayed there, sat side by side. She didn't want to leave Katniss' side, and neither did I, but it was getting late and, at some point, Prim had dozed off on my shoulder. Only after I had tucked her into her mum's bed did Mrs Everdeen politely kick me out, forcing me to get some rest of my own at home. For once, I didn't argue it, my exhaustion catching up to me. Plus, I could sleep well knowing Katniss would already be doing a lot better tonight.

As soon as I woke up and remembered the medicine the next morning, I headed straight to the Everdeens place, hoping to see some sort of improvement with Katniss. So you can imagine my surprise when I walked into her room and saw her sat upright in bed, eating an actual breakfast on a tray.

"Katniss!" I said with disbelief, before rushing to hug her. "You're eating!"

She returned my hug and I pulled up a chair beside her bed, studying her curiously. She'd looked like she'd had a better sleep than she usually did, and she was actually holding up her own weight which was an achievement in itself. The medication was working!

The sight of her looking a lot healthier and actually improving from her poor condition brought tears to my eyes, but I willed them away. She'd hate to see me crying over her, but I genuinely couldn't believe it.

"I'm not stupid," she said with a raspy voice, eyes narrowed my way.

I furrowed my brows. "What?"

She frowned. "You think I don't know that you gave me actual medicine last night? There's no other explanation for why I'm feeling better. And I know it's not because of a damn herbal remedy. I was doomed, Y/N. So, what the hell did you do?"

"So you do feel better?"

"Y/N!"

I sighed as she raised her voice. "Okay, look, I'm sorry for lying to you, but you wouldn't have taken it if I'd told you."

"Damn right I wouldn't have!" she snapped, glaring at me. "We can't afford that! Which brings me to my next question. How the hell did you get it?"

I shook my head, looking down at her breakfast tray. "It's not your concern."

"Y/N, I swear to God I'll–"

"What?" I cut her off, meeting her hard stare with my own. "You'll what?"

Her eyes flickered between mine before softening. "Y/N. Please."

I could have given in so easily, just from a simple glance, but I refused to let her bait me. I ignored her instead, shaking my head and returning my gaze to her breakfast tray.

"You traded something," she guessed, back to her irritated self. When I didn't answer, she said, "What? What did you trade?"

Again, I said nothing, neither confirming nor denying, but she wasn't having it.

"Goddamn it, Y/N!" she shouted, but her voice was still weak so it was more of a broken yell. "You can't just sit there in silence whilst I–"

"Stop it!" I raised my voice too, glaring at her.

"What the hell were you thinking?!"

I frowned, eyes pooling with tears. "I was thinking that I couldn't just sit here and watch and not do anything! I was thinking that I was terrified that you would die! That you were getting worse and worse every day, and that I would lose you, Katniss!"

Her eyes were glassy as they met mine. "How many times?"

I scoffed, looking away. "Katniss, not now."

I expected her to yell again, but she said in a quiet voice, "Please. How many times is your name in there?"

I clenched my jaw, crossing my arms over my chest stubbornly. But when I glanced at her, she was watching me like a little girl who'd just lost her puppy, and I couldn't not respond.

"Not a lot," I tried to sugar coat it. "Only twelve times." At this, she released a sharp breath. "I traded two years of food with the doctor. It was enough to get the medicine."

She pushed the tray off her lap before pulling her knees to her chest, hiding her face between them. She was shaking her head and I knew she was crying, the sniffling giving it away. Feeling insanely bad, I sat on the bed beside her and pulled her in for a side hug the best I could.

"It's okay," I told her, rubbing her arm. "I chose to do it, Katniss. And I'd do it again, over and over, if it means you'll be okay."

She shook her head. "You shouldn't have," she said with a muffled voice, her head still tucked between her legs.

"You shouldn't have got sick," I tried to joke, but she only looked up at me with red eyes and quivering lips. I lost my smile, admitting, "I wasn't going to lose you. You don't get it."

I love you, I wanted to add, but I couldn't.

"Neither do you," she mumbled, before shoving me off her childishly.

I didn't get to question her because she pulled the tray back onto her lap and tried to finish off the remainder of stale bread in her plate. I returned to my seat next to her bed, watching as she sulked, ate and gave me the temporary silent treatment. I didn't care too much, as long as she was eating.

Once she finished, I took the tray and put it to the side momentarily, flashing her a supportive smile.

"You finished every last bit," I pointed out. "I'm proud of you."

She rolled her eyes, but that only made me smile more because it meant she had the effort to be annoyed at me, which was something she hadn't had for a while now.

"Did you have your morning dose of medicine?" I asked reluctantly, but needing to know.

She nodded, crossing her arms. "My mum gave it me earlier."

I relaxed. "Good."

Before I could say anything else, the door to the bedroom opened and Prim ran in, a bright smile on her face. Despite Katniss' annoyance with me, she couldn't resist returning her sister's smile, accepting her onto the bed and hugging her.

"You already look so much better," Prim was saying with amazement. "I was so scared."

"Well, there's no need to be," Katniss reassured her. "You didn't struggle too much without me, right?"

Prim shook her head. "Gale and Y/N have been helping. Y/N wouldn't leave. Mum had to kick her out a lot."

I facepalmed, feeling my cheeks heat up with embarrassment. It only deepened when Katniss glanced my way with an unreadable expression.

"Yeah, she has a tendency to not listen," she said, making me roll my eyes.

"She saved you," Prim said to her.

Katniss licked her lips. "I know."

I felt awkward, definitely not wanting the credit, I just wanted her to be okay. But then Prim changed the subject, catching Katniss up on all she'd missed, so I was able to sit back and witness it all, chiming in whenever Prim needed.

For once, Katniss was able to listen and actually hold a conversation. It was heartwarming to see, and if this was what she was like after one dose, I couldn't wait until she'd had the full thing.

#katniss everdeen #katniss everdeen x reader #katniss everdeen imagine #the hunger games imagine #the hunger games #jennifer lawrence #katniss everdeen x you

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hotdaemondtargaryen · 1 month

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EWAN MITCHELL INTERVIEWED BY NME MAGAZINE.

WHERE DID YOU WATCH THE 'HOUSE OF THE DRAGON' SEASON TWO FINALE?

“I watched it yesterday on my TV.”

“Just with a few friends.”

IN THE FINALE, THE WAR THAT'S BEEN BREWING DIDN'T HAPPEN – WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT THE FACT THAT FANS WILL HAVE TO WAIT ANOTHER TWO YEARS FOR THE CONFLICT?

“The wait will be worth it!”

SOME FANS HAVE COMPLAINED IT WAS A SLOW SEASON – WHAT DID YOU THINK?

“I think there’s moments for everyone.”

“What I love about Aemond… it’s like he can’t sit still.”

“He has to be moving.”

“And he possesses such a kind of catalytic energy that whenever he’s on screen, you know something’s gonna happen.”

“So it’s nice.”

“And the Council Table, there’s so much conflict between these relationships that we all share around this table that I loved to dive into.”

AEMOND'S BECOME A FAN FAVOURITE...

“Yeah.”

“I’m not on social media, but the fan mail that I received is so well articulated, and it’s often badass to listen to the reaction.”

WHAT DID YOU THINK OF DAEMON'S PROPHETIC THRONES-LIKE VISION IN THE FINALE?

“I haven’t seen Game Of Thrones.”

“But I understood that the moments with the White Walkers and you had Daenerys with the three dragons… they’re callbacks, but they’re also glimpses into the future.”

“It’s quite genius to link the two shows in that regard, through magic.”

SO DID YOU DECIDE DELIBERATELY NOT TO WATCH GAME OF THRONES WHEN YOU WERE CAST? AND WILL YOU WATCH IT ONE DAY?

“Yeah, when this show finishes up, I’d love to get around to watching Game Of Thrones.”

“It was just always a choice that I made when I landed the role.”

“I didn’t want to watch it and have it consciously – or subconsciously – affect my choices for my character…”

“I really wanted to draw from other worlds and areas of pop culture and different sources of inspiration.”

HAVE YOU HAD MUCH CONTACT WITH GEORGE R.R. MARTIN HIMSELF?

“No, I haven’t, but he’s definitely a man’s brain I’d like to pick for sure.”

“I’d love to meet him and talk about all things Aemond.”

THIS WAS AN EIGHT-EPISODE SEASON. WOULD YOU, IN SOME RESPECTS, LIKED TO HAVE SEEN A COUPLE MORE EPISODES TO EXPAND THE STORYLINE?

“I just think the more House Of The Dragon the better, you know?”

“I just love exploring Aemond and I can’t wait to explore even more so in the next season.”

SO WHAT ARE YOU ANTICIPATING FOR HIM IN SEASON THREE?

“They’ve always said that Targaryens are closer to Gods than men… but after episode seven with 'The Red Sowing,' that kind of put that belief into question.”

“The divide between the common folk and Dragonlords isn’t as big as what it was thought to be.”

“And so it kind of puts all Targaryens… we’re just like common folk.”

“And I think Aemond, he retaliates in such a way (that you see in episode eight) that’s quite desperate.”

“He literally begs his sister, Helaena, to join him on dragonback to take out Daemon.”

“Going into season three, there’s certainly a blockade that needs to be broken.”

DAEMON USES THE IMMORTAL PHRASE, “WINTER IS COMING” IN THE SEASON TWO FINALE. DO YOU FEEL LIKE SEASON THREE WILL BE AN MUCH DARKER?

“I think so.”

“They say that when a Targaryen is born, they get to toss a coin.”

“One side is greatness and the other side is madness.”

“And we’ve got a whole family of these guys.”

“So you could argue this is probably the craziest we’ve ever seen Westeros.”

“And next season, they’re going to be at each other’s throats.”

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emfleaa · 1 month

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My horrible, no good, very bad, terrible, awful Mold!Ethan design (or his mutation if he’d had one)

clearly heavily influenced by the cleric beast from Bloodborne.

but I do actually have my reasons alongside the fact that I simply think the aesthetic fits well.

Deer/Antlers/Head

To me, Ethan Winters is best signified as a stag; a deer. The cleric beast, while not being completely ‘deer focused’, does have notable traits.

Deer are often thought of as shy, meek, weak prey animals due to their herbivore nature. Though certainly that can be the case, other times it is not. Deer are powerful creatures, quick and nimble. Antlers grown by deer can be strong enough to puncture the body or even cause interlocking, resulting in the eventual starvation of the other male (as well as possible decapitation).

Deer can be dangerous despite their initial appearance. A deer's kick can generate an estimated 700 psi. In comparison, a human punch can generate around 200 psi. They can easily break bone, knock a person down or cause internal bleeding through striking someone.

Ethan is often a character seen as weak or lesser than other Resident Evil protagonists, which I think is quite ridiculous. Drawing the parallel of deer and Ethan being seen as meek is an easy gap to bridge. But both are powerhouses in reality. Ethan is an unstoppable force to be reckoned with, injuries or not. More often than not, he is injuried in some form during gameplay.

Deer, even being hit by a car can still kill a man by kicking him to death through the windshield. (If it survives the initial impact of course.)

His antlers, and by extension head, would be made up of a hard material- possibly bone like. Perfect for ramming, skewering and protection.

Fur, claws, fangs, Skin

As for the fur aspect, I’m going to explain that using headcanon power/kind of canonical shit.

HGT or Horizontal Gene Transfer is the movement of genetic material between organisms other than the ‘vertical’ transmission of DNA from parent to offspring(reproduction).

HGT is present within the games and it is quite literally why Ethan is still Ethan after he is made up from the mold. Miranda uses it as well, disguising as Mia, and even Marguerite Baker ended up as a chimera of various insect genomes intersecting with her own.

All this to say, I believe the fur would come from lycans. But how?? How, dear god, is that even possible if lycans are the result of cadou experiments, emfleaa??? This is where things get more headcanony if they weren’t already. The cadou parasite changes one’s body, altering them heavily or not so unheavily. We know that lycans were the result of the cadou not taking properly to villagers, yet they are still a result of the cadou itself! As for how the DNA would be transferred onto Ethan, my explanation is extremely simple that it’s frankly stupid but apt, in my eyes.

He got his fucking fingers bitten off.

Now, I’m not saying the bite ‘infected’ Ethan, because clearly it didn’t. But for the sake of my little mold critter, I do think some lycan dna was taken in by the mold making up Ethan as a sort of reserve. Probably through the absorption of the lycans saliva through the wound.

And hence, the fur, the claws, the sharp teeth.

The skin, as I could try to depict it, wouldn’t actually be skin. It would more so be like the texture of the Molded from RE7, made up of pulsing mold.

Bloodborne

Bloodborne is so fucking amazing and personally one part sticks out to me and really makes me think of Ethan.

Djura, the retired hunter in Old Yharnam says, “There’s nothing more horrific than a hunt. In case you’ve failed to realize… the things you hunt, they’re not beasts. They’re people.”

I personally believe this sentiment fits Ethan so goddamn well. Especially if he were to mutate at all, into a beast, a monster. He’s still a person, somewhere deep down (probably).

But how or why would he mutate at all?

BLAAARRGHHH if you’re here for non-headcanon explorations into this topic this is where you can check out because I AM NOT GOING TO CLAIM I AM AN ETHAN WINTERS EXPERT. NOR RESIDENT EVIL. I AM SIMPLY A FAN WHO LIKES THIS WHITE BOY.

I truly believe Ethan Winters wouldn’t mutate unless under extreme emotional distress. I don’t believe that extreme physical distress would trigger a mutation within him, as he’s unfortunately fairly used to extreme physical distress. (Hand cut off, leg cut off, hand cut off again, impaled so many times, thrown around like a ragdoll, etc.)

Because of this mutation during extreme emotional states, I think his mutation would be a bit different from the usual “IM KILLING YOU. IM KILLING YOU. I DONT CARE WHATEVER THE FUCK ELSE IS GOING ON, I AM KILLING THAT GUY RIGHT THERE” mutation. I do think Ethan is capable of reacting violently, no doubt. I think he would lash out and create problems, but I don’t think he would actively seek them. To me, Ethan is the best example of the human will to survive.

I believe his mutation would prioritize survival over anything else. Doing whatever he needs to do to survive, no matter the cost, while staying safe.

I think on the chart of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, Mold!Ethan would simply want the basic needs. While Ethan himself would want all of them, as is human nature.

Mold!Ethan would not seek violence, unless provoked I believe. (Which would probably happen anyways considering the conditions needed for this mutation to arise to begin with.)

What’s with the eyes/red marks?

On the topic of his eyes, you’re probably thinking, uh, where the fuck are they or why are they closed. Both great questions. My answers?

His eyes are on his face, they’re pretty massive. I imagine that he’d have them closed most of the time, as seeing through such large eyes would be incredibly overwhelming, possibly painful. Once more, I believe he’d only open them out of necessity, or extreme distress.

He’s got those big bulgy eyes like a dog or a rat boggling. (Eye colors were inspired by Jack Baker’s mutated form in the boathouse.)

The red marks along the skin are scarring; I just made them red as a sort of undertone glow that some mutations in the series have. I tried to depict most of his more severe/memorable injuries through the scars left behind, including the exclusion of his two eaten fingers.

Okay that was a lot. Anything else?

yeah uhhh here’s molded Ethan freakin out I imagine him to be like one of those really nervous shaky chihuahuas despite being incredibly tall if he stood up straight (though he quite feasibly can’t, he wouldn’t be able to support his weight)

there’s a whole bunch of shit else but that simply delves into my headcanons of Ethan himself, and idk about exploring them too much here haha, I’m already nervous enough as is with my silly ideas

if you read this far you can smoke a fat one with mold!ethan my thanks to you

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goosetheluce · 1 year

Text

It's Been a While (Gwen Stacy x Fem!Reader)

requested by anon: "can I req one where it's like a little reunion after atsv? Like before she goes and sees her dad she goes and sees reader bc she's been missing for months and Gwen's probably worried at first but readers just too happy to see her again.maybe a little friends to lovers, thank youuuuu☺️☺️☺️"

info: decently angsty, physical affection (kissing, hugging, hand holding), crying, flashbacks, desperate!gwen, gwen 3rd person pov, cussing, use of y/n

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Gwen's entire body was crawling with nerves as she flung out her webs. She surged through her home city with poise and elegance. Her anxiety was shielded on the outside; Spider-Woman always had to be collected, breezy, perfect. Even now. Especially now, considering the news cameras and helicopters pointed at her. She could only imagine the headlines being displayed all across New York:

Vigilante "Spider-Woman" Makes An Appearance After Months

Masked Hero Re-Appears

Ghost-Spider Visits During Violent Era Beginning Without Her

She groaned in frustration, doing her best to outrun the nightcrawlers and news stations. Her father was probably getting his force ready to incarcerate her that very moment. A chill spread across her skin, and it wasn't the frigid rain.

She swung into an alleyway, ripping her mask off to catch her breath. Her time before Miles was put in real danger was ticking away, and this game of cat and mouse certainly wasn't helping. She sighed and sunk down the brick wall in exhaustion. Gwen needed to figure something out before she was cornered in the labyrinth that was New York City.

She listened to the cars screeching in the distance, listened to the bar fights, the laughter of a group of teenage girls past their curfews. It was by no means a city of sunshine, but she desperately missed her life.

Desperately missed you.

Gwen pulled her hood over her head as far as possible, ignoring the sting filling her eyes. She sighed shakily, breath condensing in the autumn thunder.

She needed to see you. Besides, it's not like she had much of a choice.

God, why did I have to make my suit bright fucking white? Maybe then these idiots would leave me alone.

Even now she heard the choppers pulsing in the sky. She wondered with a shudder how many were police force. Gotta get out of this suit.

She slipped her mask back on and set off. See, Gwen would never commit a crime with malicious intent. Hell, she was Spider-Woman, but she couldn't see any other way blend into the city without the chance of bumping into her dad at the apartment.

So she robbed a clothing store.

As gently as possible, but unfortunately that still meant damage. Gwen huffed. Had it really come down to this?

She pulled her arm back, flinching away from the window as she shattered it with a simple punch, even whispered "sorry" as if that changed anything. The shards clinked against the sleek-tiled floor of the Nike shop and she hopped inside with ease.

Don't have much time, she noted. The alert system wailed deafeningly as she shot webs at every security camera and stole the footage for that night. She raced through the store, grabbing a pair of black sweatpants and a navy blue winter compression shirt. She changed right there in the store with the cameras blinded. She swiped a drawstring bag and stuffed her suit and mask inside. She kneeled down to lace up her converse tightly. She still had a long way to go to your flat.

Gripping the strings of her bag tightly, she raced away. The rain had stopped, but the storm still threatened deep rumbles of thunder a couple of miles away. Her swift footsteps splashed through grimey puddles lit by orange streetlamps. The city seemed more perilous than ever as sirens screamed and guns fired, and guilt struck her chest.

Internally thanking her enhanced speed and endurance, Gwen stared up at your window not even ten minutes after she fled the store. Now came the hardest part: facing you, her closest friend, after she joined the society. Truthfully, she missed the warmth gifted to her from your loving arms. Something her dad never gave her before she left.

She paced around the block over and over again, wondering what the hell she was supposed to say to you. "Hey, I'm back after months of radio silence, and don't mind that I just crawled up your wall because it turns out I've been a human-spider freak this whole time. Missed you too."

Suddenly, it didn't matter what Gwen wanted to say anymore, because a police car was turning the corner.

"Fuck!"

She dashed up the wall and onto the roof, crouching to avoid any nearby helicopters. She released her breath in relief. She shook out her body and rubbed her temples. This was it. She began to crawl down the face of the complex, hoping she'd remember the right window.

Perk number 42 of being bitten by a radioactive spider.

She peered inside the window of your bedroom. It was convenient for her in the moment, but Gwen made a note to scold you for leaving your blinds open. She reached her hand out, hesitated, then curled it into a fist and gently tapped. She squeezed her eyes shut.

She saw you look up from your school laptop in confusion.

It's one in the morning and this woman is really doing homework.

Gwen tapped again.

"Y/N!" she called out softly. "Y/N, let me in!"

She heard a muffled "what the fuck?" through the glass.

"Gwen?" you whisper screamed in disbelief, unlocking your window and pulling it open. Your jaw went slack as Gwen simply jumped off the wall while diving into your window.

"Y/N, before you say anything, let me explain," she frantically rambled. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Please." Her eyes opened slowly to see you. Her body went rigid.

Fuck, she's crying.

Tears were welling and threatening to spill out from your eyes. Your fists were clenched so tightly that your nails left crescent moons gouged into your palms.

"What the hell was that?" you laughed breathily before rushing forward to hug her. You practically constricted her as you wrapped your arms around her waist. She had no idea what to do for a moment. Her own emotions were about to overflow and wash her composure away. Gwen settled for squishing her cheek against yours while holding you tight. As she rubbed your back, your sobs quieted.

You pulled away, wiping the wetness away from your eyes and lips. Gwen's stare lingered as your thumb grazed over your bottom lip out of habit. You stood up a little bit taller.

"It's been a while, Gwen."

Her stance jerked a little, barely even noticeable.

"I know. I've got a lot to explain to you, if you're willing to listen." You nodded firmly, turning around to sit back down on your bed. You patted the space adjacent to you.

Gwen took seat, spreading her legs out comfortably and resting her forearms on her knees. Her posture was slanted; it was still hard for her to make eye contact with you. She didn't want to find anger or disappointment in those eyes she had stared into one too many times. Eyes that haunted her in the most tragically beautiful manner possible.

"I disappeared," Gwen began hesitantly. "But not without a reason. So much has happened in the last two years, I just...I guess it all came to one single point and that was it for me. I had no chances left, no risks to take. It was over."

Her explanation was raw, quivering and vulnerable. Your heart began to race, wondering what she'd say next. You had no idea what was going on; yeah, Gwen did ballet and gymnastics or whatever, but that little trick she did to get into your window was no joke.

She jumped up from the bed and turned to face you.

I have to do this now.

"This is the craziest part, but you have to believe me," she whispered. Fear coated her rocky voice and widened her eyes. You blinked at her in reassurance, smiling a bit.

"Gwen, just tell me. You know I'll listen."

She sighed heavily and grabbed her bag off the floor. "Okay. Give me a second. And don't make any noise when I come out." She slipped into your closet and shut the door silently behind her. The light flickered on and leaked out from underneath the doorframe. You watched her shadow move fluidly.

Inside the closet, Gwen was hyperventilating as she fit herself into her suit. She looked into the body-length mirror sitting on your floor, and a tear traced down her cheek. She was staring at her worst enemy, and she despised who she saw in the suit. Spider-Woman was a different entity.

She turned around and faced the closet door. Gwen placed her hand on the knob, taking a deep breath before turning it and pushing it open. She couldn't look at you, but when she tried, you weren't there. Her blood froze in her own veins.

Gwen was back in that collapsed building, that very same night, staring her father's gun down.

"Why the fuck am I here?" she questioned, panic filling her voice. She looked around, desperately trying to find your apartment, your face. Her movements suddenly were not her own anymore as she involuntarily turned to face her father. Her hands were lifted up above her head, but they sank down. One inched toward her mask.

No.

Her body didn't listen. Her fingers met her chin, grasping the enhanced material concealing her face from the world.

No!

She felt the cool air hit her lips, then her nose, and finally her weary eyes. She watched her father's face contort into horror and disbelief. Gwen finally found the ability to force her eyes to shut, tears spilling out. When she opened them again, she was back in your closet.

"Gwen? What's taking so long?" you called out quietly from your room.

She gasped for air, clutching her chest as she spasmed in silence. She aggressively rubbed her arm over her eyes, biting the inside of her cheek to stop herself from crying.

I have to do this. What happened before doesn't matter. I have to save things with her.

Once more, Gwen turned the handle and stepped out. She was relieved to find you sitting on your bed, staring at her.

"Uh, nice costume Gwen, but I was kinda hoping for you to finish your explanation?" you sarcastically jabbed.

"Y/N..." Gwen groaned. "It's not a costume."

You scoffed, becoming impatient.

"Really! It isn't, Y/N!" Gwen frantically begged with you to understand. You crossed your arms.

"How am I supposed to believe you're Spider-Woman?"

Gwen shoved her face into her hands. Her frustration boiled.

"You're gonna believe me after this," she nearly growled, flitting forward and taking you in her arms. She slapped a hand over your mouth to quiet your protest. She pulled her mask down and shot a web out of your window, slingshotting out of your room and into the night.

You were a mile away from your apartment in a matter of seconds while Gwen (Spider-Woman...?) held you firmly in her left arm, tossing you lightly in the air before you landed on her back. She guided your arms and legs to wrap tightly around her back as you let out a shriek. Your hair flew straight behind you in the cold wind.

"Gwen, I fucking believe you now," you choked out into her ear. You could barely speak in your terror. The eyes of her suit went wide and she aimed for the top of another building.

She landed perfectly en pointe, her converse flexing to match the arch of her technique.

"Shit, Y/N, I'm so sorry-"

Gwen's apology was cut short as you gripped her broad shoulders.

"You're motherfucking Spider-Woman!" you yelled in awe. A thick sheet of rain was nearing as Gwen's eyes welled behind the mask.

"You don't think I'm a bad person? Or...or a freak?" she whispered shakily. Your face softened. You slid your hands up from her shoulders, caressing her face. Her eyes squinted before closing as she leaned into your touch. She reached her own hand up and cupped yours. Gwen's soul lit afire as she stared at your gorgeous face, felt the warmth of your love and bare skin.

You simply shook your head.

"What a dumb question. You're my best friend. And when you left, I...I mean, I guess I just didn't know what to do with myself. I lost a part of me."

The words coming out of your mouth felt wrong. Gwen's heart screamed in desolation. Maybe you would never understand.

Best friend.

"You lost a part of yourself, but I couldn't breathe without you," she murmured, bringing her other hand up to find more ways to touch you.

Your heart began to pound as her fingers laced with yours. The rain began to fall over you, drenching Gwen for the second time that night. What did she mean by that? You could have sworn you felt her rapid pulse intensify even more as you experimentally pressed your forehead against hers.

"Gwen..."

You brought your hands (still cupping her face) down to the base of her mask, forcing her own hands to fall away. You traced circles into her skin before gently sliding the disguise up above her lips.

Gwen painfully rasped your name while her digits found your skin again, this time resting timidly on the small of your back. She needed this so badly from you all these years, even more so as your face became a tale, something she could only dream of.

"Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me. Please, please, please, just kiss me and never let me leave your side again, I'd do anything for you, Y/N-" she began to sob, but you caught her trembling lips in yours. Gwen immediately pulled you deeper into her hold, your bodies fitting together like a beautiful puzzle. Her fingers tangled into your hair and she pulled her mask all the way off. Her hood fell and her blonde waves began to frizz and tighten with the rain.

She savored the taste of your lip balm and the remnants of your bedtime herbal tea, picking you up and allowing you to wrap your legs around her. You pulled away, breathless and eyes filled with the starlight that the stormy midnight lacked.

"I love you, Gwen," you breathed. "But you're back for a reason. I don't know what reason that is, but you have to do it. We're counting on you."

Gwen nodded, dropping you safely and kneeling down to fit her mask back over her face and to allow you to cling to her.

"You forgot something, Ghost-Spider," you teased, sliding her hood over her head.

She scoffed, looking back at you with narrowed eyes. "That's Gwen to you."

In no time, you were delivered back to your warm bed. The rain pattered soothingly against your window while Gwen dried her suit off with a towel you lent to her. She eventually settled for just laying the towel down on your bed and sitting on it.

"So...are you my superhero girlfriend now, or am I about to wake up from the most story-oriented dream of my life?"

Gwen laughed softly. Everything in her life was fucked, but you brought a glow back to her existence. She had something to look forward to now. She pushed her hand to lock with yours.

"For the record, if this is a dream, then you and I are definitely imaginary girlfriends. But, since this is hopefully real life..." she assured, squeezing your hand. "Yeah, I'm your superhero girlfriend." You began to fluster, heat creeping across your cheeks.

Gwen stood up, still holding your smaller hand in her stronger grasp.

"Which unfortunately also means I've gotta do superhero girlfriend stuff," she sighed, brushing her hair behind her heavily pierced ear. She looked at you apologetically as your grip on her tightened.

"Hey, we'll see each other again. I promise," she whispered, pressing a sugary kiss to your lips before backing away, her fingers slipping out of your reach. She pulled her mask down swiftly before turning around and leaping out of your window.

"I love you!" you shouted after her. Gwen beamed as she jumped through the city, posing in a recital-like fashion for the cameras when she lowered to the streets.

The rain didn't feel so cold anymore.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

a/n: thanks for reading!! if you're sapphic and in love with gwen then. definitely check my other gwen fics out hehe. been thinkingggg about a villain gwen x fem!reader au? let me know by sending smth to my inbox as a request or commenting !

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nothankyoudear · 2 years

Text

The first time Merlin and Arthur talk, it's due to a seating chart.

One moment Merlin is sitting with Will and talking about anything that isn't Biology, and the other he's sitting next to the football captain who- if he's being honest with himself - intimidates him just a little bit.

Because Arthur is all blonde hair and blue eyes and arms as thick as Merlin's thighs, and Merlin is just Merlin - some boy in the back of the class who never speaks.

Arthur is surprisingly nice, although a little bit egotistical at times. He's kind, and when he smiles Merlin can see his canines that kind of make him look like an overgrown puppy (Merlin tries not to think about why he's been so focused on Arthur's smile or his teeth because that's a little bit creepy).

They switch seats again once the semester's over, and Merlin figures that that would be the end of that.

Because Arthur is all laughing with friends and doing sports and having girls faint at his feet, and Merlin is just Merlin. Arthur has no real reason to associate with Merlin after this, so Merlin just lifts his bag and sits next to some girl with brown hair as he silently mourns his silly little crush on the football captain.

Only, it doesn't end there.

The second time Merlin and Arthur talk, Merlin is standing in front of his locker.

Merlin is putting away things from his last period when he gets tapped on the shoulder. He expects Gwen or Will, and is ready to complain to them about some random assignment when he is faced with blonde hair and blue eyes instead.

Arthur asks Merlin if he'd like to come to his next football game. Merlin has no idea what's happening, but Arthur is blushing and looking away and running his hands through his hair, and Merlin responds yes before processing anything.

Merlin goes to the game. He has no idea what's happening for the entirety of it, but Arthur smiles at him from the field and Merlin can feel his heart pounding in his ears.

The third time Merlin and Arthur talk, Merlin doesn't quite understand what's going on.

Arthur puts his lunch tray down in front of the seat that is next to Merlin's like he's sat there every day for the past four years. Merlin is a little confused, and wishes that Gwen and Will would stop waggling their eyebrows at him like they're having multiple strokes. When he looks back at the table where Arthur usually sits with his teammates, he can see Gwaine winking at him and making a gesture that should not be made in the school cafeteria.

Merlin is now more than a little bit confused, but he simply eats his soggy slice of pizza and ignores it when Gwen and Will suspiciously has to leave together for some very important business that must be handled together and will take the entirety of the rest of the lunch period.

Arthur is also staring at Merlin weirdly intensely, but Merlin is also staring right back.

Because Arthur is gorgeous and good-looking and built like a Greek god, and you can't really blame Merlin for staring when he's right there.

The next time Merlin and Arthur talk, Merlin is so darn confused he thinks he's losing his mind.

Arthur asks Merlin out for winter formal. Merlin checks behind him for a possible game of truth or dare around the corner, and blinks at Arthur when he doesn't find anything.

When Arthur grows visibly more and more upset at Merlin's silence, Merlin can't stand the kicked puppy expression that he has and straight up asks Arthur if this is a prank. Arthur says no, and Merlin asks why.

Because Arthur is beautiful and handsome and smiles like he's the sun, and Merlin is just Merlin. Arthur could have anyone he'd like in the school, so certainly he would not like the weirdly quiet boy who has holes in his jeans and rips in his sweaters.

Only, he does.

Because Arthur tells Merlin that, to Arthur, Merlin isn't just some boy in the back of the class who never speaks, and he isn't the weirdly quiet boy who has holes in his jeans and rips in his sweaters.

To Arthur, Merlin is the boy whose nose scrunches up adorably when he's focused on a Biology paper. He's the boy that Arthur had been looking at from the other side of the Biology classroom long before they got put together in the seating chart, and the boy that made Arthur's heart drop when he realized that he had no actual reason to talk to anymore after they switched seats.

He's the boy who Arthur is sure that his friends are sick of hearing about. The boy with the sassy remarks that make Arthur wants to kiss him, and the boy who Arthur wants to make smile all the time, whose hands Arthur wants to hold.

Merlin kisses him right there in the hallway, because if he held himself back for one more second he might've actually exploded. Arthur kisses him back.

The next time Merlin and Arthur talk (around half a minute after their kiss), Arthur asks Merlin to be his boyfriend. Merlin says yes, and Arthur smiles so bright that Merlin thinks of the puppy again.

Merlin goes with Arthur to the winter formal, even if the tickets are outrageously expensive. Merlin attends every single one of Arthur's games just to be kissed after them, and as he is laying in bed one day with Arthur's chest pressed up to his back and Arthur's strong arms around his waist, Merlin thinks about writing a thank-you note to his Biology teacher.

And while Arthur is still all blonde hair and blue eyes and arms as thick as Merlin's thighs, and Merlin is still just Merlin, Arthur loves Merlin, and Merlin loves him right back.

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joels6string · 2 years

Note

dear santa,

i mean, dear kate* 🫣

can i wish a very spicy joel miller story? as if the ones you wrote weren’t spicy and perfect enough… BUT! maybe something like enemies to lovers?

i actually have no idea what i’m asking. you’re the mastermind here. anything joel related, i want it on my desk 😮‍💨🫶

Merry Angst-mas for this one. I swear the other prompts are very lighthearted and happy. Like, Joel ice skating, and modern AU snowstorm hero... don't give up on me 😂

Damned If I Do

Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: You hate him, he hates you. It's as simple as that, right?

Rating: E

Word Count: 3.1k

Content: Enemies to lovers. The two main food groups: Smut and Sad. Creator has chosen to not give content warnings, read at your own risk.

“You give a shit about me, Miller?” you asked, trying to taunt but only sounding as desperate as he did. Despite his words over the months you’d known him, his actions had certainly always told a different story, one he was trying to keep from pouring free right now. “Tryin’ not to.” “Why’s that?” “Lovin’ me’s a curse.”

The mood was somber, even more so than usual. It was December, the frigid winter air whipping through the Boston quarantine zone, the dilapidated building you were currently holed up in doing little to keep you from its stinging bite.

“You gonna be a god damn liability again this time?” The voice made your skin crawl.

“Merry Christmas to you too,” you grumbled under your breath, it was no use arguing with him.

Tess had gone ahead to negotiate the terms of your impending deal, leaving you and Joel to wait for the upcoming weapons haul pickup that had been looming over your head for days. You’d chosen Christmas Eve in hopes that the military personnel surrounding every wall of the zone would be scarce, on holiday leave, doing something other than their damn worthless jobs for once. Not that there was shit to celebrate anyway.

“I asked you a question,” he barked in response to your muttering, his face severe when you dared a peek at it.

“I don’t know, Miller,” you sneered, “Just let them take me out this time and put us both out of our fucking misery, huh?”

“I’d never hear the end of it.”

Tess would give him an earful. Sometimes you thought the threat of Tess’ wrath was the only thing keeping you alive, this was doing enough to prove that to be true. When the woman in question returned to you and him on opposite sides of the room facing your respective walls, she sternly reminded you both that lives were on the line. Now wasn’t the time for bickering and your heads belonged in the game, not your asses. You both begrudgingly agreed.

When it came down to it, it was your turn to put a bullet between the eyes of someone that had Joel by the throat long enough to make his vision blacken at the fringe, the ice beneath his cheek brutal and sharp as he fell to the ground with a huff.

“You’re welcome,” you snapped, stepping over his gasping body without so much as a glance down, his furious snarl still audible over the winds.

It had been a setup, of course, hunters almost picking the three of you off when you got to the abandoned drop zone.

“Thought you negotiated this shit, Tess!?” Joel barked, throwing his bloodied baseball bat onto the ground with a heavy thud, “We come out here just for a quick shoot out and frostbite or you got somethin’ else up those sleeves of yours?”

“I thought it was sound!” she snapped back, guilt heavy in her voice as she accepted her error in ways Joel could never.

“Yeah, Merry fuckin’ Christmas–”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Joel,” you interjected, exasperated, cold, and perturbed beyond a reasonable limit, “You wouldn’t have done any fucking better–”

“I would have made damn sure I wasn’t bringin’ either of you to a god damn ambush! That’s what I woulda done!”

“Well, you were a great help tonight–”

Your words were cut short by a hand clamping over your mouth, the frozen sharp tip of a knife knicking into the soft skin of your throat. The ice scattered throughout the cracked pavement made it impossible to get your footing as you were dragged backward, your heart pounding as you watched Joel’s eyes widen in panic, his revolver drawn and aimed, his gaze begging for a clear shot. Looks like he’d get his Christmas wish after all.

There was no use in fighting it, if anything having the warmth of a body pressed behind you would have you one less step from miserable as you took your last breaths. You hoped he made it quick, you weren’t in the damn mood for games or semantics. Joel wouldn’t trade a dirty sock for your life, but that look in his eyes before you were pulled from his sight had certainly been unexpected.

He and Tess had probably run off, who knew who else was coming, this man couldn’t be alone. They were smart to do so. Ammo was running low, stamina even lower, and even at their best, they couldn’t take out another squadron of hunters. You’d made it 15 years in this God-forsaken world, it was a lot more than most could boast. Somehow dying at the filthy hands of this human felt worse than getting infected, at least those monsters didn’t know any better.

Even through the thick canvas of your jacket, you felt the burn of the pavement scraping your elbows, your hiss of discomfort pulling a sneering smile.

“Don’t move,” he ordered, and you curled your lip as your eyes rolled, Joel's voice echoing in your head, ‘Don’t gimme that sass.”

Had it been an hour? Maybe two? You couldn’t tell. The darkness was unforgiving and unwavering, the cold setting into your bones as you shivered knees to your chest in an attempt to preserve your body heat. You’d be dead by morning from hypothermia alone. Gunshots rang out, screams and cries, yelps, glass shattering. What the fuck? What kind of hell zone was this? Crawling to peer around the old metal shipping container you’d been stashed in, your curious gaze was met with the sight of Joel Miller bashing at your captor’s head with a brick, blood splattered across his face, eyes alight with rage.

“Joel…” you gasped through numbed lips, you’d never been happier to see that sour face in your life, his expression softening as the man in his grasp fell to the ground in a gory heap.

“There you are,” you sighed, “Let’s go. Can you walk?”

His heavy coat he’d slipped over your shoulders swallowed you whole as you led you through the still hunter-infested maze. Ducking behind crates and in abandoned buildings, he had the exact route mapped to have you free and clear within minutes, the walls of Boston greeting you just as the feeling had returned to the tips of your toes. He was silent on the route back, his eyes flicking over his shoulder to ensure you were safely behind him periodically, the sphere emanating from your flashlight highlighting the silver hairs streaking through the black on the back of his head.

“Stop,” he instructed, tanks driving by as a new congregation of troops gathered right outside the final building that led to safety, “Shit. This might be as far as we get til dawn.”

“Great,” you scoffed.

“Let’s go up, keep eyes on ‘em.”

With enemies so close, a fire was out of the question, your chattering teeth and tensed muscles hard to ignore as you stared at the hulking form staring out the shattered window.

“Joel…” you finally sounded, his head ticking towards you the only acknowledgment you received, “Why’d you come back?”

“If anyone’s gonna kill ya, it’s gonna be me,” he teased, a puff of breath glowing in the moonlight leaking in around him, “and now we’re even.”

“We’re even…”

Of course it was about evening the score. You’d saved his life, he’d saved yours, though you were almost positive you were still deep in his debt. It wasn’t often Joel needed a helping hand. He was as formidable as he was cold, that stony expression rarely breaking. Except it had, tonight. You hadn’t forgotten.

“Joel…” you called again, his body turning now to face you pathetically shivering in the corner. You hoped he didn’t make you ask, it was already mortifying insinuating it.

“I got you,” he cooed, leaving his post and gesturing for you to lean forward as he approached, nestling in behind you, legs on either side caging you in, his arms wrapping around your middle as you nestled back against him.

Even in nothing but a worn-out flannel, he was warm, your sigh of relief drawing a muted chuckle from his chest as you melted in his hold. Bygones could be bygones, the chill you swore would be permanent dissipating with each deep breath you were now able to take. It had been years since you’d been this close to another human in a non-threatening manner, the first time someone cradled you against them, allowing you a moment of solace and safety. You’d never expected to find that safety here, in these arms.

“You can sleep,” he permitted, your body immediately accepting the offer and drifting off, your head lolling beneath his chin as his thick beard caught on your hair.

Gray light filled the dingy room as your eyes fluttered open. You were sweating now, your neck straining beneath a heavy weight settled on your head, heavy breaths echoing in your ear. Joel. He was asleep behind you, his cheek resting on you from where you’d spent your night pressed into him, his arms still tightly wrapped around you even passed out cold. At the first twitch of your head, he was rousing, grunting as he became alert once again.

Shifting enough to peer up at him, you watched his hazel eyes wake in the eerie glow of dawn before they locked with yours, the stone chipped away just enough to reveal a glimmer of vulnerability.

“Why you lookin’ at me like that?” he asked softly, keeping the proximity you’d woken in instead of pulling away like you’d expected him to.

All you could muster was a shrug, his plush lips too close for you to concentrate.

“I can’t do this…” he whimpered, his tone stabbing you right in the chest, “Stop making me give a shit about you.”

“Tryin’ not to.”

“Why’s that?”

“Lovin’ me’s a curse.”

That didn’t matter. You’d danced with the devil already, what was one more tango? His hair was softer than you thought it would be when your fingers weaved into the strands on the back of his head, pulling his lips to yours in a daring risk of affection. You weren’t sure what shocked you more, your bravery or the fact that he greedily accepted your kiss, one large palm splaying across your stomach that was currently churning with something you hadn’t felt in over a decade.

It was all teeth and pressure, tongues wrestling as you tugged him closer by the hold on his hair, his body turning to face yours and press you down onto the cold wood of the floor, one hand cupping the back of your head to save it from the splintering surface. Your hands started on his belt first, your mouths still devouring the other as months of pent-up tension and hidden desires spilled over, your lungs selfishly inhaling his carnal groan as you gripped his cock as it sprang free and dragged your fist along his impressive length. Control was forgotten as you leaned up and captured his bottom lip again, his mind unable to focus on both your mouth and your hand as you continued to tug, his reciprocating kiss always slightly too late as his hips began to rock into your hold.

“Turn,” he commanded, his voice giving no room for objection, “S’too cold for any other way.”

As much as you wanted to argue, he was right. You obeyed, presenting yourself to him on all fours before your jeans were pulled just past the swell of your ass, his hands squeezing at your searing globes voraciously. You wished you could see his face. Slick fingers swiped over your pulsing hole, swirling spit around to ease his plunge into your waiting depths. You were quivering with anticipation, a stark contrast from last night as every inch of you burned now even in the subzero December temperatures.

Even if you wanted to stop it, you wouldn’t have been able to contain the lewd cry that erupted as you stretched around him. The feeling of his shaft slowly slipping inside of you made you realize just how soaked you were, his path unhindered on its way into the deepest parts of your body. You knew he could feel it, too, his hands shaking where they held you in place around your waist, breaths audibly ragged as he bottomed out.

“Shush now, darlin’,” he soothed, once again stroking over the plushness of your hips, “I can’t kill a man in this state.”

If that was intended to calm you down, he’d failed. Your cunt clenched around him so tightly he chuckled gruffly, pulling out and snapping his hips back against your ass just hard enough to have you jerking forward and keening, your teeth sinking into the sleeve of his jacket still loosely hanging on your much smaller frame. It didn’t take long for his pace to regulate, hard and fast just as you expected him to be, your arousal leaking down your inner thighs as he pinpointed the velvety patch decorating your inner wall, his precision just as accurate as he was with a rifle.

The limitations were agonizing. You wanted more. You wanted to marvel at the way his lips were parted and the hazel of his eyes swallowed by blackened lust, grip his chest and his neck, swallow his muted whines, and whisper how fucking good he felt into the soft, scarred skin of his neck. Pressure was building immeasurably quick, his rough fingers now rubbing circles over your clit leaving you nothing but a boneless heap in his hands. He was holding you upright now, your body limp for him to use as he saw fit, but the only thing he chased was your release.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he urged, “just let it go for me.”

Who were you to deny him anything? You clamped down around him as the elastic band in your belly finally snapped, shockwaves electrifying every nerve from the tips of your toes to the top of your skull, your eyes rolling back in your head as you chanted his name like a prayer. He followed not long after, pulling out with a roar and emptying onto an old rag he’d grabbed from the floor, his chest heaving as he moaned in relief. You wanted to scramble over to him, kiss his cheek, temple, eye, forehead, anything you could reach as he finished in the absence of your warmth, but you were too spent, too delirious, too thoroughly fucked to move quickly enough.

“Joel…” you whimpered, searching for him in the still-dim space, your hand reaching up and waiting for his fingers to intertwine with, “Joel…”

“I’m right here,” he answered as he gave you what you were searching for, his lips pressing to the back of your palm as he pulled you back into his chest, “We need to go. Tess’ll be worried.”

When you returned, you didn’t need to tell Tess what had transpired, she could tell. But even with her deduced knowledge, she kept her lips sealed. Maybe she knew Joel would tuck and run the moment he was caught, or that he’d recognize what a liability this was in a world such as this. A liability he’d come to terms with faster than he would have liked.

Two months later as February began to slide into March, a hoard of infected was an unexpected addition to your supply run. It was just you and him, it was meant to be simple, and it was, or so he thought.

“Let’s go,” he panted, “More’ll come. We can go another day without.”

“Joel…” you mewled, tears welling in your eyes as he continued to scout the area, “Joel!”

“What? Sweetheart, we gotta go.”

“You gotta go.”

“What the hell are you talk–”

Part of you wished you’d never told him. That you’d run off into the woods and let the last image you had of him be with his revolver in one hand and a machete in the other, doing what he did best with his brute strength and unmatched finesse. Because now, now you’d die with the snapshot of his horror-stricken face staring down at your outstretched palm, frozen, in denial, and forlorn.

“The hell is that?” he asked as if you’d have another explanation.

“You know what it is,” you replied, swallowing your own sorrow, he needed you to be strong now.

“No. No. No, that’s…that’s somethin’ else.”

“Stop–”

“Tell me it’s somethin’ else.”

“Joel, please!”

The way he muttered Jesus fucking Christ under his breath as he turned was the final swing on your shattering resolve, a hand dragging down his face as the other dropped to his hip, his blade plummeting to the pavement with a shrill clang as he let it fall from his grip. You stood still as a statue, watching him come to terms with those teeth marks pierced into the hand that had cupped his jaw so tenderly this morning as he’d kissed you awake.

“I warned you,” he finally said, turning to reveal his soaked cheeks and reddening eyes, “I told you I was a curse.”

“That really what you want to talk about right now?” you pressed, your chest burning as you fought the sobs clawing to get free.

“What do you want me to do?”

Your final wish. It wasn’t hard to decipher what he meant, one of you had to do it.

“I can do it,” you assured, puffing your chest out in a masquerade of bravery and strength, he could see right through it, his brow furrowing as he shook his head.

“No you can’t,” he resigned after clearing his throat and repressing the rage and grief already surging through him, pulling his pistol from the back of his waistband, “Lay down, I can’t watch you fall.”

“Joel, I can–”

“Just…do it.”

The grass was cool against your cheek, its soft caresses weren’t the worst things to feel with your final breaths. Your tears decorated the blades like the dew drops not due for another few months, your heart thudding between your chest and the ground, Joel’s footsteps somehow in tune with every slam of it against your sternum.

Where you expected the muzzle of a pistol, you felt his large palm stroking gently over the back of your head, his lips pressing to your hair one last time and lingering as the wound on your hand pulsed like a warning beacon. You knew you still had time, but the urgency had begun to eat you alive with every dragging second.

“Get on with it, Miller,” you pushed, refusing to give him your eyes, he’d hesitate. You knew that. “Waiting won’t make it any easier.”

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, he was crying again, “I’m sorry…” and that was the last thing you heard before the click of a trigger.

Joel Miller Masterlist

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #tlou

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warping-realities · 1 year

Text

Dalton Academy - Prideful Son (Final)

"Trip, what kind of deal did you make with the old man? Things are weird here man." - Vincent Carmichael was sitting in the leather armchair of the luxurious apartment that came with the position of Dalton's headmaster. He had just gotten out of the shower and poured himself a generous dose of Scotch. But not even the velvety taste calmed him down because he knew that something very unusual was happening. He had led Dalton for many years and had handled the transition of several boys, many of whom had been powerful sources. None of them, however, had done what Jaime Sanchez had done. He himself had been a source although as always happened after the sealing of the contract little of that previous life had been preserved. Precisely because of this he knew that something was not happening as usual. Nothing in that situation went as expected from the beginning, so Trip Hartfield needed to clarify some things.

"Vince, you need to calm down, what the boy may think he knows is certainly not enough to change his destiny. What happened in that room is between me and my ancestor. Dalton never made a mistake, it won't be now that he starts." - Was the answer coming from the phone speaker.

"He manipulated me Trip, do you have any idea how dangerous it can be for someone who thinks like one of us to not be linked to us but working against us? And there's still the matter of Leonardo Reis, he came here for a contract at the request of Flip Thompson and I had assigned the Bear Club boys to deal with him..."

"I asked Flip to take Reis. He was one of the sources of my group and he agreed to do me this favor."

"What? Why? And why didn't you inform me?"

"Because it's part of the deal I made with the old man. He gave me a list of names of interest. Reis' name was separate from the others, not even Chad knows he was on that list . But he is as important as the others."

"What kind of game is the old man playing, Trip?"

"I don't know Vince, but we need to trust him."

…..

The boy was very good at understanding when something was wrong and that day he had the feeling that something very wrong was about to happen. The winter had been merciless, they had little food and the fight for their territory in that land had been incessant. The warriors are few and the mouths to feed are many. In that situation a seven-year-old blind boy was a burden that few were willing to carry. Of course he didn't understand all of that rationally, but instinctively he knew something was coming. His mother had been tearful all morning and his father, who never paid him much attention had hugged him tightly. Ulf knew they were both heavily criticized for letting him live, but they were in a new land and had lost so many on the journey there that sacrificing the first baby born in that place seemed like a bad omen. And when the boy started to grow it became clear that despite his visual impairment he had something different, a connection with the gods themselves and because of that they let him live. But in that winter morning that connection was the cause of his doom. While he was playing with the puppies that were his main companion the men from the village came and took him away.

The journey took a few minutes and the entire time he felt his father's hand guiding him. At times he seemed to tremble, but Ulf knew that must have been a figment of his imagination. When they finally stopped he heard his father comment.

"So much blood spilled because of this place and now this."

"They are tireless and in much greater numbers than us, Njal, and they know this land like no one else. If we want to survive we will need the help of the gods, otherwise we won't make it to summer."

"I know Gorm and I'm here, aren't I? About to sacrifice what is most precious to me, Thyra hasn't conceived again in all the years since Ulf was born."

"Then ask the father of all that this blessing be granted to you and your wife. But don't try to stop what will happen. He always belonged to the gods and Odin himself came to me in a dream asking for the boy."

"I know, so let's get this over with. Ulf, boy I need you to be brave like a warrior should be. Soon you will meet with the father of the world and I need you to ask him to intercede, to help us give what is necessary to survive on this earth. Until then I need you to lie still." - Said his father, placing him on a hard surface. Where he lay waiting as he was ordered until he felt a searing pain in his chest and felt the life drain away along with the blood coming from the wound.

When the boy thought it was all over he heard a strong and serious voice as one would expect from a king.

"Open your eyes boy."

He opened his eyes and for the first time he actually saw and before him was the father of all, Odin himself smiling at him and he was also blind in one eye. On each of his shoulders was a crow perched.

"Very good Ulf, you behaved like a true warrior. Now your real work begins.

....

The situation at Hartfield Manor could be described as weird if one weren't making a huge understatement. Jaime and Leonardo had woken up and it was up to Mike Jones to deal with it while Chad made desperate phone calls to his father, Carmichael and the other Crows. Sanchez's transformation seemed to confirm that the work was done, but what had happened to Reis put everything in doubt. The fact that they acted as if nothing had happened and had always been that way should put an end to that doubt, but how could they be sure? Until Chad talked to his father and Carmichael they couldn't be sure and Mike knew that as he stared at what should be the final version of Jaime Sanchez, the seal of their contract. And that he spoke to him as if they were friends. He knew that this was how it should be, but then why didn't he feel it?

"... with you and Chad in basketball, Eddie on the mats and if the twins accept to join you will also have two talents in football. I think the Crows have a great chance in the competition between the clubs. And if you accept him, Leo has a great talent in soccer, although his size may not seem like it. In Brazil they called him Hulk, which is also the nickname of a famous player there. I feel useless for not having anything exceptional to contribute. Unless my latino sex appeal counts for something. - Said Jaime smiling.

"Get real Jay. You look like a pimp selling us." - Interrupted Leonardo Reis.

"Well, the Crows value ambition, don't they? And Carmichael himself said we could apply to join."

"The decision of who enters or not is made together Jaime, but the final approval depends on the president." - Still uncomfortable with the situation.

"So I'm going to have to suck up to Chad? Nothing new under the sun for him. By the way, where is he?"

Chad was at that moment sitting on the balcony of the second floor of the family mansion, on a call with his father. The same feeling of uneasy that Mike felt dominated him.

"Dad, with the others it seemed right, we fit in well. Just the way you said it would be. Sanchez however... It's just that he looks and behaves the way he should be, but there's something that bothers me. And there's still the question of Reis.... What do you mean? And why couldn't I have known this before? ... I understand, but it would have saved me a lot of anguish. But what should we do now? .... Yes, maybe when he formally entering the club we will feel as we should. Until then I will do as you say and try to get to know him better and see if we fit in. At the same time I will look for anomalies. I will also talk to Carmichael in person.... Yes, I'll keep you informed. I'm going to hang up now, the other guys are arriving... thank you dad, it's very important for me to know that you're proud of me. - Chad said, finishing the call and observing the four others arrive in Eddie's car. If their integration with the twins was also strange, he would have a problem that he might not know how to solve.

….

They were dead, all of them. His father's children's children had perished and the colony was no more. Over the past few decades Ulf had learned to channel the power of the father of all into those who came to him, boys becoming warriors under their combined power. But what was a source of hope for his people in that land became a source of fear for the natives. The gigantic and brutal warriors born there were feared and hated with such intensity that a union between the different nations was made with the sole objective of eradicating them. Ulf used all the power that he was born with and that he had received through the countless sacrifices made in the name of the father of all through him and it was still insufficient. The losses for the natives were massive, but Ulf's people were completely decimated. They spared only the small children and took them out of his reach.

The God also left, without worshipers he would not survive in that place, but Ulf was trapped there, he was born there, he died there and was reborn there. His destiny was linked to that land and so was he. The father of all left leaving two little crows as company for the companion who had helped him so much. And so Ulf waited, years became decades, decades became centuries and legends about the place spread among the local population. He was already in a state of dormancy when fate smiled at him again. And smiling was what he did.

….

"I propose a little drinking game to see if you have what it takes to take become members. - Eddie said smiling to Leonardo and Jaime.

"So these are the high standards required to join the Crow Club? To be able to drink as much as the old members?" - Jaime replied.

"I wouldn't say just that, but we can discuss some other tests later. Alone." - J.B. replied, eating Jaime with his eyes.

"Be careful Sanchez. Roberts is insatiable.- Commented Jacob Miller. - I have experience and I can confirm."

"If I were you, I wouldn't doubt my boy Jay's capabilities." - Leonardo replied smiling.

"Okay, another thing. We have three Jays around here and this isn't going to work, we need to get organized." - Commented J.B. - I'm J.B. and I was the first to arrive so I'm not going to change."

"I'd really like to know why you have that nickname, Roberts." - Said Leonardo.

"It's a diminutive of Johnny Boy, Eddie started calling him that and we ended up adopting it." - Chad replied next to Mike.

"Well, then if that's a nickname of a nickname maybe he should change it." - Leo replied.

"Fortunately I arrived earlier and have primacy, while Jaime here hasn't even joined the club yet." - J.B. responded with a smirk.

"Hey, I didn't even say anything. Stop picking on J.B. Leo." - Jaime intervened.

"You can call me Jake and that's fine." - Said Jake Miller

"Leonardo is easy, we just call him Leo. Which brings us back to you Jaime. We can't have someone without a nickname between brothers." - J.B. continued, being interrupted again by Leo.

"I didn't say you could call me Leo."

"Dude, stop teasing, that's already your fucking nickname, come on!" Jaime intervened again before addressing J.B. - So, any suggestions?"

"Jaime Sanches... J.S. no, it doesn't sound..."

"That's not his full name. - Chad commented while sipping his bourbon, the arrogant expression back on his face. - Our dear colleague is Jaime Caetano Sanchez."

"So we're talking about a J.C. - said Greg, sitting side by side with Jake"

"Better than J.S. but there's still something missing." - replied J.B.

"J.C. um... how about Jace?" Jake said thoughtfully. "I can already imagine the repercussion of the posts. Jace and Jake. The contrast between the skin tones will draw a lot of attention. Apart from the fact that we're both hot." "

"If that's what you're looking for, Jake, maybe Mike would be a better option. But hey, Jace is a good nickname." - J.B. replied.

"Ah, don't worry, he won't escape, in fact none of you will. You are all an excellent source of followers." - Jake said smiling and making all the Crows look in Jaime's direction at the mention of the word source. But he didn't show any reaction to that.

"Well, if you want me to be Jace, so be it. So how is this game going to work?"

"That's easy, we ask, you answer, everyone drinks." - Eddie replied.

"What's the point of that if everyone's going to drink?" - Leo asked.

"Exactly." - Eddie replied, smiling and filling several glasses of tequila.

….

Ulf watched the two native boys approach his territory. The clearing had shrunk a lot over the years, nothing was left of the old village except some broken utensils long forgotten. It was precisely the boys messing with the rusty trinkets that had once belonged to Ulf's people that woke him up. He approached the edge of his territory and waited for the boys to approach.

"Kitchi, we shouldn't go further, it's dangerous. The elders..."

"I had no idea you were a coward Keme."

"I'm not a coward! Take it back brother!"

"I'll take it back if you accompany me to the clearing and prove me wrong."

"Fine, but if the elders find out we did this..."

"They'll only know if you talk. Let's go"

Ulf followed the interaction between the brothers with interest. They didn't speak his language but that wouldn't be a problem. He waited until the boys were in the middle of his clearing before appearing.

"Hello, I'm Ulf" - He said smiling and scaring the two boys who immediately got into a fighting position.

"Get away from us evil spirit." - Said the one called Keme. While his brother Kitchi relaxed.

"Brother is just a little boy, one of the invaders."

"He's too far from the cities to be one of them."

Invaders? And cities? Had his people returned? If that were the case, the God could have returned with them and Ulf would no longer be alone.

"I'm not going to hurt you, I've been alone for a long time. I just want to talk. Tell me about these invaders."

"Get away. We shouldn't have come here. Let's go Kitchi. - Keme said pulling his brother. Ulf could have stopped them, in that place his power was absolute although it was a pale shadow of what it once was. But he noticed something about that one called Kitchi, there was the same kind of power in him that Ulf himself had possessed before the God. And the boy had felt that connection between them. So Ulf let them go knowing that the one he was interested in would return.

There was no need to wait long. Within a few days, barely a blink of an eye for Ulf, the boy was back.

"What are you?" - He asked from the edge of the clearing.

"Come here and I'll tell you."

"I'm not stupid if I go in there you'll kill me or worse."

"If so, why didn't I do it when I had the chance?"

"I don't know, but I don't trust what you say."

"It's okay to stay where you are, I won't force you to come in. One day you'll choose to come in on your own."

"I will never do that, spirit"

"We'll see" - Ulf replied smiling as if he were the most innocent being in the world.

….

"Sexual orientation?" - J.B. asked, holding the glass of tequila in his hand.

"Straight." - Leo replied.

"Boring as expected, Reis." - Replied J.B.

"Open to experimentation." - Jaime replied with a smile.

"That's what I'm talking about! Drink!" - shouted J.B. happily before chugging the entire shot in his mouth, followed by the rest of the boys. The question game combined with alcohol had helped them all to integrate, there were still fights here and there, but that was expected given the fact that they were not clones of each other and each should have their own personality. Almost all of the Crows seemed to have accepted that Jaime, or rather Jace, was fully integrated and that Leo had come to them as a bonus. But both Mike and Chad, who were in fact the most similar among them, still didn't completely accept that as true.

"Favorite sexual position?" - Greg asked. But before the colleagues could respond, Chad interrupted them.

"Put your glasses away and try to keep a slightly convincing face, gentlemen, we have visitors. Carmichael is coming here."

"Why would the headmaster come to your private home Chad?" - Leonardo asked.

"Because you idiots made such a fuss that the neighbors complained to him."

"You speak as if you haven't done the same."

"I beg your pardon. Chad Hartfield would never do something unworthy like a fuss. - Jaime said in a mocking tone. Making everyone, even Mike, burst out laughing.

"I'm serious, glasses in the kitchen now. - Chad scolded, but without being able to completely hide a smile as he watched with satisfaction that bunch of gigantic grown men carry out his orders, with a feeling that it was too good to be true. And that was precisely the problem, that uneasy feeling didn't go away.

"Either he really is one of us or he is a great manipulator which in a way makes him one of us." Mike commented next to him.

"I asked Carmichael to observe him. He is the alive person with the most experience on the subject. But I agree with you, I saw my father with his group my whole life. Or at least I have memories of it. - Chad corrected himself before saying continue - And the truth is that when they are together it's like watching a machine in action, the gears fitting together perfectly. It seems like one knows what the other is going to say or do before the other has even finished thinking about it. That's the kind of thing I expected here. The morning was amazing and I liked them both, we needed someone to slow down J.B. when necessary and Leo does that perfectly and as for Jaime, I mean Jace, he's the most similar to you and me out of everyone, It's like he's a third part that we're missing, Mike, and we don't even know it. I really want to believe him. But there's still something forced, don't you feel that too? I can't even call him by his nickname without feeling my tongue curl as if I wasn't saying something true.

"I know man, I have the same feeling, I want it to be true I feel like it should be true but at the same time it's not... let's wait for Carmichael and see if he sheds any light."

While the two were having that conversation, two others were talking in the backyard of the house in whispers so that they would not be heard by anyone inside.

"You think they suspect something, man?"

"Despite all the bro talk they are tremendously intelligent Leo, I believe we did a good job and that they should at least be willing to believe in us. And that will have to be enough."

"What a mess you've gotten me into, Sanchez."

"I didn't mean to, Leo. But I won't lie and say I'm not grateful to have an ally."

"So what do we do now?"

"We'll wait until we get back to Dalton. You'll have to find a way to get rid of his bones. I'm sure they're behind that red door in their headquarters."

"And you?"

"I'll take the hardest part. Find a way to get us there."

….

Kitchi was waiting for him at the edge of the clearing, always avoiding putting himself within range of Ulf's power. But it had been a long time since the boy who wasn't a boy decided he wouldn't do anything to the boy. Because he had learned to like the other boy. He was brave and fierce in the way Ulf had been taught by his people and his God to admire. And through him Ulf discovered what was happening in the world outside his clearing. That was how he discovered that the invaders Kitchi had spoken of the day they met were not Ulf's people or if they were they were very changed, they did not have the same gods or the same customs and did not seek the glory of death in battle. Strange as it was, Ulf had learned to respect and like a member of the people who had decimated his own people and made the God leave. Also he hated to think that these new invaders with their strange customs could be what his people across the sea had become.

"What news do you bring from the world beyond brave warrior?" - He asked smiling. But without getting a smile in response.

"I came to say goodbye Ulf. My people go to war against the invaders. They never found out that I came here. I broke traditions for too long and even though I see that they are mistaken about you now I am a man and I don't I can act like a boy anymore. Goodbye, spirit."

"Kitchi wait..." - But the boy didn't listen to him and left while Ulf resigned himself to returning to the helpless existence he had known over the past few centuries as he had known would happen someday, but had hoped it would not be so soon. Kitchi's few occasional visits had been a relief from the centuries of solitude. So much so that when he felt the boy approach his domain after just a few days he felt a sense of relief that in his entire long existence he had not known he would be capable of feeling.

"I thought you wouldn't see me again, great warrior." - He spoke in a mocking tone towards the approaching figure. Only to have another surprise. Kitchi crawled towards him, injured in so many places that he didn't know how the boy had survived. - Boy, come to me, let's go. You can do it, just a little longer. - He said encouraging the boy, who little by little crawled towards him, only to fall to the ground a short distance from his territory. And when everything seemed lost, contact was made when the boy managed to enter into the clearing. And Ulf set to work, using what little power he hadto heal the boy until he could speak again.

"They're dead Ulf, all of them, my father, my brother... there's nothing left, there's no one left."

Ulf felt it as if he were experiencing the death of his own people again. Which was curious since it was the people of Kitchi who had caused that to them, not that the boy had any responsibility for what happened.

"I want…. I need..."

"What?" - Ulf asked, knowing exactly what the request would be.

"Give me. Your blessing. The one you gave to the warriors of your people."

"What good would it do you now, if your people no longer exist?"

"It's good for me to take as many of them as I can, it's good for me to be reunited with my people knowing I did what I could to bring them justice."

"I can do what you ask of me but the source will be you, and you will be different, more like the men of my people than yours. You will become what your ancestors gave their lives for detain. It may be that when your time comes you will not have a place among them."

"I don't care. The men who killed my ancestors are dead, the men who decimated my family are still breathing and I want to be the one to take their last breath."

"I can't deny you that, it's my mission, the reason for my existence. But I'm going to miss who you are."

"Just do it, spirit!"

And Ulf did. Between the screams of pain and despair he felt the boy he knew change before him. Ferocity exacerbated to the limit of cruelty, cleverness becoming malice, a mind modified with a sole purpose of revenge and decimation and a perfect body for that. Gigantic arms ending in hands powerful enough to crush skulls. A massive torso capable of withstanding the most powerful blows and legs strong enough to carry all of that.

It was done and Ulf for the first time since he had been given that fate was unhappy about doing the work assigned to him. The monster in the form of a man that he had created turned his back on him without even saying a word and he did nothing to stop him even though he knew the fate that awaited him, just as he knew his own fate. He was destined to fade into oblivion or continue to create monsters like that. For the first time in all those centuries, oblivion seemed to be the best option.

…

"I can't answer you. Both he and Reis seem quite integrated to me, but the whole situation is atypical. The contract that your father made... well, what's done is done. Who knows, maybe things will work out after the initiation ceremony, with the old members here in Dalton." - Carmichael said to Chad in front of the entrance porch of Hartfield Manor.

"I thought the ceremony was just symbolic, that the act of acceptance and the transformation itself were what validated the contract."

"Usually yes, but as I told you, everything about this particular contract is unusual. You ended up with one more member than expected. Two in fact, if you count the fact that Gregory Miller was a side effect. Extremely unusual . I don't even know how to explain what happened to Reis. And unless Dalton himself does it..."

"So what should I do?"

"Keep an eye on him, on both of them. Maybe they'll reveal themselves if they're pretending or maybe Dalton himself has some more surprises in store for us. Now let's all go back to school and wait." - Director Carmichael concluded as he headed to his car, leaving behind a thoughtful Chad.

...

"Knock, Knock" - J.B. said in a jovial and cheerful voice at the door of Jaime's bedroom.

Jaime himself, upon hearing that, smiled. He had managed to get rid of Greg so he could have the place to himself and his target. Practically naked with his muscular, tanned body on display and a bright smile on his face, he opened the door.

"Jace, you pervert trying to seduce me?" said J.B., admiring him with hungry eyes.

"Please, as if you need convincing to do anything." - Jaime replied with a smile, slowly approaching his colleague's face, until their lips were about to touch.

"Sanchez you are playing with fire."

"I'm not afraid of getting burned." - He replied, grabbing J.B. while giving him an intense kiss and dragging him to the bed.

"Jace you rascal, hiding the game all the time." - J.B. said breathlessly as Jaime took off his shirt.

"And I thought I had left obvious signs in response to your advances." -Jaime replied as he kissed J.B.'s neck and powerful chest.

"We're going to need to talk about what you consider to be obvious."

"I don't think so, I won't be able to answer anything for now." - Jaime said, approaching his colleague's now fully erect member and engulfing it with his mouth.

....

Leonardo was pissed about the whole situation. He had tried to adapt to that place, he had chosen to ignore his more aggressive instincts towards that country, controlling his bad temper and for what? To become a pawn in a damned game of manipulation controlled by the spirit of an old megalomaniac capitalist.

He almost pissed his pants off in that vision. The damned crows seemed to have flown towards his face and after what he saw happen to Dalton's eye he threw himself to the ground like a scared boy.

"Get up Leo, we have little time and I don't know what I'll be like when I wake up, I'll need you to be my anchor and I don't even know how to do that right." - Jaime said while extending his hand to him.

"I don't want any part of this." - He responded without extending his hand back.

"I didn't want to either, but unfortunately we're stuck with this. All of us. Help me find a way to end this once and for all." - And Leo extended his hand.

When he woke up he was completely changed physically and he felt that something had changed in his mind too. But he still knew who he was and what he would have to do.

However, he was amazed at how far Jaime was willing to go to get what he wanted. And now in Dalton's basement, as he looked for a way to get rid of the old man's damned bones, he wondered if his colleague hadn't already gone too far on the path to becoming one of them. That train of thought was interrupted when he found what he was looking for.

"Perfect" - He said, looking at the gallon of kerosene with shining eyes. Without realizing that perhaps he already had walked a few steps along that same path.

....

"Turn your back." - Jaime said to J.B. with a commanding tone after giving him one of the best blow jobs he had ever received. Which made him obey immediately. - So, Johny Boy, I was thinking. What do I need to do for me to be formally accepted into your Club? Greg and Jake were accepted immediately while I'm still pending- Asked as he positioned himself on top of the other.

"I don't know, I thought Chad was going to announce it at Hartfield Manor..."

"I thought I was important.-Jaime said, now holding J.B.'s hair tightly.-That I was special.-He continued with a kiss on his colleague's neck.-Even irreplaceable." - He concludes by placing his swollen cock close to J.B.'s ass but without making any effort to continue.

"Jace...I don't know...ungh."

"Don't you know or don't want to tell me?"

"I don't know if I knew...."

"I believe in you. - Jaime replied, gently penetrating his classmate ass. - But there is something you know and can tell me." -He continued while increase his pace.

"Ungh...no...don't stop. What? What do you want to know?" - J.B. asked amidst waves of pleasure. Causing Jaime to increase his pace even more and open a wide smile.

…

For 150 years Ulf remained silent, ruminating on his own existence, determined to ward off any man who approached him. He knew he couldn't deny it if someone entered his territory and asked for his blessing and even though the probability of that happening was very small after what happened to Kitchi, he took precautions. The forest area around his clearing became surrounded by wild and cruel creatures. And quickly the legends about the cursed place spread among the few remaining natives and also among the invaders. But that introspective calm didn't last as long as last time. One spring morning many men approached his territory and set to work. Just like Ulf himself. Quickly the entire region was filled with wild animals. Crows attacked men while they were working. Wolves howled at night, scaring the pack animals and making them flee, bears invaded the camp and destroyed the food. And yet they continued to work.

An iron will drove that men, an unstoppable force of the kind that Ulf would have admired if it hadn't been bringing those men closer every day to his territory and to the possibility of him being forced to resume the role he wanted to avoid at all costs. And despite everything he did that day came. He watched the men approach his clearing, some armed to the ground shooting at the animals he sent, others cutting down the little brush that still separated his clearing from the new road they had opened and then... Ulf felt his territory. suddenly increase, regaining almost all of its original size. The place where his village had been now housed the beginning of a large construction and beyond that there was already a small village in formation.

He did not introduce himself to those men, resisting with all his might the impulse to do so. He held out until night and then brought hell upon them.

The next day the men left, leaving behind them the unfinished construction, dead animals and some of them buried. Ulf watched this with relief, believing that he could once again return to his state of contemplation.

For weeks it seemed to him that it would be so. Then one night the man arrived.

….

"What the hell are you carrying around there?"

"The solution you asked me for."

"Man, we could burn down the whole school if we use this."

"I don't plan on using it here, dumbass. We go in, take the damn bones, put them in these backpacks I brought and take them to the middle of the woods where we can set them on fire."

"A forest fire isn't much better than a school fire."

"I haven't seen you do anything useful so far."

"Then see." - Jaime replied. He approached the digital panel next to the large door of the Crows headquarters and entered the password as he spoke it out loud.

"0 - one - nineteen - eighteen - 0 - nine. Edgar Allan Poe's birthday, it was kind of obvious if you stopped to think about it. It would only be more obvious if it were Dalton Hartfield's birthday."

"If it was that obvious you wouldn't have needed to suck Roberts' dick."

"Shut up, asshole. We're inside, now we just have to go to the damn red door and..." - Jaime began to say, interrupting himself when looking at a solid wall without a single door.

" Puta merda" - Said Leo when faced with that.

"I don't understand, everything pointed here." - Jaime said, running his hand over the exquisite wallpaper in the hope of feeling a hidden door behind it.

"We're fucked man. Why did you have to drag me into this shit?"

"I didn't ask for this either man. I just wanted this shit to end."

"Good, we can still finish." - Reis replied, lifting the gallon of kerosene.

"Are you crazy, dude? This could turn into a huge mess."

"You said yourself that you want to end it all."

"But not like this. Let it go, no one is going to burn this school down." - Jaime said, making Leo release the gallon.

"Certainly not. - Chad said standing at the door - You almost fooled me Jaime. But your mistake was believing that just because he's a slut J.B. would be stupid. He's a Crow and a Crow is always smart. Which proves you're still not one of us. I knew there was something wrong with you two.”

"Fuck you, you psychopath" - Was Leo's response. While Jaime pondered what to do.Then cursing himself for choosing that path he made a decision.

"You're right. I'm sorry for using him like that although he certainly liked it. But the truth is that Reis came to me thinking I could help him and at the same time I felt like you still didn't trust me Chad. So I came up with a plan to find out what Reis intended to do and at the same time gain your trust."

"You fucking piece of shit. What do you think you're doing? I trusted you!" - Leonardo shouted, lifting the gallon again.

"I already told you to turn that shit down!" - Jaime shouted back and again his colleague obeyed him. Something Chad can't help but notice.

"If what you say is true Jaime, why don't you prove it!"

"Call me Jace, man - Jaime said in an attempt to convey confidence - and what do you want me to do? How am I going to convince you?"

"Nothing you say will make me trust you... Jaime. - Chad replied, highlighting the name. - But you can prove it by making our dear colleague one of us."

"I... I don't know how..." - Jaime began to respond.

"Fuck you, Chad. I'm going to get out of here..." - Leonardo interrupted.

"Tell him to be quiet" - Chad said.

"Leo, shut up and stay still." - Jaime said and to his surprise and that of Leonardo himself, he remained motionless and quiet in the middle of the room."

"As I suspected. Looks like you'll get the chance to prove yourself after all...Jace." - Chad said with a bright smile. And while mentally apologizing, promising to fix it when he could, Jaime turned towards Leonardo and instinctively began to do the work assigned to him."

….

Ulf watched as the man approached and sat on a rock right in the middle of his center of power. The man reminded him of the God. He was old in appearance although he was infinitely younger. But the aura of power and the absolute certainty of deserving that power were the same. Very different from what Ulf himself felt, forever trapped in that contradictory state between a child and a centenarian being. He was already ready to try to scare away that figure when the man spoke.

"I know you're there, I feel you there. I came to talk and come to an understanding." - And then Ulf realized that the man just like Kitchi and Ulf himself had the power within him. The man's light was weak, blurry and Ulf realized he wouldn't have much time on this plane. But also that that light should have been as bright as Ulf's own had once been. That made him consider listening to what the man had to say. But what made him lower his guard was the fact that one of his crows flew and landed next to the man and he didn't even flinch.

"Hello. I'm Ulf" - he said, becoming visible to the man.

"Hello, Ulf. I'm Dalton. I think we have a lot to talk about." - Dalton Hartfield replied to the boy who wasn't a boy. For several hours they talked. At dawn both had a new understanding of various things and an agreement was made. And for the first time in decades Ulf was happy with his purpose.

….

"What's the purpose of all this hate, Leo? All this poorly disguised anger. Because no matter how much you try to hide it, they're there. What did we do that was so bad to you?" - Jaime asked his colleague, now sitting and staring at him with vacant, distant eyes. - You can talk."

"Where to start? Maybe it's because I'm trapped in a place full of psychopathic troglodytes guided by an evil spirit who intends to turn me into one of them? Or maybe because someone I thought I could trust turned out to be exactly like them? "

"He has a good point. - Jaime said to Chad, still trying to make the other trust him. - But it's not just that, you hate America. You hate our country but you're still here enjoying our blessings." - Jaime continued, not believing he was saying something like that.

"I had no choice in being here and I don't hate America. The entire continent is..."

"Cut that leftist bullshit. You're in America now, in real America. Where the real football is played, the real land of opportunity and you know what else I think you know it and resent it, don't you? That's where all this anger comes from." - Jaime continued, at the same time hating and feeling a perverse pleasure in those words.

"No... no... it's not true. I love my country."

"No one said otherwise, Leo. After all, you are a typical Brazilian. A happy, funny guy, concerned with enjoying life and a bit of a rogue when needed."

"These are stereotypes man... the worst... about Brazil"

"Liking soccer is also a stereotype and you like it."

"It's different, not every Brazilian likes football. And it's not just because it's a stereotype that I need to stop liking it."

"Exactly! Just because it's a stereotype doesn't mean it isn't true, does it, Leo? Which makes what I said about you true."

"No... I... I'm not a playful kind of guy... I'm not a clown... I have goals."

"Of course you do, you're in Dalton and to be in Dalton you have to be ambitious. You can't wait to get your hands on your grandfather's fortune."

"I never... needed it."

"Which doesn't mean you don't want to. Imagine everything you'll be able to do with all that money, make the most of the countries you love so much, the one in which you were born and the one that welcomed you and that you chose for yourself ."

"I... no...."

"Let the anger go and call it only against your enemies, America is your second home, the home you chose and we are your brothers, the ones you chose when you agreed to come to Dalton and we chose you, you are not a clown, you are our priest, you are the one who makes us smile when we need it and you are the one who controls J.B. because he is the only one who can make you impatient even though he wants to enjoy life as much as you do, and because all of this your place is among us so accept it." - Jaime concluded, almost believing his own words at the same time that Leonardo tried to avoid getting carried away by them, with his hands covering his face. And Chad looked at them both in amazement. The seconds seemed to drag by until Leo uncovered his face. And there was a combination of joy, malice and arrogance in him. There was no doubt. He was one of Dalton's Crows.

That realization opened a hole in Jaime's chest. He had done that, he had plotted and deceived and manipulated and finally done that. He could justify all he wanted, he could say he dit it just to gain Chad's trust and thus be able to figure out how to reverse it all. ...but it still didn't change the fact that he had done it. And Chad seemed to think the same way.

"I was wrong, you are one of us. Only one of us could do this. Welcome brothers." - He said smiling with what seemed like genuine joy combined with a great deal of relief. Jaime had thought about denying it, about throwing everything away, about punching that face until that bright smile was erased. - "Thanks, bro" - He heard Leo say next to him with a voice that was both arrogant and happy at the same time that made the feeling of nausea he felt increase. He turned around thinking about what he was going to do... but before he could decide what it was he found himself staring at the same wall where he had unsuccessfully tried to locate a hidden door minutes before, a red door that had appeared to him in dreams, that had tormented him for days without revealing what was behind it, a red door that didn't exist but was still there right in front of him. He stepped towards hearing Chad and Leo calling for him but ignoring them. With his hand shaking with anxiety he turned the handle, opened the door and physically walked through it for the first time.

….

The door that existed only when Ulf allowed it opened and the one he expected to see entered. He assumed the form the man expected to see and addressed him.

"Chadwick Wentworth Hartfield the third, what brings you here?" - He asked, knowing exactly what brought the descendant of his old friend there. The old friend whose image he used at that moment in a replica of the room he had planned and never got to occupy in the Academy that bore his name.

"Hello, sir. I... I come with an offer to make to you.

"Proceed."

"There's a kid in California, Jaime Sanchez, one of my scouts found him and..."

"I'm aware of the kid, Trip, your scouts are my scouts after all."

"Sir, I didn't mean to..."

"Calm down, you gave them the necessary resources to reach the boy. And I recognize that. So answer my question, what brings you here?"

"It's my son, he is... a disappointment, sir. Unworthy of your legacy. I failed... I failed the Academy, I failed you, and I failed him."

"I understand. But you still haven't answered my question, what brings you here?"

"I need you to do your thing with him."

"I see, that's all? Sanchez is extremely promising and you found him for me."

"Well, if you can ensure that the Hartfield legacy continues without major obstacles, it is your legacy as well and the one that helps ensure Dalton's survival."

"So you want a contract? Is that it?"

"If possible."

"Yes, it is possible. Both requests are. But it will not be easy. The blessing in its pure form, without the help of a source is a different experience from what you are used to seeing. But it will be necessary, your son should be the one who will guide the contract and in his current form he is totally inadequate. After that the steps must be followed specifically. I will give you a list of names of boys who should be brought to Dalton, boys who in the future will be a source of problems for the Hartfields and other people of interest to the perpetuation of the academy. Your son must be informed of what to do with all of them with the exception of one. He must not know that the last one came with the same objective as the others, find someone to be the sponsor in your place, not even Carmichael must know that he is a party to the contract until we are close to completion. When they and the source are under the roof of the academy things will have only one direction to go. Now Seek your son and prepare yourself, you You won't be pleased with what you see."

"Yes sir." - Chadwick Hartfield III responded respectfully, leaving and closing the door behind him.

Ulf waited in anticipation. It had been a long time since he had used his original method of working, after Kitch and before Dalton the prospect of doing so would have saddened him. But in just over a century and a half he had learned much more than in the entire previous millennium. And knowing that made him smile when he saw the door open.

...

The door opened and Jaime entered.

"You have got to be kidding." - He said when he saw where he was. For he was in the old familiar office of the Dalton headmaster.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't resist." - Someone said but he wasn't who he expected. - I'm Ulf and I think I owe you an explanation. - Said a blond boy smiling.

"I don't understand..." Replied Jaime.

"Let me help you." - Said the boy. And suddenly Jaime found himself standing in a snow-covered village where a blind blond boy was playing with puppies.

…

"I must say that you are the first since Dalton himself to know my whole story Jaime. Pitty."

"Why?" - Jaime asked.

"Why don't we clarify your doubts? I imagine you have many." - Ulf replied with a smile that Jaime had already seen mirrored on many of those who frequented Dalton.

"So this whole time it was you? The dreams, the visions? My grandmother... I thought... And the bones?

"Oh, where do I start?" Your grandmother. An unforeseen event, something rare in my plans. And what a formidable woman she is! It is very difficult to make the journey back to this plane. And she did it quite easily twice. But she couldn't be a match for me, not here in my territory. I had a conversation with her and she agreed to leave when she understood that there was nothing she could do against me. But she was not as upset as one might think because she understood that I like her want the best for you." - Said the boy with a friendly smile.

“Is she allright?”

Yes Jaime, there’s nothing she could offer me that you couldn't either. I released her. Which brings us to the visions. Each source manifests his power in a different way, since Trip Hartfield's scouts found you I have longed for know what yours would be. Many of my current skills came from the different sources that attended Dalton. The choice of your club mates came through the ability to look into the future that I inherited from one of those sources. But I will talk about that later. When It was clear that you were a dream walker I used that to guide you in the direction I wanted and I admit I had a lot of fun in the process. The physical limits to which I am restricted do not allow me to know the world with my own eyes. But Dalton gave me ways to interact with different people from different cultures and expanded my horizons. Plus I'm proud of our library, the books took me to places I could never physically go. I like spending my time there among them. And we had some interesting conversations there."

"I…did we?"

"I'm very proud of my impersonation of a grumpy old lady."

"The librarian? Mrs O'Malley? Was that you???

"One of my multiple personifications within these walls. I like interacting with the boys under my tutelage. But as I told you Mrs.O'Malley it's the personification that I'm most proud of and that allows me to spend my time with the books. I'm particularly interested in Mr. King's work. I don't know how he managed to escape Dalton when he lived so close to me. But it takes one to recognize the other. And his work on The Shining made me to think that he was always aware to some degree of what we were doing here. It's a shame indeed that he managed to escape me. I wonder what I could have done to someone like him. But in a way I'm not sad, I don't know if there would have been much left of his light or shining as he called it, if he had come to me and me. Then I wouldn't have his wonderfull works to help me kill time. And he was useful for my plans, he helped me put you on the path of The Crows Club.” - Ulf said, pausing and looking at Jaime, waiting for any doubts. When the boy didn't speak, he resumed his long monologue.

“Which brings us to your third question. The bones. Dalton was a genius and a true warrior of his time. He showed me that there was another ways to perform my role. That times were different and that I could create another type of warrior. A new kind of warrior for a new time and since then I have been adapting to the times and looking for new ways to expand my influence and share my blessing. And it was Dalton Hartfield who made me realize that what I do is indeed a blessing. And also who gave me the means to ensure that it reaches every corner of this country. His bones were crushed until they turned into powder and were mixed into the very mortar that built the walls of this institution. Which is the Destiny that part of the bones of every Academy student shared after the end of their passage through this plane. The other part of the bones of these former students is buried in their respective home states. I can't leave my territory, Jaime, as you yourself testified. But everyone who steps on it is subject to my influence and those who receive my blessing receive a part of me. A part that remains in the soul, but also in the body, in the bones. And it is these bones with my essence, buried in every corner of this country that guarantee my influence no matter the distance from my center of power. Every time one of our recruiters goes to visit a prospect, he takes with him a piece of Dalton on his body, a ring, a pendant. Made from the bones of deceased former students, some of these objects are so old that they were made from the bones of Dalton himself. Bone magic Jaime. Something that my own people did and that a source from Scandinavia brought to me about a century ago. And so I answered your questions. But let me get ahead of you. You're curious as to why I chose each of the others.”

Jaime was actually more concerned about reversing that situation. He had done things that he never thought he would be able to do with that single goal and now he saw no alternative to completing it. Then he let the apparition continue with his speech. - "Of course"- He replied thinking that at least he would buy some time to try to escape that trap he had found himself in.

"Liar - the boy replied without letting his smile waver - But I'm indulging myself so you'll have to put up with it. Michael Jones would become a public prosecutor who, together with the workers' union leader Jacob Miller would launch an investigation into one of the main arms of the Hartfield conglomerate after the death of Miller's twin brother in one of the Hartfield's slaughterhouses . A completely accidental death due to the drunken state of Gregory Miller, a notorious drunk stuck in his glory days as a college football player who had a career interrupted by an injury. The Hartfield Company would win the case but at the expense of a lot of money. Money that would already be compromised because Edward Chang,whom after inheriting his father's restaurant empire would transform them into a vegan chain, thus cutting one of Hartfiled Company's main contracts. To make matters worse the ore export contract for the steel industry another of the Hartfields' main sources of income would be suspended when Leonardo Reis, a staunch Brazilian nationalist, took control of his grandfather's mining company and decided to strengthen the Brazilian national industry. Crowning the disaster, Senator Jonathan Roberts managed to approve a new law increasing taxes on large fortunes. All of this being published in the country's biggest newspapers, including a particularly incisive article written by the famous political journalist Jaime Sanchez. The Hartfields are one of Dalton's biggest sources of funding, this could never happen and thanks to the good work done by both of us, Jaime it won't. Thanks."

"I didn't help you, not willingly!"

"Jaime, you chose to leave the twins under the influence of the Crows. You seduced Roberts to gain access to the club headquarters. You used, abandoned and remade Reis in Dalton's image just to achieve your goal without knowing that in doing so you achieved mine. You are mine Jaime Sanchez. And you gave me the chance to have my men in the place where the greatest dynasties in the world were born and died with secrets that could be useful to me, in the place that houses the largest unexplored area in the world, I found myself excited just thinking about what the Amazon has to offer me. You gave me an unexplored past through Chang and Reis, and promising future through the Millers. With them you gave me the opportunity to extend Dalton's ideas to millions through the screen of a cell phone. "

"I... I didn't mean..."

"Of course you wanted Jaime. You are a Crow. You accepted being the moment you sought out others of your own free will and thus sealed the contract, what came after were only the consequences.Everything happened as planned as always happens. As the board predicts. The board never makes mistakes Jaime, because I am the board. Our time It's ending. The last part of my blessing will fall on you. And as I said, it's a pitty. To be fully integrated with your brothers, you'll forget. Forget what you saw here. Forget me. You'll just know that Dalton changed you and that you are grateful for that. If it serves as compensation, know that your work is not finished yet. The old sources become my main scouts, using what is left of their light to locate other potential sources and continue with the good work. And This ends our conversation Jaime." - The boy concluded and Jaime realized that it was indeed true, that he had no escape.

"Before I go I would like to ask one more question."

"I think you've earned that right."

"Why do you do this? Those men killed you and forced you to act like this, why continue?"

"Eternity is too heavy a burden to bear without a role, boy. For a while I hated what I did as you saw for yourself. But then Dalton gave me the chance to do what I was created to do in a way that I didn't hate it. And at the same time gave me the opportunity to grow in a way that was denied to me by my own people. Although they taught me something that continues to be real to this day. This world needs warriors, leaders, the alphas of the pack. And I provide these leaders without prejudice of race, origin or sexuality. And that is why I will continue." - Understanding that the final moment had arrived, Jaime asked one last question.

"I never had a chance, did I?"

"Jaime, this is your chance. Goodbye, You have my blessing. - Jaime closed his eyes one last time. - It's time for Jace to wake up."

….

It was graduation day. Chad had been the valedictorian, praising the way of life and legacy of Dalton, drawing applause from everyone, even though they knew he was preaching to the converted. After tha he had called Senator Roberts to speak. J.B.'s father had become much more receptive to Dalton's culture after a visit there a few months earlier, even more so after Eddie and Chad's parents talked to him about his chances of running for president.

After the ceremony, a big dance was organized in the school's main hall, welcoming the families of all the graduates. The Miller twins were a sensation among the girls, being stopped all the time to take selfies or record a video. Their Tik Tok had boomed and they had already been invited to participate in talk shows and even a Netflix series. The other Crows had also shared that fame to some degree. Videos featuring the three Jays were particularly popular. The twins father to the surprise of the closed-minded community where they had been raised supported them unconditionally after a conversation held at the Academy and a good portion of land annexed to the family property.

Jace was very interested in visiting the place in the company of Caroline, the twins' younger sister, and he was not the only one to strengthen relations between the families. Melissa, his own sister, was talking to Leo and something more serious had already been established between Mike and Amelia, Chad's sister, who in turn was already engaged to the English socialite Charlotte Humphries sister of Louise, Eddie's current girlfriend, whose sister Lilly, in turn, was involved in a serious but secretly very open relationship with J.B. Only the twins were single for marketing reasons as they should be available to satisfy the desires of fans of both sexes. Which didn't mean they were inactive, because at that moment the two were leaving the room accompanied by three girls and a boy, probably for a quick orgy.

Jace suppressed his smile as he glanced across the dance floor where Mike and Chad were dancing with their respective partners, moving on to the table where Eddie and J.B. were secretly exchanging caresses while their ladies did exactly the same, and turned his eyes to where Leo, in turn, courted his sister in an undisguised way. He would have a conversation with his friend about that. Nothing would give him more pleasure than being Leo's brother-in-law with his millions of dollars, but if he somehow hurt his sister the other Crow would see an entirely different side of Jace. Finally his eyes fell on Caroline Miller and he prepared to do exactly what Leo did with his sister. He was interrupted, however, by an unknown man, clearly a Dalton alumni.

"Jaime Sanchez I have longed to meet you. I am Philip Thompson."

"Ah, of course. From the same class as Trip Hartfield. You can call me Jace Mr. Thompson, it's my nickname between brothers."

"So call me Flip, Jace. My partner Brent Woodward have wanted to talk to you for some time, but due to the nature of our work we haven't been able to attend the official meetings."

"You're scouts, aren't you? Chad mentioned that you two were the sources for his father's group."

"Yes, we were. We were much less powerful than you were. I can't tell you how much because..."

"Because you don't remember. I understand the feeling. I confess that I don't know exactly how a scout job works.

"That's why we'd like to talk to you. I know Vince Carmichael expects you to replace him one day at the head of the academy. But that's not going to make your job as a scout any easier. So why don't you wait until that job is no longer necessary to take on a position here? Until then we would like to offer you another official job offer."

"I still have college ahead of me sir."

"Our offer won't interfere with your studies, boy. You can start as an intern, paid of course. Woody and I are senior partners at Alpha, one of the biggest marketing agencies in the country and we'd like you to join us. I've read some of the your written works and they are excellent. Furthermore, constant work travels are a great way to justify absences due to scouting jobs. You will need to be in different parts of the country looking for sources and ensuring their recruitment and transfer to Dalton. If If you want to get married one day, believe me, you'll need a solid excuse for your absences. And by the way you can't take your eyes off that beautiful red-haired girl, I believe it's in your plans."- He finished with a smile that Jace couldn't help but return.

"Flip, I feel honored to accept your offer. When do I start?"

"The day after tomorrow, when you've recovered from the tiredness that redhead will give you."

"Flip, please, we are proud Dalton’s sons it takes a lot to tire us out."

….

Epilogue - 30 years later

"Jem, calm down. - Jace said with a serious tone of voice to his eighteen-year-old godson sitting next to him in the backseat of one of Alpha’s luxurious car. - If you're going to be the leader of the Crows this year you can't just be anxious for going to visit a prospect. What would your father say about that or your uncle Chad?"

"I'm sorry, Uncle Jace. I'm doing my best to honor the legacy of the family and the Academy. But I can't completely avoid the anxiety. We are meeting the most powerful source in the last 30 years."

"Indeed, and do you know who was the most powerful source before him? Me. And I'm here by your side, a man from Dalton. You may be thinking you'll find some terrifying thing waiting for you, but in reality you'll find a scared boy who doesn't know why a prestigious school is offering him a scholarship. And it's up to you as president of the Crow Club to turn this scared boy into the terrifying thing. Your cousin Fritz went through this two years ago and Teddy Roberts last year. They had help from their brothers, Fritz had Eddie Miller and Teddy had Johny Miller and Mike Chang. You already have the upper hand Jem, I'm going to take over as Dalton's headmaster and take the twins with me and Leo Jr. will be there too You're covered, so put on your best smile and go to battle James Wentworth Hartfield-Jones." - He concluded as their car parked at a suburban house, making the boy relax a little.

Later while Jem was talking to the source he did the same with his father.

"In Dalton your son will be surrounded by the best professionals that the education system has to offer in addition to the company of extremely promising young people, Mr. Ansari. Jem, who is talking to your son now, is my godson and the son of the Supreme Court Judge Michael Jones, one of the youngest to hold the position during President Roberts' term. Theodore the president's grandson, studied at Dalton last year. And I know we only met and I'm taking over the institution, which may seem like a bias to you, but I studied there and I am a partner in one of the largest marketing companies in the world. From my class came great businessmen from the most diverse fields, in addition, Judge Jones himself also an Oscar-winning actor and a former football player, I'm talking about the Miller brothers, my brothers-in-law who you certainly know. Believe me you couldn't be putting Kamal in a better place."

"I believe you, Principal Sanchez. But I can't help but wonder what a place like Dalton could want with my son."

"I understand you, I thought that about myself one day, Mr. Ansari. The best answer I can give you is that I see a lot of myself in him." Jace replied with his usual arrogant smile.

#corruption #reality change #mind change #male tf #fratification #jockification

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