#alice in chains fluff

[aishnico]

#𝙅𝙀𝙍𝙍𝙔 𝘾𝘼𝙉𝙏𝙍𝙀𝙇𝙇: 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯

» summary: you promised to be by your boyfriend’s side, even though you weren’t together anymore (?)

» word count: 3k

» warnings: fluff, major angst towards the end (w/a happy ending, i guess?), alcohol & drugs, grammar issues

— 1988

"come onnn, you should definitely go with me. they are all amazing, i'm not saying these because my brother is in there." your friend, melinda, was trying to convince you to go to show of her bassist brother mike's and her drummer boyfriend, sean's new band.

"i don't know, mel, tomorrow evening i will be hella exhausted from work and i don't think i will have enough energy to go see them."

"i can take you there with cab after work!" she suggested. you shrugged. "then, maybe..." she didn't even let you finish and hugged you. "you won't regret it! you know how good my brother is at bass, and this guy, layne, oh my god... you would be fascinated by him i swear. and the guitarist, jerry, he's—"

"okay, okay. let it be a surprise to me."

like you told yourself, you were exhausted as hell. gladly you saw melinda inside a cab and she was waving at you. you smiled and entered the cap, sat next to her.

after about 40 minutes you arrived at the place. you grabbed drinks for you two and stood close to the stage. you really wanted to go and rest, or sitting somewhere here, at least

a couple of minutes later, the show started. melinda was right, you were fascinated by their frontman's voice. he was a brunette man with big, blue eyes. his voice was just, so unique and powerful you couldn't even describe it.

then you laid your eyes on the blond guitarist with blue eyes. he was wearing a white vest and revealing his torso. you first watched how his fingers were moving on the neck of his guitar. he was absolutely talented. you then looked at his face. damn, you thought. his platinum yellow hair was looking majestic while he was headbanging. your cheeks flushed and you felt melinda's smirk on you. you shake your head and start to pay attention to the rest of the band.

after about 30 minutes, the show ended. you clapped at them loudly like everyone else. they really were something else. you felt like they were going to be an impactful band in the future.

"come on, you already know mike and sean. let me meet you with layne and jerry." you wanted to protest at first but she was already dragging you backstage. when you two approached the guys, melinda hugged everyone except her boyfriend, sean. she kissed him and you saw mike's gaze at them. you then hugged mike and sean. melinda then coughed. "jerry, layne, this is [name]. a good friend of mine and mike's."

"hi, nice to meet you!" layne smiled at you. you returned the smile at him. "nice to meet you too. i, i don't know how to say but i've never heard a voice like yours, you're very talented." you saw his cheeks get slightly pinkish and responded with a cheerful thanks.

"let's get some drinks!" you heard sean's voice and started to follow him. jerry was walking beside you. "hi," you muttered to him. "what's up?" he responded. "nothing much, i should ask you this. how do you feel after your first show?" he yawned. "it wasn't my first show but today was great." you pressed your lips together. "okay," you simply answered and found nothing to talk about.

you never talked again, or let's say when you would encounter, you would talk 2 sentences. you thought he didn't like you, or you were just boring to him.

it was until one day, you were at a vinyl shop, the owner of the shop let you put rumours by fleetwood mac on the phonograph. you were dancing and care less about the people who were watching you. you then met with jerry's crystal blue eyes and his smile.

"you like fleetwood mac?" he asked.

"i love fleetwood mac." you answered while smiling at him.

that's how you become close. you talked about your favorite bands, and you learnt that you and him were listening to the same bands mostly. when he asked you what other music genres you're listening to, you told him that you like country music. and he immediately knew he wanted to know and meet you more.

the guys were shocked. because they thought you two didn't like each other. and look at you two now, you were sitting next to each other. you were playing an old, country song on an acoustic guitar while he was singing the lyrics with his angelic voice. layne sure had a powerful voice, but he couldn't sing peacefully like jerry right now, you thought.

sometimes, you would invite him over to listen to your favourite bands, he then either would sing, or play the song you wanted on acoustic guitar. music was the most important thing to connect you two.

you later discovered that he was great at arcade games you were great at too. so you would challenge him often. and the person who lost had to either buy a drink or food.

it came to the point where you would just invite him over and cook for him, or he would take you out to a good place (one day, he invited you over to their apartment and tried to cook for you, but it didn't result good. so when he would come over to you, you would teach him how to cook properly.)

after a while, you decided that you had mixed feelings about him. he was silly, talented, creative, and a good person. you loved his presence. and you loved him. but did you love him as a friend, or as a lover?

eventually, you decided you loved him as a lover.

two years later, they released their first album, facelift. it had a huge impact on the grunge scene for sure. you knew it from the beginning. you all met at your usual bar, celebrating their success. you then realized jerry was quieter than usual. you wanted to talk with him after.

everyone was either asleep or drunk. you were the only sober person there. when you looked at jerry, he was tipsy. "jer, is everything alright?" you asked him worried. he gulped and then looked at you.

"i, i don't know where to start." he mumbled softly. you then caressed his hands. "it's okay, take your time. you know i won't judge you." he nodded.

"i believe we did something really explosive. and i don't know what our way is going to be after this. i always wanted to be a rockstar. but this rockstar life makes me wonder about our future. what if some of us die because of alcohol or drugs? i don't want that, i want all of us to be together in the future." he then stopped and caressed your hand. this action made your cheeks flush.

"and i want you by my side too, now and ever. i love you, [name]" he said looking deeply into your eyes. you couldn't help but smile to yourself. "i've loved you first." he leaned close to your face. "but i'm pretty sure i've fallen in love with you harder." he smiled at you, your foreheads then touching.

"i promise to always be by your side, even if we break up in the future."

he grunted. "and i promise, i won't let it happen."

and before he could, you connected your lips slowly. he wasn't surprised so he kissed you back. after a couple of seconds, you heard someone's whistle. it was layne, he was smirking at you two. you didn't pull still, you didn't want to.

— 1996

promises were made to be broken, you thought. both of you couldn't keep your promises.

after releasing their first album, they got hella popular. they've attended various shows and tours, made friends from the music world. and besides their drinking habit, they've added drugs into their habits. these wouldn't reflect their career at that time, though.

but things got serious then. mike already had his drug habit before the release of facelift. and it got worse. in the beginning of 1993, he left. (or should you say 'fired'?) their new bassist's name was also mike. you liked him, he was talented and a humble guy. but the thing is, he kinda looked like old mike and it made seem pretty weird to you, at least.

you didn't even realize how your relationship with jerry got into after the release of jar of flies. he would come back to your arms again after an exhausting day, but he started to barely talk to you. you thought maybe he was just exhausted. but no,

not only that, when you two would go on dates, he would look soulless, or bored. you knew he was having a busy and hard time and you were trying to make him happy in the simplest ways. but you felt like it was going to nowhere. you were tired of picking up him from bars, being his trip sitter, and begging him to stop all of this. you were having a hard time in your work too. eventually, you got fired.

words could not express how furious you were. you were furious at your life, job, boss, and even your boyfriend. and seeing him after a rough day with a blonde girl, lying on his chest in your shared house, absolutely didn't help your problems.

"[name], please listen to me." he was trying to talk to you with a pleading and tired voice. but you just kept ignoring him. you were trying to find an empty cap on the busy roads of seattle.

"she's my cousin, god damn it!"

"cousin, my ass! why you didn't ever tell me about her then?! are you keeping things hidden from me, is this what we became now?!"

"i haven't seen her for almost 20 years! i only have her picture from our childhood, and i'm pretty sure i showed her before. i swear!"

you just rolled your eyes, not even looking at him. to your luck, an empty cab approached you. he grabbed your wrist and made you look at him. his eyes were bloodshot now. you didn't know if it was from cocaine or something else.

"i'm sorry, jeremy. i promised to be always by your side, but i don't think i could keep this promise anymore. i'm sorry, i'm sure that you'll find your true one." you said before entering the cab.

you came to pack your things from your house the next morning when you broke up with jerry. you found him wasted on floors. when he woke up, he held your leg, refusing you to leave and begging you to stay with him. you felt sorry for him, but you were tired of all of this. you had to leave even if he was right. and you hated yourself.

you then moved and found a new job in new york. you felt so lucky and you worked your ass hard not to lose your job again. in summer, you saw alice in chains on mtv unplugged. when you looked at their faces, you thought they were so done, so done with all of this. they weren't looking full of enthusiasm like in the old days.

and layne's girlfriend, demri's death absolutely didn't help to this situation. she also was your friend so you wanted to attend her funeral. but guess what? you were already on a business trip so you couldn't go. you could manage to go there after a couple of days. and when you went to see layne, well, you actually couldn't recognize him first. he was screaming and crying. his eyes got bloodshot. you felt so bad for him.

you then went to see the rest of the band. they were looking helpless. you hugged sean and mike but hesitated to hug jerry. you stayed with them for a while. you tried to support them as emotionally as possible you could. layne was yelling at all of you. he was yelling at guys that they didn't care about him, they cared about their frontman. and he was yelling at you for leaving them years ago and not attending her funeral.

it wasn't true, you thought. they all loved layne. especially jerry, he was his best friend after all. you knew it was making his heart broken when he saw him like this. you felt like you needed him to talk personally. you saw him at balcoon all alone, so you made tea for both of you. and went next to him.

"i hope this eases you even for a little." you said looking outside. "nothing can ease me right now." he responded. his voice sounded raspy. from cigarettes and some other shit, you thought.

"you just need to be by his side, he eventually will understand the truth."

he didn't say anything for a while. "then why did you leave me at that time, i really needed you."

"you know why i left, jeremy. i can't keep up with your shitty habits. not only is it killing you, it also kills me." he again didn't say anything. "are you happy there?" you shaked your head. "not even a little. two years have passed and i still feel like i don't belong there."

"then move here again, i don't ask you to be with me again. i just need to be around you again. didn't you say you would be by my side even if we broke up in the future, keep it again.”

you chuckled and turned your head at him. "i already broke it, i'm a shitty girlfriend, i guess." he chuckled too. "if you think that you're a shitty girlfriend, i don't imagine myself how a boyfriend i am." you two laughed. he then gently caressed your hand. "please, i need you." you thought about it. your new company's branch office was here too. maybe you could talk with your boss about it. "i'll think about it." you said while smiling at him.

your boss was kind enough to assign you in seattle. you started to set things to right again. guys helped you too. and you started to hang out with them like usual. but you started to see layne less and less.

you saw him again when jerry released his debut album. he looked more unrecognisable to you. even though he continued to live, he couldn't move on from demri's death.

— 2002

they had been on hiatus for the last 6 years now, everyone was at different projects, except layne. you didn't know what was he doing right now. you would check on him yourself or with jerry often, but he would always not have the energy to talk with you. he was like a walking dead.

in 19th of april, it just became dead. he actually died two weeks ago. you couldn't describe how you and others felt.

it broke all of you. you lost your best friend now and ever. you wish you could force him to go to rehab. you would try to convince him but he was just not listening to you. it felt like you were stabbed from your heart. nothing would make him come back.

the guys were more broken than you. they were closer to him than you were to him, after all. they lost their layne, their star, their soul... even though you were broken such as them, you still needed to be by their side.

you went to the funeral. the other thing that broke you was layne and demri were actually supposed to marry here. his family, his bandmates, and other friends from the music world were there. you hugged his mother, nancy, and the guys too. you couldn't find jerry.

you sat with them for a while. trying to support them with your words. then, you saw jerry outside. he came here from his tour.

"hey..." you approached him and touched his arm. he didn't look at you. he didn't say anything. but you knew, you knew he wanted to cry however much he wanted.

"i know you two were best friends. you were everything to him, so he was to you. so it's okay to let your emotions out. nobody would judge you, jer." you then opened your arms at him. he looked at you slowly and you tried to put a smile on your face. but you felt like your eyes got filled. his eyes too,

he then quickly hugged you. he was sobbing and mumbling this like "i've loved him so much, i wish he listened to us when we offered him to go to rehab. why do i have to lose the people i love the most? my grandmother, mother, layne..." he then continued to cry.

you caressed his back gently. after a couple of minutes, he calmed down for a bit. you held his hands.

"you won't lose anyone, you won't lose sean, the mikes, and your other friends. well, i can't promise it. but i can promise you one thing, you won't lose me. and i want you to promise me too, promise me i won't lose you. get clean, i beg you. my heart can't take it anymore." you didn't realize but you were crying too. he hugged you tightly.

"i will, i promise." he then kissed your cheek and then connected your foreheads.

"thank you, [name], for being by my side" you smiled at him. "always," you responded. "i know it's not a good time to ask but, do you think we can try again?" he asked.

you just smiled at him and took his hand to yours. "we will talk about when you'll come back after your tour." you leaded together to the stage where nancy and chris from soundgarden were singing ring them bells and wild horses together. it was a great tribute.

and you couldn't wait for his return, to talk with him about getting together again.

[tenderyellowbluefics]

Hi, could you please do something fluffy-smutty about Jerry Cantrell please and thank you :)

Sickness In Seattle // J.C

Thanks for the request!! I'll be honest I've had this idea for a little bit now and I just didn't have it in me to do smut I'm sorry!! But I'll def do something smutty with him in the future!!

Summary: When y/n wakes up with the flu, it is Jerry's duty to take care of her.

Warnings: None, just fluff!

Requests are open!

Your eyes slowly flutter open, scanning the room of your and Jerry's downtown Seattle apartment. You wince at the light as you start to become aware of the apparent headache you have. You look over at Jerry, still sound asleep. Long blonde hair thrown across his face, his bare upper half seeming to glow in the morning sunlight. You smile softly and swallow, only to wince in pain once more. This time you let out a groan. Apparently, it was louder than you thought as it caused Jerry to stir.

Incoherent mumbles come from him as he pulls you closer to him. And for the first time ever, you detest the feeling of his fingers on your skin. Even your skin feels sore, and the body heat coming from him makes you feel even worse. You try to pull away slightly and pull the covers off of you. This causes Jerry's eyes to shoot open. You’d never pull away from him like this.

"What's wrong?" He asks, his eyebrows furrowing. His voice is deep and raspy, dripping like honey from his mouth. But it’s still not enough to soothe you from the agony you’re in.

"I don't feel good," you mutter, your voice whiney and congested.

He sighs softly and brings the back of his hand to your forehead. "You're burning up."

You groan at his words. "No, I can't be sick." You protest as you try to sit up in bed. But as you do the room seems to spin.

"Woah there," Jerry says with a soft chuckle, sitting up next to you. "Whining won't make it any better."

You shoot him a look and roll your eyes before laying back down with a huff.

"I'm way too busy to be sick right now." You whine, looking up at him with a pout.

"Baby, it won't kill you to take one day to rest." He says softly, letting his right hand trail up your arm soothingly. "How about I go get you some medicine?"

You merely nod, not wanting to talk and inflame your throat any more than it is.

He hops out of bed and pulls on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt before striding over to your side of the bed.

"I'll be right back." He says, leaning down to place a kiss on your forehead.

Upon hearing the front door close you huff once more and roll over on your side. Since the day is ruined you decide it's best to at least get a little more sleep in.

You wake up a little later to Jerry's soft voice saying your name and nudging your side. You flutter open your eyes to see him standing over you.

"It's DayQuil time!" he sings, pulling an orange bottle of medicine out of a plastic bag.

"You really couldn't have gotten me the pill form?" You ask, disgusted at the thought of having to drink medicine.

"You know, thanks would suffice." He jokes.

"Thank you, baby." You say with a small chuckle.

He pours the medicine into the small shot glass-type top before handing it to you to drink.

You shudder slightly, quickly knocking back the medicine and swallowing, scrunching up your face in disgust. Jerry chuckles at this response and hands you a bottle of orange juice he also got at the store to chase it.

"That bad?"

"That bad." You say after taking a drink from the bottle of OJ.

He shakes his head with a laugh before kicking his shoes off and climbing into the bed. You scooch over as close as you can get to him and lay your head on his chest, in desperate need of body heat. The sickness causing your body temperature to fluctuate from being on fire to being ice cold.

He wraps both arms around you, placing his head on yours. He grabs the remote and flicks the TV on before deciding on some random sitcom.

"This is shit television, but I don't plan on being awake much longer anyways." He says with a yawn.

"Don't you have stuff to do today?" You question with a giggle.

"Hey, if you get to take today off so do I!" He chuckles. "No, but in seriousness, I did have stuff to do today, but it can wait; I gotta take care of my baby."

You raise your head up to kiss him on the cheek, earning a small smile from him. You lay your head back down and doze off to the sound of his heartbeat. Selfishly, you kind of hope you're still sick tomorrow so you both can stay home again.

[eyelessfaces]

before dusk

bob reynolds x reader

summary: As big of a place the Watchtower was, living as a fresh couple surrounded by a whole team of trained soldiers still made it feel a little tight and was inevitably bound to strip you off any kind of intimacy – Ava’s fake gagging whenever you and Bob were up close when she entered a common area never failed to ruin the moment, and Alexei’s well-meant but clumsy reminders for you and Bob to use protection in front of the whole team during dinner made it everyone’s turn to fake gag. So when Bob brought up the subject of going away for a few and the idea of it started to bloom inside your mind, you knew there was no turning back – the prospect of having Bob all to yourself for a couple of days was too exhilarating to consider chasing it away. 

or, you and bob take a proper break from new york.

tags: fluff, domestic fluff, getaway, established relationship, soft bob, he fell first and harder, implied smut, kissing, passenger princess bob, bob listens to 90s rock, love confessions

word count: 1.4k

masterlist | taglist | ao3 | @eyelessupdates

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It’s a three hour drive from New York.

You would have had plenty of other options for nice places closer than that, but you want to admit the change of scenery is nice, and hey, Bob asked and went out of his way to organize that weekend, from picking the place you would rent down to the snacks you would put in the glove box.

As big of a place the Watchtower was, living as a fresh couple surrounded by a whole team of trained soldiers still made it feel a little tight between mission briefings, training sessions and strategy meeting, and was inevitably bound to strip you off any kind of intimacy – Ava’s fake gagging whenever you and Bob were up close when she entered a common area never failed to ruin the moment, and Alexei’s well-meant but clumsy reminders for you and Bob to use protection – “even for superheroes”, he’d say – in front of the whole team during dinner made it everyone’s turn to gag and groan in secondhand embarrassment. 

So when Bob brought up the subject of going away for a few and the idea of it started to bloom inside your mind, you knew there was no turning back – the prospect of having Bob all to yourself for a couple of days was too exhilarating to consider chasing it away. 

You figured it would be a battle to get Valentina to let you go, but Bob had pulled the sensitive strings and turned it to his advantage, insisting it would be good for his mental health to get some fresh air away from New York; Valentina had immediately agreed, probably too afraid to deny Bob anything and rub him off the wrong way ever since the incident – it was nice to have that kind of pressure over her, in some way. 

Bob’s excitement easily shines through despite the depressing music pick (though you do dearly love Radiohead, Alice in Chains, and Jeff Buckley) and makes the three hour drive fly by. He’s a decent copilot when he’s not focused on watching and pointing out cow herds, and you can’t help but relish in how talkative and relaxed he is around you as he confidently talks about anything and everything that crosses his mind, compared to how nervous and fidgety he used to be the first few times you found yourselves alone and he could barely contain the big fat obvious crush he had on you.

The house seems small from the outside but more than enough for just the both of you, and you’re quick to understand that you’re mainly paying for the scenery rather than the house in itself; it’s in the middle of nowhere, overlooking the endless horizon of fields, and you know the landscape promises a lot once the sun will begin to set. 

Bob insists on unloading the car trunk and carrying your luggage, arguing that you drove so he carries, and things are easier to lift ever since he got the serum. 

He sets all bags down in the bedroom when you find it after a tour of the house and is quick to lunge onto the bed and persuade you to join him. 

His arms wrap around your waist, bringing you close to him, face sinking and nose nudging into the crook of your neck, hot breath warming the sensitive skin there as he asks if driving didn’t tire you out completely. 

His tone is half genuinely concerned, half tainted with an underlying suggestive intent before he lazily starts leaving trails of kisses where his face is buried, and you had been foolish not to expect it when you should have known he would get his mouth on you the moment you found yourselves alone – would get it everywhere – because this somehow was part of the whole point of that trip.

If you were fine before and driving didn’t properly wear you out, this should be it. You’re still pleasantly hazy and blanked out by the time Bob helps you clean yourself, or rather does it all by himself while you lay there from how boneless you feel, like your body is there but your mind isn’t or the opposite, you can’t really tell at this point. 

The silence that settles afterward feels brand new and like no type of silence you could have experienced before in the Watchtower, as it in fact was never really fully silent. Your fingers absentmindedly card through Bob’s hair as he lies with his head against your stomach, lulled by the steady rise and fall of your breathing and the sounds of birds chirping outside. You could stay here like this for the whole weekend if it didn’t mean wasting that heavenly setting, and it indeed is a battle between you and your body to drag yourself out of that bed because you know you will miss the sunset if you don’t.

You take a quick shower while Bob prepares sandwiches for you to eat on the walk you planned, and once you’re all set, you lock the house and roam around the fields and trails. Bob’s hand is securely holding yours as you walk unbothered by where it could lead you, but you know once you find a spot over a hill that is high enough to overlook the whole landscape and that gives you a breathtaking view of the bucolic setting, you’re where you were meant to be all along.

You sit side by side cross-legged in the soft grass, a gentle breeze caressing your hair as the sky begins to change under your eyes, watching like you’re witnessing mother nature’s own show. It’s quiet in a way it never is in New York, never could be. You can hear the humming chirps of crickets, the birds singing, the occasional rustle of the wind in the grass, and the colors of the sky shift in a way you have never so intensely observed before as the sun starts to set. 

“God, this is the best decision we made this year,” you mutter quietly, like it could somehow interrupt the show if you talked too loud, your eyes fixated on the horizon.

Bob doesn’t answer right away, not looking at the sunset anymore. He eventually hums his agreement, unable to help the grin over his face at the sight of you staring ahead, observing the pink clouded orange sky – and he doesn’t know if it’s the way the orange hues reflect over your skin, the glint in your eyes, the starstruck look and awed grin over your face, but he says it. 

“I love you”

It falls out of his mouth like it’s the most natural thing that could ever be said at the moment even despite it being the very first time it happens. It’s been sitting on his tongue for a while now, and it feels relieving, somehow, like a weight is lifted off his shoulder, like a clogging breath taken off his chest. 

That is until the silence fills in again when you don’t react and respond immediately and it all comes back right away; an overwhelming surge of anxiety blooming inside, the familiar feeling of realization when he figures he said something wrong, the mask of uncertainty slipping onto his face as he realizes he probably said it too soon and you probably don’t feel as intensely, the–

You see it happening, you have grown to know him too well not to; the way his mouth opens just slightly, gaze searching yours in creeping panic as he looks for an exit, anything to defuse the tension he thinks he has set. He’s about to talk again, you can feel it, he’s about to stumble on his words as he backtracks or apologizes or anything. Your hand comes to cover his mouth before he gets a word out. His eyes widen a little, then close when you let your hand go, leaning in and kissing him to chase the lingering doubts away. “I love you too”

All trace of uncertainty has disappeared off his face and has made room for a wide, bright smile. “That’s great,” he nods, the hint of a slight blush appearing over his face when you hold it.

You reciprocate his smile, do your best not to laugh. His habit of saying the most fortuitous things at the most random occurrences is endearing. 

More than he knows.

—

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[ceoofglytchell]

So this is love

| Part 2 | Part 3 |

Summary: From the moment you took your first breath, you were meant for each other. You are his twin, the missing part of his soul, and Aegon swore to himself that he would do anything in his might to make you happy.

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Twin Sister!Reader

Word count: 4355 words

Warnings: Incest, Reader has Targaryen features, tooth rotting Fluff, brief description of a birth, forced underage marriage, idiots in love, suggestive themes, brief mention of smut, talks of possible infertility, no mention of Y/N

Notes: I am late as usual, sorry. Likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated 💛

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

Alicent Hightower never expected to give birth to twins in her first pregnancy, but the gods seemed to have had a plan.

The midday sun shone high in the sky above King's Landing and warm rays of sunlight streamed through the windows as the young queen let out one last painful cry and suddenly an even more shrill, high-pitched scream cut through the air. The cry of a newborn echoed through the chamber and Alicent fell back onto the pillows, exhausted, relief spreading through her.

A maester held the screaming, bloody bundle in his arms, a gentle, almost fatherly smile spreading across his old features. Her husband was not in the room to assist her with the birth. Neither was Rhaenyra.

"It's a boy, Your Grace," the older man in the white robe and the many chains around his neck told the young wife, causing tears of joy to run down her cheeks. The birth had been quick, thank the gods, and she would not have to go through that ordeal again.

The king now had a male heir to the throne.

But suddenly another stabbing pain ran through her abdomen. At first Alicent thought it was the afterbirth, but that was not the case. Her hand found the curve of her rounded belly again and, with wide eyes in shock, she realized that the little boy was not the only one that had been growing inside her for nine months.

"There... there's another one," gasped the young Hightower, whimpering in pain.

The maester immediately handed the boy over to one of the midwives who were in the far corner of the chamber. He hurried back to his queen and looked between her thighs. She was right. There was indeed a second child.

Twins.

"The gods have blessed you, my queen. They are twins," said the maester as he helped her get into the right position again.

Alicent just hoped that the second time would be over just as quickly. A few minutes of pain and then joy. She did not want to lie bleeding and torn on the sheets like Viserys' first wife.

A cloud obscured the sun in the sky and Alicent burst into tears for the second time that day and screamed with all her might as she tried with all her might to bring her Lord Husband a second miracle. She did not know where he was, or if he even knew that she was giving birth to his children, but she hoped that he would be happy in the end. She had done her duty. If he was merciful, he would be happy with two children.

Minutes passed and suddenly the time had come. A second shrill scream echoed through the chambers and mixed with the cries of the little boy who was busy screaming his little lungs out.

The young queen held her breath as the maester took the second bundle in his arms to check that it was healthy. A minute passed and he looked down at her with another smile, although this one was a little more polite than the previous one.

"A girl," he finally stated, wrapped the newborn in soft cloths and handed the little one over to the queen.

At the same time, the midwife approached from the other side and placed the boy in her other arm. Full of love and with tears of joy in her eyes, Alicent Hightower looked down at her twins.

They were beautiful. Two little angels with silver hair and purple eyes. They would need names.

Suddenly the door opened and King Viserys, first of his name, hurried in with an excited glint in his tired eyes. But instead of immediately going to his wife's side to ask about her or to look at the newborns, he turned to the maester, who was a good friend of his.

She didn't hear his question, but she heard the older man's answer: "A boy and a girl, my king. Twins."

Viserys whispered something else and the maester quickly replied: "The boy, your grace."

She could guess what he asked. Who was out first?

Her husband let out a sigh of relief and only then did he approach the birthing bed and look at the two sleeping babies that his wife was holding in her arms.

"They are beautiful, my wife. You did very well," Viserys finally said, brushing a wet strand of hair from the queen's face.

"They will need names, husband," she replied wearily, looking up at him with uncertain brown eyes.

"We will call the boy Aegon. A strong name. He will honor the Conqueror's name."

Alicent looked down at the baby she held in her right arm. Aegon. A weight came with that name and it seemed as if the little life which only saw the light of day for a first time a few minutes ago, has already faded away to some extent.

"And the girl..." Viserys hesitated for a moment before finally saying your name. It was a beautiful name and suited you. It didn't have the same weight as Aegon's, but it was still meaningful.

The young queen smiled gently and pressed a kiss to your forehead and that of your twin.

That day the whole court had a reason to celebrate. Finally there was a male heir to the Iron Throne.

"Aegon, give it back, it's mine!" you shouted loudly as you ran after your twin through the dark corridors of the Red Keep.

Servants quickly moved aside and knights of the Kingsguard just sighed as the young Prince Aegon ran past them, closely followed by his younger twin sister, as if the stranger himself was on their heels.

You had only recently had your fourteenth name day, but you still chased each other and played with each other like you were little children who had only recently discovered the joy of play and fun.

Aegon held a pink silk hairband in his hand that your little sister Helaena had given you for your name day. It wasn't much or anything special, but because it came from her it was all the more special. Aemond had given you a small wooden dragon figurine that sat on your nightstand and would hopefully never fall into Aegon's clumsy hands.

"Go get it!" he called over his shoulder, laughing, whereupon you uttered a little curse that you certainly shouldn't know at your age.

Aegon ran sharply around a corner and slammed into something hard. He fell back to the floor and lay there for a few seconds, staring up at the ceiling and still holding the hairband in his fist.

Without looking where exactly you were running to, you ran around the corner as well. You suddenly saw a large figure in front of you, but before you could stop, you tripped over something lying on the floor and fell down just like that, breathing heavily and looking at the ceiling.

"Have you gone mad?!" shouted Ser Criston Cole and immediately knelt down next to you. Apparently you had overlooked the knight.

Aegon giggled and looked at the older man with an amused expression in his bright violet eyes, whom he sometimes saw more as his own father than the king. "Sorry."

The prince was about to stand up again when you suddenly jumped onto his stomach and tried as best you could to pull your hairband out of his hand: "Give it to me, Aegon!"

"Say it nicely!" he replied and only gripped the hairband tighter while you pulled on the ends.

"Fuck you!" you replied, whereupon Ser Criston could no longer look away, grabbed you by the hips and carried you away from your twin.

"Let me go, please! He stole my hairband," you explained, struggling against the knight's grip like a wildling behind the wall.

"Did he now?" he said with a sigh and looked down at Aegon, who slowly sat up again. His silver hair was disheveled and fell in wild strands over his face. Yours looked no different.

"Perhaps," the boy replied with a shrug.

"You should give it back to her, my prince. She's your sister," Cole said and slowly let go of you, but he kept a hand on your shoulder to be safe. He didn't want to risk another attack.

He bit his tongue, suppressing an unkind comment that would have called him either a fool or an idiot. But he wouldn't have meant it that way. You were his twin. You were one and the same soul that the gods put into two bodies.

"Fine," Aegon finally said and threw you the hairband, which you immediately accepted with a sigh of relief.

Ser Criston let go of your shoulder again, as he was very sure that the danger was now averted and that the twins would not jump at each other's throats. Especially not because he was already aware of what lay ahead. The queen had planned it together with her father and the king.

"Daughter!" a worried voice suddenly called from the side.

A green dress and fox-red hair appeared in your field of vision and you immediately felt two hands resting on your shoulders and brown eyes searching your gaze. The queen was obviously concerned about the state of your blue dress and silver hair.

Alicent ran her worried gaze over her firstborn daughter's face, looking for any scratches or bruises, but thank the gods you seemed to be fine. Only when she had made sure of this did she look at her son, who was standing not far away from her and staring at the floor.

She did not check him for wounds or minor injuries.

"Ser Criston? What happened here?" the queen asked her sworn protector with a tired sigh.

"The princess chased the prince through the corridors, Your Grace. It was a game between children," the Dornish man explained to her calmly so that there would be no confusion. As much as he valued the queen, he knew that she could get moody at times. Especially when it came to the king's firstborn son.

"Then why is her dress dirty?" Alicent asked, trying to brush some of the dirt off her daughter's skirt with the palm of her hand.

"The prince stumbled while escaping and the princess then stumbled over him," Cole continued. He was honest, but knowingly left out the argument and the fact that the boy stole his sister's gift to annoy her. He didn't want to give her any reason to worry or reconsider her decision.

Alicent sighed and shook her head at Aegon, who actually couldn't do anything about this little accident. Except, of course, that he stole your hairband.

"Well, I wanted to talk to you both anyway."

You looked curiously at your mother and raised a silvery eyebrow, while your twin just tilted his head.

"Of course, mother," you answered politely. "What is it?"

The Green Queen shook her head and gently placed a hand on your shoulder. The subject was too private to discuss with you here in the middle of the hallway. It was a difficult subject, but it was necessary for both of you to know about it.

"Come with me, you two. Ser Criston, you too," Queen Alicent ordered, turning and walking towards her chambers, which were not far from this corridor. She gently pulled you along by your shoulder, while Criston made sure that Aegon followed as well and would not run away again.

Once in the queen's chambers, Ser Criston closed the heavy wooden doors so that the queen could be alone with her firstborns. He already knew what was coming and it would probably get loud in not too long.

For a moment, the room was plunged into a loud, uncomfortable silence, with the chiming of birds and the distant ringing of bells the only sounds.

"Your father and I have made a decision," Alicent began with a serious expression, folding her hands in front of her stomach. "You will soon be adults and we are already receiving letters about potential marriage alliances."

Aegon's shoulders visibly tensed and you could feel your eyes widening.

A marriage? Now? It was still too early...

"In order to ensure that House Targaryen remains strong in future generations, we have decided to marry you both to each other."

For the young prince, it feels as if all the wind had just been knocked out of his lungs and as if a whole herd of wild horses had trampled over him. He did not want to marry. You were his twin sister and he loved you, even if you could be annoying at times, but was that love enough to want to be your Lord Husband?

Just like your brother, you were at odds with yourself and were lost in the deepest recesses of your thoughts, torn. He was your twin brother and your souls were already one. You always knew, even when he was feeling bad, you knew exactly when he needed you and now you would be bound to each other forever.

As husband and wife.

You found your voice first: "And when will it be, mother? When will we get married?"

A soft sigh escaped your mother and she scratched the back of her hand with her short, bitten nails as if she was nervous or under immense pressure. It almost seemed as if she didn't want this any more than they did.

"In a fortnight."

Time passed faster than you could have ever imagined. One day your mother had stroked your long silver hair soothingly while she told you about her own wedding and suddenly you were standing in front of the mirror while your maids stood behind you, lacing up the bodice of your ivory wedding dress.

The dress was beautiful. The fabric was white and there were small gold decorations on the chest, hips and sleeves. Your hair was tied in a braid and around your neck you wore a gold chain with a green gem in the middle - a gift from your mother.

You looked pretty. You just hoped that your twin would see it the same way.

Aegon couldn't believe his eyes when you entered the sept and your father, King Viserys, gently led you by the hand to the altar.

Although he still didn't want this marriage, he couldn't ignore the warmth that spread in his chest when he saw you and a lump formed in his throat.

You were beautiful.

"I am hers and she is mine." "I am his and he is mine."

With those words it was official. And when he finally pressed a quick kiss on your lips he knew that he could perhaps learn to see you as more than just his little twin sister.

But it would take time.

And that you took.

Six years have passed since your wedding day and a lot had changed in that time.

You were now grown up and far more mature than you had been just a few years ago. A lot had happened. Your little brother Aemond lost an eye, Rhaenyra and her sons moved to Dragonstone and your father was now seriously ill.

The issue of succession has been getting bigger and bigger lately and all kinds of voices are getting louder. There are some who are vociferously advocating for your half-sister and others who wish your husband would one day sit on the Iron Throne.

But you also knew something that no one else knew. Aegon was not interested in power or the crown. Family was the most important thing to him in the world and that included you.

In fact, you were the thing he loved most in the world.

Aegon's head rested on your lap, his eyes closed and his face peaceful as you gently ran your fingers through his short wavy hair. You hummed a soft melody and he was lost in your angelic voice. It was a kind of ritual between you. Every time the world outside your marital chambers became too much for you, you came back here and you calmed him down and he calmed you down in return.

"I heard them whispering again today," Aegon murmured against the velvet fabric of your dress. "They still wonder when the line will be secured."

A small sigh escaped you and you stopped humming as he reminded you of life outside again. Of your duty. The one you had failed at so far.

"Soon, my darling. I promise you. We just have to try a few more times and then everything will be fine," you tried to calm yourself and your brother-husband. But in vain.

It has been six years since your wedding and so far you have remained childless. It wasn't as if you weren't trying, because you were. Often enough, in fact. At first, sex and pleasure had been something that was foreign to you and made you feel uncomfortable, but now it had become something you enjoyed doing. Aegon had always loved it, and in the last few years he had shown and taught you so many things that you couldn't even remember them all.

"Mother is getting nervous," he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to the fabric of your dress while his hands ran soothingly up and down your lower back.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes. Of course she was getting nervous, but not for your sake. Not because she was worried about the functionality of your body or that of your twin, but because she was interested in the continuation of the royal line. Her blood on the throne. It was never about you, but about her ambitions and her will, shaped by her father the Hand.

"Yes, sure. If it were up to her, we would already have ten heirs,” you replied grimly, shaking your head. You wanted children, but not because you had to and it was your duty as Aegon's wife, but because you loved him and it would enrich your life.

It was similar with Aegon. Duty crushed him and in this great patch of darkness of the Red Keep, you were his only ray of light. A ray of sunshine on a rainy day, a gentle breeze in unbearable heat. Many years ago, he had wanted neither you nor this marriage, but you had taught him that this alliance could be more than a political tactic.

Because of you, he knew that he was more than the heir to the Iron Throne. He was more than that. His life had a meaning and that meaning was you. His twin, the other part of his soul, his light, his queen.

You saved him. More than once, and not only from the anger and rage of his mother and grandfather, but also from himself.

"She should be satisfied with one for now," said Aegon with a laugh.

You looked down at him with a smile on your lips and tapped him on the nose, whereupon he wrinkled his face and pulled a playful grimace, which in turn made you laugh.

"I love you, brother," you whispered softly, playing with one of his wild strands of hair that never let itself be tamed.

"And I love you, little sister," he replied with a grin.

"We're twins," you said, raising your eyebrows.

"But I'm still older."

"Only by a few minutes."

"Still."

"You're an idiot."

"And you're a twat."

He was behaving differently than usual. For several hours now, he had been following you through the corridors of the Red Keep like a kicked puppy that wants to apologize to its master for a misstep. It was strange. Especially because you didn't know what he could have done wrong.

Had he drunk too much again? Vomited on an old tapestry? Knocked over a vase? Ruined an heirloom? Questions upon questions, and you couldn't find an answer to any of them.

For the last half hour you had been sitting with Helaena in her chambers and she had told you something about the centipede she had in her collection while you tried not to show your disgust. She loved these little creatures and because she was your little sister you loved her too, but you couldn't understand that for the life of you.

You said goodbye with a smile and opened the door, but the moment it opened just a crack you could see a silhouette quickly disappearing around a corner.

What had your beloved brother done now?

"Aegon?" you called after him, but there was no answer at first.

You shook your head, your long silver hair falling in waves over your shoulders, and decided to follow him.

The corridor was empty. Apart from a few tapestries showing the conquest of Westeros by your ancestors and a few torches on the wet, cold walls, there was nothing interesting to see. Surprised, but still curious, you walked slowly down the corridor when suddenly a hand grabbed your wrist and pulled you into a small, dark alcove. Before you could scream, the person had already pressed a hand over your mouth.

Your instincts took over and you tried to defend yourself, but then-

A laugh. A laugh that was very familiar to you.

Aegon has rarely seen you as frightened as you were at that moment, and it amused him deeply. A broad grin lit up his features and a sparkle in his violet eyes revealed that he found everything about it very amusing.

Slowly he let go again and you couldn't help but hit him in the chest with full force, whereupon he coughed instead of laughing.

"What has gotten into you?! Do you want me to die?" you asked him angrily, but your Lord Husband just giggled and wrapped his arm around your waist while leaning his forehead against yours.

"Quite the opposite, my heart," he murmured before pressing a kiss to your lips and then another and then another.

You leaned away, whereupon he whined and pulled you even closer to him.

"What's wrong with you?" you asked him confused and shook your head. He was acting strangely.

"I want to give you a child. I want it so much," Aegon whispered and leaned forward to let his lips brush the side of your neck.

A shiver ran down your spine and you instinctively pressed yourself closer to him. Oh, you wanted to too. You wanted to be a mother and give him an heir. Or two or three. As many as he wanted.

"And what makes you think it will work this time?" you asked him instead as he gently sucked a mark onto your skin.

"There's this book-"

Your laughter interrupted him and he looked up at you with wide eyes: "What?"

"Forgive me, brother. I forgot that you also have the gift of reading," you replied with an amused giggle, whereupon he rolled his eyes exaggeratedly and pushed you against the wall with a sudden jerk.

"Don't be a brat. Don't you remember what happened the last time you were like this?" he asked you, bowing his nose in your silver hair and inhaling your sweet scent. Gods, he had to find the person who made your oils and make him a Lord, because you smelled divine.

"Of course I remember. But I feel sorry for Aemond when he accidentally came into our chambers," you said, leaning your head against the cold, stone wall behind you.

"Why? Sooner or later he had to learn that these positions were possible," he whispered and started to nibble on your earlobe, which made you whimper softly.

His one hand wandered down your body and he kneaded your backside, while sometimes he bit your earlobe and sometimes he peppered your neck with more kisses.

"Go on. What about that book, darling?" you asked him, your voice quiet and shaky.

"Apparently there is a position that promotes female fertility," he answered you with a grin.

"And you want to try it?"

"Yes."

"Now?"

"Now."

Exactly one month later, you came running out of Maester Orwyle's chambers with a wide grin on your lips. He had just told you the good news. You were pregnant. After six years of marriage, you were finally expecting Aegon's child. You could hardly believe it.

With quick steps you hurried to your marital chambers, where Aegon was leaning against the window and looking out into the courtyard. When he heard footsteps, he looked around and smiled when he saw you. His beloved wife.

Without saying a word to him, you jumped into his arms and clung to him tightly, a wide grin on your lips.

"Hey, my sweet, what's wrong?" he asked you, wrapping his arms around you.

Instead of giving him a direct answer, you held him even tighter. "You're going to have to be much more careful with me in the next few months, dear brother."

His eyes widened and he reached for your face to look into your eyes, which were identical to his own. Although he always found yours far more beautiful. Like sparkling jewels.

"You're pregnant," he whispered reverently, looking down at your stomach, which was still flat.

"It seems so," you murmured with a soft smile on your rosy lips. Finally. After so many years.

Without waiting another second, he pressed his mouth against yours and kissed you as if his life depended on it. He poured all his love and passion for you into that kiss as he slowly moved toward the windowsill.

He would have to be more careful with you now, but that didn't mean he couldn't love you, as any good husband should.

And, as fate would have it, a few minutes later Aemond came into your chambers to seek his big sister's advice, only to see you sitting on the windowsill in front of the open window, your hair disheveled and your cheeks flushed, and Aegon kneeling between your legs, his face between your thighs.

And for the second time, you gave him a view he would never forget.

Not again.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

Taglist: @bey0nd-1he-stars @sassypain @hisfavegirl

[wolvietxt]

𝓻oom 𝓯or 𝓶ore ??

pairing : dean winchester x female!reader warnings : food mentions, forced proximity, frenemies to lovers, crying, hurt / comfort, offhand comments, fluff, kiss wc : 3.3k a/n : hello supernatural fandom🙋‍♀️ i’m only on season two yet sorry if anything seems off, also taglist form here (i’ve finally added dean + sam)

the diner was loud, the clatter of plates and hum of conversation filling the space as dean leaned back in the booth, looking way too pleased with himself. he’d already finished his burger, one arm slung casually over the back of the seat while his other hand nursed a cup of coffee. sam, as usual, was glued to his laptop, scrolling through case notes like his life depended on it.  

you stabbed a fry into a pool of ketchup on your plate, glancing between the two brothers. "so, what’s the deal with this case? anything concrete yet, or are we still chasing theories?"  

sam didn’t look up, too focused on the screen. dean, on the other hand, smirked and tapped the edge of his mug. "chasing theories, sweetheart. that’s the fun part."  

"yeah, nothing screams fun like getting blindsided by a vetala or a skinwalker because someone didn’t do their homework," you shot back, arching a brow.  

dean grinned, the kind that always made you want to smack it right off his face. "don’t worry, i’ll save your ass. again."  

"oh, please," you scoffed, shaking your head. "the only thing you save is your own ego."  

sam finally chimed in, his voice calm as he flipped his laptop around to show the two of you a map. "four victims, all found in their homes, all with the same m.o. blood drained, no signs of forced entry. we’re looking at a vetala, but the pattern doesn’t quite fit. usually, they target travelers, not locals."  

"so, what’s the plan?" you asked, leaning forward.  

"we’ll hit the victims’ homes tomorrow," sam said, shutting the laptop. "for tonight, there’s a motel nearby. we can regroup there."  

"works for me," dean said, already sliding out of the booth.  

the drive to the motel was tense but quiet, aside from dean insisting on blasting some alice in chains track while you stared out the window, trying to ignore the knot of exhaustion twisting in your chest. by the time you pulled into the parking lot, all you wanted was a shower and some peace.  

"i’ll grab the rooms," sam offered, heading toward the front desk.  

dean stretched as he got out of the impala, giving you a sideways glance. "bet the rooms are gonna be just as glamorous as last time."  

"as long as they’re clean, i don’t care," you muttered, slinging your bag over your shoulder.  

a few minutes later, sam returned, holding two keys. his expression was almost apologetic as he handed one to dean.  

"is there a problem?" you asked as you approached him.

sam glanced back at you, looking sheepish. "there are only two rooms left."

"that’s fine," dean said easily. "i’ll take one, and you two can share."

"not happening," you and sam said in unison.

dean held up his hands, grinning. "okay, okay, relax. i’ll bunk with sam."

"actually," sam said, cutting in, "i already grabbed a key. figured i’d get first pick since i’m the one doing all the work."

your jaw dropped. "are you kidding me?"

"sorry," sam said, though he didn’t sound sorry at all. "but hey, at least you’re stuck with dean and not some random stranger, right?"

you glared at him, but he just flashed you a smug grin and gave a quick peck on the cheek before disappearing into his room, a soft chuckle coming from his direction.

"great," you muttered.

dean jingled the remaining key in his hand, smirking. "c’mon, sweetheart, don’t look too excited. i don’t bite. unless you’re into that." he muttered, winking at you. 

"don’t call me sweetheart," you muttered, snatching the key from him and stomping toward the room.  

"aw, come on," dean said, following behind. "it’s not that bad. i’m great company."  

you didn’t dignify that with a response, shoving the door open and flicking on the light. the room was standard cheap motel fare: scratchy carpet, ugly wallpaper, and one double bed smack in the middle.  

"of course," you muttered under your breath.  

"well," dean said, tossing his duffel onto the bed, "this’ll be cozy."  

"you’re sleeping on the floor," you said flatly, dropping your bag onto the chair.  

he scoffed, already kicking off his boots. "yeah, that’s not happening. bad for my back."  

"your back?" you repeated, turning to glare at him. "what about my back?"  

he grinned, flopping onto the bed like he owned it. "you’ll survive."  

"you’re unbelievable," you muttered, running a hand through your hair.  

"relax, sweetheart," he said, propping himself up on his elbows. "it’s just one night. unless you’re worried about me stealing the covers."  

"i’m worried about strangling you in your sleep," you muttered, grabbing your toiletries and heading for the bathroom.  

his laughter followed you, low and smug.  

when you returned, showered and slightly less irritated, dean was still sprawled across the bed, flipping through channels on the ancient tv.  

"move," you said, gesturing for him to scoot over.  

he rolled onto his side, patting the spot next to him. "plenty of room, baby. don’t be shy."  

you froze at the word, heat creeping up your neck. "don’t call me that."  

"what? you don’t like pet names?" he asked, smirking.  

"not from you," you snapped, climbing into bed as far from him as possible.  

he chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. "suit yourself, princess."  

you turned your back to him, willing yourself to sleep. but after a few minutes of silence, dean spoke again, his tone lighter now.  

"you know, for someone who acts so tough, you sure get wound up over the little things."  

"what’s that supposed to mean?" you asked, not turning around.  

"just saying," he said, and you could hear the grin in his voice. "you’re always trying so hard to prove something. it’s like you’re afraid if you’re not perfect, you’ll just... fade into the background or something."  

the words hit harder than you expected, and you felt your chest tighten.  

"wow," you said quietly, your voice colder now. "thanks for the psychoanalysis, dr. winchester."  

"hey, i didn’t mean - " he started, his voice accompanied by a hint of amusement.

"forget it," you said, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself.  

dean didn’t say anything else, and after a while, you heard the tv click off. but sleep didn’t come easily, the sting of his words lingering long after the room went dark.  

the room was too quiet. the kind of quiet that made every little sound seem deafening: the creak of the mattress springs when dean shifted, the low hum of the heater kicking on, the rustle of the thin motel sheets.  

you lay on your side, staring at the wall. the pillow beneath your head felt stiff and lumpy, but that wasn’t what was keeping you awake. it was his words - flippant, thoughtless, but sharp enough to slice through you like a blade.  

"you’re always trying so hard to prove something... like you’re afraid if you’re not perfect, you’ll just fade into the background or something."

dean didn’t get it. he never did. it wasn’t just about proving something. it was about survival. you couldn’t afford to screw up - not in your line of work, not with the stakes so high. the constant pressure to be sharp, to be reliable, to be good enough - it wasn’t a choice. it was a necessity.  

and then dean had to come along and throw it in your face like some stupid joke.  

you rolled onto your back, staring at the ceiling. the tears prickling at your eyes were unwelcome, hot and stubborn. you didn’t cry often - not over things like this. but tonight, with exhaustion weighing heavy on your shoulders and his words still echoing in your head, it was harder to hold back.  

on the other side of the bed, dean was still awake. you could hear his steady breathing, the faint rustle of fabric as he adjusted his position.  

"you asleep?" he muttered, voice low in the dark.  

you didn’t answer.  

"look, i didn’t mean anything by what i said earlier," he added after a moment, his tone uncharacteristically hesitant. "i was just messing around."  

still, you said nothing.  

he sighed, and you could picture him scrubbing a hand over his face in frustration. "fine. be mad. whatever."  

you turned back onto your side, curling into yourself as quietly as you could. you just wanted him to stop talking, stop prying at the wound he’d opened.  

a tear slipped free despite your best efforts, quickly followed by another. you pressed your face into the pillow, hoping the darkness would swallow your silent crying.  

but then dean spoke again, and his words hit you like a brick.  

"are you hugging the damn pillow?"  

your breath hitched. you weren’t hugging the pillow exactly, but you had one arm curled around it for some semblance of comfort. you stiffened, waiting for him to make another joke.  

and he did.  

"what, you need a cuddle buddy?" his voice was teasing, laced with that stupid humor he always used to deflect.  

"shut up, dean," you said, your voice cracking in a way that made you wince.  

the laughter in his voice faded immediately. "wait... are you - "  

"don’t," you snapped, your throat tight. "just don’t."  

the room went dead silent. for a moment, you thought maybe he’d dropped it, that he’d roll over and go to sleep. but then the bed shifted, and you felt him sit up.  

"hey," he said softly. "what’s going on?"  

you shook your head, not trusting yourself to speak.  

"come on, talk to me," he pressed, his voice gentle now. "did i say something? because if i did..." he trailed off, exhaling a long breath. "damn it. i’m sorry, okay? i’m an idiot. we both know that."  

you let out a shaky breath, wiping at your face with the sleeve of your shirt. "it’s fine. just forget it."  

"yeah, no," he said, moving closer. "you don’t get to say ‘it’s fine’ when you’re over there crying into the pillow."  

"i’m not crying into the pillow," you muttered, your voice muffled.  

"baby," he said, the word soft and warm and startlingly tender. "you can’t lie to me. i can hear it."  

your breath hitched at the nickname. it wasn’t one he used often, and when he did, it wasn’t like this - low and soothing, like he was trying to piece you back together.  

"just drop it," you said, curling tighter into yourself.  

"not happening," he said firmly. you felt the bed dip as he leaned closer, his hand brushing your shoulder. "look at me."  

"no."  

"please," he said, his voice quieter now, almost pleading.  

you hesitated before slowly rolling onto your back, your arms still wrapped protectively around yourself. his face was close, the dim light from the streetlamp outside casting soft shadows over his features.  

"what did i say?" he asked, his brows furrowed in concern.  

you bit your lip, the words sticking in your throat, tears rolling down your flushed cheeks. but the way he was looking at you - like he actually cared - made it harder to hold them back.  

"you said..." you started, then stopped, your chest tightening. "you said i’m trying too hard. like... like i’m afraid i’m not good enough."  

his face fell, and you saw the exact moment he realized how much his words had hurt. "oh, sweetheart," he murmured, his hand finding yours. "i didn’t mean that. i swear. i was just being a jackass, like always."  

you shook your head, blinking back fresh tears. "it’s not just that, dean. it’s... everything. the way you always joke around, like nothing’s serious. like none of this matters. but it does. it matters to me."  

he didn’t say anything for a moment, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in slow, soothing circles. "you’re right," he said finally. "it does matter. and i should’ve thought about that before running my mouth."  

his honesty caught you off guard, and you glanced up at him, your defenses wavering.  

"you’re good at what you do," he said, his voice steady. "better than good. you’re smart and tough and... and hell, i don’t even know how you put up with me half the time. but you do. and i..." he hesitated, his green eyes searching yours. "i don’t want you to think i don’t see that. or that i don’t appreciate you. because i do."  

your breath caught, and for a moment, the only sound in the room was the faint hum of the heater.  

"dean," you whimpered, your voice barely above a whisper.  

he leaned closer, his hand moving to cup your cheek. "i mean it, baby," he said softly. "you mean a lot to me."  

the words hung in the air, heavy with something unspoken. before you could second-guess yourself, you tilted your head slightly, and his lips brushed against yours - tentative, testing.  

when he felt you kiss him back, his hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. the kiss deepened, slow and unhurried, like he was trying to say everything he couldn’t put into words. his hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. he was solid and warm, his body pressing into yours with an intensity that made your heart pound. his fingers traced the curve of your back, dipping under the hem of your shirt just enough to make your skin tingle.  

you felt the roughness of his fingertips, the callouses from years of hunting and fighting. they were a stark contrast to the softness of his touch, a reminder of how layered he was - how carefully he’d built this facade that now felt like it was falling away. he moaned low into the kiss, the sound vibrating against your lips, and you responded with a shiver, your hands finding their way to the hard lines of his chest.  

you couldn’t help but feel his breath hitch as you pressed your palms against him, as if the simple contact spoke volumes. his mouth moved against yours, claiming, exploring, every stroke of his tongue leaving a heat behind that was making it hard to think straight. his hands shifted, one moving up to cradle your face, his thumb sweeping over your cheek, the other slipping under the edge of your shirt again, skimming just above the curve of your hip.  

he pulled you tighter, until you were pressed fully against him, the soft fabric of his shirt brushing your skin. you could feel the heat radiating off of him, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, the way he seemed to anchor you to the moment, making sure you were there, right with him. it was dizzying, intoxicating, a heady mix of familiarity and newfound wonder that made you feel like you were on the edge of falling.

his mouth traveled to the corner of your jaw, down your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses that made your skin burn. you gasped, a soft, involuntary sound that sent a surge of pride through him, made him growl low in his throat as he pulled you back into another kiss. his hands moved, now tangled in your hair, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, making sure you felt every ounce of him, every single unspoken word he hadn’t said yet.  

when you finally broke apart, his forehead rested against yours, his thumb still tracing gentle patterns along your jaw.

"you okay?" he almost cooed at you.

you nodded, your heart racing. "yeah. i think i am."  

"good," he said, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "because i’m not going anywhere. not tonight. not ever."  

you didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you just leaned into him, letting his warmth and steady presence chase away the lingering ache in your chest.   

you woke to warmth. a heavy arm draped over your waist, the quiet rise and fall of his chest pressed against your back. for a moment, you didn’t move. you let yourself sink into the comfort of it - the weight of his arm, the steady rhythm of his breathing, the faint smell of his aftershave still clinging to the air.  

then reality crept in, and your eyes blinked open. the events of the night before played on a loop in your mind: the fight, his apology, the kiss.  

you turned slightly, just enough to see him. dean was still asleep, his face softer in the early morning light. his lips, which had been pressed to yours just hours ago, were parted slightly, and his hair was sticking up in a way that would’ve made you laugh if your heart wasn’t pounding so hard.  

you were so caught up in watching him that you didn’t notice his eyes fluttering open until it was too late.  

"morning," he said, his voice low and gruff with sleep.  

"morning," you murmured, suddenly hyperaware of how close you were.  

he didn’t move his arm, didn’t pull away. instead, he tightened it slightly, drawing you closer.  

"you okay?" he asked, his tone soft but cautious, like he wasn’t sure where you stood after everything.  

you nodded, your cheeks warming. "yeah. i’m okay."  

his lips twitched into a small smile, the kind that always seemed to disarm you. "good."  

for a while, neither of you said anything. the quiet was comfortable this time, filled with the unspoken understanding that something between you had shifted.  

eventually, you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. "so, uh... about last night."  

his smile faded slightly, replaced by a more serious expression. "yeah. look, if you’re having second thoughts, or if - "  

"i’m not," you said quickly, cutting him off.  

his brow furrowed. "you’re not?"  

you shook your head, your fingers nervously fidgeting with the edge of the sheet. "no. i’m not."  

relief washed over his features, and he let out a breath you didn’t realize he’d been holding. "good. because, uh... i meant what i said. all of it."  

"even the part where you called me baby?" you teased, a small smile tugging at your lips.  

he chuckled, the sound low and warm. "especially that part."  

you couldn’t help but laugh softly, the tension in your chest easing. "you’re such a sap."  

"yeah, well, don’t get used to it," he said, but the teasing edge in his voice didn’t quite mask the affection in his eyes.  

before you could respond, there was a knock at the door.  

"you two decent?" sam’s voice called from the other side.  

you froze, your eyes widening as you looked at dean. he just smirked, clearly amused by your panic.  

"yeah, come on in," he called back, his tone casual.  

"dean!" you hissed, scrambling to sit up and tugging the blanket higher over yourself, even though you were fully dressed.  

the door opened, and sam stepped in, his eyes immediately darting between the two of you. his brows raised slightly, but he didn’t say anything.  

"breakfast?" he offered, holding up a brown paper bag.  

"thanks, sammy," dean said, sitting up and stretching like he hadn’t just been caught in bed with you.  

sam set the bag on the table, his expression carefully neutral. "we should hit the road soon. got another lead a few towns over."  

"got it," dean said, already reaching for the bag.  

as sam left, you turned to dean, your eyes narrowing. "you’re impossible, you know that?"  

"what? it’s not like we were doing anything wrong," he said, unbothered.  

you rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at your lips. "you’re lucky i like you."  

"damn right i am," he said, leaning over to press a quick kiss to your temple.  

and just like that, the tension was gone, replaced by the easy banter that had always defined your relationship - only now, there was something softer beneath it. something real.  

as you packed up and got ready to leave, you couldn’t help but feel a quiet sense of hope. the road ahead was uncertain, as it always was, but for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel like you were facing it alone.  

you glanced at dean as he loaded the bags into the impala, the sunlight catching in his hair. he looked over his shoulder, catching you watching him, and smirked.  

"you coming, baby?"  

you rolled your eyes, but your smile didn’t fade. "yeah, i’m coming."  

and as you slid into the passenger seat, the familiar rumble of his impala’s engine beneath you, you couldn’t help but think that maybe - just maybe - this was the start of something good.  

🌀 dean winchester : @person-005

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

[cherrygirlfriend]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ personal hairdresser

pairing: natalie x opposite!reader synopsis: reader is studying to become a hairdresser and needs a guinea pig warnings/tags: fluff! slightly suggestive ending. wc: 400 a/n; i got this idea as i was bleaching my own hair; and i'm waiting for it to develop as i wrote this.

natalie masterlist ♡

"come oooon," you whined, sticking out your lower lip, poking your girlfriend's arm, "please, it's for my assignment!"

"why don't you just ask one of your friends?" she let out an exasperated sigh, taking a small sip of her beer before turning to face you, cocking her head to the side. "one of them can act as your mannequin head."

"because most of them are already blonde." you let out a groan, "come on, please, nat?" you tugged on the sleeve of her shirt, "pleeeeeaseeee, honeypie, sweetie, pumpkin-"

"alright, alright!" natalie interrupted you with a loud sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose, "if you stop saying those things then i'll be your damn lab rat."

the shitty stereo you got from the thrift store was at the bathroom entrance, blasting sunshine by alice in chains, the entire room reeking of bleach as nat was sat in front of you on a stool, wearing one of her old ratty shirts as you were applying bleach into her hair.

"how long is this gonna take?" natalie sighed, her head bobbing slightly to the music, your lips quirking up into a smile. "i haven't done this shit since high school."

"it's not my fault that you have such thick hair, you know." you raised your brows, rubbing the dye into her scalp, the girl leaning into your touch, "it shouldn't be long."

an hour went by, and your girlfriend emerged from the bathroom, steam billowing behind her. natalie had one towel wrapped around her body and one in her hand, drying her hair.

"so, are you excited to be blonde again?" you asked, wiggling your brows playfully, and even though nat rolled her eyes, you could see the small quirk of her lips as she made her way to you.

"you're lucky i love you." natalie said, bending down to press a quick peck on your lips, but when she pulled away from you, you took hold of her wrist, making the girl raise her brows as her gray eyes flicked from her wrist to your face, her eyes flitting, "what-"

"i have an idea for what we can do while we wait for your hair to dry." you grinned up at her, tugging at the white towel wrapped around her. natalie laughed, shaking her head.

"you're impossible." nat whispered, biting her lower lip in thought for a moment before pulling her towel open and letting it fall to the floor.

[winwintea]

on my bike

PAIRING ↬ ghost rider!lee jeno x fem!reader (feat. yu jimin/karina)

TAGS ↬ fluff, action, romance, angst, hidden feelings, best friends to lovers au, marvel au, ghost rider au, superhero au, antihero jeno potentially, reader is actually a mutant named surge, but she doesn't know it yet, karina is basically emma frost, this is NOT canon to actual marvel lore lol, more inspired by comics than the movies, jeno is a mix between johnny blaze and danny ketch, wrote the word 'venegance' so many times im starting to believe jeno is batman actually

WARNINGS ↬ mentions of alcohol and drug abuse, jeno crashing out, stunts going wrong, and a fight scene

SUMMARY ↬ after a brutal attack, stunt motorcyclist lee jeno stumbles upon a cursed bike and becomes the ghost rider. now bound to the spirit of vengeance, he fights to control his hellish powers while you, his childhood best friend, fall under the influence of a powerful telepath. as your own abilities awaken and tensions ignite, one question remains: will you save each other or burn together?

WORD COUNT ↬ 14.7k words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ↬ for @sungbeam's action figures collab!!!!! tysm for letting me join, this was literally the first time i've ever participated in a collab... and it was so fun. definitely challenged myself here, i'm not used to writing super hero or such action-packed scenes so if it's bad i apologize lol. anyways title is inspired by purple kiss i am in love with them now actually.

PLAYLIST ↬ no roots - alice merton; on my bike - purple kiss; nightmare - halsey; highway to hell - ac/dc; play with fire - sam tinnesz, yacht money; bang bang bang - bigbang; million dollar baby - ava max; mad head love - kenshi yonezu; wanted dead or alive - bon jovi; the chain - fleetwood mac; house of memories - panic at the disco; hymn for the weekend - coldplay

“LEE JENO.”

you muttered under your breath, watching as the sound of a roaring motorcycle echoed through the streets of your city, a blur of black and chrome weaving recklessly through traffic. “Of course.”

The bell above the door jingled as Jeno strolled in, helmet in hand, his trademark smirk plastered across his annoyingly perfect face. His leather jacket was scuffed from what you could only assume was another unnecessary stunt, and his bleached white hair stuck to his forehead with sweat.

“Guess who just broke his own jump record,” he announced, sliding into the booth across from you.

“You mean guess who just almost got himself killed,” you retorted, narrowing your eyes at him.

Jeno raised his hands in mock surrender. “Relax, Y/N. It’s not like I landed on someone’s house or anything.”

“Not this time,” you snapped, folding your arms. “Seriously, Jeno, you can’t keep pulling this shit. You’re going to hurt yourself. Or someone else.”

He rolled his eyes and leaned back, draping one arm casually over the seat. “What’s life without a little risk?”

“Life without you being the industry’s walking insurance liability?” you shot back. “Sounds nice.”

For a second, his smirk faltered, but he quickly bounced back, leaning forward to snag a fry off your plate. “You worry too much. It’s cute, but unnecessary.”

“Don’t call me cute,” you muttered, snatching your plate away before he could grab another fry. “And I wouldn’t have to worry if you didn’t make it your mission to stress me out every single day.”

“Hey, if it makes you feel better, I’m perfectly fine right now,” he said, his voice light but tinged with something defensive.

You gave him a pointed look, gesturing toward the fresh scrape on his arm. “What about that, then? Don’t tell me that’s from cooking. You never cook.”

Jeno glanced down at the scrape, shrugged, and smiled sheepishly. “Fine, maybe I’m a little scratched up.”

“Scratched up doesn’t even begin to cover it,” you muttered, your voice softening. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep watching you do this to yourself, Jeno.”

His smile faded completely now. He suddenly shifted uncomfortably in his seat and grabbed his helmet. “Look, Y/N, I get it, okay? But this is who I am. You don’t have to like it, but you don’t have to stick around either.”

“That’s not fair, and you know it,” you said, your voice cracking slightly. “You’re my best friend. I’m always going to stick around. But that doesn’t mean I’m just going to sit here and watch you destroy yourself.”

Jeno hesitated, the weight of your words settling in the space between you. “I’m fine,” he said, but the words lacked conviction. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Yeah, well, too bad,” you replied, standing up and grabbing your jacket. “Because I do. And one day, your luck’s going to run out, Jeno.”

The crowd at the high-stakes stunt show was massive. Rows of bleachers packed with spectators buzzed with anticipation. You sat near the front, hands gripping the edge of your seat, your stomach twisting in knots. Except it wasn’t from excitement, but from anxiety.

Jeno was notorious for taking unnecessary risks, but tonight felt different. This wasn’t just a local showcase; this was a high-profile event with reporters and big-shot sponsors. The stakes were higher, and so was the pressure.

He’d even sworn he was “clean this time,” but you weren’t convinced.

“Ladies and gentlemen, get ready for the highlight of the evening!” the announcer boomed, his voice carrying over the speakers. “The one, the only—Lee Jeno!”

The roar of the crowd was deafening as Jeno rode into the arena, his sleek black motorcycle displayed under the spotlights. He raised one hand in acknowledgment of the cheers before revving up his engine, the rumble vibrating through the stands.

You exhaled sharply, muttering to yourself, “He better not screw this up.”

“Y/N!” Jeno’s voice rang out through his helmet’s mic, directly out of the speakers. He pointed at you, earning a cheer from the crowd. “This one’s for you!”

You rolled your eyes, your face heating up as you pulled your hands over your eyes. The spectators around you erupted into laughter and applause. “Great,” you muttered. “Now I’m part of the show.”

The announcer continued hyping up the crowd. “Jeno will attempt a daring backflip over not one, not two, but three flaming trucks! A feat no rider has dared before!”

Your stomach sank. Flaming trucks? Three? You shot Jeno a warning glare as he revved the bike again, giving you a wink in response.

Oh we’re so fucked.

Unbeknownst to you or Jeno, a group of shadowy figures loitered near the equipment trucks at the edge of the arena. But they weren’t here for the show. Instead, they were here for revenge. One of the men, a burly figure with a scar slicing through his brow, tightened his grip on a wrench.

“Showoff thinks he can cheat us and walk away?” he growled, “Let’s see him jump when his bike doesn’t even make it halfway.”

The group moved swiftly, one of them sneaking into the mechanics’ pit to tamper with Jeno’s ramp. Another slipped toward his bike, loosening key components. They didn’t care about the collateral damage. This was to send a message.

Jeno revved his engine once more, signaling to the crew that he was ready. The crowd roared as he sped toward the first ramp, flames rippled against the sides of the trucks he was about to clear.

You leaned forward in your seat, heart pounding. “Please don’t die. Please don’t die,” you muttered under your breath.

Jeno hit the ramp with precision, the bike soaring into the air like a black comet. The first flip was smooth, flawless even, and the crowd erupted in cheers.

But something went wrong on the descent.

The bike wobbled midair, tilting dangerously to the side. Jeno fought for control, but the tampered suspension buckled on impact with the second ramp. The motorcycle skidded, sparks flying as Jeno tumbled, his helmeted head slamming into the ground with a sickening thud.

The crowd gasped in unison, the cheers turning to horrified murmurs. You were on your feet in an instant, heart in your throat.

“JENO!” you screamed, scrambling down the bleachers toward the arena floor.

Before you could reach him, the saboteurs’ plan spiraled even further out of control. The flames from the trucks flared, spreading to the hay bales that lined the arena. As you sprinted toward Jeno’s crumpled form, one of the burning bales exploded, sending debris flying.

You didn’t even have time to react as a sharp piece of metal tore through the air, striking you across the side. Pain bloomed in your ribs, and you crumpled to the ground.

Dazed but conscious, Jeno pushed himself to his hands and knees, shaking off the stars in his vision. When his gaze landed on you lying motionless on the dirt, blood seeping into your shirt, something inside him snapped.

“No, no, no…” he muttered, dragging himself to his feet. His bike was destroyed, the flames were spreading, and you. You were hurt because of him.

Ignoring the chaos and his own injuries, Jeno stumbled toward you, scooping you into his arms. “Stay with me, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Please.”

He didn’t know where to go, only that he had to get you help. Cradling your limp body, Jeno ran blindly, the roaring flames and chaos fading into the background. His arms ached from carrying you, your weight heavy but nothing compared to the crushing guilt that clawed at his chest. He glanced down at you, your face pale, a streak of blood running from your temple.

“You’re gonna be fine. You hear me? Just fine.” he whispered hoarsely, his voice trembling. 

The junkyard loomed ahead, its twisted silhouettes of rusted cars and mangled scrap metal casting long shadows under the moonlight. The attackers had scattered once the chaos at the arena spiraled out of control, but Jeno wasn’t about to risk being found. Not with you like this.

He stumbled into the junkyard, his knees nearly buckling as he reached what looked like the remnants of an old garage. The air was thick with the metallic tang of rust and oil. He carefully laid you down on an old tarp, brushing a strand of hair from your face with shaking fingers.

“Okay, okay…” Jeno muttered, looking around frantically. “Think, Jeno. Think. I need to—need to stop the bleeding.”

He tore a strip from his tattered shirt and pressed it against the wound on your side, and watched as your chest slightly rose up and down. Relief flickered in his chest. This meant you were still alive. 

The makeshift bandage was quickly soaked through. “Dammit,” he hissed, running a hand through his hair, smearing grease and sweat across his face. He needed help, but there was no one here. No one except—

The motorcycle.

It caught his eye in the far corner of the garage, half-buried under a pile of scrap. Its frame was unlike anything he’d ever seen, sleek yet ancient, with intricate carvings etched into the metal. It seemed almost alive, faintly glowing with an otherworldly orange light that pulsed like a heartbeat.

“What the…?” Jeno muttered, taking an unsteady step toward it. He couldn’t explain it, but something about the bike drew him in. The air around it felt heavier, charged with an unnatural energy that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

He glanced back at you, lying unconscious, and then at the motorcycle. Desperation clouded his judgment. Maybe. Just maybe? It could help. He didn’t know how or why, but the pull was undeniable.

Jeno reached out, his fingers hovering over the handlebars. The metal was warm, almost hot to the touch, and the glow intensified as if reacting to his presence.

“This is insane,” he muttered, but his hand closed around the grip anyway.

The second his skin made contact, a searing pain shot through his arm, up his spine, and into his skull. He screamed, his knees giving out as an overwhelming heat consumed him. Flames erupted from the motorcycle, engulfing him in a fiery inferno that didn’t burn but felt like it was tearing him apart from the inside.

Memories flashed before his eyes. Every reckless decision, every lie, every failure. The faces of those he’d hurt, including yours, swam in his vision. And then, a voice echoed in his head.

“Lee Jeno.”

Jeno’s body convulsed as the fire intensified, his skin crawling with molten energy. When the flames subsided, he was no longer the same. His hands burned with chains of fire, and his eyes glowed a fierce, demonic orange. He looked down at himself, his reflection faintly visible in the bike’s chrome. His face was a skull, wreathed in flames. The Spirit of Vengeance had awakened. Jeno was its vessel.

“My new Ghost Rider. Your sins are heavy. But your vengeance will be greater.”

“No,” Jeno whispered, his voice distorted, sounding like something almost inhuman. “What…what did you do to me?”

And then, Jeno heard the shouts of the attackers. They had followed him, closing in to finish what they started.

But they weren’t ready for what they found.

Jeno stood, the chains in his hands igniting with blistering heat. The Spirit of Vengeance surged within him, and with it came a single, overpowering urge: punish the guilty.

The attackers froze as he stepped forward, his skeletal face illuminated by the flickering flames. “You came for me,” Jeno growled, his voice echoing unnaturally. “Now you’ll burn for it.”

He lashed out with the chains, each strike searing through metal and flesh alike. The air was filled with screams as the flames consumed the saboteurs, leaving them scorched and broken. Vehicles erupted in explosions, sending shards of scrap flying through the air as the hellfire spread uncontrollably.

When the last of the attackers fell, Jeno stood motionless amidst the chaos, the flames dancing across his body slowly beginning to recede. The roar of the Spirit dimmed, leaving an oppressive silence in its wake.

And then he saw you.

The sight of your unconscious form lying so still on the ground sent a jolt through him. The fire in his chest flickered, replaced by an overwhelming horror. He dropped the chains and stumbled to your side, his skeletal hands trembling as he reached for you.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice raw and human once more. The flames that had raged across his body faded completely, leaving him kneeling in the dirt, cradling you as his normal face returned.

Tears stung his eyes as he pulled you close, his arms wrapping protectively around your limp body. The junkyard was silent again, save for the faint crackle of dying embers.

“What have I done?” Jeno whispered, his voice breaking as he pressed his forehead to yours. Even as the Rider, his mind. his heart. It all was still his. He couldn’t lose you.

The sound of distant sirens jolted him from his thoughts. He knew that if he stayed the two of you would be questioned. He gently lifted you onto the back of the fiery motorcycle, the flames reaching your body but leaving you unharmed. The bike seemed to growl beneath him, its power thrumming in his veins, and for the first time, Jeno felt a strange sense of control over the chaos.

With a sharp kick, the motorcycle roared forward, flames streaking behind it as Jeno sped off into the night. 

The steady beep of a heart monitor was the first thing you heard as you drifted back into consciousness. It was followed by the faint hum of fluorescent lights and the sterile, antiseptic smell of a hospital room. Your body felt heavy, and when you tried to shift, a sharp pain lanced through your side.

“Easy,” a soft voice said.

Your eyes fluttered open to find Jeno sitting beside your bed, looking utterly wrecked. His black hoodie was rumpled, his knuckles bruised and scraped. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his normally cocky demeanor was nowhere to be found. Instead, he looked worried for once in his life, like he was afraid you might disappear if he blinked.

“Jeno.” you rasped, your throat dry. 

Relief flooded his face as he leaned forward, his hands gripping the edge of the bed. “You’re okay,” he breathed. “You’re okay.”

“Jeno.” you repeated again, your voice stronger now. 

He hesitated, guilt flickering across his face. “There was an accident at the show,” he began cautiously. “You…you got hurt. But you’re safe now. I got you out of there.”

The memories suddenly came rushing back. The flaming trucks, the explosion, the searing pain in your side. And then…nothing.

Your heart rate monitor began to beep faster as anger bubbled to the surface. “The show,” you said bitterly. “Of course. Because you just had to pull another one of your stunts.”

“Y/N, it wasn’t—”

“Don’t,” you cut him off, your voice sharp. “Don’t you dare try to defend yourself right now. I almost died, Jeno.”

His shoulders sagged, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I know,” he said quietly. “And I’m so sorry. If I could take it back—”

“But you can’t, can you?” you snapped, your hands pointed at him accusedly. “You can’t take it back, Jeno. Because this is what you do. You push and you push until someone gets hurt, and this time, that someone was me.”

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“That’s the problem,” you shot back. “You never mean for it to happen, but it always does. And I’m the one who has to pick up the broken pieces.”

Jeno flinched, like your words had physically struck him. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

You shook your head, tears stinging your eyes. “I can’t do this anymore, Jeno. I can’t keep watching you destroy yourself with drugs and alcohol, while dragging everyone else down with you.”

“I’m trying to change,” he said desperately, leaning forward. “I swear, Y/N. I’m done with all of it, the…everything. I’ll stop.”

“You always say that,” you muttered bitterly, turning your head away. “But nothing ever changes.”

The room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the faint beep of the heart monitor.

“I’ll make it right,” Jeno said after a long pause, his voice trembling. “I don’t know how yet, but I will. I promise.”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. The pain in your side was nothing compared to the ache in your chest. You couldn’t even bring yourself to look at him as he slowly stood and stepped back.

“I’ll let you rest,” he said quietly. “But…I’m not giving up on us, Y/N. I’ll prove to you that I can be better.”

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone in the sterile, too-quiet room.

Sometimes Jeno’s promises were often just as hollow as the man who made them.

The roar of the motorcycle echoed through the empty streets as it skidded to a halt in the middle of an empty alley. Jeno ripped off his helmet, his chest heaving as he stumbled away from the bike. The orange glow of his eyes dimmed, leaving him in the dim light of a flickering street lamp.

“What the hell is happening to me?” he muttered, running a hand through his damp hair. His reflection stared back at him in a cracked window—human again, but the memory of his skeletal visage haunted him.

This wasn’t the first night he’d changed. Every time he closed his eyes, he felt it—the fire in his veins, the overwhelming urge to hunt, to punish. It wasn’t just a feeling; it was a presence. Some demon was inside him, whispering in his mind, urging him to give in.

“They deserve to burn.”

The voice was deep and guttural. It slithered through his thoughts like a venomous snake, tightening its hold every time he tried to ignore it.

“I’m not listening to you,” Jeno growled, gripping his head as the voice chuckled darkly.

“You can’t silence me, Jeno. You’re mine now. We’re one.”

The demon never introduced itself. It didn’t need to. Jeno already knew as soon as he touched that damn motorcycle. Zarathos. The Spirit of Vengeance. The demon that had bound itself to his soul, using his body as a vessel.

Jeno clenched his fists, the faint glow of hellfire flickering across his knuckles. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. “I didn’t ask for this,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’m not a killer.”

“But you are a sinner,” Zarathos hissed. “And sinners punish sinners. The world is full of filth, and we will cleanse it.”

“No,” Jeno snapped, his voice echoing in the empty alley. “I’m not your executioner.”

The demon’s laughter rang in his head, low and mocking. “You say that now. But you felt it, didn’t you? The thrill? The power? The fire in your blood when you burned them? You enjoyed it.”

Jeno’s stomach churned at the memory of the attackers writhing in agony, the fire consuming them. He hadn’t wanted to hurt them—at least, not like that. But Zarathos was right about one thing: the power was intoxicating. And that terrified him.

He slammed his fist into the brick wall, leaving a charred dent in the crumbling stone. “You’re not in control,” he growled. “I am.”

“For now.”

By day, Jeno tried to maintain some semblance of normalcy. He performed his stunts, practiced at the arena, and plastered on a smile for his fans. But every time he climbed onto a bike, the fire inside him stirred, eager to be unleashed.

It was always worse at night.

Jeno stood on the rooftop of a dilapidated building, the city sprawled out below him like a labyrinth of shadows and flickering lights. The Spirit of Vengeance buzzed in his chest, pulling him toward something or someone.

He saw the scene before he heard it: a man in an alleyway, grabbing a young woman by the wrist. She screamed, struggling to pull away as the man loomed over her, a knife glinting in his hand.

Jeno’s vision blurred, his body moving on autopilot. The flames ignited before he even touched the bike, and when the Ghost Rider landed in the alley, the ground cracked beneath the weight of his fiery presence.

The man froze, his eyes wide with terror as the skeletal figure loomed over him. 

“You,” Jeno growled, his voice layered with Zarathos’ demonic timbre. “You prey on the innocent. What do you think you deserve?”

The man dropped the knife, stumbling backward. “I—I didn’t mean to—please, don’t hurt me!”

But the Spirit of Vengeance didn’t care for apologies. The chains in Jeno’s hands ignited, wrapping around the man and lifting him off the ground.

“Stop,” Jeno muttered, his human voice fighting to break through. “He’s not worth it.”

“He’s guilty,” Zarathos snarled. “And guilt demands punishment.”

The man screamed as the chains tightened, the hellfire scorching his skin. Jeno’s hands trembled, his skull burning brighter as he fought to regain control.

“He’s human,” Jeno argued. “I won’t kill him.”

The demon roared in frustration but relented, the chains loosening just enough to drop the man to the ground. The would-be attacker scrambled to his feet and ran, his screams fading into the distance.

Jeno stood in the alley, the flames around him slowly fading. He turned to the woman, who was staring at him with equal parts fear and gratitude.

“Go home,” he said gruffly, his voice still tinged with the Rider’s growl.

She nodded quickly, thanking him and disappearing into the night.

When the alley was silent again, Jeno collapsed against the wall, his human form returning. He buried his face in his hands, his body trembling.

“You see?” Zarathos sneered. “You can’t stop me forever. And soon, you won’t want to.”

Jeno closed his eyes, the weight of the demon’s presence pressing down on him. He didn’t know how long he could keep fighting. But for now, he had to try.

The neon glow of the gas station sign flickered in and out, bathing the parking lot in harsh, artificial light. Jeno leaned against his motorcycle, a half-empty bottle of whiskey in one hand and a cigarette in the other. His hoodie was pulled low over his face, but anyone who looked close enough would see the cracks in his façade—the trembling hands, the bloodshot eyes, the faint glow that threatened to seep from his skin if he let his guard down.

The whiskey burned his throat, but not nearly as much as the fire that roared in his chest every night. Zarathos was relentless, clawing at the edges of his sanity, and the only way Jeno could silence him was by drowning himself in the haze of alcohol and pills.

“Just a little longer,” he muttered to himself, taking another swig. “Just until I figure this out.”

The lie tasted bitter, but it was easier to believe than the truth. He was losing control.

The next morning, you found him slumped over in his garage, reeking of smoke and booze. You hadn’t heard from him since you were discharged from the hospital, so you wanted to at least check in on him. But you weren’t pleased with what you saw. So much for promising change. 

“Jeno,” you said sharply, crossing your arms as you stood in the doorway.

He stirred, groaning as he lifted his head. “Y/N? What are you doing here?”

“I should be asking you that,” you shot back. “Why aren’t you at practice? Or, I don’t know, trying to clean up your mess for once?”

He winced at your words, sitting up and rubbing his temples. “Not now, okay? I’ve got a headache that makes me want to kill myself right now.”

You scoffed, stepping closer and yanking the bottle out of his hand. “Are you serious right now? This is what you’re doing with your time? Drinking yourself into oblivion while I’m out here trying to recover from almost dying?”

“I’m trying to deal with it!” Jeno snapped, his voice louder than he intended. He stood, swaying slightly, his eyes bloodshot and tired. “You think this is easy for me? You think I don’t hate myself for what happened to you?”

“Then stop making it worse!” you shot back, your voice rising to match his. “You’re spiraling, Jeno, and you’re not fighting this addiction at all.”

“I didn’t ask for this!” he shouted, his voice cracking. 

The raw emotion in his tone caught you off guard, and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

Jeno exhaled shakily, running a hand through his messy hair. “I didn’t ask for any of this,” he said quietly. “But I’m trying. I swear I’m trying.”

You shook your head, your anger softening but not disappearing. “If this is your idea of trying, Jeno, then you’re failing.”

As you turned to leave, something stopped you. A memory from the news. Whispers of a “fiery skeleton” that had been spotted taking down criminals in the dead of night. You hesitated, glancing over your shoulder.

“Jeno,” you said cautiously. “You’ve been out a lot at night. You wouldn’t happen to know or run into that ‘fire guy’ people are talking about, would you?”

His entire body stiffened, his back turned to you. He didn’t answer right away, but the silence was damning. “...No.”

“Jeno,” you pressed, stepping closer. “What’s going on? What aren’t you telling me?”

“It’s nothing,” he muttered, his voice strained. “Just…forget about it, okay?”

But you didn’t believe him. Not for a second.

“Jeno,” you said again, your voice soft but firm. “Look at me.”

He didn’t move.

“Jeno, look at me,” you repeated, more insistent this time.

Finally, he turned, and for the briefest moment, you swore you saw it—a faint glow in his eyes, like embers dying out. Your stomach twisted, a mix of fear and concern swirling in your chest.

“What happened to you?” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Jeno shook his head, stepping back. “You don’t want to know,” he said quietly.

“Yes, I do,” you insisted. “I’ve known you my whole life, Jeno. I’ve stood by you through everything. Don’t shut me out now.”

But he just shook his head again, grabbing his helmet and heading for the door. “I can’t,” he said, his voice hollow. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving you alone in the dimly lit garage, more confused and worried than ever before.

So you needed a change of pace. If Jeno wanted to shut you out, then maybe you could use your time to focus on yourself more. 

You found yourself in your favorite cafe. The snug little store was warm, the scent of roasted coffee beans wrapping around you like a comforting hug. You were halfway through your drink, scrolling aimlessly on your phone, when the chair across from you was pulled out.

“Mind if I join you?”

You looked up, startled, to see a strikingly beautiful woman with an air of effortless confidence. Platinum blonde hair framed her sharp, elegant features, and her icy blue eyes sparkled with curiosity. Her tailored white coat and knee-high boots screamed sophistication, making you suddenly self-conscious of the oversized hoodie and jeans you’d thrown on.

“Uh…sure?” you replied hesitantly, gesturing to the chair.

She smiled, setting down her drink with precision. “I hope I’m not intruding. You looked like you could use some company.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Do I?”

She tilted her head, studying you like you were an interesting puzzle. “Call it intuition.”

“I guess you’re not wrong,” you admitted, leaning back in your chair. “It’s been…a rough few weeks.”

“I’m Karina,” she said smoothly, extending a hand.

“Y/N,” you replied, shaking it. Her grip was cool and firm, her smile almost too perfect.

“So, Y/N,” Karina said, resting her chin on her hand. “What’s been weighing on you? I’m a great listener.”

You hesitated. Something about her was disarming, almost magnetic. Before you could stop yourself, the words started spilling out. “It’s…complicated. Let’s just say someone I care about is making it really hard to keep caring about them.”

Karina nodded sympathetically, her expression never wavering. “The burden of loyalty. It’s a heavy one, isn’t it? Is this about a man?”

“Yeah,” you said, surprised by how much her words resonated. “I’ve known him forever, but lately…I don’t even recognize him anymore. He’s hiding something, and it’s tearing us apart.”

Karina sipped her drink, her gaze never leaving yours. “Sometimes, people hide because they’re afraid. Afraid of being judged, or rejected. But that doesn’t excuse them from the hurt they cause.”

You blinked, caught off guard by how accurately she’d summed up your feelings. “Exactly,” you said quietly.

“I know it’s not my place,” Karina continued, her tone gentle, “but maybe you need to take a step back. Focus on yourself for a while. You can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.”

Her harsh words settled over you, surprised at her directness. But it was comforting to hear such honesty for once.

“I was thinking of it, but I don’t want to lose him either.” you admitted.

Karina’s smile widened just a fraction. “Well, if you ever need someone to talk to, other than him, I’m here.” She slid a sleek, white business card across the table. “Call me anytime.”

You picked up the card, turning it over in your hands. There was no title, no address—just her name and a number embossed in silver.

“Thanks,” you said, tucking it into your pocket.

“Don’t mention it,” Karina said, standing gracefully. “Take care of yourself, Y/N. You deserve it.”

Over the next few days, Karina became a fixture in your life. She’d text you to check in, send little messages of encouragement, and even invite you out for coffee or dinner.

At first, you were wary. People didn’t just waltz into your life like this without a reason. But Karina was warm, attentive, and had an uncanny ability to say exactly what you needed to hear. Plus, she was looking for friends in the city too since she had just moved here. 

“So, what’s the full deal with this guy?” she asked one evening over dinner, sipping a glass of wine. “The one who’s been giving you all this grief.”

“His name is Lee Jeno,” you said reluctantly. “He’s my…well, we’ve been friends since we were kids. But he’s got issues. Big ones.”

“Oh damn. The stunt biker guy.” Karina raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Issues like ‘he forgot your birthday,’ or issues like ‘he’s a raging alcoholic or drug addict or some other addiction’?”

You laughed, though it was tinged with unease. “Closer to the second one, honestly. Well, he’s always struggled with it. Yet, he’s been acting so weird lately. Disappearing at night, avoiding my questions. And sometimes, when I look at him, it’s like he’s not even Jeno anymore.”

Karina leaned forward, her expression unreadable. “And you’re sure it’s just him trying to hide his addiction? Nothing…bigger going on?”

The question caught you off guard. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, nothing,” Karina said breezily, waving a hand. “Just that sometimes, people go through changes. Big changes. Ones they don’t know how to explain. And sometimes, it takes someone else to help them see their true potential.”

You frowned, her words stirring something deep inside you. “I don’t know. Jeno’s not exactly the ‘ask for help’ type.”

Karina’s smile turned enigmatic, her blue eyes practically glowing. “Maybe not. But some people just need the right nudge. And who better to do that than you?”

There was something in her tone, something that made your skin prickle. But before you could dwell on it, Karina raised her glass in a toast.

“To new beginnings,” she said, her voice smooth as silk.

You hesitated, then clinked your glass against hers. “To new beginnings.”

As you drank, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Karina knew more about your life and Jeno’s than maybe she was letting on.

The opulent room was bathed in shadows, the flickering light of a chandelier casting jagged shapes on the polished mahogany walls. Karina stood at the center of the large, round table, her white ensemble a stark contrast against the room’s dark and decadent decor. Around her sat the upper echelon of the Hellfire Club, an underground organization of mutants with a reputation for ruthlessness and manipulation.

“Karina,” a deep, commanding voice said, breaking the silence. It belonged to the Black King, the leader of the group, whose piercing gaze bore into her. “My dearest White Queen. You’ve been unusually proactive lately. Care to share what’s captured your attention?”

Karina smiled coolly, folding her hands in front of her. “I’ve found something—or rather, someone—of immense potential.”

The Black Queen, a woman with sharp features and an even sharper tongue, leaned forward with an arched brow. “Do tell. Potential isn’t exactly rare these days. Why is this someone worth our time?”

Karina stepped closer to the table, her heels clicking against the marble floor. “Her name is Y/N. She’s a baseline human. Or so she thinks. She’s yet to manifest her mutant abilities.”

She paused, letting the words sink in before continuing. “Her energy is…raw, untapped, but powerful. I’ve felt it. It’s dormant now, but when it awakens, it will rival even the strongest of us. I’m surprised it’s taking her so long to manifest, but that’s what makes it so powerful.”

The Black King steepled his fingers, his expression unreadable. “And what makes you so certain she’s worth the effort? If her powers haven’t manifested yet, there’s no guarantee they ever will.”

Karina tilted her head, a hint of amusement in her smile. “Oh, they will. I’ve already seen the signs—subtle as they are. Her emotions are volatile, and she’s drawn to chaos like a moth to flame. It’s only a matter of time before the spark ignites.”

The Black Queen’s lips curved into a smirk. “Interesting. And what do you propose we do with her once this ‘spark’ ignites?”

Karina’s smile turned predatory, her blue eyes gleaming. “We guide her. Shape her. I’m sensing some crazy electrical forces. Imagine what we could accomplish with her power under our control.”

“And if she refuses?” the Black King asked, his tone cold and measured.

Karina’s expression didn’t falter. “Then we ensure she has no choice. After all, loyalty is just another form of control. And I’ve already begun earning hers.”

A murmur rippled through the room as the other members exchanged intrigued glances.

The Black King leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Karina. But if you can deliver on your promises, the rewards will be worth the risk.”

“I always deliver,” Karina said smoothly.

The Black Queen raised her glass, the golden liquid catching the light. “Then here’s to your little pet project. Let’s hope she’s everything you claim she is.”

Karina raised her own glass in return, her smile never wavering. 

“Oh, she will be.”

Jeno stood outside the café, arms crossed and jaw tight as he watched through the window. There you were, sitting across from Karina again, laughing at something she’d said. The way you leaned in, the way she smiled that calculated, flawless smile—it all set his teeth on edge.

He clenched his fists, the faint flicker of flames threatening to ignite beneath his skin. Zarathos stirred in the back of his mind, growling low like an animal sensing danger.

“She’s not who she seems,” the demon whispered, its voice grating like embers crackling.

Jeno didn’t need Zarathos to tell him that. He’d felt it the moment he’d laid eyes on Karina. Something about her was too perfect, too polished. And the way she’d latched onto you so quickly? It wasn’t right.

He waited until Karina had left before stepping inside. You looked up, surprised to see him, but your expression quickly shifted to irritation.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, your tone defensive.

Jeno didn’t answer right away, pulling up a chair and sitting across from you. His leather jacket creaked as he leaned forward, his dark eyes searching yours. “We need to talk.”

You sighed, already bracing yourself. “If this is about Karina—”

“It is about her,” he cut in, his voice firm. “Y/N, you don’t know her. Not really.”

“And you do?” you shot back, crossing your arms.

“I don’t need to,” he said, his tone rising. “Something about her is off. I can feel it.”

You rolled your eyes, exasperated. “Oh, great. Now we’re relying on your ‘feelings’ to judge people? Like your intuition ever worked in the first place. I’m lucky to be alive right now.”

Jeno’s jaw tightened. “I’m serious, Y/N. She’s not who she says she is. People don’t just waltz into your life and start playing therapist out of the goodness of their hearts.”

“Maybe she actually cares,” you snapped. “Unlike someone who disappears for days at a time without a word and comes back smelling like smoke and regret.”

Jeno flinched at your words, but he pushed forward. “I’m not perfect, okay? But I know when someone’s trouble. And Karina? She’s got ‘trouble’ written all over her.”

“Why do you even care?” you demanded, your voice rising. “You don’t get to swoop in and play the hero after everything that’s happened. I don’t need your permission to make new friends.”

Jeno looked at you, his expression a mix of frustration and something softer—hurt, maybe. “I care because I don’t want you to get hurt. Again.”

For a moment, you almost softened. Almost.

But then you thought about Karina. How she listened, how she didn’t judge you, how she made you feel seen in a way Jeno hadn’t in months.

“You don’t get to tell me who I can and can’t trust,” you said coldly. “Karina’s been more of a friend to me lately than you have.”

Jeno stared at you, his lips pressed into a thin line. “You’re making a mistake,” he said quietly.

“Then it’s my mistake to make,” you shot back.

He stood, his chair scraping against the floor as he shoved it back. “Fine,” he muttered, turning to leave. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Later that evening, you met Karina at her apartment. A sleek, modern space with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city. God, you were poor as hell. She greeted you with a warm smile, handing you a glass of wine as you settled onto her plush couch.

“You seem tense,” she noted, sitting gracefully across from you.

“Just had another fight with Jeno,” you admitted, swirling the wine in your glass. “He’s convinced you’re some kind of…villain or something.”

Karina chuckled, the sound light and melodic. “He doesn’t trust me?”

“Not even a little,” you said, shaking your head. “It’s like he’s looking for reasons to push me away.”

Karina reached out, placing a hand over yours. Her touch was cool and comforting. “Sometimes people lash out because they’re afraid. Fear can make them see threats where there are none.”

You sighed, leaning back. “I just don’t get it. Why can’t he see that you’re trying to help me?”

Karina’s expression softened, but there was a flicker of something behind her eyes—something calculated. “It’s because he doesn’t understand you the way I do. You’re special, Y/N. More than you realize.”

You frowned, her words catching you off guard. “Special? What do you mean?”

Karina smiled enigmatically, her fingers brushing against yours. “You’ll see. In time.”

Her words left a lingering unease in your chest, but you pushed it aside. Karina had been nothing but kind to you. Jeno didn’t know what he was talking about.

Jeno leaned against the wall of his garage, staring blankly at the ground. Zarathos growled in the back of his mind, restless and impatient.

“You should have burned her,” the demon hissed.

Jeno closed his eyes, his hands balling into fists. “Shut up.”

“She’s manipulating her. The girl you care for. Can’t you feel it?”

Jeno’s jaw clenched. He didn’t need Zarathos to tell him that. But what could he do? You weren’t listening to him, and every time he tried to warn you, it only pushed you further away.

“Then stop warning her,” Zarathos said, his voice low and menacing. “And show her what that woman truly is.”

Jeno opened his eyes, the flames flickering faintly in his irises. For once, he found himself agreeing with the demon. 

“You’re finally listening,” Zarathos hissed, its voice echoing in Jeno’s head.

“Don’t get used to it,” Jeno muttered, gripping the handlebars of the bike. “I didn’t ask for you, and I’m not letting you run the show.”

The Spirit of Vengeance laughed, a dark, grating sound that sent chills down Jeno’s spine. “You think you can control me, boy? You’re nothing without me.”

Jeno scowled, the flames creeping up his arms flaring brighter in response to his frustration. “You don’t get it, do you? I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this for her.”

“Ah, the girl,” Zarathos sneered. “You think she’ll forgive you? That she’ll see you as anything but a monster?”

“She will,” Jeno said firmly, his voice steady despite the doubt gnawing at him. “But first, I need to figure out how to use this…whatever this is.”

Zarathos growled. “Vengeance isn’t a tool, boy. It’s a purpose. A fire that consumes everything in its path.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not here to burn the world down,” Jeno snapped. “I’m here to protect it.”

The Spirit laughed again, its voice dripping with disdain. “We’ll see how long that lasts.”

Determined to understand his new abilities, Jeno spent every spare moment testing the limits of his powers. He discovered that the flames responded to his emotions, roaring to life when he was angry or scared and flickering out when he calmed himself.

One night, he stood in the middle of an abandoned road, the cursed motorcycle idling beside him. He took a deep breath, focusing on the growing warmth in his chest, and held out his hand. A whip of fire erupted from his palm, coiling and snapping like a living thing.

“Not bad,” he muttered to himself, extinguishing the whip with a flick of his wrist.

But every small victory was overshadowed by the constant presence of Zarathos. The Spirit’s voice was a relentless whisper in his mind, urging him to give in, to embrace the fire and let it consume him.

“Why fight it?” Zarathos taunted. “You’ve felt it, haven’t you? The power. The thrill.”

Jeno ignored the voice, climbing onto the motorcycle and revving the engine. The flames along its frame flared to life, illuminating the darkness around him.

“I’m not your puppet,” he muttered, tightening his grip on the handlebars.

“We’ll see,” the Spirit replied, its laughter echoing in his ears as he sped down the road.

One evening, while patrolling the outskirts of town, Jeno stumbled upon a group of men mugging an elderly woman in an alley. His first instinct was to intervene, but as the flames began to crawl up his arms, Zarathos’ voice returned, stronger than ever.

“Punish them,” it hissed. “Make them suffer.”

Jeno hesitated, his heart pounding. The men turned to face him, their eyes widening in fear as they took in his glowing eyes and the flames licking at his jacket.

“Hey, man, we don’t want any trouble,” one of them stammered, backing away.

Jeno clenched his fists, the fire burning hotter. Zarathos was screaming in his mind now, urging him to unleash his fury.

“They deserve it!” the Spirit roared. “They’re guilty!”

But as Jeno looked at the terrified men, he saw something else—fear. Regret. They weren’t innocent, but they weren’t beyond saving, either.

“No,” Jeno said aloud, his voice steady. “Not like this.”

He extinguished the flames, stepping forward and forcing the men to flee with nothing more than his presence. The elderly woman thanked him tearfully, but as he walked away, the weight of Zarathos’ disapproval settled over him like a storm cloud.

“You’re weak,” the Spirit snarled. “One day, you’ll see. Mercy has no place in vengeance.”

“Maybe not,” Jeno muttered, mounting his motorcycle. “But I’m not just vengeance. I’m also me.”

The more Jeno used his powers, the more he began to notice strange connections—patterns he couldn’t ignore. The criminals he encountered often mentioned a name in hushed tones: Karina.

One night, he followed a lead to an abandoned warehouse, where he found a cache of high-tech weapons and equipment. The markings on the crates were unmistakable. This wasn’t ordinary crime.

“She’s not just some innocent bystander,” Jeno muttered, running a hand through his hair.

“You’re finally catching on,” Zarathos sneered. “She’s more dangerous than you know. And she has her sights set on your girl.”

Jeno’s heart sank. He didn’t want to believe it, but the evidence was piling up. Karina wasn’t who she seemed, and if she was connected to you, that meant you were in more danger than you realized.

He revved his motorcycle, the flames roaring to life. “Not on my watch,” he muttered, speeding off into the night.

The fire burned hotter now, fueled by a new determination. Jeno wasn’t just fighting to control the Spirit of Vengeance anymore. He was fighting to save you.

You sat in Karina’s sleek, modern apartment, the dim lighting casting long shadows on the pristine walls. A strange tension filled the room. Karina’s usually serene demeanor had shifted; there was an intensity in her gaze, something calculating behind her sharp blue eyes.

“You’ve felt it, haven’t you?” Karina asked, her voice soft yet commanding.

“Felt what?” you asked, frowning as you set your cup of tea on the table.

“That spark,” she said, leaning forward, her fingers steepled beneath her chin. “The moments when your emotions run high—fear, anger, pain—and something stirs inside you. Something you can’t explain.”

You blinked, your pulse quickening. You had felt something—fleeting moments of electric energy coursing through your body, like static building up but never quite releasing. But you’d written it off as stress or adrenaline.

“How do you know about that?” you asked warily.

Karina smiled, a knowing, almost maternal expression crossing her face. “Because I’ve seen it before. I know what you are, Y/N.”

Your throat tightened. “What I am? You make it sound like I’m not a human.”

“You’re not just human,” she said, her tone dripping with certainty. “You’re a mutant.”

The word hung in the air, heavy and charged. You stared at her, the weight of her statement pressing down on you. “That’s not… I’m not…”

“You are,” Karina interrupted gently. “It’s why you’ve always felt different, why strange things happen around you when you’re upset. It’s your gift, Y/N. Your power.”

Your mind raced, flashes of unexplained incidents from your past bubbling to the surface: the lights flickering during arguments, the faint hum of electricity in your veins when you were scared. 

A mutant? But mutants were both feared and loved by society. Oh god, what would Jeno think?

“I… I don’t know what to say,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Karina reached out, placing a hand on yours. “You don’t have to say anything. I know how overwhelming this must be, but you’re not alone. You don’t have to go through this by yourself.”

You looked up at her, tears pricking your eyes. “What am I supposed to do? I don’t even know how to control it.”

“That’s where I come in,” Karina said smoothly. “I can help you. I’ve been where you are, Y/N. I know what it’s like to feel lost, to feel like the world doesn’t understand you. But I do.”

Her words were like a lifeline, and for a moment, you felt a flicker of hope. But then a small voice in the back of your mind—Jeno’s voice—echoed faintly: She’s not who she says she is.

You shook your head, brushing the thought away. Karina had been nothing but kind to you. Jeno didn’t understand.

Karina led you into a hidden room within her apartment, the walls lined with advanced tech and holographic screens displaying maps, dossiers, and data that you couldn’t begin to comprehend.

“What is all this?” you asked, glancing around in awe.

“This,” Karina said, gesturing to the room with a flourish, “is part of something much bigger. A movement, if you will. The Hellfire Club.”

You turned to her, confusion etched across your face. “The Hellfire Club? What is that?”

“We’re an organization dedicated to ensuring mutantkind rises to its rightful place in the world,” Karina explained, her voice laced with passion. “For too long, mutants have been oppressed, hunted, and treated as less than human. But we’re done hiding. We’re done being afraid.”

Her words stirred something in you—a mix of fear and curiosity. “What does this have to do with me?”

Karina stepped closer, her gaze piercing. “Everything. Your powers, Y/N—they’re extraordinary. Once they’re fully awakened, you’ll be capable of things most mutants can only dream of. But you need guidance. Training. And that’s what I’m offering you.”

You swallowed hard, your mind spinning. “I don’t know if I can do this. I didn’t ask for any of this.”

“None of us did,” Karina said, her voice softening. “But we don’t get to choose what we are. We can only choose how we use it. And you, Y/N, have the potential to change everything.”

She paused, letting her words sink in before adding, “But to do that, you have to let go of your fear. You have to embrace who you are. And you have to trust me.”

There was something magnetic about her, something that made you want to believe every word she said. But deep down, a seed of doubt began to take root.

“What’s the catch?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

Karina smiled, her expression unreadable. “No catch, my dear. Only the promise of a future where you can be free—where we can all be free.”

You hesitated, torn between the comfort of her words and the nagging feeling in your gut. “I need time to think.”

“Of course,” Karina said smoothly. “Take all the time you need. But remember, Y/N. Your power is a gift. Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.”

As you left her apartment that night, your mind was a whirlwind of emotions. You wanted to believe her, to trust her, but something about her intensity unsettled you.

And as you walked into the cool night air, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were standing at the edge of something much larger and much more dangerous than you’d ever imagined.

Jeno sat on the curb outside your apartment, his head in his hands, shoulders slumped under the weight of exhaustion and regret. His jacket was torn, his knuckles bloodied from a fight he barely remembered, and the faint smell of whiskey lingered on his breath. He stared blankly at the empty bottle in his lap, the flames of his inner turmoil simmering just beneath the surface. The night was quiet, the kind of stillness that made his thoughts louder, more unbearable.

When you stepped outside, startled to find him there in the dead of night, his eyes met yours. They were glassy, but not from the alcohol. There was something raw and vulnerable in them, something you hadn’t seen in a long time. For a moment, you hesitated, unsure whether to approach him or turn back inside. But the sight of him—broken, disheveled, and so unlike the confident Jeno you’d always known—pulled you forward.

“Jeno?” you said cautiously, stepping closer. The cold night air bit at your skin, but the tension between you was far more chilling.

He looked up, his eyes hollow yet filled with a desperation that made your chest tighten. “Y/N,” he croaked, his voice hoarse. He stood, swaying slightly, as if the weight of the world was pressing down on him. “I—I needed to see you.”

Your heart clenched at the sight of him. He looked like a ghost of the man you once knew, his charm buried beneath layers of pain and self-destruction. “It’s the middle of the night,” you said, crossing your arms, trying to shield yourself from the emotions threatening to spill over. “You can’t just show up like this.”

“I know,” he said, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “I know I’m a mess. But I—” He paused, his voice cracking. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

You frowned, torn between frustration and concern. “What do you mean?”

Jeno’s hands trembled as he gripped the bottle tighter, then hurled it across the street. It shattered against the pavement, the sound cutting through the stillness like a scream. “This!” he shouted, gesturing wildly to himself. “I’m losing control, Y/N! Of everything. Of my powers. Of… of me.”

You stepped back, startled by the outburst. “Jeno, calm down—”

“I can’t!” he yelled, his voice breaking. “I’ve tried. God, I’ve tried. But it’s like I’m fighting this thing inside me, and I don’t know how much longer I can keep it at bay.”

His hands ignited for a split second, flames licking at his skin before fizzling out. You froze, your breath catching in your throat. The sight of the fire—real, tangible fire—coming from his hands was impossible to process. Your mind raced, trying to make sense of what you’d just seen. “Jeno… what was that?” you whispered, your voice trembling.

He clenched his fists, shaking his head as if trying to push the Spirit’s voice out of his mind. “It’s me,” he said bitterly. “Or… it’s not me. I don’t even know anymore.” He looked at you, his eyes filled with a mix of fear and shame. “I’m not just some messed-up stunt rider, Y/N. I’m… I’m the Ghost Rider.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and surreal. Your mind reeled, struggling to reconcile the Jeno you knew with the stories you’d heard about the fiery vigilante haunting the city. “The Ghost Rider?” you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper. “That’s… that’s impossible.”

“I wish it was,” he said, his voice hollow. “But it’s real. The flames, the power, the voice in my head—it’s all real. And it’s killing me, Y/N. Every time I transform, it feels like I’m burning from the inside out. And the things I’ve done… the people I’ve hurt…” He trailed off, his hands shaking as he ran them through his hair again. “I’m a monster.”

Your heart ached at the pain in his voice, but the shock of his confession kept you rooted to the spot. “Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked, your voice rising. “All this time, you’ve been dealing with this alone, and you didn’t think to tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want you to see me like this!” he shouted, his voice cracking. “I didn’t want you to look at me and see a monster. You’re the one person who still sees something good in me, and I couldn’t risk losing that.”

Tears welled in your eyes as his words hit you. “Jeno, you don’t have to do this alone. You don’t have to carry this by yourself.”

“And then there’s you,” he said, his voice softer now, filled with anguish. “You’re the one thing. The only thing that makes me want to be better. But I’m screwing that up too, aren’t I?”

“Jeno…” You didn’t know what to say, the weight of his words leaving you stunned. Your mind was a whirlwind of emotions. Shock, fear, anger, and an overwhelming sadness for the man standing in front of you.

He stepped closer, his eyes searching yours desperately. “I can’t stand the thought of losing you. Not to her. Not to Karina.”

You stiffened at the mention of her name. “This again? Jeno, I told you—Karina’s helping me. She understands me in a way you don’t. She—”

“She’s using you!” Jeno snapped, his voice rising. “You think she cares about you? She’s manipulating you, Y/N. I’ve seen it. I feel it.”

“You don’t know her,” you shot back, anger flaring in your chest. “You don’t know what I’ve been through or what it’s like to feel so out of control. Karina does.”

“And I don’t?” Jeno asked bitterly. “I’ve been out of control my whole damn life. But I’m trying, Y/N. I’m trying because of you.”

His voice cracked on the last word, and he ran a hand down his face, his composure crumbling. “I love you,” he said finally, his words barely audible. “I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. And I’ve been too much of a coward to say it until now.”

The confession hung in the air, heavy and charged. Your breath caught, your heart pounding in your chest. “Jeno… you can’t.” you began, your voice faltering. “That’s so unfair. You can’t fucking drop that on me?” 

He grabbed your hands, his touch warm despite the cold night air. “Please,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Please don’t trust her. Don’t let her pull you into whatever she’s planning. I can’t lose you to her.”

You pulled your hands away, your heart twisting painfully in your chest. “You don’t understand, Jeno. I’m finally starting to figure out who I am, and Karina is helping me. I can’t just walk away from that.”

“And what about me?” he asked, his voice breaking. “What about us?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, tears welling in your eyes. “I don’t know what I feel anymore.”

Jeno stared at you, his expression a mix of heartbreak and resignation. “You’ve already chosen her, haven’t you?”

You couldn’t answer. The silence between you was deafening, and when Jeno finally turned and walked away, the flames that had always surrounded him seemed smaller, dimmer.

The air inside the abandoned factory was thick with tension, the kind that made your skin prickle and your breath catch in your throat. The dim, flickering lights overhead cast long shadows across the rusted machinery and crumbling walls, creating an eerie backdrop for the confrontation you knew was coming. You stood frozen at the edge of the room, your heart pounding as you tried to steady your breathing. Your hands trembled at your sides, tiny sparks of electricity dancing between your fingers. You clenched your fists, trying to suppress the energy surging through you, but it was like holding back a tidal wave.

Karina stood at the center of the room, her white suit pristine despite the grime of the factory. Her diamond-shaped earrings caught the faint light, glinting like shards of ice. She watched you with a calculating gaze, her lips curled into a faint smirk. “You feel it, don’t you?” she said, her voice smooth and unnervingly calm. “The power inside you, begging to be unleashed. You don’t have to fight it, Y/N. Let it out.”

“Stop. Get out of my head.” you snapped, your voice shaking with a mix of fear and anger. 

Her smirk widened. “Darling, you can barely control your own abilities. I’m just helping you clear your mind. To help you relax. ”

Before you could respond, a deafening roar tore through the silence. The factory doors exploded inward, shards of metal and wood scattering across the floor. Flames erupted in the doorway, and through the inferno, Jeno emerged on his motorcycle, the Ghost Rider in full form. His flaming skull cast an ominous glow across the room, and his chain dragged behind him, leaving scorch marks in its wake.

“Karina!” Jeno’s voice was a guttural growl, distorted by the Spirit of Vengeance. “Step away from her.”

Karina turned toward him, her smirk never faltering. “Well, well,” she said, her tone dripping with mockery. “The Spirit of Vengeance finally decided to crash the party. How… predictable.”

You took a step forward, panic rising in your chest. “Jeno, don’t do this!”

He glanced at you briefly, his fiery gaze softening for just a moment. “Get out of here, Y/N. I don’t want you to see this.”

Karina laughed, a cold, melodic sound that sent a chill down your spine. “Oh, she’s not going anywhere. Not when she’s finally starting to understand her potential.”

Jeno’s flames roared brighter, his chain snapping taut in his hands. “You’re not laying a finger on her.”

Karina’s eyes glowed with a faint silver hue, her telepathic powers flaring to life. “I don’t need to lay a finger on her to destroy you, Jeno.”

The telepathic assault hit Jeno like a freight train. His flames flickered, dimming as he staggered back, clutching his skull. The Ghost Rider’s growl turned into a pained roar as Karina’s voice echoed in his mind, sharp and venomous.

“You’re a failure, Lee Jeno,” she hissed, her words cutting deeper than any physical blow. “A coward. A junkie. You think you can protect her? You couldn’t even protect yourself.”

Jeno dropped to his knees, his chain clattering to the ground. His fiery skull dimmed further, revealing glimpses of his human face beneath, twisted in agony. “No,” he muttered, his voice trembling. “No, I—”

Karina stepped closer, her voice dripping with venom. “You left her to die, Jeno. You’re the reason she almost bled out in that junkyard. And now you think you can save her from me? You’re pathetic.”

“Stop it!” you screamed, stepping forward. But an invisible barrier, a telekinetic shield, held you back. You slammed your fists against it, sparks of electricity crackling against the force field. “Let him go!”

Karina didn’t even glance at you, her focus entirely on Jeno. “You’re nothing without the Spirit of Vengeance. Just a broken man with nothing to offer.”

Jeno’s flames sputtered, his body trembling as he fought against her mental assault. But then, something snapped.

A surge of electricity exploded from your body, shattering Karina’s barrier and sending a shockwave through the room. The force of it knocked Karina back, her telepathic hold on Jeno breaking as she stumbled. Sparks danced along your skin, and the lights in the factory flickered wildly, casting the room in a chaotic strobe of light and shadow.

Karina’s calm façade cracked for the first time, her eyes narrowing as she stared at you. “What…?” she muttered, her voice tinged with disbelief.

You looked down at your hands, electricity arcing between your fingers. The buzzing energy in your veins was overwhelming but exhilarating, like you were finally alive for the first time. “I don’t know what you did to me,” you said, your voice trembling but firm. “But I’m done letting you manipulate me.”

Jeno rose to his feet, his flames roaring back to life as the Spirit of Vengeance surged within him. He turned to you, his fiery gaze filled with both awe and concern. “Y/N… your powers…”

You met his gaze, a flicker of resolve igniting in your chest. “We’ll figure it out later. Right now, we stop her. Together.”

Karina’s lips twisted into a scowl. “You think you can stop me? Both of you are just scared little children playing with powers you don’t understand.”

Her eyes glowed again as she prepared to strike, but this time, you were ready. Electricity coursed through your body as you raised your hand, sending a bolt of lightning toward her. Jeno’s chain ignited in flames as he lashed out, the Ghost Rider and your newfound powers colliding in a chaotic, electrified storm of fire and fury.

Sparks flew as your electricity surged wildly, ricocheting off metal beams and machinery, while flames from Jeno’s Ghost Rider form scorched the ground. The air was thick with smoke and the acrid smell of burning metal, the heat of the battle pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. Karina narrowly avoided both attacks.

You stood in the middle of it all, suddenly trembling as the power in your veins pulsed out of control, the air around you crackling with raw energy. Every breath felt like fire in your lungs, every heartbeat a thunderous drum in your ears.

“Jeno, stop!” you shouted, your voice breaking through the storm of noise. “I can’t— I can’t control it!”

“Y/N, get out of here!” Jeno growled, the hellfire in his skull burning brightly as he dodged a telepathic assault from Karina. His chain lashed out, the flames leaving a trail of fire as it whipped through the air. “I’ll handle her!”

“You can’t handle me, Rider,” Karina sneered, her diamond-covered hand catching the flames of Jeno’s chain and deflecting them with ease. The impact sent a shower of sparks cascading to the ground, illuminating her cold, calculating smirk. She twisted her body back to flesh, her eyes glowing as she aimed a telepathic blast toward you. “And neither can she.”

The attack hit you like a freight train, sending you stumbling backward. Your head throbbed as Karina’s voice echoed in your mind, sharp and venomous. You’re a danger to everyone around you, Y/N. Look at him. He’s already breaking because of you.

“No!” you shouted, gripping your head as electricity sparked uncontrollably from your body, burning holes in the ground. The pain was unbearable, a searing heat that threatened to consume you. “Get out of my head!”

Jeno roared, swinging his flaming chain toward Karina with a ferocity that shook the room. “Leave her alone!”

Karina turned to diamond just in time, the chain clashing against her hardened form with a deafening clang. The force of the impact sent a shockwave through the factory, shattering nearby windows and sending shards of glass raining down. Jeno pulled back and lashed out again, but the attacks only glanced off her unyielding body, leaving faint scorch marks on her diamond skin.

“You’re predictable,” Karina taunted, reverting back to her human form. Her voice dripped with malice as she stepped closer, her heels clicking against the cracked concrete. “And reckless.” Her eyes narrowed, her telepathic powers flaring as she struck again, this time targeting Jeno. Which is why you’ll never be enough for her.

Jeno froze, his flames flickering as the words hit him like a punch to the gut. The Ghost Rider’s growl faltered, his fiery skull dimming as Karina’s mental assault dug into his deepest insecurities. “I… I…” he stammered, his voice trembling.

Seeing her opening, Karina lunged, her diamond form shimmering into existence as she aimed a devastating punch at Jeno’s chest. The blow landed with a sickening crunch, sending him flying into a stack of metal crates. He hit the ground hard, the flames around him sputtering as he struggled to rise.

“Jeno!” you screamed, your voice raw with panic. Electricity surged through you, the power building to a dangerous level as your fear and anger took over. You raised your hands, the energy crackling wildly as you unleashed a massive bolt of lightning toward Karina.

She shifted to diamond just in time, the electricity ricocheting off her hardened form and striking a nearby generator. The explosion sent a wave of heat and debris crashing through the factory, the force of it knocking you off your feet. You hit the ground hard, the breath driven from your lungs as pain shot through your ribs.

Karina emerged from the smoke, her diamond form flickering as she reverted to flesh. A thin trail of blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, her once-pristine suit now torn and scorched. “You’re meddling in things you don’t understand, Y/N,” she hissed, her voice laced with frustration.

“And whose fault is that?” you shot back, electricity arcing dangerously around you. Your body ached, your vision blurred, but you forced yourself to stand. “You lied to me. You used me.”

“I gave you purpose!” Karina snapped, shifting back to her human form as she tried to invade your mind again. But you were ready this time.

The moment her telepathic influence touched you, your electricity surged outward in a massive wave, cutting off her connection. The lights in the factory exploded, plunging the room into flickering darkness lit only by Jeno’s flames and the electric blue glow of your powers. The air buzzed with energy, the tension so thick it felt like the room itself was holding its breath.

Jeno took advantage of the distraction, his chain wrapping around Karina’s leg and yanking her off her feet. She hit the ground with a sharp thud, immediately shifting to diamond to avoid his next attack. Jeno’s flames roared brighter as he swung his chain again, the fiery links crashing against her diamond form with enough force to send her skidding across the floor.

“You’re out of tricks, Karina!” Jeno snarled, his skull blazing with hellfire.

Karina smirked, standing slowly. “Am I?”

With a wave of her hand, she sent shards of diamond-like energy hurtling toward you. Jeno’s flames flared brighter as he leapt in front of you, the shards disintegrating against his burning form. But the force of the attack sent him staggering, his flames flickering as he struggled to stay upright.

“Y/N, focus!” he shouted, glancing over his shoulder at you. Blood dripped from a gash on his forehead, his human form flickering beneath the Ghost Rider’s flames. “You’ve got this. I know you do.”

You swallowed hard, your heart racing. The chaos of the battle overwhelmed you, but Jeno’s words anchored you, giving you the strength to push past the fear. Electricity sparked and crackled around you as you raised your hands, channeling the power into a focused current. The energy shot forward, slamming into Karina with enough force to send her flying into a pile of crates.

She staggered to her feet, her diamond form flickering as she struggled to maintain it. For the first time, she looked rattled, her breathing ragged and her movements slower, more deliberate.

“This isn’t over,” she hissed, her voice dripping with venom.

“We’ll see about that,” Jeno growled, flames flaring as he stepped forward.

You steadied yourself, your hands still sparking, ready for whatever came next. For the first time, you felt a glimmer of control over your powers. With Jeno by your side, you knew you wouldn’t back down.

Karina straightened, her diamond form flickering as she reverted to flesh. She held up a hand, her expression unreadable. “Enough,” she said, her voice quieter now, almost resigned. “I can’t keep this up forever.”

Jeno growled, his chain igniting in fiery protest as the Spirit of Vengeance pushed him to finish the fight. “You don’t get to walk away, Karina.”

But you stepped forward, placing a hand on his burning shoulder. “Jeno, wait,” you said, your voice firm but calm. “Let me handle this.”

Jeno’s skull turned slightly toward you, the flames in his sockets flickering with hesitation, but he relented, lowering his chain. “Fine. But don’t trust her.”

You turned to Karina, your chest heaving as you fought to steady the overwhelming power coursing through you. “Why are you doing this?” you asked, your voice trembling—not with fear, but with exhaustion and hurt. “You said you were helping me. Was it all a lie?”

Karina’s diamond form flickered briefly before she reverted fully to flesh and blood. For the first time, you saw something human in her eyes—regret, perhaps, or maybe doubt. She wiped a smudge of dirt from her cheek, straightening her posture.

“I didn’t lie,” she said, her voice softer now. “Not about everything. You do have incredible potential, Y/N. More than you realize. But… I didn’t approach you purely out of kindness.”

“Then why?” you demanded, the electricity around you sparking dangerously.

Karina hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Because I needed you. Your powers. For the Hellfire Club’s plans. You were… a means to an end.”

Your chest tightened at her words, but before the anger could take hold, she continued.

“But,” she said, glancing away, “it wasn’t all manipulation. I—” She paused, the unflappable Karina momentarily at a loss for words. “I enjoyed spending time with you, Y/N. You’re smart, kind… and you made me see things differently.”

“Differently?” you asked, your voice tinged with disbelief.

Karina met your gaze, her icy composure softening. “I’ve spent so much of my life doing what I thought was necessary—making hard decisions for the ‘greater good.’ But being around you… it reminded me of who I used to be, before all of this. Before I became... this.”

Jeno stepped closer, his flames dimming but still present. “If you’re having second thoughts, prove it. Walk away.”

Karina looked between you and Jeno, her expression conflicted. For a moment, you thought she might lash out again, but instead, she reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a pair of sleek, metallic gauntlets.

“Here,” she said, tossing them to you. You caught them instinctively, the cool metal humming faintly in your hands. “They’ll help you control your powers. Keep you from accidentally frying someone. I was supposed to give them to you after you joined us.”

You stared at the gauntlets, then back at her. “Then why are you giving me these now?”

Karina smiled faintly, a flicker of genuine warmth breaking through her usual cool demeanor. “Because I don’t want you to make the same mistakes I did. Power without control... it’ll destroy you. And I’d rather not see that happen.”

Jeno crossed his arms, his fiery gaze narrowing. “This doesn’t absolve you of everything you’ve done.”

“I know,” Karina said, her voice quiet. She turned to you, her expression serious. “If things get worse. Like if the Hellfire Club comes after you. Call me. I’ll help you.”

“Why?” you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop it.

Karina gave you a small, almost sad smile. “Because despite everything, I care about you, Y/N. More than I expected to.”

With that, she turned on her heel and began walking toward the factory’s exit.

“You’ll never stop looking over your shoulder if you go back to them,” Jeno called after her, his voice hard.

Karina paused at the doorway, glancing back over her shoulder. “Maybe,” she admitted. “But we don’t all get to ride off into the sunset with a gorgeous woman who can manipulate electricity by our side, do we, Rider?”

And then she was gone, disappearing into the night like a ghost.

You stood there, clutching the gauntlets tightly, your heart a storm of emotions. Jeno stepped closer, his flames dimming until they extinguished completely, leaving him in his human form.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice softer now.

You nodded, though you weren’t entirely sure if it was true. “I think so. For now.”

He gave you a small, tentative smile. “We’ll figure this out. Together.”

The factory was a wreck. The floors were scorched, the walls cracked from the battles you fought, and the lingering scent of burnt rubber and ozone filled the air. You and Jeno both stood in the aftermath, looking like a pair of survivors who had just stumbled out of a warzone—except, in your case, the war was against a woman who could turn into a diamond. And, you know, manipulate minds. No big deal.

You winced as you flexed your wrist, the burn from a stray blast still making your skin tingle. Glancing at Jeno, you noticed his own set of injuries: deep cuts across his arms and a nasty gash on his forehead, not to mention his previously pristine jacket now reduced to ash and scorched fabric. Classic Jeno, always wearing the most expensive thing in a junkyard brawl.

“Hey, so…” you began, shifting uncomfortably as you tried to ignore the awkward silence hanging between you two. “About all the… revelations tonight.”

Jeno shot you a sideways glance, and you could see the weight of everything that had happened sinking in. The Spirit of Vengeance had left him, so at least he wasn’t looking like a flaming skull for now, but you could still see the lingering guilt in his eyes. The man was a walking metaphor for a storm. Wild, unpredictable, and, apparently, in need of a good therapist.

“Yeah, you don’t say,” he muttered, rubbing his head. “So, uh, what now? Do we pretend that didn’t happen? Or is the whole ‘electricity-generating mutant’ thing a forever deal?”

You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow. “You think I just woke up one day and thought, ‘Hey, I’ll be a walking lightning rod for the rest of my life’?”

Jeno winced as he straightened up, his movements stiff. “No, I didn’t, but... you know. Seems like that’s exactly what’s happening.”

“Great. I’ll add it to my ‘What I Did Wrong Today’ list,” you muttered, feeling the familiar surge of frustration rise in you. But it wasn’t just at your powers. It was at the one thing you couldn’t quite shake off: Jeno.

You narrowed your eyes at him, your tone suddenly more serious. “And what about you, huh? Still think popping pills and riding a bike through fire is a good coping mechanism? Especially since you’re apparently made of fire now?”

Jeno flinched, and for a moment, it felt like the old Jeno was retreating back into his shell—the one he built to protect himself from all the things he couldn’t face. He kicked the ground, looking at his scuffed boots. “I didn’t— It’s just…” He sighed, unable to finish the sentence.

“Jeno,” you said, voice softer now. You placed a hand on his shoulder, though he didn’t meet your eyes. “I’m serious. If you want to stay in my life. If you really care about me at all. You need to get help. You can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

Jeno glanced up at you, his usually cocky demeanor replaced with something a little more vulnerable. “I know,” he said quietly. “I know I’ve messed up. And I promised you I’d get better. But—” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “You’re right. I don’t want to be that person anymore. I don’t want to lose you.”

You took a deep breath, your frustration dissipating just slightly. The old, familiar bond you shared was still there, tangled in with the new, raw emotions. You nodded, but added with a small, teasing smirk, “If you ever try to pop a pill in front of me again, I’ll use you as a lightning rod. Got it?”

Jeno gave a half-laugh, a lopsided grin tugging at his lips. “Got it. No more pills. Just the occasional dramatic motorcycle crash for old time’s sake.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s so much better,” you deadpanned. “But seriously, Jeno, I can’t help you if you don’t help yourself first. I won’t watch you burn up from the inside out.”

He met your gaze, the flicker of sincerity in his eyes making you pause. “I’ll try, Y/N. I swear. I’m tired of hurting myself—and you.”

You nodded again, feeling the weight of the conversation settle into your bones. “Good. And, uh, while we’re on the subject—if you ever want to not be on fire for five seconds, I’ve got these new gauntlets that could help with the whole ‘literal fire hazard’ thing. Maybe we should figure out how to duplicate them.”

Jeno’s eyes flicked to the gauntlets you were still holding, raising an eyebrow. “You think those are going to keep me from turning into a human torch?”

“Well, they won’t stop you from being a hot mess,” you quipped, “but they might help with the literal hot mess part. Try them on. See if they can cool you off. But give them back, I don’t wanna electrocute you later.”

Jeno chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re something else.” He pulled the gauntlets on with a shrug. They fit perfectly, “Better than getting burned alive, I guess.”

“That’s the spirit,” you said with a small smile. “See? We’re making progress.”

He gave a small, half-smile in return. “One step at a time.”

The first few days after the chaos in the factory felt like the world had hit the pause button. You were still grappling with the full weight of what had happened—the fight, Karina’s departure, and the truth about your powers. But more than that, you were trying to figure out how to not burn down the nearest building while you practiced controlling your mutant abilities.

Your bedroom had turned into an impromptu testing ground for your electrical powers, and you were starting to actually feel like a walking lightning rod now. The first time you accidentally zapped the toaster, you almost burned down the kitchen. It’s fine, you told yourself. I’ll just keep a fire extinguisher in every room.

"Okay, just breathe," you muttered, staring at the lamp in front of you. Your hands crackled with electrical energy. "Focus. You’re not going to fry this lamp into oblivion. You’ve got this."

The lamp flickered. Then, with a sudden snap, it exploded in a burst of light.

"Okay, maybe not. Plan B: Try not to set anything on fire this time," you groaned, rubbing your forehead. You glanced at the charred remnants of your lamp. Great. I’m a walking disaster.

Meanwhile, in the next room, Jeno was wrestling with his own set of issues. His recovery wasn’t as simple as just kicking a habit. It was as if his very soul had to unlearn years of reckless behavior and self-destruction. And while he was committed to getting better, you had a sneaking suspicion that his journey would involve more than a few missteps along the way.

You walked into the living room, where Jeno was sitting on the couch, staring at a glass of water like it held the answers to all of life’s problems.

"How’s it going, big guy?" you asked, leaning in the doorway.

Jeno glanced up and sighed dramatically. "I’m just sitting here, contemplating the universe. You know, the usual."

"Right. The deep, soul-searching kind of contemplation." You gave him a pointed look. "Or are you trying to convince yourself that water can’t be addictive?"

He shot you a dry look. "Very funny. But no, I’m actually just trying to make sure I don’t relapse into firing up my bike for no reason."

You raised an eyebrow. "And that’s going well, I assume?"

"Actually," he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender, "I’m being good. No fire, no bike stunts, just... boring old rehab."

"Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll find a way to be extra dramatic about it. It’s your brand."

Jeno smirked, the hint of his old self shining through. "Yeah, well, I’m trying to unbrand myself."

You chuckled. "Good luck with that. I’m pretty sure the Ghost Rider brand is hard to shake."

Jeno exhaled through his nose, rubbing his forehead. "I hate that name."

You threw your hands up. "What? It’s catchy!"

"Catchy? It sounds like I’m auditioning for a cheesy horror movie," he grumbled.

"But the cool demon guy gave you it."

Jeno gave you a playful glare. "And he wants me to exterminate every sinful person in this world, so is he really ‘cool’?"

You shrugged, smiling. "I’m just trying to make sure you don’t fall into your bad habits again. Humor is the only thing that gets me through this madness."

Jeno stared at you, a mix of amusement and sincerity on his face. "Thanks, Y/N. Really. I... I don’t know what I’d do without you."

You softened, though you couldn’t resist throwing in a final jab. "Probably set something on fire, knowing you."

"Don’t tempt me," Jeno warned with a grin.

"Okay, okay," you relented, holding up your hands. "I’ll stop. But hey, how about we both try and figure this out without burning anything down, deal?"

Jeno looked at you, a little more serious now. "Deal."

And so, you began this new chapter, with a growing sense of purpose. You and Jeno were both trying to reclaim control over your lives, and though it wasn’t easy, it was at least a little bit more bearable with each other’s help.

As for you, well, you still had a lot to learn about controlling your powers. But you figured you could start small, maybe with not blowing up your appliances. After all, if you could survive your own chaotic life, maybe saving the world wasn’t that far out of reach.

The night was cool, but the air still carried the buzz of the day’s chaos. The city sprawled out before you, lights flickering in the distance, the world oblivious to the storm that had just passed through. You and Jeno stood side by side in the parking lot, where the remnants of your battle and struggles were already fading into the distance.

Jeno’s bike sat next to you, the engine idling with that low growl that had always gotten your heart racing—before you knew all the trouble it would bring. You felt the familiar charge in the air as your hands crackled with electric energy, but it was different now. Controlled.

“Well, this is... weird,” you said, tapping the side of your gauntlets and watching the sparks dance around your fingertips.

Jeno shot you a sidelong glance, a mischievous smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah, you being the dangerous one now. What’s next? You’re gonna start taking over the world?"

You rolled your eyes. “World domination? Please. I’ll start with not burning down my apartment.”

Jeno gave you a knowing look. “One step at a time, right?”

He mounted his bike and revved the engine, the sound echoing through the empty streets. You followed suit, stepping onto the back of his bike with a practiced ease that only came from years of friendship—and more than a few questionable decisions. 

As Jeno revved the engine again, you looked at the skyline one last time, feeling the electric hum of your powers simmer beneath your skin.

"You know," Jeno said, breaking the silence as his hand gripped the handlebars tighter, "I think I’ve got a name for you."

You raised an eyebrow. "Oh, no. I’m not falling for this again."

"No, seriously. You need a name," he insisted, glancing at you with that same cocky grin. "Surge. It fits. You’ve got the whole ‘electricity’ vibe going on."

You stared at him for a moment, and then—after a deep, soul-searching pause—let out a dramatic sigh. “Surge? Seriously?”

“Yeah, it’s perfect,” he said with a shrug, clearly pleased with himself. "It’s got that ‘superhero’ ring to it."

You immediately shoved him lightly, making him almost lose his balance. "Shut up, Jeno. That’s the worst name I’ve ever heard."

“Come on, it’s not that bad!” he protested, his laughter echoing in the night. "Alright, alright, we’ll work on it. But you can’t deny it—Surge has a nice ring to it."

You shook your head, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. “Just drive, Jeno. You’re lucky I’m not zapping you off this bike right now.”

“Okay, okay, you win.” Jeno started the bike and, with a final glance toward the horizon, sped off into the night, the flames of his chain lighting up the road ahead.

The wind whipped through your hair, the flames of Ghost Rider and the crackling electricity of your powers illuminating the streets as you rode side by side. The world still had its dangers, but right now, the night felt endless. 

“Like would our ship name be Surge Rider or Ghur—”

“Shut the fuck up and drive.”

TAGLIST ↬ @lyvhie @aquaphoenixz @galacticnct @yizhrt @polarisjisung @multifandomania @spacejip @peterm4rker @viasdreams @mango-bear

[yandereunsolved]

Yandere Aegon with barkeep reader—you aren't getting paid enough for this.

cw(s): yandere themes & suggestiveness

Yandere Aegon always escaped to Fleabottom to indulge in pleasures and escape painful memories. The weight of the crown on his head nearly snapped his neck every time he was forced to wear it. Yet here, in Dragon Breaths Tavern, he was simply another stranger within the crowd of thousands. He always chose to conceal his appearance, but his voice was always what gave him away.

He has a favorite barkeep: you.

You always listen to his ramblings. You make sure he has somewhere to sleep when he is far too intoxicated to escape back to the castle. You're irritable and snap at people. It's hot. You never let anyone get away with anything in the bar, not even him. 

Mhm.

He'd whine your name in the middle of the night when his mind was far too gone to care about the possible consequence.

Yandere Aegon is incredibly talkative while drunk. His depression, or known at that time as just an incurable sadness, was on full display. He'd ask for your strongest drink and order so many that he forgot his name and title. It was almost endearing. He'd babble on about what made him sad, and you'd listen attentively.

You didn't have to worry much about people realizing he was the king. The ones that did disappeared. They were murdered, most likely.

You may have no formal education, but that doesn't make you completely inept.

You could see the unhinged glint in his violet irises. You could tell he was getting attached. You just couldn't do much about it. You need the job, and he never forgets to give you a hefty tip for your service.

Yandere Aegon has propositioned you on multiple occasions. Most of the time he's plastered, a handful he's not. He always gives you a sly smile and some fleeting touches. You scolding him only makes him want you more. He's hard more than he's drunk.

Whether you agreed to it or not, the only difference is time. If you love him, then you get your freedom just a bit longer. If you're stubborn about your love, then he'll make sure there are chains around your hands, ankles, and most importantly, heart.

Yandere Aegon makes you take a job in the castle. You become the cupbearer. It's a job that doesn't bring much excitement, unless you count pompous nobles talking through their asses 'excitement'. You make a good amount of coin. Your social status rises faster than a dragon taking to air.

Your own room. A room near Aegon's.

It is as if he purposefully thinned the walls, much to your displeasure. You can hear the moans from whores and Aegon alike during the hours when everyone is given rest. It's an endless torture that slips into your dreams, making them wetter than you've ever dreamt before.

Yandere Aegon has many people thinking it is inappropriate to have a commoner suddenly peak the king's interest so blatantly. You are no longer the dirt on the bottom of the nobility's shoe. You are almost equal, if not greater, due to the protection you are afforded by the ruler.

Rumors aren't needed. They will say their peace to your face. They don't fluff it up with their frivolously sacchariferous words. Those who dare are crude and ruthless.

The next day they'll end up with their heads on pikes outside the castle.

Yandere Aegon wants you as a second spouse. He fucks other whores, but only because he can't have you all day and night. He'll stop after the both of you get married. He knows it's a pipdream. He's the king, though.

Who is going to stop him?

It's not going to be Alicent or Otto.

He's not letting Aemond fucking touch you. Asshole tried to char him once. He got out with multiple scars, but he is able to walk and is still quite a looker. Aemond won't steal you. He'll the gut the fucker before it comes to that.

Yandere Aegon just needs alcohol and you. It's the only two things that're keeping him securely tethered to this world. Your specialty is alcohol. It's a match made in the heavens.

tags: ( @kawaiicoffeedream ) & ( @littybeech )

[queenofheartlessdreams]

Scorned Sympathy ( Aegon II Targaryen x Reader)

Fandom: House of the Dragon, Aegon II Targaryen x Fem! Hightower! Reader

Summary: Alicent Hightower's sister has always hated the King, and transversely, he has hated her back. But, that all changes after he returns from Rook's Rest.

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: none? I think, I don't know, its HOTD but mostly hurt/comfort and fluff

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They say that burns are a sacred death. The death of  dragon riders, honoring them among the living, and the dead. In his history lessons, Aegon had heard it was peaceful. Yes, there was supposed to be a screaming,  agonizing pain, but as flesh burned away, it took nerve endings with it, leaving them to feel nothing, numb. 

But Aegon hadn't been so lucky, he had only wished he had died back on the battlefield, died on impact of the flames. Then he wouldn't have had to suffer through spiraling to the ground, snapping his bones, or feel his armor being peeled away after it had merged with his flesh. He wouldn't have had to sleep nearly every hour of the day, waking up only to experience excruciating pain, relearning to walk when every step made him cry out in agony. 

The once comforting walls of his bedroom had turned into a torture chamber as he was forced to his feet by the Maesters, only to hobble around the confinements of those walls, good hand gripping the cane with enough force to drive splinters in his hands and cause his knuckles to turn white.

He cried out as the Maester pushed him into another step, holding him upright as best he could. Larys Strong stood in the patch of sunlight in the room, giving him an angelic halo, ironic as it was his devilish idea to make Aegon start walking so soon, only weeks after he had returned to the Red Keep.  

"Impressive," the club-footed man says, heads turning in his direction, "But I'm afraid you must work harder."

Aegon screams as Larys reaches around his other arm, cries of pain sounding like twisted laughter as together, they move him another step. Burned tissue stretched as they did, a blinding pain seeping through his barely-healed broken leg. 

The men pause in their persistence as the large bedroom doors swing open, silver-draped guards pushing them back to reveal the figure of Y/N, the youngest Hightower daughter. Her frame was draped in a long black gown, tied around her center with a golden chain that stopped several inches above the hem of her skirts. Long copper hair draped down her back, just as her eldest sister, yet that was where the similarities stopped. 

While Alicent was looked up to, a regal Queen of the realm, her sister had all but denounced her high-blood status, working in the streets as a herbalist, giving medicine to the poor, healing wounds, and delivering children. It wasn't until Viserys had died that Alicent welcomed her into the castle, for her protection, she had explained, though no man nor woman would dare to touch the 'witch'.

"Return the King to his bed, my Lords," the woman says, striding into the room, hands folded neatly in front of her gown. 

"The King must regain his strength, my Lady, he must practice," Lord Larys calls over his shoulder, dismissing her command.

Y/N smiles curtly at his defiance, "How would you like to disfigure your other foot, Lord Layrs?"

The man stops, struggling out from underneath the King's arm, "The King-"

"The King is too busy moaning in agony to give a shit about what you think," the woman interrupts, a boldness frowned upon in the castle, "Return him to bed, and leave us. I'm sure there are whispers to attend to."

Reluctantly, the Maester carries Aegon to his bed, allowing him to fall back onto the sanction of his covers. The Maester moves to lift the King's legs, despite his protests, earning a painful cry as they hit his sheets.

Vhisrya watches as the King rolls to his untainted side, arms curled up against his chest in defeat, body trembling as whimpers escape his scarred lips. The Maester exits quickly, Lord Larys slowly following, glaring at her with every step. It is only when she hears the large doors latch shut behind the men that she makes her way over to the King's bedside. He resembled a small child more than a man, curled around himself in loosely fitted clothes, eyes squeezed shut as his body shook.

He takes a ragged breath as he senses her presence beside him, eyes opening just the slightest to glare at the black-clothed woman, "Come to finish me off, witch?"

The witch makes no remark against him, only motioning for the boy to sit upright in the bed. He does so, grunting in pain, bracing himself on his good arm as he slides up to prop his back against the headboard. 

Y/N makes note of his trembling hands, the way he still insisted on putting up a bitter front despite not being able to move even a foot without collapsing in pain. It reminded her of his father. 

Regardless, she reaches for the buttons of his nightgown, pulling them apart hastily till his chest was exposed. Blistering red wounds stretched across the expanse of his left side, charred and black in some places, while in others, the skin had been cut away in jagged marks from separating melted armor from the King's flesh. 

"What-what are you doing?" Aegon trembles, fear lacing his voice. 

The woman's eyes move from his chest, to his face. He watched as they drifted from his swollen eyelid, to the top of his head, where silvery-blonde hair parted from vibrant burns, to where his ear once was, reduced now to a small lump that opened into his eardrum. He knew it was hideous, he wouldn't lie to himself, trying to persuade his own mind that he was still the beautiful boy the kingdom worshiped. He knew that if he healed, he couldn't even be seen in a pleasure house, not even the whores wanting to be fucked by a monster such as himself.

"Your grace?"

A soft voice draws him out of his own mind, one that was nearly unrecognizable coming from the woman beside him, "I have an ointment, one that should assist in healing your burns. But, I require you to remove your sleeves."

"Can't", Aegon grunts, talking becoming an exhaustion.

"I can assist you," the woman cooes, dragging the soiled fabric down his good arm first.

Aegon whimpers as her hand moves to his burned side, gently peeling the fabric from his neck, then down his shoulder, drawing near his bicep. He could feel the fabric stick to his skin, the pus that leaked from his wounds drying, attaching itself to the coarse fabric.

"I'm going to lift your arm," the woman says, earning a series of pleading "no"'s as she does.

The prince groans in pain, feeling the blistering skin stretch, muscle burning as she peeled the fabric away from his body, letting it pool around his waist.

Y/N could see the King's murderous gaze as she finished, pulling his arm back immediately, heavy breaths filling his chest, followed by shaking exhales. 

She makes haste, placing a mortar on the nearby table, filling it with oils and herbs, grinding it till the scent fills the room, overwhelmed by lavender. The King watches as she pulls a small vial from the pocket of her dress, opening it to reveal a nearly clear, thick liquid.

"What is that?" the King asks, the filth of his mind overpowering common sense.

Y/N looks back to the burned man, unaware he was watching her, "It's dragon saliva. Something in it prevents the dragons from being burned when they breathe fire, and proves itself to assist the healing process quicker than the Maester's brew alone. It only took me so long to bring it to you as your brother won't let me near his dragon, Sunfyre has not returned from Rook's Rest, and Helaena won't speak to me as she thinks I had something to do with your son's beheading."

Her last words come out as an aggravated shout, making the boy flinch. With a deep breath, she regains herself, carrying the mortar to his bedside, black dress fanning out on the sheets beside him, "I apologize, your Grace. You all think of me as some plague here to ruin the sanction of your home, yet Alicent refuses to let me leave the castle walls."

It was strange, hearing his mother's name be used so plainly, everyone else referred to her as the Queen, even Aemond and him referred to her as  "your Grace". 

Aegon clears this throat as the woman begins to spread the paste across his chest. It burned at first, but not to the level of the Maester's concoction. Perhaps dragon saliva was the key.

"She believes you would flee to Rhaenyra, aid her conquest for the crown," he grunts, intently gazing at the greenish mixture spread across his skin.

"And she is right," Y/N states plainly, "Rhaenyra is the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, and you have usurped her crown."

"I could have your head for that," Aegon jokes, a faint smile, one of the first since he had returned, spreading across his lips. 

The woman smiles back, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she continues to coat his torso, " I could have already had yours."

"Why haven't you, then?"

The hand that holds the brush hesitates, as Y/N searches for an answer. In all honesty, she has had many opportunities to kill the man, yet the thought never truly crossed her mind. She takes a deep breath before continuing her strokes, "You may be a monster- the sins you have committed are so terrible that you'd burst into flames if you ever set foot in the Sept. But, I know you did not choose to be King, just as I did not choose to waste away in this castle. I do not wish to punish you for something you cannot control, you have suffered enough."

Aegon says nothing, only faint whimpers coming from his lips. His breathing stilled as the woman traced a line of ointment across his face, delicately placing it across the edge where untouched skin met charred flesh. His body jolts as she accidentally brushes over an open wound on his cheekbone, where his helmet had melted, merging itself with his flesh. Despite how careful the Maester had been when removing it, deep gashes still marred his face. 

The King yelps in pain, eyes shut as the oils burn their way through his open wound, sending a new wave of intense pain across his face. His body curls against itself, a position he found himself in more and more often these days. But rather than digging the nails of his good hand into the palm of his fist, he found a softer, more delicate hand in his , softly stroking the back of his hand with her thumb, "I'm sorry."

Aegon whimpers, the comfort of her touch calming the scarred boy. It was rare that he obtained touches like these, not even from his mother, despite how much she claimed she loved him. No, she was more focused on being Queen than being a mother.  His wife was the same way, more fascinated with her bugs than her husband, only laying with him when they were forced to produce an heir, before returning to her own quarters in solitude. He would watch Helaena with their own children, interacting with them, holding them, reading to them, only wishing that his mother had done the same. 

So Aegon welcomes the warmth of the witch, clutching her hand with the intention to never let go until his scars had healed and he could hold his head with as much dignity as a true king. "Tell me a story," Aegon whispers, distracting himself from the pain that stretched across his body with every breath.

Y/N smirks, placing the mortar between her legs so she could continue placing the ointment with his hand still clutching her own. 

"Once upon a time, there was a beautiful Princess, who was locked away in a tower guarded by a fierce dragon. Her parents, the King and Queen, missed her dearly, and declared that any knight who were to rescue her from the dragon's keep, would marry the lovely Princess.

Not far from the kingdom lived a beast, alone. He was happy that way, till a power-hungry Lord wished to take the beast's land for himself. Upset, the beast made a deal with the Lord, in exchange for his land, the beast would rescue the Princess from her dragon's keep, so the Lord may marry her. True to his word, the beast saved the girl, yet as they traveled back to the Lord's castle, the beast found himself falling in love with the Princess."

Beside her, Aegon's breath slows, muscles relaxing against her grip, yet his violet eyes stay fixated on the woman. He listens to her intently, soft voice ringing through the silent room, as airy as wind blowing his curtains in the night. 

"One night," Y/N continues, brushing the ointment across his scarred forearm, "The beast sought to confront the Princess, yet when he came to her cabin, he heard vile words coming from her mouth, ones solely describing such a monster as the beast. Furious, he gave her to the Lord, returning to his swamp alone. Yet, he couldn't forget the Princess, as even if she despised him, he loved her. So, he returned to the Lord's castle the night of the wedding.

As the sun fell that night, the beast watched as the beloved Princess transformed before his eyes, to a beast herself. Cursed by a witch many years before, the Princess turned ugly, monstrous, every night, the curse only to be broken by true love's kiss.

Together, the beast and the Princess slayed the Lord, and wed that night. Yet, when she kissed the beast, her appearance remained disfigured. The Princess then realized, that love's truest form was not based in beauty, but in happiness. She returned to the swamp with her beloved beast, and the two lived happily ever after."

Vhisrya finished her story with a smile, placing the brush back in the mortar. She looks down at the King, whose eyes were shut. For a moment, she thinks he has fallen asleep, but Aegon grunts, indicating he is still conscious, "Was there a moral to that story?"

He had only thought of the question after listening to one of Jaehaerys's lessons, one of the few times he was sober while the sun was still high in the sky. It made him feel like a child himself, curled along his tutor's side as she read him tales of past Kings.

The woman beside him rolls her eyes, placing her hand atop his own, "The moral is that even though someone may appear hideous, it does not make them a beast."

A deep flush overtakes Aegon's body, understanding her words. Still, he purses his swollen lips, "What if one's insides are as hideous- as hideous as their outsides?"

"Then that is truly a monster," Y/N replies, watching as the boy's face turns to a scowl.

A few moments of silence pass before the woman lets out a heavy sigh, "The beast was known for killing villagers set foot near his swamp, yet after he rescued his bride, he never killed again. He changed, Aegon, and you can too."

A chill is sent up Aegon's spine when she says his name. Like the rest of his court, she only addressed him "your Grace", and even when she did refer to him indirectly as "King Aegon", spite laced her words, bitter as poison. In every sober moment he had believed that she had hated him, yet her presence and aid in his time of need dismissed the notion from his mind entirely. 

Not even his mother had looked at him for this long, or made conversation so kind. Aegon had seen her, several times, hovering behind the Maester's as they tended to his wounds, yet she never dared to approach him, so close to his gnarled flesh. He couldn't blame her, he knew it was hideous, and the Queen's stomach was not meant to see such obscenities. 

In all honestly, neither should Y/N, but her previous line of work made her accustomed to such sights. The King swallows thickly, pain stretching up the left side of his neck, causing him to let out a small whimper. 

He feels the woman's hand stroke through his matted hair, hair that hasn't been brushed, or even washed in days. It shamed him, that he was incapable of keeping up his own appearance, needing the hands of servants to take the place of his own in combing his hair, washing him, dressing him, feeding him. 

"Will you stay with me tonight?" he whispers, discarding the last bit of dignity he held.

Y/N looked to the boy below her. There was a vulnerability in his eyes that she had never seen before, a glisten of sadness, despair, hopelessness. "Of course."

Aegon grunts as the weight shifts on the bed as she lays beside him, on his good side, not wanting to damage him in his slumber. The tormented King watches as she discards her jewelry on the furthest bedside table before fluffing a pillow to join him in the bed. Her long hair splays across the pillow as she grasps his hand, leaving several inches between the two of them. 

"Come closer," Aegon pleads, pulling gently on her hand, as much as his muscles would allow without excruciating pain.

"I don't want to harm you," Y/N says quickly, concerned etched in her features. 

"You won't" Aegon replies, sinking into the warmth of her body pressed against his own.

His body aches from his burns, the ointment only soothing his pain so much. It was nights like this, when Aegon couldn't sleep, when his body caused him so much trouble that he trembled and moaned until the morning sun rose. But as he curled against the woman, his pain began to subdue. He knew it wasn't literal, that her presence made his hurt go away, but he wished to believe it that simple, that she was his cure.

Y/N listened to his wheezing breaths slow as she held him, hand tight in her own. She felt the King's nose bury itself against the nape of her neck, a small grunt escaping his lips. She could feel his  chest rise and fall against her own as the King falls into a dreamless slumber. 

Darkness fills the room as the final candle burns low, the witch finally closing her eyes for her own rest, holding the broken, tortured boy in her arms, keeping him safe through the night. 

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet-Cute - Zoro's Story - 7

Source for pic

Trouble 7

Word Count: 4814

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Protective!Zoro; Soft!Zoro; Sexual Tension; Teasing; Flirting; Mature Audiences (I'll always tag the NSFW chapters); Modern Day AU; Reader is being stalked; Fear; Paranoia; Angst; Rom-Com Vibes; Mild Gore-like Descriptions; Blood; Dead Animals Mentioned; Reader in a terror-like state; Fluff; Romance; Banter; Manipulation; Miscommunication; Frustration; Reader is very clumsy;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Zoro are slowly returning to your easy friendship filled with banter and flirting and you actually begin to glimpse a future with the green-haired cop. But then you start to receive weird gifts. They quickly escalate to manipulative texts. And now you're stuck in a spiral of terror and there's no way to get help because the Stalker, whoever he is, is threatening something other than just your life.

Notes: I told you guys this was going to get worse... and believe me or not... it STILL gets worse. Also, mind the red tag, above, please.

Masterlist

The police. 

You need to tell someone, and the police are the obvious choice. You've been tossing and turning in your bed for over an hour, and this is the smartest, simplest answer. 

Zoro is unreachable for a week, so the next best option will have to do. 

You remember your ex, Ichiji, once had a problem with a girl who loved and followed the Vinsmoke siblings everywhere. She was obsessed with the whole family, but mostly Ichiji, since he's the eldest. She resorted to possessive letters and creepy calls, and you've been trying to rack your brain as to how he dealt with the problem. You're almost positive he went to the police. 

And they couldn't help. 

That was when he hired the bodyguards. 

Maybe they took care of the problem? 

A shudder that has nothing to do with the cold travels through your body. Anyway they dealt with it, you don't have the resources to do the same. And Ichiji's bodyguards were real beasts: massive, bulky, scary. They were elite, all-stars. 

You don't have anyone like that to look out for you. 

Lies. 

You have Zoro. But you'll have to be very careful about how you'll tell him once he gets back. And even though the police did nothing to help with your ex’s problem, that doesn't mean they won't help now. 

Oh! 

You still have the picture he sent you of Rob Lucci, that has to get them to act! 

You sit upright in your bed and grab your phone. It's been muted and silent since you retired to your bedroom after closing all the doors and windows, including the door to your room. 

You left the light in your bedroom on anyway, too scared of invisible shadows, too frightened of unseen ghosts.

Obviously, there are texts waiting for you. You knew that, and that's why the phone was silenced. The dread in your stomach seems like it has come to stay, but it still manages to increase as you read the texts. 

Unknown: How are you feeling, Kitten? You barely ate dinner. You need to eat.  Unknown: Tucking into bed already? Don't be scared. You're safe. No one will harm you.  Unknown: You're mine. 

You don't know who it is, but that doesn't mean your mind doesn't conjure up the scariest, raspiest voice to go with the possessive texts. With a heavy sigh, you swipe the texts aside and search for the picture. 

It's gone. 

Just like that. 

You know you deleted some texts when you first started to receive them, but you didn't delete the picture, no matter how ghastly it was. But it's gone. 

With a shaky inhale, you return the silenced phone, face down, to your bedside table and curl up on your bed, comforter tucked high against your chin. You'll still go to the police. You have to tell someone. 

A creak of the old house brings desperate tears to your eyes and you stifle a sob. You don't dare turn off the light and you know sleep will elude you tonight. 

God, you miss Zoro. 

And he's barely been gone a day. 

-*-

Sometime during the night, you must've fallen asleep from exhaustion because the sound of the rooster’s call jolts you awake with a surprised gasp. 

Daylight seeps through the closed curtains, and you will your heart to steady to a normal beat. Nothing bad happened, you're safe, you're alone in your room. You're fine. 

Everything's fine. 

You refrain from grabbing your phone, trying to prolong the moment you’ll have to face the creepy texts, perhaps even new texts waiting for you, and instead head to the bathroom to freshen up and get ready to face a new day.

Your eyes are baggy and darkened, likely because you only slept two or three hours. A heavy sigh leaves your lips as you lay down your plans for the day: feed the animals and do the morning chores, then head to the police station and tell the cops about what’s going on. 

They will have to help you. And even if they don’t do much, at least you won’t feel so alone. 

As you finally gather some courage to grab your phone, a shaky laugh escapes your lips: there’s nothing new. No new text, no new photo, nothing. You were suffering from anticipation without any cause to do so. So, you take the phone off silent mode and stuff it in your pocket. 

The day already seems lighter and brighter. Perhaps you won’t even need to go to the police.

Grabbing a quick breakfast, you open the door, still chewing on your apple, ready to face the day. You don’t find it unusual that there are hardly any birds singing. 

Though you should’ve.

Because as soon as you open the door, you’re assaulted by a foul smell. The apple you are holding rolls in your hand and falls to the floor with a thud. Blood. There’s so much blood. 

Nausea turns your legs to jelly, and you grip the handle of the door tightly as your eyes widen and sweep the scene. There are countless dead birds, squirrels, rats, and even cockroaches. They’re scattered across your porch and thrown carelessly over the railing and the porch chairs. Blood is smeared and pooled everywhere, and the smell of rot and decay makes your eyes tear up.

You gag and fight for your breakfast to remain inside your stomach as your hand flies to cover your mouth. What could this mean?

Then, from the corner of your eye, you find your answer: there’s a cat - its fur an oddly close resemblance to the colour of your hair - dead, lifeless, gutted, and covered in blood, pinned to your door. The note attached to the poor animal is written in crimson words, and the message is clear as day:

Don’t tell anyone, Kitten.

You’re powerless to stop the retches and heaves as you fall to your knees. 

-*-

After what you found on your porch in the morning, you lock yourself in the house again. With the windows locked and the curtains closed, you curl into a small ball on the couch, put on your headphones, and will yourself to just disappear. 

Bzzzz. Bzzzz.

But he doesn’t leave you alone.

Unknown: I love seeing you scared, Kitten. The way your big, bright eyes widen. The way your chest heaves. Unknown: You’re so beautiful. Unknown: I hope you understood my message, darling. Don’t tell anyone.  Unknown: Not. A. Soul. Unknown: Or next time, it won’t be animals…

More threats. More possessive words. More praise.

The tears keep falling from your eyes, and you feel trapped and utterly alone. How did this happen to you? Who could this person be? He’s a man - you can tell because of the hand that was holding Rob Lucci’s eyes in the photo. That much is clear. 

But who?

Who would want to hurt you? Who would want to scare you?

Unknown: You don’t need to be afraid of me, Kitten. I won’t hurt you. Not you, never you. Unknown: I think your dad’s animals might be hungry.  Unknown: Are you going to be cooped up inside all day? Do you need me to feed them?

What? How sick is he? How can he say this? Is he close? How close?

A whimper escapes your lips as you clutch your face in your hands, shaking your head and shutting your eyes shut. 

He’s right, though. You need to feed the animals. You’ve been inside the house for around four hours already. The animals must be starving.

It takes you about fifteen minutes to gather the strength and courage to face the slaughter on your porch and then another five minutes to gather a trash bag and gloves. Then it’s with heavy breaths that you place your shaky hand on the doorknob, turning it slowly, your eyes still closed. 

The smell is still overwhelming, but it’s not as bad as you thought it would be after the dead animals were left rotting in the sun for hours. With another shaky breath, you finally open your eyes.

There’s nothing there.

No animals. No blood. No note or cat pinned to the door.

For a fleeting second, you think you’re going crazy. You have to be. But then your eyes fall back on the door. Your nails scrape gently against the dark wood: there’s a mark where the knife was pinning the cat and the note. 

You didn’t dream it, you didn’t imagine things. It happened.

And he cleaned it all up.

What is going on? Why is he playing these mind games with you?

Suddenly, you hear a distant noise coming from the treeline, just beyond the barn. Your blood runs cold, and a shiver filled with dread makes you tremble. With a shaky step forward you grip the railing, straining your eyes against the brightness of the day to try to discern if there’s something lurking there. 

Your breathing slows down, and your knuckles turn white with the force you’re clutching the railing. Dread rises from somewhere in the pit of your stomach and settles right in your chest.

There’s definitely something - someone? - there. And it looks big. Massive, even. 

The shadow moves forward, and you gasp at the same time your phone begins to ring. A scream climbs up your throat, and you stumble backwards, fumbling with your pockets to fish out the blaring phone. 

Nami.

You pick up shakily, your eyes already moving back to the place where the shadow had been. “Y-yeah?”  

“Hi!” Nami’s voice is bright, she might not have noticed the strain in yours. Your left hand grips the railing again as your eyes dart left and right. Nothing. “How are you, honey? Are you feeling lonely now that your broody cop left for the week?” She giggles, and you force out a shaky, fake laugh. Nothing! “I thought you might want some company. Want me to come over?”

Nothing at all.

Fear grips you again, and you stumble backwards, closing the door with force and leaning against it with heavy breaths. “Come over?” Breathe. Just breathe. There’s no way in hell you’re going to tell Nami to come over. No matter how much you want her company, how alone you feel, or how much comfort you seek. You won’t risk her getting trapped in this person’s web. “Sorry, Nami. I can’t today. Maybe another time?”

She groans on the other side of the line as you move to the window, your eyes scanning the trees again. “Fineee! I was just postponing some boring house chores anyway. I’ve been procrastinating since the weekend.” She giggles. “Talk soon, then?”

You let out a noncommittal noise, and silence fills the line. “Are you okay?” She asks, worry lacing her voice. Calm down! You try to force some semblance of control back into your voice. Nami always sees right through your bullshit, so you need to be a good liar. Just this once. One time.

“Of course I am! I’m just sooo tired! Ace couldn’t help me today, so I’m tending to all the chores alone. I need rest.” You let out another shaky laugh and hope against all hope she believes you.

There’s still nothing out there. 

“Hmm, okay, okay. I believe that. Farm chores are so tiresome. ‘K, gotta go. Call me later?”

“Sure, Nami. Thanks for checking in.”

She hangs up, and you grip the phone tightly. You could’ve sworn that the shadow was coming for you when you picked up the phone. And that thought alone is enough to make you stay cooped up inside for another hour. 

-*-

You don't quite know how you do it, but you force yourself to tackle your morning chores, even though they’ve now turned into afternoon chores. 

Every little noise, every tiny movement makes you tremble and whimper. Even the cows sense your discomfort, some of the older ones gently bump you as you pet them and whisper soothing words. 

How ironic is it that you're the one in need of soothing, not the cows. 

Somehow, you manage. And as soon as you're done, you rush inside, bolting the door and sighing as you lean against it. You did it. You're safe inside. He can't get in. 

He can't get in. 

You're safe. 

-*-

You take a quick shower and have a meager dinner. You wouldn't be able to eat anything different even if you were hungry. Your fridge and pantry are almost empty. You should've gone grocery shopping yesterday, but the sick cow threw those plans out the window and now the last thing you want to do is leave the safety of your home to buy food supplies. 

You can always survive on nuts and cereal. 

A groan leaves your lips as you finish cleaning the dishes. No, you can't. 

You place the towel on the rack to dry, then halt your movements, tilting your head to the side to listen for any noise. You’ve closed all the curtains, but you still feel watched. It's like someone is creeping in on you, watching every move you make, every sound, every thought. 

Shaking your head, you leave the kitchen, turning off the light and running towards the stairs like a child scared of the dark. Your stomach still rumbles a bit, though you're so nauseated and scared that, even though you're hungry, you know you can't eat anything right now. 

Plus, empty pantry and all that… 

So, tomorrow, grocery shopping will have to be. Get out, buy stuff, get back in. 

How hard can that be? 

-*-

Hard. So very hard. 

Considering you didn't sleep much last night. Maybe an hour, two at most. He kept texting you with praise and soothing words, telling you to turn off the light and rest. But how could you turn off the light when he was watching you, and every shadow felt like it was looming closer? How could you rest when your heart kept pounding with adrenaline? 

You don't know how much longer your body can function without sleep, with barely any food and under constant stress. But the truth is, you can't even bring yourself to worry about those things when the real terror hides behind creepy texts. 

And there are still three more days before Zoro returns. 

Trying to ignore the dread in your stomach or the way your breath leaves your mouth in shaky exhales, you open the front door, bracing yourself for anything. 

But there's nothing. 

A longer and much more relieved exhale empties your lungs, and you feed the animals before rushing to your car. The farm feels eerily silent, as if the animals can sense all the apprehension coursing through you. 

And they probably do. 

You drive a little faster than you should on the way to the store and as you park the car and exit with rushed movements, new texts greet you, and you grimace in consternation 

Unknown: Slow down, Flash. There's no one following you, don't worry. No one will get near you. 

Right. No one but this creep, whoever he is. There's no need to worry at all. 

Fear induces hurry, and you take little care in picking the prettiest vegetables or the plumpest fruits. You just want to grab your essentials, and get out. Rush home, and lock yourself in until Zoro returns and you can find some solace in his arms. 

Is that too much to ask? 

“Well, hello there, gorgeous. I see you're all alone today.”

Oh, no, no, no. 

“Hi, yes, I'm in a hurry, excuse me.” It's the store clerk who flirted with you when you returned. And his advances are especially unwelcome today. Even more so since Zoro isn't around to pretend to be your boyfriend. 

He places an arm on your cart, a cheeky smirk in his lips and you suppress a groan as his hand inches closer to touch yours. “I'll help you. What do you need? Besides my number?” He chuckles and now it's the urge to roll your eyes you suppress. 

You feel a faint vibration in your pocket and push the cart forward as you decide to ignore it. “I really don't need your help, thank you.” 

“Are you sure?” You nod and try to push past him again, but his hand moves, gripping your forearm instead of the cart. “Because I can be very… serviceable.”

Hell, no. 

A loud crash from the next aisle - that sounds like broken jars - echoes through the store, and the clerk groans. “Not the pickles, come on. They stink up the place!” He releases your arm with frustration, and you seize the opportunity to slip away, grab the rest of your essentials, and cash out. 

Your nerves are frayed to the breaking point, and all you want is to curl up and disappear. 

It's not until you finally get home, unload the groceries and lock the door, that you look at the unread texts on your phone. 

Unknown: Who does he think he is?  Unknown: He dares flirt with you? He dares TOUCH you? You're mine!  Unknown: Don't worry, Kitten, I won't let him bother you again. 

No! Oh, no!

A quick online search shows you the phone number of the grocery store and you're fast to dial it, your foot tapping the floor impatiently as guilt gnaws at your insides. 

You can't let anyone else get hurt because of you. It's not fair. Not fair at all. 

Someone picks up at the third ring and it's an older female voice. It's not him. You try your best to describe the clerk you wish to speak to and, thank God it's a small town, because the woman on the line knows who you're talking about and calls him. 

The phone buzzes in your ear and you glance at the text while you're waiting. 

Unknown: How selfless of you, Kitten, trying to save him.  Unknown: You can't, though, you know? 

“Hello?” He sounds pissed. 

“Hi! Oh, thank God. Are you okay?” You collapse into a kitchen chair, your legs wobbly all of a sudden. 

“Who is this?”

“Right! Sorry! Uh… I’m uh… The girl you were talking to earlier? Erm… The one you offered to help?”

He lets out a dry chuckle. “The gorgeous one? Yeah, I remember you. Guess you really needed my number, then.”

Bzzzz.

Unknown: He's gone, Kitten. Might as well say goodbye now. Nobody touches what's mine. 

“Good! Listen, you're in danger.” Your voice falters as you think about how crazy you must sound. How delusional. “I can't tell you much, but someone might try to harm you. Don't ask me how I know, I just do! Please don't leave the store alone! And go to the cops, please!”

There's a moment of silence on the line and you hope he's considering your words, listening to the faint edge of fear on your voice, something that shows him reason. 

“Wow…” He's not convinced. “This has got to be the most elaborate excuse anyone’s used to get me to back off.” He chuckles again, but this time in disbelief. “Listen, I get it, okay? I'll back off. You're not interested. I won't try again.”

“No, no, wait! That's not what I–”

“Don't worry, miss. I got it.” He sighs. “I got to go, some asshole spilled the whole aisle of pickles and that shit’s already spilling to the other aisles. Er… Bye, I guess.”

And he ends the call. You hold the phone to your ear, ignoring the beeping signaling the end of the call. This can't be happening. It can't. Someone will get hurt again because of you. 

You drop the phone, and it slips to the floor with a thud, your fingers threading through your hair and gripping tight. The walls feel closer now, the air thinner. You're alone. You're frightened. You're vulnerable.

And you will be responsible for another terrible crime. 

-*-

The chores that could be postponed, got postponed. Those that couldn't, got done half-heartedly. It will have to do. At least until Zoro comes back and you can rely on him. 

You miss him. You need him. So, so much. 

As per usual, you lock the door tightly and double-check all the other locks on the back doors and windows, though you haven't touched those since this whole ordeal started. Everything's locked, and though apprehension still grips your heart tightly, you feel as safe as you're going to feel for now. 

He won't get into your home. You're safe inside. 

You still rush up the stairs and lock yourself in your bedroom, lights on and covers pulled up to your chin. 

After you've settled, and after you've made sure there's nothing hiding in the shadows or inside your closet, you unlock your phone, skim through the new set of texts: ‘You're mine’, ‘Sleep tight’, ‘Drink water and get some rest’, and then open the website of the local newspaper again, dreading the time when you'll see the store clerk's picture or some reference to him. 

It dawns on you that you don't even know his name. 

And yet, you're going to be the one to blame for whatever gruesome thing that happens to him. Should you go confess to the cops? 

No… You can't. He doesn't let you go to the police, you got that message loud and clear: if you do that, somebody else will get hurt. And maybe next time it could be one of your friends. Or you. 

A shaky inhale leaves your lips as a new set of tears threatens to fall. How do you have more tears to cry? How are you still hanging on? How long will you last without fully breaking? 

-*-

Like all the other nights, you eventually give in to exhaustion and fall asleep for a few hours. Except this time, the events from the day before are still pretty fresh in your mind, so the first thing you do is grab your phone - no new texts. Yet. - and open the newspaper website. 

Nothing. 

A relieved sigh empties your lungs, and you actually manage a small smile. Maybe this person, this stalker, is all bark and no bite. 

Though even as you think this, you know you're wrong. He's very vicious. Rob Lucci, the dead animals… You feel he's capable of terrible things. But maybe, just maybe, this time he was just bluffing. 

Bzzzz. 

No. No. No. 

It's a picture. 

Bzzzz. 

Unknown: I always follow through on my threats, Kitten. 

And then there's an address. 

No. It's your fault again. You know you shouldn't open the picture, you already know it's gruesome, you already know you'll regret it, and yet… 

You still open it. 

The shop clerk is blindfolded and tied up with intricate knots, the rope is binding his chest, his legs, his arms. His face is swollen and barely recognizable. There's blood everywhere. And his hands… They're detached from his body, hanging on his neck like a necklace and holding a paper with a bloody note: Nobody touches what's mine. 

-*-

You used the address to make an anonymous tip to the police. You didn’t even know you could do that online, but apparently, there are specific websites that offer that anonymous service. 

You can’t bear to look at the picture one more time, but you hope he’s still alive. All he did was talk to you. Just like Rob Lucci. 

They aren’t guilty of any other crime. And that’s why you feel so responsible for what happened to them. 

The urge to tell Zoro all that’s been happening is stronger than ever, but then there’s a nagging feeling at the back of your mind telling you that if the stalker managed to do this to men who only flirted with you, what could he do to Zoro, someone you’re actually interested in?

You know Zoro is a cop, and you know he can take care of himself, but still… 

You fear for his safety more than you fear your own.

And that is terrifying.

-*-

Shanks called and said he and Beckman are having a wonderful time, and business is blooming. Some of your father’s best horses have already been selected by breeders, so, unfortunately, Shanks is going to have to prolong his stay for at least three more weeks. 

You didn’t have the heart to tell him how alone and terrified you felt. So instead, you feigned happiness that all was going well for him and told him he could stay for as long as he wanted because you had everything under control. 

Lies, after lies, after lies. 

The rest of the week passes in a haze. You barely sleep, hardly eat, and are in a constant state of stress and nerves. The only time you leave the house is to feed the animals and clean the stables. And even then, there are times you manage to ask Ace for help, pretending to feel sick. 

The rest of the time is spent curled up, frightened, and being constantly harassed over text by this creep.

You’ve been wracking your brain as to who he is, but you have no idea. Absolutely no idea. And the fact that he could be some random person might even be scarier than if he were someone you know. 

Friday finally arrives, and as you down your third mug of coffee of the morning, sitting iyour couch, your phone rings. And this time you’re actually happy to see the name on the screen.

It’s Zoro.

But as you’re about to answer, the call disconnects suddenly. Did he hang up?

Bzzzz.

No. He didn’t. 

Unknown: Remember, Kitten, don’t tell him anything. You don’t want to see the cop pinned to your door next, do you?

Zoro calls again, and once more, the call dies before you pick it up. 

Unknown: You know by now that I don’t make idle threats. You do not want to see me mad, Kitten. I don’t want to hurt your friends because I don’t want to see you sad, but I will hurt him. 

Zoro calls again, and still you have no time to answer. 

“Shit!” You almost sob. “I won’t tell him anything… I won’t…” You mutter to yourself, tears already gathering at the corner of your eyes as the feeling of being trapped and alone overpowers you. 

This time, when Zoro tries again, you manage to pick up. 

“Hey, Troublemaker! What the hell is wrong with that damned phone?”

God, oh God, you missed him so much. His strong voice, his confident demeanour, the way that just hearing him speak to you makes you feel instantly safer.

It’s too much.

Too much.

You try to keep the tears and the sobs at bay, but you can’t. “Zo…” You sniffle, and it’s clear that he immediately stands at attention on the other side of the line.

“What’s wrong, Trouble? Talk to me. I’m still heading home, I’m about two hours away. What’s wrong?”

Bzzzz.

Unknown: Kitten… don’t disappoint me. 

“Nothing!” A wet, shaky laugh climbs up your throat, and you bring your knees to your chest, trying to feel smaller. “I’ve just been feeling lonely this week. Nami and Robin have been busy, I don’t want to bother Kaya and Usopp. Luffy is busy at the fire station, and… and… I’ve missed you so, so much… I’m such a crybaby, I’m sorry.”

Is this enough?

Silence stretches, and all that you hear on the other line is the sound of cars and chatter from his coworkers. “I’ve missed you too, Trouble.” At least his worry is hidden behind a semblance of softness. It might’ve been enough. “Are you sure that’s it?”

Another excuse, quick.

“Yeah… I mean, my dad just called saying he has to be away for more weeks than he initially thought, I guess that I also miss him…”

Zoro chuckles softly, and you sigh in relief. 

“You’re an emotional mess today, Trouble.”

You laugh softly and sniff, your hand cleaning the remnants of your tears from your cheeks. 

“I guess I am.”

“Well, Nami texted me earlier, saying the gang’s going to meet at Robin’s. Are you coming?”

You shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t. You don’t want to put any of them in danger, but you don’t think you can spend more time alone inside a locked house. You need your friends, you need Zoro…

“Yeah, I guess.”

“See you soon, then?”

You hum, and before you can say anything else, the call ends again. Did he hang up? Was it the service? Or… maybe you should think about changing phones…

Bzzzz.

Unknown: Such a good girl, Kitten. I knew you could do it.  Unknown: I hope you think of me at the gathering later. I do want you to have fun, you know? But remember…  Unknown: Behave, Kitten. You do not want to see me angry. I don’t want to have to punish you.

Taglist: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @lycoriskalmia @daydreamer-in-training @iloveyoushanks @thegalaxysedge22 @kyllium @keiva1000

|Chapter 8|

[aishnico]

heyy, can i request a short hair layne staley fic where reader is aic producer (she also has her own music career which is doing quite well) and she’s hanging out with layne while they’re at their sound check at the starplex amphitheater may 15 1991 clash of the clans tour and while layne is showing the interviewer the tour bus she’s trying to make some advances on layne (unaware that reader and layne we’re together) and laynes just kind of laughing at her attempts and saying no and that’s when he says he has a girlfriend (but he doesn’t say it’s reader cause they’re staying on the low 🤭) but after the show they walk in the little after party thing with laynes arm over reader’s shoulders and peoples are asking them if they’re a thing and they’re just all chill and quiet about it like not really answering their questions more so just laughing at them and before the sound check a few the interviewers were noticing how flirty layne was with reader 😍😍 and they asked them if they were together but he just laughed (he got flustered 😻) and said next question 😋😍😚

#𝙇𝘼𝙔𝙉𝙀 𝙎𝙏𝘼𝙇𝙀𝙔: 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨

» summary: everybody's eyes were on you and your boyfriend, layne. the funny part was that seeing their expressions every time you deny them about your relationship.

» word count: 2.3k

» warnings: none, except grammar issues </3

» part 2

“so, when is the new album coming out?” the blonde, short-haired man asked you while flipping a card from his deck.

“not soon, i don’t have a chance to work on it seriously nowadays. hell, i didn’t even finish writing songs.” you sighed, flipping a card and putting it on top of his. 

“you can always get advice from me about writing, you know?” he proudly smirked which made you chuckle in return. “i will if i need any help. it’s not like everyday layne staley himself offers you help about working on songs.” 

a pout appeared on his face. “why did you say that? i’m your boyf-“

“shh!” you covered his mouth to not let him finish his sentence, checking around if someone was near. you sensed a couple of eyes staring in your direction from behind but there were only boys on the stage. sean and mike were jamming together while jerry was testing his guitar. his gaze turned to your direction, sending a smirk to both of you. 

“what the hell did he mean?” you furrowed your eyebrows but got soft the moment you felt layne’s hand on your shoulder, smiling at you like an idiot which made you blush slightly. “back to the game?”

“right,” you nodded, waiting for his return.

“you know, i’ve always thought that you’re an amazing person. i mean you’re a producer but at the same time, you have your own successful music career! it must be difficult to keep them in balance right?” his words didn’t help you to stop blushing.

“yeah, you can say that. thanks anyway.” you purposefully avoided his gaze because you knew if you looked at him, you would turn into a tomato in a second. he is too good at this, making you blush from such simple things. 

you flipped another card from your deck without looking. the moment you put your card on top of his and saw the jack card, you both looked at each other at the same time and before he could put his hand on top of it, you reached first. 

“damn it!” you laughed at him as you put the cards to your side. “you’re just too slow, babe.” you whispered the last word, making him blush.

“hey lovebirds, mind keeping it down for a bit?” jerry shouted in your direction, making both of you giggle at the same time. “i don’t know what are you talking about, man!” layne shouted back. jerry just nodded to brush it off. “get your ass back here soon!”

layne sighed, looking at you like asking for help. you just lifted your eyebrows and shrugged off. “you’re the singer, dude.”

“dude?” he smiled and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

before you could reply, a familiar man approached you from behind. it was riki rachtman from ‘headbangers ball’.

“hey guys, i hope i don’t disturb whatever you’re doing but, my friend, vanessa over there,” he paused then turned his back to the point in her direction. “wants to interview with you, layne. and if it’s alright for you, i can ask some questions about your upcoming album, [name]. it’s not that every day i encounter with such brilliant musicians as you.”

you chuckled at his compliment and felt layne’s changing expression. “uh, yeah, i have some time so go ahead.” you invited riki to sit next to you. when he sat, he eyed both of you in curiosity.

“how does it feel to work with ‘alice in chains’?”

“first of all, i feel lucky to work with those guys. four of them are brilliant and talented. every time all of them are working on something seriously, it can result like gems such as ‘facelift’, haha. but they are actually goofy and childish. they don’t cause any problems for anyone though. i enjoy being with them.” you couldn’t help but smile at your words. meanwhile, layne started to make cute noises. “aww!”

“i also wanted to ask you about your solo work. when is the album coming out? new collaborations? tours, maybe?”

“haha, well… the release date is still a mystery. i can’t find enough time to work on it here. but i’m managing to write couple of lyric drafts out of order, it’s not that serious enough to talk about much except kat is in the business with me again. that’s what i can say for now.”

“thanks for the answers, hope we’ll get the new gem as soon as possible. before the next question, i want to ask one thing that me and my other interview friends are curious about. sorry for asking this but, are you guys dating?”

you and layne paused and looked at each other. then he couldn’t help but burst out laughing and throwing his head backward. meanwhile, you covered your mouth and started to giggle at his question. the man probably began to regret asking this. layne calmed down and smiled. “um, i hope you got your answer.”

“don’t you have to be somewhere else, layne? don’t make a woman wait for you.” you reminded him.

“sure thing, ma’am.” he winked at you before standing up and whispering two words before going. “love you.”

“hi, i’m vanessa warwick from headbangers ball and today we’re here with mr. layne staley himself. hi, layne!”

“hi, vanessa!” the blonde man cheerfully replied.

“soo, how’s the tour going by so far?”

“it’s going more than good. i don’t remember the last time i had fun this much till now.”

“i heard you guys got a new bus. wanna show us around?”

“yeah sure.” layne led the way to her. they stopped at the front of the door and he gestured for her to enter first

“what a gentleman, you’re so kind.” vanessa gushed and landed her hand to him to pull him inside the bus. layne waved his hand meaning “it’s nothing” and gave his hand to her.

“so, here’s like the kitchen area. pretty filthy sink, plastic glasses…” he kneeled and made a sign to the cameraman to get closer and whispered. “and inside this drawer, me and mike hiding some snacks from jerry and sean. because they don’t know when to stop, haha.” he opened it and showed the crushed chip packets.

“and this painting right here, it’s a fine one for sure but sadly i forgot the name of the painter.” he pointed out to a painting where seagulls were flying on the beach.

“it really looks stunning as you.” vanessa didn’t miss the chance to flirt with him. layne gave her a small smile, thanking her in a low tone. the cameraman walked a little bit far from them, filming some other parts of the bus.

“have you met someone who matches you yet?” she asked him flirtatiously. before he could answer, she stood in front of him, leaning to the closest surface.

“well, i heard there’s going to be a party tonight so, i’m suggesting you hang out there together. what do you say?”

“uh…” he nervously mumbled. although her behavior didn't appeal to him, it was quite funny to watch to make such an attempt. she moved away from the surface and approached him, eyes wandering on his necklace which you gifted him three months ago on valentine’s day.

 “we can eat chips far from everyone and drink as much as we want. and after that, maybe we can sneak out and…” she touched his necklace but he moved her hand away without any harm quickly.

“ahaha, no.” he laughed nervously but answered firmly. “i have a girlfriend and i love her so much.”

vanessa’s expression changed in a second. flirtatiousness and shamelessness could be seen nowhere now. as her face turned to pale, she stepped back with a shy look. “oh i- i’m so sorry, i didn’t know.” she coughed and he nodded in understatement. “hey i think we’re done here!” she tapped the cameraman’s back and they got off from the bus as layne followed them behind. three of them saw riki standing near the bus. 

“hey layne, the guys are looking for you. they seemed to be a little bit annoyed.”

“ain’t no problem for me but thanks anyway.” he waved to three of them before making his way to the stage. 

“so, how did it go?” riki asked his friend. vanessa bit her lip in embarrassment. “dude has a girlfriend all along.”

“oh, i think i have an idea who she is.”

“you sure about this?”

“yes! there shouldn’t be a problem with people seeing us like that. i mean, i’m pretty sure we look like close friends.” layne chuckled while putting his arm on your shoulder, pulling you close to himself. 

“just keep calm, i promise we won’t pull any attention.” he quickly planted a kiss on top of your head before entering the party. “layne!” he didn’t answer as he knocked on the door. 

“hey fellas!” joey from anthrax greeted you a couple of seconds later in a half-drunk state. he extended his hand backward invitingly. as both of you entered inside, he gazed at you, lifting his left eyebrow. “i thought you were already here with the rest of the boys?”

layne awkwardly laughed, looking at you like asking for help. “um, she couldn’t find anything to wear so they got tired of waiting and just came here straightforwardly, i decided to keep company.” he winked at you as you rolled your eyes playfully. joey nodded slowly while grinning. “uh huh, are you guys a thing?”

“i don’t know what are you talking about.” you snorted while drinking the beer frank lent to you just now. layne lowered his head to have a taste of it so you made him drink it with your hands. both of them sarcastically smiled and then nodded. “whatever you say, dudes.” they left you there alone beside the crowd before you two giggled at each other.

“we should say hi to boys, they’re probably looking for us now.” you started to walk around next to him while looking side to side.

“nah, i bet we’re the last thing in their minds right now.”  he replied with a chuckle.

“still, let’s find them.” it wasn’t helpful when his face was so close next to yours. his warm breath and his short blonde beard were tickling against your cheek, not to mention how your cheeks started to flush due to his position.

“you’re so dangerously close to me.” you murmured. “i don’t know what are you talking about.” 

“oh so you’re copying me now?” you stopped walking and turned to him to face him. he smirked, “that’s what i’m gonna say if someone asks about us again, love.” he whispered the last word just like in the morning.

a couple of minutes later, you heard a couple of loud laughters and when you turned around to see, there was no one except boys. “what on earth are they doing?” you asked yourself. layne led the way while his arm was still on your shoulder. 

sean was laughing his ass off while mark was looking really pissed, meanwhile, jerry accidentally bumped into a wall. their expressions changed in a second when they saw you two. “hey, where the hell you’ve been guys?” mark asked, looking a little bit relieved now. 

“i was testing my new lipsticks and unlike you, layne didn’t leave me alone.” you replied while sending him a wink.

“so you were testing your lipsticks on him, right?” jerry approached you, he was rubbing his forehead and smiling even though his forehead hurt him.

“you got a purple mark on top of your head, dude.” layne changed the subject quickly as he was showing the area on himself. 

“you guys want a beer?” as both of you nodded, sean lent two beers to you and grabbed for himself and jerry and mark. 

“cheers!” all of you clinked your beer cans and chugged them in a couple of seconds. you wrinkled your face then threw the can to the floor. layne chuckled at your behavior, can’t move his eyes from you. as the boys noticed this they rolled their eyes in a sigh. “denial is not just a river in egypt!” jerry said as he grabbed another beer. 

instead of answering you just started to laugh at him, freeing yourself from layne. seconds later he joined you too. “what are you even talking about?” you managed to say between breaths. the three of them stared at both of you awkwardly then walked away from you. “we’ll see you at the bus!” mark shouted to you behind them. 

when you finally managed to calm down, you threw yourself at the nearest seat, face still flushed. he kneeled next to you, examining your face. after being sure there weren’t any acquaintances of you and not many people were around, you turned to him.

“i’m getting good at laughing my ass off each time. i was thinking about how you and mike tricked sean when he wanted to steal your chips again but you put the extra spicy ones and how hilarious and helpless he was looking when he started to make painful voices.” thinking about this made you giggle.

“oh god… we should have taken a photo of him that moment.” he whined then threw his head backward. 

“and, there’s something i wanna say.” you lowered your face to his. “i’ve heard about the interview that you had with that woman this morning. and i must say that i’m feeling quite proud of you, even though you didn’t say my name.”

“should i have say?”

you shook your head in disagreement. “it doesn’t matter, only i know who’s the girlfriend of the best grunge frontman and that’s enough for me.” you smiled.

“you’re so sweet, i love you so much.” he melted at your words and smiled, just when he wanted to kiss you, you put your hand between your lips. 

“let’s just head to the bus before boys, yeah?”

there will be a part 2 including smut bc i have a request of layne with a spicy one shot ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

[tenderyellowbluefics]

I haven’t written on here in a LOOOONGG time but I wanna come back!! So give me some requests!!! My Eddie Munson phase has long since died so I don’t write for him anymore, but I have some other metalheads I'd love to write about!

I'm mainly interested in writing about James Hetfield and/or Jerry Cantrell right now but I will also accept requests for the following!

Kirk Hammett

Jason Newstead

Sean Kinney

Layne Staley

(Non metal/rock)

Keanu Reeves

Halsey

Rhea Ripley.

If there is someone you reallyyyy want me to write about who isn't on this list, feel free to ask me anyways!! There's a good chance I'll at least give it a shot haha!

What I’ll write?

I’m cool writing fluff, angst, smut all that!

I will NOT write about anything to do with pedophilia, abuse, or incest!

I've been thirsting real hard over James lately so smutty requests for him are encouraged💀

[broidobe]

80s-90s rock masterlist ౨ৎ

౨ৎ here you'll find all of the 80s-90s bands i've written for UNLESS they have their own masterlist!

౨ৎ bands in this masterlist so far (it's always expanding): the cure, nirvana, aerosmith, pantera, ozzy osbourne (his band), poison, cinderella, type o negative, extreme, pearl jam, alice in chains, billy idol, danzig, soundgarden, kiss, def leppard, bon jovi, ramones, la guns, ac/dc, slayer, van halen, warrant, nine inch nails, queen, hole, faith no more, jeff buckley

౨ৎ smut= ❦ fluff= 𖤐 angst= 𓉸

𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓮

robert

𓋹 dating robert smith would include

𝓷𝓲𝓻𝓿𝓪𝓷𝓪

kurt

𓋹 dating kurt cobain would include

𓋹 safe place 𖤐

𓋹 worshipped ❦ 𖤐

𝓪𝓮𝓻𝓸𝓼𝓶𝓲𝓽𝓱

joe

𓋹 doctor 𖤐

𓋹 clink 𖤐

𝓹𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓪

dimebag

𓋹 dating dimebag darrell would include

phil

𓋹 phil anselmo with a quiet reader

𓋹 unrelenting ❦

𝓸𝔃𝔃𝔂 𝓸𝓼𝓫𝓸𝓾𝓻𝓷𝓮

zakk

𓋹 dating zakk wylde would include

𓋹 zakk wylde nsfw headcannons

𓋹 quiet afternoon 𖤐

𓋹 blush ❦

𝓹𝓸𝓲𝓼𝓸𝓷

bret

𓋹 dating bret michaels would include

𓋹 bret michaels nsfw headcannons

𝓬𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓪

tom

𓋹 tom keifer nsfw headcannons

𓋹 cozy evening 𖤐

𓋹 every little piece 𖤐

𓋹 too much for you ❦

𓋹 still gasping (pt. 2 of too much for you) ❦

𓋹 never meant 𖤐

𓋹 joyride (feat. axl) ❦

𓋹 wretched tide 𓉸

𝓽𝔂𝓹𝓮 𝓸 𝓷𝓮𝓰𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓿𝓮

peter

𓋹 being married to peter steele would include

𓋹 peter steele dating a younger reader would include

𓋹 colossal ❦

josh

𓋹 dating josh silver would include

𓋹 shake the weight 𖤐

𓋹 signed up for ❦

𝓮𝔁𝓽𝓻𝓮𝓶𝓮

nuno

𓋹 dating nuno bettencourt would include

𝓹𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓵 𝓳𝓪𝓶

stone

𓋹 dating stone gossard would include

𓋹 you're quiet ❦

𓋹 beneath the static 𓉸 ❦

eddie

𓋹 dating eddie vedder would include

𓋹 in the mountains 𖤐

matt

𓋹 no direction 𖤐

𝓪𝓵𝓲𝓬𝓮 𝓲𝓷 𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓼

sean

𓋹 dating sean kinney would include

𓋹 sean kinney nsfw headcannons

𓋹 sean kinney nsfw alphabet

𓋹 drummer and a savings bond 𖤐 ❦

𓋹 the whole damn thing 𖤐 𓉸

𓋹 orbiting 𓉸

jerry

𓋹 jerry cantrell nsfw headcannons

𓋹 start of a song 𖤐

𓋹 stale smoke 𓉸 𖤐

layne

𓋹 lazy, dangerous ❦

𓋹 crawling in the dark 𓉸 𖤐

𝓼𝓸𝓵𝓸 𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓼

billy

𓋹 chanel ❦

𝓭𝓪𝓷𝔃𝓲𝓰

john

𓋹 dating john christ would include

𓋹 incense ❦

𝓼𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭𝓰𝓪𝓻𝓭𝓮𝓷

chris

𓋹 dating chris cornell would include

𓋹 chris cornell nsfw headcannons

𓋹 chris cornell and the softness only you see

𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼

eric

𓋹 asylum 𖤐 ❦ (very light smut/barely any lol. it's more spice)

𓋹 strutter 𖤐 ❦

ace

𓋹 starry-eyed ❦

𝓭𝓮𝓯 𝓵𝓮𝓹𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓭

rick savage

𓋹 only you 𓉸 𖤐

joe

𓋹 dating joe elliot could include

rick allen

𓋹 ghosted ❦

𝓫𝓸𝓷 𝓳𝓸𝓿𝓲

richie

𓋹 dating richie sambora would include

𓋹 richie sambora nsfw headcannons

jon

𓋹 wicked love ❦ 𖤐

𓋹 the watcher (feat. axl) ❦

𝓻𝓪𝓶𝓸𝓷𝓮𝓼

dee dee

𓋹 dating dee dee ramone would include

joey

𓋹 how deep is your love? ❦ 𖤐

𓋹 fucking dump ❦ 𖤐 𓉸

𝓵𝓪 𝓰𝓾𝓷𝓼

kelly

𓋹 dating kelly nickels would include

𝓪𝓬𝓭𝓬

the whole band

𓋹 how you met the members of ac/dc

𝓼𝓵𝓪𝔂𝓮𝓻

jeff

𓋹 dating jeff hanneman would include

𝓿𝓪𝓷 𝓱𝓪𝓵𝓮𝓷

sammy

𓋹 shy type ❦

david

𓋹 milk and honey ❦

𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓽

jani

𓋹 dating jani lane would include

𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓮 𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓱 𝓷𝓪𝓲𝓵𝓼

trent

𓋹 hushed devotion ❦

𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓮𝓷

brian

𓋹 brian may nsfw alphabet

𝓱𝓸𝓵𝓮

courtney

𓋹 malibu 𓉸 𖤐

𝓯𝓪𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓷𝓸 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮

mike

𓋹 lonely drinker 𖤐 ❦ (spice)

𝓳𝓮𝓯𝓯 𝓫𝓾𝓬𝓴𝓵𝓮𝔂

jeff

𓋹 jeff buckley dating headcannons

[skywlkrhoney]

The girl from the garage next door

Sam Monroe x KinderWhore!Fem!reader

Fluff!

WARNINGS:Smoking, mentions of family problems, Sam spying on the reader (but not in a scary way), Reader is described as someone who has black and medium hair, but they can imagine her the way they want <3

N/A: Welcome to my first imagine of my favorite emo boy!! I hope you like it and excuse any mistake in English, because it's not my first language

Sam's heavy steps hit the ground, his sneakers beaten in contact with the dirty floor in front of his house. Sam was angry, to say the least. Another argument with his father, and he was already about to completely lose his mind.

He took the pake of cigarettes out of the rumped pocket on the front of his jeans, took a cigarette, put it between his lips and lit it with a lighter. Almost automatically, when inhaling the toxic smoke into your lungs, your mind relaxed minimally.

Sam smoked while watching the row of houses on the street. The night air was dense, loaded with the smell of asphalt and the cigarette smoke that came out of his lips in irregular spirals. It was then that he heard something—a sound, to be more specific.

He frowned and turned slightly, trying to identify the origin. His eyes traveled the environment until they fixed on the garage of the house next door. The new family had moved a few weeks ago, but he knew almost nothing about them. The sound came from there, muffled by the walls, but still sharp enough for him to recognize the melody effortlessly.

"Heart-Shaped Box." Nirvana.

Sam threw the cigarette on the floor and stepped on it, without taking his eyes off the garage. He wasn't the type to care about neighbors, but something in that song made him want to get closer. Maybe it was just curiosity. With his hands in his pockets, he walked to the front of the garage, feeling the icy air of the night hit his pale skin.

He approached the garage, and the music got a little louder with every step he took. The gate was half open, and Sam stopped right in front, peeking discreetly inside.

The first thing he saw were cardboard boxes stacked in every corner, which made sense—after all, the family had moved a short time ago. His gaze wandered through the walls, absorbing the details of the space. Posters covered almost all the cold concrete, some glued anyway, others torn at the ends, but all screaming the same aesthetic. Hole, Alice in Chains, Nirvana, Veruca Salt. The kind of musical taste that immediately caught his attention.

That's when he saw her.

With my back to him, focused on sticking a Babes in Toyland poster on the wall in an almost awkward way. The corners were crooked, as if she didn't care much about the precision, just the feeling of seeing him there. Sam remained still, watching her unhurriedly, his eyes following the details he could capture.

His hair was dark, black as the pitch of the night, and fell to his shoulders in a dismissive way, some strands sticking to the skin of his neck. She wore a baby-pink satin dress, the fabric contrasting with the torn half-trawler that covered her legs, the wefts pulled and worn in a way that seemed purposeful. On the feet, a pair of heavy black boots.

While gluing the top of the poster, his arms raised above his head, Sam noticed the shiny bracelets on his wrists, some thin and delicate, others larger, tingling gently with the movement. There was something in the way she moved, as if she were alone in the world, without the slightest idea that she was being watched.

Should he say something? Or simply continue there, absorbing the scene as if it were a moving painting?

Sam didn't know, but for some reason, he couldn't look away.

He was so immersed in his thoughts that he didn't even notice when the girl finished pasting the poster and turned to get another one in one of the boxes. It was only when her eyes met his that Sam felt the impact of the moment—she stopped abruptly, her fingers still hovering over the paper, clearly surprised to see him there.

Her body gave a little startle, her eyes widening slightly before she blinked quickly, as if trying to process his unexpected presence there, standing at the gate of her garage.

Sam noticed at the same time and struggled to react.

“Oh, shit—sorry. I...” he passed a hand over the back of his neck, looking away for a second, trying to recompose the words before it sounded even stranger.—I just listened to the music.

The girl let out a short laugh, a little nervous, still catching her breath from the little fright. Her lips curled into a light smile, while she shook her head.

“Is it too high?”

“No” he answered too fast and soon cleared his throat, trying to look less desperate.—I mean, no. I recognized the song and just... wanted to see who was listening.

She tilted her head slightly to the side, watching him with curiosity now, her eyes analyzing his figure as if trying to fit him into some mental category.

Old and sly pants. Moss green T-shirt with Che Guevara's face faded. Equally worn sneakers. The black hair is kind of messy, with a blue rebellious strand standing out between the strands. And the eyes—contorned with black pencil.

“Do you like that sound?”Her voice was soft, but loaded with an almost palpable intensity, while her eyes shone under the dim light of the street.

Sam took a step forward, casually leaning on the gate still half open.

“Maybe...”He replied, half playful, the smile on his lips while she studied him for a few seconds, his eyebrow arched and a slight smile illuminating his face.

Without wasting time, she stretched out her hand and said:

“I'm Y/n. I moved a few weeks ago.”

Sam laughed, remembering the moving truck he had seen parked on the street.

“Yeah, I saw the truck” he replied, with a relaxed tone.

“Do you want to come in?” she asked, inviting.

He accepted the invitation and entered the room, his eyes running through every detail of the space. That's when he noticed a poster of Marilyn Manson hanging on the wall. Approaching, he asked curiously:

“Do you like him?”

She shrugged with an enigmatic smile and replied:

“More or less. They say he had an affair with Courtney Love... and, honestly, I thought it was great.”

Sam let out a nasal laugh.

She smiled and, without wasting time, walked to the small minibar leaning against the wall. After a few moments, he came back with two bottles of cold Coca-Cola and, extending one of them, said:

“Here, this one is for you.”

He gladly accepted, thanking with a nod while taking a sip. At that moment, the music changed. The sound of "Heart-Shaped Box" gave way to the ethereal atmosphere of Mazzy Star's "Roseblood", which filled the environment with an almost dreamlike melody.

“So, what were you doing alone that night?”she asked, her voice soft, but full of curiosity.

Sam hesitated for a moment, looking at the bottle in his hand. The memories of your father coming back to the fore.

“There were some complications at home...”he confessed, the tone loaded with an unexpected vulnerability.

She nodded, understanding the feeling behind the words.

“I understand”she replied, with a distant look.”Even having a kind of nice relationship with my parents, when they argue, it's the worst thing.”

He agreed silently, watching her with growing admiration. In the midst of the dim light of the room, I noticed every delicate feature of her face, the unpretentious way that made her irresistibly beautiful.

After a brief comfortable silence, she broke the pause:

“And you, which bands do you like?”

While talking, Sam let himself be carried away by the fascination of the surrounding environment. He walked slowly towards the stacked boxes, where he discovered real treasures: vintage vinyl records, exotic decorations, colorful candles and small miniatures of porcelain ballerinas, all carefully packed.

She approached slowly, her silent steps matching the atmosphere of the place.

“Did you know that I love collecting these things? Especially the ballerinas” she said, her eyes twinkling with enthusiasm. “I've already prepared my room to be able to put them in their proper place.”

“Y/n, come to dinner!”

The male voice, deep and familiar, echoed through the garage, interrupting the silence that formed while both admired the collection.

It was her father, calling her to the table. She gave Sam a look of silent excuses. He, still holding the Coca-Cola, smiled embarrassed and said:

“Thanks for the Coke, it was super nice to talk to you. I think you are, without a doubt, the coolest neighbor on this block. And, again, apologies for the fright.”

She laughed, in a sweet and unmalicious way, and replied:

“You're welcome, Sam. It was a pleasure to meet you. See you soon.”

Sam left the garage and, outside, saw her waving shyly before closing the gate. With the can of Coca-Cola in hand, he headed towards his house. Each step made the problems with his father seem a little smaller, and, with a light heart, he could hardly wait for dawn, so he could have the chance to talk to his nice neighbor again, and maybe ask her out.

[howyouloveyourdragon]

dividers by hitobaby

͎𓇢𓆸 Lavender Haze ʚɞ Summary: 'Meet me at midnight...', The Realm's Delight has a secret, a secret that she delights in Fleabottom with unapproved company... ʚɞ Pairing: Rhaenyra Targaryen x Fem!Prostitute!Reader ʚɞ Warnings: Brief sexual content

͎𓇢𓆸 Mastermind ʚɞ Summary: Rhaenyra, eldest child of Viserys Targaryen who is leader of one of the strongest businesses finds herself enraptured by a pretty reporter ʚɞ Pairing: Modern!Rhaenyra Targaryen x Journalist!Reader ʚɞ Warnings: None

𓇢𓆸 Pearls* ʚɞ Summary: Three women, two purses and one whirlwind affair behind your best friend's back. It was never supposed to go past your uni accommodation but suddenly a set of pearls look very appealing...will you bite the bait? ʚɞ Pairing: Modern!Sugar Mommy!Rhaenyra Targaryen x Sugar Baby!Reader x Modern!Sugar Mommy!Alicent Hightower ʚɞ Warnings: Smut (edging, mommy kink, cunnilingus, light bondage, strap-on)

​🇼​​🇮​​🇵​​🇸​ 𓇢𓆸 A Sunset Seal ʚɞ Summary: Rhaenyra had never much liked the thought of being used like a pawn and especially not after she meets a mysterious man who also hates the chains that marriage embraces. When they both find themselves betrothed to people unknown they plan to run away together...they just do not know how very close they are to their own curse ʚɞ Pairing: Rhaenyra Targaryen x Male!Martell!Reader ʚɞ Warnings: Betrothals

𓇢𓆸 Of Lances and Thorns ʚɞ Summary: Rhaenyra's world stopped spinning the day her father married her best friend but when her wallowing is interrupted by the chastised older Hightower, she finds that there may be some silver amidst her grey. ʚɞ Pairing: Princess!Rhaenyra Targaryen x Male!Hightower!Reader ʚɞ Warnings: Betrothals, misogyny, smut

𓇢𓆸 Perfect* ʚɞ Summary: Rhaenyra has never been more bored than when on her tour for marital prospects...but then she met that sweet red haired girl with the most sweet doe eyes. What doesn't bore her are all the stirring images her mind curates at the sight of the innocent riña in her bed. ʚɞ Pairing: Princess!Rhaenyra Targaryen x Tully!Reader ʚɞ Warnings: Smut

͎𓇢𓆸 Only Queen ʚɞ Summary: A Queen needs her loyal handmaiden...even when her heart and hope has been broken and torn from her without a further glance... ʚɞ Pairing: Queen!Alicent Hightower x Fem!Handmaiden!Reader ʚɞ Warnings: None

͎𓇢𓆸 Last Kiss ʚɞ Summary: 'I never thought we'd have a last kiss...' If Alicent had known that that would be your last kiss then she would have held you a lot tighter... ʚɞ Pairing: Queen!Alicent Hightower x Fem!Handmaiden!Reader ʚɞ Warnings: Death

𓇢𓆸 Pearls* ʚɞ Summary: Three women, two purses and one whirlwind affair behind your best friend's back. It was never supposed to go past your uni accommodation but suddenly a set of pearls look very appealing...will you bite the bait? ʚɞ Pairing: Modern!Sugar Mommy!Rhaenyra Targaryen x Sugar Baby!Reader x Modern!Sugar Mommy!Alicent Hightower ʚɞ Warnings: Smut (edging, mommy kink, cunnilingus, light bondage, strap-on)

​🇼​​🇮​​🇵​​🇸​ 𓇢𓆸 The Set Up ʚɞ Summary: Alicent is determined to find Rhaenyra a compelling match and Y/n is determined to gift his uncle a throne. When they mutually agree to convince the Velaryon's cousin to propose to the heir of Westeros, a young Queen and Lord find their intentions swaying in the worst way. They are falling in love. ʚɞ Pairing: Queen!Alicent Hightower x Male!Velaryon!Reader ʚɞ Warnings: Betrothals, misogyny, tooth-aching fluff

𓇢𓆸 My Breeze of Decay ʚɞ Summary: Falling in love comes easy to you, a love match unites you with a beauty of the Lands and once you are wed, you could not be more elated...until a horrible incident occurs and her fate is left with the gods. Can you travel the journey to her? ʚɞ Pairing: Eurydice!Alicent Hightower x Reader ʚɞ Warnings: Death

𓇢𓆸 Everybody Wants You ʚɞ Summary: You're tired of all the rumours; that your betrothed has found loyalties of the heart elsewhere, in Winterfell. ʚɞ Pairing: Heir!Jacaerys Velaryon x Betrothed!Fem!Reader ʚɞ Warnings: Infidelity accusations, miscommunication, angst, eventual fluff

𓇢𓆸 Namesday ʚɞ Summary: You spend your namesday with you two favourite princes... ʚɞ Pairing: Prince!Jacaerys Velaryon x Reader x Prince!Aemond Targaryen ʚɞ Warnings: Smut (piv, cunnilingus)

𓇢𓆸 The Heart Bestowed ʚɞ Summary: Jacaerys loves nothing more than a duty fulfilled. Y/n has other impressions. Ever since they were young, they presumed that they would some day find one another in the Sept amongst family and reciting practiced vows to one another. However, they could not be more different nor more infuriated in their joined presence. Neither of them have any greater desires than to quell the other...So why do they feel so disappointed when they are both betrothed to another? ʚɞ Pairing: Prince!Jacaerys Velaryon x Fem!Tyrell!Reader ʚɞ Warnings: Betrothals

𓇢𓆸 No Rest For The Dragons ʚɞ Summary: All is quiet but no sense of peace can be caught between your fingertips, not even at night and so it is difficult to find sleep. Not until you win the war and crown your prince victorious...Your betrothed, Jacaerys, seems to have other priorities. ʚɞ Pairing: Heir!Jacaerys Velaryon x Fem!Betrothed!Reader ʚɞ Warnings: Talk of war

𓇢𓆸 The Softest Love ʚɞ Summary: Sometimes all you need is a gentle lover and a comforting hand, Jacaerys knows this all too well with you at his side and a crown at his temple ʚɞ Pairing: King!Jacaerys Velaryon x Fem!Wife!Reader ʚɞ Warnings: Brief talk of war

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𓇢𓆸 Just a Little ʚɞ Summary: You cannot remember a day where your heart has ever swelled nor a day where your throat has caught so quickly than the night you met Cregan Stark with his broad arms and swoon-worthy stare. He is the epitome of the North, resembling a man stern, sensible and strong. You are sure that no man is more worthy of your love and attention. So you enlist the assistance of your childhood friend Jacaerys. You have never been wondrous in your attempts to charm suitors but the man to have a new love every travel? He surely must know what can romance your newest interest, you are also certain that your love trusts him above no other. They are practically brothers. But when Jacaerys agrees, willing to give you the sun if you so much as wish it, you start to feel a growing warmth in your gut, a curling ribbon squeezing your heart. Oh dear... ʚɞ Pairing: Prince!Jacaerys Velaryon x Fem!Best-Friend!Reader ʚɞ Warnings: Mild angst

𓇢𓆸 Lack of Lessons ʚɞ Summary: "Love comes later,, Your mother had told you - promised you - and yet you feel no love as the King's son rolls his eyes at your presence and begrudgingly takes your hand...Until a second prince catches your eye. You find yourself in lessons with his nephew as you both learn to navigate the new world you have been thrust into. ʚɞ Pairing: Prince!Jacaerys Velaron x Fem!Highborn!Reader ʚɞ Warnings: Rivals to lovers, betrothals

𓇢𓆸 Gold Rush ʚɞ Summary: 'I don't like slow motion double vision in rose blush...' Aegon didn’t like most people but he liked you until it tore him from the inside out. You’re perfect, his gold and shimmering light. The problem? He’s not perfect. He’s not even a third of what you will one day amount to and everybody knows it…even him. ʚɞ Pairing: Modern!Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader ʚɞ Warnings: angst, mentions & depictions of alcoholism, car crash, fluff

𓇢𓆸 Sweet Girl* ʚɞ Summary: Aegon and Aemond are less than impressed when they hear that their sweet girl has been betrothed to a man of House Blackwood. They decide she must be claimed in every way a dragon can be claimed and perhaps they may discover even more. ʚɞ Pairing: Prince!Aegon II Targaryen x Niece!Reader x Prince!Aemond Targaryen ʚɞ Warnings: Smut (piv, oral (male & female receiving,light degradation, spit, praise, corruption, overstimulation, soft, rough, hickeys), possessiveness, incest

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𓇢𓆸 Prince of Rouge* ʚɞ Summary: Moulin Rouge AU - The year is 1899 when you enter your new city's most hailed night club and meet the mysterious Aegon. After a night of passion and lingering glances, you come to find that he has already been promised to another and a choice paints your mind. Fizzle your desires or dance in secret hallways. ʚɞ Pairing: Satine!Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader ʚɞ Warnings: Smut

𓇢𓆸 The Memories* ʚɞ Summary: Aegon hadn't touched his drinks in years but when he sees your face in his nightmares, he will do anything to forget that fateful night. ʚɞ Pairing: King!Aegon II Targaryen x Baratheon!Reader ʚɞ Warnings: Smut, Betrothals

𓇢𓆸 Eagerness* ʚɞ Summary: Aegon has never craved anything like he has craved the eagerness of your touch... ʚɞ Pairing: Prince!Aegon II Targaryen x Greyjoy!Reader ʚɞ Warnings: Smut

𓇢𓆸 Some Thread of Time ʚɞ Summary: It has been years since Aemond has seen his childhood companion, once attached to the hip and now mere strangers harbouring the same memories but no matter how long it's been, he can't seem to let go ʚɞ Pairing: Prince!Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Highborn!Reader ʚɞ Warnings: Angst

𓇢𓆸 Sweet Girl* ʚɞ Summary: Aegon and Aemond are less than impressed when they hear that their sweet girl has been betrothed to a man of House Blackwood. They decide she must be claimed in every way a dragon can be claimed and perhaps they may discover even more. ʚɞ Pairing: Prince!Aegon II Targaryen x Niece!Reader x Prince!Aemond Targaryen ʚɞ Warnings: Smut (piv, oral (male & female receiving,light degradation, spit, praise, corruption, overstimulation, soft, rough, hickeys), possessiveness, incest

𓇢𓆸 Namesday ʚɞ Summary: You spend your namesday with you two favourite princes... ʚɞ Pairing: Prince!Jacaerys Velaryon x Reader x Prince!Aemond Targaryen ʚɞ Warnings: Smut (piv, cunnilingus)

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𓇢𓆸 Some Seam of Regret ʚɞ Summary: Aemond's childhood love has finally returned to court after a less than standard herald calls for her...But she arrives with her husband. ʚɞ Pairing: Prince!Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Married!Reader ʚɞ Warnings: Angst, death

𓇢𓆸 Some Ghost of Time ʚɞ Summary: Before betrothals and schemes and untold plots; a prince loved a lady and a lady loved a prince. Never had a soul think such a pairing to be doomed but alas they do not know yet of this tale... ʚɞ Pairing: Young!Prince!Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Married!Reader ʚɞ Warnings: Angst, depiction of violence

𓇢𓆸 Crystals* ʚɞ Summary: You have been a travelling bard ever since you were young but after accidentally being left in Harrenhal, you are left at the mercy of a witch and her prince... ʚɞ Pairing: Dark!Alys Rivers x Bard!Reader x Dark!Prince Aemond Targaryen ʚɞ Warnings: Smut, obsession, possessiveness

𓇢𓆸 Maroon ʚɞ Summary: 'The lips I used to call home, so scarlet, it was maroon...' All will be well so long as Helaena is able to keep her precious handmaiden safe...if she is not? Well that is another question... ʚɞ Pairing: Queen!Helaena Targaryen x Fem!Handmaiden!Reader ʚɞ Warnings: Angst, mention of suicide

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𓇢𓆸 I Think He did It ʚɞ Summary: Helaena has been your friend for a long time. She tells you everything, what she ate that morning, whether her spider, Dreamfyre, snuck out again or how the children are but most importantly where she suspects her husband to be spending his nights because it is most certainly not in her bed. So it is no surprise who you are suspicious of when she suddenly goes missing. ʚɞ Pairing: Modern!Helaena Targaryen x Fem!Best-Friend!Reader ʚɞ Warnings: Murder, infidelity

𓇢𓆸 Remnants* ʚɞ Summary: They say that you never forget your first love but the vultures are prey to weakness and intend to infiltrate Daemon’s own desires to preserve his adere riñus (slippery girl). Some say the woman will forever remain in his conscience, guiding his bloodied sword and singing sweet lost lullabies to lay his rest. For it has been too long since the volatile dragon slept peaceful. A prince with more gold than he can keep. A prince who can demand whatever he wishes and command any army. And yet all he is left with…All he is left with are the remnants of her which he swore to cherish as religiously as he would an idol. ʚɞ Pairing: Prince!Daemon Targaryen x Fem!Lowborn!Reader ʚɞ Warnings: Smut, derogatory language, prejudice, angst, disease, character death, fluff, infidelity, slowburn, classism

𓇢𓆸 The Moon ʚɞ Summary: History remembers names, not blood, he knows that all too well so why are you so important to The Sea Snake, the bastard of the Rogue Prince ʚɞ Pairing: Corlys Velaryon x Fem!Targaryen!Reader ʚɞ Warnings: None

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𓇢𓆸 The Study of Affection ʚɞ Summary: Cregan Stark cannot say that he is used to romance which is why it is so nerve-wracking when he realises the princess expects him to court her rather than negotiate an arrangement. The lord finds himself in need of help and your nephew is more than eager to provide. ʚɞ Pairing: Hand!Cregan x Fem!Targtower!Reader ʚɞ Warnings: Pining

𓇢𓆸 Crystals* ʚɞ Summary: You have been a travelling bard ever since you were young but after accidentally being left in Harrenhal, you are left at the mercy of a witch and her prince... ʚɞ Pairing: Dark!Alys Rivers x Bard!Reader x Dark!Prince Aemond Targaryen ʚɞ Warnings: Smut, obsession, possessiveness

[lady-ashfade]

–⋆˚˖𓍢Aemond Targaryen Masterlist⋆˚˖𓍢–

´*: ･ﾟ⋆˒ Welcome back! Thanks for checking me out. ╰Requests for this fandom open

˙⊹Hotd All Masterlists⊹˙ ˙⊹ Rules ⊹˙ ˙⊹Hotd Rules ⊹˙

˚୨୧₊ [How It Is][ Targ!cest, Jealously, Possessiveness, Sexual Themes]

˚୨୧₊ [The Joy][Pregnant!Reader][Pregnancy, fluff]

˚୨୧₊ [Blind Innocence][Dark!Yandere][Blood, Death, Murder, Dark Themes]

˚୨୧₊[Blessed From Above][Young!Aemond & Reader][Forced marriage, young love, short and fast paced, underline yan! Alicent and aemond]

˚୨୧₊ [Bounded By Birth][Yandere, Hcs, fem!reader, Various characters.][Lucerys, Jacaerys, Aemond]

˚୨୧₊[Yandere! Romantic! Various Hc's][Deamon, Helaena, Aemond][Yandere tendencys, I've made worse yandere things, so this is on the soft side. Some suggestive themes but it's not even to a high level]

˚୨୧₊[The Snap Of Thread][Dark!Yandere][Maid!reader][Spiders, Yandere behavior, Violence, Killing, Stalking, Being held captive of some sort, Pregnancy, Reader having a baby out of wedlock, Pregnant!Reader, Dead Dove Do Not Eat.]

˚୨୧₊[Golden Dove][Yandere]Male!Reader][Readers work, paying for services, yandere behavior, short stories, slightly suggestive and sexual, themes of nsfw but nothing to bad.

˚୨୧₊[PT.1][Whatever It Takes][Yandere Alicent & Aemond x Sister/daughter reader][Yandere, kidnapping, angst, blood]

˚୨୧₊[PT.2][Whatever It Takes][Yandere Alicent & Aemond x Sister/daughter reader][Yandere thrist for blood. Blood, violence, female abuse, being kidnapped and chained.]

˚୨୧₊[PT.3][Whatever It Takes][Yandere Alicent & Aemond x Sister/daughter reader][Torture, Yandere tendencies, comfort a bit]

˚୨୧₊[Alternate Ending][Whatever It Takes][Blood, death, angst, hurt and no comfort.]

˚୨୧₊[Son For A Son][Daemonds Dastard][Reader Kills Aemond][blood & gore, murder and death, reader killing, reader being her father, uncanon events, poison]

˚୨୧₊[Modern Hc’s][Modern au, short, fluffy, Various Characters]

╰･ﾟ✧☽ Yan!House Of The Dragon

˚୨୧₊[Say it][Blood, the scene of vaemon dying, swearing, yandere, Fem!reader]

˚୨୧₊[Day Of Thanks][Yandere, dark, killing & murder,death, blood]

˚୨୧₊[Yan!Mother!Alicent targaryen x Crybaby!Fem!Reader. Vs other Yandere house of the dragon characters][Yandere, toxic]

˚୨୧₊[More Then A Eye][Yandere, blood, reader losses a eye instead, Fem!Reader]

╰･ﾟ✧☽ Series

˚୨୧₊[Pt.1 Hybrid Reader × Yandere HOTD][Yandere, angst, comfort, death, Dragon!Fem!Reader, Blood, Reader in pain]

˚୨୧₊[Pt.2 Hybrid Reader × Yandere HOTD][Yandere, angst, comfort, death, Dragon!Fem!Reader, Blood]

˚୨୧₊[Preview of- A Dimond Of Blood And Possession][Preview, Yandere, Vesent!Fem!Reader, Yandere tendencies, child abuse, slaves, killing, blood, obsessive and possessiveness, unhealthy relationships.]

˚୨୧₊[Symbol Reborn][Yandere behavior: obsession. protective, unhealthy behavior, toxic, death, violence, visions, the hotd world, mini series, un canon events.]

˚୨୧₊[Yandere House Velaryon/House Targaryen x Mermaid!Reader][Yandere, being kinda held captive, yandere behavior]

╰･ﾟ✧☽ Extra

˚୨୧₊[Most Likely To Have Kids With Reader To Make Them Stay]

˚୨୧₊[Most Likely To Kill Their Darlings Significant Other So They Can Be With Them?][Yandere]

˚୨୧₊[Most Like To Love The Children They had With The Reader]