#good ending: they trap it in a cup and they carry it outside

[kaibacorpintern]

mokuba: there's a spider in my shower.

mokuba: i should ask niisama to kill it. he promised to protect me. he told me he was my father now. i can't hold him to that, he was ten. he's failed in so many ways, and he's succeeded in so many others. and we're happy now. we're safe. we have everything we need. there are kaibalands all over the world. still, i need him to prove he's looking out for me. if only to know if he's changed. but maybe i should just kill it myself. he worries so much. if he thinks i don't even have the guts to kill a spider, how will he ever trust me to strike out on my own? could i ever leave him anyway? should i? will we ever feel safe enough to leave each other? i don't want to leave him. he's my brother. he's the only person i love. i wish i had more friends, like real friends, like whatever yuugi and his little geeks have. they're so lame. but they stick up for each other. they're nice because they want to be. i don't really get it, honestly. do yuugi and his friends kill spiders for each other? isn't that what we all want - to cry for help, and hear someone answer us? sometimes seto couldn't answer me. sometimes he refused. it's not his fault. it's never been his fault. but he hates it when i say that. he's doing better. he really is. do i really need him to prove it? it's not even a big spider. i can squish it myself. i'm not even that scared. i'm not a little kid. i'm the fucking vice president of kaiba corporation, for fuck's sake.

mokuba:

mokuba, at the top of his lungs: NIISAMA? CAN YOU KILL THE SPIDER IN MY SHOWER?

seto: yeah where is it

spider:

seto, internally: is base violence the only proof of love i can give my brother? is that what he wants from me?! we're more poisoned than i thought! the spider isn't doing anything to hurt us. it's just sitting there! struggling to survive, like all of us are! but gozaburo would tell me strength is th -

with thanks to @danieco

[mj-iza-writer]

Whumpee obediently sat off to the side of Whumper's feet while Whumper flipped through the TV channels.

"Nothing on TV today", Whumper sighed and glanced at Whumpee, "pet?"

Whumpee hurried to their knees and crawled to Whumper. They then laid their head on Whumper's lap to wait for head pats or a command.

Whumper squeezed Whumpee's cheeks lovingly, "I am so bored, you got anything to entertain me, I don't care what."

Whumpee thought for a minute and had a thought. Would it be too much they questioned. 'I can test it', Whumpee thought to themself.

They crawled toward the coffee table and eyed a cup of water Whumper was sipping on. They eyed Whumper, who was watching them curiously. They raised a shaky hand towards it.

"No bad pet", Whumper stated, but still with a smile, "no making messes."

Whumpee laid their head on the coffee table and tried their best to make puppy dog eyes. They mustered a whine.

"Thanks for trying", Whumper smiled, "do you need to go outside?"

Whumpee jumped back and crawled towards the door excitedly; ready to go relieve themself. Whumper didn't pick up on their signs earlier.... they had to go bad now.

Whumper scrolled on their phone while Whumpee wandered around the yard.

"Hmm, things every pet should know how to do", Whumper spoke to themself as they started to read a post, "maybe we can work on a new trick."

"Muzzle training", Whumper snickered to themself. They had tried to do muzzle training a few months ago, but Whumpee had no interest at all. It ended in a horrible mess, and Whumper swore never again.

Whumper looked up at Whumpee for a few moments.

"I would like to have them muzzle trained, just to say they were. I would never cover their cute face", Whumper smiled.

"Use peanut butter or whip cream...", Whumper began to read.

Whumper dug through their closet until they found Whumpee's muzzle.

They tried it on themself first.

"Yep, that should still fit comfortably", Whumper smiled.

Whumpee was playing with a toy in the living room when Whumper came in carrying the muzzle, a training clicker, and a whipped cream can.

Whumpee nervously backed away until they bumped into the wall.

"Whumpee come", Whumper sat on the ground, "come on", they sounded cheerful.

Whumpee continued to stare at Whumper nervously. They tried to back even farther into the wall. There was no other exit, Whumper had trapped them. The only way out was trying to run past them or if the wall would move.

"Whumpee, come here", Whumper said a little sterner.

Whumpee shuddered at the stern voice and slowly started to crawl toward Whumper.

"You know better than to disobey", Whumper scolded, "are you a good Whumpee or not?"

"Good Whumpee", Whumpee whispered.

"Then prove it", Whumper held up the muzzle, "I would like you to be trained with this. It's not something permanent, I just want you to be able to do it."

Whumpee looked at the muzzle questioningly.

"I just washed it as well", Whumper patted Whumpee's head, "you'll be alright. I promise I won't let anything hurt you."

Whumpee whined lowly.

"Okay go ahead and give it a sniff", Whumper held it to Whumpee's face.

Whumpee sniffed over the torture device.

*Click... click*

Whumper clicked the clicker to tell Whumpee they did good.

Whumper smiled as they offered Whumpee a treat.

"And sniff again", Whumper held up the muzzle.

Whumpee did as they were told a little quicker this time.

*Click... click*

"Good job Whumpee", Whumper grinned, "I think you'll like this next part, though it's going to be a bit messy."

Whumper sprayed a dab of whipped cream into the muzzle and held it up to Whumpee.

"Clean it up", Whumper smiled.

Whumpee cautiously leaned into the muzzle and gave a small lick before they realized what it was. They lapped the rest up in seconds.

"Muzzle yourself", Whumper made a command.

Whumpee looked up with concern. 'What?', they questioned to themself.

Whumper sprayed more whipped cream into the muzzle and held it up for Whumpee, "clean."

Whumpee quickly leaned into the muzzle and lapped up the sweet cream.

"Muzzle yourself", Whumper commanded again.

Whumpee looked up with a questioning look and cocked their head to the side.

*Click... click*

Whumpee happily received another treat.

"You're doing so good", Whumper stood, "I'll be right back... stay."

Whumper reached for the whipped cream can and sprayed a tiny bit under Whumpee's nose.

They chuckled as they watched Whumpee work to lick the cream off.

Whumper came back with a cleaned muzzle.

"I thought this would be a little messier, but you are doing so good", Whumper sat down again.

"Muzzle yourself", Whumper held up the muzzle.

Without thought, Whumpee leaned into the muzzle. They were disappointed when their was no more cream.

The muzzle suddenly tightened and was locked into place.

Whumpee quickly backed away from Whumper and started to frantically shake their head and paw at the muzzle. They rolled around the floor wildly.

Whumper watched them get their angst out, completely unbothered by Whumpee.

After a few minutes Whumpee made a tired huff and gasped for air.

"You done?", Whumper sighed, "if you come here I'll spray some whipped cream into your mouth."

Whumpee pawed at the muzzle again, before finally crawling to Whumper.

"Alright open your mouth" Whumper held up the can and stuck it into a slot and sprayed the cream into Whumpee's waiting mouth.

After a few minutes Whumper removed the muzzle and let Whumpee rub their face.

"Let's try again", Whumper held up the muzzle, "muzzle yourself."

Whumpee pawed at the clicker and whined.

"No, no clicks until you perform satisfactorily", Whumper shook their head, "muzzle yourself."

Whumpee leaned into the muzzle and shuddered as they felt it tighten and lock.

It took them everything not to try and shake it off again.

Whumper grinned as they sprayed more whipped cream into the muzzle.

Whumpee happily lapped it up again.

*Click... click*

Whumpee coveted that sound.

"Very good job Whumpee", Whumper happily removed the muzzle, "you did so good. I think you will have this down after a few more training sessions."

Whumpee happily rolled on the floor.

"Such a good Whumpee... are you my good Whumpee?", Whumper cooed.

Whumpee happily trotted to Whumper.

"Come here, such a good pet", Whumper praised as they hugged Whumpee tightly, "though you are absolutely sticky from the whipped cream."

"Let's give you one more spray before we get you cleaned up", Whumper held up the can and sprayed into Whumpee's mouth.

After giving Whumpee a bath, Whumper finally settled back on the couch.

Whumpee rested on the floor right under them.

"Let's see if there is anything good on TV now", Whumper reached for the remote, "if not, we might have to find another trick to learn.

Whumpee quietly pleaded that Whumper found something interesting to watch.

"Oh good... you're in luck Whumpee. The new season is out", Whumper chuckled, "I guess you get a break for the rest of today."

Whumpee happily rested their head on a pillow Whumper had given them earlier in the day.

'Thank goodness', Whumpee sighed in relief.

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all.

@villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived @sacredwrath @porschethemermaid @monarchthefirst

@generic-whumperz @bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13 @notpeppermint @cyborg0109

@idontreallyexistyet @painfulplots @whumpbump @everythingsscary @skittles-the-whumpee

@expressionless-fr @theforeverdyingperson @legendarydelusiongoatee @candleshopmenace @whumpanthems

@lavndvrr @ivymyers @starfields08000 @a-living-canvas @lumpofsand

@watermeezer @indigoviolet311 @whumpy-mountains @3-2-whump @risk606

@electrons2006

[storm-angel989]

She's hardheaded, just like her Daddy.

@lolita1266

Hey I was wondering if you could do valentine's daughter where she gets hurt during an exterminator.

Like let's say she is six or something and she gets curious on why she has to be in her room on a specific day and the vees won't tell her anything just that it's a 'special' day.

So one day when no one is looking she go's outside to see what so 'special' about it.

Just to be chase by some angles luckily the Vees see her with one of the many cameras in the city and save her. But she get a scar from it.

How would the vees react to it?

Also hope your have a nice day!

This is the actual story to this request! Enjoy!

"Daddy, I don’t wanna spend all day in Uncle Voxxy’s office,” I complained as my father pulled a dress over my head. “Why can’t I go to school?”

“Princessa, you know the answer to that. Today is a special day,” my father replied. “Now sit so I can braid your hair.”

"I want Mommy,” I grumbled as I complied. “Why did she leave again?”

"Mommy has an important job, bebita. And today, you do too.” My father said softly as he wove his fingers in and out of my hair. “I’ll get a good report, right?” 

I pouted but let him kiss my forehead. He swept me up in his arms and carried me out towards the living room. Unlike every other day of my life, the big sweeping floor to ceiling windows were covered in black curtains, obscuring the walls of silver that went in two days ago. Instead of the usual sunlight that dotted the room, the only light came from the lamps sprinkled around the apartment.

Every single year since I could remember, the week before today the walls went up. And on this day, I wasn’t allowed to go to school. Instead, I had to spend the day in my Uncle Vox’s downstairs office, playing with one of his assistants- usually Issac- until my father came and got me. It was boring, and Issac had zero sense of creativity. Nor did he have any desire to create unicorn traps or make slime. 

“Do you want a pop tart or a sticky bun?” My father asked as he set me down on the kitchen counter.

I crossed my arms. “I want to go to school.”

My father opened his mouth as if to scold me, but instead shook his head. “I’m sorry baby. Make a choice, you have to eat something.”

"Yeah, squirt, you’ll need your energy to hang in Uncle Voxxy’s office all day! Are you gonna draw my sharkies!?” My Uncle’s cheerful voice rang through the kitchen. “Issac is excited to color with you!”

I glared at my Uncle Vox. “That’s a lie. He only does it because you make him.”

"And if he doesn’t do a good job, Uncle Voxxy will fire him. So be a good little boss for me, won’t you?” Vox replied as he ruffled my hair. “I expect a full performance review at the end of the day!”

I grumbled. My Dad handed me a pop tart and begrudgingly, I took a bite. A few moments later, my Aunt Velvette walked in. Wordlessly, she poured herself a cup of coffee. 

“Velvette! How are you this hellish morning?” Vox sang as he added another spoonful of sugar to his coffee. 

“Cut the shit Vox, you know how I am,” Velvette grumbled. “And why is the baby still here? She needs to be downstairs with Issac in…” she paused and glanced at the clock. “A half hour at the latest.”

"We got a little sidetracked,” Valentino replied as he packed the final few snacks into my bright pink lunchbox. “But she’s almost ready to go.” 

“What else does she need? I’d hurry up if I was you,” Velvette replied with a glance at Valentino.

“Nothing. Come on bebita, Daddy will bring you downstairs,” Valentino said quickly. He lifted my backpack off the kitchen chair and slung it over his shoulder before lifting me up. I laid my head on his shoulder and he carried me to the elevator.

“Why do we have to do this every single year?” I complained as he walked me through the maze that was Vox’s basement office. “I don’t wanna spend all day with Issac, I wanna go to school.”

“Stop whining,” my father said sharply. He pushed open the door and set me down on the small twin bed in the back of my Uncle Vox’s second office. He knelt down and gently grabbed my chin. “Listen ninita, I need you to stay in here with Issac until one of us comes and gets you. Do you understand?”

I flinched at his words and looked down. “Yes, Papi.”

“Good.” He planted a kiss on my forehead. “Now be good for Issac, I’ll see you tonight.”

My father strode out the door. I turned and glanced at my would-be jailer and he gave me an overly bright, obviously fake smile. 

“Good morning reader! Would you like a snack? Or to play a game?” Issac asked cheerfully. 

“It's too early for a snack,” I grumbled as I stomped my way over towards one of the beanbag chairs. I picked up my tablet and opened up one of my favorite aps.  “Just leave me alone.”

Issac sighed. “Your Dad said he put a two hour timer on it.”

I ignored him and put my headphones on. In all honesty, that was an hour and a half more time than I usually got each day. Maybe there was something to this special day afterall. 

Six hours later, my tablet time had expired. I had leafed through every book and played exactly one excruciating round of Go-Fish with my fish faced warden. 

“I have to go potty,” I announced as I won yet another hand. “Bye.”

Leaving Issac behind with the pile of cards, I turned and walked down the windowless hallway. To the left the door led to the little girls room, but the heavy door to the right, usually closed tightly on this special day, was opened just a crack. 

That interested me. Maybe now I could find out why this day was so very important, and why Daddy covered every window and door in our apartment. I pushed the door open and walked up the stairs to the first floor.

I expected the doors to be barred up like the entryway to our apartment, but to my surprise, the first floor was bright. I crept by the empty greeters desk and out the doors of the tower. Why was my family so obsessed with today? It looked totally normal to me.

A sudden screech and I jumped, my attention pulled to the sky. To my horror, it looked like a cloud of flies had invaded, every other spot of sky blocked by black and white winged creatures. I stepped back towards the door to scurry back inside, and was hit with a volt of electricity. 

I yelped and one of the creatures, drawn by my cry, swooped down towards me. I threw my arms up to cover my head and braced for impact. 

A slew of angry Spanish and the feeling of my fathers arms as he pushed me into his arm protectivity. I opened my eyes to see the glowing red eyes of my Uncle Vox and the angry expression of my Auntie Velvette. I looked up to my fathers face and yelped when I saw the sharp teeth that made up his smile. Fear wracked my body as he cut down the creature with a single bullet. 

“It’s Papi, bebita. Shussh, niña papá está aquí,” he muttered. 

He turned around and with the wave of his hand a sharp blue light, Uncle Vox opened the previously locked front door. My father carried me inside, my Uncle and Aunt following close behind.

“Breath, little girl,” my father said softly as soon as the doors closed. “Papi is here. You’re safe.” 

I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath until his words. His hand pressed to my chest and I let out a slow exhale as I buried my face into him. Tears welled up in my eyes and he held me tighter. 

“Calm down baby, you’re safe,” he said softly. “Come on, deep breaths for Papi.” 

He shifted me and kissed the top of my head as he cradled me to his arms. A sharp crack and sizzle against the door and I looked up in horror at the blackened figure pressed against the glass. 

“Val, we should take her upstairs,” Vox said firmly. “Back to her room, if she needs you. Vel and I can hold down just fine.”

My father nodded and he carried me up the stairs. I laid my head on his shoulder and stuck my thumb in my mouth. Unlike every other time, my father let me. As soon as we got into my bedroom, he closed the door and sat me down on the bed.

“Bebita. We told you to stay with Issac,” he scolded as he knelt down. He ran his hands down my arms and squeezes gently. “Are you hurt?” 

I shook my head no and looked him up and down. He looked like my Daddy. He sounded like my Daddy. But I couldn’t shake the fear- my Daddy didn’t have sharp pointed teeth. 

“Open your mouth,” I demanded in response. “Say Ah.”

He raised an eyebrow but obliged. To my relief, his teeth looked completely normal.

“But I thought..you had..outside, Daddy your teeth,”

“I told you it was a special day,” he said soothingly. “That’s why we keep you inside away from the windows. Our minds play extra scary tricks on us, today of all days.” 

He must have seen the fear that I was sure showed on my face because he carefully lifted me up and I clung to him tightly as I wrapped my arms around his neck.

“Daddy is here baby, you’re okay. You just have to listen when we tell you to do something,” he said softly. “Are you ready to go back down to Issac or do you want Daddy to stay with you?” 

“You,” I mumbled into his neck. “Daddy, I’m scared. And I want Mommy.”

He sighed but laid us both down on the bed. 

“Lay down on your tummy, I’ll rub your back. Mommy will be home soon. And I know you’re scared, baby, but I promise you you’re safe. Okay?” 

I closed my eyes and under the weight of his hand, I felt myself relax. Tiredness washed over me and I closed my eyes.

“Daddy? You promise to keep me safe, always?” I asked sleepily. 

“Always baby girl,” my father replied back, “always.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Drawn Together 17

Warnings: non/dubcon, obsession, intimidation, spanking, and other dark elements.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: You get a tattoo on an impulse to break your routine, but you walk away with something else as permanent as the ink.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The night sees you in much the same trap as the one before. You’ve appeased Steve. For now. You know deep down, it won’t last. That it won’t be enough. Not in the end.

You sleep in the white satin he chose. He embraces you from behind, his hand cradles your chest as his breath whispers across your scalp. You’re suffocated by his warmth. You don’t move, the only time you’re truly alone is when he’s asleep.

You close your eyes to keep the tear from slipping past. You wiggle your nose as it tingles. The night breeze rustles the tree outside the window and carries the chirps of lively crickets. The song of the night is in disorder just as those that play in your head.

“Middle C,” the order comes and you set your hands just so. “Very good.” Professor Zemo praises as he flicks the metronome into a steady beat, “Begin.”

You hear the melody before your fingers pluck it out. It’s that magical sensation that overtakes you. The way your body moves naturally to create the music. As if it’s a part of you. You smile as you read the music, following along as the world pinpoints to the keys and nothing else.

“Posture,” Zemo squeezes your shoulder.

You fix your position and keep on, not missing a note. His hum underlines your symphony as you proudly play. He stays close by the bench, hand lingering on your sleeve, rubbing the fluttery fabric between his fingertips. You follow the highs and lows until you reach the end, hitting that final key with a flourish.

“You are improving,” he moves to stand behind you, close so that you feel the heat of him radiating around you. His other hand rests upon your second shoulder. “My dear, I must confess you are talented, if not the most talented student I’ve ever taught,” he bends and your skin pricks. What is he doing?

He presses his lips to your crown, “when you play,” he speaks into your hair, “you are the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.”

His hands wander down your blouse and he hooks beneath your arms. Your hands tamp down on the keys in surprise, a clatter of ugly notes all at once. He cups your chest through the layers of frills. You don’t know what to do so you do nothing. What can you do? He is your professor.

He pinches a button between his fingers and slowly undoes it, then another, and another. You shiver as he opens the front of your blouse. He stands straight to guide your sleeves down your arms. He steps closer and something hard presses to your back. You put your chin down as your lip trembles.

Coward.

You squeak as your eyes snap open. There is no relief to be found in waking. It’s not a dream but a memory. You feel a squeeze on your chest and your heart leaps into your throat. That speckling flame razes up your neck and across your cheeks. A furor you cannot bear.

You tear Steve’s arm away and push yourself out of the bed. You fall onto the floor, crawling away desperately as panic thrums against your ribs. Your arms shake and you fight not to collapse into a heap.

“Sweetheart,” Steve groans, his deep tones laced with fatigue and confusion. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” you stop and turn over, sitting on your bottom, “I just have to pee.”

You don’t move though. You can’t. You sit against the footboard and smother your mouth to keep your shallow breaths quiet.

“Hurry back…” his voice drifts off to a snore.

You shake your head as your eyes sting. You haven’t cried about this in years, so why now? Why do the ghosts have to come back and haunt you?

🌹

A rush of cool air flows over you as the blankets are torn away. Your shallow sleep cracks as you mutter cluelessly and fall onto your back. You squeak as you find Steve staring down at you, a hand planted on the mattress as he leans on one arm. You squeeze your legs together and cross your arms.

He caresses your shoulder, toying with the nightgown’s strap, twisting it as his fingertips brush your skin. Little specks of heat linger as he follows the lacy trim along your chest. You hold in a breath quivering at the intensity of his gaze as it trails his touch.

He pulls your arm away from your chest and the other slips down limply to your side. You’re paralysed. You’re too afraid to resist him as you watch his eyes. They are dark and distant as if possessed.

“You’re so sweet,” he tugs down the soft satin cup. You whimper as he bares half your chest. He cups your tit, fondling you as he groans. His thumb rolls around your nipple and you shiver. “It’s okay, sweetheart, you’ve been good.”

He gropes you as he purrs and slides down the bed. He stretches his arm up and lifts himself to his knees. He forces your legs apart and settles between them. His other hand traces along your thigh as he lets out a deep breath.

He kneads your chest as he slowly bends. You’re terrified as his hand crawls beneath the hem of your nightie and inches it up. He spreads out on his stomach, keeping his arm snaked up your torso as he pulls your leg over his shoulder. He bows his head to nuzzle the front of your panties and you twitch.

He hums and squeezes your chest again. A warning. You grab onto his thick arm as he inhales you and presses his nose against the cotton. The vivid ink that stains his skin contrasts with your own. You grip him tighter as he hums, sending a ripple through you.

Your breath hitches as he wiggles his head against you. A damp heat permeates the front of your panties and he tickles you through the fabric with his tongue. His saliva soaks through as he pushes the cotton against your folds, suckling through the layer hungrily.

He traces his fingers down the crease of your leg and drags your panties to the side. His cool tongue meets your hot cunt and you gasp. His nails dig into your skin as he blindly gropes your chest, thumb catching on the slack satin.

You're helpless. Just like before. Too weak to fight. You just let it happen. You wince as the sheets brush against your bruises. What else can you do? He's not hurting you. Yet.

He laps between your folds as your legs quiver. You close your eyes as your grasp drifts down his arm, reaching weakly for his head. You feel completely exposed to him. You want him to stop but the flick of his tongue has you spasming. He swirls around your clit so that a pluck coils in your muscles.

You’re completely disarmed as spreads his tongue wide and tastes you. He slowly drags his tongue up and back down. Your thighs tingle as he seals his lips around your tender bud and the sudden pressure has you writhing. He groans as he uses the tip of his tongue to tease you.

Your back arches as you push your thigh against his head. His beard tickles you, another wave rolling through you. It’s too much and not enough. You want him desperately to stop yet fear that he will. 

You moan and sink your head back in the pillow. Your hips rock as he flutters his fingertips along your ass, adding to the storm of sensation. Shame bubbles with something else. Something hotter. Irresistible.

You cry out as you lose control. As you succumb to him. No, he’s conquered you. You surrender in a spasm of delight, mewling between heavy puffs as you clamp your thighs around his head and twist wildly.

He doesn’t stop. He drinks you in desperately as you cum. He keeps on until you can’t. Your legs splay and your arms fall down limply. You lay quaking and whimpering as he sucks and licks at your cunt. He does so noisily rubbing his beard against your sopping cunt until you whine.

“Please,” you squeal as you reach for him, lifting your head dizzily, “please… Steve…” His eyes flick up as he swipes his tongue around your clit, “sir… I can’t… I can’t take…”

You drop your head back down as your hips jerk. Your voice swells out of you, blooming into moans and drones. You feel it again, the tempo building and building, until you can’t stand it. Your nerves scatter again in a violent chorus that has you clawing at the sheets.

He does not relent. Even as you writhe, even as you push on his head and beg. Please, please, please.

[the-kr8tor]

Hehe :) was feeling evil (tw death? Yea)

Survivor Hobie x survivor reader in a post apocalyptic world (zombies/clickers: tlou based)

As you walk through the warmth of the quiet woods, mosquitoes bite at you relentlessly and your partner. Your s u r v i v a l partner and nothing more. Hobie and you found each other in a desolate city. Your car was out of gas, his legs were tired. After a lot of heavy doubting you came to warm up around one another, he protected you, you protected him. You both saw the other through injury in just about a few months of vagabonding. The both of you never truly belong anywhere as you dredge through the woods and cities carefully.

He'd be lying if he said you didn't make a good travel partner though, you're smart enough to not just eat whatever and you can defend yourself a good bit. You however are getting annoyed and curious, he keeps writing in a small notebook he carries around and always at the most random times yet he refuses to let you see as he always throws in some type of fantastical excuse.

And there you are at the end of the world, in the underground of the city. As you walk through the sewer system because the grounds up has been infested with too many clickers you hear some down in this infernal trap. There is no way back. You both look at each other and he grabs your hand in his tightly, giving your hand a few squeezes. You're doomed. Or at least you think so. Hobie doesn't make it out but he was able to take them out at least for you. You'll make it out and you'll be safe, he knows that. You'll find someone again. He clutches your hand to his heart as he stares at you, he never imagined he'd meet his end in a sewer yet there was the cruel part of him that thought he deserved it just like everything in his childhood. Before he can continue on with his last thoughts about his own doom he feels tears come down on his face like rain, he blinks half lazily as he looks up at you. His eyes recognize your tender face, the one he's come to take a liking to. With spare energy he cups your cheek and beckons you down, kissing your cheek with a weak smile.

It's his last before he fades, but you have other plans. You didn't want him to think his affection was a one way road, you kiss him through the tears and he feels his pain alleviate as he bleeds out. His eyes grow hazy and blank before he finally leaves you alone, again. You take your time to mourn and scrounge up his body to make sure you keep every item of his in your memory. You know you don't have much time and yet out of dedication and affection for him you drag his lifeless body out of there. His blood trails as his heavy body rests on your back.

You make it outside in a forest and put yourself to work, working will alleviate the pain. Or make you forget it if not just a bit. You rest his body in the soil, where it belongs, amongst nature and not in a filthy underground system. You believe t h i s is less than he deserves. An actual burial with family and friends alike is what he should've gotten. You try and tell yourself one person here will at least mourn the memory of him as you sit down on-top of the soil he's under.

You bring out his notebook, you miss him terribly. You yearn and you mourn truly. As you open the notebook you see a few drawings of plants, he probably had it for a long time since it's almost full but a few pages towards the end were still blank. As it goes on you see small drawings of you appear. Your food tastes noted down, small poems etched into the pages which your tears can only soil. Small confessions of love and of his affection for you. The last thing you read breaks your heart: "Signed, your Hobie, now and later when we make it out."

-🪦

The second I read that it's a zombie au i already had tears in my eyes 🥲

Bro this legit made me cry 😭 r giving him a proper resting place, them kissing for the first and last time, r seeing the contents of his notebook 😭 brb I need to bash my head against the wall to stop crying

[p0ssywhippedcream]

Pining Piper. Piper who's heart aches, physically pulls on her chest every time she sees you with that smile. Piper who can't help to fall in love with you, even if she knows she can't have you.

You're larger than life, you laugh and it carries miles, moves mountains. You're contagious, skipping to breakfast hand in hand with a couple giddy younger campers. You kiss your fingers and wipe them on your friends foreheads, leaving them in reels of giggles.

And you've never been in love romantically, but you love so deeply she can't help but love you. You apologize to bugs as you trap them in cups and march them outside, you always have a drink mustache for a couple minutes after eating and when you hug, you tackle.

Her dilemma is that you're currently tackling her, spinning as you hit the soft grass and land on top of her. Of course your palm is tucked under her head as it thuds against the ground. Of course you're giving her a cute, toothy grin. Of course your cheeks are red from exhilaration as you excitedly ask if she wants to throw a slumber party and she wonders if they'd be red like that if she kissed you.

Your eyes are glowing when she agrees, rolling off of her and laying flat on your back as you animatedly talk about the details. By the time you've got to the cake mix and the movie options, two doves have landed in a wisteria tree. They sit together, fat bellies touching but the right one's wings stutter like its preparing to leave already.

You call her attention back with an excited face as you sit up and block her view of the birds.

"You want red velvet right? I know you don't watch many movies but I want to make sure you feel included."

"Yeah," She nods and her braids scratch the blades of grass, "Yeah, I like red velvet."

"Okay, good!" You shoot her a blinding smile that pushes your eyes close and she swoons. Gods, you're so pretty. With your cheekbones and nose, chin and eyebrows and with such soulful gentle fingers that fiddle with hers as you speak. You're fidgeting obviously, the ADHD demigod in you evident as you stutter and skip to another topic. So she really tries to not take it to heart when you bring her knuckles to your lips and give them a chaste peck.

And now you're standing up and tugging her with you, dragging her away from the treeline and beelining for the cabins as you talk a mile a minute. She glances over her shoulder and through your grass-messied hair and the birds are gone, wisteria branches waving in farewell, good luck, goodbye. She looks at you, admires your imperfect teeth, chapped lips and squinted eyes as you unknowingly break her heart.

Suddenly you stop and gasp, dropping her hand much to her dismay and pointing at something in the air.

"Oh, Piper! Aren't they pretty?" She follows your line of sight, catching a glimpse of pale wings before they're gone.

"What?" She asks, scanning for where the attraction might be but missing the doves as they weave teasingly from sight.

"The birds, Pipes!" You whip towards her dramatically, "You didn't see 'em? Oh, the prettiest birds and they were carrying this adorable blue flower together! Maybe a rose, aren't roses your mom's- or is that.. no, your mom has the..."

You conclude with a confused face and no end punctuation and then you're back to your own world, granting her access with mumbles of joy as you recapture her palm in yours and swing her arm.

Piper knows how Icarus felt. When he flew so close to the sun. She'd kiss you right now just to experience kissing you, but her wings are only plastic and they melt right off when you meet her gaze for a second before taking off, tugging her with you in a flurry of giggles and panting.

As you leave her sweating and dehydrated at the door of her cabin with a promise to meet her at dinner to discuss the plan, you wonder if such a lovely girl could ever love you back and she wonders if her mom really loves her at all.

With a sniff and a set expression, you resolve to kissing everybody's cheek just to feel her soft skin underneath your lips, to holding all the hands so that hers could fit in inconspicuously to anybody but you. You know her wrinkles though, and the stories her palm lines tell and you'd do just about anything to keep feeling them, even if you have to exaggerate your affection for others to avoid suspicion.

[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

Ending 2: An Impossible Marriage

Summary: You make a choice and stay.

Notes: dress: https://www.pinterest.de/pin/126804545731814051/

Taglist: @majesticwren@obsessiveformiyatwins @bpdst-massacre @padfooteyes@lj127 @bitem4rked @cl-0-vr @chattylurker @levithestripper @a-beaverhousen (hmu to be added to any taglist!)

Part 1 / Ending 1 | Masterlist | my requests are OPEN!

You woke up with a start in the middle of the night, not remembering where you were immediately. For a moment, the soft sheets under your hands felt like a trap, until you spotted Aemond next to you, sleeping.

You’d never seen him sleep before. Somehow, it was strange to see him so peaceful. Aemond had never been peace, even as a child. And yet, it looked like he hadn’t seen a lick of violence in all his days.

It wasn’t true. You felt cold suddenly, and the fact that you had woken up felt like a sign. You couldn’t kill Aemond, and this night would always be a weakness. But you could still fight. You could still try to make good what you’d done, for your Queen.

Somehow, you knew that leaving now would be a better revenge than whatever Daemon could do to make Queen Alicent pay for Lucerys. Daemon couldn’t reach Aemond, but you could.

Still, it felt like your ankles were in iron fetters as you slipped off the bed, searching for an escape. Instead, your eyes landed on a table, with the things on it that had been taken from you when you were captured.

They were stacked and folded neatly, arranged methodically and yet it felt like Aemond had built an altar for you.

You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t leave him.

You tried to pick up the sword, tried to put on your things, but it was too heavy in your guilty hands and clattered to the ground. You followed, scrambling onto your knees before freezing with terror. Tears pricking at your eyes, you let the blade go.

“What are you doing?” Aemond demanded from the bed.

“Leaving. Or at least, I tried. I cannot do it, Aemond.”

Immediately, he was by your side, cupping your chin with his slender hand and tilting it up at you.

“Marry me.” He asked again. “I will give you the Seven Kingdoms my love, I promise you.”

“I don’t want the Seven Kingdoms, Aemond.” You said. “I want a roof above my head, and food in my belly. The ambitions of the common folk do not reach for the throne.”

“Then I shall give you a kingdom of my making.” He replied.

“I will marry you.” You agreed. “But that means I want you to be with me, alive.”

There was a slight smirk on Aemond’s face as he picked you up and carried you back towards the bed.

“I can promise you no such thing, my Queen.”

You laughed at the ridiculous title, lying your head on Aemond’s chest. His heart was hammering underneath the skin, and you smiled.

“Are you nervous?” you asked. When Aemond did not respond, you lifted your head to look at him.

“Impossible. Aemond Targaryen, the prince of the Seven Kingdoms is nervous.”

“Go to bed woman.” Aemond teased back, pulling you into his arms.

***

The next morning, Aemond wasn’t in the bed when you woke up. Instead, a knock at the door woke you up.

Groggily, you opened it only a little, peering outside.

“The prince asked me to draw you a bath, m’lady.” A young girl said from the other side. She was holding two buckets of water in her hands, drops falling onto the stone tiles as she swayed with the weight.

Quickly, you opened the door, taking the buckets from the girl before she could protest and dumping them into the copper tub you’d spotted at the end of the room.

“I’ll help you with the rest. They’re too heavy for you.”

“There’s no need, m’lady.” The girl chirped, but you shook your head.

“I’m not a lady. Just common folk, like you.”

“The prince insisted you are the most noble of women. He must like you very much then.” She concluded.

“I suppose so. Then let us fetch the water together at least.” You replied, and the girl gave you a small grin.

After you’d pulled some clothes over your shift, she led you through the vast corridors of Harrenhal and into the kitchen, where servants were warming up water for you. You shook your head at Aemond’s excessiveness, remembering the giant tubs they had here.

He probably did not know better, the rich noble he was.

The girl stayed at your side, turning around when you sunk into the tub, but staying to ‘attend to you’. You could see that she was excited about serving a lady, even if you weren’t one, so you let her stay.

“Are you like the warrior Queen? Vinesya?” she asked shyly after she’d spotted a long scar on your arm.

“Her name was Visenya. I am a soldier.” You replied. “But that scar is from my childhood. My father is a blacksmith, and a smithy isn’t a place to run around in.”

“A blacksmith?” she asked enthusiastically.

“Yes.”

“So is my father! He made the armor for the prince, and for Ser Harwin Strong. I wasn’t even born then.” She chittered on. You let her hand you the soap and dance around you with shifts and expensive dresses, and by the end of it, she was practically glowing with happiness.

“He has had a gift made for you.” She said suddenly, dashing out of the room and into the hallways, returning with a stunning ring. A dark sapphire sparkled in the middle of it, encased by fine metalwork. You didn’t have to be a smith’s daughter to tell that this ring was worth a fortune.

“Thank you.” You said, and she nodded, leaving you in the room. You ran your hand over the smooth edges of your stay. The shift you were wearing was so white it was no doubt new, and when you slipped the expensive ring onto your finger, you felt like royalty.

“I see you received my gift.” Aemond murmured behind you, letting the door fall closed after him. His hands slipped onto your shoulders, one encircling your waist and the other holding up your newly bejewled hand.

“It suits you.” He said, gently turning you around. “My beautiful girl.”

“It is too much.” You replied.

“Not for a future queen.”

“Are you still going on about that? What skills do I even have to make a good one?” you laughed.

“You’re dutiful, and just and humble. You know the common folk, women and soldiers alike and have a heart for children.”

“I cannot read well, or know much of diplomacy. Neither have I learned anything of statecraft.” You argued.

“I will teach you.” Aemond promised. “You will be the best queen the Seven Kingdoms has ever seen.”

“Aemond.” You began. “Don’t reach for such high ambitions. Kings and Queens live and die far too quickly. Wouldn’t you rather live a quiet life?”

“You know that is not me.” He snapped.

“I know. But you cannot make me your queen. Your wife, yes, but I will never reach for that cursed throne as you wish to. Take me as I am or leave me be.”

You saw his jaw set as he thought about it for a minute.

“What about another throne?”

You rolled your eyes, but as you saw how serious Aemond was, you gave him a small smile. “Fine. You shall have another throne then.”

“Right now, I shall have you as my wife.” Aemond replied. Stepping back, he revealed a small package to you, and when you opened it, the most intricate dress you’d ever seen looked back at you.

“Which seamstress managed to make this so quickly?” you asked, baffled. Aemond stared down at the ground with no response.

“Did you…?” you began, and Aemond stopped you.

“Yes, I had it done early.”

You took your time to unravel the dress and admire the work that had been done on it. When you looked at it, you weren’t quite sure whether you were looking at armor or gown – gold embroidery covered the bodice, and golden shoulder caps resembling armor were sown on as well, with greater skill than you would ever achieve.

The gold glinted in the morning sun, and you could not imagine the sum Aemond had taken from the crown’s coffers to have this made. You supposed it was good for the Blacks.

“It’s beautiful.” You said.

“I’ll help you put it on.” Aemond replied, carefully helping you into the dress. While he was lacing it, you could hear your own heart hammering, still in disbelief that this was happening

“Did you wait this long to release me so that the dress would be complete?” you asked.

“Rumours would have spread if I’d released and kept you, love. I wanted to make the preparations as best I could.”

“Hmm.” You replied

“Are you stealing that from me?” Aemond asked.

“Perhaps I am just spending too much time with my betrothed.” You laughed, feeling your skin turn to goosebumps as Aemond’s fingers gently swiped your hair out of the way to finish closing your dress.

“You look beautiful.” He said.

“You’re not too bad yourself. Tell me, does your wedding doublet have fine gold embroidery as well?”

“Black and red was planned. Apparently, the new cloak for you is almost done as well.” Aemond replied. His fingers tapped impatiently against your dress, and you reached up to take his hand.

“Go check on it.” You said with a slight smile.

“There’s no need.” Aemond replied.

“I can see it in your eye. Go.”

He rolled it in response, but as soon as you let his hand go, he slipped from the room. His nervosity had transferred onto you, and you failed as you tried to braid your hair with shaking hands. No matter. You’d never liked the tight styles anyway.

You went for something that resembled Princess Helaena’s hairdos more, braiding the hair along your crown and out of your face. You were barely finished when the door burst open again.

“Aemond?” you asked, turning around, but you faced an unfamiliar face instead.

“My lady.” He greeted, bowing quickly.

“Who are you?”

“A messenger.” He replied. A spy. You heard. For which side?

“Go on then, what is your message?” you demanded.

“Your father. He has been beheaded for treason.”

You felt your knees give out, and the messenger stumbled forward to catch you.

“My lady?”

“Who?”

“Sorry, I don’t understand.” He said.

“Who sentenced and killed him?” you asked again.

“Prince Daemon. The sentence was carried out yesterday.”

“Leave me. Please.”

You should have expected it. You should have known that this would happen. Your brothers and mother you’d mourned when you heard of the king’s death. Your father…

He had always been complicated to you, preferring his sons like every man. Teaching them his craft, gifting them his knowledge. But he’d doted on you as well, let you run free and scrape your knees when other fathers were already marrying their children off.

He’d let you wield the weapons he made, for he knew that you loved to fight. He’d let you choose whom to love.

And now he was gone. It shouldn’t feel strange, and yet it was unfathomable. The messenger was gone, and you sat in this chamber of riches with a father you’d betrayed.

Aemond appeared silently, and you only noticed it when his arms enveloped you, gently pulling you to his chest.

There was a silent understanding between the two of you. His hands found your back, rubbing in circles in an attempt to soothe you.

“My love.” He whispered. “I shall become a kinslayer for you once more.”

You looked up slowly, your hands finding his face, cradling his jaw. You knew your fingers were ice cold, but Aemond did not flinch.

“Make him burn.” You said coldly. “End this war.”

There was a small smile on Aemond’s face as he helped you up.

“I shall raise you up into greatness, my love, and then you’ll make them all face justice yourself.” He promised.

Just then, queenship did not sound like a burden too heavy.

***

Your ceremony wasn’t grand. There was a septon, the people of Harrenhal and the two of you. No one handed you over. There were no men left that you could have belonged to.

You wore no maiden’s cloak, for it would have been a lie. And yet, when you spoke your vows, they were a promise you meant to keep.

“With this kiss I pledge my love.” Aemond said. Distantly, you heard your own voice echo his words. His lips tasted like a promise, and not that of a gentle man.

No feast followed. Aemond meant to make good on your promise, and left the inhabitants of Harrenhal to prepare your departure. Soon enough, news of your marriage would reach the ends of the realm.

You weren’t giving yourself any illusions. This marriage would be seen as a sham. There had been no time for a consummation afterward, but still, House Baratheon would likely take offense to it.

The castle was left under the rule of Alys Rivers, a Strong bastard. She had been the woman to dress you before she took you to Aemond. It was said that she dabbled in magic, and sometimes, you thought you could see a glimpse of red behind her brown eyes.

Good. That meant the castle would hold.

Aemond led you to Vhagar, assuring you that the dragon would not eat you on sight. You’d exchanged your wedding dress and cloak for riding leathers, same as Aemond, but you still felt your heart hammer in your chest as you approached the beast.

He led your hand as you touched her scales, hot under your skin. It reminded you that dragons were fire made beasts, and your nervosity only grew as Aemond helped you up the ropes and into Vhagar’s saddle.

He secured you tightly, and that eased your nerves only slightly. You heard him shout commands to Vhagar, and your knuckles turned white around the edge of the saddle as the giant beast began to move, heaving herself into the sky.

“Gods.” You whispered, trying to keep yourself from screaming, and Aemond laughed as you grabbed onto him.

“Don’t let me fall.” You threatened.

“Never.” Aemond replied, but he pulled Vhagar up, until she rose into the sky almost vertically, and this time, you screamed. After a while, you felt your fear ease up, and be replaced with something akin to exhilaration, only that the taste of danger clung to your tongue, tasting like fire.

“Make her do the thing.” You shouted to Aemond.

“What thing?” he asked.

“Are you seriously asking me that atop a dragon?” you replied, and Aemond laughed again.

“Dracarys, Vhagar.” He shouted, and the old she-dragon made a ball of fire appear in the sky. Aemond dove down, and you watched as the ground came closer, your stomach plummeting with your height. He pulled her up again, but you turned around and smacked him against his chest.

“How dare you!”

“It was fun, wasn’t it?”

“I felt like I was going to die!”

“That’s the point.”

“I don’t particularly enjoy your point.” You told him accusingly. Aemond kissed your jaw softly, as if to soothe you, and you felt only slightly angry at the fact that it worked.

Landscapes turned into a blur of green and brown beneath you, passing quicker than you had imagined possible, until you finally reached King’s Landing. As soon as you landed, Alicent Hightower ran towards Vhagar. She hadn’t seen you. Yet.

“Aemond!” she shouted. “Aegon is dead! He was poisoned in one of the brothels. You are regent!”

“Mother.” Aemond said as he climbed from Vhagar. “I’ve missed you.”

“Aemond, did you not hear me?” Alicent asked, and you could hear the panic in her voice. Then, her eyes fell on you.

“What is she doing here?” she spat.

“Mother. I got married.”

“No.” Alicent said. “Not to that… peasant. You were promised to Floris Baratheon! We have already been weakened with Aegon’s death and you do this? Have you gone made?”

“Quite the opposite.” Aemond snapped.

“I shall fetch the septon to annul this sham.” Alicent spat.

“It has already been consummated.”

“You did not.”

Aemond approached Alicent carefully, putting his hands in hers. There was a softness Alicent held for her second born that you had always admired.

“I am here now, mother. Let me take care of things.”

“Aemond-“

“Mother, trust me.”

***

Helaena sat in her chambers in Maegor’s holdfast, embroidering while her children played next to her. Carefully, you knocked at the doorframe to make yourself known.

Her eyes snapped up, and a smile grew on her face. “The steel and the dragon shall be joined, and peace come with it.” She whispered.

Quickly, you crossed the room and hugged her tightly. Helaena and you hadn’t been the closest, but she was kind and far too gentle for a war.

Helaena froze for a second, before she hugged you back.

“Are you truly my sister now?” she asked, and you nodded carefully.

“I am. But I do not know how I can give you peace.”

“Please, I don’t want Jaeharys or Maelor to sit the throne.” Helaena begged quickly. “Tell Aemond.”

“Tell me what?” Aemond asked, standing in the doorway.

“Brother!” Helaena practically squealed, flinging herself into Aemond’s arms. It was an entertaining sight, watching Aemond awkwardly pat his sister’s back.

“What was your concern?” Aemond asked again.

“Don’t put my sons on the throne. All I want is for them to be safe.” Helaena repeated.

“Aemond.” You said quietly. “This is our chance. This is how we stay together.”

“Don’t say what I think you want to say.” Aemond snarled.

“Make peace with the Blacks.”

Aemond spat, his fist slamming against the wall next to him. Helaena and her children winced, but you only looked at him angrily.

“Think about it! You are Jaeharys’ regent! You command the Greens! Why does it matter to you so much?” you beseeched. Aemond grabbed you by the arm, pulling you out of the room and slamming the door behind him.

“Why can’t you just give them what they want? It’ll safe us.” You begged.

“Don’t you understand? I want to give you everything! I must, how else can I deserve you?” Aemond shouted. His eye was wide, and you wondered if you imagined that it looked teary.

“I don’t want to be Queen! Aemond, you mustn’t give me the throne, you have already giving me everything!”

Hands shaking, you cupped his face, pulling him down into a soft kiss. The stiffness left Aemond’s muscles, and his head fell onto your shoulder. You caught him, holding onto him as he weeped into your shoulder silently.

When he looked back up, you knew he had made up his mind.

“Please, give us a chance.” You whispered.

Aemond forced them to let you onto the small council.

“As your new regent, I am ending this war immediately.” Aemond opened the discussion.

“Good, it is past time Jae-“ Criston began, but Aemond held up his hand and the man stilled.

“I will send peace terms to Rhaenyra Targaryen at Dragonstone. You strayed from your vows when you made my brother king, Ser Criston. It is past time we made this wrong right.”

“You cannot mean to-“

“I can, and I do.” Aemond said. Out of the corner of your eyes, you could see Alicent’s expression and it was an expression of… relief?

“The terms are as following: Rhaenyra Targaryen will be crowned Queen of the Seven Kingdoms immediately. All lords that opposed her shall be pardoned. Helaena Targaryen shall receive Dragonstone and Joffrey Velaryon as her ward. In return, Maelor Targaryen shall be fostered under Rhaenyra Targaryen, so that he may learn the art of state craft from her.

No Targaryen shall lose the access to either castle, dragon eggs, or be stripped of their titles. Alicent Hightower shall make amends with her childhood friend. In person. Daemon Targaryen shall pass on his sword to the heir to the throne, Jacaerys Velaryon, immediately.

Criston Cole will be sent to the Night’s Watch for high treason and the murder of Lyman Beesbury.”

For a moment, the entire council was stunned into silence, and then, everyone began talking at once.

“You cannot!” Criston shouted over the rest of the people attending. “That bitch-wife of yours has told you lies. You must-“

“What did you just say about my wife?” Aemond asked slowly. “If you honor your vows, you will continue serving the realm, Ser Criston. In the North. After what you’ve just said, you should be glad your head is still on your shoulders.”

“She will never accept these terms.” Tyland Lannister said.

“No, I think she might.” Queen Alicent said slowly. “I have come to resent the color green. My son is dead. Another will follow soon enough if we don’t stop this madness.”

“I’ll never accept these terms.” Criston snapped.

“And who asked you, Ser Criston?” Alicent shouted. You could see her hands shake from your place at the table. In that moment, everything about her made sense to you.

Alicent had loved Rhaenyra. She still did, and not in the way a friend should. It was so ridiculous that you wanted to cry and laugh at the same time. Alicent Hightower had come to resent her childhood friend because she could not love her the way she wanted to.

“My wife and Helaena will deliver these terms.” Aemond announced, and you turned around too quickly.

“Helaena? She isn’t fit.” Lord Jasper Wylde laughed.

“Out of all of her half-siblings, Rhaenyra always loved Helaena most.” Aemond replied calmly. “And she is the only dragonrider they won’t kill on sight. My wife is the only person Rhaenyra might trust that we could send.”

“Because she is a turncloak!” Criston responded.

“You are the turncloak, kingmaker.” Alicent spat, and the men at the table stared dumbly at the Queen. Criston, used to being her favorite, only looked at her in despair, and then anger. When he launched himself at his Queen, you reacted the quickest, tackling him off of her.

A splatter of blood splashed onto your face as Aemond killed Ser Criston.

“Helaena will fly tonight.” He concluded. “My lords, I recommend that none of you take any hasty actions. Otherwise, you’ll be traitors to two Targaryens.”

***

Helaena had been more than nervous about flying her dragon to Dragonstone and leaving her children behind. It had taken two hours of convincing, until she agreed, and even now, she seemed hesitant to rouse Dreamfyre.

“I don’t think I’m fit.” She whispered. You grabbed her hand, trying to comfort her as only one woman could another.

“That’s what they’ve told you all your life. But me and Aemond, we see you as you are. You are a Dreamer, carrying the gift and burden of Old Valyria. You know what must be done.”

Helaena nodded simply, helping you onto Dreamfyre.

The entire flight, Helaena remained silent. Her hands were tight on Dreamfyre’s controls, but she gave you a small smile of encouragement.

“You’ll go down into history as more than a wife.” You told her as you began your descent. “They’ll call you Helaena the Peacebroker.”

“I’d like that.” She agreed.

As soon as Dreamfyre touched the ground, crossbowmen stood in position.

“We come in peace!” you shouted. “Aemond Targaryen wishes to discuss terms of peace with Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen.”

You didn’t expect her to come. And yet, she appeared a few minutes later, Jacaerys Velaryon at her side. You were glad it wasn’t Daemon, for he might have cut you from ear to ear.

“You come with peace terms?” Rhaenyra asked, eyeing Dreamfyre suspiciously.

“We do.” You said, stepping out behind the dragon’s wing. Helaena followed you hesitantly.

“I am the Queen.” Rhaenyra said firmly, and you nodded.

“Aegon is dead. Aemond has decided that it was wrong of Otto Hightower to conspire to put him on the throne.”

“Aegon is dead?” Rhaenyra whispered. “How?”

“Poisoned. Perhaps it was your husband’s former paramour.” You said quietly.

“What are your terms?” Jacaerys asked quietly.

“Rhaenyra Targaryen will be crowned Queen of the Seven Kingdoms immediately. All lords that opposed her shall be pardoned. Helaena Targaryen shall receive Dragonstone and Joffrey Velaryon as her ward. In return, Maelor Targaryen shall be fostered under Rhaenyra Targaryen, so that he may learn the art of state craft from her. No Targaryen shall lose the access to either castle, dragon eggs, or be stripped of their titles.” You paused for a second, watching as Rhaenyra’s eyes widened at your words.

“Alicent Hightower shall make amends with you. In person. Daemon Targaryen shall pass on his sword to the heir to the throne, Jacaerys Velaryon, immediately. As a show of trust, Ser Criston Cole has been executed for his treason and the murder of Lyman Beesbury. Your Grace, do you accept?”

For a moment, Rhaenyra stood frozen, before she suddenly walked forward, completely ignoring the fact that you still had your weapons on you. Instead, she pushed past you and embraced Helaena.

“My dear sister.” She said. “I am sorry for all the suffering I may have caused you.”

“Do you accept these terms, your Grace?” you asked her. Rhaenyra nodded.

“You are truly the most useful general I’ve had.” She said with a slight smile.

“Thank you, your Grace.”

“I only have two terms in return.” She said quietly. “An apology from Aemond Targaryen. For the death of Lucerys, my dear son. And that, in time, the Greens and Blacks will be joined in marriage.”

Jacaerys stepped forward. “Princess Helaena, your husband has died, and I am not yet married. If you wish, I would marry you, close the rift in the realm and honor you as my wife.”

Helaena paled, but Jacaerys remained undeterred. Carefully, he stepped forward, until only his mother and you were within earshot.

“I promise, I will not bed you if you do not wish it. You already have children.” Jacaerys said. Rhaenyra gave him a soft smile, and your heart melted as you realized that in this moment, Rhaenyra was not thinking about her own line or his betrothal, only about her son’s kindness.

***

In the end, all terms had worked out perfectly, much to your surprise. As soon as Rhaenyra had landed Syrax in front of King’s Landing, the gates had opened, and out had stormed Alicent, completely forgetting to carry herself as a queen as she apologized to Rhaenyra.

In turn, Rhaenyra had apologized to Alicent as well. Aemond had taken longer to convince, but eventually, he had explained what happened to Rhaenyra, and while you knew she could not quite forgive him, she at least did not have him killed.

Daemon had been wroth when he returned from fighting and heard what had happened, shouting for hours on end. Often, you were convinced that you would have to break down the door to the Throne Room and kill the Rogue Prince.

He had disappeared for three weeks, and then returned to Rhaenyra the day of her coronation. You didn’t understand how he could forgive her.

While Corlys Velaryon was furious about the broken betrothal, Rhaenys had seemed content with seeing Rhaenyra on the throne, and had betrothed Baela to Alyn Velaryon instead, something even Corlys was content, though not happy, with.

What had surprised you was that Alicent had asked Rhaenyra to execute Lord Larys Strong, but the new Queen had done so with no qualms.

Helaena and Jacaerys had been a good match. The day after the two had been married, Helaena had come to you and told you all about her new husband. Already, Jacaerys had taken to loving her children as if they were his own. He fully believed her about her dreams, and Helaena was almost ecstatic when he did not call her strange after she’d rescued a spider from him.

Today, really, was supposed to be a day like every other. In the end, Rhaenyra had managed to not sour each time she saw Aemond, but she had decided that it would be better for him to take up duties away from her.

Still, in the end, she had named Aemond her hand as a sign of good faith, and also realizing that he was well suited to the task.

Thus, you became a Targaryen princess that you’d never asked to be, and by Rhaenyra’s request, Lady Commander of the City Watch.

Truly, the men did not respect you at all when you began your work, but you knew Flea Bottom better than any other noble.

After a while, they began calling you ‘the Common Targaryen’ and while Alicent and Aemond were furious when they heard, you liked the name.

“My dearest wife?” Aemond asked, ripping you from your thoughts. “Daemon is dead.”

You glanced around, making sure that there were no men around.

“Did you?”

He nodded carefully. “I promised you. For your father. Now it is done.”

“Thank you, Aemond.” You said sincerely.

“Black suits you.” He replied, letting his eye rake over your black-and-gold armor appreciatively.

“As it does you.” You said with a small smile, noticing that he looked more ladylike than you.

“My love?” Aemond suggested, his tone too suave for this early in the morning.

“I am working.” You chided. Aemond pouted like a child, and you rolled your eyes lightly.

“Fine. But you better be quick.”

He nodded, walking to the door of your solar and bolting it, before he set you on the table. You could hear your men walk past your door.

“Aemond, this is not what I meant.”

“Do you want me to stop, lady commander?” he teased, beginning to remove very specific parts of your armor.

“Fuck yo-“ you began, unable to finish your sentence as Aemond fell to his knees.

“I believe I already am.” He replied with a chuckle.

“I love you, my dear Aemond.”

“And I you, my beautiful wife.”

[simplylove101]

2024 Horror Challenge: [28/?]

↳“I think you're looking for me.” Trap (2024) dir. M. Night Shyamalan

Plot: A father and his teen daughter attend a pop concert only to realize they've entered the center of a dark and sinister event.

Starring: Josh Hartnett, Ariel Donoghue, Saleka Night Shyamalan, Hayley Mills & Alison Pill (and featuring Kid Cudi & Russ)

Last catchup review for the day (even tho I definitely have other horror movies I watched lately) since these were the big four that I wanted to type up on here. I saved this review for last because I actually went to go see this one in the theater. Yeah, a M. Night movie, me, in the year 2024. Who would have thought? Mostly because as I previously stated in my reviews of Old, Knock at the Cabin & The Visit (and his daughter's The Watchers), my track record with him is, quite frankly, not the best. lol But hey, I love Signs. I was mildly amused by The Visit. Split, while problematic, is pretty entertaining imo. And I've actually never properly watched The Sixth Sense in its entirety (I already knew the plot twist so lol) but hey, that's considered a classic. So, I don't hate M. Night. Just not all of his movies are my cup of tea BUT I was actually pretty excited for this one. The premise intrigued me, despite there not seeming much elsewhere for the story to go based on the trailer. And a chance to see Josh Harnett as a villain, hello??? Sign me up! Also, I just really love the idea of a horror movie at a concert. Now, while I didn't hate this... I gotta get into the negatives. lol Overall, it is kinda mid. BUT it's because while there are some twists near the end in typical Shyamalan fashion, most of the first half was already spoiled for us in the trailer, so that's a bummer. Basically trailers these days suck because they think we actually want the whole story told to us before we see it when um, no. We want to be surprised. Now, as I said, there are some surprises later on, but those do seem a bit contrived as well. But also, the movie itself felt incredibly longer than it needed to be. We're at the concert quite a while considering plenty of the movie takes place outside of it in the second half. Not to mention, there's actually a good portion of it dedicated to the musical performances instead of plot. Now I will say, the music was good ngl, at least to me. lol So, that part is a positive. But that also brings me to one of the big negatives: This is a definite nepotism movie. XD The focus on M. Night's daughter's character grows in the second half in a way that had me go, hmmm interesting because it's not remotely believable. Partly because, sadly, Saleka's not a very strong actor imo. She tried her best but making her have a bigger part in the story was definitely a choice (not a very good one) Now, to the biggest positive of the movie: Josh. HE CARRIED THIS THING ON HIS BACK. Like, he was soooo good. He's very much why I can't say I hated this watch. He's what makes it work at all. Definitely my fave performance by him I think. Just deliciously evil. I will say, Allison Pill was really good with what she had to work with too. And you know, props to Ariel Donoghue really being dedicated to playing up the fangirl role as much as she did. She committed. Also, shoutout to Kid Cudi. He's really just a cameo but he def ate his small role. I love him. lol So, at least, acting-wise, there were positives. The concept was cool, it's just the execution (kinda as per se usual why M. Night's movies tend to be a miss for me because they're slightly off in a way that isn't always my thing) but it is decent. I didn't even mind that I paid money seeing it in the theater since it was enjoyable enough. Also, I watched it with an interactive enough audience that it felt like a pleasant experience. Now, I just gotta know, that ending... is M. Night just being silly or is he hinting at a sequel?? Because honestly, it did keep feeling like he genuinely didn't know how to end the movie because it just kept going. There were certain beats where it felt like we reached a conclusion and then, nope. And then we got that. Like, what??? LOL okay. Anyway, this one was interesting. I still have thoughts. So, yeah. That's all.

[inkypipedreams]

An alternate route...

so uh back when I was writing chapter five, I realized very quickly how different things could have turned out. spoiler bc things do get a little spicy up in here, but because I don't want to write that kind of stuff, it's only referenced/implied. Sammy x GN! Reader

   Ever since your dream, Sammy had been very different in his behavior toward you. He’d gone out of his way to make sure you didn’t have to walk very long in the ink and at times like this, would just pick you up and carry you throughout different parts of the studio.

        That didn’t mean you liked it, however, and it usually involved a fair amount of protest on your part.

    In this instance, he hadn’t even said anything as a warning. The two of you split up from Henry, so you couldn’t ask the animator for help. At one point to keep you from yelling his ear off, he covered your mouth. 

   This only made you struggle more until finally the two of you ended up in a miracle station. Only then did the prophet uncover your mouth, pointing silently to the door.

    The excess ink coating the walls and ceiling…the grumbling and growling…yeah, you’d played the game enough times to know when the Ink Demon was near. The miracle station was cramped with the two of you occupying it, but you’d much rather take this than risk being caught outside with the ink demon.

    Being trapped in the studio with the Ink Demon was so much worse than behind a screen. In some way, it reminded you of the alien from Alien Isolation. Sammy’s arm around your waist tightened, and it wasn’t until the hallways no longer showed the signs of the demon’s presence that he relaxed. 

   “How is your new….gadget going to be helpful?” Sammy asked. “I mean, it’s surely an upgrade from last time, but still…”

   You didn’t have an answer for him but took the gadget in question out of your hoodie pocket. 

    “Beats me,” you shrugged. “Who knows how good a music player could be here.”

   “A music player?” Sammy said excitedly. “Seer, your world is so fascinating!”

   “Glad you think so, because I’m getting out and we’re not playing this thing if I can help it,” you said,  pushing the door. Though, it wouldn’t budge. “Uh…Sammy? Why won’t this door open?” 

  In the miracle booth’s cramped quarters, you were already in an embarrassing position. Sammy was pressed against the back wall for you to have space, and you were bending backward into him so that you wouldn’t accidentally open the door. Not to mention how you had to stand to not fall over.

   “Oh…dear little Seer. Are we stuck in here?” He chuckled, reaching past you to push on the door. However, this was one of the rare moments where the doors decided that they were old and didn’t want to open (at least it had happened once you got in the booth). Up to this point, the two of you had tried to give each other at least a small semblance of space, but now Sammy had to brace himself against the stubborn door just to keep from flattening you against it. As a result, his mask bumped into your forehead.

   “Uh…Sammy, can we call for Henry to maybe come and get the door from the other side?” You chuckled nervously, trying to forget why Sammy ended up being the character you liked the most.

   “Why are you, nervous Seer?” He asked, cupping your chin. “There is no danger that I cannot protect you from.”

    Now he was more leaning towards you, and you only hoped the door held enough for you to not fall flat on your back. “Well…uh, it’s a little um…crowded! Crowded in here.”

   “Oh? And do you not do well in crowded spaces, Seer?”

   You shook your head, doing your best to steel your nerves. Ignore the proximity and the fact that Sammy was gifted with a voice as rich as velvet.

     “Your humble prophet does not read minds, Seer. Have your words left you?”

   “No! No, just uh,” you laughed awkwardly. “You’re just uh…really close.”

   The prophet adjusted his body to not lean against you so much; however to do so he had to brace one leg against the door; this leg had to slip between your own. The unexpected friction caused you to gasp, and the pieces fell into place for Sammy.

   “Oh my…does this excite you, little Seer?” Sammy teased, his voice hitting that honey-rich and sultry tone that made your knees weak.

   “That’s…that’s not fair!” You whined, flushed with how it had come out. “How come you aren’t so affected?”

   “Oh, on the contrary dear Seer,” Sammy chuckled. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

    Your mind practically stopped, was Sammy teasing you? His mask bumped against your shoulder as he leaned closer to you.

    “Moments like these are hard to come by, wouldn’t you agree?”

   Your breath came out as a shudder when he gently began planting gentle kisses along your neck. “What’s your…” your train of thought was interrupted as you bit back a sudden gasp as the prophet continued to demonstrate just what you’d been doing to him. "Mm...perhaps a practical demonstration would have to do, hmm!?"

[alyjojo]

April 🌻 2023 Monthly - Pisces

Whole of your energy: 2 Cups

You have a lot of love for someone that you’re holding back because someone has hurt you, or someone is holding back from you because you’ve hurt them, either or. Seems like a family member, it’s possible it’s a same sex connection for some. 4444 or any variation of that could mean something for you in this situation. 4’s are about stability, this seems to relate to communication and the home. Someone may be going through an illness or a tough time and you haven’t spoken to them, so you’re hurt by this and just never started back up again. Or that’s switched. You could be getting an apology. Your meditation was a cute fat panda 🐼 sitting in a room, eating a stalk of bamboo. He was fine with me rummaging around the room, looking in drawers for what this reading is about. He was fine when I left too. You seem to be accepting of things coming and going, it’s not affecting you or what you’ve got going on right now. It’s all fine. With that energy, it could be this other person that’s hurt by your lack of…care? Pisces doesn’t care? What. Strange energy for you. Or it’s possible you just have no idea & aren’t even paying attention, bamboo is delicious 🤔

What’s going on in April:

Queen of Pentacles:

Clarified by the matching King, reversed, and carrying a very heavy burden. Assuming this person is the other one, could be a Virgo, they’ve gone through a lot of hardship they aren’t speaking about. Or if they’re not speaking, that’s why, they’ve got a lot on their plate. This could be a single parent, someone that’s lost a job, maybe a spouse or partner, they’re handling all of the details of their life but there’s a feeling of “just barely”. You don’t seem to know about any of this with 8 Swords, they don’t talk to you at all or about that.

8 Swords:

This is an energy of feeling helpless, trapped, unable to move in any direction. It’s a victim mentality, and they may have been a victim of something, 4 Swords is a time out after 3 Swords, a very heartbreaking situation. If they’ve lost a relationship then it’s due to some outside thing they had no control over, or that’s how they feel. Possibly a 3rd party. So the whole time they’ve gone through this, healed from this, there was no real communication between you. Probably makes the relationship more difficult when they inevitably come back around - Judgement to follow, because in those sort of circumstances, people change a lot. They have & you have.

Judgement:

This person will be making a comeback, 10 Pentacles can show a business being the reason if they were at a distance. This can also show family. They want to have a solid and stable relationship with you again, and Knight of Cups can show them taking kind or even romantic action towards you, being very loving, taking you out & inviting you places. Seemingly out of nowhere. If this is romantic, your person had to end something else first, but now they’re coming towards you trying to have something stable. New Start.

Queen of Cups:

I assume this is you, you’re not interested in competing with anyone for anything, and it’s something you worry about with this person, whether they have other options and take you seriously. 10 Pentacles would suggest so, but then again going from zero contact to 10 Pentacles is kinda much kinda soon. Some people do that, they just know. Temperance here shows you’re more like…slow down. Have patience. We’ll see. You’re the panda chewing on your bamboo when this person rushes in all…let’s get married, go out, move to Taiwan tomorrow, whatever this is they’re doing. You’re unmoved by it. You DO worry about getting too involved too fast, because you’re a naturally loving person, have probably been taken advantage of before just being Pisces, and you’re skeptical of the situation, or them, but do care about them.

Page of Cups:

I can’t tell if this is them or you. There is a message, flirtations, good news, something small offered. Out of nowhere 💯 They rush in and get you all riled up and then rush back out again, this could be a routine at this point with this person, you seem to trust them as far as you could throw them. Or you expect this. That’s why you’re unmoved. Even being skeptical though, I clarified where is this going, and pulled Ace of Cups. That’s a New Start, which you have here, and all of your oracles are very positive. It’s safe to love a little, but yes take your time. They can prove it.

Signs you may be dealing with:

Libra, Cancer, Leo, Gemini, Virgo & Sag

Oracles: ✨

31 Communication

- The clarity, interactivity, and timing of communications is critical.

66. New Start

- Sometimes we must realize that what we have done needs to be discarded and we must make a new start.

44 Home 🏡

This card represents a homecoming of the soul, of finding your tribe, of coming home. The situation you are inquiring about has the potential to be a homecoming - a safe and secure place that both nourishes you and facilitates your growth, whether it be a school, a relationship, a job, or truly a home. Go for it! All paths lead home. Home doesn’t have to be where you grow up; family doesn’t always mean the people of your birth family. Look at an expanded meaning. Family are people who share the same core values and path. Home can mean a place you have yet to visit or experience, but once there, it feeds your soul in a way that gives you no doubt you are home. Alternately, find your safe place. This is where the answers you seek will be found.

We enter into April as:

Sun Sparkler 🎇:

“Integrity is what turns on the light.”

Sun Sparkler reminds us that it is through kindness to others and being of service that we are abundant. Are you living your life as fully as you can? Are you being honest and kind to others? Do you hold the door open for people on the elevator, or let it close? Do you let people merge over in traffic, or pretend not to see them? When we put a blinder on one area of life, it creates the same blind spot in every area. You can’t shut out pain without shutting out pleasure too. Sun Sparkler reminds you of the miracle of honesty, it leads to integrity. You may have done work for another but do not expect a reward, revel in alignment with Spirit, self-esteem is the gift. You’ve been elevated to a new level spiritually, continue to serve others and life will prosper beyond your wildest dreams.

What is to be learned in April: You have two

Princess of Amber 👸🏽:

“I quietly sizzle and shine.”

You are connecting with your passion. It is time to focus on the task at hand and not divert your attention. If you are being of service to others, you will reap great rewards. This is a sign of great abundance with selflessness. Put your eye on the work and not the rewards. You’re also being urged to stand up for what you believe in. If you are being asked to compromise yourself, you must not. You are correct to feel passionate about your position, you know intuitively what a fair request is. When your intentions are good and true, you will always land with two feet on the ground. You may be up against pretty big odds, but you mustn’t give in to what you know is not correct. Others see your worth, it’s time for you to, and have faith that you are doing the right thing.

Salmon Chairs 🌷

“Come sit in my chair and feel my love”.

People, places and events are being drawn to you beyond your wildest imagination. Aim higher, for you will draw even greater experiences into your life. It is time to step up to the next level. All “things” are energy and will be drawn to you when you allow your energy to grow. The Salmon Chairs is being brought to you as a gift, to raise your faith and self esteem. It is a gentle and profound change in the way one relates to themselves, and the world. We create the life we feel we deserve. Often we feel we must do something to prepare, yet Salmon Chairs says “Stay in the light of truth, meditate, and relax - if you drink in the light and allow spiritual wealth, you will be surrounded by material wealth.” This is about subtle action, and receiving is an action. You are being told to sit still and receive the bounty that is coming to you. Salmon Chairs can also signify a love relationship in the wings, it’s your choice to receive it. It may also be a present relationship that’s moving to the next level, both spiritually and physically.

Salmon/Amber may be lucky colors 🧡🤎💗

[wil-is-done]

Irreparable

Inspired by this angsty piece made by my good friend @/madiineko for another one of my good friends, @/funneylizzie. They both make Very Good Art and deserve a follow.

Enjoy! Also, suffer.

-

Summary: Sometimes, scars don't fade. Sometimes, wounds don't heal. Sometimes, one night's mistake can affect you for the rest of your life.

Word Count: 2.382

-

IMPORTANT NOTE: This is a repost.

Two minutes.

That was how fast the night took a turn. How fast the trap was sprung. How fast everything went from bad to worse.

Lili should've known they'd bring backup. Should've known they'd try to surround her. Should've been the one to take the hit.

Raz wasn't even supposed be anywhere near her position. Wasn't supposed to do a damn hero's entrance through the ceiling. Wasn't supposed to push her out of the way.

The mission wasn't supposed to end with the baron getting away. With his body limp in her arms. With her screaming out his name.

-

Two hours.

That was how long she waited outside of the emergency ward. How long she cried, hugging her knees to her chest, until it hurt to breathe. How long she clutched Raz's jacket tight around her, praying to anyone or anything that might be listening, for him to make it.

When Sasha emerged from the door, Lili rose to her feet. When he took off his glasses, the world felt darker.

His eyes were distraught, more than she'd ever seen before.

"He'll live," he said, barely a whisper. "Other than that, I- the damage was-"

Lili didn't hear the rest. She'd barged past him and sprinted inside.

She found Raz on a wheelchair, being wheeled out of a room by a nurse, covered in bandages, but still wearing his battered uniform. The nurse took one look of Lili and wisely decided to turn on her heels and walk away.

Raz was awake, his eyes open, but empty. Raz was alive, but his eyes were lifeless.

"Raz?"

No answer. No hums. Not even a glance in her direction.

Lili approached, gently cupping his face in her hands, gently coaxing him to meet her eyes. Nothing.

"Raz...?"

Her mind reached out to his, grasping for his stupid smile, his infectious laughter, his calming embrace. Grasping for the warmth that he would always carry with him. Grasping for the light that would always be there for her.

Nothing. No smile. No laughter. No embrace. No warmth. No light. What she grasped was cold, barren, empty. What she knew, she loved, she needed, was gone.

Lili collapsed against him. Sobs wracked her body. Tears spilled down her cheeks again.

Raz was here, but he's gone.

-

Two days.

That was how long his family were forced to wait until they were finally cleared to visit him. Psychonautical bureaucracy could be complete nonsense sometimes, keeping his own family from seeing him. One of the many things she'd change once she becomes the Grand Head.

They arrived with Milla. Augustus and Donatella looked like they haven't slept since they first heard the news. Dion and Frazie didn't seem to be faring much better. Mirtala and Queepie were still too young to fully understand what had happened, but they understood it was something upsetting, and that was enough for them to wear looks of confusion and distress. They rushed to Raz's bedside, forcing Lili aside, whether they realized it or not. Lili kept her silence, and chose to wait outside.

They spent hours with him. Lili tried not to watch through the window, but occasionally the temptation wore her down. She'd glance once, and saw Augustus trying to make small talk with his son. Another time she'd glance, and saw Queepie waving a plastic action figure in front of his brother, goading him to play.

Milla stayed, waiting outside the room with her, for a while. Neither of them talked, or even really acknowledged each other, but the silence was nice. It was comforting, to simply exist, and to have their existence be enough to reassure one another. Time passed, and Milla took her leave - duty calls, she claimed. More time passed, until Lili was startled out of her thoughts when a gaggle of nurses walked past her and into the room. Must be time for a check-up. The Aquatos were urged to leave for the moment, and they obliged. With heavy steps and heavy hearts, one after another, they left the room, walking past Lili.

Frazie didn't even notice her. Her eyes were too wet and red from crying.

Dion shouldered her aside. It was deliberate. It stung. It was the least that she deserved.

Mirtala looked like she understood the situation better. The frown etched on her visage was darker and deeper than it should for a girl her age.

Queepie recognized her, and waved with a polite smile. Lili tried, really tried, to do the same, but her hands were frozen and the corners of her lips were impossible to lift. He walked away, pouting, never receiving a smile.

Lili lowered her eyes when Augustus and Donatella walked in front of her. When their shoes stopped, she flinched. She knew this was coming, and slowly looked up. She expected anger, even hate. When she meet their eyes, all she saw was grief, and sorrow. Not just for their son, but for her.

Her surprise must've shown on her face, because the ghost of a smile graced Donatella's lips for a fleeting moment. She leaned closer to Augustus' ear.

"I'll keep an eye on the children," she said, planting a quick peck on his cheek, before leaving after her children. Leaving Lili alone with Augustus.

Augustus said nothing. He simply lowered himself to one knee and spread his arms open, wearing a small, gentle smile. Like a magnet, she was drawn in. Her feet moved on their own. When he wrapped his arms around her, tears flowed down her cheeks once more.

"It's not your fault," he said, gently, over and over again. "It's not your fault."

Lili never realized how much she needed to hear that.

-

Two weeks.

That was how long Raz spent under intensive care. He was treated by the best doctors the Psychonauts could spare. His eyes were still as empty as it were during that first night.

Lili arranged for him to be relocated to the best medical facility the organization had available. His family would always be permitted to visit him, no exceptions. Any expenses would be reimbursed straight from the Zanotto family fortune. Anyone saying Raz was receiving special treatment could go fuck themselves.

The room they placed Raz in was cold. Sterile. Clinical. Nothing about it felt like home. She'd have that changed soon enough.

Lili took his hand in hers, and promised him so many things. She promised she'd visit everyday. She promised the baron would pay, even if it wouldn't bring him back. She promised she'd run out of tears to shed, that she wouldn't let herself wallow in despair.

Doctors entered, Sasha acting as their lead. They weren't here for anything serious, he claimed, simply making sure nothing changed during transit.

Lili was afraid of the answer, but there was one thought that had been buzzing in her head ever since that night. "Will he ever get better?"

"Recovery is possible," one of the doctors said. "The chances are very slim, but it is possible."

Beside her, Sasha quietly scoffed.

When the doctors left, Sasha stayed behind. Lili prompted him to elaborate.

"Calling the chances 'very slim' would be a massive understatement," he said. "We'd have a better chance finding a needle in an ocean of hay."

Her breath hitched. It was exactly what she feared. Tears prickled the edges of her vision, but she pushed it down. She'd already made a promise.

Instead, Lili entwined her fingers together with Raz's.

"We can hope, can't we?"

For a long moment, Sasha didn't answer.

"We can. Of course we can."

Sasha took the spot on the other side of Raz's bed. He'd tucked his glasses in his pocket. His eyes were soft, and kind, and hid sleepless nights wracked with guilt and regret.

"If he returns, we'll be there. Smiling. Like he'd want us to."

Lili stared deep into Raz's dull, lifeless eyes, much as it pained her to do it, dreaming of the day they'd be filled with life again. Gently, she squeezed his hand.

"If not," Sasha breathed, his voice strained, "there are worse places to call home."

-

Two months.

That was how long it took to finish the case. They tracked the baron to a remote island in the Arctic Ocean. Lili personally requested to be part of the assault force. Nobody dared to refuse her.

They briefed her. The mission was to bring him in alive, to answer for his crimes. She didn't listen, or care. They knew. Everyone knew. She'll snap the baron's neck the second she saw him.

Lili touched down on the island like a missile. The baron's security swarmed her, like moths to a flame. And they burned. Anyone who got in her way burned. She tore the island apart, chasing after the baron, until he retreated into a vault deep beneath the island. She could almost laugh. The fool backed himself into a corner.

It took longer than she thought ripping the metal vault's door off of its hinges. Close to three full minutes. Eliminating the token resistance the baron brought with him took half of one. The man had no choice but to face her. She expected him to boast. To talk big about his power, how he would best her and live to wreak havoc another day.

No. He dropped to his knees, and he begged. He had the gall to beg. Spouted nonsense about how he could be useful; with his connections, his intel, his wealth.

Lili didn't break his neck. She broke everything.

The strike force arrived not long after. They paused at the threshold, seeing her with what was once the baron.

"He attacked me. I didn't have a choice," she lied.

Nobody believed her. She didn't need to read minds to know that. But nobody said a word. Funny how that worked.

-

Two years.

That was how much time had passed when she made her three hundredth visit to the facility. Nothing drastic changed during that time. A few minor rotations in staff, the most recent one being a new receptionist around visit two hundred and eighty three. He would always be surprised every time she walked through the front door. A candidate to be the next Grand Head shouldn't be wasting her time here, he'd think. One look from her would be enough to make him think about anything else.

Raz's room was much homier than it had been when he first moved in. It was one of the first things she had done. The stark white walls were replaced with warm, earthy wallpapers at visit ten. Queepie loved to draw, so since visit twenty one, she always made sure to have a box of crayons available for when the Aquatos came to visit. At visit twenty three, they started hanging up Queepie's drawing around the room, and they never stopped since. Milla came by, at visit twenty seven, bringing a pair of lava lamps that matched the wallpaper. Sasha was already there before her at visit forty two, placing a framed photo of Raz in his uniform, taken during his first day as a Psychonaut agent, on his bedside table.

Other people pitched in to add something to the room over time; most of them colleagues and friends, including ones from back at camp. Visit sixty eight, Phoebe and Quentin left behind some merch of their new band. Visit one hundred and twenty five, Clem brought a massive banner filled with hundreds of get well soon messages and hung it up from the rafters. Bobby and Chloe must've dropped by at some point, because at visit one hundred and seventy five, she found a model spaceship with Raz's initials on its side. At Dogen's suggestion, ever since visit two hundred and one, she had a stack of True Psychic Tales issues tucked neatly in a cabinet, just in case.

"Hey, Raz," she greeted as she entered the room, like she'd always do. Like always, no response came, and she'd try to ignore the pang of disappointment in her chest.

Lili sighed. This was getting harder and harder to do.

Still, it was good to see him. It's been close to a week since her last visit. She wasn't able to keep her promise of visiting everyday after all. She made it to one hundred and thirty one visits before she had to miss two whole days, simply because of a dumb security breach forced her family to go on lockdown. It tore her apart at the time, but she held the tears back. The last thing she wanted was to break two promises.

Since then, she was more lax with herself. She allowed herself to skip a day or two, if it simply wasn't possible to fit visiting him into her schedule. Those one or two day gaps became three or four or more as time passed, and her schedule grew more and more hectic. Nowadays, she's lucky if she managed to fit in a visit once a week. It didn't upset her much, though. Somehow, it made her visits feel all the more special.

The two developed a ritual, of a sort - something they'd do every time she visited. After lunch, she'd wheel him out to a hill near the edge of the facility's complex. It had a gorgeous view of the mountainside where the facility was located, and a sturdy evergreen stood nearby - she'd planted it as a sapling to commemorate visit fifty - providing shade should they ever need it.

Lili unstrapped Raz from the wheelchair and lowered him onto the grass. She joined him then, savoring the fresh smell and the way the individual blades tickled her skin. She told him everything that had happened since she last visited; about her ongoing campaign to be the next Grand Head, about Sasha's recently greenlit project, about a new class year starting at Whispering Rock, and more.

Like always, Raz said nothing, and did nothing. Like always, her chest tightened, as if she couldn't breath and it hurt. Like always, the hope she clung to so dearly in her heart slipped further and further from her reach.

Lili entwined her fingers with his, and squeezed.

Lili sighed, closed her eyes, and let herself dream.

Lili gasped when Raz squeezed back.

-

Can't have it be all the way sad without at least a smidgen of light at the end of the tunnel. That's just not how I do.

[antimonasia]

Little Death by OwenGrey

Link to the AO3

Chapter 1

It was quiet at Heelshire manor, days passed since Greta moved here. At times, she could hear the house groan in pain due to the decades it stood ground, her ears picking up creaks that she would explain as the house trying to keep itself from collapsing. This was not a comforting house, and sometimes she would feel paranoid, staring at the end of a corridor as if she saw something move just outside her line of vision. She would shake her head and reject those thoughts from plaguing her mind, instead she would make herself a cup of tea and sit by the kitchen counter. The very odd thing about this house however, wasn’t the noises it made or how it brought chills down her spine if she were to stare too long into the walls thinking that someone was living inside them, no it was the rules she had to follow for this... doll, the owners deemed as their son. 

She did what they had instructed, well some of what they wrote.  

No Guests

Never Leave Brahms Alone

Save Meals in Freezer

Never Cover Brahms Face

Read a Bedtime Story

Play Music Loud

Clean the Traps

Only Malcolm Brings Deliveries

Brahms is Never to Leave

Kiss Goodnight 

Honestly, she half assed most of these and with good reason, I mean who would follow a set of rules for an inanimate object especially when the owners weren’t there to see it? She laughed when she read the word “guests” on the list, that was a funny way of the owners to say that she shouldn’t bring her hookups here. Not that she was that outgoing, to meet someone and be eager enough to fuck them especially after her first relationship. Well, an ex now, which is why she was here, trying to escape from that person. So, as unsettling as this house was, it brought her the comfort that she could at least have the luxury of hiding herself away from him. 

Never leave Brahms alone, she followed that rule. She began to see that doll like a mascot, so she would carry it around and leave it in places she would be in which would mostly be the living room where she would read and the kitchen where she would daydream about the kind of life she could have had if she wasn’t hiding. The music that the owners had was only classical, not the kind that she would find interesting but at least it beats the dead silence that would make her ears ring. “Brahms is never to leave” she never really got that one, the doll is not supposed to leave the house, why? Would it turn to dust? All sorts of questions piled up in her mind the more she stayed but one day, those questions were answered. 

It had been almost two weeks since she had moved now, and she wasn’t that diligent in the “duties” that the owners burdened her with, and as she got up from her bed, her eyes fell on her bedside table with a note on it. She furrowed her eyebrows in a mix of confusion and slight fear, and upon reading what it entailed, her heart dropped.  

FOLLOW THE RULES  

She had never felt fear this way before, but then she tried to rationalize it and thought of the only possible explanation; Malcolm. She smiled and then laughed to herself a bit. This must have been a prank by him, to stir her up , she thought to herself. However, the handwriting in the note was peculiar. It looked as if a child had written those bold capital letters, the lines were too shaky, the O’s were too deformed and overall, it seemed too real to be a fake note coming from a man who delivered groceries once a week. She heard the house creak again, and she got up. Superstition might be a false conception of causation but when you are alone – as alone as she was – you start to reconsider a lot of things. She would start being serious about the rules, steadily getting them more and more into her daily routine. 

She thought of what she would do when Malcolm came by next week. He must have had another set of keys, but he was too bold to come into her room at night, while she was sleeping, maybe even rude at that. How did she not hear him come in or walk around her bed? She shivered at the thought, was she that much of a heavy sleeper?  

 The house was a living entity, its walls were its flesh, its windows were its eyes and Brahms Heelshire was the blood that poisoned this house, making it rot from the inside out. He was watching her, standing behind a wall with a small slit that barely allowed him view of Greta who was immersed in a book she held against her thighs. She would constantly shift position, and at times Brahms could see the slightest bit of skin revealed when her shirt would lift as she moved. He would support himself against the wooden surface and try to minimize how loudly he was breathing behind his mask. She was so enthralling, everything about her behavior, everything about her made her look so inviting and Brahms wanted to take advantage of that. 

No, he wouldn’t. Not yet at least. He savors this part, the observing part, the stalking part. He gets to know her in her most vulnerable intimate moments and sees how she really is when she’s not putting a facade to other people. It was riveting to watch her go on about her day, not knowing that he was there, looking at her. There were times when Brahms was tempted to watch her bathe, he wanted to see what her body looked like completely bare, but he refrained from indulging. He felt too unstable to withstand the urge to break the wall and take her then and there, if he were to see her naked, well... 

He thought it best not to. 

That doesn’t mean he wasn’t inside the walls of Greta’s bedroom, listening to how she whimpered when she touched herself. Oh, he was there but he wasn’t looking through the slit, he was kneeled with his head pressed against the wall, holding his breath so the only thing he heard was her voice. Brahms was not inexperienced, after all Greta was not his first nanny. The reason why he didn’t want to look at her and see her lying in bed with her legs wide open and her hands travelling down her body was because he knew that he wouldn’t be able to control himself. It wouldn’t be the first time he had gone rogue but this time, he wanted to do things right because he wanted to keep her here. Forever. 

Her voice was so mesmerizing, he could hear her change position and then her moans get muffled. He pictured her burying her face into her pillow, gripping it tightly the more she felt good. Would she do the same with him? Would she moan this way, would she try to muffle her voice and grip the sheets as the pleasure rushed through her body, the same way that pleasure was rushing through Brahms at this moment? His hand slithered under his pants, and he exhaled ever so slowly to forbid his presence from being known and began jerking himself off. He heard her getting louder and louder, and Brahms felt incapable holding himself back any longer and got up to his feet at last, his hand still jerking himself off and finally laid eyes upon her. She was... Oh, she was divine. Her eyebrows were furrowed, one hand gripping the pillow behind her head and the other was... she was fingering herself. 

Two fingers were penetrating her, and Brahms couldn’t stop imagining that they were his instead. He felt lost for a second, his eyes stayed focused on her, watching her body arch and her mouth hang open. It was the first time he had felt this amount of obsession with someone, and Greta was eliciting so many things out of him. He tightened his fist around his cock, making the friction more intense, a tiny whimper escaped him, but he was able to hide it between Greta’s moaning. Fuck ... He wanted her, desperately. He wanted to touch her, feel the warmth of her skin against his, make her feel good, be a good boy for her. His gaze never fell from her, watching her orgasm and finally relax, her chest heaving up and down as she tried to come down from the height of her climax.  

Brahms came into his hand, his fingers coated with cum, and he placed his hand on the wall smearing it on the wooden surface as if it had been Greta’s face. He had decided that tonight he would enter her room while she was asleep, and he would try not to alert her. Can you be naughty if you’re never discovered?

Chapter 2

He pictured her on all fours, pressed against the mattress while he gripped tightly at her waist, fucking into her. He wanted to have her screaming, to have her begging. Oh, he wanted to break her, to mold her exactly how he wanted her to be.  

 His pace got harder and more aggressive, he was nearing closer to his release. He finally let his hand touch her thigh, and he gripped it lightly enough to go unnoticed, and he came into his hand. He looked down at his hand that was now coated with his cum and looked back at Greta. He considered it. For just a small fragment of a second, he considered leaving his mark somewhere on her body. But he thought of something better, he took off her underwear slowly off her body, making sure to not disrupt her. Once it was off her body, he wrapped his dick with it and cleaned off any of the remaining cum in his hand. He brought the panties to his nose and inhaled, smelling how her scent was mixed with his and it drove him insane. He wanted to keep it, take it to his room and use it but he wanted her to know that he was here, so he carefully put it back on her the same way it was before, only now she would have a piece of him with her and that excited him. 

Would she notice? How would she react if she did? He desperately wanted to jump out one day and be done with it, remove the mask. But no, he will savor this. 

Chapter 3

She woke up and stretched her body, bringing her consciousness back to reality. Getting out of bed, she felt something weird when she moved, gazing down at her underwear she noticed it sticked too weirdly on her skin and touched the outer fabric to inspect it. 

“What the...” She whispered, feeling the fabric hard and sticky against her fingers. She quickly rushed to the bathroom and took it off, bringing it closer to her nose and as soon as she smelled it, she gagged and threw it in the laundry basket. Was that smell coming from her? Did she need a bath that bad, Jesus... She hopped in the shower immediately after that, thinking it was her own hormones that made her produce the liquid on her underwear. It never crossed her mind it could have been anything else, until she remembered the note. No... It couldn’t be, right? She thought there was no way that Malcolm would do such a thing, but now she was starting to feel actually frightened so she would prepare herself to ask him the next time he would come around and to her luck, he would be coming by today. 

She waited all day by the living room, biting her fingernails. At last, she heard the familiar sound of his vehicle coming to a stop at her entrance and she rushed outside to meet him. Malcolm was standing by his trunk and waved up at her, she rushed towards him in a spite of fury and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, frightening the unsuspecting man. 

“Did you get into the house last night?” She yelled, causing more confusion to spread in Malcolm’s face. 

“What are you talking about?” He questioned, looking down at her with a concerned rather than fearful expression. 

“Have you been getting into my room at night? Answer me!” She said, and Malcolm’s eyes widened. 

“No, of course not. What is going on?” The genuine confusion on his face made Greta relax her grip and step back from him. She looked back at the house, and then brought her eyes to meet Malcolm’s. 

“I’m... I don’t think I am okay.” She said, wrapping her arms around her chest and Malcolm dropped everything and led her inside. He made her tea and sat with her by the kitchen counter. 

“Would you like to talk about what just happened? I mean, you looked frightened, what is going on?” He questioned, staring at her while her gaze hung low. He watched her open her mouth to say something, but she closed it before she let out her thoughts. “I don’t think you could tell me anything that would make me think you were crazy, so tell me please.” He pleaded and Greta felt a sense of safety wash over her. 

“I think there is something wrong with this house.” she said, causing Malcolm’s hair to stand and his expression to shift into shock. “Do you know something?” She asked, her eyes entirely focused on his next words. 

“The townspeople talk a lot about this house and the tragedy that it holds but, I don’t see how this concerns you right now and I think it will only feed into whatever it is going through.” He tried to direct her away from the subject. 

“Has something bad happened?” She questioned, and watched as Malcolm’s eyes became vacant almost as if he was disassociating. 

“It’s only rumors, no one knows if any of that is true.”  

“Tell me...” She pleaded and Malcolm sighed. 

“The Heelshire’s had a son, not that creepy doll they keep in that room but an actual son. We don’t know much of the details but all we know is that a fire broke down in this house.” Greta was glued to every word coming out of his mouth. “We don’t know who caused it but during the fire, they lost their son. Ever since then the house was marked as a bad omen, the townspeople don’t like to approach this place.” Greta was stunned to hear all this. 

“Do you think the same?” She asked. 

“Do I believe in that superstition? No, but I am the only one here that doesn’t. I would like you to refrain from believing this shit, it won’t do you any good.” He paused, his mind bringing back their previous interaction. “Could you please now tell me what happened with you before?” He continued. 

“Did their son die?” She further questioned. 

“They never found his body from what I remember, I was about the same age as him back then. But they held a funeral for him, after that Mrs. Heelshire acquired that doll and well, I think I understand the amount of grief she must have gone through to be like this.” Greta was in deep thought. 

“Wait here a moment.” She said and rushed to her bedroom, taking the note out of her bedside drawer and bringing it back to Malcolm. “I found this one morning next to my bed.” Malcolm took the note and read its contents, shooting a few stares at her. “Is it a joke? Did you write this?” She continued.

“My handwriting may be bad, but not this bad.” Greta’s heart stopped. If it hadn’t been Malcolm, who was it? “Greta... I feel like you have been in this house alone for too long and you’re starting to get detached from reality. Trust me I understand more than anyone.” Malcolm said, holding Greta’s hand as he talked. 

“How about this, I take you out tonight to a pub, you have a drink with me, maybe even get your mind off this place. I know, that being alone here would drive a person insane so, getting out once in a while might do you some good.” He said, noticing the smile that crossed her face. 

“I’d like that.” She replied, the smile remaining on her face. 

“Great, I’ll come by at 7pm, is that good?” Malcolm asked. 

The house creaked.

Chapter 4

Greta returned home late, and after she said her goodbyes to Malcolm, she stood by the entrance mentally encouraging herself to get a grip. Her evening with Malcolm brought a lot of clarity and she understood that he was right to get her out of this place. But once she was back, there was something in her that made her want to run away. She couldn’t quite place it, but it was as if the house was awake waiting for her to come back like a strict parent waiting to scold a child for coming home way past curfew. She opened the door and went inside, turning on the lights and leaving her coat by the coat hanger. The house creaked, making her focus on the sound. She shrugged it off and headed to the kitchen, getting herself a glass of water to quench her thirst.  

She stood by the sink staring at the window in front of her, it was pitch black outside so the only thing she saw was her reflection looking back at her. Suddenly, she saw something move in the reflection by the entrance of the kitchen and she froze in place when she saw someone standing behind her. She didn’t move. 

“Greta...” She heard a child’s voice. “Why did you leave?” It continued with the same childlike voice. Greta was terrified, like a deer in headlights she kept staring at the reflection of a tall muscular man looking straight at her. Why is his face like that? She thought to herself. It was pale too pale compared to the rest of his body, almost like it had been a ghost. He moved closer and Greta gasped, making the figure stop in his tracks. 

“I felt so alone...” There was something weird about its voice, the first words sounded like a young boy and the more he talked the more the voice deepened. “I don’t like it when other people steal my things.” His voice was now completely changed into an adult, making Greta’s body tense and cold sweat started forming at her temples. He had taken a few steps closer to her, Greta’s gaze never moving away from the reflection. 

“You’re not real...” She cried. “Please, please you’re not real...” She sobbed, lowering her head to the sink. She closed her eyes and mentally tried to convince herself that she was going insane, and that she needed to rid herself of these delusions. But when she opened her eyes and saw a set of hands placed between the gaps of her arms, pressed against the sink in front of her she jolted backwards, and her back was met with the chest of this ghost. Her eyes were met with a clear image of a guy in a white pale mask towering over her in the reflection of the window, and her body shivered as she saw the guy’s face approach her from the side. She turned her face away, avoided looking and facing what was happening. 

“I’m real and I’m angry, Greta.” The figure snarled against her ear, making her body shake. “I don’t want you to leave again. You’re mine.” He said, and suddenly Greta felt a hand wrapping around her waist, gripping her hips tightly. A cold sensation crossed her neck, which she quickly identified as the mask of this person being pressed against her skin. She heard him inhale, and then exhale in an exasperated and deprived manner, causing her mind to scream and her fight or flight response to kick in. She pushed him back with enough force to send him stumbling a few steps back, she quickly made a run for it and as she was about to make it through the door, a knife was thrown at her, and it landed in front of her on the wooden surface of the door. She didn’t look at the source, but she heard his screams.

"GET BACK HERE!!"

Greta had no intention of listening to him, and instead focused on running in a different direction and went up the stairs to her bedroom. Once, in her room she looked back and saw the man just coming up the stairs behind her and she locked the door. She heard loud banging coming from the other side, and the door shook as if it was ready to fall down and then, silence. Her heart felt like it would jump out of her chest, and her breathing was erratic. Soon, she began hearing footsteps coming from beside her and she followed that sound, her eyes widening when she realized where the sound was coming from; he was in the walls.

A loud punch resonated in her room, and she saw a hand emerging out of the walls. Quickly, she rushed to open her window, sliding the panel upwards and sat on the edge, looking down. It was high, the landing would hurt she knew but when she looked back and saw the man burst into the room she jumped, landing harshly on a grassy part in front of the house. Her ankle getting twisted by the drop and her head buzzed from the collision with the ground. She got up to her feet and staggered a few feet further away from the entrance of the house, but she didn’t make it far enough before a set of arms grabbed her by the waist and lifted her from her feet. She struggled and after a few seconds of protest she was roughly dropped against the ground and her vision grew hazy. 

Her limbs were too weak to fight him back, and she felt her body being lifted back up and being led back inside the house. She lost consciousness in the arms of a stranger whom she didn’t know if he would have been merciful enough to let her live and she could do nothing else, but hope that she would wake up the next morning. 

Chapter 5

She regained consciousness later in the night, but now she wished that she hadn’t because as soon as she opened her eyes, she was met with the stranger’s gaze looking back at her. He was on his knees against the floor with arms crossed on the edge of her bed and his face leaning against them, presumably watching her as she slept. They stared at each other for some time, until Greta decided to break the silence. 

“Brahms...?” She questioned, not knowing if she was right to assume that this person sitting next to her had been the little boy that the rumors spoke of, well not so little anymore. The man got up, his gaze never leaving Greta’s. She pushed herself up and winced when she felt a pang of pain in her foot. 

“Don’t move.” A child’s voice again. Greta stared at him with bewilderment, how was his voice changing like that? She thought to herself. “You hurt yourself badly. I had to bandage you up.” He continued. Greta felt like she needed to play along in order to make it out alive, so she mastered up the strength to speak. She looked down and saw that she was wearing her night shirt, and only her night shirt. 

“Did... Did you have to change me as well?” She asked, feeling filthy after realizing that he had seen her naked. 

“No.” He said, his voice more mature. “I didn’t have to but, I wanted to see...” Brahms continued, his eyes travelling down her body, and he inched closer to touch her face. 

“Brahms!” She scolded like a mother, making him shiver and move backwards. “It is very late young man. You should be in bed.” She said, and watched as then man cowered his head like a child. 

“Will you read me a bedtime story?” He said, following her as she limped to get to his room. 

“I’m afraid I’m too tired today, Brahms. I promise I’ll read you one tomorrow.” She said and signaled for him to get into bed which he happily complied and got into position. She brought the covers over him and tucked him in, but as she was about to leave Brahms grabbed her tightly by the wrist to stop her. 

“I want a goodnight kiss.” He said, using his child voice again. “You aren’t reading me a bedtime story so, I deserve a kiss at least.” He complained. 

“Y-You’re right Brahms...” She said, mentally cursing herself for being in this situation. “Okay, lay back down.” She placed her hands on the bedframe to support herself as she leaned down and kissed the mask at the spot where his forehead would have been. “There, now goodnight, Brahms.” She finished and limped her way out, closing the door of his bedroom. She took a few steps forward in the direction of her room but a few feet away from here there were also the stairs that she could use to flee. She stood there for a few seconds and lowered her head as she thought of her injured leg. She wouldn’t make it far with this. 

“Greta...?” She heard Brahms' voice again, and she turned to see him standing outside of his room. His body was tense, his eyes were as black as coal and in contrast to the pale white mask he wore, he looked terrifying. 

“Hm? What is it, honey?” She said, trying to stop herself from sobbing right then and there. 

“I’m scared, can I sleep in your bed?” Greta wanted to cry so badly, but she stopped the tears from forming and continued playing along, thinking that it could be the only thing that would save her at this moment.  

“You can’t sleep in my bed like that. You are dirty. We can talk about this in the morning, now go back to bed please.” Her words weren’t reassuring at all for him, and he stepped forward, until he was standing right above her, his face towering over her. 

“If I’m dirty then give me a bath. I want to sleep in your bed tonight.” He said, making Greta’s face scrunch up beneath him as she felt the fear ripping through her, tears finally dropping down her cheeks. “I can’t trust you, Greta. I want you to stay with me.” He said, his voice more mature again. Trust , that’s it. She needed to make him trust her, and then when he would let his guard down, she would make her escape. 

“Okay then, sweetie. Let’s go take a bath.” She limped to the bathroom and filled the tub with hot water. She turned back and signaled to him to get inside, and as she made an attempt to leave Brahms on his own, he grabbed her by the wrist again. 

“I want you to wash me.” He ordered, making Greta look up at him in disbelief. She shakily gave him a smile and nodded, seeing as in this situation she couldn’t really say no. So, she grabbed a washcloth by the side of the tub and turned to the wall. 

“Undress and get in the tub.” She said her tone was more authoritarian than she intended it to be, but Brahms liked it a little too much. He did as he was told and removed his clothes in a flash, eagerly getting himself in the warm water. Greta heard the water surface of the tub being disturbed while Brahms made his way in and slowly turned when she was certain he was inside. Upon looking at his naked body, she froze. He was muscular, sweat dripped down his hairy chest and it was then that she had realized that she wasn’t dealing with a child, but with a very delusional and demented grown man. She averted her thoughts from keeping her from the task at hand and she got closer to him, keeping her gaze away from looking at his crotch.  

She dipped the cloth in the water and lathered the bodywash on it before she started scrubbing his body. She turned her head to the side as she washed his front, making sure to refrain from staring at his lower half. This act felt too intimate, and she was feeling extremely embarrassed and uncomfortable to be doing this. She tried to think of something else, to bring her mind elsewhere and she was brought back to reality after she realized that she had been scrubbing his front for a little too long. 

“Okay, now lean forward for me. I’m going to do your back.” Brahms complied almost instantly, making Greta a little surprised with how eagerly he was listening to everything she asked him to do. When she placed the washcloth on his back, she watched him cock his head to the side and his body relax against her touch. Greta couldn’t make out what exactly was going on but when he saw him grip the side of the tub tightly, she quickly realized that in Brahms mind her touch was akin to affection. She scrubbed his back as fast as she could to get it over with and then hung the washcloth on the side of the tub, as she grabbed the bottle of shampoo.  

“It’s time for you head now.” She said, hinting at him that he needed to remove his mask, but Brahms made no effort to follow what she asked this time. “You have to remove your mask.” She spoke. 

“No.” He said firmly, looking at her with his blank stare. “You cannot see my face.” She wanted to see his face though, to identify him to the police when she would get out of this place. 

“I promise I will close my eyes while I do it.” She paused. “Cross my heart.” She said, while doing the gesture over her chest. Brahms stared at her for a while and after a few seconds he agreed. Greta placed a good amount of shampoo in her palm and closed her eyes. She heard Brahms move his arms out of the water and after a few seconds he told her he was ready. She extended her arm to find his head and he grabbed her wrist guiding her to his hair. Once she figured out where he was, she started scrubbing his scalp with shampoo. She pushed his head down slightly and thought it would be a good idea to open her eyes a little to see the person behind the mask but as soon as she opened them, her eyes were met with his in the mirror across them and she had barely enough time to see his features before her wrist was grabbed and she was violently pulled forward. 

She would have almost fallen into the bath, if it hadn’t been for Brahms’ head that supported her. She tried to move back but Brahms held her wrist tighter and pulled up her shirt, getting his face underneath it. Greta froze when she felt his breath against her chest, and her hand being guided inside the water. She didn’t have enough strength to pull her hand away, as it made contact with his cock. He held her hand into a fist and breathed deeply against her bare chest. 

“You promised you wouldn’t look.” Brahms said, his head still inside her shirt. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-” 

“You promised...and yet,” He paused, and wrapped her hand around his length. “You still cannot be trusted Greta.” He said and licked one of her nipples, letting his tongue playfully wet the area. Greta hunched forward, while simultaneously putting all her might to get away from his grasp. Brahms forced her hand to jerk him off while he sucked on her breast. 

“Brahms... please stop...” She gasped, when he playfully bit her nipple before continuing sucking. That spot was too sensitive for her and stimulating it, made her mind grow weak and her body even weaker at resisting him. His other hand grabbed her breast tightly as he sucked, causing Greta’s legs to get weak and almost losing balance. She grabbed his head, and leaned against him, incapable of concealing the sounds that dared to escape her. Her senses were filled with the stimulation of her nipples being abused and her hand being used for Brahms pleasure. Fuck , her body was reacting in a way that she had no control over, and she despised herself for feeling good at the mercy of this psychopath. She could feel his dick twitch and get harder in her hand as he neared closer to his release, and he quickened his pace. It felt so filthy to be used this way, to be giving pleasure to this man but his tongue was... Christ, it felt so good. 

“Brahms...” She moaned. “Please, stop. Stop...” She felt lightheaded and rocked her head back, her eyes welling up in tears as Brahms came into her hand and he groaned against her chest, finally freeing her from this torment. She leaned forward again, only this time she had no strength to stand or keep herself conscious, the steam from the bath and the intoxication of her orgasm making her mind hazy. The last thing she could remember was the feeling of her feet being swept up from the ground.

Chapter 6

She woke up the next morning with a foreign weight on her body. She pushed herself up and immediately was pulled back down into the embrace. She looked down at the hairy arm that was wrapped around her waist and realized it was Brahms, and as he pressed himself against her she also realized that he was naked. She felt him nuzzle against her back and then mumbled something incoherent. 

“Brahms?” She tried to push herself away from him. “Brahms let go of me.” She said in a stern tone, and he loosened his grip.  

“How did you sleep, Greta?” He was too nonchalant for someone who was keeping her here against her will. She took a moment to respond to him. 

“Why are you not wearing any clothes?” She said, scooching a bit further away from him. 

“It felt more comfortable.” He explained. 

“That’s not...” She stared down at his chest. “That is not polite.” She continued. 

“Did I do something bad?” He said in his child voice. “Am I naughty?” He continued, in his mature one. He knew exactly what he was doing, and Greta felt something in her stomach twist when he used that word in his mature voice. He pushed himself closer to her and Greta leaned back, putting her arms in front of her to shield herself only for Brahms to grab them and pin them above her head. He quickly positioned himself above her and buried his face in her neck, inhaling her scent. “If I’m already being naughty then I should go all the way, make it worth it.” He purred against her skin, making her body shiver.  

Greta felt his dick pressing against her cunt, rubbing along the fabric of her underwear. “Brahms, Brahms!” She kept repeating in an attempt to stop him, but he was not listening to her. He seemed too entranced, too fixated with the idea of getting himself off that it seemed he was hardly even registering anything that she said. She tried to push her legs together so she would forbid him entrance, but Brahms held both her wrists with one hand and moved the other one down to her thighs, gripping them tightly. 

“Open your legs...” He whispered again her ear. “Please, please keep your legs open.” He whimpered, making her stop her protest and as soon as she relaxed, he slid his hand under her underwear, his fingers coming into contact with her wet entrance. Greta gasped when she felt his finger penetrate her, and she turned her head to the side, gritting her teeth. Brahms breathed heavily against her ear, the feeling of warmth on his finger making him hard, thinking of what it would feel like to be inside her at this moment. He wanted to, so badly, but it was more entertaining to build the tension in him, to make himself wait a little longer for it. 

“I want to use my tongue, but I don’t seem to find myself trusting you enough to let go of your wrists.” He said, using two fingers now. “Should I tie you down?” He considered it for a moment and watched Greta turn her gaze back to him, looking at him with a spiteful, and angry expression. “No, I don’t think you will go anywhere. After all,” He paused, letting go of her wrists and positioning his face in front of her cunt. “Even if you do run, I will end up catching you.” He finished and pulled his mask up just enough to let his mouth free, and he dived his tongue into her entrance. 

Greta grabbed his hair and tried pulling him away, but Brahms was tightly gripping at her hips, having no intention of being separated from her. Brahms’ tongue grazed her clit, making her head rock backwards and beg for him to stop. His hand traveled up her stomach and he grabbed one of her breasts, eliciting more and more lust out of her. In better words, Brahms was devouring her, he was making her gasp for air and the sounds that escaped her made her feel ashamed of herself for finding pleasure in that moment. She fisted his hair and watched him suck and lick her cunt as if his life depended on it. 

“Stop, stop, please...” She moaned, her hips moving alongside Brahms’ movements. He pulled back and as she continued laying down, he brought his dick in front of her mouth. She placed her hands on his hips and turned her head to the side, forbidding him from going on with this, but Brahms was too far gone. He grabbed her face and forced his way into her mouth, moving his hips as he fucked into her throat. Greta gagged when he felt his dick hitting the back of her throat and had to turn her head to the side to take a breath. She coughed, tears slightly building themselves in her eyes, but Brahms gave her no time to get used to it, he pushed himself into her mouth again, this time slower. She looked up at him, her eyebrows furrowed, whining and gagging uncontrollably from Brahms’ rough treatment. 

“Ah, that feels so good. Your mouth feels so warm.” He whimpered, moving his hips harder the more Greta whined against his length. She tapped at his thighs and Brahms pulled back, watching her cough and try to regain her breath. 

“I can’t... please... let me do it.” She said, her voice sounding too sultry for Brahms’ sanity. He did as he was asked, and pulled back, allowing her to get on her knees.  

Greta tried to regain her composure. He would have killed her then and there if he hadn’t stopped shoving his cock down her throat like that. If this was to happen, it could at least happen on her own terms. She wrapped her hand around his length and began jerking him off, but Brahms was too impatient and grabbed face pushing himself in her mouth but made no further movements. Greta looked up at him as she bobbed her head up and down, managing to take only half of Brahms’ length. He gripped her hair into a fist, rocking his head back as the sensation of her tongue around his dick made him reach closer and closer to his orgasm. 

“Greta...” He whined and hunched a bit forward. He was enjoying himself, lavishing this moment, his dick twitching into her mouth. Greta felt his impatience, his need for release and tried to move her head up and down as quickly as possible to get this over with. Her jaw was starting to feel sore, and her movements became sloppy, exhaustion plaquing her body as she drove Brahms over the edge. She didn’t like this, she didn’t want to do this but, there was something about the way he whined her name and whimpered when he felt pleasure by her that made something in her mind reconsider. All morality in her was thrown out the window, her brain went blank, and her eyes became vacant of all life as she felt him finish into her mouth. 

Brahms shoved his dick down her throat, his cum going all the way down her throat and Greta rolled her eyes back, feeling at the mercy of the man. He was panting, holding her cheeks as he pulled himself out and held her chin up to him, looking at her as she tried to swallow down the thick liquid. He sat on his knees, now with a bit of clarity he realized that he had crossed the line and that she was not satisfied with his behavior.  

“I’m sorry.” He said, and Greta’s eyes widened when she looked back at the masked man, witnessing him being profoundly apologetic of his behavior with his head hanging low. She couldn’t understand him, one minute he is rough and relentless with her, the next he is apologetic like a child that has done something wrong. Trust , she remembered. She needed to build his trust and keep the act going if she wanted to survive. 

“When you want something, you should communicate first. It is not right to take something whenever you want it.” She said. He looked at her with bewilderment as if he had never taught before about consent and Greta realized at that moment that she was talking to someone who was locked up inside the walls, with apparently no knowledge of the outside world. He probably thinks that it’s normal to not ask, to just take and use anyone to his liking, but something about his apology made her think that perhaps he does understand to some degree that he shouldn’t be doing this. 

“I’m hungry.” He said, looking down at his stomach. Greta thought of something when he said that, as if a lightbulb had gone over her head.  

“Alright, let’s get dressed first then, shall we?” She made the attempt to push herself off the bed and get to her wardrobe, but she remembered that she was naked and held the sheets up to her chest. “Brahms, would you mind letting me dress myself?” He didn’t get the hint. “Alone?” She continued. 

“I don’t trust you.” There it is again. She faked a smile and tried to think of a response. 

“You can wait outside my room. I won’t go anywhere I promise. Besides, I can’t jump from the window anymore.” She hinted at her injured foot. Brahms took a deep breath and complied, getting outside of Greta’s room, closing the door behind him. Fuck, fuck, fuck. What the fuck , she cursed herself mentally. "Okay, get properly dressed and when we go downstairs and make breakfast, I’ll make a run for it , she thought to herself. She didn’t even consider her injured foot, but she felt that she could pressure herself enough to get far away from here. Malcolm won’t be here for another week. Malcolm... She imagined him coming here, taking her away.  

She finished getting dressed and it was now time to prepare herself for what she planned to do. Opening the door, she immediately saw Brahms standing behind it, waiting patiently for her. She gave him another fake smile and averted her gaze, as he was standing naked right in front of her. 

“Okay, let’s find you some clothes.” She thought of his parents’ room, perhaps they’d be able to find him some clothes there. He followed her as she limped through the hallway, getting into the master bedroom. Brahms looked around; it was the first time in a long time that he had gone inside. They usually didn’t let him come in, so he was reluctant to enter. Greta told him to come inside, and searched into the wardrobe for something that would fit him. His father didn’t have much casual attire, but she found a sweater and some pants that would go along with it. She placed the outfit on the bed alongside a pair of briefs and attempted to leave him at it, thinking it might give her some time to execute her plan, but Brahms got ahold of her wrist. 

“Dress me.” He said, making Greta swallow and feel like she had lost a chance at escaping, but it was not over yet. She could still find another time. She went back to the bed and handed Brahms the briefs, turning around to give himself the space to put them on himself. After that, Greta told him to sit by the bed so she could put the pants on him. Brahms complied and sat by the edge, looking at Greta’s every movement as she shuffled around to get the pair of pants and then kneeled to put his legs through them. She then instructed him to get up so she could pull them up, and in the position she was in, she was met with Brahms’ crotch. She turned her head to the side and shakily got up, pulling the pants up with her. 

Her foot hurt when she applied any amount of pressure and she winced slightly when she tried to keep herself standing. She walked again towards the bed and fetched the light blue sweater, instructing him to lower his head so she could pass the hole through his head. He leaned closer to her, his eyes never leaving hers as he bent down, making her feel slightly anxious. Then, she held the sweater sleeves so he could pass each arm through and that was it. He looked down at himself wearing his father’s clothes and looked back at Greta. 

“How do I look?” He asked, waiting for positive affirmation from her. 

“Stunning.” She said and formed another fake smile. Her heart began to race as she thought of what would follow after this. When they would reach the stairs, she would push him as hard as she could and then she would sprint down the stairs to her escape. She was terrified, but she had to keep this act just a little longer. “Let’s go downstairs.” She said and began walking towards the stairs. She felt him walk behind her, she could feel his gaze piercing daggers through her and tried to ignore it. They reached the stairs and as Greta was about to make her move, Brahms took her in his arms, lifting her from the ground. 

“W-What are you doing?!” She asked, a hint of despair in her voice. Brahms looked at her for a second, his eyes piercing and cold as he walked down the steps. 

“Your leg is hurt. Stairs might be a challenge for you right now.” He said. 

Greta felt something from Brahms, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking of doing, and he made sure to not let her plan come into fruition. She felt dread building in her chest when they passed through the front door and went into the kitchen. Her opportunity was lost, and who knows when the next time will be when she’ll have the chance to escape. She wanted to cry but did her best not to show it, but Brahms caught on as he sat her down on one of the kitchen chairs. He leaned closer to her with one of his hands on the table as he got inches away from her face. 

“You will stay here.” He said, his gaze unforgiving, merciless. Greta tried with all her might not to start sobbing then and there.  

“Brahms... I won’t leave you-” She was interrupted mid-sentence. 

“Don’t lie to me!” He banged his fist onto the table and Greta shivered, memories of her ex-relationship waving through her. “You wanted to leave, I could tell!” He continued yelling, his voice making her body shiver in fear. 

“Brahms please...” She felt the tears prickling her eyes, and she lowered her head in defeat. “I beg of you please...” She sobbed, pushing Brahms away. He got ahold of her wrists and pushed her onto the table, her face pinned against the cold wooden surface. 

“You will not leave! Not ever. You are mine.” He said, his words sounding deranged and his behavior even more unhinged. He pulled her pants down and pushed her head harder against the table as she struggled. 

“Brahms, I’m sorry. I promise, I won’t think of leaving you ever again.” She pleaded, trying to calm him down from his frenzy but it was to no avail. She felt his dick probing at her entrance, forcefully making its way inside her, and she winced from the sting of the intrusion. “Brahms please don’t, it hurts... it hurts...” Greta could hear him breath heavily, as he hunched forward his masked face now hovering next to her ear. He stopped, and made no further movements, wrapping his arms around her waist and holding her into an embrace. 

“I’m sorry, Greta...” He said, his voice shaking. “I don’t want to lose you.” He finished, and Greta let the tears drop down her cheeks. She felt hopeless, her mind pictured her remaining a prisoner to him, having to live with this monster for as long as he was alive. She felt him breathe against her neck, inhaling her scent and his dick twitching inside her with anticipation. She placed a hand on his head and caressed his hair. She felt pity for him, even though she had every right to want to leave, she began sympathizing with him. Two broken souls cannot mend one another, but they can understand each other, they can bond.  

Brahms pressed his mask against her cheek and moved his hips, making Greta hold on to the table. He grabbed her waist as he fucked into her, pounding her progressively harder with each thrust. Greta gasped for air, feeling her insides getting filled to the very brim, her walls stretched by Brahms’ girth. His thrusts were too violent, each slap of their hips hitting her deep inside, making her mind grow hazy. 

“You.” Slap . “Are.” Slap . “Mine.” Slap . Greta moaned, feeling her stomach grow hot, as her insides were being ravaged. She extended her arm backwards, attempting to stop him from further going on with this but Brahms held her wrist and pushed her arm behind her back, landing a hard spank on her ass. Greta whined in pain, and Brahms landed another slap on her cheeks, redden them more and more. She arched her back and closed her eyes, the sensation of his dick hitting her insides with this visceral force and his words that dripped with possessiveness drove her to edge, making her lose her sense of stability. 

“I can’t... Brahms... I can’t...” She moaned, Brahms’ thrusts getting more erratic the more she begged. His hand slithered on her throat and squeezed her, as he pounded into her, forcing an orgasm to build inside her. He whined her name into her ear, his words holding a ravenous desire for release, and Greta felt him nearing close. “No... Not inside, please... not inside...” She tried to speak, Brahms’ hand gripping her throat made it harder for her to articulate her raging thoughts. Brahms had no intention of heeding her words, he wanted to make her his, he wanted to forbid her from forgetting that she belongs to him.  

He was desperate; an overwhelming urge to exhibit his infatuation brewed inside him, making him lose himself, disregard all sense of reason. As powerful as he felt for having her pinned on that table, moaning from the pleasure he was influencing out of her, he felt just as weak against her. He was enamored, completely entranced by her, he imagined himself becoming her slave, giving her everything she desired. At this moment, Brahms felt at his weakest, most hungry, most enslaved, by her. He felt his orgasm reaching its peak and in the spur of the moment, pushed himself deep inside her, making her rock forward from the intensity. 

She whined, feeling his dick reach deep inside her as the thick warm liquid filled her to the very brim. She fell onto the table, her legs unable to support her anymore and Brahms noticed her exhaustion and wrapped his arms around her chest, pulling her up against him. She rocked her head back, breathing deeply as she came down from the peak of her climax, the sensation of Brahms’ hips slapping against hers still ringing inside her even after long they had stopped. Her body was remembering the feeling of being filled, her cunt pulsating from the pleasurable torture she was put through. They stayed there in that embrace; Brahms gripped her hips and pressed himself harder against her, his behavior making it known to her that she had no other place to be, no other purpose in her life than to fulfill his needs of companionship. 

Greta turned her head to face him, and she saw the desperation behind his eyes, his need for intimacy. A part of her died that day, and she became something else, someone who could remain, and she entered the maze with no precaution or will of ever getting out. 

[bimboamyrose]

Unfamiliar (Ch. 13)

Ch. 13 - Equinox ☆ Unfamiliar - A Metamy Fanfic

First two chapters ☆ Previous (Ch.12)

♥ Artwork by @mmm-asbestos​  ♥

(Left some notes at the end in regards to the updating the fic)

Ch. 13: Equinox

As her coffee brewed, Amy set out two home-baked muffins for breakfast, adding a small bowl of fruit to share. Sonic had plopped himself on the couch the moment they walked through the door and she’d offered to share some breakfast as long as he was there. Now, as she poured them each a hot mug and called him over to eat, she received no response. Amy peeked ahead into the living room to find Sonic fast asleep on her sofa. She clicked her tongue in annoyance. But he hadn’t slept all night, which worried her, so she thought it best to let him lie there a while. She didn’t have anywhere to be until past noon, anyway..

Amy stepped outside to enjoy breakfast on her back porch so as not to disturb her snoozing friend. She looked up at the clear sky and wondered vaguely why Metal hadn’t yet returned. The main issue on her mind, however, was the conversation she’d had with Sonic on the way home. She couldn’t remember a time when he was so high strung- not that he would ever let on. But Amy could feel the anxiety in his dialogue and body language as he seemed to get ahead of himself, frequently outpacing her and hardly taking a breath between words. It was ironic, asking him to slow down; but he’d wanted to walk, after all. So he would apologize, take a breath, and continue speaking until he steadily got too quick to keep up with again. It was making Amy tense.

They discussed what they thought Eggman could be up to. Mostly, Sonic shared a dozen increasingly dubious theories until Amy finally managed to get a word in. “Why don’t we just ask Eggman?” she suggested.

“And you’re calling my ideas crazy,” he chuckled in response. “You think he’ll just tell us? What if he traps us?”

“He’s avoiding trouble for now. Maybe we can sniff something out even if he doesn’t tell us the truth.”

Sonic pondered on it for a moment before snapping his fingers. “I bet we can get him to lead us to his real base. Then we can plant one of Tails’ data reader things on his computer.”

Amy nodded. “That might actually work. And Eggman’s not exactly the hands-off type, I bet we’ll find him at the construction site at some point.”

“Let’s ask around,” Sonic nodded, before proudly adding “Pretty good idea, Ames.”

She giggled back at him humbly, somewhat flushed over the compliment. They agreed to work out the details the next day as Amy still had to get ready for the festival. Sonic looked surprised. “That’s today? Is that why you were up that hill?”

“Yeah, I was doing this silly ritual,” Amy replied as indifferently as possible. “You really didn’t know? How’d you find me?”

It was Sonic’s turn to look sheepish. “When you weren’t home, I kinda just ran around the valley looking for you. I know you’re an early bird and all…”

“Not that early. Well, not usually,” Amy laughed. It was a shame, though; she thought Sonic had at least remembered that she’d told him about the equinox and perhaps had some clue of where she would be.

With that, Sonic offered to carry her the rest of the way home in his usual impatient manner. Once there, he sleepily asked for a cup of coffee but was out like a light before he could drink it. It had been ages since Sonic crashed at Amy’s house. Normally, she enjoyed his company in the morning, but it felt awkward now that she no longer lived alone. Staring off into the sparkling sea, Amy sipped from her mug absently and tried not to think about how much her feet ached from the downhill hike in her questionable footwear.

The familiar electric buzz of Metal’s engine could be heard above. Shielding her eyes as she looked to the sky, Amy waved him down to join her. “Hey Metal. Wanna sit?” she called out as he landed. He was headed for the back door when she continued, “Wait! Sonic’s napping! Let’s hang out here so we don’t wake him.” Metal marched over incredulously and sunk into the seat with crossed arms. Amy pouted back at him. “You okay?”

He looked ahead into the ocean with a slight shrug. The interruption earlier had left him irritable. What’s more, he had questions and wanted to get something to write with, but Sonic was somehow getting in the way of that, too. 

“Don’t be so grumpy,” she chuckled. When he refused to acknowledge her, Amy scooted her chair closer to him. “Come on, it’s such a nice day,” she sighed, resting her head gingerly on his shoulder. 

It caught him off guard and Metal stiffened at her touch, stifling his whirring turbine in the hopes Amy wouldn’t notice. If she did, she made no mention of it, only continuing to lean on him gently. “Maybe I’ll take one later, too,” she yawned. Metal relaxed his body gradually and turned his head in her direction.

He wanted to bring up what she had begun to tell him that morning, but he wouldn’t push Amy in her groggy state. Her heart rate had been decreasing steadily and her eyelids fluttered as she rubbed her arms against the cool breeze. He would have let her sleep if he thought she’d be comfortable, but he recognized his exceedingly firm shoulder wasn’t much of a pillow. Before Amy could fall asleep completely, he rose, picking her up in his arms. The sudden movement surprised her, but she was too tired to complain. Even growing used to his care, however, Amy couldn’t keep herself from becoming at least a little red-faced when she was met with such tenderness. She hid her face away and her words came out muffled. “Are we going inside?” He nodded as he made his way toward the back door. “Don’t wake Sonic…” Metal was glad she couldn’t see him rolling his eyes. Fair enough; he could be quiet if he wanted to. 

Sliding the door open slowly, Metal tiptoed across the house into the bedroom, somehow keeping from expressing his displeasure as he passed Sonic snoozing on the couch. Amy smiled affectionately as he lowered her onto her bed. “So warm!” she kicked off her sandals and buried herself under the sheets immediately. “Thanks for taking me everywhere,” she murmured. “I hope it’s not too much trouble…”

Metal took a seat on the floor at her bedside, leaning on the nightstand and waving a hand flippantly; as if carrying such a lightweight would be cumbersome to him. Besides, he felt it was the least he could do, but opted not to start a dialogue with her while she tried to rest. It was almost 9:00 AM when she was asleep, and Metal set his alarm for 11:00. He needed to recharge as well, so he went idle, thinking it best to conserve what energy he had until he reached Tails later. He expected to come back online just before 11:00- but a voice awoke him about half an hour earlier than that.

“Amy, you here?” Sonic called from the other room. Metal shot up and past her doorway to address him. “Oh, Metal. Where’s Amy?” he asked, rubbing his eyes. Metal held a finger up to his own face as if to shush him.

Having Metal scold him for making noise in his friend’s home was surreal, but Sonic couldn’t deny how strangely pleasant it was to know Metal was taking care of Amy, just as she’d done for him. It didn’t mean he’d let his guard down, however. 

He stretched silently under Metal’s unblinking gaze. The breakfast Amy had set out earlier caught his eye, so Sonic snatched up the muffin as he headed out the back. “Gotta get going. Tell Amy thanks for me,” he mumbled. Metal followed him, determined to shut the door quietly himself. Halfway out, Sonic paused and turned back to him. “Got a question. Are you gonna stick around? Since you and Amy keep looking out for each other...”

Metal’s eyes darted before settling downward, looking bitterly toward the ground. He had no answer.

“Hmph. Well, think about it.” Sonic took a bite of his breakfast and gave a wave of his hand before darting off. Metal softly slid the door closed after him.

Think about it. All Metal ever did was think about it, but there were questions that needed answering. He intended to ask Amy to continue her story later, and the sooner the day went by, the sooner, he hoped, there would be answers. It was 23 minutes before the alarm went off. Then Amy would get ready. Then he would take her to her event. Then he’d see Tails. And then-

“Did Sonic leave?” Amy murmured sleepily. He turned to find her leaning on the bedroom doorway, wiping the sleep from her eyes. 

How dejected she looked. Sonic left without a thank you or a goodbye even after Amy dropped what she was doing to attend to him. She’d done it without hesitation. What’s more, she inconvenienced herself to keep the house quiet and he couldn’t be bothered to do the same. Metal felt aggrieved on her behalf- he knew the importance that morning’s ritual had for Amy, didn’t Sonic? Weren’t they friends? All Metal could do was nod back at her.

She rested her cheek against the doorframe. “I guess he had somewhere to be....”

Metal watched as Amy rubbed her sore feet together when a resentful thought came to mind; She would have been better off coming home with him. He wished she hadn’t left his side so readily when Sonic showed up.

“I should freshen up.” Amy disappeared into her room once more and Metal snatched his book from the coffee table, making his way outside in a huff. He just wanted to get the day over with.

He was just finishing the last pages of the novel when Amy emerged some time later with her shawl in one hand and a threaded needle in the other. She nestled herself into her chair and greeted Metal with a silent grin.

Metal  turned his attention to her mending. She ladder-stitched her way up the tear slowly, neatly- yet the stitches remained visibly all the way up. When she got to the end of the torn part, Amy pulled her thread tightly and brought the fabric together, the stitches disappearing under the fold. Metal cocked his head toward her work upon seeing the technique, causing her to giggle. “Neat trick, huh? Told you it was an easy fix.”

Metal understood the trick now. It was an interesting procedure, but simple all in all. He laid back again slowly, considerably calmer than he’d been when Amy came out of her room.

Amy finished the mend with a knot, snipping the thread with a small pair of scissors. “Sorry about earlier. Sonic can be a little…” she waved her hand around vaguely with a sigh. He looked ahead with a shrug. “You finished the book! Interesting, huh?”

After a long journey, the hero returned home and eventually reunited with his family. It’s a happy ending if one chooses to ignore the epilogue where he’s killed in battle sometime later. Metal sank down further, tossing the book aside as Amy stifled a snort. “Nothing’s as simple as it seems, I guess.” They sat together another few minutes, enjoying the scenery and tepid weather before heading off.

-----

Amy’s eyes widened as she took in the sights of the equinox festival. Vendor booths offering jewelry, crystals, and enticing snacks lined one side of the large forest clearing while a series of colorful tents lined the other. Several small groups of people sat in discussion circles and exchanged items. Some young girls hung garlands and lights from the trees, presumably to be used in the evening for the closing ceremonies. Amy had never seen so many people practicing in one place. “They have- oh, and look! Don’t those look cool?” she didn’t know where to start.

It intrigued Metal to see her so excited. They’d arrived early, so he gestured for her to take the lead. Amy took hold of his outstretched hand and skipped toward the booths with such zeal that she pulled him along without his input. Something about her fervor really seemed to increase her strength.

As she perused through the first handful of booths, Metal could hear some people whispering and noticed as they gestured toward him. He was ready to feel annoyed over the situation, but their enthusiastic smiles and looks of interest were certainly… different from what he’d experienced in town days earlier. No one here appeared taken aback, just excited.

“Hey, what do you think of this?” Amy picked up an earthy, leather-bound journal and held it up to him. “Touch it! It’s so smooth.”

He hesitantly brought his palm up, gently making contact with the book. It was surprisingly pleasant to touch. Metal carefully rubbed the cover between his thumb and forefinger, enjoying the supple texture.

“It smells so nice- oh, I guess you can’t really tell, though…” Amy sheepishly replaced the journal on the booth when the girls who had been decorating the trees earlier skipped up behind them in a fit of giggles. Amy beamed back at them. “Well, hi! Aren’t you cute?” 

One of the girls bashfully handed Amy a white daffodil. “To match your dress!”

Amy strained to keep her composure. “Oh, my… Thank you!” She took the flower with a grateful smile- It was all she could do to keep from squealing and tearing up joyfully.

“This one’s for you,” another girl said, reaching up to hand Metal a long stem of bluebells. 

He froze, eyes shooting back toward Amy nervously, who nodded keenly back. Metal reached down, mindful of his claws, and took the stem in both hands with some bewilderment. Now what? He looked back to Amy, who was giggling at him playfully. 

The first girl clapped. “He likes it!”

“Can you help us, mister?” another asked, already pulling on his leg.

“You’re so tall!” the girl who’d handed him the flower pointed a finger up at Metal.

Overwhelmed at all the little hands, Metal looked from one girl to another before relenting. His vision shot back towards Amy a final time as he made his way across the clearing with the children laughing and hopping around him. She held her face in her hands merrily- He supposed it was meant to be encouraging.

That was so cute… Amy thought. She took a deep breath and turned back to the stationary booth. The woman who stood at the other side leaned in to address her. 

“Don’t believe I’ve seen you around before. Welcome!”

“Oh! Thank you,” Amy returned. “Yeah, it’s my first time.”

“What do you practice?”

“Tarot, mostly.”

“Oh?” The woman raised a brow. “I thought you might be a mind-reader.” When Amy’s confusion made its presence aware on her face, the woman continued. “That tall fella that was with you, you have a psychic connection, no?”

Amy was confused. “No? I’m not gifted with telepathy or anything...”

“Ah.”  The two looked at one another awkwardly for a moment. Then, suddenly, they both burst into laughter and the tension disappeared. The woman’s initial reaction was strange, but Amy was just thankful that people were being kind to them here. “So you’re just close friends, then?” the woman asked.

Amy beamed at the question. “Getting closer by the day. We’re kinda roommates.”

“Where does a gal even find a mechanical roommate?”

“It’s a long story,” Amy chuckled. “Hey, do you think you could point me in the direction of the wisest tarot reader here? I kinda need some advice…”

“Wisest? Well…” she raised her chin toward the line of tents. “Check that light purple one. I think you’ll find what you need there,” the woman winked.

They chatted for a while longer and Amy thanked her, promising to come back later in the day to take another look at her supplies. She spotted Metal at the other side of the clearing, the gaggle of little girls cheering as he extended an arm to hang a floral garland far higher into the tree than anyone expected to see one. She approached them with a bemused expression. “I don’t think it has to go that high…” 

Metal made a sarcastic head-bobbing motion before bringing the string of flowers down to a reasonable height. The bluebell stem was now tied around his wrist, secured with a daisy the girls must have wrapped around it to form a chain. He reeled his arm back in and tapped a finger against his opposite wrist.

“Right,” Amy turned to the girls. “Metal has to get going. Why don’t I help you with the rest?”

The kids groaned with lament as they said good-bye to their new friend. Metal waved back at them as he backed a safe distance away from everyone. He looked to Amy last, who’s cheerful face seemed to do more to brighten the space than any amount of light and decor they could place around the clearing. It was… uplifting? As he took off, many of the guests made bewildered noises and gestured to him happily, impressed by the sight. Very different from his last encounter. A relief, to say the least.

Amy kept true to her word and helped hang up the few garlands that were left before excusing herself. The shopping and conversations were enjoyable, but the main reason she’d come for the first time was for guidance. She nervously approached the small, lilac-tinted tent with a deep breath. A small bell hung outside the entrance. She pulled on it and as it tolled, a motherly voice beckoned her to enter from within.

“Welcome, dear! Come in.”

The inside of the tent was much brighter than Amy expected- the interior was white, with sheer curtains lining the walls and a faux fur rug topped with a low table. An elderly woman sat on the floor with crossed legs, facing the entrance. “Don’t be shy,” she encouraged. “Please, sit.”

Amy’s nerves let up a little when she entered the friendly atmosphere. She knelt across from the woman and introduced herself. “Hi, I’m Amy. I heard you’re the best around here with tarot.”

The woman bellowed with laughter. “I don’t know about the best- probably oldest!”

A smile spread across Amy’s face as she became more comfortable. “Well, I heard you’re very wise.”

“You could say that,” the woman beamed. “But you’re not here for a reading, are you?”

“Well, not exactly.”

“You’re gifted, yes?”

Amy’s brow curled apologetically. “I don’t think so...”

“Nonsense, I can sense it on you. How long have you been reading?”

She was taken aback at this. Amy had never really considered herself gifted in fortune-telling- she just interpreted what the cards told her. “I started almost ten years ago, but I was just eight. Actually, that’s what I wanted to ask you about-”

“Show me your deck.”

“O-okay” Amy pulled the box of cards from her satchel and handed them to the woman. Rather than take them, she held up a palm and pointed to the table in front of them. Amy placed the box atop it. “This is actually-”

“Your very first deck! How wonderful that you’ve kept it.”

“That’s right!” The excitement in Amy’s voice grew. “You’re so knowledgeable- oh, I don’t think I’ve gotten your name?”

The woman placed her hands on her knees and raised her chin confidently. “Call me Madame.”

-----

The two spent the next hour going over the hand Amy had drawn almost a decade earlier. She recounted her adventure on Little Planet to Madame, pointing out how each of the cards made sense to her at the time, but now she was second-guessing her interpretation. Amy’s confidence waned the more she spoke about the last several years spent with Sonic- constantly chasing after him, the frequent rejection, and how her crush was even waning as it approached its 10-year mark. She left out any details about her encounter with Metal for the sake of time, but thoroughly went over every detail she thought relevant. “We’ve actually become really good friends over the years, and I know he cares about me a lot, but…”

“He hasn’t reciprocated your affection,” Madame concluded. Her kettle suddenly whispered from atop a small camp stove rigged behind her. She poured the hot water over a teapot full of green tea leaves.

“Right…” Amy sighed.

Madame rubbed her chin pensively as she waited for the tea to brew. “This is a bit of an unusual spread for such a young girl, but much of it is accurate.” Amy had recreated the spread on the table, and Madame studied it intensely as she thought. “Certainly the Ace of Wands and Tower manifested- you met someone on this adventure, and it was more than a bit chaotic as you’ve explained it. And the reversed Hierophant seems to describe this man well enough. And as for the Nine of Wands- well, I suppose asking the cards whether embarking on a task is ‘worth it’ can be tricky- it told you there would be trials, but hints to success, of which you haven’t seemed to achieve yet. Now, I am wondering about this…” She placed a bony finger on The Moon. “Bit of a wild card, if you’ll pardon the expression,” she grinned. “You asked the cards what the relationship would be like, correct?”

“That’s right- I took this to mean that there would be a lot of surprises- and there have been! We’ve gone on a lot of adventures together, you could say.”

“And he hasn’t been dishonest with you?”

“Trust me, he’s been plenty honest,” she replied. “He’s not one for ambiguity.”

“I see. Well…” Madame poured Amy a cup of green tea and slid it to her. “The Moon is very mysterious. It can represent surprises and unexpected events, but it could also manifest as a sort of a coping mechanism. It can represent fear- such as the fear of being rejected- and the illusion you use to hide it; A little lie you tell yourself to protect your feelings. Now, you’ve spent a lot of time on the notion that if you hold out, a relationship will manifest. Is that correct?”

Definitely not what Amy was hoping to hear. “I guess so,” she replied unhappily.

Madame nodded. “I have a theory, but I’d like to see if the cards agree. Did you pull one this morning?”

Amy took the cup in her hands nervously and looked down at her reflection in the murky tea. She hadn’t- the morning’s excitement and subsequent exhaustion had kept her from the daily ritual. “No, something came up…”

“That’s alright. Why don’t you do one now?” Madame pushed the deck back into a neat stack and sat back.

“Okay,” Amy nodded, starting the ritual. Madame watched her prepare and shuffle the deck with intrigue. Amy’s connection to her cards couldn’t be denied- she knew them like she knew herself. Resting her hand atop the stack, she inhaled and exhaled deliberately before turning over the top card. The Seven Of Swords sat reversed before her.

Madame smirked at its sight. “I thought so.” Amy groaned to herself softly. The woman was right- the card told a story of honesty, confession, and regret. “Now that I have backup, my dear, I would like to offer some advice- but I believe you should keep an open mind.”

Amy looked bewildered as she swirled her tea around, unable to think of what else to say. This was what she had come for- of course she should be open-minded! She just wasn’t sure if she was ready to hear whatever this wise woman had to say. With a reluctant nod, Amy took a sip of tea and listened attentively.

“This man, he knows how you feel about him, but he hasn’t shown the same interest. It could be that he’s just shy about those things, but…” the woman softened her tone as she leaned in closer. “Have you ever asked him directly?”

Reluctantly, Amy thought about the question. Abundantly clear though her affections were, she couldn’t recall actually asking Sonic if he was interested in her- she admittedly felt like that should be his role. It was possible that he just wasn’t the best at expressing those emotions, but that was probably all the more reason to be direct. “No, I haven’t,” she said finally. 

“I believe you need to face this fear of rejection head-on. If I were you, I would ask him explicitly how he feels.”

Amy sighed. And maybe confirm those fears. “It’s just been so long, I never know when the right time is to get serious, you know? I mean, I’m seeing him tomorrow, but-”

“Then there’s no time like the present,” the old woman smiled wisely. 

“No time like the present,” Amy repeated. She nodded anxiously, knowing it was time.

“Also… I am sensing there is perhaps something else you need to get off your conscience. Am I wrong?”

It annoyed Amy how accurate the assessment was- she was beginning to see why her friends avoided her readings. 

She had every intention of speaking to Metal that morning about a particularly sore memory when Sonic interrupted them. In truth, she was relieved to get out of the situation, feeling ashamed at her own past actions when she remembered; But it was clear she wasn’t getting out of revealing it. “Yeah… I need to, uh, clear the air with a friend.”

“You had a fight?”

“Sort of. It was years ago, and-”

“And?” Madame leaned in, gesturing to Amy encouragingly.

“And… There’s no time like the present,” Amy exhaled. 

“I think you know what you have to do then.” 

The disheartened girl couldn’t seem to get another word out, so Madame continued gently. “You are very gifted in the divine arts. To learn so much about your future at such a young age? Incredible! But reading for yourself can be… near-sighted. Just remember to think outside the box with your interpretations. And don’t keep putting off important conversations! Your time is as valuable as anyone’s.”

There was much for Amy to process. She sat hunched over the table, eyes fixed on her deck as she thought about Madame’s analysis. Amy wanted to protest, to say that the woman was overstepping and to cast doubt over her qualifications, but there was simply nothing to deny. She placed her teacup down and stood from the soft rug.

 “Thanks for the kind words, and for your wisdom.” Picking up her cards, she started toward the tent entrance. “I should really get back out there. What do I owe you?”

Madame nodded with a soft hum. “Hm, of course, dear. It was just one card- the conversation was payment enough. Please enjoy yourself. You know where to find me.”

Amy thanked her sincerely and pushed herself through the parted tent opening. She squinted in the afternoon light. A hundred thoughts raced through her mind as she then paced around the gathering site aimlessly. Am I really that scared of rejection? she asked herself. Amy feared she already knew what Sonic’s answer would be, but resolved to find out for good as soon as she had the opportunity. As for Metal, it wasn’t fair to leave him hanging regarding his own memory -she would have to finish what she’d started that morning.

Amy marched several times around the perimeter of the clearing in deep thought until the rumbling in her stomach snatched her from her daze. She hadn’t eaten in far too long. Taking a look around, there were a good number of lunch options, and she really should enjoy the festival while she could. Anything to distract from her vexation. 

With that goal in mind, Amy spent the rest of the afternoon partaking in whatever activities she could. She sampled a few offerings from several lunch stands, sat in on a meditation session, and even joined a group of young women discussing several supernatural topics. By the time evening began to fall, Amy had all but forgotten her session with Madame. She genuinely enjoyed herself there. 

Amy finished her shopping, noticing that many of the vendors were closing as sunset approached. Just as she’d welcomed the day, most of the guests sat quietly, observing as the sky changed from pale blues to bright, fiery shades, and finally darkened to a deep navy as night fell. This was about the time Metal had agreed to pick her up, so she made sure to be ready to go once he arrived. To her delight, however, it appeared that the festivities were just beginning.

A bonfire was lit in the center of the clearing as guests gathered around and arranged mats and blankets for guests to rest on. A band seemed to form out of nowhere and began to play festive tunes while several people formed a chain around the bonfire, skipping around it melodically. Then the chain broke and many more joined in on the dancing as others cheered and sang from the mats on the ground. Amy was in awe- It was her first time witnessing such a thing in person. She was just contemplating whether she should join in when she heard Metal’s engine overhead. 

She swung her arm up at him merrily for a moment before the sight of Metal jerked her back to reality. A knot formed in Amy’s stomach as she remembered her conversation with the old woman, but she did her best to appear normal as her friend landed. “Hey- good to see you.”

Metal held up a palm in greeting. “Did it go okay?” Amy asked him. He responded by bringing a sharp index finger to his forehead. She hadn’t noticed at first, but the paint job on his forehead was now spotless. “You look great, Metal. I’m happy for you.” Amy clasped her hands in front of her demurely. Normally, she would be compelled to take his hand in hers or go in for a hug, but Amy felt self-conscious about it now. The old woman’s words rang in her head when she looked at Metal; she was embarrassed to have kept him wondering about it all day.

Unready and desperate for a buffer, Amy invited him to join her in watching the festivities a bit closer, already inching herself in that direction. “Why don’t we hang out for a little before we go home?” 

It was certainly new to Metal, if a bit unusual. He followed her along, surprised she wasn’t more tired after such a long day. Her heart rate seemed slightly… elevated? But she was probably just excited about the festival. 

Amy sat on a free mat closer to the fire. It was pleasantly warm at that distance, combating the cool night air. She rubbed at her arm, unsure if the chill she felt was due to the weather or her nerves. Metal joined her soon after, stretching out his legs as he sat next to her. Staring starkly ahead, Amy tried to focus on the fire and music in vain. But all that ran through her head was the search for a tactful way with which she could bring up the subject again. She stared silently into the flames. Her vision was fuzzy.

The loud music and crowd of dancers were new to Metal. He doubted he’d ever been close to this type of atmosphere even before he lost his memory, and it was a bit overwhelming seeing everything that took place at once. Even as large groups danced together, others twirled around in pairs, and still more people chatted and laughed as they observed. A young man was weaving between groups big and small, and Metal saw him taking a close look at the palm of a woman’s hand. And there he and Amy were, sitting quietly on a mat, observing. It was strange to him that Amy was so hushed when he fully expected to hear all about what was happening around them. He nudged her on the shoulder with his elbow and she practically jumped.

“Ah- you startled me! Sorry!” the flustered girl fidgeted with the front of her shawl, avoiding eye contact. This shouldn’t be so hard...

Metal was somewhat startled himself. It was worrisome to see Amy so jumpy; she hadn’t even acted that way when she was nervous about the team meeting. Perhaps the loud atmosphere was making her skittish? The young man Metal had seen earlier came up behind them just then, offering Amy a hand.

“Would you like to dance, miss?” he inquired politely. Turning to Metal, he continued. “I hope you don’t mind if I borrow her for a bit.” Metal looked at him with some skepticism. He wasn’t sure what the man had been doing when he was making rounds, but he didn’t seem to be asking anyone else to dance.

“Uh, I’m not much of a dancer,” Amy lied. In truth, she was just too uneasy to enjoy it.

“The moves are simple,” he insisted.

She shook her head. “I’m okay…”

With a coy smile, the young man squatted next to her. “How about a palm reading, then? You look like something is vexing you.”

Amy clicked her tongue incredulously. She didn’t want to be rude, but what a presumptuous thing to say- even if it happened to be true. “No, thank you. I prefer the cards.”

“Ah, a tarot reader. Well, come find me if you change your mind,” he said as he stood up. Before long, he had moved on to solicit another girl.

“Pft. Palm reading…” Amy hadn’t meant to say it out loud. “I mean, not that I’m judging.” She was absolutely judging.

Metal tilted his head with a confused look. “Oh, it’s just another form of divination. I don’t really get it- not like the lines on your palms change at all. What’s there to read?” Metal found the uncharacteristically snarky response amusing. He held out his own palm to her assertively. “You want me to give you a palm reading?” she chortled. “Okay…”

Hesitantly, Amy took Metal’s hand in one of hers, observing the uniform grooves that made up the interconnected plates in his hands. “Well, you have quite the lifeline,” she smirked, using her finger to trace where the base of his thumb was attached to the palm. “It means you’re going to live a long, long life. Maybe forever,” she shrugged playfully. Metal made a long tone that made him sound interested. It made Amy laugh a bit as she continued the ruse. “I guess that would make this your heart line- ah-” An arbitrary thought introduced in her mind. Robots don’t have hearts, how would he have a heart line? She scoffed aloud softly. They don’t have any palm lines! Don’t be stupid, she reasoned with herself.  Metal leaned his head closer to hers inquisitively and she continued, more timidly. “A-also long… I don’t really know what that means, though, sorry.” She let his hand slip out of her palm gently and went back to avoiding eye contact.

It wasn’t what he’d become used to with her. Metal scooted closer and nudged her softly with his shoulder. She could rest her head if she was tired, he thought, but he didn’t get an immediate response out of her. 

It’s time. Amy looked to him hesitantly. “Do you want to head home? I think we should talk.”

The words made Metal nervous. He had an idea of what was coming next. Agreeing, he offered a hand getting up. She pretended not to see it and rose on her own.

Once they’d gone past most of the celebrating people and reached the edge of the clearing, he offered her a hand once more. Amy looked to it, wrapping her shawl tighter around her shoulders. “Actually, do you mind if we walk?” Amy wasn’t confident she would be able to convince herself to speak again if she had to wait until they got home. She flexed her feet, still sore from that morning.

The two continued through the forest path. Amy kept looking straight ahead as she eventually began. “I’m sure you remember I started talking about it this morning- how you went on your own and all.” She glanced at him just momentarily. “Well, it wasn’t anything like now. Um…” It took her a moment to form the words. “So… A few years ago, you lured a bunch of us into a huge battle. We thought Eggman was stringing us along, but when we got to you, we found out that you’d imprisoned him and taken over his whole deal. Sonic, Tails, Knuckles- even Cream and some others came along. So much happened in three days…” Amy went on to recount some of the events that lead up to their encounter, not wanting to leave anything out.

Somehow, the knowledge that he’d endangered Cream was sickening to Metal. He already knew about fighting the others, but she must have been so young then; even younger than Amy was when he met her. It felt heinous.

Amy had reached the end of the adventure- she took a few breaths before mustering the courage to recall their battle. “When we finally got there, you looked nothing like yourself. Eggman didn’t even know how you’d transformed. I remember you could speak- I mean, you mostly threatened us... I thought you were all talk, honestly, until…” She stopped in her tracks. It was surprisingly painful to remember, especially now. Amy couldn’t believe she was speaking to the same being who had threatened the lives of everyone she cared about all at once. She looked up to find Metal’s crimson eyes staring through her. “I can stop, if you want.” It was more of a hope that he’d want her to. 

There was feeling conflicted, and then there was this. Metal hadn’t anticipated Amy would be this uncomfortable, which in turn made him feel the same. But he needed to know. He approached her slowly, reaching out to take her hand in his, his normally whispering engine now beginning to hiss. She tightened her fingers around his and went on reluctantly. 

“Okay… So, you kept changing. You turned into this huge... monster... you went on a total rampage.” Amy instantly regretted her choice of words, but there was no going back. “If we hadn’t all been there to stop you, I don’t know what would’ve happened.” 

Monster. It was hurtful to hear her describe him that way- but if the story was true, he couldn’t blame her. Metal could feel his body reacting inhospitably, his thoughts scrambling. He tried to take his hand away but Amy stopped him, tightening her grip. 

“Wait, Metal- I want you to know that I don’t blame you. You were just... unrecognizable, filled with so much rage. I know that wasn’t really you, and I don’t want that to happen to you again. I feel so guilty... I wish I’d helped you back then instead of chasing after Sonic like always...”

She felt guilty? What a cruel joke. He remembered now; The intense, bitter hatred that drove him to transform. He thought about Sonic, how he longed to destroy him, and the objective Metal had self-imposed to eliminate his copy- but, wasn’t Metal the copy? Did Amy get the details of their meeting right? He pulled away from her harshly, bringing his hands up to his forehead in panicked confusion. A sharp ring broke out in his head. It must have been what a headache felt like.

“Metal-” Amy gasped. He looked like he was in pain- something she didn’t think was possible. “Did you remember?” He nodded, still cradling his head in his hands.

Pure static rushed through Metal’s circuitry. It wasn’t just the memory of his malformed plan that came back to him, but his vicious motivation as well. Malice blazed in him when he pictured his defeat at Sonic’s hands. The unwavering hostility was like a curse- how was it possible that he was still the same being that Amy described so tenderly just days earlier? The existential guilt that accumulated in the dark corners of his mind was suddenly unrelenting, weighing on him as it increased tenfold. And then he remembered another defeat from his past. And another. And the looking anger from the aftermath of each. He became buried in an avalanche of memories. 

His system overwhelmed, Metal sensed himself about to shut down,his body screeching as every fan struggled to spin fast enough; And knowing he’d been made to withstand worse, he couldn’t have felt more pathetic.

Amy’s hands clasped around his face compassionately. 

“Metal,” she pleaded. He struggled to lift his view, but once there, he stared at her for far too long. Amy held firm, locking her gentle eyes with his fiery ones as fans and engines eased steadily. Slowly, Metal loosened his hands away from his head, and the corners of Amy’s mouth raised assuredly. “You’ll be okay,” she affirmed, her hands moving from Metal’s face to behind his back, pressing her body to his. He was warm. “I’m sorry... if that memory is painful.”

It felt selfish, but his body demanded her comfort. Metal immediately returned Amy’s embrace, holding her firmly to him and clutching the back of her hair eagerly. Painful. What a devastating thing to feel in a body that shouldn’t have the ability. But why should it have been? He wasn’t the one who’s life had been threatened- and yet he was the one being consoled. 

His system was returning to its usual state, but the past still echoed in Metal’s mind noisily. As he remembered the details of that day, Amy’s fierce countenance in the heat of battle appeared before him. Metal hadn’t felt anything for her then- she’d been just another hurdle in his scheme, someone he’d have no qualms with striking down if she got in his way. And he’d tried to. It felt impossible that he didn’t remember the compassion she’d shown him  then, when it weighed so heavily on him now. But he couldn’t forget her again; he wouldn’t allow himself to. It was more than a promise, it was an objective to impose on his every action from that moment on. Metal rested his head on hers warily, combing his fingers gently through the locks at the back of Amy’s head. She closed her eyes with a gentle humming sigh at the pleasant sensation.

“Let’s go home…” Amy spoke softly and serenely. She felt him nod, his cheek nuzzling the crown of her head. She began to put some distance between them, but didn’t make it far as Metal hoisted her up in his grip. “Oh, I meant we should walk…” He returned with a look as if to ask if she was joking. “Come on, I feel bad that you carry me everywhere; it’s not that far.”

The hike would take close to an hour from where they were. Metal denied her request with a shake of his head. 

“Why not?” He simply glanced at her blistered feet momentarily, suggesting that she should stay off them. “Hmph- I’m fine... Put me down.” Amy pouted, her cheeks on the verge of glowing. 

Stubborn, he remembered. Metal hiked her up higher against his chest, strengthening his hold around her. She was practically pinned to him now. Rather than continue to protest, Amy crossed her arms in front of her and relented. “Fine… I guess it’ll be faster…” It was strange- she always assumed that being held by those steely arms would be cold or unpleasant, but Amy had grown to find it comforting- warm, even- and that was what felt wrong about it to her. It felt… inappropriate, she thought.

Unbeknownst to her, Metal was similarly at odds with the behavior. He could hardly admit to himself how pleasurable he found the task of carrying her home, let alone to Amy. Capricious, perhaps, and he wasn’t sure if it was so appropriate, either; But holding Amy brought Metal such solace that he chose to ignore it, convincing himself that he only squeezed her against him for her sake. The closer the better.

Amy’s simple “Thank you” were the only words exchanged between them on their way home. Metal tried not to let his thoughts wander too much so that he did not become overwhelmed again. He knew he couldn't hold it back for long with all the information pouring into his memory at once.

It suddenly became difficult to think of Sonic without becoming enraged. Though Sonic's mere presence irritated him, Metal thought he was over the intense loathing from the first time he encountered Sonic after losing his memory. But it was all too logical now, and so he struggled to ignore it. The memory of his meeting with Amy that seemed so clear just yesterday was also jumbled- he remembered their conversation and his defeat, but something about his impression of Sonic was… off. Metal was beginning to gain an understanding that he was superior to his rival, so how could it be that he was created in Sonic’s image and not the other way around? And there was Amy- supposedly one of Sonic’s best friends, but it often appeared to Metal that he didn’t treat her as such. Metal was undoubtedly a better companion to her- Sonic himself suggested that Amy and Metal “keep looking out for each other”- perhaps Sonic was jealous.

Before he could fixate too much on his rival, Metal came up on the valley and slowed his descent. He glanced down at Amy, comfortably resting in his arms with heavy eyes. He wasn’t ignorant- he knew the reason she pursued Sonic. It must have been the same reason Metal couldn’t bring himself to leave Amy’s side and why he found her presence so soothing; friendship didn’t exactly describe it. He was reminded of the second film they’d watched last night; the warm and compassionate manner in which the lovers handled one another. Like the kind way Amy spoke to and about Metal, or how he caressed her tightly when they traveled together. He wasn’t sure how he processed the conclusion, if it was even possible, but… he loved her.

But it stood to reason, then, that if she could think of Sonic that way with all the deficiencies in the way he treated her, that Amy could feel that way about Metal, too. He wondered if their time spent together now would make up for how he’d wronged her in the past. He loved her; he wanted to tell her.

Metal didn’t quite land, instead reaching close to the ground and propelling himself forward, just hovering off the ground. Amy noticed the change. “Oh, I haven’t seen you do this, since…” 

Since before he’d lost his memory, probably. He didn’t know why he moved that way either, but something about it clicked. Almost as if it was natural. Walking never really felt innate to him, he simply mimicked what Amy and Tails did when they’d “met.” This just made more sense to him now.

He put Amy down slowly, bending forward to give her the opportunity to stand on her own gradually. She didn’t expect her feet to throb when placing them back on the ground after a rest, so she hobbled to the couch to kick the lousy sandals off. With a sigh of relief, she sunk back into the cushion. Metal took his place on the sofa next to her.

“Thanks for bringing me home… my feet really were killing me,” she admitted sheepishly. “Probably should’ve chosen better shoes, but they looked cute, so... you know.”

Metal was barely listening to her words, trying instead to decide how to make his confession. He feared it was too impulsive, calculating all the possible ways in which she could react. He barely understood it himself. He felt his body tense again at the thought of confessing. 

“I mean it,” she turned to him, reaching out to place her hand on his. “Thanks for everything today. It’s weird, but… I think we’re starting to become best friends. Don’t tell Cream,” she giggled and gave his hand a small squeeze in her customary way. “Metal, even though you’ve done hurtful things in the past, you need to know that I forgive you. I hope you can forgive yourself, too.”

Forgiveness. That was one thing he hadn’t begun to process. He assumed the guilt would just continue to well inside him and that pushing it to the depths of his memory would be enough. But hearing her say that she forgave him made his shoulders feel just a bit lighter. He lowered his eyes to view her hand atop his.

Amy did the same, her lashes curling down toward her cheeks. “I’m still here for you if you need me.” Though her shame was fading, Amy regretted the unsympathetic attitude she’d taken toward Metal after that battle. She thought about the vulnerable, insecure state he must have been in and how things could be different if she’d taken the care back then that she did now. Seeing how docile, how warm, how normal he could be gave her hope. It was clear now that he wasn’t so one-sided.

Metal sensed her calm heartbeat, her relaxed breathing. He made sure to record her reassuring words and the mannerisms he found so enchanting, the added memories compelling him toward the new objective he’d created. He still had work to do in understanding his past and making decisions for his future, but he knew he wanted to make room for Amy in that future somehow. He loved her, but it wasn’t the time. Enjoying her friendship was enough. 

----

Somewhere in a dimly lit room, a map appeared on a wall-sized monitor behind a man’s broad shadow. The speaker upon his desk chimed and a robotic voice came through with a message. 

“Metal Sonic- active. Initiating systems.”  

A small dot began to blink on the map and the man swiveled in his chair to face it, grinning.

“Finally,” he responded sharply. “Make the announcement.”

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ 

Wow that only took uhhhhh 19 months? ksjcjhsUmmm let’s just say I had a very complicated 2021. My living situation became pretty weird and I started a different role at work that came with a lot of new responsibility. I was even published professionally in an industry mag so I can't say I haven’t been writing I  guess   lolI also happen to be in the process of moving which coincided with like the first vacation I’ve taken with my family since. ever? I leave in a week and I have to be moved out a few days after getting back but you know it’s fine i’m fine hahaAnyway I appreciate everyone’s kind comments over the past few months!  But I’m overall in a good state (knock on wood), so I’m trying my best to keep updating after I’m back and settled in my new place. Which is to say, not for another two months at least (sorry!)Thanks again to whoever is still reading. Besos  ♥  ~

[anqelically-archived]

I’LL WAIT LONGER | ARMIN ARLERT X FEM!INSERT

WORDS: 1.2k

CONTENT: manga spoilers, angst, character death, blood, armin may be slightly ooc in one part

NOTE: i wrote this so fast oh my goodness, i’ve just been in a sad mood because of aot. an insanely good fanfic, which i started reading less than a month ago, also ended so here we are with me having sudden motivation for writing aot. the story: comrades is here if you want to read

war was a terrible thing that cost the lives of many. those in paradis knew that but still barged into marley anyway. they had to retrieve eren jaeger as he possessed the founding titan and was incredibly important to keep alive.

the founder invaded the liberio internment zone by himself, leaving everyone else trapped on the outside of the internment zone.

if only he had never invaded, then [name] [surname] wouldn’t have a bullet shot into her chest by gabi braun. the young girl was a warrior candidate for marley, taking part of those who wish to be a titan shifter in the future for honor.

everyone stared at [name]’s figure in shock as she stepped back, her body soon dropping onto the ground. blood was leaking out of her left side.

enraged at one of their commanding officers being shot down, many of the scouts rushed over to gabi and another kid. falco grice only wanted to protect gabi but here they were, both getting punched, kicked, and screamed at.

sasha braus’ hands were on [name]’s shoulders as soon as she dropped to the ground, “name!” she was begging with desperate eyes the said girl had never seen before. “control yer breathing and stay with us!”

connie springer’s hands were pressing down on the [color]-eyed woman’s injury. [name] only winced and coughed out red. she was sure something vital was hit.

“bandages!” jean kirstein yelled, “get me bandages now!”

the tall man knelt at [name]’s side and whispered sweet lies to her. she knew that she wouldn’t make it out alive, and she was sure the trio knew it as well as much as they wanted to deny it.

when jean got the bandages he requested, he was quick to wrap them around [name] with the help of connie and sasha. they all talked to keep your attention.

“a-all my belongings go t-to-“ [name] coughed even more blood, “ar-armin since he knows what to do w-with it. and-“

“don’t tell us your will now!” connie squeezed your hand, “just stay awake!”

“armin…” [name] pleaded with tears in her eyes as they were beginning to blur, “take me… to him.”

the headache hit hard as connie slammed the door to the front section of the ship open. everyone inside looked at him confused since they didn’t know the situation yet.

“connie?” hange zoe, who was the commander of the scouts, questioned.

“your hands are bloody,” levi ackerman stated the obvious as everyone’s attention was now on his hands.

“it’s [name]’s, she was shot and we don’t think she’ll make it,” connie grit his teeth and moved to the side.

armin arlert swore his heart dropped the moment the bomb was. he watched paralyzed as jean and sasha carried [name]’s body in and laid her down near where eren was tied up.

mikasa ackerman knelt down near name like jean, sasha, and connie did. “[name],” she begged as she cried, “don’t close your eyes and keep listening to me.”

“mikasa,” the dying girl muttered before repeating, “ar-min…”

hearing his name, armin snapped out of his trance and brought himself right next to [name]. he looked at the bandages that were bleeding through before bringing his vision to her face, which he cupped with his hands.

“i love you,” [name] reminded the sobbing blonde, “don’t come s-so soon. i’ll wait to see you again.”

armin’s head dropped by hers, “don’t go, you can’t leave yet. you promised me, [name], you made a promise!”

“we’ll get married then in the future, armin. me and you, we’ll live on a small house by the ocean.”

the other’s cries intensified and armin could already ponder why. hesitantly, he lifted his head up to see [name]’s eyes lifelessly open. she was staring right into his soul, as dead as she was.

armin felt like he couldn’t breathe as even more tears streamed down his face in rivers, his hands gripping [name]’s shoulder tightly.

he stopped when he heard hysterical laughter behind him. the blue-eyed man looked at his old best friend in disbelief. eren was laughing when [name] of all people just died.

while they were little, armin was first friends with [name] since they were neighbors. soon, the pair met eren and mikasa joined later. it was always them four from then on.

he was fairly sure eren had a crush on [name] too while they first met, but it was something that eventually faded. and now the guy who once crushing on her while she smiled was laughing at her while she was dead.

armin suddenly felt anger rush through him as he got up and gripped eren’s collar tightly. this action caught the rest off-guard. “how can you be laughing!? now!? [name]’s done so much for you and now your laughing at the fact that she’s dead!? she’s saved you, mikasa, jean, sasha, me! and you want to laugh!?” more and more curses and yells spilled out of armin’s mouth thoughtlessly.

it was built-up frustration spewing out of armin’s mouth. they wondered for so long why eren left and had to busy themselves with finding him.

then as soon as they figure out where he is, they plan an ambush that would kill many innocent civilians in the internment zone. it was a parallel to the fall of shiganshina, their home.

the mid-east allied nations would now be enraged when learning that their ambassadors were killed. paradis also lost some soldiers of their own, [name] now being one of the fallen.

everything broke like a dam. “why can’t you-!” armin’s scratchy words died when he saw the look on eren’s face.

the brunette’s teeth were grinding against each other as his eyes told armin the truth. he regrets it. armin let go of eren’s collar and ignored mikasa’s calls while heading to the front of the blimp where he could see the sea below.

the ocean. [name] promised armin that they would have a house near it on paradis, but how was that possible with her dead?

—

it was silent. gently, armin felt his body float down to the flattened land below. memories of conversations appeared in his mind as his eyes widened.

his best friend, eren jaeger, did this all for them.

“i know you can’t forgive me for [name], but i tried changing it somehow. it was useless.”

”so you’re saying she could never be saved?”

“no, there was no saving her. she was meant to die then and there on the airship.”

“then… i don’t blame you. things were just meant to end that way. besides, she wouldn’t want me to be mad at you.”

armin laid up from the smoke as he felt different, “now i remember… this is what he meant.”

the nineteen year old looked all around walking through the mist until a figure caught his eye. standing straight and staring right at him was [name] [surname].

she smiled at him, a proud look in her eyes. armin stepped closer to her figure in disbelief, wanting to reach out before [name] made the first move.

her transparent body, which was only getting clearer by the moment, walked forward and crouched down to the sandy dirt beneath. armin watched as [name] was surprisingly able to interact with the real world one last time.

‘i’ll wait longer :)’

tears escaped the ends of armin’s eyes while looking at [name] one last time, “thank you, [name]. you can finally rest now.”

and just like that, with a wordless goodbye, she left him again.

NAVIGATION

please reblog to support <3

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Rojascorp. Andrea comes to Lena and confesses her feelings for Lena, and suggests the two just leave and live a happy peaceful life together. Something sweet between them, and maybe it ends with their new happy life, or we see them return to the city a year later and she the reactions of their old friends. Who some could be happy for them and some maybe jealous they missed their chance.

When Andrea comes seeking absolution, Lena initially resists. Kara may have ripped their friendship to shreds, but Andrea had cleaved Lena from what remained of her mother, and that could never be forgiven.

But then Lena visits Andrea at CatCo for an unrelated meeting, and she catches the look on Kara's face when she leans in to give Andrea's cheek a perfunctory kiss. Shock sparks when she sees Kara staring not just in curiosity, but something else. Jealosy, perhaps, she thinks. But then it hits her-- longing.

Kara Danvers looks at them with thinly veiled longing, and a plan starts to form in Lena's brain.

After their meeting concludes, Andrea walks Lena to the elevators. Lena feels gazes following them, and knows that Kara's is one of them. In a split second, Lena makes her choice.

Affecting a conciliatory smile, Lena reaches out with a gentle touch to Andrea's elbow. Her friend's surprise soon shifts to hope when she sees Lena's expression.

"I'm tired of being angry," Lena says quietly. She waits a bit, then meets Andrea's gaze. "I've missed you."

That much carries a kernel of truth, though her purpose in sharing as much is less than honest.

"Have dinner with me tonight," Andrea breathes in a rush.

Lena lifts her chin in acquiescence. "All right."

Andrea's fingers catch gently at hers when they part. Lena lets it happen, even throws a glance over her shoulder as she steps into the elevator. It reveals Andrea's subtly eager countenance, but also Kara's arched brows as her eyes zero in on their joined hands.

Only when the elevator doors close does Lena allow herself a smirk.

----

They share their first meal in years at a restaurant that is upscale enough to offer a modicum of privacy between tables, but not good enough to become a favorite of either of them. It's neutral territory.

Nothing is said about the medallion. Lena is more than happy to ignore the elephant between-- it's easier to pretend when neither of them acknowledges it. Instead they share gossip, catching each other up on what's transpired in their missing years together. Inevitably, Andrea teases her.

"And what about this Supergirl? I admit I've been following your escapades with National City's favorite superhero. You two seem... comfortable."

"Purely business," is all Lena says.

Andrea senses the end of the conversation, and smoothly moves on.

They part that evening outside the restaurant with a promise to text later. Within a week, they meet for lunch. Then, morning coffee before work. That morning, before Lena can slip back to L-Corp, Andrea's features suddenly turn nervous.

"Can I make you dinner at mine tomorrow?"

There's nothing that sounds more claustrophobic than an evening trapped with a former friend, but Lena forces a smile. "Sounds lovely."

Dinner is a simple pasta and red wine, followed by a dessert of chocolate raspberry torte. Conversation flows easily enough, and the mood slowly softens as the wine continues to pour. Eventually, Lena pulls out her phone to request her driver, only for Andrea to cover the screen with her hand, stilling Lena's typing fingers.

When Lena meets her gaze, Andrea's eyes are soft with wine, pupils wide with desire. Lena isn't surprised: she's been expecting this for some time-- a rekindling of the unspoken chemistry between them, without Russell around to pull Andrea's attention away.

"Stay," Andrea offers, voice low and throaty. She reaches up to cup Lena's cheek as she hopefully searches Lena's gaze. "Just for tonight."

Lena leans ever so slightly into her friend's touch, then loops her arms around Andrea's neck. "Just for tonight."

Leaning in, she allows their lips to meet.

---

Lena stays until morning. She leaves before Andrea, but lingers long enough to share coffee in the kitchen, clothed in nothing but one of Andrea's sweatshirts. It's large, even for Andrea, and Lena wonders detachedly whether the sweatshirt might have originally belonged to Russell.

Their texts throughout the day remain casual, but Lena makes a point to visit CatCo the next day. Andrea makes no indication of the change in their relationship, but Lena fixes that by kissing her square on the mouth. Gentle enough to be discreet, but sure enough to let anyone watching know.

And the one person Lena wants to have see is certainly watching.

A mug drops and shatters on the floor, echoed by a frantic yelp and censored 'shoot!'

Andrea blinks at Lena, stunned.

Lena slips a hand to Andrea's waist. The touch is intimate, and softens Andrea's shock to happiness.

"Hello, darling."

---

So it continues. Weeks pass, then over a month as Lena continues the charade of amends. It's as easy as breathing, even when Lena smoothly accepts Andrea's invitation to visit the Rojas home in Argentina.

It's there that Andrea surprises Lena with a question.

"Why are you here if you don't want to be anywhere near me?"

Lena's eyebrows lift. "Excuse me?"

"Come on, Lena. I know you, remember? The kiss, the dinners, the sex. We both know it's not for my benefit."

Caught on the spot-- on the sand, no less, spread out on a lounge chair beneath a broad umbrella-- Lena says nothing. They're as isolated as their affluence can afford them; she has nowhere to go but to endure the understanding in Andrea's voice.

"I'd hoped it might bring us closer, regardless your motives," Andrea continues. "I just want you to know that I know, and that I'm okay with it. There's been enough secrets between us."

With that, Andrea returns to her book. Lena scowls at her own book, nearly forgotten in her lap. Andrea's lack of judgement rankles her, poking the part of her just spoiling for a fight.

"I'm not going to forgive you."

Andrea's shoulders fall, but she doesn't rise to the bait.

"I'm not asking you to."

---

When they return from their trip, something has changed. No longer forced to pretend for Andrea's sake, Lena just... forgets to pretend.

The public kisses cease, the flirting stops, and though their dates continue, the tension Lena felt maintaining her deceit eases, and slowly she feels herself responding to Andrea's persisting presence.

Eventually, Lena realizes that her enjoyment in her friend's company is genuine. She looks forward to seeing Andrea-- her smiles when Andrea teases aren't forced.

One morning, waking in Andrea's bed, Lena realizes-- she's herself again. The part of her that had ruptured from Kara's betrayal has been stitched back together. She feels reassembled, glued piece by piece under Andrea's open affection.

Rolling over, Lena gazes at her friend's sleeping face, and discovers that Andrea is, in fact, her friend. Again. Without Lena knowing, Andrea has slipped back into her life, into her heart.

Most surprising of all is that Lena is okay with that.

---

"Kara," Lena hears Andrea say from outside her office. "I don't remember assigning you the L-Corp piece."

Lena can hear Kara's sheepishness in the beat of silence that follows. "I traded with Todd, actually. He... wasn't feeling well."

"I'm sure."

Taking pity on both of them, Lena rises from her desk and collects her things to leave. It's late enough to take an early afternoon, and honestly Lena doesn't mind that Andrea seems to be of a similar opinion.

She opens her office door to find Andrea regarding her employee with a skeptical look, but her expression eases into a smile at the sight of Lena.

"Hey, babe," Andrea greets. The affection is second-nature by now, just as it feels natural for Lena to accept it, just as she had in boarding school. Andrea catches sight of Lena's purse and grins. "Playing hooky?"

Lena returns the smile. "Something like that." She loops her arm through Andrea's, propping her chin on a satined shoulder. "Wouldn't mind some company."

An unprompted kiss drops onto Lena's hairline. "My thoughts exactly."

Having ignored Kara for a sufficient amount of time, Lena straightens and regards the reporter with none of the warmth she'd shown Andrea.

"Can I help you?"

Her tone is cool and professional, but Kara winces like Lena had stabbed her. A flood of emotions flashes behind Kara's glasses, before she manages to recover enough to respond.

"I, uh... I wanted to..."

"I'm afraid I have other business to attend to today," Lena dismisses casually. She even offers a detached, though courteous smile. "Let Todd know he's welcome to make an appointment with my office as soon as he's feeling better."

Turning back to Andrea, Lena waggles their interlocked elbows. "You ready?"

"You jump, I jump."

Together, they stride to the elevator, leaving Kara behind with her cheeks burning and tears in her eyes. With Andrea warmth behind her, the flickers of anger that sparked at the sight of her former friend quickly subside once more.

And if Lena kisses the corner of Andrea's mouth in gratitude, the responding kiss is anything but.

[its-not-a-phase-mom-i-d8-demons]

Kinktober Day 1 - Lucifer & Overstimulation

A/N: Day one of my first kinktober 10 DAYS LATE UHHHHH. I'm sorry, school has it's foot up my ass and dating is REALLY FUCKING HARD >:( anyway i hope you guys enjoy :) (here and here, you find my twitter porn inspo lol) and I may or may not have written a fatass fic

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

Warnings: fem! reader (as always), fingering, daddy kink, overstimulation, swearing, lmk if I missed some things

Your presence on Lucifer's lap was a common occurrence.

More often than not, the Demon Lord or The Great Mammon would make one of their surprise appearances in Lucifer's office, to find you seated on his thighs with your legs locked around his waist and your head resting on his shoulder. Diavolo would smile kindly, waiting for you to pry yourself off of your demon boyfriend and step outside the office for a few moments while they discussed important things while Mammon would complain and stomp off.

Sometimes you happened to be snoozing lightly, the comfortable warmth he radiated soaking into every pore and you had no reason not to keep him company, bask in his body heat, and nuzzle into his shoulder to be surrounded by his heavenly scent.

This evening was a little different.

You had woken up, sweating and tearful from a terrible dream.

Glancing around your lonely, chilly room, you decided you needed to go to Lucifer's room and get a hug.

With the visions trapped on repeat in your head, there would be no sleep for you without a hug and a kiss to take it all away.

You padded down the shadowy hallways to a mahogany door at the end of the hall and opened it, allowing the thick yellowy light of several lamps to flood a small chunk of the hallway.

Lucifer was seated on his bed, reading.

He was dressed in silk nightclothes, a shiny obsidian black color with a silver 'L' embroidered into the right breast to match the silver buttons keeping his lovely sculpted waist from your tired eyes.

He turned his head and smiled, setting down his book and walking to the door to greet you.

"Evening, darling." He purred, but when you rushed into his arms and buried your face in his chest, Lucifer got worried.

"Something wrong, love? What's the matter?" He hugged you tightly, nose dropping into your sweet-smelling hair.

"Scary dream." You murmured, breathing a shuddering sigh of relief.

Lucifer bent down and hooked your knees under his arm, scooping you easily into a bridal carry and carrying you to his bed.

Soon you were situated comfortably between his legs, his arms wrapped firmly under your chest and over your stomach.

"Tell me about it." He goads, nosing the side of your head as you relax in his embrace.

So you do.

You play with his fingers as you talk, just above a murmur with how sleepy you are, but the kisses littered along your shoulders and feather-light way his hand slips under your nightdress to gently rub your tummy; a comforting gesture that served only to make your inner thighs tingle with excitement.

Lucifer's hand slides down to cup your sex, slender fingers rubbing gently along your clothed slit, smirking as he felt the thin material dampen slightly from arousal. The words caught in your throat as Lucifer slid his hand into your panties, middle and ring finger circling your entrance, gathering your juices and causing more of your sweet slick to wet his digits.

"L-Luci-"

"Let me make it better, love." He whispered in your ear, "Keep these pretty thighs open for daddy."

You shuddered with delight as he tightened his grip on your ribs; you wouldn't be escaping his hold anytime soon.

"You smell so sweet, princess, just relax... good girl."

He ground the heel of his palm into your clit and you squeaked, giving him the opportunity to push two fingers into your soaking heat.

"Ooh-!" You clutch at his wrist, legs jumping at the sudden intrusion, "Lucii..."

He hushed you softly, hand beginning to work against your puffy folds, lips leaving thin purple bruises along the soft expanse of your throat.

"You looked breathtaking today," He nibbles along your earlobe, your huffs and increasing whimpers only egg him on, "All I could think about was trapping your sexy little body against me, just like this, so I could fuck everything out of your empty little head. I see the way Diavolo looks at these pretty thighs." He tugs his drenched hand to tease the sensitive, soft skin on your inner thighs, causing you to squirm and buck, nearly crying from the orgasm he'd stopped.

"Luci, you can't!"

"Oh I can and I will, little one."

He smirked against your shoulder, taking his sweet time trailing his hand back to your pulsating cunny.

Plunging his fingers back into your heat, he moved his hand so quickly, your thighs bounced from the force and the rapid schluck schluck schluck of your juicy folds made you feel almost lightheaded.

"Don't you dare cum," He murmurs, "You come and sit on my desk or on my lap at RAD and these beautiful thighs spread out like cookie dough..."

You're having trouble focusing, there's just so much and it feels so good-

The pleasure is ripped away once again and you wail, clawing at Lucifer's exposed forearm. He grapples onto your face and silences your cries and squeals with a kiss.

You break the kiss, clinging to him with stray tears dribbling down your flushed cheeks.

"D-Daddy, need your cock, n-need to cum! O-Oh fuck daddy I want to! So bad ohh-"

Lucifer pushes you down on the bed, shedding his pants as he goes. Not the easiest task, as they had been growing tighter and tighter every time your sweet little ass bucked and wiggled from the onslaught of pleasure only moments ago.

"You want daddy's cock? Is that it, love?"

His fingers had returned to their rightful place, making your eyes roll back in your skull and your juices soak the sheets from their deep reach into your overflowing cunny.

You nodded, "Cum oooh daddy I need to cum! Oh, ohh! Fuck, daddy I-"

"You better not, pretty baby, you know better. Contol yourself or I'm taking you back to your room." He warned, watching proudly as you obeyed, face screwing up adorably as you held back your orgasm, more hot tears carving burning paths down your heated face as you bucked helplessly against his fingers.

Finally slowing to a stop, Lucifer caught your heaving frame in a kiss, and rubbing your tummy comfortingly.

"That's my good girl,"

You preened at the praise.

"You deserve a nice reward, how does that sound, hm?"

You nod desperately and allow the demon to carefully roll you over onto all fours and line himself up with your abused entrance.

"Ready, love?" Lucifer asks, wrapping a hand around your neck.

"Yes daddy. Hhhngg- o-o-ooh! Oh fuckfuckfuck-"

You struggle, muscles spasming, mind blanking, as his thick length slides into your hole in one thrust and quickly picks up speed.

Your cheek was pressed against the sheets, ass up, as your cunt swallowed every veiny inch of his fat length every time it was sheathed inside of you.

Fingers rubbed at your already swollen and sore clit, causing you to gasp shallowly as your inner walls clamped down on his length, each and every vein and ridge teasing your overly-sensitive cunt.

He watched your toes curl as you came, inner muscles attempting to force him out, but he only ground in deeper, prolonging the orgasm until your vision was swimming with colors and stars.

His fingers never faltered, even as he began bucking forward into your juicy cunt, aided by the constant flow of sticky essence being forced out of your cunny in a creamy ring around his cock.

You were going to cum again.

And again.

And again.

You could hardly feel your legs when your pussy finally pushed him out and sprayed your sweet juices everywhere.

Lucifer watched you writhe as he fed three fingers into your pussy and pulled another orgasm from between your twitching thighs, deciding to have mercy and give you a short break.

He sat down on the bed and pulled you into his lap, hushing your pleas and cries and pushing your hips down to bury his cock in your heavenly folds once again.

Your eyes fluttered beautifully; he watched your legs shudder and stretch as you adjusted to having something so fat and hot in your cunt once more.

"You've been so good, princess." He whispers, watching your head droop onto his shoulder, "Take a little break. We'll continue this in a few minutes."