#and clearly the idea has never once left my brain since then

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Finally // beautiful stranger

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.2k (including lyrics)

Warnings: angst, mostly fluff

Summary: You’ve got your heart broken once and you refuse to do it again. When a tall, green-eyed stranger walks into your life, you have to make sure he’s going to stay before letting him in completely.

Square Filled: finally // beautiful stranger by halsey (2020) for @spnsongchallengebingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Your eyes, so crisp, so green Sour apple baby, but you taste so sweet You got hips like Jagger and two left feet And I wonder if you'd like to meet

The only twenty-four-hour diner is across town from where you live but you find yourself in it anyway. The place isn’t busy considering it’s nearing one in the morning but you don’t want to go home. If you do, you’ll think about him and you really don’t want to cry yourself to sleep. At last here, you can compose yourself not to cry in front of people.

That, and you’re always hungry after getting your heart broken.

“Let me top your coffee off,” the waitress says and fills your cup again.

“I want another round, please. Bourbon. Neat.”

“Sure.”

When the waitress leaves, you finally notice the two men on the other side of the diner. One has his back to you but the other one is facing toward you and by God, this man is gorgeous. Even from where you’re sitting, you can see his crisp green eyes. Like candy apples. The sight makes you sad. Your ex was just as beautiful, and here you are eating your sorrows away. You look down and take a bite of your pie with a sniffle. The waitress comes back with your Bourbon, and you take a big gulp of it.

The green-eyed man says something to his friend before walking over to you.

“Are you okay?”

You down the rest of the Bourbon even though it burns. “What makes you think I’m not?”

“You’re crying.”

“Yeah, because of pig-headed men. I hate men,” you scoff and take another bite of your pie.

He chuckles not at you but at your comment. “Can I sit?”

“Sure. Want some of my pie? Alcohol fills me up and I won’t be able to eat this all.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” He takes your fork and scoops some pie onto it before eating it. “My name is Dean.”

“I hope you treat your lady better than my man did, Dean.”

“I don’t have a lady but if I did, I would.” You nod and take the fork back for another bite. “Want me to beat him up?”

Maybe it’s your drunken brain or maybe it was genuinely funny, but you laugh at the thought of your ex getting beat by some stranger.

“You might not be able to take him on. He’s pretty big.”

“You clearly have no idea who I am, sweetheart. I’ll get my brother to help.” You giggle and bite your lower lip to stop your grin from spreading too wide. “What a shame.”

“What?”

“I know I shouldn’t be hitting on you but that guy doesn’t know what he gave up.”

“What do you mean?”

“He had a woman with the most gorgeous smile. If you were mine, I’d never want to stop seeing it.”

You smile again, this time, a shy one. It makes you sad because all beautiful men are like this.

Your voice is velvet through a telephone You can come to mine, but both my roommates are home Think I know a bar where they would leave us alone And I wonder if you'd take it slow

You and Dean kept in touch after meeting him half-drunk and crying over another man, and you’re kind of nervous to let him in more. You have a daughter who you love dearly, and bringing in strangers isn’t something you want to do to her. You don’t want her getting to know someone, bond with him, only for him to leave. Her father didn't want her so how can you expect anyone else to stay?

You and Dean hang when you can, when you have someone else to watch her, but finding a sitter is hard enough as it is. You don’t make a lot of money because you depended on your ex-boyfriend for everything. You didn’t have to work when he paid for everything. You’re trying your best even if it doesn’t feel like it.

“It’s been a while since I’ve heard your voice,” Dean says over the phone.

His voice is so velvety smooth that it makes you get butterflies from words alone.

“Sorry, I’ve been a bit busy. It’s been hard to get away.”

“I get it. Look, I have some free time now. I’d like to see you.”

You think of Amelia and how you can’t leave her here alone. She’s only six, she needs someone to watch her.

“I’d love to, Dean, but I have a daughter here that I can’t leave alone. I can’t afford a sitter right now otherwise I’d say yes.”

“Right. Of course, I understand.”

He sounds disappointed. You bite your lower lip in thought. Your sister lives a few houses down from you. If she says yes, you can leave and hang with Dean at a bar or something. You don’t want him coming here. As much as you like him, you’re not ready for Amelia to meet him.

“Let me ask my sister if she can watch her. I’ll text you if I can or not.”

“If you can, I’ll be at Joe’s. I hope to see you there.”

You immediately dial your sister because it’s a lot harder for her to say no to you over the phone rather than text.

“Hey, Y/N.”

“Okay, don’t say no right away. Just listen to me.”

“You want me to watch Amelia?”

“Just for a little bit. Maybe a couple of hours. I met this guy. His name is Dean.” You hear her sigh which makes you pause. You know this sigh. It’s a disappointed sigh. “Jess, it’s not what you think.”

“You just broke up with Trevor how long ago? You already met someone?”

“It’s not like I’m going to marry him. I just… I can’t explain it. He’s nice…”

“Trevor was nice.”

“Jess, please? Just a couple of hours. I’ll pay you if you want.”

“No, you don’t need to do that,” she sighs. “Fine, I’ll watch her only for two hours.”

“You got it. Thank you.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing. I’d hate to see you hurt over yet another guy.”

Trust me, me too. After she comes over, Amelia is happy to see her aunt. Joe’s is only ten minutes from your place, and you text Dean you’ll be right there. He’s in the back playing with darts when you arrive, and you head over with a smile.

“I’m glad you could make it.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“So, you have a daughter?”

“Yeah, her name is Amelia. She’s my pride and joy. My ex was her father, and you know that didn’t end too well. I’d have you come over but I don’t want her meeting someone still so new, you know?”

“Yeah. I get it. Trust me.”

“I like you, Dean. I just need to take it slow.”

“Whatever you need to feel safe.”

Just like that, you fall for him a bit more.

I grab your hand and then we run to the car Singin' in the street and playin' air guitar Stuck between my teeth just like a candy bar And I wonder if it goes too far to say

After two months of dating, you decide it’s best if he gets to meet Amelia. You’re not sure if it’s going to crash and burn or work out but you have to put faith in this decision. Dean has been nothing but good to you, so you’re taking the chance he’ll love your daughter. Amelia knows you’ve been seeing someone. She’s not stupid. She’s a very smart six-year-old--too smart for her own good.

“Dean is almost here.”

“Do you like him, Mommy?”

“I do,” you smile.

Amelia shrugs and goes back to coloring. Dean shows up in his gorgeous Impala that you love riding in. He even let you drive it once which was thrilling. You leave Amelia coloring in the living room to greet Dean at the door. He keeps the kiss short and sweet knowing your daughter is here. You turn to let him in when you see your daughter standing right behind you with her hands on her hips.

“Hi, you must be Amelia. My name is--”

“Are you gonna break my Mommy’s heart like Daddy did?”

You’re taken aback by the question. Dean doesn’t seem scared by her sass, in fact, he encourages it.

“No, I won’t.”

“You better not, mister. I know how to fight.” Dean can’t help but laugh. “You better be a good one.”

“Okay, why don’t you go play in your room.” Amelia leaves without another word, and you close the front door with an apologetic face. “I’m sorry about her. It’s been rough lately.”

“She’s a cute kid. I know we agreed to stay in tonight, but what do you say I take you and Amelia out? Maybe to a zoo? I bet she’d love seeing the animals.”

You look out the window and see his shiny black car. You love his car but it’s not suitable for Amelia.

“You know I love your car, but there are no seatbelts. I am not putting my baby in a car with no seatbelts.”

“Yeah, okay,” he nods.

You two settle on the couch and put a movie on that you both love. Within the first act, he pulls you into him and wraps his arm around you. You should be happy, and you’re trying really hard to be, but Trevor behaved the exact same way. He was so nice and loving in the beginning but he let his true colors show later on. Had you not run when you did, you would have had bruises on your body from him.

Still, through all that fear, you can’t seem to stay away from Dean.

I've never recognized a purer face You stopped me in my tracks and put me right in my place Used to think that lovin' meant a painful chase But you're right here now and I think you'll stay

It’s been a week since Dean promised to take you and Amelia to the zoo. He promised to have a car that is safe enough for your daughter, so you’re not sure if that means upgrading the Impala or getting another car altogether. Dean loves his car so you don’t think he’d give up his precious car for you.

“Amelia, are you ready?”

“Yes!”

“Are you excited?”

“I can’t wait to see the lions, Mama! And the giraffes!”

“If you’re lucky, you might get a kiss from a giraffe.”

Amelia giggles as you help put her shoes on.

“I hope you keep this one. I like him.”

“I like him, too.” Then again, I liked the other one. A car you don’t recognize pulls up to your house, and you take two steps outside to see who it could be. Dean exits and smiles when he sees your confused face. He’s not driving his beloved Impala. He’s driving a new version of a Dodge Ram. “Whose car is that?”

“Mine. I bought it yesterday.”

“Why?”

“It has seatbelts.” Your heart melts a bit. “Now I can take Amelia out without you worrying about her safety. I hear this is a really good car.”

“You’d do that for her?”

“I’d do that for you.”

You want to move toward him and kiss him but you’re stuck. You can’t move. You’re shocked because Trevor would have never done this for you or Amelia. He loved driving sports cars that were never safe for children, and he refused to get a car that could support her.

Dean might be a keeper.

Oh, we're dancin' in my livin' room And up come my fists And I say, I'm only playing, but The truth is this I've never seen a mouth that I would kill to kiss And I'm terrified, but the truth is this I said Beautiful stranger, here you are in my arms and I know That beautiful strangers only come along to do me wrong And I hope Beautiful stranger, here you are in my arms And I think it's finally, finally, finally, finally, finally safe For me to fall

Amelia is sleeping but you and Dean wanted to have date night. Your sister isn’t in town to watch her and you didn’t want to take her to a bar at such a late hour. Dean offered to bring the date to you, which is why you two are slow dancing in your darkened living room. The only source of light is the candles you lit prior to him coming.

Soft rock flows through your speakers at a low tone so as not to wake Amelia, but Dean doesn’t mind. Dean runs his hands down your waist and grips your hips gently, and you lean up to press your lips against his. You’ve never felt this way about anyone, not even Trevor. He says all the right things, does all the right things, and knows exactly how to make your heart flutter.

You’re still terrified but it’s a good terrified. You’re scared of what this could mean, not that he could break your heart.

You pull away from him and stare into his beautiful green eyes.

“Don’t make me regret falling for you,” you whisper.

He leans his forehead on yours.

“I won’t.”

x

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[neptuneiris]

sparks (epilogue)

Yeah, I saw sparks And I saw sparks

pairing: business-boyfriend!aemond x fem!reader

summary: at the beginning your relationship with aemond is perfect and there were no worries. until he becomes the Heir of his father's company, the most important in the whole country and certain events and certain people start to interfere in the relationship.

word count: 9.4k

previous part • series masterlist

sorry for the delay, I had some inconveniences, but here it is finally!

unfortunately everything has an end and the time has come for this other fic of mine that i have really loved writing

i never imagined that you would like it so much, which is the same thing i say with every single thing i write and post, i know haha, but i am really surprised how much you like my ideas and how much you support me, seriously thank you

i hope that in the future we can see more of this aemond and this reader, whom i keep in my heart. i loved this idea and i am very happy that you loved it too

i love you beautiful people, see you very soon in my next fics, thanks for all the support to sparks:)

warnings: angst, language, sexual content, smut

Never before in your life have you felt so uncomfortable being in Aemond's presence.

How did we come to this?

You ask yourself, incredulous and with sadness in your chest, as you can't even look at him.

The awkwardness lingers because you both have seen each other again after almost five long months where you knew nothing about each other, also because everything between you ended badly and it's just too much now to be here together in his car… alone.

At first when Jenna got out of the car once you got to her dorm you thought about staying in the back seats, but you knew it wouldn't make any sense, neither did Aemond say anything to you but you decided not to make this even more uncomfortable.

So you got out of the car, said goodbye to her and with your shaky legs you move to the passenger seat.

You avoid looking at him at all times as you buckle up, but the shoulder-to-shoulder approach seems too much for you and the space in the car feels small even though you've been in here before.

You both watch as Jenna enters her residence building safely and once you see her disappear through the glass doors, an awkward silence envelops you both even with his music playing in the background.

Until finally your dumb brain reacts and uncomfortably you shuffle in the seat, swallow hard as your throat feels dry and you bite your lips for a second.

Aemond tries not to look at you, but does so out of the corner of his eye, as he looks straight ahead with an expectant gaze while keeping one hand on his chin and the other on the steering wheel.

Clearly he's waiting for directions, which you don't understand in the first few seconds, feeling incredibly nervous.

"It's four blocks down, then left," you point out trying not to make your voice sound nervous.

He doesn't say anything, just understands the directions and starts the car again.

You watch the window at all times, avoiding eye contact of any kind with Aemond, who is totally focused on the road and also feels the same way as you, where neither of you knows what to say.

And now you are both here, again with that silence between the two of you and that heavy tension in the air that makes you both feel uncomfortable, since not even the music helps. Neither of you speaks for as long as the drive lasts.

So it's easier for both of you to just keep quiet and wait for this to be over.

You on your side also experience a mixture of intense emotions. You want to talk to him, you really want to try, you even want to offer him your condolences for his father's death, but you can't find the right words to speak and the worry that you will make things worse keeps you silent.

Aemond on the one hand wants to break the ice and find a way to try to talk to you, but the uncertainty and fear of rejection paralyze him.

It's very difficult, he can't, he doesn't feel capable and all he feels is that sharp pain in his chest.

Not to mention the incredible nerves you feel all over your body.

As the ride continues, you watch in the distance as some lightning flashes in the night sky, catching your attention. You briefly glance out of the corner of your eye at Aemond but continue to keep your gaze firmly on the window.

Not until a few minutes later a gentle rain begins to fall, creating a sort of melancholy atmosphere, which you don't know if that makes the whole situation worse.

But there are also more words you want to say, but you just can't.

The raindrops gently tap against the windshield, Aemond turns on the windshield wipers and slows down a bit.

You realize that it's not long before you have to tell him what your building is, but you still feel that lump in your throat that prevents you from speaking, even to tell him something as simple as that.

You recognize that you were the one who broke up with him and that although it hurt you too and you also suffered, you also recognize that you caused him more pain by deciding to end it all that way, taking advantage of his situation.

But you really want to offer him your heartfelt condolences, to let him know that despite everything, you still care about him, but you feel the great tension all over your body.

What right do you have to say something like that to him after what happened?

What right do you have to be empathetic with him in that regard when what you did with him trying to find you to fix things, was that you blocked him from everywhere and just disappeared from his life as if you never existed?

And you can't imagine all that he must have gone through, all that he must have felt and all that he must have endured as well for his promotion in the company.

You know you have no right.

You know the damage you caused and the most acceptable thing would have been for you to have sought him out when it just happened, but you didn't.

You honestly don't know what these months have been like for him and in trying to find the words to be able to talk to him, you don't need to, as he talks.

More than anything Aemond asks you the first thing that comes to his mind after briefly seeing some small buildings with the name of your university below the name of the residence hall, breaking the silence.

"You live in a dorm now?"

He asks you with a certain disinterested and casual tone, which still makes you feel nervous, mostly at the thought of what you will say to him before you speak, still feeling that tension and awkwardness in the air.

"Yeah," you reply softly almost in a trembling tone as you still stare out the window, "Yeah, it wasn't hard to request it in the middle of the semester, you know… because of the scholarship."

You bite your lips, feeling really very nervous indeed even though the ice has been broken, though not really. And Aemond only hums in a nodding sound, not taking his gaze off the road and not saying anything else.

You bite your lips again, wishing he would say something back, anything, so you can talk to him, tell him what you want to tell him, but the words continue to get stuck in your throat and he says nothing more.

The ride continues for a few more long minutes until you see through the window that it is almost time to tell him which building is yours, causing you to despair.

Now or never.

You say to yourself, then begin to gather bravery and fill with courage, finally letting out a long breath and without thinking too much, you look at him again and speak.

"I'm sorry about your father," you say in a soft and compassionate voice, daring to look at him.

A complex mixture of feelings invade Aemond inside, definitely not expecting that.

He hides his astonishment, still fixing his eyes on the road, suddenly feeling a knot in his stomach, as well as feeling a warmth expand throughout his chest at your words.

He doesn't know what to say.

Much less what to do.

What would have happened if you had been with him at the time when his father left this world and he went on to become the head of all Targaryen Inc?

Even though the two of you didn't end well and now he feels that support from you towards him, however small it may be, it still made him feel grateful.

Although… he can't help but feel sad too, as inevitably his mind takes him back to remembering the good times when you and he were together.

Your words spill out all over the inside of the car, suddenly feeling vulnerable and exposed due to his lack of response, until he finally clears his throat as he shifts a little uncomfortably in his seat, then nods, even though he doesn't return your gaze.

Probably everything would have been a little easier.

That's why he also feels a bit angry to see once again how everything is now between the two of you, where there is no longer an 'us'.

"Thank you," he says back in a soft, emotionless voice, not daring to look at you.

And again another awkward silence sets in.

You want to ask him how he is, what he has done, how is the company, his mother, Hel, even Aegon and Daeron, you want to know what happened to his grandsire and Alys Rivers, but again… you can't speak.

At least you're thankful he didn't ignore you after you ignored him and you feel a weight off your heart, you look out the window again while biting your lower lip, still feeling that awkwardness and that tension all over the air, but strangely feeling a little relieved.

And finally that moment comes, you see your residence in the distance.

With this also coming to an end, with a resigned feeling you point to the building, again feeling on edge just from talking to him.

"It's over there," you point to him and he doesn't say anything to you, just starts to pull up to the curb to park.

You swallow hard and Aemond brings the car to a complete stop, right in front of the doors of your building, then continues to stare ahead, expectantly, waiting for the moment when you will get out of his car and probably never see you again.

With a sadness in your chest, you grab your phone and also your purse to get out, also being aware that after this, you probably won't see him again for a while. Or maybe never again, because of your new job position.

And that disappoints you, makes you feel sad and inevitably, you resist the urge to cry.

"Thank you, I really appreciate it," you tell him honestly and sincerely, placing your hand on the handle to open the door and walk out.

He just hums back with a slight nod, not watching you, his hand resting on the steering wheel and the other on his chin, his gaze straight ahead, which hurts you, that he can't even watch you. At least not at this moment.

Because he doesn't want to see you go again.

He doesn't want to have another image of you leaving, leaving him, not knowing when he will see you again or if he will even see you again.

Again you feel that sharp pain in your chest as he apart from not being able to watch you, he can not even speak to you again, just waiting for this to be over and nothing more.

Although… just as you are about to open the door to leave and enter your building, you stop.

And you understand. You understand his lack of interactivity and also his lack of words. But this is just as painful for you as it is for him.

Your shoulders slump from the tension you were feeling, suddenly feeling defeated and like you have nothing left to lose. That's why you stop all your movements and with a thoughtful and disappointed look, with your lips parted you turn to watch him.

And that's when you finally ask him the question that was always invading your mind since you broke up with him, even crying, being more of a statement than a question but now you can finally know his answer.

Aemond frowns slightly as he notices out of the corner of his eye how you stop and don't get out of his car.

He feels your gaze on him and when you don't move any further nor say anything to him, he finally looks directly into your eyes with a confused and expectant expression at the same time.

You know your question is risky, but you need to know.

"Do you hate me?"

You ask him with uncertainty in your voice, your eyes full of sadness.

"Because of how I ended things?"

A heavy silence again fills the interior of the car for a moment with your words hovering, as Aemond feels astonishment again but hides it well, also not expecting to hear those words from you, as an unfamiliar feeling settles in his chest.

He remains completely silent, thinking about your question and also what he will tell you next.

Answer with the truth or be just as cruel to you, as you were to him, even if it's not true?

The simple question in his mind makes him feel absurd and also makes him scold himself, as it doesn't make any sense.

The sound of the light rain still patters softly against the car, the lightning continues to reflect every minute, his music also plays softly in the background in that delicate moment, where you wait for an answer and he feels a whirlwind of emotions, contemplating the question with seriousness.

And finally he breaks the silence between the two of you, deciding to answer your question honestly, still focused on the road and not watching you.

"No."

His voice is clear, but with a slight sadness and his answer makes you feel more that pain in your chest and also that a new knot forms in your throat, feeling more the urge to cry, but inexplicably you feel a relief inside because of his answer.

Despite everything, he doesn't hate you.

You think with wonder and longing, for he should hate you, really. Yet he doesn't. And you don't know if that just makes everything worse.

"I-I thought…" you begin to say, trying to control your trembling voice, "I thought you had moved on and—

And after his confession, Aemond lets out another long breath, not saying or doing anything else, still expectant of what you will do, whether you will finally get off or say something else.

And you nod your head slightly as you bite the inside of your cheek, chasing away your tears.

You stop as you hear him let out an incredulous snort with an amused grin, shaking his head, averting his gaze from the road for a moment, feeling anger sweep through his body.

"Do I look like I've moved on?"

And before you can say anything else, he speaks again.

He asks you as he finally watches you with disbelief and anticipation in his gaze. And you bite your lips, further controlling the urge to cry, as Aemond turns his gaze forward, clenching his jaw in annoyance.

"You did what you thought was right and necessary at the time," he says seriously, "It wasn't what I wanted but I don't blame you because I know I made mistakes too," he acknowledges, "My father's death just made everything worse," he says finally, still with annoyance in his gaze.

And right after his words and silence again settles between the two of you, you know you have nothing more to do here.

The rain continues to fall and with your heart in a fist, you finally decide to get out of his car and take refuge in your room, where you will cry yourself to sleep. So you grab the door handle, making sure one last time that you have all your things with you.

You withdraw your tears and speak without daring to look at him.

"Thanks again for the ride."

You tell him for the last time in your soft, sad, broken voice, controlling your emotions and your sobs.

And just as you open the door and the sound of the rain becomes more audible, before one of your legs touches the ground and you get completely out of the car, this time it is Aemond's voice that stops you.

"And do you hate me?"

His question with a soft tone makes you stop immediately, making you freeze in surprise for a moment, since you did not expect that, and then slowly turn your gaze back to him, where he is already watching you with the same need to know your answer as you were watching him before.

He notices your glassy eyes, he notices your sadness and also how you are controlling your crying, he notices it all. And you also notice the sadness in his eyes, that longing that you can't really explain.

Because you also feel that same longing inside you.

"Do you hate me for not fighting hard enough for you?"

And in that moment, you both know he means everything.

For not fighting Otto Hightower, Alys Rivers and his work hard enough. For allowing everything to escalate, for not fixing it soon enough, for making you reach your breaking point and that's why you decided to break up with him.

And you… had never thought about it, about hating him. But you immediately know the answer, without hesitation.

"No."

And again Aemond feels caught in a whirlpool of emotions.

His gaze reflects slight surprise and also slight relief, but also regret. He honestly didn't expect to hear that answer from you. And his surprise is mixed with his confusion.

Even though his own grandsire interfered in the relationship and also his possible partner Alys Rivers in a completely improper way, where they both pretended you didn't exist and he didn't do enough to protect you and the relationship, he wonders in confusion: why? Why don't you hate him?

"You don't even do with knowing that I could have done more to make it all work?" he asks you softly and uncertainly, "So we could have been together?"

You focus your gaze on the rain-fogged windshield, watching the drops fall and slide down the glass, as you again feel a lump in your throat and process his words.

You bite your lips, again feeling the urge to cry.

Honestly you did had wanted him to have fought harder for you, for both of you. But you know it wasn't his fault. It was just things he couldn't control, things that weren't entirely in his hands.

You know that work is work and he really tried by putting his boundaries firm with Rivers and also by worrying all the time about you, all the time making you his priority.

But sadly it wasn't enough.

You let out a sigh and with your eyes on the rain, still feeling a mix of complex emotions, you speak in your calm and soft voice, mostly honest, but at the same time with a touch of sadness and resignation.

"No, I don't hate you," you clarify again, "It's not fair to blame you for what happened, the situation was complicated and we both made mistakes," you watch him with your teary eyes, "And I know I owe you an apology."

Aemond's gaze contracts into one more of sadness, watching you intently but with that hard look on his features where he tries not to break down, as the rain out there intensifies and you gently close the door again.

"I'm really sorry," you sigh, in a light sob, "I'm really sorry that I took advantage of your trip to give you no time at all. I never meant to hurt you like that," you tell him honestly, "I did what I thought was right. But you didn't deserve that."

Aemond feels a slight ache in his chest, with that feeling of sadness again taking over and his mind goes back to the past, to remembering that horrible day in that horrible moment, when you left him without looking back.

And he thinks of all he could have done and all he could have been.

But despite this, he feels a flash of relief to know that you don't really hate him, but he is also overcome with regret for apologizing to him, when he never felt the need or thought you owed him an apology before.

Just like you, he feels remorse, a longing, and that longing inside him that still lingers and grows bigger.

"I regret… everything," he tells you in a soft, low murmur, drawing your full attention, "I regret not trying harder, not showing you how much you meant to me…" he pauses a little, "Not stopping my grandsire sooner... and I'm really sorry, for everything I put you through."

And he tells you all this with restrained emotion, feeling completely vulnerable and sincere, wanting you to understand the depth of his feelings.

And you do, you really do.

But honestly, you can't take this anymore.

The rain is getting heavier and heavier and what you need is to release all the tears you've been holding back for a while now. And you don't want to cry in front of him, simply because you don't want to look so vulnerable and you want to get it over with, because in the end, he will go back to his own way and you will go back to yours.

And it's better for you to end it once and for all before it gets harder for you.

"You don't have to apologize," you say through your held back tears, "But if that's what you need to say, it's okay, I understand."

You try to keep calm in your voice, but there is a mixture of sadness and understanding in your tone. And even though Aemond feels a weight less on his shoulders, the sadness is persistent and he says nothing more, with silence enveloping them.

And that's when you decide it's time to leave.

"Take care of yourself, okay? And thanks again."

You don't watch him when you say it, you don't dare to watch him, to watch as you again leave him behind, as you quickly wipe the tears that have escaped from your cheeks and again place your hand on the handle to open the door, turning your back on him.

And here it comes, the ultimate goodbye.

Aemond noticing all this, with his sad, desperate, anguished and worried expression, says to himself too: now or never.

And again he stops you with his words.

"I fired my grandsire."

He says to you in a tone just as desperate as his face, almost in a needy tone, again stopping you and making your breath catch for a moment, listening to him carefully.

"As soon as I became head, I fired him," he tells you more plainly, watching you sadly and desperately, "Rhaenyra took his place and I never associated with Rivers," he says and between your parted lips in surprise, "In the end I cut all connection with her and her company. And instead I successfully partnered with Rodrik Greyjoy, who has connections to Dorne and Essos."

You turn your gaze slowly back to him, where he is already watching you, being completely honest with every word he is saying, drawing your attention and making you focus entirely on him, now knowing the answer to the questions you asked yourself in the pub when you saw him.

And… you don't know what to say.

His grandsire and Rivers, they're both just not around anymore.

And probably if Aemond had become the boss sooner, maybe you and he would still be together. And that's what hurts you the most, that Aemond couldn't act sooner until he was the boss.

And how you wish you could have been present at that moment in his life.

Aemond averts his gaze from yours for a moment, where neither of you say anything else nor do anything else, submerging you back into that silence that is eclipsed a bit by his music and also the rain outside.

And Aemond again summons up the courage to ask you what has been going through his mind since the relationship ended, all the while feeling a sadness inside, along with helplessness, frustration and jealousy, thinking the worst.

"Do you…" he pauses for a moment, feeling the bitterness in his tone that he can't help, "Do you have someone new?"

Your eyes immediately meet his, who watches you completely attentive to your answer, wanting, no, needing to know that question that has tormented him every night and day, making him feel jealous and annoyed.

And your gaze shows a mixture of emotions, from mild surprise to sadness and indecision. But not because of the question, but because of him.

How could he think you have someone new when he's been the greatest love of your life so far?

Practically Aemond has ruined every other man for you and you are still completely in love with him. But you understand his question, because of the sudden way you decided to break up with him.

And honestly, you too sometimes wondered the same thing, if he had found someone else or if he finally decided to get involved with Rivers.

"No," you answer him truthfully.

Just you.

You want to say, but the words get stuck in your throat.

And Aemond feels a huge relief course through his body, as he looks away from yours once more and nods his head slowly, running a hand over his chin.

And you can't help but ask him the same question with a certain cautious tone, just to make sure.

"Do you—

"Of course not," he tells you immediately, still with sadness in his gaze.

And that to this day still lingers, just in the same way that you are still in love with him.

It's also absurd for him for you to return the question, since finding someone new was the last thing on his mind.

And even though he moved on with his life and his work more than anything else, his mind and heart were still anchored to you in a way that he couldn't get over.

Aemond unable to contain his emotions any longer, finally tells you the words that have been stuck in his throat for a while now in a trembling voice.

"I haven't stopped thinking about you, not even for a moment, since you left."

His gaze meets yours, feeling just as vulnerable as you did before, as your eyes fill with emotion, longing and surprise, beginning to feel your heart beating too hard, unable to control your heart rate.

"I came to keep Floris company because I knew you would come, that's the only reason I decided to show up, because I wanted to see you again and try to talk to you, fix what I couldn't fix before, if you would let me," he tells you honestly, then lets out a bitter laugh to himself, "How could I have anyone else when it's clear I'm still completely crazy about you?" he slowly shakes his head, "I still love you, more than you or anyone else could ever imagine."

And it is there, in his most sincere confession, that he tells you that he still loves you in his slightly trembling voice.

And you for a moment, you are silent, struggling to contain your emotions. However… inevitably tears begin to slide down your cheeks freely, uncontrollably.

Tears of happiness, excitement, surprise, but also of sadness and nostalgia simply because of the situation. And Aemond seeing your state, feels like a dagger piercing his heart, still hating to see you cry and it's worse when he knows you're crying for him.

But before he can say anything to you to stop you from crying, feeling guilty, you with your emotions running high, suddenly feeling a liberating impulse, you let yourself go.

"Oh Aemond," you sigh through your tears.

And without giving him time to anticipate anything, surprisingly in an act necessitated by that impulse so suddenly in your system, you lean fully into him and press your lips to his.

And Aemond without thinking at all, though still in surprise, wastes no time at all and kisses you back in an equally needy way, also leaning completely into you, where one of his large, firm hands takes you around the back of your neck to hold you close, kissing you deep and slow.

You gasp softly into his mouth at the sensation, then move your lips again in rhythm with him, feeling every texture of his lips, those lips you missed so much, bringing your hands around his neck, clinging completely to him.

You both almost devour each other, it being a kiss with a slight mingling of teeth and where it feels so fucking good, his lips moving in coordination with yours, deep.

And you find yourself responding to his kiss now that way, being completely addictive, enjoying his warm and consuming lips, not wanting to stop, feeling your desire increase every second for wanting to feel his closeness, also that little tingle in your between leg.

"Fuck baby," he sighs into your mouth.

Then his tongue makes its way all the way inside your mouth, unable to help it, making you gasp and feel a curious sensation in your lower abdomen as well from your nickname that you haven't heard in a while.

"I love you too," you tell him in between kisses, "So fucking much. Never stop doing so."

Aemond groans in your lips, feeling that warmth from before expanding again in his chest when he hears your words, as well as he feels a fire starting to grow inside him that makes him take you with his other free hand from his hip and forces you to sit in his lap.

His moist, warm mouth welcomes you back, taking in the slight smell of beer and cigarette which doesn't displease you at all, on the contrary, it makes you continue to more fervently caress your lips with his in a deep way in wet sounds.

It's not complicated even though you are both inside his car and the steering wheel is right behind you, being a little uncomfortable, but you don't mind.

So with the same need he has to feel you close, you make yourself comfortable and with your hand around the edge of his jaw, bring his face closer to yours to kiss him again.

This way Aemond can hold both hands on your face, keeping you exactly where he wants you, then gently caress your curves and breathe hard against your face.

"I love you so much," he murmurs against you between kisses, kissing you again, "I can't get enough of you."

You slide one of your hands down his chest, inhaling deeply to return his demanding kisses, as he continues with his hands on your hips, pressing you against him, letting you feel what is happening inside his pants.

You almost let out a whimper as you feel his rigid, hard, hot arousal beneath you, almost below your center, where your juices begin to flow.

"Did you miss me?"

He asks you in a low, husky murmur, completely aroused, then pulls his lips away from yours and begins to leave soft, wet kisses down your neck, starting a trail, making you gasp loudly and tilt your head to the side to give him more accessibility.

You bite your lower lip as his hands go all the way down and briefly caress your thighs, then squeeze and lightly caress the soft skin of your ass above your skirt, increasing your arousing desire all over your insides.

"Yes baby, all the time," you reply with a little difficulty, panting and breathing hard.

"Miss you too," he says in a hoarse murmur as he kisses your collarbone, your throat and again your neck.

Placing your hand back on one of his cheeks, you kiss him again with need, beginning to move smoothly and deeply back and forth your hips against him, his hardness slamming directly against your center, making you moan.

Aemond lets out a deep growl as he feels the friction of your movements against him, squeezing both of your ass cheeks with more fervor, not wanting you to stop.

Simply everything around you both disappears at that moment, the rain is still coming down hard and you're both too busy to worry if someone will walk by and see you like this.

"I want you, now," he murmurs against your lips, breathing and panting just as hard as you are.

And this catches your attention, causing you to stop kissing him and watch him at the eye that is fully dilated and full of lust and arousal, which you also know your eyes must be like this.

And as much as you want to calm that slight delicious ache of arousal in your nerve center since it's been too long since he was last inside you, at that moment you remember where you are and look around, barely being able to see anything through the rain-fogged glass, but still causing you hesitation.

"But..." you say with your voice and look not entirely convinced, again trying to see something through the glass, "H-here?"

"It's been so long," he tells you, again leaving wet kisses on your neck that make you shiver all over, trying to convince you.

"I know b-but… "you say still undecided, "I don't know—

"Please, baby," he looks into your eyes, "Feel what you're doing to me."

It forces you to again move your hips against it deeply, fully feeling its heavy hardness in need of attention and release, the friction sending delicious waves of arousal that also need attention.

"I want you. Right here. Right now. Don't tell me you don't want me too, I know you do."

You almost let out a little cry of surprise when unexpectedly, he sniffs under your skirt and just above your panties, you feel the huge palm of his hand cover your pussy with ease, caressing you in your entirety.

"A-ah!"

A soft whimper escapes you and you furrow your brows with the clear excitement and pleasure in your gaze, beginning to breathe harder, agitated and shaky.

"You're all soaked, baby."

He says in the midst of his excitation, delighted by the way you're dripping all over him, stroking you with his huge hand all over from front to back, making you moan loudly and start to move your hips against his hand, needing more, the friction being absolutely delicious.

And just as one of his long, slender fingers is about to pull the fabric of your panties aside to touch you directly, with a feeling of regret for the pleasure but also desperate, you stop his hand abruptly, not letting him go any further.

Aemond furrows his eyebrows in confusion amidst all his excitement, staring at you blankly, as you return your nervous, worried, agitated gaze, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

"I-I wasn't expecting this," you begin to say, even with your hand completely stopping his movements, nervously, "And it's been a while since I've shaved."

Aemond's confusion only becomes more noticeable even after hearing your words, understanding but at the same time not, as you watch him completely worried and on alert, not having the slightest idea what will happen next.

But Aemond knows what exactly will happen next, still not understanding why you said that and why you look so worried about it when he understands that you already know.

So he shakes his head briefly in your direction, still confused.

"And you think I care about that?"

His words take you completely by surprise and before you can say or do anything, his finger finally pulls the fabric aside and with his index and middle finger directly touches your dripping wet center, stroking you in slight circles making you moan and arch your back with your face contracting in complete pleasure.

Aemond can't help but smile in satisfaction at the way you react and respond, feeling you moisten his fingers more, loving your every expression and how you are like this to him.

And finally he expertly slips his fingers between your folds as if he wants to check how wet you are.

"Aemond," you moan his name, wiggling your hips against his hand again.

"Yes, baby," he praiseswith even satisfaction and desire in his gaze, "God, you are so fucking hot."

"Please," you whine, watching him with need and pleasure, "Please fuck me, fuck me with your fingers."

"Yeah? You want that?"

He watches you with tease, feeling his fingers slide all over your entrance, making you moan and sigh for him, feeling so good but not enough, as you need more.

"Aemond," you say his name in a plea.

And that smirk appears on his lips, deciding he doesn't want to tease you since he's just as desperate as you are, but this little moment is about you.

"Here you go, baby, all for you. I'm gonna take good care of my girl."

You moan prologue as he slips both fingers into your tight, hot, needy entrance, moving them inside you in a way that steals the breath from your lungs.

You arch your back as you moan and your chest is right in front of him, his eye going at that moment to your confined breasts, needing to be released and also needing to receive attention.

He doesn't need to say anything to you, as you are too busy receiving and enjoying the feel of his fingers inside you, so with his free hand he moves it up the back of your top, reaches in and with a calculated and expert movement, undoes the clip of your bra.

This doesn't totally get your attention, what does is how Aemond moves your bra out of the way and down the front of your top, exposes your breasts for him by the side of your cleavage.

"Gods," he murmurs to himself in delight to then bring his hand up, kneading your left breast all over and bringing his lips to your nipple on your right breast.

Now the feel of his lips and one of his hands on your breasts makes you moan louder as you continue to feel him move his fingers inside you just the way you need and exactly how you like.

Just as he knows exactly how you like it when he licks and kisses your nipples with need, grunting in the middle of his licks, watching your face at all times, not wanting to miss every expression on your face.

"Yes, just like that, p-please," you whimper, arching your back more and bringing one of your hands to his hair to push his face more against your breasts.

But you lose it completely when he twists and arches his fingers inside you with purpose, stroking and searching until he finds the spot that draws a gasp from you.

"There we go," he murmurs, watching you, "Fuck, you're so warm, baby, "he groans, "You're going to feel so fucking good around my cock."

His words send more delicious waves of pleasure to your center that he continues to caress and soothe, as he watches his fingers disappear inside you again and again, continuously, to return his attention to your breasts.

Each caress of his fingers, hand and lips make you melt completely on top of him, still panting and feeling dizzy and lightheaded, having no coherent thought because of the sensations.

And yet, it's not enough, you need more, need more of him, desperately.

"So fucking good," you murmur in sighs, your breath coming in ragged gasps, "Please, baby, don't stop."

Aemond groans

"I can feel you squeezing my fingers, baby," he says, stroking your soft spot, "Are you going to cum?"

"Y-yes," you say in a faint murmur, contracting your face into one of pleasure and need, moving your hips faster against his hand, "Oh fuuuck."

"You are so beautiful," he murmurs, beginning again to leave wet kisses down your face and neck, "I can't believe you're mine… and how perfect you are," he says over the softness of your breasts, husky, "Fuck."

"Aem-mond," you say in a desperate tone, still swaying your hips and about to reach your high point.

He feels you clench tighter all around your fingers and before you can finally feel your orgasm hit you, he stops his movements and removes his fingers from inside you.

You whimper with confusion and discomfort more than evident on your face, watching him instantly, breathing hard and fast, with the slight sweat on your forehead, about to reproach, but Aemond speaks quickly.

"On my cock," he clarifies to you, taking his hands off you for a moment, bringing them to his belt to remove it and also unbuckle his pants, "I want you to cum all over my cock."

As he begins to remove his belt with a little difficulty, he is totally focused on that, but as he unbuckles his pants and is about to release his hardened member, he turns his eye to your face and sees even the discomfort and frustration on your face from the denied orgasm.

"Oh baby, don't look at me like that," he tells you with the smirk in his gaze, leaning down to leave a soft kiss on your cheek, "Don't worry, I'll give you exactly what you want. Be a good girl for me and be patient."

This inevitably brings waves of pleasure to your aroused yet aching center for not cumming, so you squeeze your thighs together in a vain attempt to find relief.

And finally Aemond releases his big, hard, hot cock from his underwear, watching you all the while with pleasure and completely ravenous.

His long, slender fingers wrap around the base, then stroke himself with deep, long strokes, grunting lowly each time his thumb brushes over his sensitive, red tip.

At the scene of him stroking himself with your lust-filled eyes, you can't help but moisten your lips with the tip of your tongue, needing him inside your mouth or inside you, either is fine with you.

"Spread your legs for me, baby," he says, bringing one of his hands to your thigh, "Let me see that pretty pussy."

Even though it's been a while, you still shamelessly try to spread your legs as wide as you can, letting him see your wet pussy dripping with your juices, glistening slightly and fully engorged, needing him.

"Fuck," he growls, "All this for me?"

He brings his hand to your center again and with his thumb strokes gently but with just enough pressure your sensitive bud, making you moan and arch your back from feeling it more intensely.

Aemond bites his lower lip as he watches your pussy contract from his caresses, then he moves his eye up to your face and at the end he focuses totally on your slightly sweaty body, your perfect breasts with both hard nipples making his cock throb in a painful but delicious way at the same time.

"I want to ride you," you say in the middle of your expression of pleasure, panting.

Aemond smiles and pulls his hand away from your needy pussy before he goes any further and places them both on either side of your body, watching you expectantly.

"Go ahead, baby. I'm all yours."

This only heightens your arousal more and the idea of riding him rough is too delicious and makes you feel yourself getting wetter.

You wrap his heavy cock in your hand, breathing through your mouth, then rise up on his lap and direct his tip to your needy, dripping pussy.

You slowly lower down and feel him open you all the way, making you moan his name too loudly.

"Oh my god, Ae-mond" you whined, closing your eyes in complete delight.

"Oh fuck," Aemond groans, "Fuck, baby."

You both curse as it feels so fucking good.

You slowly descend, moaning throughout, feeling yourself open wider for him, causing Aemond to groan and curse louder as he feels you squeeze him in such an exaggeratedly good way that it almost makes him cum.

Even with more of his long, thick cock left to enter your pussy, he grabs your hips with both burning hands and pushes you down to finish sinking all of him inside you, where you both moan and grunt deliciously.

"That's so fucking good," you praise, completely drunk with pleasure and how he fills you completely.

Only he fills you this way, being exactly what you need. And you've missed it.

He gives you time for your body to adjust to his size after so long, while this time with both hands he caresses your breasts, giving attention with his tongue to your hard buds, making you moan as it feels too much, though not enough.

"You like it that much, hm?"

He teases you and then runs his tongue right across your right bud, lightly grazing it with his teeth, making you gasp as his hands continue to caress the softness of your breasts with sharp movements that take in all your skin.

And once you feel comfortable again with his size inside you, you begin to move your hips against him.

"Oh yeah, baby," he grunts, "Just like that."

You continue to move back and forth, moaning his name, feeling his warm breath against your breasts, beginning to feel your skin bristle from all the sensation that is too much but not enough at the same time.

"Yes, baby," you say in a whimper, "Please, you feel so good."

You begin to move more purposefully up and down now, causing him to growl again and let out a curse in your ear, holding you tighter around your waist by how you bounce against him.

The rain out there probably helps make your moans not so audible, but you no longer care where you are and if anyone might notice you both, especially since the car is moving with your movements on top of him, but you don't care.

You can only focus on one thing and that is Aemond, your perfect boyfriend.

You only feel more waves of pleasure that his cock soothes as you see his beautiful smooth but slightly contracted face in intense pleasure, with a few strands of his now short hair sticking to his forehead from his light sweat, looking so sexy.

Each drag of his cock head sends electricity throughout your body and a feeling of euphoria, almost making you see stars and fireworks, moving more fervently against him.

His breathing is just as fast as yours, hearing on top of that the slapping of your ass against his thighs every time you thrust him deep inside you again.

"That's it," he hums, then tightens the grip of his hands on your hips and begins to move faster and harder on top of him.

You moan loudly, feeling too much, delicious and driving you completely crazy.

"Fuck," you whined at the way he guides you, closing your eyes in complete delight.

And the next thing he does as he feels your walls contract around him, he wraps his arms around you and holds you with his warm hands from your lower back, grunts and begins to meet your movements as he too thrusts his hips upward in hard, fast, hard thrusts.

The air is completely gone from your lungs once more and you moan louder, the sound of both your skins sticking together also being heard, making your eyes roll back.

"Yes, yes, baby," you say as best you can, drunk with pleasure, frowning as you feel yourself cumming soon.

"Holy fuck, baby," he croons, "Keep goin', baby. Squeeze my cock. I wanna feel you cum first," he groans, his voice almost desperate.

He continues to whisper obscene things in your ear, that you are his, how much he loves you, how beautiful you look all desperate with his cock inside you, what he wants to do to you next, how long he has waited to be inside you again and how much he loves to hear your beautiful sounds that are only for him.

You can't help but react to his dirty words and your pussy squeezes him harder, making him grunt and curse with his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, his cheeks pink from the heat and his lips half-open, breathing hard.

"Fuck-fuck," you say quickly, clinging tighter to him in a desperate way.

"You're going to cum, aren't you?" he purrs and you let out a moan, trying to speak, "Yes, baby. Cum for me, please."

He leans in and kisses you with need, as he continues to grind his hips against yours and you moan into his mouth as he brings his thumb back to your bud and strokes it with just enough pressure to make you moan and feel more of your pleasure on the verge of exploding.

And with three more sweeps of his thumb on your clit, you get goose bumps and collapse on top of him.

You moan his name and every muscle in your body tenses at once, you tingle and your mind goes blank as you let out a high pitched moan louder than the previous ones and you see stars behind your eyes as a wave passes all over your insides.

You feel the euphoria all over your head and you jerk for a moment, almost aching from it all, feeling too much as Aemond continues to fuck you through your orgasm, reaching his own peak.

"Oh, fuck," you hear him moan and with one last hard, hard lunge, a hot liquid spurt of his cum fills you inside you.

The pleasure burns all over you, it courses through your body and you gasp, breathing hard and barely processing everything that has just happened.

Together you wait for the high to subside as you drop your head heavily against his shoulder and he continues to hold you, waiting for his racing heartbeat to calm down.

He begins to leave soft kisses on your forehead and brushes away your damp locks stuck to your sweaty face gently, smiling completely happy and satisfied, while you continue to melt under his touch and watch for a moment as the rain continues out there.

"Are you okay, baby?"

He asks you while still trying to catch his breath and you hums in affirmation, slowly sitting back up to look him in the eye.

"More than okay," you assure him with that satisfaction in your body.

You smile at him with love in your gaze and lean in to kiss him, where once again you think of how much you missed him and how happy it makes you to be with him again in this way, being all you needed.

"Stay with me in my room," you tell him as you pull away from him, not taking your hands away from his face.

"I wasn't planning on not staying, love."

He smiles back at you and he leaves one more kiss on your lips again, pulling your whole naked body against him again, holding you tight, as if he doesn't want to let you go.

His cock softens inside you and you carefully pull away from on top of him, feeling like there's a mess on your crotch and thighs, but nothing you can't fix since your room is a few feet away.

Once you both finish cleaning up what you can inside his car, where barely Aemond cares about it, you and he run under the rain to hurry into your building, where you take him to your room.

Tonight is not the last time Aemond makes you come, as once you are both in the four walls of your room, he makes you come with his fingers, tongue and cock, proclaiming it is to make up for the time you were both apart.

The next morning, in your bed, you can't help the silly smile that appears on your lips when you see the serene and calm face of Aemond, who is sleeping peacefully next to you.

You immediately place your head on his chest and hug him, wanting to feel that closeness and touch from him, completely happy but also tired from everything you both did last night.

You feel that satisfied tingle between your legs and now being like this with him, just time seems to stand still for you, wanting to be like this forever.

Aemond stirs a little under you and you feel and hear him inhale deeply, then feel his warm hands wrap around your bare back, pulling your body closer to him, making you smile softly.

"Hmm," he says hoarsely, sending a vibration you feel in his chest, "Good morning," he says still sleepily.

You laugh softly under your breath, lifting your face to watch him.

"It's the afternoon, actually," you tell him amused then leave a soft kiss on his lips.

He hums, still keeping his eye closed, while instead of seeing his blue sapphire in his left empty socket, he has on his prosthetic eye, which you hadn't seen in some time, but still had missed.

"Really?" he asks you still sleepily.

"It's twelve o'clock," you let him know, then look at him somewhat warily, "Don't you have to work or something?"

"Hmm…" he says for a moment, hugging you against his chest more firmly, "Yeah but it doesn't matter, I want to take the day off."

You can't help the small tight-mouthed smile that appears on your lips and you pull your face closer to his, closing your eyes and melting under his touch and the comfort of your bed, while out there the weather is cloudy from the storm at night.

"You know my work now won't interfere between us, right?" he suddenly asks you softly, getting your attention, "I'm not going to make the same mistakes as last time. I'm going to do this right."

Again you can't help but smile a little, as you remain silent for a moment and gently nuzzle your nose with his.

"Now I know," you murmur softly to him, in response.

Aemond smiles softly, marking his dimples on either side of his cheeks, as the two of you make no effort to get out of bed and entwine your legs together, intending to stay here for a while longer.

And in that moment, it's just you and him, both in the right place at the right time.

That day in your room, you both talked about everything, about what would come next and how you would face it together, how you would do things now and also caught up for the months apart.

There were all kinds of laughs and heartfelt conversations. Instead of focusing on the mistakes of the past, you chose to look forward and build that new future together.

A few weeks after you and Aemond got back together, the topic of you both living together comes up again, but this time, he gives you the news that he stopped living in the apartment where you both lived together and recently bought an apartment for himself in the upper suburbs.

And it's only a matter of time before you both now create new moments in a new place.

Even the press gives the news after they see you both in a luxurious restaurant enjoying a rich dinner, where there is no lack of physical contact and some innocent kisses, where you both look absolutely happy.

Aemond's family, Hel more than anything else, are happy that the two of you are back together, where you never crossed paths with Otto Hightower.

And it is also only a matter of time before all the other close people around know that you and Aemond are back together again.

But Aemond couldn't care less, since he has you back, his sweet girl and that's all he cares about.

His company continued to be successful, even increased with now him being the boss and your classes and work remained the same, only with the difference that you now have that stability you had so longed for back.

And fortunately it came back into your life, as well as Aemond's new life, having you back.

You both supported each other in your goals and dreams, finding strength and inspiration in this new chapter of your lives.

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———

She brushes another kiss to his hidden face and settles against the car door, holding him. She thinks for a moment and decides on something old, a tune she heard on the radio once upon a time and never heard again; she’s warped it, now, no doubt about it, humming it from memory so long it’s changed to whatever she has made it. But Will recognises it from years of lullabies, picking up on the swooping baritones and mumbling the words into her shoulder.

“You know, that Han Solo shrine up in your room makes a lot more sense, now that I think about it.”

The melody dies in his throat.

“Mama.”

“I’m just saying.” She bites back a smirk, swatting away his smacking hands. “There was a point in time I thought it was admiration, you know, but you have a lot of posters of that open vest —”

“Mama!”

She acquiesces, this time, never having seen his poor face so scarlet, trying and failing to keep her laughter to herself. The tear tracks have long since dried and his breathing is steady, now, gangly limbs tucked into her ribs and hanging off the bend of her thigh. Flopped all over her like he used to to when he was young and she was still touring, when the world was too loud and too bright and too mean and she hid him from the sun. Her hands in his hair are to touch instead of soothe.

“Who’s the boy?”

“No.”

“C’mon, babydoll.” She pokes at his ribs, grinning widely when he rolls his eyes to hide his smile. “Tell me.”

“It’s nobody, Ma, gods.”

“Yeah, right. Not like you were comparing having a crush to killing someone in cold blood twenty minutes ago. Clearly it’s somebody.”

He, very pointedly, doesn’t answer.

Unfortunately, he forgets that he gets his stubborn from her.

“Hm. Can’t be anyone I haven’t heard of in a few weeks, or else it wouldn’t be bothering you. What names have you mentioned?”

He looks at her in horror. “You wouldn’t.”

Absolutely, she would. Her smile widens.

“I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess it ain’t Chiron, ‘cause then I’d have questions —”

“Oh my gods! Stop!”

“— an’ I doubt it’s that security fellow, with the eyes, although if it is no judgement —”

“I’m throwing myself out of this car! Right now! I’m gonna lay on the road ‘til someone hits me!”

“— Lord, you don’t mention many names. You’re a recluse, baby. You gotta make more than two friends.”

She stills. Will, perhaps guessing where she is going, makes a noise of deep, personal agony.

“Oh my stars, is it Cecil?”

“Ew, Ma!”

He strains against her hold but she tightens, hooking her elbow around his shoulders and flexing her other hand, pretending to examine her nails.

“It is, isn’t it? I mean, he is a very handsome young man. And he has a good heart, too, despite the — how to put it — distaste for the law —”

“I just threw up in my mouth! Right now! Stop it!”

“I should probably stop letting him stay in your room when he stays over, huh, that one’s on me —”

He wrenches himself away from her, finally, clambering over the seats and gagging like the mere idea makes him nauseous.

“Ew! Ew! I do not have a thing for Cecil, oh my gods, I might as well marry my cousin! Augh! I’m gonna throw up for real! Why would you even say that, oh my —”

“Alright, alright!” she laughs, kicking his rapidly repeating shoulder. “Holy Jesus, you are dramatic. I should call up camp and tell him you’re out here retchin’ at the mere thought.”

“Good,” Will says darkly, voice muffled from how deeply his head is buried in his hands, “make sure to also tell him he is a weasel.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And that I am going to deface his vintage Hot Wheels collection.”

“Y’all have a strange friendship.”

“He’s not my friend, I am stuck with him via circumstance and because he refuses to leave me alone.”

She holds up her hands in surrender, refraining from pointing out the friendship bracelet he is currently wearing with a CM on it and that has not left his wrist in four years.

“Alright, alright. Not Cecil.”

He scoffs in agreement, ignoring her rolled eyes.

She wracks her brain for other boys he’s brought up in their phone calls, aside from people in passing. Mostly he mentions patients, really, answering her endless inquiries — it will never stop astounding her that he baby can practically sew heads back on bodies; she tells people he’s in med school and preens at their wide, impressed eyes — but there are other people he mentions, in between that and the pranks he’s frequently pulling with his friends.

“There was that boy you were so excited to keep around. Nick?”

“His name is Nico,” he corrects, and then immediately goes scarlet. “I — I mean, I have a friend, named Nico, not that —”

Her grin gets sharp as nails.

“He is — unwell! He’s travelled a lot, he needs monitoring so I am — monitoring him, you know, out of concern for his safety —”

“Nico and Wi-ill, sitting in a tree —”

“Oh my gods are you five —”

“You are steaming! I can actually feel the heat pouring off of you right now! You love him, you want to kiss him, you —”

“I am never telling you anything again in my entire life!” he hollers. “Never! Next time I think I should tell you something I’m just gonna — swallow glass!”

She snickers. “Drama queen.”

He sticks out his tongue as she situates herself back in her own seat, turning the keys in the engine. His puts his dirty converse on the dash despite her grouching, reaching over to fight her for control of the radio, flapping his hand excitedly when she lets him win and something bright and overdone starts playing. His bandage stays where it is, tied loosely around his wrist.

“I’m glad you told me, you know.”

He smiles, small and genuine, leaning into the palm she cups around his cheek. The dimple in the centre of his right cheek is back, the scrunch of his freckled nose. She presses a lingering kiss smack dab in the centre of his forehead and he leans into it, trusting.

“I know.”

[ghcstao3]

more mi6 ghost and sas soap i beg!!! it itches something in my brain so hard!!!! i love ur writing sm ur sosososo talented <333

(original post since it’s been so long i am so so sorry. also apologies if it's paced weirdly i never had much of an idea where to take the original prompt. thank you though, for supporting my writing :) <3)

-

Soap would never be so naive as to expect a warm welcome from a team of elite agents, but the cold shoulder he's thus far received from one of said agents hardly seems necessary in its place.

He's barely even said a word.

The haughty bastard keeps staring at Soap, too, like Soap can't tell there are eyes on him behind sunglasses, and a frown behind a medical mask. He refused to shake Soap's hand, hadn't even been introduced by name like the others—Ghost, is all that was offered—and now he was scrutinizing Soap in some indecipherable way that Soap would put up to a cause of him being military, if it weren't for the fact that no one else of similar status was getting the same treatment.

It's bizarre. It couldn't even be the mohawk, for once, because he'd actually grown that out in anticipation of this high-honour, high-stakes mission.

Of course, the treatment doesn't ebb as days, weeks stretch on. But Soap learns to live with it, throws himself into the mission like he has something to prove, acquaints himself with everyone else.

Ghost becomes a background nuisance. He and his perfectly tailored suits hardly hold any weight to Soap by the time they're forced together and everything becomes a whole lot clearer.

Two months into the operation is when the team finally encounters the kind of action Soap is used to; bouts of gunfire, ducking for cover, barking out commands, incapacitating enemies with force before stealth. Begrudgingly, Soap and Ghost are left to cover one another's sixes.

Admittedly, Ghost is a damn good shot and has a rather keen eye for enemies. Soap would never utter this statement aloud, but they work terribly well as a team.

When everything goes silent for several minutes and they've received confirmation that the area's been cleared, that they're free to proceed with the mission, Ghost and Soap cautiously move from where they'd been taking cover.

Then Ghost is shot in the chest.

Another few gunshots ring out following, as Soap drags the agent back into their hiding place. Thankfully his bulletproof vest had taken the brunt of the blow, but it's obvious the wind had been knocked out of Ghost, evidenced by the sharp, wheezing gasps that try to pull air into his lungs.

Soap offers nothing more than a clipped sorry before ripping off the mask that's clearly hindering Ghost's ability to draw a proper breath.

His heart drops. Soap knows that face.

For good measure, he removes Ghost's sunglasses as well, and—fuck. Yes, Soap knows that face. Intimately.

"Simon? You bastard, what the hell?"

Simon winces. He's still breathless when he replies, "Johnny, don't—later. Fuck."

Later. Soap huffs. He only agrees because there are more pressing things, of course, but also because he's not happy to imagine the nasty bruise that was surely going to blossom across his partner's chest in the coming days.

They're not as useful the second time around, but they get what they need done. Soap operates purely on confusion and a mild frustration until later finally arrives, because he'd just like to know... anything, really.

Unfortunately, later doesn't even come when the mission is completed. Later doesn't even come until about a month following Soap's discovery. Suspense nearly kills him.

They're both home again. The operation had been of enough importance that it had, thankfully, warranted everyone at least a short break. Simon is only home because of the bruise that has yet to fade.

Things are tense, initially. Words are terse yet not unkind; they give each other space yet they go to sleep in the same bed each night. Their mutual stubbornness keeps them both from acknowledging the elephant in the room.

Until Soap grows too impatient, nearing the end of his own leave.

Over an otherwise silent dinner, Soap finally asks, "Will I ever get to know what was going on during that mission, then? Why you were being such a prick?"

Simon pauses, setting his fork down with a sigh. His shoulders slump as he sits back in his chair and drags a tired hand over his face, and Soap almost scoffs. Like the issue hasn't been bothering Soap as well.

"I didn't want you to worry about me over the course of everything. In case something happened," Simon confesses.

Soap snorts. "What, like you wouldn't be worried about me? Like you aren't worried about me, already knowing what I do for work?"

"No, Johnny, that's not what—" Simon sighs again. Soap catches the way he almost moves his hand to rub his chest in habit, before rethinking the choice in remembering the bruise. "Of course I worry about you. I just... didn't want to create any unnecessary risks. I trust you, more than anyone, but I've also been in this line of work for a while. I know my own limits."

Soap hangs his head. He... understands. He does. His own career requires the same kinds of limitations, but he's still upset that Simon felt he couldn't manage.

"I'm sorry," Simon eventually murmurs. He reaches a hand across the table and covers Soap's balled fist with a warm, callused hand. "I was wrong. You're a good soldier. Should've known that seein' you were chosen for the task force."

A blush burns at the tips of Soap's ears, and gradually he unclenches his hand. "I forgive you," he says. Soap doesn't think he could fault Simon forever, anyway. "But you'd better make it up to me."

"Of course." A smile tugs at Simon's lips, something almost mischievous. "Anything you like."

(This, of course, meant that Soap would be taking great pleasure in beating Simon's records at the gun range. And perhaps a few other things as well.)

[avernusreject]

Warning ya'll this is gonna be a long post. But please join my descent into insanity, as I deep dive into the vague wormhole that is the durge betrayal pre bg3 timeline.

Before we start, it’ll help if you have context around the faerun calendar. There are twelve months in total, each having exactly 30 days. Additionally, weeks don’t exist in faerun. Rather months get broken down into chunks of time called tendays, which you guessed is literally just ten days. If that was too straight forward for you, don’t worry, they add in five extra days to the calendar that fall outside of the months (ngl I still have no idea where these are located) to make the full year 365 days. 

At the beginning of the game, the nautiloid crash occurs at 20 Eleasis. Which means, the game starts in the middle of summer. Obviously, the way you play the game is going to influence the speed of events, but for my playthrough I reached moonrise towers around 12 elient (total time being 22 days). When you get to moonrise, in Bathazar’s chamber you can find his journal that explains that Kressa (the crazy necromancer chick) managed to keep durge alive. This entry is dated “two tenday ago”. But in game, that makes no sense because we know that the nautiloid should have crashed around that point. So either Balthazar doesn’t understand how the Faerun calendar works (I mean same, my guy) or we have to change our frame of reference. I think its more likely that the implied frame of reference is the start of the game, 20 Eleasis (since the developers can’t control how fast the player goes). 

If true, durge was saved by Kressa around 1 Eleasis. Her vivisections took place after this in the following days. However, durge is taken away before the end of the following tendays (at least before 10 Eleasis).

Now when you talk to Kressa in the basement of moonrise, she states that she found durge only hours after they had been given the tadpole.

In the fight with Orin, she states that when she attacked durge she carved out a hole for the worm (ignore the Half-Elf part, that's just from the moment Orin turns into durge during the pre-fight convo).

The part that we're missing is when specifically the tadpole was inserted into durge. But given how the game describes just how utterly fucked durge was, there's a high likelyhood that the tadpole was given to durge moments after their fight. Which if true, places Orin's betrayal at 1 Eleasis. Giving us twenty days till the start of the game.

The piece that threw me for a bit was this piece of the narrator's dialogue when durge examines the pod, stating that durge had no idea how much time had passed.

But the blood in the pod is still fresh enough that Astarion is able to ID it as durge & in another dialogue choice if you examine the blood further the narrator states the blood hasn't been there long enough to rot.

I think this dialogue is more explaining that durge is actively being tortured by Kressa so time feels unending (kressa being the one who put them in the pod to begin with).

I've seen in other posts that Gortash's draft memoir explains that Orin's betrayal occurred during or just around the crowning of the brain (I don't have a screenshot of that unfortunately). But we have to take that with a grain of salt because Gortash is the definition of an unreliable narrator.

Personally, I don't think he's lying though. Orin's betrayal occurred in moonrise and there's really no other reason that Orin and durge would be in moonrise that the game has provided. Not to mention, the warden explains the last time that durge was in moonrise, they never left.

I don't think durge came to moonrise more then once given the fact that the warden, who had clearly been there a while, had no clue who they were. I find it hard to believe their identity would be kept under wraps had they been at moonrise multiple times. Employees have to gossip about something.

I think its likely that Ketheric, Gortash, and Durge tamed the brain in the days leading up to 1 Eleasis (like ~20 to 30 Flamerule).

In summary, the dead three had a Phineas and Ferb summer vacation by deciding to create the cult of the absolute.

And yes if you are wondering this is how I look now.

[bella-rose29]

Deck the Halls (and not your partner) - part 4

Christmas Eve, and the day of the party.

once again I maintain the idea that lockwood has his tea as a Cameron special (for absolutely no reason, they've just merged into one being in my mind)

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: swearing, family members being mean, lockwood never put his pyjamas back on, I should mention now that they're 18 for plot and ethical reasons, mentions of body image issues, innuendos?

series master list

(image credit to @sxnflowersa_tv on pinterest)

When Y/n woke up the next morning, her first thought was that she was cold.

Her second was that she was in a double bed and not her usual tiny single in Portland Row, and the third was panic at seeing her boss shirtless.

Lockwood's blanket had slipped at some point in the night, and so when she sat up and stretched she was met with the sight of him sleeping soundly in the armchair, his pyjamas folded neatly on the small table next to him. How he wasn't freezing to death she wasn't sure, but then Lockwood had never made sense to her. One minute he was all smiles and charm and then the next he was saying something completely opposite into her ear, and she was left to figure out which version was the real Lockwood.

Today would be difficult, and they had to come to some sort of understanding if they were going to survive the hell that they would soon be entering.

Lockwood didn't look comfortable at all, with his neck at an odd angle and his legs curled up underneath him (he was bound to get pins and needles when he woke up), and Y/n felt the smallest pang of pity before a knock sounded on the bedroom door.

"Are you two awake?" Her mother questioned, likely wanting to know if they wanted tea. Y/n clambered out of bed and leaned against the door.

"Uh, I am," she whispered. "Lock- Anthony's still asleep."

"Right, well do you think he'll want a cup of tea? I'm heading down to make a pot now."

"Oh, yeah. He has it weird though, with sugar and honey."

"I'll pop those on the tray, then, and he can put in what he wants."

"Thanks Mum." She heard her mother shuffle and head down the stairs, knees clicking as she went, and turned back to look at her fake boyfriend. "Fuck," she said, a horrible realisation dawning on her. Lockwood couldn't be in the armchair when her mother brought in the tea, or she'd wonder if they'd had an argument. Walking over, she gave his arm a quick prod.

No response.

She tried again, harder this time, and when he stirred a little she cheered internally. "Lockwood?" she whisper-shouted, giving him a proper shove.

"What? What is it?" He was bolt upright almost immediately, scanning for any signs of danger and reaching for Y/n. "Is everything alright?"

"Uh... yes," she said slowly. "Mum's making tea, and when she brings it in you can't be in the chair or she'll have questions." She stared down at his hand where it was grabbing her pyjama top (an old oversized t-shirt), his knuckles white. "You... you can let go of me now, Lockwood."

"Oh. Right." He retracted his hand, but not before letting it hover in the space between them for a few seconds. He stood up, the blanket falling, and Y/n immediately turned around.

"Why are you naked?!"

"I am not! I got hot in the night so I took my pyjamas off! I still have my pants on, thank you very much!"

"Well put your pyjamas back on!" she shrieked, pressing her hands over her face (despite still having her back to him) and desperately hoping she could delete the image from her brain. She had thought he'd only taken his top off, but since he wore matching pyjamas the pile of clothes on the table had looked like one thing, not two. She could hear him hopping around while he attempted to quickly pull his trousers on, and after a minute or so he cleared his throat.

"Alright, I'm dressed." Y/n turned around slowly, scared that he was joking, and sighed in relief when she realised that he wasn't. "Such a drama queen," he muttered under his breath, clearly not wanting her to hear as he looked to his left with a red face.

"I am not a drama queen, Lockwood. If anybody is the drama queen it's you. Now get in the bed." She pointed at it, glare on her face.

"If you wanted me to sleep with you you could have let me do that last night," he smirked, and she threw a decorative pillow at him.

"Just get in the bed, Lockwood." She went to grab a second pillow when he wriggled his eyebrows at her, and he quickly stopped and pulled back the covers. When he was finally settled she climbed in next to him.

"Y/n."

"What?"

"You should probably come a bit closer." He wasn't wrong, since they were as far away from each other as they could get, but she stubbornly refused to cosy up to him when she didn't need to just yet.

"Hang on." She'd spotted the blanket still crumpled on the floor, and hurried to pick it up just as she heard her mother coming up the stairs. Chucking it over the armchair she rushed back to the bed, pulling the duvet over her just as the door opened.

"Fuck's sake, come here," Lockwood whispered, harshly tugging on her arm and then wrapping his arm around her waist. "Ah, good morning, Emma!"

"Morning! Just got some tea for you here," she put the tray down on Y/n's bedside table and paused for a moment as she took in the two of them in the bed. "How did you sleep? Hopefully you feel rested enough for today?"

"Oh I slept beautifully, thank you." Lockwood beamed up at Emma, and Y/n wondered if she knew that his fingers were stroking the skin of her stomach under her top where it had ridden up.

"I'm glad to hear it! Well, I'll leave you to it!" They both smiled until Y/n's mother was out of the room, but as soon as the door clicked shut behind her they shot away from each other.

"I hope we never have to do that again."

"We'll have to do it tomorrow morning, darling."

"Nobody else is here, you don't need to keep calling me that."

"Ah, yes. Sorry, Schmoopie."

"I hate you. I'm going to poison your tea." She was getting the mugs ready now, adding extra honey to one and pouring in the water over the tea bags.

"And I will happily drink it."

A few minutes later (she'd had to let the tea stew for a bit) she poured in the milk and handed over his mug.

"Did you add in the sugar?"

"Yep."

"And the honey?"

"You watched me do it, Lockwood."

"Right, yes. I did." He was quiet for a moment, staring into the contents of his mug. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she replied, mild shock running through her at the sincerity of his gratitude.

They drank their tea in silence.

~~~

"So, just to recap, there are around fifty people coming over today?"

"Yep," Y/n said through a mouthful of cereal. "All extended family members and close family friends and their families. I've been thinking about it, and as much as it pains me to say it I think... ugh," she scowled into her bowl. "I think you're right abo-"

"Ha! Finally! I got you to say it! About what?"

"If you'd let me finish, you would know, idiot."

"Oh, yes. Sorry."

"I think you're right about needing to do a big speech to everyone all in one go about..." she gestured between the two of them vaguely, "us."

"Ah. Yes, it would save a lot of time, wouldn't it?"

"Hm, it would. And then we only have to remember things once really."

"Remind me again what the story was?" They were sat in the kitchen, the only ones up other than Y/n's mother (who was upstairs getting things ready).

"What was 8 months ago?"

"Why 8 months?" Lockwood frowned over his second mug of tea that morning.

"Because that's what I told Steph last night."

"Oh. Uh, April I think? There was that one job we went on in March, just the two of us. We could stick pretty close to the truth then if we used that as a death scare that made you realise that you couldn't possibly live without me."

"Wasn't the story that you realised you were hopelessly in love with me one day and asked me out, but I refused multiple times until eventually I gave in to get you to shut up?"

"Well, yes. But I just think that- morning, Stephanie." His smile was clearly forced, and Y/n realised with a start that she was beginning to be able to tell which of his smiles were real.

"Morning you two. Hopefully you didn't get too frisky last night after that adorable kiss under the mistletoe!"

"No, we-"

"Well, a gentleman doesn't kiss and tell, Stephanie," Lockwood smirked, and Y/n rolled her eyes at his interruption. Her cousin was lapping it up, and after a few minutes the kitchen was filled with various members of Y/n's family as they all filed in, bleary eyed and reaching for tea and coffee. They would have to figure out their story while they got ready for the party, since they definitely couldn't get details straight with so many people in the room.

"Morning, Squeak," her brother Will murmured as he sat on a stool next to her at the counter. Y/n scoffed at the nickname, but there was nothing resentful behind it. "Sleep alright?"

"Yeah, did you?" He nodded in response as he started shovelling mouthfuls of cereal in, the bowl nearly spilling over with the amount of food in it.

"Lover boy didn't give you too much grief last night, did he?"

"No, he was alright."

"Hey, if you need a break at any point today come and find me, yeah? I'll fend off any inquisitive relatives."

"Thanks, Will." He was only a couple of years older than her, being the third youngest of her brothers, but Will liked to act as though he was the oldest of all of the L/n siblings. In fairness Tom was eleven and Sam and John who were thirty and twenty-eight respectively were rarely home or in contact with her, and she didn't have as much of a bond with them. Olivia was a year younger than Y/n, but since they had shared a room growing up they had fought consistently over the years about completely irrelevant things and barely talked outside of gatherings.

"Anytime. I think me and the boys were gonna take your lover boy away at some point to give him the proper talk, so if you can't find any of us later that'll be why."

"Please stop calling him 'lover boy', Will," she grimaced, not noticing Lockwood come up behind her.

"But I am your lover boy, darling." She whipped her head around to see Lockwood leaning against the counter next to her with a soft smile.

Weird. She'd thought he would be smirking instead.

Will snorted, then tipped his bowl up to drink the last of the milk. "You two," he said after he'd finished, "are quite possibly the most sickening thing I have ever seen."

~~~

"Is a suit too much, do you think?"

"Maybe leave the tie," Y/n called out from the bathroom where she was getting changed. She had long since pulled on the burgundy dress, but not knowing when Lockwood would be in a state where she could walk out meant that she had spent the last five minutes staring at her reflection in the mirror. She was absolutely certain that multiple people would make comments about her figure, or compare her to Stephanie, or both, and she was dreading leaving the bathroom. Then there would be the comments about her job, and how being an agent was a terrible choice and she should have gone into full-time education instead.

"Y/n? You can come out when you're ready."

She sighed shakily, taking one last look at herself in the mirror above the sink before unlocking the door and stepping out.

Lockwood was in one of his usual suits, pink socks poking out from under his trousers, and he was just sorting out his cuffs when he looked up and froze. When he still didn't say anything Y/n's mind started racing ahead to all the different possibilities.

"I look awful, don't I? I'll get my jeans and jumper and get changed, give me a minute."

"No!" Lockwood shouted, his arms outstretched. He hesitated, then spoke again, and his voice was back to how it sounded when he was being an arse. "No, don't do that, just... you look fine like that and we'll be late if you get changed now."

"Oh. Alright." She frowned, wrapping her arms around her midriff as she inspected Lockwood's outfit. "Wait, don't move," she called out when he went to move. Y/n walked over to him, then reached up to straighten out his collar. It had been sticking up, so she smoothed her hands over it to right it, letting them linger on his chest afterwards. He wasn't moving, and she was quite sure that he wasn't breathing either, and when she looked up at him she realised that she was holding her breath too.

They hadn't been this close since they kissed the night before, and then they'd had an audience.

Now it was just the two of them, alone in the room.

"Y/n?" Lockwood asked, his voice slightly hoarse.

"Yeah?" Had his face moved closer? Suddenly she could make out the individual colours in his eyes and was able to count the freckles on his cheeks. He licked his lips, tilting his head slightly to brush his nose against hers, and she felt her eyes fluttering closed.

"Are you two nearly ready? Emma needs help getting food and things ready for the guests!" A loud knock accompanied the shrill voice of Y/n's Aunt Linda, and the pair of them sprang apart, clearing their throats and avoiding eye contact. Y/n marched over to the door and wrenched it open, plastering a smile on her warm face.

"We're ready! Anthony? You coming?"

"Yeah, just... I'll be down in a minute, darling. I just need to use the loo." He flashed the two women a smile, then disappeared into the en-suite. Y/n could have killed him for leaving her alone, but maybe that was for the best given what had just happened.

"Come on then," Linda said, and ushered her downstairs.

~~~

Everyone was busy doing something, and everything was in complete chaos.

"Oh, that can go over there. Tom, don't put that in your mouth, please. No, over there, Ben. Tom! Not in your mouth! You're eleven, this shouldn't be difficult! Boys, please stop mucking about and do something useful! Over there- oh for god's sake, give it here!" Y/n's mother snatched a plate of food away from her husband, rushing between the kitchen and the dining room that was through the open double doors off to the side. The whole area would be brimming with guests in less than thirty minutes, and things were still being put out. "Oh, you're here, that's perfect. Where's Anthony? Never mind, no time. Here, you can put this next to the thingy there!" Luckily Y/n had grown up with her mother's distracted way of talking and knew exactly what she meant, taking the opportunity to run away from Linda.

The next ten minutes followed the same pattern of being handed things and told to put them in various spots on the table, and Lockwood was nowhere to be seen for any of it. Y/n was starting to worry that he'd flushed his skinny beanpole of a frame down the toilet.

"Where's your boyfriend, Y/n?" Stephanie asked, sidling up in a stunning silver dress that looked as though it had been painted on her.

"In the toilet. Are you gonna help, Steph?"

"Oh, you're... wearing that again?" she asked, ignoring Y/n's tired request for help. "Didn't you wear that last year? You've put on a bit of weight since then, haven't you!" She let out a laugh, and Y/n brought her arms around her stomach self-consciously for the second time since putting on the dress. Maybe she should have ignored Lockwood and got changed anyway. At least then when people complained about her outfit she'd be more comfortable in her own body. "Well, personally I think you should get it let out a little, Y/n. You do look awfully-"

"Beautiful?" a voice questioned from Y/n's right, and after a second someone else's arms were around her waist, pulling her back against a warm chest. "She does look stunning, doesn't she?"

"Anthony," Y/n breathed when he spun her around to face him, his hands holding hers tightly. He was smiling one of those private smiles reserved for the people he cared about, small and gentle, and her heart jumped in her chest.

"I... I suppose," Stephanie said, sounding confused. It was so typical of her to not think of her cousin as anything other than a way to make herself look better. Y/n barely noticed when her cousin drifted off, or when her brother picked up his camera and took a photo of the two of them framed by the lights that had been draped over the doorframe, since all she could focus on was the feel of her hands being held by Lockwood and the way he was looking at her.

"Aww, aren't they just adorable!" Y/n's grandmother Jean said loudly, catching the attention of everybody nearby. Apparently half of the guests had arrived on time (of course the one time that happened was the time she had to pull off a huge fake dating stunt), because the kitchen and dining room were packed with people. Murmurs of assent travelled around, and Y/n could hear a few people questioning who the tall young man next to her was, and suddenly her heart was plummeting rather than jumping, and she felt sick.

"Hey," Lockwood whispered, still smiling at her. "We can do this, alright? It's only today and most of tomorrow, and then we're back in London. It's really not that long when you think about it."

He needed to stop being nice to her, because it was freaking her out.

One minute he was saying she looked fine and not seeming to care much about what she looked like, and the next he was declaring that she was beautiful and stunning with such sincerity that she couldn't help but think it was real.

"So this is the boyfriend Linda told us about, huh?" one guest asked.

"Um... yes," Y/n replied, moving closer to Lockwood and curling into his side, trying not to look too stiff and petrified when his arm came around her side. "This is Anthony." She gestured up at him, feeling increasingly uncomfortable about the fact that around thirty people all had their eyes on her, and any one of them could work out that this relationship was a farce and completely destroy any good reputation that she had amongst her family.

"How did it all start? Go on, give us the story!" somebody called out.

"Yeah, we all want to know!" exclaimed a different voice. "Y/n/n's never had a boyfriend before!"

Y/n shared a glance with Lockwood, and he opened his mouth to speak.

part 5

Tag list (I think this is everyone): @ahead-fullofdreams, @aislinrayne, @anathemaloren, @augustisintheair, @avdiobliss, @aysha4life, @briar-rose23, @curseofhecate, @dangelnleif, @edible-rat-vomit, @el-de-phi, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @fearlessmoony, @fudosl, @informedimagining, @karensirkobabes, @locklyebrainrot, @locknco, @mentallyillsodapop, @mischivana, @mitskiswift99, @mrsklockwood, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @newbooksmell777, @no-morning-glories, @novelizt, @ran23sblog, @star-of-velaris, @superpositvecloudshipper, @t2sh0, @taygrls, @tournesol77, @whenselenefallsinlove, @wordsarelife

let me know if you want to be added to/removed from the tag list! <3

[xxfrankiesteinksxx]

small details in the dnpc video no one is mentioning

okay, look, i'm gonna admit it, i'm a game/film theory girly and a whore for lore, so i pick at details i shouldn't be picking at, so here's some things i see in the video that i don't see being mentioned in theories/analyses. also keep in mind my brain consists of a single cell encapsulated in aspic (i know what the actual deeper meaning is this is just a bit of fun for me)

the thing underneath the piano - the camera falls off the piano in one scene and something (i still cant figure out what exactly it might be) is visible, oddly clear-looking for something underneath a broken piano in shoddy lighting (actually looking at it again it might be a corpse, is it possibly phil's old body?)

dan telling phil not to film him drawing the sigils but phil still filming - you might be able to also throw in the part where phil screams "NO" when the camera's on him sitting in the corner; they don't seem to want things to be filmed but it feels like they're obligated to record everything to some extent

phil's very explicit control over dan - this is to the point where he even has to tell dan what and what isn't food, and takes away water privileges for some reason (btw this is your reminder to drink some water) and overall very demanding tone when instructing him

SOFT AND NEAT - there's a lot of reinforcement of this, its clearly a joke but i'm overanalytical and will blatantly ignore this. there's heavy hesitation with any sharp object around them (when dan has to cut his hand, kill phil, take out phil's heart, mentioning razor blades when using the shaving foam)

dan still primarily uses his left hand - people have mentioned how he's been "fixed" but him using his right hand seems to be performative since he pours most things, mixes with his left hand, and even primarily uses his left hand to spread the blood (plus he never sacrificed himself unlike phil who seems to have died in potato stamps and been resurrected with perfect vision) there's also old superstitions that being left-handed means you're somehow cursed by/connected to satan, speaking of which...

dan has a much better connection and the ability to communicate directly with Him - he seems to be a conduit, possibly being used by phil to properly perform anything (which also probably helped with his resurrection and eyesight improvement), he has uncontrollable actions from time to time

the sigils themselves - what do they all mean? what could they mean in a bigger, symbolic context? anyone that understands them pls explain to my aspic brain

the entire place fucking burns down after the ritual is complete and they're embraced by Him - it's clear at least to me that the shed is set on fire at the end of the video, cutting off further possible footage

dan doesn't put blood on phil's forehead during the ritual - might've just been a slipup during filming but we also dont see the blood dan put on his own forehead once he arrives and theyre all standing up in the pentagram

also just a couple fun facts:

the number on the case file when converted to corresponding letters of the alphabet spell out "satan"

what dan says in his reversed clip is just "thanks!", nothing is really said in the reversed clip of phil opening the shed door its juts kinda a random noise someone made

Aaaaand some misc nonsense crackpot theories/ideas/thoughts/brain vomit that my brain keeps me awake at night with (optional reading):

if the demon taking them at the end is actually baphomet and not just some generalized idea of satan, then "mother" could be another way to refer to "him" since baphomet is portrayed as having both female and male characteristics (bobs n pennies)

personally this is scarier/more unnerving than the actual blair witch project for some reason

my bathroom sink is the one sink you cant ship

i want a dapc for those dolls they hung everywhere

is cataloguing all of the ritual setup part of the craft channel's purpose?

what was the reason for summoning him? did they bring him to our plane of existence to just let him absorb these two brink-of-twinks and then use their gay power to torment the straights?

oh that rope is just his belt thing not rope tying dip and pip together

i think this is a good wrap-up idk what they could do in a part 5 to conclude things better

[mayashesfly]

Hi!!

I really love your idea with that Au where Vox forgot about Alastor. I hope you don't mind questions because I have a few 😅😅

Why did he erase his memories? Was it because it was too painful to remember, or was it because he couldn’t deal with the obsession anymore and wanted to move on? 

What will Alastor do about this? How do the Vees react to this information? Like they obviously know Alastor unlike Vox.

Thank you for expressing your interest and asking! I'm glad you enjoy the idea ^w^

I have also made another post about Forgotten Radio AU here if you like to read that. Though do take note that some of the things I've said here and there may be subject to change as I flesh out this AU of mine in time.

For the first question, it's a mixture of the two.

Before Alastor left for seven years, Alastor and Vox had a fight that spiralled out of control which caused Valentino to intervene, causing Vox and Valentino's left antenna to be both be damaged because of Alastor's pettiness. After that, Alastor disappeared while Vox and Valentino was recuperating from that fight.

(Velvette didn't intervene despite already being a part of the Vees at this point since she feels like she doesn't have the right to because she doesn't know the full context of Alastor and Vox's previous relationship and what Vox and Valentino had been through. Vox and Alastor was already having their bitter rivalry and fighting by the time Velvette manifested in Hell)

A major part of my personal take on Vox's character is that he has this built-in need to constantly improve himself so he doesn't lose the things he has in his life.

Vox knows that his obsession with Alastor has been negatively impacting his life and those around him. Especially since it was because of a fight between him and Alastor that Valentino lost his antenna.

When he ended up in a depressive episode and constantly trying to look for Alastor everywhere with his cameras, he ended up neglecting his relationship with Valentino and Velvette. Even Voxtek took a hit since the wound was still raw (literally)

He was at a standstill and he needed an intervention.

Stat.

The first initial "memory wipe" was an impulsive harsh decision on his part. It was sloppy and rough since Alastor was so intricately tied into his early memories in Hell.

But it worked.

At least, for a little bit.

One day, Vox left his office, greeting Valentino and Velvette. The two commenting on the other's more cheery attitude.

At first, Vox was disoriented from the memory wipe. But it instantly improved his mood like never before. For once since that someone's disappearance who is that someone? his mind was completely clear.

Some of his early memories with Valentino was also spotty however. But it eventually smoothened out and he was able to clearly recall those moments of Val.

Though that was not all.

For some reason, he can't bring himself to renovate certain buildings under his name. He didn't really know why but when he saw a certain torn up photo inside of one of his drawers near his bed....

Memories of Alastor flooded back inside his mind and the brutal cycle went again.

It was only after cleanly cutting himself away from the picture did his next memory wipe became much more successful.

He kept the photo of Alastor for business and planning reasons only.

But now there was nothing showing on the picture that he had ever been involved with that demon.

He had been able to find the root of the problem which has caused the failed memory wipe. But now that he has that sorted out and have the appropriate safety and preventive measures to ensure that won't happen again...

Alastor would never take from him again.

Not when he can't ever remember him again.

While Vox is a technology demon, his soul is still human. So despite being able to theoretically erase his memories from his physical body, they're still there spiritually inside of him. Not all demons are given a physical brain after all.

I mean one of the Overlords is a skull on fire, there's probably not a brain there somewhere. And Vox can LITERALLY change his head. Not only that but I'm sure some Sinners got their brains fucked one way or another before fully regenerating, but they'll still probably retain their memory. So yeah, I'm going with the soul shenanigans route on this one.

One of Vox's "preventive measures" to ensure his memory wipe business won't unravel ever again is by wiping his short-term memory about any interaction and mention of the Radio Demon. It was inevitable that one of the Vees would question him about Alastor even after he informed them of his decision after all.

That's also the reason why after Val informed Vox about Alastor return and residence in the Hazbin Hotel that he forgot about him again and thought Alastor was a new upcoming Overlord during the meeting.

My apologies for the long winded explaining-turned-writing. That's just how my brain works when explaining these things :P

Now on your second question!

At first, Alastor would do subtle gestures in order to gain Vox's attention hopefully. However each failed attempt would make his frustration slowly grow and grow over time.

When Alastor caught sight of the painfully obvious Vox drones around the hotel, he purposefully posed in front of them a few times, hoping to finally gloat out the tv-headed demon from his hiding. Much to his growing annoyance and confusion though, nothing happened as the drones flew passed him due to the corrupting footage in order to clearly see what else was happening in the hotel. He did this for a few times a day in slowly increasing frequency for the entire week before Sir Pentious attacked the hotel again and proceeded to get fucked over for ruining Alastor's coat. Alastor barely letting the poor demon alive thanks to Charlie's pleas.

Alastor has missed Vox.

After his seven years of absence, the first place he went to was the very first store front he helped Vox to get and buy. The Radio Shack. At first, those picture boxes were the newest thing in town. And he didn't even stain them with the innards of his enemies!

But a certain broadcast brought him back to reality as to why he was able to go back to hell as he stared at the image of the Princess of Hell, Charlie Morningstar.

Vox has already sold some of the old tvs despite being stained and bloodied, unlike in Canon because of his lack of attachment.

Alastor was banking on Vox to notice his absence and do something about it just like old times. However a week of waiting and nothing had happened. Except for the new additions of drones around the hotel he resided in.

He thought by some point surely Vox would do something as he posed in front of the cameras subtly. But nothing happened for a week and Alastor started to feel confused because he didn't know if Vox was actually paying attention to him when those stupid flying things were just ignoring him!

(In my mind, the reason why Alastor looked mildly annoyed at Vox's broadcast in Stayed Gone was because he thought Vox would've confronted him directly instead of dissing him on the screen. It was a special occasion after all! He just came back from a seven year absence! But no. He still happily took the chance though and quickly ran/teleported back into his radio tower to diss him back)

After the confrontation between the two of them in the Overlord Meeting, it takes Alastor a while to puzzle out what Vox did to himself. He doesn't fully know that Vox actually completely wiped his memories of him but he does know that Vox doesn't seem to care about him anymore, even with their bitter rivalry and that hurt.

It was yet another thing that changed when it was somrthing he could always count on despite how fucked up that is.

His frustration starts being inflicted onto other people who were unfortunate enough to cross his path while he's fuming about this change (ei Sir Pentious and possibly Husker later down the line)

And his want to get back Vox's attention eventually escalates to him destroying some of Vox's properties by asking his Shadow. Starting small like a few drones and cameras, to some of the store fronts of his. (But never the Radio Shack. Never that.)

Even with Alastor's feelings about Vox ignoring him, he would never risk his reputation by overtly and directly trying to get Vox's attention by himself.

The only way I can see this plot between Alastor and Vox progress is when enough time has passed and Alastor's inhibitors and self-control snapped that he physically teleports himself into Vox's office to directly confront him. (It hurt to use his shadow to travel there with all the blinding lights but the hidden radio in his office helped to ease the stinging pain a little)

Or Vox directly involves himself with the Hazbin Hotel because he never sent in Sir Pentious himself and he still had to make sure that the Radio Demon, a previously powerful Overlord, wouldn't make a deal with the Princess of Hell of all people. (Unlike Canon Vox, he has enough tact to stay in the same room as Alastor to not need a proxy. On the topic of Sir Pentious, it's currently a toss up if he'll ever enter the Hazbin Hotel or not and fuck up the timeline big time)

Once Alastor realized just how badly Vox fucked up that he erased his memories of him, he would try his best to jog his memory.

But constantly having to reintroduce yourself to Vox because his memories of you keeo getting wiped away is excruciating.

"Are you new around here?"

"Who are you?"

"I'm sorry, I don't think we've met before"

"It's nice to meet the man helping Princess Charlie with her endeavor"

"Oh! So you're the Radio Demon himself?"

"I'm Vox from Voxtek, the Leader of the Vees. Nice to meet you"

So any of his progress, no matter how little or large would get erased the next meeting. Even if he just left his sight for even a moment....

It was going nowhere.

He can never ever reconnect with Vox ever again.

Just like he wanted.

Even as his friendship bloomed with the Princess and the residents, even as his powers and influence continue to grow, it was always back to square one with him.

He was so close, yet he was the farthest he's ever been to him.

"You've never cared about me, Alastor. What changed now?"

Now with the Vees, Valentino was rather furious and hurt the first time it happened. Vox didn't even consult him, didn't even say anything to him about this decision! And it hurt when Vox seemed to have also lost some of his memories of him. Velvette had also been enraged and confused about Vox's actions. It was needless to say they were both unnerved.

It took a while, but they got used to it and Vox getting back his memories of Valentino helped.

Vox was happier this way after all, and it wasn't like they can do anything to revert his decision even if it was done in impulse...

However, it had been difficult for them when Vox had a relapse after regaining his memoried of Alastor. The grief was raw and fresh again which didn't help matters.

This time around though, despite Vox's distressed state, they did talk about his decision and vowed to try to never mention the Radio Demon again. It still takes them some time adjusting though, and even Val falls through on his old habits sometimes.

They know it was Vox's decision and they respect that. Even if it hurts a bit, at least he was happy.

I hope this sufficiently answered your questions even if most ended up as writing instead of concise explanations. Thank you for asking these questions! It makes me happy to see you guys are interested! ^w^ ^w^

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞

pairing: joel miller x tess servopoulos

genre: smut, romance, angst, hurt comfort, minors dni

word count: 9.4k

summary: To put it simply, Tess did not want to exist but did so anyway. She stared blankly at everyone and everything. Her mind and heart urged her to make the smart choices. She was quick to eliminate the possibilities that might cause her death. She assessed the weak links of the group. Stayed clear away from them. 

Smart choices. She blamed that part of herself for wanting to approach the Millers.

Or alternatively, the story of how Joel and Tess met and how they came to be.

warnings: canon typical violence, suicidal thoughts, mention of past suicide attempt, grief, loneliness, mild spoilers for the HBO show/podcast, timeskips, joel has a bit of a pain kink, piv, marking, biting, hair pulling, dirty talking, oral sex (female receiving), blood, wound cleaning, mention of body hair, dissociating for both

a/n: yes I changed the title from "the seed" to "spitfire" due to a specific scene that wasn't yet written (or even an idea in my brain) when I posted the sneak peek. I've been in love with these two ever since I watched the gameplay and my love only grew with the show. writing this was definitely out of my comfort zone but I enjoyed it and hope you guys will enjoy reading it 💜

Tess was alone. Her loneliness burned through her skin, hallowed out her eyes, and drew deep lines across her face. She was so very tired. Every muscle ached. Even her heart. She didn’t want to cry about it. Early on she figured that the wetness of her eyes meant nothing to this new world. It didn’t gather sympathy. Only made her into a mark. Once she saw her reflection in the water. Before she was made a part of the group. It made her feel sick to her core. Everything was just so meaningless. It didn’t suit her to show that weakness. It wasn’t worth the strain on the muscles of her face or the ache in her heart. 

The group found her. There was an issue if she was worth it or not, but thank god for her wits and unyielding tongue, she was made part of it quite quickly. They were heading to Boston. 

She didn’t bother with learning their names. They all did despicable things in the name of survival. Horrid things. Things that gave her nightmares and forced her eyes to open at night. She would wake up drenched in sweat, her heart racing as she looked up at the stars. The stars she remembered gazing upon with her family. A husband. A son. All gone. She closed her eyes in a weak attempt to shut down her mind. But of course that didn’t work. It never did. In fact, she was quite sure it did the opposite. Memories would come rushing back. The moment she held him for the first time in her shaking arms. The moment she left him locked inside his room. Condemning him to live out the infection alone. 

She could still hear the banging of the door sometimes. 

A month later a pair of brothers joined them. Joel and Tommy Miller. Tommy did most of the talking, convincing them that they would be a helpful addition. The other one—the older one, Tess guessed, was not as keen. Clearly joining just to be near his brother.  They were quick on the trigger which was enough for them to be included. Tess had no intention of befriending them. Or anyone else for that matter. But Joel. . . she could see some use that could come out of him. She could see a pain similar to hers. Something that ate him from the inside out. His gaze only softened when he thought no one could see, and only when he was staring at his brother. It would usually be something mundane. Either Tommy would be cleaning out his rifle or putting on his shoes. In those times Joel’s eyes became soft, dark grief blurring the lines of the color. 

The group dwindled. Most of them died, one by one. Leaving only a handful of them. Tess didn’t know why but she had this insufferable instinct to stay alive. She didn’t understand it. Before the outbreak she never fancied herself being a person who contemplated the meaning of life. She just lived. She had a job, a husband, a cute son. That was meant to be her meaning, wasn’t it? During the night when darkness stretched out and drowned out the shine of the stars, she found herself thinking about it a lot.  Tess knew she didn’t want to live. It was suffering. Hell on earth. It was meaningless. Why was she here when so many others weren’t? Tess scoffed when people mentioned divine punishment. It was stupid. She might be a shit person now, and hell, maybe she did deserve to be punished for the things she did and was going to do. But during the brief period when she was wandering alone, she met some good people. Not a lot. However, she would spit in the face of a god who had decided those handful of people should be punished with the rest of them. 

To put it simply, Tess did not want to exist but did so anyway. She stared blankly at everyone and everything. Her mind and heart urged her to make the smart choices. She was quick to eliminate the possibilities that might cause her death. She assessed the weak links of the group. Stayed clear away from them. 

Smart choices. She blamed that part of herself for wanting to approach the Millers. A simple exchange for her smarts for their muscle. Tess never had this need to group up with anyone specific in their little crew before. No one had really spiked her interest. Neither Tommy nor Joel seemed like the brightest bulbs in the box but, she had to admit, they had a hell of a way to survive. Tess wasn’t strong. Sure, she aimed right and could stab someone in the neck, but those talents didn’t necessarily mean that she was strong where it counted. Granted, her biggest weapon was manipulation. She hardly found regret when she tricked someone. Why should she? Nothing mattered. 

She observed the brothers. Joel was a lost cause and Tess was pretty sure the older brother hadn’t uttered a word to any of them since he joined. His hardened gaze was enough to make anyone cower in fear and stay away. Tommy on the other hand. . .  he was approachable. Tess could see that whatever had broken Joel hadn’t had the same effect on his brother. Tommy talked to her sometimes. Asked her where she was from, how did she end up with the rest of this messy bunch—his words not her’s. Tess did answer, some part of her hoping that the titbits of her life would reach Joel. In return for the information she gave, she learned about them as well. Not a lot, but little was still something. 

One day she gave the brothers her last can of fruit. She had been hiding it for a while and was planning on eating the sweet, albeit out of date, peaches when her period came. She always ached for something sweet during those times. But she had a plan in motion and in the long run, Tess knew that this small, purposeful, act of kindness would do well for her. 

She was right. A week later cold had started to settle into the earth, Tommy brought her a jacket. She didn’t ask where it came from. Nor did she comment on why it was still warm. With a thanks touching her lips, she put it on, ignoring the uncomfortable churn of her stomach. 

Joel still didn’t talk to her. Tess noticed him staring a lot. During moments when the fire was crackling, heating up their sore bodies, she was allowed to sit closer to them. She didn’t remember the last time she strived to be closer to someone. She was doing it for her own benefit, of course, but still, Tess had forgotten how to approach people without frowning at how ridiculous it felt to talk about the blossoming flowers. Or the weather. 

Every day she felt worse without knowing how to make herself feel better. Every day opening her eyes proved to be more of a struggle. She was in purgatory. Destined to repeat the same sad cycle. 

Tommy made her feel a little bit better. He talked endlessly, even when words didn’t need to be said. Tess knew the signs men made in order to distract themselves. Tommy was in pain. At least his own version of it. He lived it differently compared to his brother. Joel sulked, kept to himself, locked himself up tight like a stubborn walnut. In this aspect, Tess felt closer to Joel. She was very much the same. Her desire to talk about her feelings was close to none, and in moments she succumbed to that desire, she felt embarrassed the next day. Almost shy. She recognizes it’s a stupid emotion to have in a world on fire, but something she couldn’t help. Her body had a mind of its own, disobeying her in the most crucial moments. An example of this would be her breathing. She was sick and tired of it. 

If there was a god, and she was doubtful of the fact, Tess would want the deity to convince her why she should keep going. What was she fighting for? Why was she here? It was foolish to think there was a higher purpose, she knew there wasn’t one. So why was her body keep fighting on her behalf? 

She had too many questions, she realized. 

No wonder nobody bothered to show up and spill the cosmic beans to her.

Joel wasn’t expecting Tess to join him during his watch. Or maybe he was, he had no idea what the hell his brain was thinkin’ anymore. He’d noticed the looks. Something was stirring and he could sniff trouble comin’ from a mile away, unlike Tommy, who seemed to be too eager in making friends instead of watching his own goddamn back. Joel had met Tess’s gaze approximately once. Her eyes were green and he thought about how much brighter they must’ve been before all hell broke loose. Now it was a muddled color, a shade of green you would find at the bottom of a polluted lake. Joel didn’t remember why he had looked into her eyes. He thought it was because she said something, or maybe it was Tommy that had said something first. He couldn’t tell the days apart. Every moment bled into one another, turning time into one nonsensical blob.  

Tess sat across from him, the fading embers made her skin glow a warm orange. The night had begun to grow longer, the day shorter. Luckily, they were getting close to Boston. Joel couldn’t wait to get rid of the nonessentials that surrounded them. Tommy was fast asleep along with the other two people who remained in their crew. Without realizing it, Joel hugged his rifle tighter. Tess’s eyes followed the moment. Her gaze lingered on the rifle for a moment before meeting Joel’s gaze. She didn’t say anything and it made Joel feel awkward. He cleared his throat and spread his legs wider. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, understanding instantly that this exact question was what she was hoping for. She doesn’t smile, but her lips mimic the shape of it. 

She answered. “Nope.” 

Silence. 

Since when was Joel disturbed by silence? Never. Not even when it was absolute strangers he was with. He never felt the awkward nature of it. Silence had become his friend, his confidant. He spoke to it without making a sound. In the dead of night, he would move his lips, talking to it endlessly. He had to. He had to or he would go insane—or maybe he’d already passed the line separating the two. Joel wasn’t sure. The line was a blur.

Now, the silence felt menacing. His skin grew taut, his bones stiff. His mouth dry like sandpaper, he swallows, then again and again. Filling his mouth with saliva only for it to go dry a moment later. 

“I’d rather be alone,” he grunted, internally flinching at how loud he sounded. Joel was hoping this would be the end of it. The sentence paired with his glare was an excellent people repellent. 

She only shrugged, garnering his greatest weapon useless, “And I’d rather stay.”

Joel didn’t know what to say to that. He found her statement to be utter bullshit. No one wanted to stay with him. He wasn’t blind, he could see that over the months his brother grew uncomfortable around him. Hell, not even himself. Instinctively, he touched the scar on his temple, still fresh, pulsing under the pads of his fingers. If she noticed, she didn’t ask. 

It wouldn’t have mattered if she’d did. Joel wouldn’t have answered her. 

“I know you’ve been sniffin’ around for information,” he said in a firm tone, leveling her with a stern gaze. He felt his cheeks burning but couldn’t quite understand why. It was a cold night. “I ain’t gonna give you anythin’. This ain’t a get-together. We’ll travel to Boston with our skin still in place, if lucky, and that’ll be it.” 

“I agree.” 

Joel raised an eyebrow, his fingers tightening around the long muzzle of the rifle. “See you say you understand,” he grunted. “But you’re still sittin’ there, eager for a conversation.” 

“I never said I wanted a conversation,” Tess answers, her brows inching closer as she assessed him with a humorful smile. It made him feel stupid. Like she was in on some kind of joke that he wasn’t aware of. “I don’t care about you, Joel.” 

He blinked, confusion etching into the growing lines of his face. His lips parted, the air between them tense for multiple reasons. Tess sighed and leaned back as she arched her back, her spine craving from the pressure. She looked like a cat in a sunbeam. 

“I don’t care about your brother either,” she confirmed something that Joel already knew. “And if I’m being honest, I don’t really care about myself either but here I am, trying to survive. Get to Boston, hope that FEDRA is better there.” 

“It won’t be.” 

“Well,” she answered, her voice growing soft along with the green of her eyes, slightly brighter compared to that swamp color. “A girl can always dream.” 

Unlike her, Joel did not soften. In fact, he hardened. He moved his jaw, locking it tight. His shoulders stayed firm, and his gaze, devoid of any color, looked directly into her own. 

“Was there a reason for you you tellin’ me you don’t give to shit about my brother and I or did I miss it?” 

“I’m just keeping everything out in the open,” the light faded in her eyes and Joel relaxed upon seeing it return. “I don’t care about you two, you don’t care about me. So how about we make this trip a useful one for the three of us.” 

Joel barked a silent laugh, “Are you suggestin’ we team up?” his smirk stretched from one side to another, it felt like his lips cracked with the unpracticed expression. He bared his teeth to her. Leaned forward, the dying embers warming his neck and reddening his cheeks. “There’s no reason for that. We’re already in a group.” 

“They’ll be dead soon. And so will we, if we don’t have each other’s backs.” 

“I ain’t trustin’ you,” he answered and Tess seemed to understand. He could see it in her eyes. He shook his head. “Look, you seem smart, but you’re barkin’ up the wrong tree. What do you suggest? That we run away the three of us? If that was somethin’ I wanted I would just run along with Tommy.” 

“But he doesn’t want to,” Tess cut in, looking at him between dainty eyelashes. Joel sucked in a breath, his chest expanding uncomfortably. “Isn’t that the whole reason you joined us? Tommy wanted in. Though I’m sure he’s regretting it now. After seeing what we’re capable of as people.” 

“He knows what needs to be done,” Joel hissed through clenched teeth. “Don’t pretend you know him. You don’t.”

His anger simmered pleasantly under his skin. He greeted this emotion with open arms, he enjoyed feeling the rage. It made him sharp, made him briefly forget about the world he was a part of. The hot anger made him see nothing but red. After years of building and building, it felt good to be allowed to destroy. He would stare at his hands a lot when no one was looking. He would get scarred either way. Building and destroying. It didn’t matter. With the latter, he’d not often felt regret. 

“Is he scared of you, Joel?” 

“Excuse me?” 

The words struck a cord within him. He couldn’t understand at first. And when he did his simmering anger came to a boiling point. In that moment, he wanted to shoot her. He wouldn’t. Tess was defenseless and it would cause more trouble than his trigger-happy fingers were worth. Besides, he still had somewhat of a conscience, at least when it came to the people who he was semi-in close relations with. 

Tess, knowing well that she managed to crawl under Joel’s skin, smiled. 

“He’s scared of you,” she repeated, making Joel’s ears burn. “That’s why he doesn’t want to be alone with you. I saw how you two operate, you’re still trying to protect him from it, aren’t you?” 

“He’s a veteran,” he croaked. “He doesn’t need my protection.” 

“I’m not saying he’s not dangerous, or less violent than you. But when push comes to shove, you gladly take that responsibility away from him.” 

“So what if I do?” Joel spat. He had forgotten that he was trying to make this woman go away. Blood rushed to his ears and he heard little when it came to their surroundings. All he could see was Tess. She was looking at him with curiosity and a hint of something else. A familiarity. “He’s the only thing I have left. Hell will freeze over before I lose him too.” 

“Too?” 

Shit. Joel was in deep. He wanted to shut up but couldn’t, he felt like she could understand him. Even parts of him he couldn’t quite understand yet. But despite that sudden need to share the thought he hadn’t even shared with Tommy, Joel kept his silence. He pressed his lips tightly together. 

“I guess that was stupid of me to say. Of course, you lost someone else. We all have,” she met Joel’s glare and slowly got up. She fixed the crumpled part of the jacket Tommy gave her, which Joel felt ridiculous— who cared about being neat? Must’ve been a force of habit—and she turned on her heel. 

“I’ll leave you to it. I think I’m going to try and catch a couple of hours before it’s my turn.” she stopped before she disappeared completely. Joel expected her to turn around but she didn’t. “Thanks for the conversation.” 

And with that, she left. 

“Dammit,” Joel grumbled from underneath his breath. He hadn’t expected the conversation to go as long as it did. He settled back into position, relaxing his muscles and legs. She had asked to team up but left without pressing on the matter. Joel found that to be weird. He also couldn’t deny the fact that he enjoyed the back and forth. Some sick part of him liked the challenge, it almost felt like dancing, which he wasn’t half bad at before the outbreak. 

He let out a sigh and touched his scar again. He didn’t trust himself or his thought process anymore. He especially didn’t trust his hands. They had betrayed him once, who was to say that they wouldn’t betray him again? Joel didn’t want to be here. He went on for family, something he often said to Tommy, his only family late. But if he was going to be honest, he would rather make the shot than be here. Surviving. Alone. His only purpose in life taken from him. 

Joel would never see Sarah. He would never hear her laughter or watch her grow old. 

He would never get to see her graduate. 

He would never get to walk her down the aisle. 

She was gone, forever. And that notion was still unfamiliar to him. He couldn’t believe it, he doubted he ever could believe it. His guilt really came streaming in when he found himself glad that Sarah couldn’t see all of this. She didn’t see the runners, the clickers. She didn’t witness humanity turning on itself. She didn’t see what Joel had become. And god knows he would’ve been so much worse if she were alive. He would’ve done everything to keep her alive and well, not a soul he would topple over for the sake of her. 

So, he didn’t want Sarah to be here with him. No. Even if it was painful to admit, he didn’t want her to see all this. He didn’t want her to live through this hell. 

Joel wished he had the strength to join her instead. 

“One day,” he promises her, whispering into the silence as he often did. “We’ll be together, baby girl. I’m sorry, your dad is a coward.” 

Tess burrowed into her jacket. Her neck felt cold, and her fingers numb. She stared at Joel’s back from where she was crouching at. Finally, they had managed to drag their asses to a city and after waiting around for an hour or so they spotted a group heading their way. They had a decent-looking car and were too cheerful to not have the supplies that they needed to make the last walk to Boston. She watched as Tommy stumbled forward, clenching his stomach and heading to the middle of the road. She hated this part. No matter what anyone thought of her, she did not enjoy taking advantage of the naivety of people. Just because she used weaknesses to her advantage often, didn’t mean she enjoyed it. 

However, she did notice a growing blood lust in her. She didn’t like the tricking, but she sure as hell enjoyed the fighting. Tess never dubbed herself a violent person. At least not before, but somehow, after months, she found it as a decent enough release. There were no drinks on the road, only the sweet satisfaction when her bullet met its mark. 

The car screeched to a halt. A man came out, looking with worry but also suspicion. Tess’s gaze moved from Tommy to Joel. He was tense, thick fingers ready to take aim if anything would happen to his brother. The man leaned forward, asking if Tommy was alright. He was. Before the man could react, Tommy’s fist collided with his chin. The stranger stumbled forward, two other men came stumbling out of the car. Joel shot one in the left without hesitation. He came out of hiding and so did Tess. She always had Joel’s back. At first, she thought she did this because she needed Joel. After a while, she noticed this wasn’t quite the case. It was a month to a flame kind of situation. She wanted to be near him. She wanted to be the one to take down anyone who thought they could harm them. 

Them being her, Joel, and Tommy. 

Joel didn’t like wasting bullets. He took out his knife and plunged it into someone’s neck. The sound should’ve horrified her, but she just felt a sick thrill rushing up her spine. This was the world they lived in now. One born out of violence. 

The three men fell and immediately their crew started raiding the vehicle. Just like Tess suspected, the car was in good shape, they could’ve used it. Tess felt Joel’s presence right next to her, his broad shoulder brushing against hers. Joel and Tommy made a habit of checking in with Tess to ask what they needed most. Even if Joel had said no to the team-up, they had become one, without knowing. While the other two looked in the trunk, Joel leaned into Tess’s ear, his hot breath fanning her dirt-ridden skin. It felt oddly nice. 

“This car won’t hold the five of us,” he said in a hushed tone. “Let’s ditch’em.” 

“Look at you finally warming up to me,” she teased, the corners of her lips twitching. Joel frowned but still, she could see a tenderness in his charcoal eyes. “Do you have a plan?” 

“I mean, isn’t it obvious?” he shifted uncomfortably, pulling the rifle to his front. Tess’s gaze dropped to the weapon briefly, her eyes immediately shooting back up to meet his. She didn’t need him to spill it out. Tess knew exactly what he meant, and honestly, he didn’t mind the straightforward plan. They would’ve done the same—this was something Tess repeated herself constantly, she believed it. 

“What about Tommy?” Tess asked, unlike Joel and her, Tommy knew their names. She didn’t think he cared about them but still, despite all they’d done, the younger Miller still had a weird code that he tended to follow. 

“He’ll understand.” 

Everyone had their mantras they tended to repeat. Even if they didn’t quite believe it. Saying they would’ve done the same, was Tess’s, and saying he’ll understand was Joel’s. Maybe Tommy did understand, Tess never bothered to ask or check-in. 

Her sole focus was getting the three of them to Boston alive. Honestly, she didn’t know a bigger thing in this world to show that she cared. They’d grown close in odd ways. Tess would throw over them a blanket or jacket when their teeth clattered at night. She found this to be peaceful, her soul easing just a bit at the familiarity of the action. And when they were on the road, the brother began to cage her in, having her in the middle. Tess hated hiking. She always fucking tripped. They caught her, every time. Their conversation skills lacked, someone would eventually strike a nerve but Tess knew over time, that would grow strong as well. 

Funnily enough, they didn’t kill them. When Tommy got a sense of what was happening, he guarded Joel’s back. Family came first after all. Joel beat them, knocked them out, and left them bloody and whimpering. Tess watched with fascination. He had so much rage. She should’ve been used to it but she wasn’t. Every time he heard a bone crack, her breath hitched. Joel had something else driving him, that was her only explanation. His gaze would become dazed and he would bare his teeth like a wild animal. She often saw that Joel wouldn’t hear no one in this state, only on rare occasions he would hear Tommy. 

The man was consumed by violence. He drowned in it. Yet she knew he longed for something else. Something similar that Tess longed for as well. Neither of the brothers told her but she knew. No one could hide the pain of losing a child. And he knew she showed it as well. Hiding that kind of pain was unbearable, unthinkable. In some sense, she was happy that she showed it. It meant that he was with her, always. Be it good or bad. 

When the beating stopped, one still remained conscious. His faze was swollen, crimson blood pouring from his mouth. Joel took a fistful of his hair and pulled his head back so their former crew member could look into his eyes. She wondered what they saw. Would she ever be the end of that gaze? She figured that wouldn’t be the worst way to go. 

“You’re goin’ to forget about us?” Joel growled. “Understand?” 

The man whimpered something similar to a fuck you but Tess couldn’t quite tell. Joel snarled and his fist whirred through the air, landing the finishing blow. 

When the three entered the car, Tess could see the small movements of their chests. Barely there. The concrete they were laying on stained with red. 

They weren’t good people. 

And she couldn’t find it in herself to care. 

Boston QZ was most certainly better than Detroit. At least for the time being. It was still shit, but Tess felt that she could breathe better here. Fedra was easier to persuade with goods. Goods that she had no trouble getting her hands on, thanks to the Millers. They worked subtly at first, learning the routes and making “friends” among the smugglers that already had their respective spots and partners. 

Tommy and Joel stayed together while Tess stayed alone in the apartment opposite from them. Sometimes she would look through the dusty windows, stealing brief glances at Joel and Tommy. They sat on the couch a lot. Talked a lot. During nights when Tess woke up drenched in sweat and her heart ramming in her chest, she found solace in seeing a dim light pouring through their window. It made her feel less alone. 

After a week, she noticed a blue butterfly on their window. One time she felt brave enough to ask about it. She was already in their apartment so it felt like the perfect moment. 

“What’s with the butterfly?” 

Joel’s eyes slowly moved to the delicate decoration, his gaze lingered. “Apparently Tommy took it from Sarah’s room. He kept it all this time and thought it would be good to finally hand it.” he sounded almost wistful. 

That was the first time Joel mentioned Sarah to Tess. She found herself speechless and didn’t say a word. A warmth she had forgotten blossomed in her chest and spread through her body like wildfire. Her ears started to ring, her heart started beating too fast. The warmth she felt turned into something sickly hot, so hot that she had trouble breathing. She thought herself to be spiraling. Her eyes couldn’t focus and her breath came out in harsh pants. Joel’s presence loomed near her. Just his presence without any physical touch. He slightly leaned forward, ready to place his large hands on the span of her back if she needed it. She swallowed, refusing to ask for the comfort. 

It wasn’t the fact that she was touched by Joel’s non-existent confession that he had lost his daughter. It was the fact that she was right and this man shared the same pain as she did. Her mind went back in time, images blurring into a sickly dark color until it stopped on a certain September night. She’d skipped dinner, running late that night. When she arrived home she saw the empty plates and a portion left out for her, pasta with a pre-made marinara sauce. Without touching it, she looked around, finding their home to be uncharacteristically silent. Tess didn’t know what possessed her to do it, but she took a knife with her as she entered the living room—

“Tess,” Joel called, his voice dropping an octave. Still not touching her. “Tess, are you alright?” 

“I,” she shook her head. “I’m fine.” 

Tess knew how to influence Joel. It wasn’t the same with Tommy, the younger Miller was more eager to believe in everything and anything. Joel was easier. He didn’t want to think, he didn’t want to plan, which made it easier for Tess because she always had a plan. Responsibility weighed heavily on Joel’s shoulders and he wanted nothing more than to give that away. 

But sometimes Tess forgot that Joel read her just as easily. 

She felt his palm resting between her shoulder blades. She let out a breath then. His hand eased the tension of her back, moving up and down and back up again. Her shoulders dropped and so did her head. Joel continued to do this until her breathing returned to normal and she found her voice again. Never would she thought that the same hands that destroyed so easily could be her sense of comfort. 

“Thanks,” she croaked out, her voice shaky. 

“You’re good,” he answered. His hand had stopped moving but still laid heavily over her back. “I had the same—if not worse— reaction when Tommy showed me the butterfly. I was furious. . . this thing that we feel, it ain’t ever gonna get easy.” 

Her resolve started to crack. She imagined her blood pouring through the gaps like thick tar. That’s how it felt and it hurt as much. Still, it fucking hurt. She would never heal from this, she would never have that hope again. At least that was what she believe back then, before a girl showed up saying that she was immune. 

Tess sucked in a sharp breath through the gaps of her teeth. Her eyes were wet. She struggled to keep it all in, a knot big as her fist clogging her throat. 

The curve of Joel’s nose pressed against the side of her cheek. His eyes were closed. Two hands came to her sides and skimmed down her forearms. His hot breath fanned her cheek and she felt his lips. They were chapped and rough against her tender flesh. He didn’t kiss her, but he might as well have. 

“His name was Jason,” she choked and her nostrils flared. It was unbearable. The way she felt. She just wanted all of it to stop; her shivering, her tears, her thoughts, her flood of memories. But it didn’t. 

Tess didn’t remember much after that. She didn’t fall or collapse, she didn’t sob loudly with parted lips. She cried silently, exhaling sharp pants. The streaks burned her face. Her bottom lips quivered. Sometimes during that, Joel had pulled her towards the couch she so often saw through her own window. His arm never left her shoulder and occasionally he brushed his knuckles over the shimmering wetness that glided down her face. 

It was nice and unexpected. Somewhere along the journey, Tess managed to gain more than she had hoped for. She was looking for a soldier. Someone who would be use of her physically. Fighting the battles she could not when her wits weren’t enough. Joel proved to be more than what she thought of him. She gained so much more. 

She gained a friend. Someone who understood her. And honestly, what more could you ask during the end of times?

You keep going for family. This was another thing Joel said in moments of vulnerability. A reminder of sorts. 

It was raining when Tommy left him, it was raining still. Tess’s boots smacked heavily against the wet pavement. She had heard the rumors before confirming it from Joel himself. Tommy had joined those nutcases called the fireflies. The younger Miller had left them both. Some part of her didn’t want to believe it. She had seen the signs of it but it was still hard to believe Tommy would actually leave Joel. Despite their differences, they were strong together, and in a world like this, that was something you wouldn’t want to give up. 

The fireflies must’ve brainwashed him. Tess could see no other way. 

The door was already open when she got there and it creaked after she entered and closed it. Joel was sitting on the couch, his legs parted and hands cradling his face. He didn’t make a noise as Tess approached him. She knelt in front of him, curling her fingers around his wrists. They barely closed around the bone. 

“He left,” he said. “He fuckin’ left to save the goddamn world. Again.” 

Tess clicked her tongue, a soft smile gracing her countenance. She slowly shook her head, “They never learn.” 

Joel sighed and pulled his hands away from his face. His arms dropped to his knees along with Tess’s hands. He just stared at her. His gaze unfocused like he wasn’t there. 

“He’s gonna get himself killed,” Joel bristled. Only then Tess noticed his hoarse voice, as if he’d been shouting for a good ten hours. Her fingers twitched above his forearms, she did a brief scan. She took in the sight of a broken chair, the shattered glass on the floor. It must’ve been one hell of a fight. “He promised to let me know what he’s up to thanks to the radio. Every Sunday he said. Like that makes this situation any goddamn better.”

Her gaze moved back to Joel. In the dark of the living room, she had failed to notice the dark circle slowly forming around his eyes. Lighting struck and she saw it more clearly. The sudden burst of light gave him a menacing look. Her heart pounded loudly in her chest, a soft gasp parting her lips. Goosebumps pebbled over her skin so fast that it stung. 

“He’ll be fine,” Tess said, her words empty to her own ears. 

“You don’t know that.” 

“I don’t,” she agreed. “But I know that Tommy is capable, he’ll find his way. Eventually.” 

“I did this,” Joel said suddenly, ignoring her words that was meant to comfort him. “I keep saying he understands what needs to be done. I can’t help it. I still see him as that hopeful kid before that moron shipped himself off to war. Somethin’ died in him Tess. I don’t know what’ll happen to him if the last bit of his goodness also dies. He’s not like us. Hope feeds him.” 

Not like us. 

So Joel had noticed it too. That there was more to them than common losses and the way that they dealt with it. Joel saw her as bit of destructive as he was, only in different ways. Tess was surprised to see that this notion didn’t bother her. It was more like a relief. A brush of soft waves burying her feet into the sand. She didn’t want to act or pretend to be something that she wasn’t. She wasn’t kind, she wasn’t good. Joel saw that. He saw parts of him in her that allowed him to confess things he probably didn’t even confess to his brother. Joel always saw Tommy as light and himself as darkness. Tess could argue that Tommy’s “light” wasn’t exactly something good or useful. She found it more to be a defense mechanism for tricking himself that this world had more to offer—but she’s rather cut her tongue off than say that to Joel. He had enough going on in that thick skull of his. 

“Then you have nothing to worry about,” Tess answered, watching as Joel furrowed his brows. “Fireflies are nothing but hopeful idiots believing that things might change.” 

“I don’t want him to live in a delusion.” 

“Then let him see what the world is for himself. You’ve done enough. You can’t shield him forever.” 

His pupils ate away the color of his eyes that was already dark to begin with. Tess held his breath while his gaze searched for something, flitting over every surface of her face. Something shifted in the air. Tess could feel it needling into her skin, her heart heavy with a desire she had completely forgotten about. Her skin prickled and her fingers twitched. 

Joel breathed heavily, not moving an inch. His eyes dropped to her lips and she could see the hints of confusion burrowing into his rugged features. Tess wasn’t known for her patience. Especially not now. She closed the distance, crashing their lips together, devouring the mourning man hungrily. Joel leaned closer and his legs spread futher, allowing Tess to inch closer to the gaps of his body. 

She slipped her tongue between his lips and he threaded his fingers into her hair. He tasted like moonshine and the artificial, bitter taste of pills. She felt blunt nails against her scalp, burying themselves into the dry skin. Joel pulled and she went, baring her neck. He tugged on her locks harder, pressed his lips against her neck. She felt teeth and tongue. Joel bit into her, again and again, marking her, pouring his need to possess and keep those he cared for close to him. 

Tess returned the gesture in kind. Her hands went up the flannel of his shirt and she dragged her nails down his back. She heard him hissing into her skin. She keened at the sound, demanded more of it. When she did it again, Joel groaned. He dragged his lips up her neck and all the way up to her temple where he breathed heavily. 

“Harder,” he rasped, his own fingers making their presence known by pulling at the roots of her hair. “Make me feel it, Tess.” 

His Texan drawl had become deeper with pleasure and pain. Tess bit his bottom lip and pulled as she slowly got up. She shrugged off her jacket and plaid, kicked away his jeans and boots. She wanted to feel him as well. She wanted to feel the rough drag of the worn fabric of his jeans, wanted to feel his hands on her bare skin. Joel’s gaze was all-consuming, devouring. Tess straddled his lap, the ache in her thighs growing as she accommodate the width of his hips. Joel wanted no time spreading his fingers over the expanse of her back, feeling the small scars that lingered there. 

She was braless and Tess knew he liked the fact that she was. Her nipples pebbled with the cold of the room, the dampness of rain seeping through the walls easily. Joel wasted no time taking the peaked flesh between his lips. His hands cupped her waist and her head fell back at how harshly he sucked. Her back arched, pushing more of herself between those sinful lips. He swirled his tongue, nipped the aching flesh. Arousal pooled between her legs and Tess felt the fabric sticking to her folds, making her shift over his lap. 

Tess could feel how hard Joel was through his jeans. She rolled her hips, both of them moaning at the sudden jolt of pleasure rolling over their heated skin. 

She gripped his hair and yanked his head back, a groan vibrating through his chest. Tess kissed him hard, he sucked her tongue and in return, Tess grinned and bit him. He hissed into her open mouth. “Do you feel it now, Joel?” 

“Shit—I do,” he guided the sloppy roll of her hips, his hand dropped between her legs, thumb grazing over her throbbing clit. “Can’t wait to bury myself deep in this sweet pussy, spitfire. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Me fuckin’ you hard so you can’t think anythin’ else.” 

He’d called her spitfire, she hadn’t expected herself to enjoy that as much as she did. That nickname would be reserved for when it was just the two of them. 

“That would be ideal, yes,” she purred, cradling Joel’s face, she pulled up his gaze. “Hopefully you’re not just all talk and no bite.” 

“Oh, don’t you worry about that. I’m plenty of bite.” 

Much to her surprise, Joel smirked, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip. She couldn’t help herself and pressed her thumb against the shiny swell of it. He kissed her thumb then cupped her ass, urging her to lift herself on her knees. Tess did exactly that, hovering in the air as Joel unzipped and pulled himself out of the confinements of his jeans. Some part of her wanted to strip him, see him bare, and connect every scar with the drag of her tongue. However, at this given moment, she felt dazed, as if everything that was happening around her was buried under a sheer patch of smoke. There was a tremor to her thighs. Joel’s hands slowly gripped her thighs, kneading the muscle. 

“You sure ‘bout this?” he groaned, the slick sound of him fucking his fist deafening. She clenched around nothing, arousal dripping down the inside of her thighs. 

“Yeah,” Tess gasped.“I want this.” 

She took him inch by inch, a hint of plain blossoming between her legs as Joel stretched her wide. Tess didn’t remember the last time she had sex. She forgot about the importance of preparation. The thoughts of want and need were too consuming. Besides, it wasn’t important. Tess knew that the pain would soon turn into something pleasurable. Her walls fluttered and squeezes around him, trying to adjust to his size. Her nostrils flared and Joel pressed his lips into her chest, peppering the delicate skin. 

When she was fully seated, he dragged his palms across her back and then slid his hands to the front of her body. He squeezed her breasts and brushed his thumbs over her nipples. Every part of it felt incredibly good. Having him buried so deep made her feel alive in a way that she had forgotten. 

“How does it feel?” he asked in a hushed tone, the tip of his nose cold as it brushed against her clavicle. His thumb dug into her hip bone. 

“Shit, Joel. You’re seriously packing, I never would’ve thought,” a puff of laughter parted her lips. “But to answer your question—yeah, it feels fucking good.” 

Joel groaned, flexing his cock. Tess shuddered, a gush of arousal wetting them both. One hand slid up to rest between her shoulder blades while the other followed the curve of her behind. “Tell me if. . .” he swallowed. “Tell me if anythin’ feels not-good, a’right?” 

His voice was soft, the way he spoke slow. And he was so incredibly awkward. It was endearing. Her nails bit into his broad shoulders, her body relaxing in a way it hadn’t ever since the infection spread. 

“Alright.” 

The rain grew louder, drowning out their moans.

Pleasure rolled over her again and again. Like everything, they connected in this aspect of their lives as well. Their bodies were in complete harmony and in constant movement. Tess would push herself up with the guidance of his arms and Joel would snap into her. The pacing of his hips was hard and fast, with every stroke Tess could feel her lungs emptying and burning. The fabric of his jeans scraped against the delicate skin of the back of her thighs. 

Joel’s rage seeped into her with every thrust, she could feel it. The grief, the pain, the betrayal. She allowed him to use her. The relief wouldn’t last but it was better than nothing—and it also allowed her a moment of a blank slate that made her see stars. His movement became rough, his feet planted against the hardwood floors, he fucked her nice and deep. Just like she wanted. Tess could think of nothing else. Only the way his big cock split her into two and how she wanted this to be the only thing she felt until she died. 

Her orgasm shattered through her, black dots hovering across her vision, she pulled Joel close. He happily buried his face into her, facial hair tickling her skin, his velvet tongue poking out between his lips to taste the salt. She shivered, her entire body contorting with the strangle of pleasure. Briefly, she couldn’t breathe. Everything felt too much, too sudden. Joel pushed her down, burying himself deeper as he slightly raised his hips off the couch to fill her more, if possible. He groaned at the way her walls fluttered, how it threatened to squeeze him dry. His hand slid back to the back of her neck and harshly forced her to lean in for a searing kiss. 

When the tremors of her body subsided, Joel pulled out. His cock jutted dark between his legs and leaked for her. She felt him against her stomach, wet and warm, as he jerked himself with sloppy, urgent strokes. He inhaled a sharp breath. Hissed between clenched teeth when he came, hot ropes of come splashing over the soft swell of her stomach. A shudder crawled down her spine, a whimper parting her lips. 

Joel took deep breaths of her scent, groaned into her. His cock continued to throb against his palm, the tremors of his orgasm still raking across his body. Every muscle clenched and taut by the force of it. 

“Fuck,” Tess huffed, loudly. Her lips moved over Joel’s forehead, the tension that drew lines into his face momentarily gone. “You were right, you definitely have a bite, Miller.” 

“Fuckin’ told you.” 

Tess couldn’t see his face but she knew he was smiling. 

Joel saw red. 

His fists ached, his breathing was uneven, shudders rolling throughout his body over and over again. Blood dripped to the floors of their shared apartment. His knuckles were split and when his gaze dropped to his hands, he moved them, hissing at the blossoming pain. Tess wearily sat on the dusty couch, her body looking like a ragdoll.  The jacket Tommy had gifted her all those months ago was tattered and she had a swollen lip. 

Joel saw read when he saw Tess laying on the cold concrete, a group of men huddled around her, kicking her to the curb. 

He didn’t even remember pulling out his knife. Didn’t remember pulling out his gun. It was late. He’s gone out to look after her when she didn’t return when she said she would. It was supposed to be as simple drop-off, which is why Tess had insisted Joel stay behind. Looking over her, Joel promised himself to never stay behind again. He fucking knew something would go wrong and he was right. 

He was so tired of always being fuckin’ right. 

Joel wasn’t sure how much of it Tess saw or heard. He killed them all and didn’t stop when they dropped down one by one, rage blinded him, consumed him. The wretched feeling only disappeared when he heard Tess groan, a faint whisper of his name following. He dropped the man he held by the collar—maybe calling him corpse would be more fitting than man? Joel was fairly certain he was already dead— he scooped Tess up from the ground and carried her to their shared apartment, carefully so that FEDRA wouldn’t spot them. 

Somewhere between the months, Tess moved in—though could it really be called moving in when you owned nothing? 

“Well, I feel like shit,” Tess groaned, her voice hoarse and scratchy. She could barely open her eyes. She held her head, wincing at the pain. “Those little shits didn’t want to pay up. Fuckin’ new meat is always the worse.” 

“Forget about that now,” Joel answered. He moved closer, the chair scraping along the floors. He had a bit of antiseptic left, the last of their batch, and poured some over a dirty cloth. “This is gonna sting.” 

“Just get it over with.” 

She didn’t say much after that but Joel could tell that it did, in fact, sting. He wiped away the blood from her face, gently cupping her bruised jaw. When he was satisfied he’s clean every wound, he threw the cloth stained with red to the floor and brushed a strand of dirty hair behind her ear. Tess leaned into the touch. It was subtle, but when Joel felt it he allowed his hand to linger. 

“We should get you washed up,” he muttered. 

Tess snorted and shook her head, “Are you kidding me? The water is freezing cold. There’s no way in hell I’m gonna take a shower at this hour.” when Joel raised both brows she added. “I slept dirtier.” 

“I’ll join you,” he said, running his hand up her thigh. He swallowed, it was true Tess slept dirtier, but he didn’t think he could handle seeing her like that any more than he had to. And the scent of blood was making his stomach churn. “Please.” 

Tess observed him for a moment. She often did this whenever Joel uttered the word ‘please’. It wasn’t something that he often said, which he did on purpose so the word could carry some weight. It became like a code among them, making the other realize that the other was serious about what they needed. 

She sighed, “Fine. Be grateful you’re basically a radiator with legs.” 

Joel didn’t have it in himself to smile at the playful quip. 

He carefully led Tess to the bathroom, supporting her as they entered the small, dimly lit space. They stripped each other slowly. She unbuttoned his plaid shirt as he pushed her ripped jacket off of her shoulders. Between every article of clothing that was removed, they pressed their lips over every newly exposed skin. 

Tess stood under the water, her bruised and battered body tense with pain. The water cascaded down her, mixing with the dirt and blood that stained her skin. Joel watched her silently with his brows furrowed. That rage was swirling in his stomach once more, and he regretted that he finished them off so quickly. His protectiveness a poison both to him and to those around them. If they lived in the world before, this would have became a problem, but not now. Now people ached to be protected, they ached to be taken care of. No matter how much they refused. 

Joel stepped into the shower behind her, allowing the water to drench them both. His arms encircled her, pulling her close, their bodies pressed together. The shock of the cold water against their skin was momentary as Joel’s body heat was enough to warm her chilled skin. Tess leaned into him, her curves brushing his semi-hard cock. He ignored it. 

Joel’s hands moved with deliberate care, tracing the outline of her body, avoiding the tender spots that were still sore. He focused on each wound, gently cleansing them and removing any debris. Tess winced occasionally but remained silent. The water rinsed away the remnants of their harrowing experience, carrying them down the drain as if washing away the past. Joel knew he would be doing this many times after this, and she would be doing the same for him.

Against the numbing cold, Joel’s fingers carried warmth. She let out a sigh and allowed her head to fall back over his shoulder. They only had water to clean her. No soap. They’d used up their last bar a week before and forgot about replacing it. He cupped her breasts, gently lifting them to allow the water to cleanse everywhere. Tess hissed at the cold, her nipples pebbling. 

Satisfied that she was cleansed of the caked blood, Joel’s hand slid between her legs, middled finger sliding between her tender folds. The digit was suddenly enveloped in a searing heat that made him groan. He dragged his teeth up her neck and tugged her earlobe. 

“My spitfire,” he said, the nickname bleeding over his tongue. Saying it made him feel uneasy, but it was too late now. Tess didn’t answer her other than let out a soft gasp. 

He wanted to say more. And he knew Tess wanted to say more as well. But neither said anything. Unsaid confessions running along their bodies and being drained into the sink just like the water that made them short of breath. He’d hoped what he said was enough to convey. He couldn’t do more than that. Even that was too much to say in a cruel world such as this one. 

He turned off the faucet, and the rush of cold water ceased. He reached for a threadbare towel, enfolding her in its embrace, absorbing the moisture clinging to her skin.

Their eyes met, speaking volumes without the need for words.

Joel lead her to their bed and sprawled her over the sheets, the cold drops seeping into the fabric. He rarely stood naked in the apartment, both of them were careful to keep clothed nearby. But in this situation, when both of them were wet and cold, it seemed dumb to stop and put their clothes back on. Tess spread her legs for him. His cock stood dark between his legs, hunger twisting in his stomach. She had a pretty cunt. The soft curls a shade lighter compared to her hair, he sat on his knees, spread his hand over her sex, felt them underneath his fingers. 

“I don’t want you goin’ on your own anymore,” he stated. “I don’t care how ‘easy’ the job seems. You ain’t goin’ alone, understood?” 

He knew she understood but waited for the nod of her head anyway. And when she did, Joel gripped her thighs and lifted them, allowing her legs to rest upon his shoulders. He dipped in, hungry for a taste. Slowly, he kissed her folds, diving his tongue in between, groaning as she coated his tongue. 

“Shit—Fuck—Joel, that feels so good, god.” 

Feeling her pulse around him oddly enough, made him feel relieved. Joel sucked her clit between his lips and swirled his tongue over the sensitive nub. Tess arched into him, her hands laced in his dripping hair, she pulled him closer. With a groan, he traced the rip of his tongue around her entrance and pushed the soft muscle in. He fucked her with his tongue, licking into her with rapid strokes. His own need ached between his legs, it was easy to ignore when he felt her fluttering around him. Joel parted her with both thumbs and buried himself deeper. Tess cried out his name, the neediness of it making him smile. 

He hummed loudly, the reverberations from the sound made her thighs tighten around the frame of his face. It didn’t take her long to come undone with his mouth. Her back arched, and Joel moaned as her nails bit into his scalp. Her body convulsed and with a moan, she gushed around his tongue, whispering his name over and over as if it was a prayer. 

Joel continued to work his jaw, sloppily dragging his tongue down her soaked folds. He loved these moments. Her body would become loose and pliant, seeing her like that made him feel almost glad. Tess tugged on his hair, prompting him to look up. She smiled down at him and dragged her thumb across his shiny lips. 

“Your turn, Miller.” 

I still can't believe this reached 9k words, it my head it was supposed to be 5k lmaodvf if you reached this far, thank you so much for reading! writing in third person isn't really my strong suit but I hope this was okay!

sending everyone all the love and hugs xx

[epiclamer]

WRITE AIRPLANE WHUMP FOR CATS BIRTHDAY!!!

^^^ this very draft has been sitting in my inbox since before I knew your name. I’ve been waiting a long time my love <3 enjoyyyyy

@save-the-villainous-cat

Plane Crash

When the plane tumbled down, so did Villains whole world. It had started with a bit of turbulence, something the pilot had assured them was just fine and completely normal—much to the villain’s suspicion—but now it had escalated.

The plane’s condition was that of car ride down a rocky mountain. The seatbelt light hadn’t turned off once.

Slowly the flight attendants disappeared behind curtained sections, taking with them any whispers of reassurance.

People left bouncing in their seats and fumbling through the halls as they clasped to anything for dear life. It was starting to seem less and less okay.

Villain’s fear of planes did not help ease their racing mind.

They were going to die here.

“You’re not going to die here. Everybody please remain calm and seated while we head through this turbulent spot.”

If they were being honest, not even the pilot sounded sure of themselves. A slight quiver of panic could be heard through the loudspeakers in the plane.

Fastening their belt tighter around their waist, the villain gripped at the two armrests until their knuckles went white. Still, their attempts could do nothing to stop the clacking of their teeth as the plane swooped down again for a moment, pulling itself back up before the screaming in the seats begun.

But it wouldn’t be long before it was unstoppable.

People were getting nervous. Nervous people in a box trapped in the sky sounded like hell on earth to the criminal. They would even admit to being nervous themselves.

Taking a deep breath, Villain decided to take this moment to distract themselves, eyes scanning through the crowd of people that surrounded them. Maybe someone else had a good strategy for staying collected.

First they noticed a couple of teenagers, too consumed with their tacky movie to notice the bustling around them. Then a mother, clearly pregnant and sweating in gross amounts. An elderly couple, holding hands with their heads leaned back to the sky as if they were praying.

They probably were. It wasn’t a bad idea right now.

However, no matter how many people Villain watched, they couldn’t get their mind off of one.

Hero.

A ridiculous thought to begin with. Villain would’ve slapped themselves in the face if they weren’t fearing for their imminent death.

But it was their only thought.

Their cocky smirk, their laugh, their nonchalantness, their dragging feet, their burden-heavy shoulders, their tired eyes, their slight accent.

Everything.

Including under their suit…

Villain shook their head, trying to clear their thoughts. Having such lustful desires for their nemesis was disgusting.

But hey, they were probably going to die in five minutes so what did it matter?

The villain stopped breathing again, they wanted to pretend like this didn’t affect them one bit. They were never good with pretend. They had always been told they were too logic oriented.

They cursed their luck now. They needed someone, anyone, to be optimistic. Optimistic like their hero.

Fuck, they needed to send a text.

Flipping open their phone in a second, they knew it was no good, their screen lighting up as they clicked on Hero’s number. Fingers ready to write and mind filled with words.

Yet, nothing came out.

What were they even supposed to say? Hello? Goodbye? How are you? Care to plan my funeral?

In this situation what was sociably acceptable to send to your greatest enemy? Anything? Nothing?

They were so frustrated. Why wasn’t this easy? The villain was practically pulling the covers over on their death bed and they didn’t have any final words for their biggest crush?

Stupid, stupid, stupid. This was all stupid.

Their fingers worked without their brain, typing a few words before hitting send and shutting off their phone. The villain slid it back into their pocket as they relaxed as best as they could. Squeezing their eyes closed to best escape their situation.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the storm has past and we are heading for a smooth landing now. Thank you for your cooperation.”

The occupants cheered louder than anything the villain had ever heard before. Causing their own mini turbulence from inside the plane with the ruckus as they screamed and jumped. Hugging and crying and Villain was in the arms of strangers and they didn’t even care.

They were just so relieved.

As the people settled down and the plane came in to land, Villain felt their phone buzz in their pocket. Seeing a new message from Hero as they opened it up just to feel their heart sink.

It was nothing but a simple, “what?”. But Villain would never be able to explain just why they had sent “I love you.”

[mochiwrites]

Guess who's back? Back again? Anons back! Tell a friend.

Lol sorry I'm once again back. The same anon who sent a bunch of questions about night life a while ago since I was rereading songbirds blood au. Soo uhm here's more

1. Mochi why does scar say in villainous thing that he has put his head in a werewolfs mouth??!?!?!?!?!? Scar mah dude u ok???? (Lowkey would wanna try it but I probably would leave the werewolfs mouth with a head 😊)

2. Grian.Trans.Canon? (Or scar? Or maybe both???)

3. With the glyphs is there only one way to use them or could you possible make them a tattoo and still you them. Since they are then constantly touching the glyphs they could possible do the magic of a mage. If they had multiple glyphs he could mix the glyphs somehow.(like how Luz mixes the glyphs by drawing them with eachother but instead they do it with their ✨️MIND✨️)

4. Also I love the idea of papapulse. Like I imagine Pearl or grian (most likely grian:^P) and Impulse going full demon mode tl protect them. (I saw that you tagged "Parent impulseSV (Video Blogging RPF)" in troubke in the dead of night🥺👏😍) Also is there different types of demons and what type of powers do they have?

5. In the fic "sitting in the garden at your feet" they have a whole picnic and all the adorableness. Do they go on more picnics frequently? (I really hope soo) I would guess they do since in villainous things they were also on their way to a picnic...but then yeah...poor birb tbh and poor scar

6. Have Ren and Martyn already have their wedding or are they still waiting? I wanna see treebark and I want to see mumbo ask grian go with him as his plus one to the wedding<3

(Though treebark owns my heart, Grumbo will always win) Don't talk about scarian I've never left the desert and don't plan to either😘

7. Okay soo in the fic "weight of living" there was this one scene where etho stared at grian. Here's the quote: "Etho eyes him for a moment, his gaze unreadable as he does so. It leaves Grian with chills. Weird."

Is it possible that etho is a Watcher? I'm mean   he is definitely not human(or maybe he is an immortal human?)  Etho may recognize grian, either as an old Watcher or a new Watcher to be made. Or maybe etho just thinks it is weird to see scar with grian(A HUMAN) The last one is more logical <:^)

8. On that note with Etho. You never confirm nor deny if grian is the "lost watcher" but what if I were to ask you if EFFO is the lost Watcher. I don't have proof but-...yeah idk

Wait wait just had another thought what if Pearl is the Watcher???? When the dream bugs ate her dreams there was a purple mist! Huh huh gotcha!/silly this is purely a joke🤣

9. Will we see a bad boy grian phase or possibly a drag queen phase🥺👉👈. Since it often mention that grian was a dare devil(still is:^P) or did grian have such phases. One of my friends is kinda a dare devil and he did drag once and I feel since grian might be the same there...

10. What did Scott do with the shard? Did he just entirely get rid of it? Also is Scott pure evil or broken. Maybe with the lost of his brother(Xornoth) did he turn evil or was evil just in his genes?

Those are all the questions and theories for now thank you for listing to my literal brain rot<3

This time it was numbered

(There will possible be more to come>:^] )

YIPPEE WELCOME BACK NONNIE :D

see me rubbing my paws together with a big grin >:3c no apologies needed !!!! I love questions hehe. as always, I can't answer everything clearly, because of spoilers but I'll certainly answer as much as I can!

1- WHEEZE scar just feels like the kinda guy to me to stick his head into the mouth of a werewolf for fun, y'know? he'd try it once just to see what would happen (and I mean, he's got no reason to fear dying, all things considered LOL)

2- GRIAN TRANS CANON !! honestly, just operate under the assumption that any grian I write is trans JFGDHFKKJDFG it's my comfort character and I get to project on him /silly (no trans scar though </3)

3- WAUG OKAY -- I've answered this kind of question before but for the life of me I can't find it D: I'm gonna keep searching for it, and when I find it I'll reblog this with that information mjfdhkfghfjg I don't wanna contradict myself LMAO

4- PAPAPULSE MY BELOVED 🥺I really wanna write more with him ueueue. I actually haven't done much world building for sb!demons but I'm going to say that yes, there are different types of demons! and they all have a wide range of different abilities :3

5- they def go on picnics yeah!!! I think it becomes one of grian's default methods to drag mumbo out of the manor when he can <33

6- ren and martyn haven't had their wedding yet :3 I actually hadn't thought about when their wedding would take place but ;w; oh that gives me some ideas....

7- etho isn't a watcher! the current lore is well. no one really knows what etho is. except maybe bdubs and joel. but their lips are Sealed (he's not the lost watcher either I'm afraid </3)

9- so currently I don't have any plans for a bad boy or drag queen phase to pop up in the story (though that could change, if any ideas come up) but they were certainly things he did when he was wayyy younger

10- what scott did with the shard hm? he broke it :) and I'm afraid evil is just in his genes unfortunately </3

hehe thank you for your questions!! :D

[embersofhope-if]

Okay i wrote this a while ago bc somebody requested it but now i can't find the ask💔

anyways heres a drabble of the fight Mc and Aurel got into when they were sixteen

tw for fighting, dissociation, strangulation, and theres a needle used at the end but its not explicitly stated

wordcount: 1.9k

The rain pours down onto me as I stand waiting. What I'm waiting for, I'm not entirely sure. All I know is that I need to stand here and wait until whatever is supposed to happen happens. I see the blurred figures of both children and teachers leaving the school to go start their afternoon shifts in the factories. Even if I can’t clearly see their faces, I can feel their glares, anger, and hatred hot on my skin. It’s the only thing I can feel at the moment. It’s honestly about the only thing I’ve been able to feel since the games ended. I can’t bring myself to think too deeply about what happened, or I might start drowning in every emotion imaginable, again.

I can’t let that happen. They’ll put me on so many pills I won’t be able to tell which way is up.

So, I continue to stand, waiting in the rain, having only the heat of glares keeping me warm. A bolt of lightning hits the building across the street, followed by a loud crack of thunder. The jolt of fear suddenly clears my mind of the fog that it’s been trapped in, and I realize why I’m here.

Ash

Every day without fail, Ash and I would meet up here after school. Whether we would just talk for a couple of minutes before their shift at the factory or I was walking them home, we always met up here.

All at once, everything that I haven’t been able to feel hits me so hard I almost fall over. Every feeling forms into a single thought.

I’ve got to get out of here now.

I run, fleeing from the courtyard and everything that’s happened there. That courtyard is nothing but a painful reminder that Ash is gone, and there is nothing I can do to bring them back. With the fog lifted from my brain, I can now fully feel the pain of what's happened. My heart aches as if the games happened just yesterday, and it has left my feet unsteady as I continue to run. I have no idea where I'm running to, probably somewhere equally as painful, but as long as I’m moving away from here, I don’t really care.

I shove past several people, barely hearing their angry shouts of protest, and force my way through a set of doors. I have no idea where I am or where to go. I recognize the room, but my mind refuses to focus enough to remember the name. All I can think about is how much my chest aches and how cold my hands are. My skin feels so cold it's like I’ve never felt the Sun.

I force myself to sit down before I collapse onto the floor, trying not to make any more of a scene than I already have. Exhaustion begins to replace whatever panic is left in my body.

I need to stand up. Make my way home before someone tells Father that I’ve had some type of breakdown. Explain to him that this is nothing like that.

But it is exactly like that, isn’t it? I’m not entirely sure what counts as a breakdown, but sprinting through school grounds shoving anyone out of my way in a blind panic probably counts at least as the start of one. The worry of what Father is going to do when he finds out isn’t enough to motivate my body to move again. I’m so exhausted that all I can bring myself to do is sit here and breathe.

I’m not entirely sure how long I’ve been here, but it’s long enough for me to finally realize where I’m at, the community cafeteria. I’m just thankful I didn’t barge my way into some teacher’s classroom, which means the chances of someone noticing me are significantly lower. I still haven’t been able to bring myself to stand, but I have noticed other people moving about and taking seats. These must be late-day shift workers. That means it's almost seven o’clock, and I’m supposed to be at dinner in thirty minutes. This realization finally manages to get my limbs moving again.

I’ve got to get across the city in the middle of a shift change in less than thirty minutes and then pretend that I’ve spent the last three hours in my room instead of out here trying not to lose my mind. This is going to be near impossible

I quickly stand, trying to come up with something to say to my family whenever I get back home.

Maybe I can say I went on a walk or Hope went missing and I went looking for him. Who am I kidding? Mother wouldn’t believe that for a second, and if she did, Calliope wouldn’t, and she’d have no problem with immediately calling me out on the lie.

No matter what I come up with, every excuse is worse than the last. Ultimately, I decided to just get back as fast as I could and wing it from there.

Once again, I begin shoving my way through groups of people not really caring for the looks they throw my way. I’m stopped whenever a hand grabs my collar and pulls, hard. The motion forces me to turn around, and I come face to face with Aurel Weaver. The anger in their eyes does nothing but confuse me.

I hardly know Aurel. I can’t even remember the last time I spoke to them. What could I have possibly done to make them so angry?

For a minute, we both just stare at each other, waiting for the other to speak. I take the moment to properly look at them. After the games ended, shifts at the factories began to ramp up, and Aurel ended up dropping out of school to keep up with the work they were assigned. I haven’t really seen them since then, but I can tell the work is taking a toll on them, changing them. They look about as exhausted as I feel. Their skin pale, and the bags under their eyes are worse than I've ever seen them before. But the biggest change I can see is in their eyes; beautiful hazel eyes drowning in nothing but fury and hatred, and it's all directed at me. A sharp pang runs through my chest. I may not have been best friends with Aurel, but I still considered them at the very least a friendly acquaintance. I force myself to ignore the hurt and very suddenly realize that I’ve been staring for too long and I can't afford to waste what little time I have to get home. “Sorry Aurel, I didn’t mean to run into you,” I say quickly, going to turn to leave.

I take a step away until I, once again, feel a hand grab me. Only this time, the hand is wrapped around both my collar and the chain hanging around my neck. They’re saying something to me, but all I can focus on is the chain in their hand and the fact that if they pull it’ll snap. I take a breath slightly, turning my head, forcing myself to listen to what they’re saying.

“It’s rude to not answer my questions, you know?” Aurel growls, and I can feel them getting ready to yank me back. Instead of responding, I try to move out of their grip. At the same time, they decide to pull, and I feel the chain snap.

The pendant slides down my shirt, and I watch it fall to the ground. The last precious gift that I will ever get from Ash now lays on the ground broken like it was nothing. I barely feel Aurel's presence anymore. All I can stare at is the pieces.

They grab my shoulder, tired of me apparently ignoring them, and force me to look at them. Suddenly, the nothingness I felt while looking at the broken pendant is replaced with an all-consuming rage at the sight of them standing, acting like I owe them any type of response. I glance around and notice a glass cup sitting on the table next to us.

Without a second of delay, I grab it and smash it against the side of their head. Before they manage to recover any semblance of balance, I lunge at them and knock them to the ground. One. Two. Three. I get three punches in before they get me off them. They pin me down with one hand around my throat and use the other to try and hold my hands down. I can feel their right hand around my throat, squeezing hard while I kick and scratch at them. As my vision starts to fill with black spots, I freeze and begin to realize that Aurel might just be trying to kill me.

I’m going to die on the dirty floor of the community cafeteria, and it’s nobody’s fault but mine. Broken and nothing on the ground, just like the necklace lying next to me.

I feel Aurel's grip on me loosens, and I know this is my chance to get them off me. I kick them in the side and manage to get out from under them. I throw a punch to the side of their head that knocks them into a leg of the table, hard. Disoriented and off balance, Aurel doesn’t even notice that I’m in front of them until I pin them down and begin to hit them over and over. I lose track of how many times I hit them; all I know is that they’re not fighting back anymore. I don’t stop. I can’t stop. Every emotion I’ve been trying not to feel comes out in every swing. I know I’m crying, but I can’t bring myself to care. I should be ashamed for doing this for letting my anger take control, but I’m not.

There’s a crowd around us now. I can’t hear them, but I can see them; with the show me and Aurel have been putting on, it was bound to catch some attention. If there’s a crowd, then that means there must be peacekeepers on the way. I don’t care. They can drag me away and lock me up forever, and I won’t care. I feel hands trying to pull me off Aurel, but I don’t let them.

They hurt me. Why shouldn’t I hurt them? I want to hurt them. I want to hurt all of them. Everyone in the districts and Capitol. I want to hurt them all.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice white uniforms surrounding me, and they begin grabbing me. They’re a lot better at getting me off Aurel than whoever was trying before. As I’m being pulled away, I notice the pendant still lying on the ground, a forget-me-not shattered into pieces.

Ash would hate me right now.

That thought takes any fight I had left, and I sag in the peacekeeper's arms. The last thing I see is my Father walking towards me as I feel a sharp prick on the back of my neck and fade into darkness.

[crazylittlejester]

DAILY BRAINROT

Today I biked the whole way from my apartment to Walmart, and somehow it left me in significantly more pain than walking does. I also learned that it's really easy to lose things from bike baskets and ended up making it the whole way to my kitchen before I realized that the bottle of lime juice I bought ended up in the parking lot.

0/10 experience, would not recommend.

I still hold fast to the idea that Academia AU Hyrule bikes a lot of places, though because he's just Built Different. I haven't played his games yet because I want to do LoZ before AoL and I haven't figured out how to set it up on my phone yet, but it fits.

If I remember correctly, he's only ever described as being a traveler, and since he doesn't have any form of transportation other than walking, I think it's safe to say he's either an average citizen or on the poor side. (I also just love the idea of poor college student Hyrule in modern AUs. It's a whole vibe.)

And can you imagine this guy driving a car? I feel like he's got his driver's license for legal identification purposes and so that he can say he can drive, he just doesn't like doing it. (Him and Spirit bond over their dislike of car-based infrastructure.) He can and will drive Twilight's rusty old pickup truck in emergencies, though.

Public transportation like the bus is also something I can see him using, especially if he can't use his bike at the moment, but the bus system is something a person can easily get lost in. I once ended up at the wrong terminal for an hour because I got on a bus going in the opposite direction I was trying to go.

Anyway, I am captivated by the idea of giving him a mountain bike that's in the classic green and brown Link color palette. It's clearly old and loved, and Four's had to help take it apart and put it back together at least once now, but it's never broken beyond repair, and it's always gotten him where he wants to go. (Eventually.) It probably also has one or two modifications so he can carry stuff on it without losing things in the parking lot like me.

I also had some thoughts about EoW again, but I lost them because my brain is just full of bikes...

😭 god damn dude im so sorry

im love the idea of Hyrule having a license just for legal purposes or whatever and then just NEVER driving ever. He walks or bikes everywhere he likes exploring alskdkdkd

to be so fr i cant do buses unless its LATE at night. its just too many people for me to handle and its a lot of information all at once and i get very lost 😔 i also live in an area where you HAVE to drive everywhere because everything is so far away. there are buses and shit in the city and around my college campus but people mainly drive or (if they’re feeling a bit crazy) bike

YES. YES YES YES I LOVE IT OH MY GOD.

got bikes on the brain 😔 algskgsks

[randomthingsicameupwith]

yandere kenny mccormick x reader

till death do us part (part 1) (part 2) (sorry if my english is bad :( )

DISCLAIMER: YANDERES AND STALKERS ARE BAD AND I DO NOT CONDONE THEM IRL!! 

As the bell rang, you strolled over to your locker. As you unlock it, a bunch of girls pass by, snickering at you. "Poor Kenny, having to deal with a girl like her." "She probably pays him to be with her!" The rest laughed, cackling loudly like an alarm that keeps going again and again. Kenny McCormick has been your best friend since you two were practically babies. You and he have been attached at the hip, and no one has been able to separate you since then.

Literally no one. You barely had any other friends than him; everyone you talked to went away, and attempts at talking to people other than Kenny were futile. And people who luckily didn't go away barely talk to you. As you two grew up and reached high school, everything went to hell. People you knew in South Park became mean, and rude, and targeted you for your loneliness and the fact you stuck to Kenny like a parasite. Honestly, you didn’t blame them for bullying you.

He was nice; he barely caused any trouble, and if he did, everyone would be on his side. Charming too, getting every girl he wanted, most likely having sex 24/7, and getting every guy to be friends with him. Strong, smart, and sweet. And you? Just some average lonely bullied teen. You were the opposite. Awkward and shy, with no idea how to talk to people without stuttering or tripping over your own words. There were times when you wished that Kenny could be more like you. Wished that he was the one getting bullied instead of you. But despite all of this, Kenny never left your side. He was there for every tear that fell from your eyes when someone called you names or made fun of your appearance. He stood up for you when no one else would, even if it meant taking a punch or two in the face. But of course, nobody would punch Kenny McCormick. You never knew why he would hang out with someone like you. No one hangs out with you. 

Except for one guy.

Your boyfriend, Mark Swanson, In your opinion, was far superior to Kenny. Even though everyone else would choose Kenny in a heartbeat, he was the sweetest boy ever and had the cutest smile you’d ever seen. And he never made you feel bad. So obviously, you hung out with Mark more often than you usually do with Kenny. Which made him pissed off, but you didn’t care. You wanted to be with someone other than him for once in your life. 

Mark came to you. Leaning against the other lockers. "Hello princess," Mark said in a suave voice; your face turned red like a tomato. Unlocking your locker, you saw a pink letter slip out. 'My sweetheart, y/n,' written in red pen

The handwriting looked oddly familiar, but you couldn't rack your brain on who it was. Turning to Mark, he had a confused expression on his face. "My sweetheart, y/n." he said mockingly. Clearly indicating it’s not him who wrote it. You picked it up quickly, looking behind you. I'm hoping this wasn’t some sort of prank orchestrated by those girls. Catching a glance at Kenny, who walked by. Weird, you thought. Kenny usually doesn’t come to this hall around this time. Closing your locker, you carefully open the letter. Mark moving closer to see better. Rolling his eyes. The paper was pink too and also written in red pen.

‘My lovely y/n,

I love you always

I’ve never known how to tell you this. Every time I try. I shriek in fear.’

“Real pussy he is.” Mark snorted. You laugh in response, nudging his side.

‘My heart beats for you and only you.

Your beauty, your laugh, your everything,

I get entranced, I’m always in awe of you.

Your smile is like a sunbeam on a cloudy day.

You take the darkest of clouds and push them away with joy and warmth.

As cheesy as this sounds. This is all true. I know what your thinking. This is some kind of prank, isn’t it? No, it’s not.

I'll do anything to be with you,

To hold you in my embrace. My love for you is all-consuming,

It consumes me, with every trace.

And I wish your boyfriend gets wiped off the human race.

Love, Your Admirer.

(PS. I could treat you way better.)’

“What a real dickwad he is,” Mark said, rolling his eyes. You giggled. “I bet he can’t treat me better than you can darling.” arms wrapped around Mark’s neck, you gave him a kiss on the cheeks. “Definitely,” he replied, hugging you. “Also, I can't hang out with you for lunch. Promised Kenny I would sit with him this time,”  you said in a sad tone. “Awh, it’s alright princess. Speaking of Kenny, this looks a lot like his handwriting, doesn’t it?” he said. You thought of it, it does look like his handwriting. But, Kenny could never. He had thousands of girls, why would he write this to you? “Yeah..” you muttered.  “Anyways, gotta go. Bye princess.” ripping out of your hug. As he walks away. You walked over to your next class.

As you walked to class, the words of the letter echoed in your mind. The writer's words were full of passion and a hint of desperation, which left you feeling uneasy. You couldn't help but wonder who this secret admirer could be and why they had such strong feelings for you.

Not to mention, as Mark pointed out, the handwriting did resemble Kenny's - a thought that made you confused. Your mind raced with different scenarios, trying to make sense of what was happening.

However, amidst all the confusion and anxiety, one thing was certain - the letter made you feel special in some way. It felt like someone saw through your soul and appreciated who you were on a deep level. Except for that last part of course! A part of you wished it wasn't just an anonymous confession but someone who would come forward and reveal their identity.

The whole time, the only thing you were focused on was that love letter. As time passed, the class finally ended. You couldn't stop thinking about the letter and who could have possibly written it. As the class ended, Kenny showed up in front of the class waiting for you with his sweet, white toothpaste ad smile. “Hey y/n!” As you and Kenny made your way to the cafeteria for lunch. Whatever he said went through your ear and out. You kept analysing every detail of the letter in your head. Could it really have been Kenny? You couldn't seem to shake off the feeling of confusion and discomfort that had taken over you. The words from the letter echoed in your mind, hitting you harder with every repetition. You tried to push it aside and focus on Kenny's presence beside you, but it wasn't working. It was as if a storm was brewing inside you, waiting for just the right moment to burst out.

As you walked towards an empty table at the corner of the cafeteria, thoughts of who could have written that letter continued flooding your mind like water overflowing from a dam. You didn’t even notice how silent you were.  "y/n? Did you hear me? You've been… awfully silent… " He asked earnestly. The thought crossed your mind - should I tell him? 

You tried weighing out the pros and cons. What's the harm in telling him?

(kenny’s pov)

You got it. I waited years to get the courage to write that love letter. You're rambling on and on about how you're worried if it’s a prank or not when I wrote that it wasn’t a prank. You keep going on about it and I’m just hoping you don’t notice my handwriting and imagining you sucking my dick. But sadly, your boyfriend probably noticed my handwriting. Stupid Mark and his fucking stupid everything. Jesus Christ, who knew it would be this hard.

“Any idea who it might be?” I asked, curiosity laced over my tone when really I already know who it is. “Mm, nope.” you said, not maintaining eye contact at all. I know when you're lying or not. I wanted to just tell you that it was me. But, I can’t risk telling you now, not with Mark in the picture. Fucking Mark has just always been in the way of us and I can’t goddamn stand it. I keep trying to scare him off and threaten him. But it never works. What does he even want from you? What does he have that I don't? It makes my skin crawl just thinking about it.

I ask you again, “Really? Come on y/n, I know your confidence isn’t high but it can’t be that fucking low.” you nod, I can see your boobs bounce slightly. You definitely wanted me to notice them, but I’m not complaining. “Can I hangout at your house today? Karen’s having a sleepover with her friends and Kevin’s also at a friend’s house and my parents are at some guy's house.” I asked, we haven’t been hanging out lately and it’s really been annoying me to the brim. 

y/n’s pov

With a sigh, you nod in agreement. You didn’t want to hang out with him. You just wanted to sit at home and sulk about that stupid love letter. Despite the awkwardness that had just arisen with the love letter topic. You notice how he smiles from ear to ear at your acceptance, his eyes sparkling with excitement. This is just sad, you thought. You're just going to act emo and mute while he’s beaming with joy just to hang out with you. “Yes! Woohoo!” Kenny says and you can feel almost all the girls glaring at you with intentions to murder you.

“But,” you say, Kenny had a quizzical expression on his face as he tilted his head in confusion. You couldn't help but feel a tinge of regret for agreeing . “I don’t know if my parents will give you permission to stay.” he looks at you dumbfounded, and scoffs, “come on, of course they will. They love me more than your siblings, you know?” internally, you're scolding yourself. You could've said no, but it’s too late to back out. Feeling dejected by his response, you said meekly, "Whatever you say." 

[nottoofondofgaypeople]

In Regards to Gene

Content warning: abuse, r-pe, and light discussions of World of Warcraft

In a previous post that I have since taken down, I discussed the idea of the Shadow Knight Polycule and their victims in Laurance and Vylad. And in this discussion I really got away from myself and wrote some stuff that seemed... well not great at the time, but fitting for the characters and the story I wanted to tell. This reading wasn't very kind to Gene, but I've never been kind to Gene. I've been treating Gene like a punching bag since I first had to suffer through Phoenix Drop High Season 1, and it only worsened when I had to suffer through Lovers Lane.

As a result I hadn't thought about MCD Gene in a more sympathetic light until after that post went up. It was after that post went up that I started doing more ruminating on the Nether, The Shadow King, and the absolute horror of a Shadow Knights existence. It was after this ruminating that I realized that what happened with Gene was that I was treating him well...

Like Arthas Menethil. For a bit of context for those of you who haven't lost brain cells over World Of Warcraft, Arthas is basically the biggest evilest villain in WoW, but he's a villain the player can see the entire rise and fall of. The first campaign puts you in his shoes as a young paladin, and you watch as he constantly makes the worst, most violent, most evil choices through the entire campaign. Arthas is just an absolute and unapologetic monster who creates so many victims through his entire miserable existence that he keeps mementos of them.

And a lot of WoW fans try to characterize Arthas' story as a hero's fall thing? Like he was a good person who was corrupted by bad forces, even though you're shown him being a vile evil person before Frostmourne and the Lich King start fucking with him. Arthas was just a monster looking for an excuse. And I think I let that color my perception of Gene because he really is similar to Arthas in a lot of ways. He's pretty evil, manipulates people like nobody's business, uses magic to do so a lot, has a tense bitter relationship with an old companion, harasses one particular woman with white hair and an association to the color purple a lot, and the actual text of MCD never encourages the viewer to take a sympathetic look towards him, just like WoW.

As a result, I wrote him a lot like Arhtas, which in hindsight, might have been too harsh. Gene does have some redeeming qualities, and honestly with enough work he could possibly have been redeemed at some point. The tragedy of Gene in my rewrite is that said point in time has long past. Anyone foolish enough to try doing so now won't succeed.

Gene was not a good person before the Shadow King found him. A person worth understanding? Yes. A person with a chance of redemption? Maybe, depends on how Dante feels. A person who was also a victim of the Shadow King? Yes.

And that's where I changed my tune on Gene. While I hold the belief that Gene was far from perfect before he got turned, he still had a chance to be a good person before said turning. And the process of being broken down from the person he was into essentially an extension of the Shadow King was not kind to the remnants of a good person left in Gene. So, I want to be a little kinder to Gene.

Cutting the idea of him using Laurance I think it happened exactly once, and the context of it changes the scene from being outright r-pe into a dub-con territory. My previous characterization was dangerously close to the territory of "abuse victim becomes abuser", which I never want people to take from my work. I think that whole thing happened partially out of Gene's control and was really one of the moments that made him doubt what he was doing. These doubts are really too little too late though.

The degrading of Gene's relationship isn't entirely his fault either. While he still clearly loves Sasha and Zenix, the Shadow King calls on him more and more, pulling him away from them. And when the Shadow King breaks Zenix it only gets worse. Gene and Zenix are pitted against each other because the Shadow King realized they were both having silly little thoughts about free will and would turn against him. This polycule was never going to last because if the three of them got along and were normal and without the Shadow Kings influence for like two days they would have started a rebellion before Laurance ever even entered the Nether.

I think Gene struggles to show affection while around others. If Sasha or Zenix flirts with him around other shadow knights, he gets really tense and uneasy about it. But the minute they're alone it's endless kisses and apologies and reassurances. Despite having a skewed understanding of love, Gene is very good at showing it. Gene feels like someone who loves in an overwhelming sense, you feel like you're drowning in his love, for better or for worse.

Gene is not going to get redeemed in my rewrite. But he will be humanized. People will try to call him a violent thoughtless monster, and Sasha will gladly assure them that he is a violent calculated monster with thoughts and emotions that's being tormented by the voices of the departed. Gene will never be seen as a hero by his family, but he will likely never know if he has a family to begin with. Gene is a character who deserves better, but has lost every chance at it he possibly could have had.

[aerkame]

HTTYD Concept II

Mm, I really liked my last post and my brain is still thinking (it never stops-). So, I'm just gonna continue writing about this concept that brain keeps adding onto. I was thinking of maybe making this long fic for it though I'm not sure people would read it since it doesn't take place in the usual timeline in HTTYD (so no Hiccup, the riders, the hunters, Dagur, Heather, etc, though I COULD have them referenced). BUT, I do want to write it with my own original characters. Maybe one of the hunters that runs the whole thing is a descendant of one of the most well known hunters of the series like Viggo, Ryker, Grimmel, or Drago. Or it could be every hunter honestly. I kinda like the idea that every single hunter in that organization is some descendant of a dragon hunter or from a bloodline of vikings that hated dragons throughout history. It's like a tradition for them that they take up. Some kill the dragons they catch, some keep them as pets (surprisingly, though they most likely will never be free again), and some train them to benefit better hunts or just to fight for entertainment (EX: Training dragons to fight other dragons). No matter the reasoning though, it seems like these hunters are picking up where their ancestor's left.

Since this is a fic as an idea right now, I'm thinking of making it an x reader for multiple characters or just picking one and making it an enemies to lovers thing because I am a sucker for enemies to lovers fics. It could be like a hunter x reader that's just trying to do the right thing and keep as many dragons safe as possible (accidentally pulling a Hiccup move) after finding out about them and growing to admire that they even exist. I mean, how would YOU react to finding out dragons are real? My heart would freaking stop and I'd faint from the overwhelming emotions, my goodness they better be safe and alive in that case-

Anyways, I could just imagine the absolute trouble reader could get into by meddling in things the reader shouldn't be getting into. The question is...how far are these modern hunters willing to go? Murder is illegal, so these guys probably have the money, numbers, organization, and the political power to just get away with whatever they want, a scary thought indeed. And to make it worse, the reader isn't Hiccup, they don't have a dragon at their side to help if things go wrong. Though, that doesn't mean a dragon might not be smart enough to realize that a human is helping them. Some dragons are clearly intelligent enough to understand that as seen in the movies and shows so it isn't entirely impossible that the reader could get some backup from a wild dragon or two if they play their cards right.

The only problem left would be keeping their identity and personal life safe. They'd have to deal with a lot on their plate, dealing with something they don't really understand and the reader may end up dead if they aren't careful. But whose to say if the reader even goes through the idea of saving as many dragons as possible? The reader is only one person, but maybe, just maybe, saving at least one or a few dragons and allowing them to stay at the reader's house is enough...plus they could finally put that empty field to use and get a stable built (one that can hopefully withstand the weight of a few dragons). But that would only lead to more trouble wouldn't it? In the modern day, I don't think dragon hunters would let one dragon go. Not a single one.

Maybe the reader took an extremely important egg or dragon species that they want back, maybe the reader has embarrassed their leader or co-leader greatly and he wants revenge, or maybe both? Whatever the reason is, they're coming once they figure things out.