#nothing worked and i saw my life flash before my eyes several times

[novaursa]

good evening I saw that you were still taking requests

I had an idea where fem!targaryen is Aegon's twin sister, she was sent at the same time as Daeron to Oldtown She was always extremely close to her twin brother but his character didn't match the court.

She looks a lot like Daemon, a bit of a rebellious princess and her grandfather sent her to their house to help her recover. but arriving in Oldtown she created a more than close bond with her uncle Sir Gwayne.

If we could have the complexity of their relationship, like the first time their outlook on each other changed, first kiss but they are still consumed by the fact that it's not right

They would have a very close relationship, Gwayne is someone who is very teasing and even a little arrogant. They would probably marry under the old and new gods like Targaryen and for many years no one else knows except Aegon

then when Aegon was made king, Alicent contacted her brother again but at the same time would hear about several children with white hair and purple eyes who would be in Oldtown, she would immediately think of bastards but she would never have thought of her brother and her daughter

Otto and Alicent would be angry and even disgusted by Gwayne's behavior but when they return to King's Landing they are welcomed wonderfully by Aegon who is more than happy to see his nephews and nieces again 🫶🏼👀

A Flame in Exile

- Summary: Your mother and grandsire have sent you away to Oldtown. You were too unruly like your uncle Daemon, they said. But Gwayne never shied away from fire.

- Paring: niece!reader/Gwayne Hightower

- Note: For more of my works, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top. Requests are closed!

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Word count: 6 000+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @deniixlovezelda @duck-duck-goose2 @aadu2173 @holdingforgeneralhugs

The wind bites at your face as the ship draws closer to the towering spire of the Hightower. You shiver slightly, though not from the cold. Oldtown is a world away from the Red Keep, and though you’ve heard much of its grandeur and history, the thought of calling this place home sits uneasily within you. Yet, the unease is nothing compared to the aching emptiness left by your separation from Aegon.

Your twin. Your other half. His tear-streaked face is burned into your mind, his voice—trembling and desperate—echoes in your ears. "Please, don’t leave me," he had cried, clinging to you with a desperation that had nearly broken your resolve. His arms wrapped around you so tightly that it felt like he was trying to fuse your very souls together, as if by sheer force of will he could keep you by his side.

But your mother had intervened. Alicent’s voice had been cold and firm, like steel wrapped in velvet, her eyes flashing with something you couldn't quite place as she pried Aegon’s arms from around your neck. "Do not make a scene, Aegon," she had hissed, her grip on him as unyielding as her will. And then, with one last pained look, you had been pulled away, ushered towards the ship that would take you to Oldtown, to the Hightower. To your new life.

Even now, as you stand on the deck, the memory haunts you. Aegon, your other half, left behind in the Red Keep, with no one who truly understands him. The thought that you are the only one who ever did brings you little comfort, for what use is understanding when you are not there to provide it? 

You glance down at Daeron, your little brother, standing beside you. His wide eyes are filled with awe, and a hint of fear as he stares at the looming city before him. He is too young to understand the full weight of what has been done, but you see the uncertainty in the way he clutches at your hand. You squeeze his hand in return, offering what little comfort you can, though the gesture feels hollow. 

The ship finally docks, and the crew is quick to lower the gangplank. As you descend, you are met by a small party of retainers, dressed in the colors of House Hightower. At their head stands Gwayne Hightower, your uncle, and eldest son of Otto Hightower, your grandsire. His presence is commanding, yet there is a warmth in his gaze that eases some of the tension coiled within you.

“Welcome to Oldtown,” Gwayne greets, his voice smooth and gentle, with a hint of the formality you’ve come to expect from a Hightower. He bows his head to you first, acknowledging your status, before turning to Daeron with a softer expression. “Prince Daeron, it is an honor to have you here.”

Daeron blinks up at Gwayne, unsure of what to say, but Gwayne’s easy smile seems to relax him. “Thank you, Ser Gwayne,” Daeron finally replies, his voice small but polite.

“And you, Princess Y/N,” Gwayne turns his full attention to you, his grey eyes meeting yours with a curiosity that is hard to miss. “It has been many years since we last met, but I can see the blood of the dragon runs strong in you. You have grown into a fine lady.”

You offer him a nod, not trusting yourself to speak just yet. His words are kind, but you see the caution in his gaze. You are a stranger to him, a puzzle to be unraveled. And in this moment, you feel more alone than ever. Yet, there is something in Gwayne's demeanor that draws you in—an undercurrent of understanding, as if he too knows what it is to be caught between duty and desire.

“We have prepared quarters for you both within the Hightower,” Gwayne continues, gesturing to the towering structure behind him. “Your retainers will find all the accommodations they require as well. If there is anything you need, do not hesitate to ask.”

You incline your head in thanks, finally finding your voice. “Thank you, Ser Gwayne. Your hospitality is appreciated.”

As you follow Gwayne through the streets of Oldtown, Daeron trailing close behind, you cannot help but marvel at the city around you. It is a place of ancient history, where every stone seems to hum with the weight of the ages. The Citadel looms in the distance, a symbol of knowledge and power, while the Starry Sept stands as a beacon of faith. Yet, despite the grandeur, you find no comfort here. This is not your home. And though Gwayne’s presence is steady and kind, you know it will be some time before you can truly trust him, or anyone else here.

When you finally reach the Hightower, you are led through its winding corridors to your chambers. They are lavishly appointed, far more luxurious than anything you expected, but the opulence feels cold, impersonal. You cannot help but think of the warmth of the Red Keep, of the fire-lit chambers where you and Aegon would hide away from the world, finding solace in each other’s company.

Once you and Daeron are settled, Gwayne excuses himself, leaving you alone with your brother. Daeron, still so young, looks to you for guidance, for reassurance. And though you ache to give it to him, you feel the weight of your own uncertainty pressing down on you.

“Do you think we’ll be happy here?” Daeron asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

You look down at him, his innocent face so full of hope, and force a smile. “We’ll make the best of it,” you reply, your voice steady despite the turmoil within. “We have each other, and that is what matters.”

He nods, seemingly satisfied with your answer, and you pull him into a hug. But as you hold him close, you cannot shake the feeling that something has been irreparably broken. You are no longer whole, no longer tethered to the one person who understood you completely. And as you close your eyes, you wonder if you will ever feel at home again.

As the night falls and the Hightower grows quiet, you sit by the window, staring out at the city below. Somewhere out there, in the vastness of this world, is Aegon, your twin, your other half. You hope he is safe, hope he knows that you did not want to leave him. But hope feels fragile in the face of the reality you now face. 

In the distance, the Starry Sept’s bells toll, their mournful sound carrying on the wind. You wonder if Aegon can hear them too, wherever he is. You wonder if he is thinking of you, as you are thinking of him.

And as you drift into an uneasy sleep, you cling to the memory of his tears, of his desperate pleas. For they are all you have left of him now, and you fear that, without them, you may forget what it feels like to be whole.

The days in Oldtown have blurred into a monotonous routine, a far cry from the vibrant, if chaotic, life you once knew in the Red Keep. The city, with all its ancient grandeur, has become a gilded cage, and you find yourself suffocated by the very walls meant to protect you. Daeron, though still young, has adapted better than you expected, throwing himself into his lessons with the maesters. You, however, remain adrift, seeking solace in the only companionship that has begun to mean anything in this new life—Gwayne Hightower.

From the moment you arrived, Gwayne has been a constant presence, hovering at the edges of your life in Oldtown. At first, you found his attentions burdensome, a reminder of your exile from King's Landing. But over time, the sharp edges of your resentment dulled, replaced by a begrudging acceptance of his company. Now, months after your arrival, Gwayne’s presence has become something you not only expect but anticipate. His arrogance, his teasing remarks—they no longer irritate you as they once did. Instead, they have become a strange kind of comfort, a link to a life that feels farther away with each passing day.

On this particular afternoon, you find yourself in one of the Hightower’s many courtyards, the sun hanging low in the sky. The air is cool, the first signs of autumn creeping in. You sit on a stone bench, watching as the shadows stretch long and thin across the cobblestones. Gwayne is beside you, his usual smirk in place, though his eyes are softer than usual.

“You know,” he begins, his voice light with mockery, “I never thought Oldtown would see the day a dragon would be caged within its walls.”

You glance at him, raising an eyebrow. “Caged? You speak as if I’m some kind of beast, Gwayne.”

“Aren’t you?” he retorts, though there’s no malice in his tone. “You have the blood of the dragon in you, after all. And from what I hear, more of Daemon’s fire than Viserys’s... whatever it is he has.” He leans closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “That’s why they sent you here, isn’t it? To keep you away from your dear twin. To keep you from burning down the world.”

You bristle at his words, even as a part of you knows there is truth in them. “And what would you know of such things?” you snap back, though there’s little heat behind it. “You Hightowers are always so certain of yourselves, always so sure of your place in the world.”

Gwayne laughs, a low, rich sound that sends a shiver down your spine. “We are sure of our place because we make it so. That is what my father taught me. But you… you are different, aren’t you? You don’t fit neatly into anyone’s plans, not even your own.”

His words sting because they cut too close to the bone. You are different, an anomaly in your own family. Not quite the dutiful daughter Alicent hoped for, nor the rebellious one like Daemon that Viserys once admired, you have always straddled a line that leaves you belonging nowhere. And here, in Oldtown, that difference is magnified, a glaring fault line that Gwayne seems all too eager to point out.

But today, something is different. The way Gwayne looks at you, the way his voice lingers on your name—it’s all sharper, more intense. He’s leaning in closer, the space between you shrinking with each passing moment, until you can feel the warmth of his breath on your skin. The tension between you crackles like lightning before a storm, dangerous and thrilling.

“Why do you do that?” you ask suddenly, your voice softer than you intended. “Why do you always bring up my uncle? Why do you always remind me of why I’m here?”

Gwayne’s smirk falters, just for a moment, before he straightens up, the teasing mask slipping back into place. “Because it’s the truth, and I’ve found that you prefer truth over the pretty lies most would tell you.”

You can’t argue with that, but it doesn’t ease the knot in your chest. “It’s a bitter truth,” you murmur, more to yourself than to him.

“Perhaps,” he agrees, his tone shifting, becoming more serious. “But it’s the truth nonetheless. You are fire, my lady. Wild and untamed, just like Daemon. And it scares them—all of them. My father, your mother, the king… they don’t know what to do with you.”

“And you?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. “Do I scare you, Gwayne?”

He looks at you then, really looks at you, and for the first time, there’s no arrogance in his gaze, no teasing light in his eyes. “Yes,” he says quietly. “But I find that I’m drawn to the flame, even knowing I might get burned.”

The admission hangs between you, heavy and charged. The world seems to narrow down to this moment, to the space between you and Gwayne, a space that feels both too vast and too close. You can see the conflict in his eyes, the way he fights against something he doesn’t fully understand. But then, so do you.

“I should go,” you say, the words an echo of what you think you should say, but not what you want. 

Gwayne’s hand reaches out before you can move, his fingers curling around your wrist with a gentle pressure. It’s a small touch, but it ignites something within you, a spark that quickly flares into a dangerous blaze. His touch feels like the first real thing you’ve felt since you left King’s Landing, since you left Aegon behind. 

“Stay,” he says, his voice a soft command, a plea wrapped in steel. “Just for a little while longer.”

You know you shouldn’t. You know this is wrong, forbidden, and dangerous. The Seven would condemn it, your family would disown you, and yet... there’s a part of you that doesn’t care. A part of you that craves this, that wants to feel alive again, even if it means stepping into the flames. 

Your heart pounds in your chest as you look into Gwayne’s eyes, seeing the same conflict mirrored in his gaze. And then, slowly, you nod. 

He pulls you closer, his hand moving from your wrist to your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin in a way that makes your breath hitch. For a moment, neither of you moves, the world suspended in a fragile balance. And then, as if drawn by an invisible force, Gwayne leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a tentative kiss.

The contact is electric, sending shockwaves through your body, waking something within you that has been dormant for too long. You respond without thinking, without caring, your hands moving to his shoulders as you press closer to him. The kiss deepens, becoming more urgent, more desperate, as if you are both trying to fill the void that has been gnawing at you for months.

When you finally pull back, breathless and trembling, Gwayne’s eyes are dark with something you’ve never seen before. “This… this is madness,” he whispers, his voice rough with emotion.

“Madness,” you echo, your own voice shaking. “But it’s the only thing that feels real.”

For a moment, you both just sit there, the weight of what you’ve done pressing down on you. You should feel guilt, shame, regret—but all you feel is a strange kind of relief, as if a burden you didn’t know you were carrying has been lifted.

Gwayne’s hand still rests on your cheek, and he brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his touch lingering. “We can’t do this,” he says, but there’s no conviction in his words, no real intent to stop.

“I know,” you reply, though you don’t mean it. You both know the truth—you will do this again, and again, until you’ve burned through all the self-control you have left. It’s inevitable, like the pull of the moon on the tide.

But for now, you just sit there, in the fading light of the courtyard, your hands still intertwined, the air between you charged with a promise of something more. Something dangerous, something forbidden, but something that, for the first time in months, makes you feel alive.

It's a night that feels suspended in time, where the old gods and new alike seem to hold their breath, watching, waiting.

You stand beside Gwayne, your heart pounding in your chest, each beat a thunderous drum in the stillness of the room. The decision to marry in secret, away from the eyes of the court and the judgment of the realm, was one made in the quiet moments between stolen kisses and whispered confessions. It was born out of a love that neither of you could deny, a love that defied the rules of blood and duty, a love that could only be sealed in the shadows.

The septon who stands before you is not one from the grand Starry Sept of Oldtown. He is an ostracized man, a septon fallen from grace, his robes frayed and worn, his face lined with the scars of a hard life. But his eyes are sharp, and there is a solemnity in his bearing that speaks of a deep connection to the gods, both old and new. It is this man that Gwayne sought out, a man who would not only marry you in secret but who would bless this union under the eyes of both the Seven and the Valyrian gods—an acknowledgment of the blood that flows in your veins, the fire that binds you to your ancestors.

The chamber is small, tucked away in the bowels of the Hightower, a place known only to a few trusted souls. The only witnesses to this union are the flickering candles and the ancient stone walls that have stood through centuries of history. And here, in this hidden place, you are about to make a vow that will bind you to Gwayne for eternity.

Gwayne turns to you, his eyes soft and filled with a tenderness that makes your breath catch. The man who once teased you with sharp words and arrogant smirks now looks at you with a love so profound it feels like it could consume you both. He reaches out, taking your hands in his, his grip firm and warm. The callouses on his palms are a testament to his life as a warrior, but the way he holds you is gentle, reverent.

"My love," Gwayne begins, his voice steady but thick with emotion, "before the eyes of the Seven, and in the presence of the Valyrian gods, I take you as my wife. You are my fire, my light, my salvation. In you, I have found not just love, but a purpose, a reason to be. I vow to protect you, to cherish you, to stand by your side, no matter what trials we may face. From this day until my last, you are mine, and I am yours."

His words send a shiver through you, the weight of his vow settling deep in your heart. You can feel the truth of them, the way they resonate with the very core of who you are. When you speak, your voice is soft but unwavering, carrying with it the depth of your own love and conviction.

"Gwayne," you begin, your eyes locking with his, "you are my heart, my strength, my true companion. In a world that seeks to tear us apart, you are the one who has always stood by me, who has seen me for who I truly am, and loved me all the same. I vow to stand with you, to fight for us, to love you with all that I am. We may walk a dangerous path, but I choose it willingly, because I choose you. Now and always, I am yours, and you are mine."

The septon steps forward, his voice low and gravelly as he intones the ancient rites. "Before the eyes of the gods, both new and old, I bless this union. By the light of the Seven and the fire of Old Valyria, may your love be eternal, may your bond be unbreakable. What is done here in secret, let it be known in the hearts of those who bear witness."

He raises a small vial, pouring the contents—a mixture of oil and salt—into a shallow basin. The scent of it fills the room, sharp and cleansing. He dips his fingers into the mixture and anoints your foreheads, first Gwayne’s and then yours, marking you with the symbols of both faiths. The coolness of the oil against your skin is grounding, a reminder of the gravity of this moment.

"By the authority granted to me by the gods," the septon continues, his voice carrying the weight of the ages, "I now pronounce you husband and wife. You are bound by blood, by love, and by the will of the gods. Go forth as one, in strength and in unity."

Gwayne pulls you to him then, his hands cradling your face as he kisses you deeply, passionately, in a way that speaks of all the love he has kept hidden from the world. The kiss is a sealing of your vows, a promise made flesh. You melt into him, your hands gripping his tunic as you pour every ounce of your heart into that kiss, into this moment that is yours and his alone.

When you finally part, both of you are breathless, your foreheads resting together as you share the silence of the moment, the weight of what you’ve just done pressing down on you. There is a quiet reverence in the room, a sense that something sacred has just taken place, even if it is a secret that must be kept from the world.

Gwayne doesn’t release you, his hands still holding you close as if he’s afraid to let go, as if by doing so, this moment will shatter. His eyes search yours, and what he finds there makes him smile, a rare, genuine smile that softens the edges of his features. “You are mine now,” he whispers, a note of wonder in his voice. “And I am yours.”

“Always,” you whisper back, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “No matter what comes.”

The septon quietly gathers his things, his presence now a shadow in the background, but before he leaves, he pauses at the door, looking back at you both. “May the gods watch over you,” he says softly, and there’s a hint of sadness in his voice, as if he knows the dangers that lie ahead for two who dare to love in defiance of the world.

And then, he’s gone, leaving you and Gwayne alone in the dimly lit chamber, the only witnesses to your union now the flickering flames and the silent walls. 

Gwayne takes your hand, leading you to a low table where a small feast has been laid out, simple but thoughtful. The food and drink are symbols of the life you will now share, a life that must remain hidden in the shadows, but one that is no less real for it.

You sit together, the silence between you comfortable, each of you lost in your own thoughts. When Gwayne finally speaks, his voice is quiet, but there’s a fierceness to it that makes you look up.

“We will find a way, my love,” he says, his hand reaching out to cover yours. “No matter what, we will find a way to be together.”

You nod, squeezing his hand in return, your heart swelling with love for this man who has become your everything. “Yes,” you agree, your voice filled with the same determination. “We will.”

The night stretches on, and eventually, Gwayne rises, pulling you into his arms once more. He leads you to the bed that has been prepared, and as you lie down together, the weight of the world seems to fade away, leaving only the two of you, bound together by vows spoken in secret but no less sacred.

In the quiet darkness, Gwayne’s fingers trace the outline of your face, his touch tender and full of love. “Sleep, my wife,” he murmurs, his voice a balm to your soul. “For tomorrow, we begin the rest of our lives.”

You close your eyes, your head resting against his chest, the steady beat of his heart a comforting rhythm that lulls you into sleep. And as you drift off, you know that no matter what the world might say, no matter what the future holds, you and Gwayne are bound together by something far stronger than duty or blood. You are bound by love, a love that defies the gods and the world alike.

And that, you think as sleep finally takes you, is all that matters.

The night outside the Red Keep is eerily still, as if the very air is holding its breath, waiting for something momentous to happen. Inside the queen’s chambers, the atmosphere is equally tense. Alicent Hightower sits at her desk, a single candle flickering beside her, casting shadows on the stone walls. Her hands tremble slightly as she unfolds the letter she has just received, the familiar sigil of House Hightower stamped in red wax at the seal. She has been waiting for this letter, though she dreads what it might contain.

Otto Hightower stands nearby, his hands clasped behind his back, his face an impassive mask. His eyes, however, are sharp, watching his daughter closely as she reads. The silence in the room is oppressive, broken only by the soft rustling of the parchment as Alicent’s eyes scan the contents.

As she reaches the end of the letter, her face pales, and her breath hitches. Slowly, as if the action costs her all the strength she has left, she lowers the letter to the desk. Her hand lingers on it for a moment before she crumples it in her fist, the delicate paper crinkling loudly in the quiet room.

“What does it say?” Otto asks, his voice calm but edged with curiosity.

Alicent doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, she stares down at the crushed letter in her hand, as if by squeezing it tightly enough, she could somehow undo the words it contains. But no amount of denial can erase what she has read. Finally, she raises her eyes to meet her father’s gaze, and the look she gives him is one of profound unease.

“He’s coming to King’s Landing,” she says, her voice low and strained. “Gwayne. With… his family.”

Otto’s brows knit together slightly, though his expression remains carefully controlled. “His family?” he echoes, the words heavy with unspoken questions.

Alicent swallows hard, a sense of dread settling deep in her gut. “Yes,” she whispers, her mind racing as she considers the implications. The rumors she has heard, the whispers that have reached her ears in recent months, suddenly take on a new and terrifying significance.

She looks back at her father, her voice trembling as she asks, “Have you heard the whispers, Father? The rumors coming from Oldtown… about bastards walking the halls of the Hightower? Children with silver hair and purple eyes?”

Otto’s gaze narrows, a flicker of something—concern, perhaps—passing through his eyes before he schools his features once more. “Rumors, nothing more,” he replies, though there is a carefulness to his tone now. “Gwayne married a noble lady, a match arranged by our family in Oldtown. It was a quiet affair, nothing that would draw too much attention. The children you speak of are likely theirs, legitimate, though the Hightowers have chosen to keep their names and details discreet, to avoid unnecessary scrutiny.”

Alicent’s heart hammers in her chest, the dread in her stomach deepening into something closer to panic. She stands abruptly, pacing the length of her chamber as she tries to make sense of the situation. The image of those children—silver-haired, violet-eyed—flashes in her mind, and with it, a terrible realization begins to take root.

“The only woman who could give birth to children with those features,” she says slowly, her voice thick with fear, “is a Targaryen. A woman with the blood of Old Valyria. And the only one who has been close enough to Gwayne… is her. My daughter.”

Otto remains silent, his eyes following his daughter as she paces. He understands the gravity of her words, the implications of what she is suggesting. But he is also a man who has spent his life navigating the treacherous waters of court politics, and he knows better than to give in to panic.

“Alicent,” he begins, his voice firm but not unkind, “we do not know for certain. These are only rumors, whispers in the dark meant to sow discord. We cannot act on mere speculation.”

But Alicent is not so easily reassured. She stops in her tracks, turning to face him with a look of desperation. “And what if the rumors are true? What if she has given Gwayne children? What if those children come to King’s Landing with him? What then?”

Otto exhales slowly, his mind already working through the possible scenarios. “If the children are indeed of Targaryen blood,” he says carefully, “then we must ensure they are seen as legitimate. We must present them as the offspring of Gwayne’s marriage, no matter the truth. If they bear the look of Valyria, it will only serve to strengthen their claim as trueborn heirs of House Hightower.”

Alicent shakes her head, the fear in her eyes now mingled with a deep, gnawing guilt. “But what of her, Father? What of my daughter? If it becomes known that she has married her own uncle, that she has borne his children… it will be seen as a scandal, a sin in the eyes of the Seven.”

Otto moves toward her then, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder. “We will deal with it as we must,” he says, his voice resolute. “We have always been able to navigate the complexities of power, and this will be no different. But for now, we must be calm. We must wait and see what Gwayne brings with him to King’s Landing. If the whispers are true, we will control the narrative. We will ensure that whatever happens, our family remains strong, untarnished by scandal.”

But Alicent can’t shake the image of her daughter, the girl she sent away so many years ago, now grown into a woman whose life has taken a path she never anticipated. A path that has led her back to the very heart of the storm that Alicent herself helped create.

As she looks into her father’s eyes, she sees the determination there, the cold pragmatism that has always defined him. And she knows that whatever happens, Otto Hightower will do whatever is necessary to protect their family’s legacy. But as for her… Alicent is no longer sure where the line between duty and love lies. And the thought of what might come to light when Gwayne arrives sends a fresh wave of dread coursing through her.

Because deep down, Alicent knows that the rumors are more than just whispers. They are the truth, a truth she has tried so hard to deny. And that truth is coming to King’s Landing, wrapped in the guise of her brother’s family—a family that should never have existed, yet one that now threatens to unravel everything she has fought to preserve.

The sun hangs low in the sky, casting a warm golden light over the sprawling courtyard of the Red Keep. The air is heavy with anticipation, the kind that prickles at the back of your neck and settles uneasily in your stomach. Dowager Queen Alicent stands with her father, Otto Hightower, at her side, their eyes fixed on the great gates that lead into the heart of King’s Landing. Today, Gwayne Hightower returns to the capital, and with him, the secrets that have festered in the shadows of Oldtown.

As the gates creak open, the first thing Alicent notices is the Hightower banners, fluttering proudly in the breeze. A small company of knights and retainers rides in, their armor gleaming in the late afternoon sun, followed by a carriage flanked by more soldiers. But it is the figure on horseback at the head of the procession that draws her attention, making her heart skip a beat.

Gwayne Hightower rides in with all the confidence of a man who has nothing to hide, his expression calm, almost defiant. But it is not just his presence that sends a chill down Alicent’s spine—it is the woman who rides beside him. Her daughter, the princess she sent away so many years ago, now a grown woman with the unmistakable look of her Valyrian heritage. Her silver hair, cascading down her back in loose waves, catches the light, and her purple eyes, sharp and discerning, seem to pierce through the crowd.

But it is not just her presence that shocks Alicent and Otto—it is the way she and Gwayne sit side by side, unashamed and unafraid, as if daring anyone to question their union. Behind them, four children trail on smaller horses, their features a striking mix of Hightower and Targaryen—silver hair, purple eyes, and faces that mirror the legacy of both bloodlines.

Alicent’s heart sinks. The whispers, the rumors, they are all true. Her worst fears have materialized before her very eyes. She can barely breathe as she steps forward with Otto, her voice trembling with barely contained fury.

“Gwayne… what have you done?” Alicent’s voice is sharp, almost a hiss, as she locks eyes with her brother. “How could you be so reckless? So shameless?”

Otto steps forward as well, his usually composed demeanor now laced with anger. “This… this is an abomination,” he declares, his voice low but filled with authority. “You bring shame to our house, Gwayne. And you—” he turns to his granddaughter, his voice tightening—“you have brought dishonor to your name and to the memory of your father.”

But before either of them can say more, there is a sudden movement, a blur of silver and gold as someone rushes past them. Alicent barely has time to process what is happening before Aegon, now king and clad in his royal finery, sweeps forward. His face lights up with pure joy as he closes the distance between himself and his sister.

“Sister!” Aegon exclaims, his voice filled with delight. Without a second thought, he pulls her into a tight embrace, laughing as he buries his face in her hair. “Gods, I’ve missed you.”

You return the embrace just as fiercely, the years of separation melting away in an instant. Aegon’s warmth, his familiar scent, it all feels like home, like a piece of your heart has been returned to you. When he finally pulls back, he keeps his hands on your shoulders, his eyes scanning your face as if to reassure himself that you are truly there.

Aegon then turns his attention to the four children standing quietly behind you and Gwayne, their wide eyes watching the scene with a mix of curiosity and trepidation. His face softens as he approaches them, kneeling down to their level.

“And who are these fine young dragons?” Aegon asks, his voice gentle as he ruffles the hair of the eldest boy, who looks so much like his mother.

“They’re my children,” you say softly, pride evident in your voice. “Your nephews and nieces.”

Aegon grins, his eyes twinkling with mischief and affection. “I see they take after you, sister. They have the look of Targaryens—strong, bold.” He then looks up at Gwayne, his smile never wavering. “You’ve done well, Uncle.”

Gwayne inclines his head, a small smile playing on his lips. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

Alicent’s face drains of color as she watches the scene unfold, her worst fears confirmed. She steps forward, her voice trembling with barely contained rage. “Aegon… did you know about this?” Her eyes bore into her son, searching for any sign of deceit.

Aegon straightens up, turning to face his mother with an expression of calm amusement. “Of course, Mother. Did you truly think my sister and I would not stay in contact? We’ve always been close. She wrote to me often from Oldtown. I knew everything.”

Alicent’s hands shake, her nails digging into her palms as she struggles to contain her emotions. “And you… you approve of this? Of this union?” Her voice breaks on the last word, the full weight of what has happened crashing down on her.

Aegon’s smile only widens, a hint of defiance in his eyes. “Approve? I rejoice in it. They’ve done nothing wrong. They’ve followed their hearts, and that’s more than most in this wretched world can claim.”

Otto’s face is a mask of stone, but his eyes burn with anger and frustration as he steps forward. “This is not just about following one’s heart, Aegon. This is about the sanctity of the family, of the realm. A marriage like this… it will bring scandal, division. It goes against everything we’ve worked to build.”

But Aegon only laughs, a sound that echoes in the tense courtyard. “What scandal? The Seven Kingdoms are mine, and I will decide what is scandal and what is not. My sister and Gwayne are married, and their children are legitimate in my eyes. That is all that matters.”

He turns back to you and Gwayne, his expression softening once more. “Come,” he says, extending his hand to you. “Let us go inside. You’ve been away from home too long.”

Without waiting for a response, Aegon takes your hand and leads you toward the entrance of the Red Keep, Gwayne and the children following closely behind. The knights and retainers part to let you pass, their faces a mixture of shock, confusion, and respect. As you walk, you feel the weight of your family’s judgment pressing down on you, but with Aegon at your side, you feel an unshakeable sense of confidence.

Alicent and Otto remain rooted in place, watching as you and your family disappear into the castle. Alicent’s face is ashen, her eyes wide with disbelief and horror. She opens her mouth to say something, to call out to her son, but no words come. The truth of what has happened, the reality of the situation, is too overwhelming.

As the doors to the Red Keep close behind you, you can feel the walls of the castle seem to close in, suffocating in their familiar embrace. But there is also a strange sense of liberation, of triumph, in walking beside Gwayne, your husband, with your children in tow, and the support of the king himself.

Whatever the future holds, you know that this moment—this homecoming—will be the beginning of something new. Something that, for better or worse, will change the course of your family’s history forever.

[aetherdoesthings]

I LOVE FATHER FOAKJFKANFNDBS

Okay but imagine (i dont know if reader is young enough for this butttt). Child reader wants to spend time with father, but father is busy with paperwork. So reader proposes just sitting on her lap, promising they'll stay still and quiet. And reader does. And then they fall asleep in father's lap. So father carries reader to bed, kissing them on the forehead before saying good night.

I'm in love with good parent Arlecchino 🥺🥺 Is it fanon, yes, but I love her.

~EL anon

forethoughts: ignore the fact the name is still EL anon 😭 also how are you doing buddy? it's been a while. hope you're doing well! anyways, i hope this aligns with what you had requested a while back, and i hope you all enjoy Father being sweet!

notes: gn!reader but fem!reader in mind, Father being Father, NOT A SHIP/RELATIONSHIP READER IS A CHILD!!!, sweet fluff

You were the star student amongst your peers. Always did well on your exams and tests that the House of Hearth had to offer. Everyone around you was either wanting to be close friends or treat you terribly out of spite. You didn’t care about what the others said about you; you weren’t going to remember them in your future. But there was one voice and words you did care about.

Father.

The one who found you and took you in, provided a space for you to grow in your academics and life. The one who gave you a second chance when your biological parents didn’t.

You hoped that all your work and efforts one day would be able to pay Father back for the change she had given you. Of course, you also wished to hear her words of praise and approval directed at you. You knew from the teachers that Father received the grades of all children, and closely followed after each of them. Of course Father would've noticed you by now.

It had been more than two years when you joined the House of Hearth, and already ascended to the top in the academic realm. Many of the children had already isolated you, and you had closed off everyone in hopes of achieving your goal. So you spent your free time in the libraries reading while everyone else was playing in the fields. Did you feel alone at times? Yes. but you always reminded yourself that nothing else mattered other than repaying Father.

You were reading in your usual spot, on top of the shelves so the workers couldn’t find you. You ate your dinner on the wide shelves that nearly touched the ceiling, rereading a book from the library. Normal children and workers never thought about looking up. 

But Father was anything but normal.

“You’ll get a severe injury if you fall from this height.” Father’s voice rang in your ears, your entire body sitting upright, only to be reminded of the ceiling above you. You let out a wince, the pain of hitting the wooden tiles and being caught coursing through your veins. Gravity pulled on one of your sides, urging you to go back onto the ground. In your disoriented state, you listened, as your body fell from the top of the shelf. Before your mind could process anything, two strong arms wrapped around your frame, holding you tight to a warm feeling, the steady sound of a heartbeat next to your ears. When consciousness came back to you, you found yourself in a state of moving. Well, someone was moving you, while your neck was supported, your legs dangling off of an arm. 

“Father…?” You mumbled out, eyes still trying to piece the blurry puzzle together.

“Where does it hurt the most?” 

Your heart churned at the sound of Father’s voice. You cursed yourself for putting yourself in this circumstance and led Father to find you like this. If only you could talk to her in a more positive setting.

“...M-My head..” You answered, as Father’s white and black hairs came into focus. You could’ve sworn in your dazed state that you saw a flash of worry flicker in those crimson crosses that were the last thing many saw. 

Father murmured something under her breath, as she laid you down on the couch inside her office, your head resting on mountains of pillows as the sound of Father’s heels clicking across the office rang in your ears. Father sat you up, replacing one of the pillows with an ice pack. 

“Hold it against the spot that hurts, understood, Y/N?” Father ordered, her voice leaving no room for arguments. But you could sense an underlying tone of distress.

“Y-Yes, Father.” You replied, your eyes averting the gaze of those crimson crosses.

“If anything else hurts you will tell me instantly, understood?”

“Yes, Father.”

She let out a sigh once she was convinced by your simple short answers, standing up. “Since you are so adamant in isolating yourself, you will stay here until free time is over and it is time for bed.”

You swallowed, opting to not reply. From your peripherals, you could see Father resuming her work, doing what it took to run the orphanage. You chewed on your bottom lip. On one hand, this was the moment you had been dreaming of since you joined. Not being injured, but being in the same room as Father, alone, and her attention semi-focused on you. On the other hand, you were uncertain if you were on good terms with Father enough to let alone strike a conversation.

It might as well be your only chance.

“F-Father…” You stammered. The pen scratching against the paper abruptly came to a halt at your weak voice, waiting to hear the rest of your sentence.

“...m-my hand h-hurts from holding the ice pack, a-and it’s the c-couch is uncomfortable to rest on. C-Can..” you closed your eyes, “c-can I sit o-on your lap i-instead? It’ll be really c-comforting.”

It was the only way you could get closer and spend more time with the person that saved your life. You were grasping at straws, and you knew that. But your child self was craving the comfort only Father could provide. Hopefully Father still considered you young enough that she would do so. You definitely thought you were.

“I-I promise I’ll stay still. And silent.” You added, hoping that’ll tempt her.

A low noise rolled off Father’s tongue. You couldn’t tell if it was from annoyance or (you hoped) affection, as she stood up, her figure coming closer to you. You bit your lips to stop yourself from smiling like a fool as Father took the ice pack from your tiny grasp. 

“You find a way to reach the top of your classes, managing all the work on your shoulders at such a young age. That is applaudable.” Father remarked, as you settled onto her lap, one arm firmly securing your body and the hand holding the ice pack, while the other continued to fill out the paperwork. You beamed at her praise, a feeling of relief and content at the words you worked so hard to hear. 

“However, with all that intellect, you still haven't found a way to make companions.”

Your smile instantly soured at the next sentence, your mind flashing back to the memories of the interactions you had with your other peers. You knew you were smarter than the rest, and weren't scared to show it off. Perhaps that was the reason you ate on top of the shelves everyday. But you remembered the promise of staying silent.

Father noticed, let out an approved hum, seemingly expecting you to break your promise. “I commend your academic and athletic talents especially at your age, Y/N. But don’t fly too close to the sun and forget those who walk on the ground.”

It had been a few minutes since Arlecchino said her piece, knowing that you would want to hear it the most. She knew about the efforts you had made in order to make a name for yourself, and gain her attention. And you did exactly that. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t impressed by your abilities. If this continued, perhaps the Tsaritsa would offer you a job at such a ripe age. Then again, Arlecchino would try to interfere. She knew of the Fatui ins and outs, and despite training an orphanage to work under the Tsaritsa, a part of her she kept locked away felt as if she was truly the Father to all the orphans, including but not limited to you. 

She had finished half of her work when the Harbinger decided to check up on you. Unbeknownst to her, you had cuddled up against Arlecchino’s chest, the slow rise and fall of your chest bringing a warm feeling to her heart. She set her pen down, and the ice pack, taking the moment to admire your vulnerable form. It was probably one of the moments you had allowed yourself to relax after working for years to only hear words that lasted for seconds. Arlecchino placed both hands around you, her legs taking their time to be in an upright position before strolling towards your room, making sure her heels weren’t making too much noise that would disrupt you.

Arlecchino set you down in your bed, tucking you in underneath the plush blankets as she planted her lips on your forehead.

“Sweet dreams, my little star.” 

[genderfluid-insomniac]

“Wait for me” dead!Macaque x living!reader (1.5k words)

A/N: I know I’m mixing pantheons but I’ve been back on a musical hype and this time around it’s been Hadestown. I love the musical too much and it came to mind when listening to “Wait for Me (reprise)” that the Orpheus and Eurydice characters would work for Macaque and another person. Although terribly angsty I must fulfill my heart's desires.

The reader is currently walking up to the living world after convincing the god of the underworld to go on a trial to get their lover the Six-Eared Macaque back home with them. The trick is that if they look back at Macaque before they reach the surface he has to go back to the underworld.

otherwise known as the Orpheus and Eurydice myth from the author Virgil and/or Ovid

This story is told from the reader’s perspective who knew, met, and fell in love with Macaque before his confrontation with Wukong. So it might seem that they’re being too hard on Wukong for killing his sworn brother when they yell at him but they don’t know everything that happened between them. ***Only the rumors of Sun Wukong from local towns and what Macaque told them.*** So I just wanted to make that clear.

Although you knew you had begun the trial and Macaque must have been behind you, you couldn’t hear him and yet still you walked. Step after step of hoping you weren’t tricked by them. All you wanted to be back in his arms, dancing in the moonlight and counting the stars until dawn arrived. You remembered it as clear as day. You were just on a walk with him, strolling through the woods and laughing about a forest spirit you had run into who mistook you as being kidnapped only to apologize when it was clear you both were in love.

It was calm and quiet as most days were but Macaque heard something, someone, someone who he once called his brother. They hadn’t seen each other in centuries and the last they saw of one another wasn’t pleasant. At least that’s all that Macaque had told you and insisted that it was too painful to talk about which you respected. You both trusted each other more than anything and you hoped it’d get you through everything.

You didn’t know what caused that fight or whether it was fate or a coincidence that they saw one another that day after almost a thousand years. Flashes and shouts could be heard as they both clashed against one another. For a demon, the fight would be easier to see but you could only catch bits and pieces of the battle, seeing both celestial primates create big craters in nearby mountains and strong gales whipping across the land surrounding them.

Truthfully you were terrified for your life a couple of times as trunks of big trees were flung your way and when gales of wind threatened to carry you off the ground. Through all of it, your eyes desperately searched for Macaque in hopes of seeing anything pointing to his survival. That moment almost froze in time as someone whom you now recognized as Sun Wukong “Great Sage Equal to Heaven” stood over your lover. Before you knew it you raced to where they both were and ignored the scrapes and cuts you got from recklessly running through a battleground.

Sure you heard the rumors of the Monkey King traveling west from folks in nearby towns or villages but the demon you saw before was nothing like you had heard and you saw him raise his staff high. You wanted to cry out, scream, do anything to get him to stop to your voice failed to obey you. He fiercely growled before yelling and striking Macaque who lay at the bottom of a crater covered in severe injuries with his staff. Most notably three large gashes over his right eye, the blood hadn’t clotted yet and you doubted it would even if he came out alive.

You let out a sob as you thought about those last couple of words. “if he came out alive”. Catching his gaze for a second those few seconds held a thousand words. Despite the shadow of death inches away from ending his life, he still smiled with so much love in his eyes and hoped that you could continue to live your life with the promise of finding joy in the smallest things. He wished that you could forgive him for leaving you so soon when he’d assured you so much love and happiness in your future.

Both of you wanted time to stop, for anything to stop the inevitable, a miracle to happen. You couldn’t though. The last thing you would ever see of him would be through your warped teary vision, his midnight black fur caked with thick blood and deep cuts decorated his strong-built body. His beloved scarf that he treasured so much lay on the ground torn severely and a mix of blood and dirt obscured parts of his beautiful vibrant six ears; now partially covered in small cuts on the edges of each colorful lotus petal-shaped ear. Although one of his eyes had been badly damaged surely beyond repair you could see his gold shining eye meeting yours and sharing one last glance before the red powerful staff came down on Macaque.

Sun Wukong had light tears falling down his cheeks and slowly approached the now-still demon’s body with shaking hands, letting his staff fall from his grip and clattering to the ground. There was so much conflict in his expression and hesitation as to whether he should even touch his fallen brethren but you rushed in. Dirt, blood, and bruises clung to you as you tumbled into the crater and collapsed on your lover, sobbing harshly at the reality now hitting you and gripping the soft torn yellow and black fabric of his layered hanfu. You cried out in pain not caring about the outside world because if something happened to you then at least you’d be reunited with one another.

A firm hand gripped your shoulder and tried to pry you off to no success, his insistence on getting you to safety and pressing the message that no mortals should be here fell on deaf ears. You didn’t care about the things you said getting up weakly and shoving the Monkey King’s chest with shaky hands. “I don’t care! You killed him! You bastard! He told me you were once close.” you shouted and raised a hand, slapping the left side of his face hard and seeing him hiss through his teeth when you hit a deep cut on his cheekbone.

The world was silent. Not a leaf fell or animal chittered. Only when you turned around to go back to mourning the death of someone you loved so much and knew they loved you just as much did you hear the footsteps of others. Probably the Great Sage’s companions who came to see who the victor was. You could feel 5 pairs of eyes on you and guessed the dozens of questions they had of why a random mortal was crying over a powerful demon’s corpse. One of the travelers came towards you as you cradled Macaque in your arms, an unkempt pig demon walking towards you and gleefully shouting, “Don’t cry beautiful mortal. You’re saved from the horrible demon that kidnapped you, and his power is gone! Let us help-” he was cut off by Sun Wukong tugging him back before he could touch you.

You did your best to hold in the sobs and despair you had, forcing yourself to look up and focus on the demon responsible for all of your pain. “Go. Go and live knowing you not only killed someone close to you but broke the heart of his lover. I’m sure he’s resting peacefully now.” you spat. After a few tries you managed to pick Macaque up with his head resting on your chest and carefully walked back near to where you both lived. You didn’t bother to see Sun Wukong’s expression when to told him who you were to Macaque and how it cracked into shock and anguish.

That had been almost 2 months ago until you’d finally found a local mountain god that accepted your offering in exchange for information about how to get to the underworld and after you made your trek through hell you bargained with King Yan for your lover’s soul. Another rock bounced off your shoe and hit the gravel path. You couldn’t hear his footsteps or voice or breath and you questioned if he was even behind you at all. Memories of the good times you both shared pooled in your mind and allowed a soft smile to sneak up on your face. How you had both first met because of him mistaking you for an easy victim. Safe to say he failed to do anything because you fought back decently.

Your meetings were always by surprise at first but then Macaque began to show up regularly and seemed more curious about what you did and who you were. It was obvious he could do something else rather than “wasting” time on someone he failed to kill but you caught his interest. The same game was played fairly often until a week passed when he disappeared and you thought that was it. You were happily surprised when you went to your regular sight to gather herbs and saw sizable bundles of each herb you usually picked tied up all in a basket. Macaque ended up rising from the shadow of a nearby Rainbow Gum tree and apologizing for disappearing but offering to repay you. That night he confessed underneath the stars looking at the moon while he told you stories he heard during his travels.

A bright light blinded you in the dark tunnel that was now slowly opening into the base of the mountain you entered hours ago and you fought through the tight v-shaped opening until you reached the edge where obsidian-shaded gravel met the healthy forest floor. You couldn’t tell if it was you or Macaque who let out a sigh of relief.

“You’re here.”

[forestkniight]

I'll Be Seeing You

✯ Chapter 1 ✯

Okay, it's been a while since I've written a fic that wasn't a one-shot, so I'm really hoping that it's something I can keep up with. I currently have about four chapters planned, but they are still developing. Even in this chapter, I changed a few things to make the story flow better!

Pairing: Fizzarolli x reader (still debating if I want to make it a polyamorous relationship eventually)

Warning: Swearing

Word Count: 3K

When you’re a kid, the sky's the limit regarding your dreams. No one expects you to have it all figured out, and for the most part, a little voice in your head tells you that you’ll make it out of your situation. Little did you know, it would come at a cost. 

~~

Clutching your chest, you quickly sit up as you try to calm your frantic heartbeat. Several weeks have passed, and you keep having dreams of your past and all the choices that got you where you are today. You take a breath as you look at the slivers of red that pass through the opening of your curtain. 

How long has it been since you fell asleep?

You sigh as you reach for your phone to catch up on anything you might have missed while sleeping, which wasn’t much. Nothing new there. You lay back in bed and stare at the ceiling. These days seem to be going by slower, and you blame it on the lack of sleep due to the dreams. 

Flashes of red and white. 

Of horses.

Of black and white horns.

You shake your head as you check the time. It was still early, and you wouldn’t have to check into work until later on. You currently work as a singer at a live music club in the Pride Ring. You didn’t live an expensive life, but you were content for the most part, especially when you got to sing. When you were a child, all you ever wanted to do was perform in front of people and make them feel something. You never got that opportunity as a child, though. You wince as a memory enters your mind.

“Blitzo! I have to clean that up,” you pouted as you picked up the garbage your friend tossed everywhere on the floor. 

“It’s not my fault you got me a gift and made it impossible to open,” Blitzo says while trying to untape the gift box that was previously in another taped-up gift box. 

You couldn’t help but smile widely as you waited for Blitzo to finally get to the actual gift. You glanced at Fizz, who was just as excited about the gift as your other friend. As if sensing your gaze, he looked up at you and stuck his tongue out at you.

“This is low, even for you! You know Blitzo can’t resist a gift,” Fizz teased.

You giggled as you saw Blitzo’s frustration at opening the gift box and finding yet another gift box inside. 

“Well, I couldn’t make it easy for him,” you said, reaching out to grab the discarded tape Blitzo had thrown to the side. " Besides, his gift is in the next box.”

Fizz smiled and shook his head at you. He looked back at Blitzo's hand, and he was close to opening the final gift box. Once he managed it, he removed its contents.

“No way,” Blitzo’s eyes lit up as he took out a little gold figurine of a horse and a heart-shaped locket.

“I was walking around some shops in my free time and saw it in the window. I knew right away that it was meant for you,” you said as Blitzo launched himself at you, nearly tackling you.

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou,” he said as he hugged you before releasing you to admire his new figurine some more. 

“It’s no problem, Blitzo! You deserve it and more. Now,” you turn and take another gift box from close by, “I couldn’t forget a gift for my second favorite clown!”

Blitzo giggles as Fizz slightly frowns.

“Not funny.”

“Awww, come on Fizz. I’m just joking. You know you’re my favorite,” you giggled as Blitzo’s jaw dropped. 

Fizz instantly beams at the use of the word favorite. 

“Anyways, I saw this in the window, and I-”

“What’s going on here?”

The three of you turn towards the voice belonging to Blitzo’s dad, Cash. 

“Look, Dad! It’s a gold-”

“Shouldn’t you be cleaning the bleachers,” Cash turns to look at you, “They’re not cleaning themselves, girl!”

You felt your face flush in embarrassment at being talked down to in front of your friends, especially when they had acts in the circus. You were just a janitor for all intents and purposes. 

“Sir, I was just taking a little break with my friends,” you said with a tiny voice.

You hated feeling so small—not in a childlike way, but in a way that made you feel like your life was worth less because you were there to clean everybody else’s mess. 

“If you want a break, how about I fire you now, and you get all the breaks you want, huh? And what did I tell you about distracting my star,” Cash snapped at you. 

You felt your eyes tear up as you looked at Blitzo, whose head hung low. You felt bad for him. His own father preferred another boy as his son. You remembered the time his father had sold him for such a low cost and made him steal. That felt like so long ago now.

“I know, sir, but we’re kids too…We just want-”

“I don’t care! Fizzarolli, do you think that big clowns get to where they are because they spend their time talking to the help,” Cash said cruelly.

You turned to look at Fizz. He looked down at the unopened gift box in his hands before setting it slightly off to the side. 

“Fizzy?”

Your voice cracked as you realized he wasn’t going to respond. You looked up at Cash and saw the shit-eating grin he had on his face. You couldn’t help the tears beginning to pool in your eyes.

“I’ll get started right away, sir. I hope you enjoy your gift, Blitzo. Sorry for distracting you from your work, Fizzarolli,” you said bitterly. 

Cash watched as you picked up the last remnants of trash from Blitzo’s gift. You stood up and were getting ready to leave, but not before quickly snatching the letter attached to Fizz’s gift. You could see Fizz’s distress at your action, and you watched him throw a random piece of trash he had been playing with in front of him. Still, you walked forward. You wanted to walk away with some dignity.

“Aren’t you going to pick that up,” Cash barked at you, looking at the scrap in front of Fizz. 

Blitzo and Fizz looked at you as you slowly walked before him and picked up the scrap of trash, a tear running down your face. You couldn’t even bear looking at either of them at this point. You sprinted out of the small tent to head to the main tent and begin your work.

Your heart tugs as you push the memory out of your head. It was bad enough living through it. You don't need to be reminded of it anymore, considering you’ve seen commercials of Blitzø and Fizzarolli as adults. It hurt seeing their faces, especially after the way you left. Still, you wouldn’t allow yourself to dwell on it for longer than a few minutes. There was no point. Thinking about it wouldn’t change what happened. 

~~

After lazing around all day, you finally begin walking to work. You could take a car there, but it was so close, and you enjoy the time it gives you to mentally prepare. While performing was always your dream, it still got you nervous, especially if the crowd in the club was bigger than usual. Some days, the line would stretch outside the club door’s entrance. 

As you walk down the street, looking at the sights, you catch sight of a locket in one of the shop windows. You stop as you instinctively reach up to your locket tucked away under your shirt. You feel a ghost of a smile as you remember the gift you had given Blitzo and Fizzarolli. Your locket had pictures of a young Blitzo and Fizzarolli, Blitzo’s had a picture of you and Fizzarolli, and Fizzarolli’s had a picture of you and Blitzo. You sigh as you wish you could have seen Fizz’s reaction to the locket (and the letter, but that was neither here nor there). 

You see the club fast approaching and notice people already arriving for the night. So much for practicing on stage when you arrive. It must have been one of those nights when they would open the club a bit earlier. 

You quickly step to the side entrance and are let in by one of the bartenders on break. You shoot them a quick smile before finding your way to your dressing room. You always need a moment to take a breath and warm up. You begin humming as you apply minimal makeup. You just required enough so that the spotlight wouldn’t wash you out. You hear faint music in the background as you look at the door of your room through the mirror’s reflection, another memory sneaking back up. 

After cleaning the main tent, you decided to retire to the secret location you went to when you felt sad. You would typically watch your friends perform, but you didn’t want to talk to anyone about what happened earlier. You figured you could stay there until late at night before sneaking back into your tent. 

You finally made it to the location, which consisted of a lot of open space and a giant tree you liked to sit under. You softly threw yourself under the tree as you looked up at the sky, which always seemed to be the same shade of red despite the time. You closed your eyes as you tried to find a way to pass the time. However, your eyes shot open when you heard a tree branch rustling. Before you knew it, something, or more like someone, swung down from the tree branch to sit next to you.

“Heya,” Blitzo said, throwing his hands out and laying beside you. 

You rolled your eyes at how he seemed to have forgotten what had transpired earlier. 

“Blitzo, I told you to stop coming here! This is my secret place,” you whined. 

Blitzo turned to look at you, and it was his turn to roll his eyes.

“It’s not exactly a secret if people can easily walk to it from the circus.”

“Still…” 

You wanted to be alone, but Blitzo always had a way of showing up when that was the case. Some part of you was glad. Even though you wanted to be alone, it didn’t mean that was what you needed, and being around Blitzo always made you feel better. You were content to stay silent, but that wasn’t what Blitzo had in mind.

“Oh! Fizz wants to see you after the show. He wants to talk to you and get the complete gift,” Blitzo said as he sat up, looking down at you.

You quirked your eyebrow as you sat up as well. The complete gift? He must be on about the letter. 

“I wouldn’t want to distract Fizzarolli from all the important stuff he has to do,” your words are filled with sarcasm. 

“He’s coming here whether you like it or not. My dad can’t be the reason your friendship goes down the drain,” he plays with his hands, “he can’t ruin anything else.”

You feel your attitude drop at that last part. You make eye contact with him and nod to confirm that you will give Fizz the complete gift. He smiles slightly, and your eyes catch the locket around his neck. You feel a smile start to spread. He follows your gaze and rolls your eyes.

“Yea, yea. It’s not a big deal,” he stands. " Anyway, I've got to get ready for the show, but I’ll see you after, okay?”

“Alright,” you respond hesitantly as you watch him start the walk back to the main circus tent. Eventually, he walks into the tent, leaving you alone again.

You reach down to your pocket where you had folded up the letter you would give to Fizz. You had spent so much time ensuring everything was perfect, only for the moment to be ruined. You sigh and throw yourself back again, allowing the tears to reappear. This was a safe place to do so. 

The wind was blowing slightly, and you couldn’t help but reflect on your life at the circus. You had joined after you were left alone due to…circumstances. Luckily for you, Fizz and Blitzo found you on the street and asked if you were alright. If only little you could see where you were now. Would you have taken their outstretched hands? 

You didn’t know how much time had passed, but you did know it wasn’t long until people started flooding out of the tents. You felt your stomach do flips. Were you ready to tell Fizz what the letter said, especially after his silence today? Your love for him was unconditional. You only ever saw Fizz, your best friend, not Fizzarolli, the performer. You cared so deeply for him and Blitzo. They saved you and made a home in your heart that would never disappear, but you were dreaming if you thought they would ever forget your place at the circus. 

But what did that mean for you? Would you be willing to stay in a place that would lead to you yearning for something that would never happen? Were you willing to stand by and watch your friends move on in life without you? Fall in love without you? Watch Fizz fall in love with someone? 

You sat up as tears began flowing faster down your face. Your heart was in your throat as years of self-hate and pain started pouring out. Your sobs become audible. 

No, you wouldn’t become the pathetic friend who fell in love with someone they couldn’t have, the pathetic friend who thought that what they did didn’t matter as much as who they were. 

You looked up at the circus, a decision being made in your mind. You stood up and quickly ran back to your tent. You tried to listen to the performance and realized it was two acts from the end. You quickly grabbed your backpack and packed only the most valuable things you owned. The rest could be replaced, but things like gifts from your friends, items from your past before the circus, and even a hoodie from the circus were something you couldn’t part with. 

The final act was beginning—Blitzo and Fizz’s duo act. Your heart pounded as you thought about what you were doing. It wouldn’t hurt to try to see just the beginning, so you left your backpack hidden by the circus’ entrance. You snuck into the main tent and climbed to a location where only Blitzo and Fizz could see you. They still hadn’t dropped down, and you saw them messing around from across the space. Blitzo saw you first, and he beamed at you as he waved. You couldn’t help the smile that automatically appeared as you waved back. Fizz turned to see what he was waving at and saw you. He gave you a soft smile with a hesitant wave, and you felt your smile falter. 

Your first love. That’s what it was. Boy, was it frightening. But you wouldn’t fuck up his life. You knew he would make it far without you. You gave him a sad smile and noticed both of their concerned expressions. 

‘Why?’ You see Blitzo mouth, and your eyebrows raise. He mimes tears, and you reach up and feel them. 

You quickly wiped them away and chuckled to yourself. You’re terrible at leaving, but you had to, and their entrance was fast approaching.

‘It’s fine, I’m okay,’ you mouth back with gestures to match. 

They look at each other before turning to look at you worriedly. They can’t do anything, though.  They won’t. They have their jobs to do. You watched Fizz grab the rope nearby that he would swing down on, but not before turning to look at you again.

‘See you after,’ he mouths before raising his voice to ask Blitzo if he is ready. You begin making your descent, and you walk out of the tent. You quickly grab your backpack and take off at full speed towards the tree. 

FIzz was the one who showed you this tree. You liked pretending it was a secret space just for you, but it was all of yours. You stared up at it, and you felt the tears come back. You were okay, though. This was for the best. You pull out the letter you wrote to Fizz and place it at the tree's base. You didn’t bother weighing it down. If it flew away, it’d probably be a sign. Part of you hoped it would blow away, just like you. You turn towards the main tent and notice the early leavers are already spilling out. 

“There’s the rest of the gift, Fizzy. I hope you enjoy it as much as I've enjoyed getting to know you��the both of you. You saved my life in more ways than you know. I know you’ll do great things,” you whisper as you turn to leave. You hear the sound of people getting louder, and you run—for the second time in your life. 

Your eyes focus on your figure in the mirror, and your mascara was running a bit. 

“Damn it,” you move to get tissue papers, “I need to stop thinking back. We’re all better off now.”

You look unconvinced in the mirror and try on a smile to trick your body into believing it is okay. 

“It’s fine, you’re okay,” you whisper. 

You hear a knock on your door, followed by the stage manager’s minute warning. You take a deep breath and look at yourself in the mirror again. 

You looked like a proper singer. You smile gently and head out to the club's backstage area. The curtains are closed, and you can hear the hum of music and people having fun. You hear the emcee announcing your act next, and you can’t help but think about how far you have come. 

You did it. You made it out.

The curtains open, and the spotlight lands on you.

I hope you all enjoyed this first chapter! I'm really pumped to get the rest of these chapters written and published. I don't have a set timeline since I'm currently in college, working a job, and performing in a theater production, but I will try to work on this whenever I can!

Also, just a little spoiler: in the next chapter, we will see someone from our main narrator's past (outside of flashbacks)!

Edit: The original name of this fic was "Dream a Little Dream of Me," but I have decided to change it to "I'll Be Seeing You" since this song fits the story a bit more!

[euphreana]

The Shape of Truth - Chapter 7: Unit 531

Masterpost

-

Knightly Storage required a passcode to get in. The key tag hadn’t included that - it just had the name and unit number; 531. And 531 wasn’t the code.

The storage building was a tall, stone structure with a side entrance hidden from the street by some towering bushes. An awning over the door blocked the rain as Ambrosius stared at the keypad next to the doorway. Nimona, next to him, shifted into a hulking humanoid with large hands.

“We could break in.” She said with a grin, flexing an arm.

Ambrosius rolled his eyes.

“That would be illegal.”

Nimona smirked and shifted back to a teen.

“As if today wasn’t already toeing the line.”

“We didn’t… break any laws.”

“Sure. We just bent them a little.”

“Exactly. A knight must uphold the rules that keep us in order.”

Nimona groaned.

“Come on… don’t tell me you haven't broken at least ONE rule at least ONCE in your life.”

Ambrosius still looked unamused.

“Even if I did, I wouldn't be telling YOU about it.”

“Aw, why not?”

“Because I still don't know anything about you! I don't even know how old you are, or if ‘Nimona’ is even your real name!”

Nimona was silent while Ambrosius tried to figure out the door code, punching in several numerical combinations off the top of his head. The keypad flashed red each time.

Nimona’s voice broke his concentration.

“They never told you how your dad really died, did they?” she said, seemingly out of nowhere.

Ambrosius gave her a side glance.

“What in Gloreth's name are you talking about?”

“I mean you were just a kid - they didn't want you to think he was a bad man or anything - nothing you could possibly blabber to the wrong person about. They told you he went out for a few drinks with his knight buddies, got plastered, and then walked in front of a speeding truck, right?”

Ambrosius looked wary.

“That's... what happened.”

“That's what they WANTED you to think happened. That's what they wanted EVERYONE to think happened. They couldn't let Gloreth's name get dragged in the mud, could they?”

Ambrosius didn’t look convinced.

“So you're saying there was a coverup.”

"I'm saying you never saw him drunk before, did you?”

“I don’t remember. Maybe?”

“Believe me, you didn’t.”

“How would you know?”

“I’m telling you - I’m full of information about your family.”

Ambrosius turned back to the keypad.

“Aaaand now you're just sounding creepy. One less reason for me to trust you.”

“Think about it though! The man never got drunk. So how did he get so tipsy that night he didn't see the truck coming?”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

“Hey, you don't have to take my word for it - with your rank, you can go to the medical records building and see the original coroner's report for yourself.”

Ambrosius typed in another combination.

“Maybe I will. Or maybe I won't. What difference would it make? He’s still dead.”

The keypad flashed red again. Ambrosius sighed. He was quickly realizing he could stand here all day trying different combinations and none of them work. He waved a hand towards the other side of the building.

“Come on, let’s go to the office.”

“I still vote ‘break in’.”

Ambrosius gave her a weary look. Nimona held her hands up.

“I mean bend, not break.”

~ ~ ~

There was already a woman arguing with the clerk when Nimona, now matching Ambrosius’s height and age, entered the office, followed by Ambrosius himself. Fortunately, there was another worker passing by whom Nimona was able to flag down.

“Heeeeeey… I totally forgot the passcode for the door. Could you let me in?”

The worker pointed to the desk.

“Sure, just show them your ID.”

“ID… yeah… you know, I think I left it at home. I just ran over here to get something” she dangled the storage key in her hand.

The worker gave a forced smile.

“Talk to the desk.”

They both looked at the discussion at the desk. It didn’t look like it was going to end soon.

Nimona held a hand up, “Come on, me and my brother just need to grab something real quick.”

“Talk to the desk.”

“What if I slid you a 20 goldpiece?”

“Talk to the desk.” The worker pushed past her, off on their own errand.

Nimona glanced at Ambrosius with a look that said ‘ok we tried it your way and it didn’t work.’ Ambrosius shrugged and jerked his head towards the desk. This could still work - his own ID would draw attention, but maybe Nimona could work something out.

“For the last time, we can’t let you use acid on the lock!” The clerk behind the desk was saying, “You either find your key or find a licensed locksmith to remove the lock for you.”

The woman in front of the desk waved a hand desperately.

“But what if—”

“We can recommend a locksmith for you if you don’t want to do the footwork yourself.”

“— I fill the lock with water, and then freeze it! Water expands when frozen, so the lock should break right off!”

“Miss Bitsmore, there are other people waiting in line behind you.”

“It’s Blitzmeyer! Meredith Blitzmeyer!”

“Miss Blitzmeyer, would you like the number for the locksmith or not?”

“I’m telling you, I can’t afford a locksmith! My lab burned down and I’m living off savings!”

Ambrosius’s ears perked up. The initials from the sword invoice flashed in his mind. MB!

The clerk didn’t miss a beat, sliding a business card across the desk.

“You can find the number here. Let us know when you plan to come. Next!”

The woman waved her hands in exasperation and stomped out the door, not bothering to take the card. The clerk tapped an intercom button on the desk.

“Hey, keep an eye on unit 531 - we might get someone trying to break into it.” Then the clerk looked up at Nimona. “Can I help you?”

Nimona gave a toothy grin.

“Heyyyy, I need to get in but I forgot the passcode. My ID is—”

Ambrosius hurried forward and grabbed Nimona by the arm.

“Hey you know what? I think I remember where you left your ID!” He pulled her toward the door. “Come on!”

~ ~ ~

It had started to rain in earnest now. Meredith Blitzmeyer walked hands-free, umbrella balanced on her shoulder thanks to the weights built into the bent shaft and handle. She'd designed that part herself, and more.

“Excuse me missus umbrella lady...”

Meredith looked down to see a small boy suddenly standing in front of her. He was dressed in tatters and looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

“I can't find my mommy... She went through that scary alley over there.” the child pointed, shivering in the rain. “Could you help me find her? Pwease....?” He looked up at her with sad puppy eyes.

Meredith glanced around. There were other people walking down the street, but nobody was stopping to see if the child was alright. Nobody except her. She sighed.

“Come on, let’s find your mom.” She took the child by the hand and started down the alleyway.

She hadn’t gotten far before she sensed someone else behind her. She glanced over her shoulder. Sure enough, there was a tall, hooded figure barely a meter behind her. Of course. Meredith could have slapped herself for being so gullible.

The hooded figure reached out, but Meredith was faster. Before either the child or the stranger could react, she’d swung her umbrella off her shoulder, collapsing it and shoving the end into the stranger’s chest. A crackle of electricity rippled through the air and the hooded figured dropped like a stone.

Meredith broke into a run. The street was close. Just a few meters… A beastly snarl echoed down the alley as a set of jaws clamped around her leg, yanking her to the ground. Meredith tried to get back up, but the grip on her leg wouldn’t let go. It started to drag her backwards, away from the street, back into the dark alley.

The electrified umbrella was still in her hands. Meredith turned and swung it at the beast, electricity arcing at its tip. She almost hit it. It let go of her instead, ducking out of the way. That was all the time she needed to get back to her feet. But before she could run, the hooded figure slammed into her, knocking her back to the ground. Then the beast - a large, pink wolf - grabbed the umbrella in its jaws and yanked it away.

Meredith blinked in surprise. Pink? The next thing she knew, the hooded figure had rolled off her and the wolf was towering above her, teeth bared.

A man’s voice rang out, angry.

“Who are you working for?!”

The question caught Meredith by surprise.

“What?!”

“We know you ordered the sword!”

“I didn’t—”

“We have paperwork - with your initials on it! You had the sword - the sword that killed the queen - the sword that framed Ballister, that got him killed…” The man’s voice broke.

Meredith tried to look at the source of the voice, but the wolf growled at the slightest movement. The man found his voice again, wavering as it was.

“I should turn you in now. There’s enough evidence here. That’ll be enough to prove his innocence, and then… then…”

The wolf spoke in a female voice.

“Hey, keep it together man. We’ve got an interrogation here.”

Meredith, fully bewildered by now, broke in.

“I didn’t do it! They ordered the sword in my name and then burned down my lab when I said I wouldn’t put the blaster in it! …. I can show you the emails!”

The man sank to his knees next to her. Meredith got a look at his face.

“Wait, you’re the Goldenlocks guy!”

Ambrosius didn’t bat an eye.

“Yeah. Something like that.”

“Ohhh no… I- I didn’t do anything wrong! I swear I thought I was designing mining equipment! Good Gloreth I talk too much…”

“Why didn’t you say something after they arrested Ballister?”

“I thought he was the one who’d ordered the sword! I- I didn’t want to get in any more trouble!” Meredith blinked several times under her glasses. “They already killed my friends in the fire…”

There was a long silence. Then the wolf spoke again.

“You think she’s telling the truth?”

“Not all of it.” Ambrosius turned back to Meredith. “You said there were emails. Show me.”

Meredith hesitated.

“Ah, you see, I don’t have my work email on my phone - I use my laptop for that. And I left that at home.”

Silence. Meredith spoke again.

“So if you could let me go….”

“We found this at your old lab.” Ambrosius said, holding up the misplaced storage key.

Meredith’s eyes grew wide. Ambrosius pocketed the key and continued.

“Meet us at the library. We’ll be in a study room under the name ‘Goldenlocks’. Bring the laptop. Otherwise I toss the key and give the sword invoice to Security.”

“But… I have somewhere to be…”

“You have two hours.”

Meredith looked like she wanted to say something else, but thought better of it. She didn’t want to get on the bad side of a noble, much less a knight. She nodded instead.

The wolf backed up. Meredith scuttled backwards, grabbing her umbrella and getting to her feet. She paused to brush the water from her clothes.

"If I can ask... You said you thought Ballister was framed. Why? Didn't he confess to the murder?"

Ambrosius hesitated.

"I don't think that confession was from him. It didn't... sound like him."

Meredith gave an unimpressed “Oh,” then flicked her umbrella open and hurried back to the street. Still in the alley, Nimona shifted back to dog form, suddenly dry as she ducked under an overhang. Ambrosius turned away, rubbing his eyes. Nimona looked up at him.

“You okay, boss?”

Ambrosius didn’t look at her.

“… It was just yesterday. They published the confession at noon, and he was dead before sunset.” He leaned back against the wall. “I didn’t even get to see him...”

Nimona sat next to him, pressing her furry head under his hand. Ambrosius reflexively ran his fingers through her fur, appreciating the softness. He cracked the faintest smile. So that was what having a dog was like.

Next Chapter

[nyuusayuri]

Captain Koby x Reader

Unbreakable Bonds [Part 1/3]

Warnings: Upcoming smut in Part 2, slight swearing, mention of smoking

I apologize for upcoming spelling mistakes, but English is not my native language - hope you still enjoy it!

Everything was dark as my consciousness slowly seemed to return. My back hurts, as if I had fallen 5m and landed on a cold board. Probably because it was like that. Except that at the last second my fall was gentler than expected. Grumbling, I held my head, which was buzzing like it did after 3 nights of partying with Shanks and his crew. Still slightly dazed, I opened my eyes a crack and realized that I was in a dark, cold room with no windows to let in some light. Only the bars opposite of me, behind which I could see light and a lonely desk with a chair.

I sat up heavily and held my back the next second when a sharp pain shot through me, causing me to grit my teeth tightly to keep from accidentally crying out. Parts of my memory from yesterday flashed back to me and showed me how, after a fierce battle against the Marine, at some point I only saw smoke and was almost crushed under the wreckage when I tried to escape. But only almost. I can only vaguely remember the hint of something...pink. "What rubbish. Why did the damn Marine have to show up at exactly this time." To my right, I heard the click of a lock and decided to continue pretending to be asleep in order to perhaps find out more about my whereabouts.

"I'm sorry, Vice Admiral. Seems like the prisoner still hasn't woken up. I'm not surprised by the blow you gave her." "It doesn't matter. Sooner or later she'll have to wake up and talk. Those damn pirates are really nothing but trouble. We'll take her to Captain Koby's ship at the next port anyway. I have something else to do other than dealing with these annoying pirates. I'm sure he'll get something out of her,"came an annoyed voice, sounding so deep and rough, as if someone was inhaling nothing but smoke. But in a strange way it still sounded quite pleasant. "Ai ai Vice Admiral Smoker. We will inform the other ship immediately." The next moment the footsteps moved away again, but I stayed there until the door closed.

So Vice Admiral Smoker. It's a miracle I escaped with my life if he was the one chasing me. For all the hours that passed I tried desperately to find a way out, but unfortunately the Marine had thought these cells through really well, so in the end I had no choice but to give up and sit in a dark corner. "Then I guess I'll have to think about something while they try to transport me to the other ship." Sighing, I let my head fall against the wall behind me and stared at the ceiling. I still have these hazy memories of something pink, but I can't even think of what that could have been. "Hmm... I would be interested to know who I owe my life to. Even I would have barely survived a fight against Smoker." And so time passed until the ship finally seemed to dock at the next harbor. The only thing I noticed was the jerky movement of the ship as it was tied up, along with the hasty footsteps of the crew milling about on the deck above me, trying to prepare everything for a safe transport.

The next moment several Marines ran down the stairs and burst through the door. Everyone lined up, some seemed nervous and almost shitting their pants, while others showed no emotions and this was probably an everyday occurrence for them. A short time later he appeared in all his glory. Vice Admiral Smoker. Or how I liked to call him: Mr. Smoking hot. He looked at me grimly and I just responded with a mischievous grin. “Well, look at that. If that's not my good old Smokey." I slowly walked towards the bars and clutched them with both hands as I leaned closer to him. "I heard you wanted to push me away. And I thought we were finally getting closer." “Don’t even try it Y/N. That hasn't worked for me before and it won't work now either. We're transporting you over to Captain Koby's ship. He'll have more time for your little games than I do." Annoyed, he pulled the corners of his mouth down, at least as far as he could with two cigars in his mouth, before he gave the order to get me out of the cell and put me in chains.

On the way outside, after what felt like an eternity, I got some fresh air again and enjoyed the warm rays of sunshine on my skin. My eyes didn't seem too excited about the sudden brightness, though, so I had to squint them in order to not get blinded. "Smoker-kun!" A very bright and joyful voice came from a distance and seemed to be slowly approaching. My eyes slowly adjusted to the light and I could finally see clearly where we were. Near another ship I saw 2 strange figures. One had long blonde hair and a... very strange chin. When I looked at the other one next to him my body froze and my eyes went wide. That pink hair. No! That can't be! It was him...who saved me? A Captain of the Marines? "Come on! Move, you miserable priate scum!" One of the soldiers behind me pushed me forward with a shove in the back, I gave him an angry glance and continued to walk.

We walked straight towards the other ship and I could see more and more clearly who was actually standing in front of me. Captain Koby smiled and greeted his superior and then turned to me. Even though he didn't give me a smile like he did the Vice Admiral, I still felt a certain tenderness on his part. "Don't worry, Smoker-kun. Leave it to me. I'll get her to tell us something about the scroll." I looked at him in shock. The scroll! So that's why they hired someone as high as Smoker to target me. I twisted my mouth in annoyance and lowered my gaze to the floor. This could get funny.

[wndaswife]

Hey!

Could you please write a dark fic with Wanda being very jealous and possessive??

-🪐

wanda maximoff & fem!reader

tags: smut, unspecified age gap, masturbation, squirting, face slapping, dumbification, drugging, manipulation, mommy kink, dom!wanda maximoff, sub!reader. MINORS DNI.

word count: 1042

Wanda avoided bringing up the subject of your old family, your parents and your friends from school. It only confused you when you tried to imagine a life that had taken place before you started living with mommy.

Your first interaction with her was innocent enough. Wanda had seen you move into your new house during the summer, and she simply could not take her eyes away from your pretty face and your cute little body. You were much younger than she was, and younger than her sons, too. They’d grown up and moved away, and hardly ever saw her besides a few days of Hanukkah every year.

It was a lonely life after Wanda’s divorce, and she had nothing better to do than prey on you for the next few days before she finally approached you. She watched you change in your bedroom and snapped photos of your naked body while she bounced on one of her dildos.

With a homemade strawberry rhubarb pie in her hands, Wanda introduced herself to you after timing it perfectly so your parents weren’t home.

‘I’m Wanda, your neighbour across the street,’ she welcomed you with a wide smile, flashing her white teeth at you and crinkling her eyes so she tore down your defensive walls.

Soon, she was driving you to your classes, coming into your house while your parents were away, having you over for dinner for just the two of you. Within three weeks, Wanda pulled you onto her lap in her car when she drove you to get supplies for your school project. She fucked you in her seat until you squirted all over her slacks.

You were so gullible and dumb, letting her pinch your little nipples through your shirt and kissing your neck while you were home alone with her. She fucked you in your bedroom, her little girl, so young and pretty. 

How stupid were you, truly, to have an older woman step into your house and do whatever she wanted to you? Granted, Wanda had allowed you to warm up to her overtime, but it had only worked because of how mindless and impressionable you were.

One night when you were having dinner at Wanda’s house as you often did, she poured a special powder in your warm milk, and within several minutes, you were out cold. She acted quick, because she had everything planned beforehand, and soon had you on the road with her as she drove away from your home and hers, moving away from everything either of you had ever known to live together.

‘Mommy, where are we going?’ you muttered out sleepily as you began to wake up a few hours into the drive.

‘We’re going on a trip together, baby. Don’t you want to get away with mommy?’ Wanda coerced, rubbing your thigh with her hand soothingly.

Sometimes, you were fussy. Wanda understood because of how hard it was for a little girl like you to take in a new home. She knew how to soothe you. Often, you were laying on mommy’s lap while you nursed her breasts, her fingers drawing circles against your puffy cunt. 

Wanda’s limit was reached when you cried to go home and wanted to see your friends and parents again. She didn't like when you brought your old home up. She would drag you by your hair to your playroom and sit on a chair designated just for her. Wanda would slap your face until you cried, then threw you over her lap, her hand still grasping at your hair painfully.

‘Mommy isn’t enough for you, huh?’ she snarled as she spanked your ass. ‘I’m so good to my little girl, feeding her and giving her a home, a bed to sleep in. Mommy gives you cuddles and attention, and that still isn’t enough. You ungrateful fucking bitch. I should throw you out onto the street for how you’re treating me.’

You always begged for her forgiveness, as mommy liked for you to do. You got onto your knees and cried into her lap, apologising profusely while she pet your hair. 

Overtime, you begin to forget your old home- your parents and your friends, schooling, and any life separate from Wanda. You tug at her hand when simply going to the kitchen to get a glass of water or juice, not being able to stand a moment apart from her if you could help it.

Your dependence on her made it easy for Wanda to take over your mind, controlling your every opinion and thought of the world. When you watched television together, sometimes photos of your face, unrecognisable to you, popped up on the screen. 

Mommy told you that bad people were looking for you, trying to take you away from her. At the very thought of being taken away, you cried into her chest and grasped at her shirt and begged for her to keep you safe. 

When Wanda had to go out without you to do important things, as she always told you, you were locked in your playroom with your stuffies and in the corner of the room, your cage. She didn’t like for you to be roaming the house without her supervision, and wanted to make sure where you were, always.

Sometimes Wanda brought you out with her on trips to the park and to go shopping, but it was in different faraway places each time. You felt bad for mommy, who always went to lengths to keep you safe from the bad people trying to take you away from her, so you made a point to always be a good, obedient girl. She didn’t need any more trouble than she already had.

You were hers forever, and no one would ever take you from her. She punished you until you begged for her forgiveness when you mentioned anyone but her. Wanda spoke for you so you wouldn’t be able to talk with anyone else while you were out with her. She groped your pretty boobs in public and pressed lingering kisses to your lips, ensuring that anyone who laid eyes on you knew that you were hers.

You would always be hers, and you’d never want it any other way.

[possibly-a-table-or-just-gay]

I Had All And Then Most Of You, Some And Now None Of You.

The ringing seemed to echo in his ears, becoming the loudest noise in the room by far. Darius found himself nervously tapping patterns onto the sofa, subconsciously biting the tip of his tongue.

Please pick up.

Please.

-Click-

"Darius? Hello?"

Chapter: 1 2

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

Hello!! This chapter is long overdue, I have terrible work ethic, but I think it is longer than the first one, if that makes up for it. It's not my best work, but enjoy!!

Again thank you so much to @theninjabozo and @genderlessjacky for helping me with this one, you're the best and I love you /p

Also @thenugking you are a godsend thanks a million

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

Darius couldn't sleep. This wasn't an unusual occurrence, between Hunter's night terrors, Eberwolf's zoomies at 3 a.m and his own... uncomfortable wake-up calls, a late night reunion wasn't an uncommon scene in the Deamonne household.

However tonight he just didn't feel like going back to his empty room.

He leaned back on the couch cushions, scrolling through his camera roll, looking for a good photo of Hunter to send to Principal Bump tomorrow morning for the official flyer derby team (if he was going to be awake at a titan-awful hour he might as well get some of the things he was putting off out of the way.)

He noticed he'd been mindlessly scrolling for too long when instead of the grinning faces of his friends and family looking back at him, it was a much younger Darius and Eberwolf.

He flicked past several old photos of stiff coven events and Eberwolf's smug selfies.

His fortys

His thirties. 

His twentys.

Alador's wedding.

Ah.

There was one picture of that night, a large group photo with the newlyweds pride of place in the centre. He saw the tense smiles of people he didn't recognise. He saw Odalia's nails digging into Alador's shoulder like she was expecting him to make a run for it. He saw his own grimace, his well disguised concern.

He felt tears prick up behind his eyes. Titan. Why couldn't he just say what he thought when Odalia weaseled her way into Alador's life, instead of letting his unease grow and grow until he was screeching it at the man he loved.

He needed to talk to Alador. To apologise, to say the words fumbling at the bottom of his stomach, to just hear his voice.

His thumbs trembled as he searched for Alador's contact, still punctuated with the little purple hearts from his teenage years.

Would he even have Darius's number saved anymore? Their arguments were legendary, Darius knew himself well enough to know he didn't always have the best control of his temper.

Well. Here goes nothing.

The ringing seemed to echo in his ears, becoming the loudest noise in the room by far. Darius found himself nervously tapping patterns onto the sofa, subconsciously biting the tip of his tongue.

Please pick up.

Please.

-Click-

"Darius? Hello?"

/

Darius's breath caught in his throat. He hadn't exactly expected to get this far.

"Hey, um h-hi."

"... are you okay?"

"Y-yeah, are you- are you alone?"

"Uh, the kids are in bed?"

"Can I come over?"

"Sure."

"I'll be there in ten."

-Click-

\

Darius stood on the doorstep to the Blight family manor, debating whether he should ring the doorbell or not.

He hadn't planned to turn up at Alador's feet at some ungodly hour when he woke up that morning but well, here he was.

Before he could ditch this whole situation while he had the chance, the heavy wooden doors swung open to reveal Alador still in his work coat, despite it being well past a reasonable time for that.

"Hi."

Seeing his face hurt so much more than Darius expected. All that was flashing through his mind when he saw the dark bags under Alador's eyes was the foul words he spat, the insults he let escape his mouth and leave a bitter taste on his tongue.

All reasonable thought left him at that moment. He couldn't feel his feet move beneath him as he stepped forward, enveloping Alador in a hug.

/

Alador jolted, feeling Darius's weight on his body, his well built arms wrapped around his shoulders. He noted the witch's shuddering chest, soft muffled sobs. It took him by surprise for a second. Darius seemed to always hold up an air of cold elegance. He was never vulnerable.

He reached his hands up to hold Darius's back, locking the two of them together. He heard Darius's breath choke up, staying like that for just a moment longer before the former coven head pulled away, tearing them back to reality.

He thought he saw Darius's face flush for a second as his green eyes refused to meet Alador's.

"... Are you alright?"

"Y-yeah I just- I- I'm sorry."

The engineer's brow furrowed in confusion.

"For what?"

"For everything. For being an absolute asshole to you for twenty years."

A smile tugged at Alador's lips, and Darius breathed a soft sigh of relief, although he was quick to refocus his attention.

"Are you still in your work clothes?"

Alador looked down as if he was also only registering this now.

"Oh, yeah. I was working on a project and lost track of time and-"

Darius rolled his eyes and scoffed fondly. He moved forward to unfasten the buttons holding the sagging overcoat closed before catching himself and realising this was maybe too close a gesture for someone he'd only had his first real conversation with in over two decades just a few days ago.

He glanced up at Alador's face and murmured a soft "Can I?"

Alador flushed a beet red, stammering to find any words to say before just nodding.

Darius slowly unbuttoned the remaining tarnished clasps, untied the faded grey belt that cinched it slightly at the waist and slid the jacket off Alador's shoulders. He did his best to hide the smug grin spreading across his lips at Alador's reddening face as he melted the coat into abomination matter in his hands, reappearing hung up in the coat rack behind him.

"So erm, do you want coffee?

Darius shrugged. If he was being honest, he hadn't planned what he was going to do once he'd actually spoken to Alador.

"Sure."

He followed the engineer down the winding halls to the kitchen, seating himself at the counter, one leg crossed over the other.

"How do you take your coffee?"

"Black is fine."

"Ever the purist, as usual."

Darius let his shoulders relax, leaning into the playful banter.

"Well at least I have taste. That coffee maker is absolutely hideous."

"I apologise it's not up to your incredibly high standards, Sir Deamonne."

Alador grinned, sliding the coffee across the counter to his guest.

Darius sipped the drink, eyeing the engineer up and down, noting the slumped posture and dark shadows under his eyes.

"You're not sleeping."

"Wha- Yes I am?!" 

He raised an eyebrow sceptically, not buying it in the slightest.

"Hm. No."

Not giving Alador an opportunity to object, he continued.

"You look like you haven't slept in at least a few days, most likely a week, which means the last time you actually rested would be..."

Darius let his sentence trail off when he saw the other witch turn pink, but his statement was made. His expression softened, and when he next spoke his tone was soft and gentle.

"You need to rest. You're working yourself into the ground and it's going to come back to bite you sooner rather than later if you carry on like this."

Alador kept his eyes pinned to the floor, shifting on his feet. The motion sent Darius back several days, to the conversation whispered under the silence of those quiet hours before morning. I didn't want to be alone again.

Darius tiptoed cautiously into his next words, trying to force the uncertainty out of his voice and keep it low and hushed.

"...Lead the way?"

He saw a soft smile cross Alador's face and let go of a breath he didn't realise he was holding. Turns out he didn't want to be alone tonight either.

/

Alador stopped at the doorway to the room, freezing at the threshold. Darius joined him at his side, peering into the master bedroom.

It was modest enough, starched white sheets layed out on the seemingly untouched bed. Cardboard boxes labelled "Odalia" in messy black marker were stacked against the walls next to a half disassembled vanity. Try as Alador might have, the room still clearly belonged to his ex wife. Darius could taste her cheap perfume on his tongue, a sickly floral scent marking her territory.

The only part of the room that didn't fit the sanitised atmosphere was a worn blanket and pillow that lay on the.... on the floor.

Darius's stomach sank as he slowly came to the realisation of what that meant. When he spoke his voice died in his throat, coming out choked and hoarse.

"Alador... you slept in a bed, didn't you?"

The engineer stammered, tripping over his words.

"She... she didn't make you sleep on the floor."

Aladors scrambled excuses and explanations were drowned out by the dull pounding in Darius's ears as he felt his blood boil. The whites of his eyes blackened, his irises glowing as he balled his fists. She was going to pay, She was going to regret ever coming near Alador, if she lays a wretched finger on him-

"Dare?"

And just like that he was yanked back to reality, becoming acutely aware of every movement around him. He felt Alador's hand brush against his knuckles. He let his past lover grasp his hand, interlocking their fingers. He closed his eyes and exhaled heavily, quelling his fury. He gently squeezed Alador's hand. The last thing Alador needed was the wrathful, violent Darius that always seemed just under the surface.

When he opened his eyes again, they had returned to their normal appearance. He noticed Alador trembling, his feet practically nailed to the floor. His eyes shone with a terror like a deer caught in headlights, reflecting the pale moonlight.

He was paralysed there, frozen. He wasn't going to snap out of it, not on his own. He needed to get out of there, he needed someone to take him away from here-

"OH MY TITAN DARIUS WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?!?-"

He didn't even remember to keep his voice down when he felt his feet being swept from under him, lifted up by strong arms. His hands grappled for something to hold on to, clinging to Darius's shirt with an iron grip.

Darius couldn't stifle his laughter at Alador's reaction, shrieking like a wild teenager.

"Come on, you. You are going to sleep somewhere, whether you want to or not."

He made his way down the stairs, engineer in arms, trying to slow down to hammering of his chest, trying to ignore how Alador holding onto him for dear life made his face flush.

Alador did his best to not think about how easy it was for Darius to just carry him away. Titan, he hadn't been held like this since they were kids, when Darius used to whisk him away like a rescued damsel.

Descending the last few steps, Darius held Alador a little closer to not jolt the engineer around too much as he retraced his steps back to the living room, setting him down on the lavender couch as gently as possible. Alador looked down, trying to hide his reddened face.

"So, erm. Do you want to stay a bit or, or do you want to watch something or-"

Darius smiled softly, sliding next to Alador.

"So what incredibly important project has you working through the night without a minute of rest?"

Alador's eyes lit up.

"Okay, so even though the part of the coven sigils that activated with the draining spell is non-functional now, they still limit the witch's ability to do magic. But I was thinking, if we rearrange the components of the branding gloves, we can probably remove the sigils and reverse the limitations on magic usage!!"

Darius tried his best to listen, but tiredness was taking over and Alador's words were turning into white noise in his head. His mind wandered to how cute Alador got when he was excited, how his hands seemed to be doing just as much talking as his mouth.

"-We'd need someone with experience at using abomination magic in that extension-of-self way though. You'd be really good at that actually."

Alador paused, glancing back at Darius who just gestured for him to continue. The gaps between Alador's yawns were getting shorter and shorter and Darius figured if he let him ramble for a little longer he would finally tire himself out.

/

Alador's breathing slowed as his sentences trailed into silence, exhaustion finally winning out in the end.

A small smile danced across Darius's lips, as he stood slowly, his joints sore from not shifting in a while. He scooped Alador into his arms and let him curl sleepily into  his chest.

Padding up the stairs as quietly as possible, he made it to the landing. Pausing for a second at the doorway of the master bedroom, he pushed it open with his hips as to not wake up the witch he was holding too harshly. He placed Alador's sleeping body down on the pressed white sheets, shifting pillows to support his head.

He knew he should leave now, he should leave Alador to rest undisturbed, but he couldn't move, like there was a thread tethering him to the witch by the pit of his stomach. Pulling the duvet over Alador's shoulders, his hands lingered over the other witch for a second longer.

He tore his gaze away, using every ounce of determination to rip himself from the moment. Every step away felt exhausting, like swimming upstream. Every step away was just wrong.

That night was a one-off, he found himself murmuring, rubbing circles into his palm with his thumb in a way he hadn't done since he was a lost teenager. A one time situation, and that is all it will ever be.

The creak of the heavy front door closing behind him did nothing to ease his mind.

These things don't fix themselves overnight.

/

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

:DDDD

@linkdudehero @non-bee-knees it has been posted at last!!

Hopefully there were some funnies in there with the angst, and if you were in anyway dissatisfied with the ending, please be comforted by the fact there is a chapter 3 in the works (but don't get your hopes up about it being posted in a timely manner)

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Final Hour (Linked Universe fanfic)

(@artisticgamer, @ludoluck sorry I keep forgetting to tag you guys for my writing)

Inspired by @kikker-oma's amazing Fierce Deity art. Love your talent and your creativity, Oma! <3

Summary: When everything goes horribly wrong, Time desperately attempts everything in his power to fix it. Wind instead chooses to be the self sacrificing Hero, but the end result isn't what Time expected it to be.

(AO3 link)

The clocktower tolled.

He saw her. He saw Zelda standing in front of him, sad and beautiful and aged beyond her years, just like him. He saw her morose smile, the tears threatening to spill from her eyes, her steady resolve despite it all. He saw her play the ocarina as she grew ever smaller and farther away while his hand reached out desperately for her.

The clocktower tolled.

He saw her. He saw Malon smiling sweetly at him, bright and beautiful and innocent, like how he used to be. He saw the freckles on her cheeks pull as she giggled and called him by that nickname she’d made up a lifetime ago. He saw her eyes grow fierce with a desire for adventure as she worked with an unruly mare. He saw her twirl as they danced together.

The clocktower tolled.

He saw them. He saw Anju and Kafei’s love and desperation and acceptance in their eyes as they held each other, as she said they’d greet the morning together while his hand held hers in a white knuckled grip. He saw them tremble as he turned and ran outside.

The clocktower tolled.

He saw them. He saw the Heroes of Hyrule, how they were all young, experienced, hurt, filled with power and hope and light. He saw how they emanated a strength that couldn’t be quantified, an inherent resolve and determination to their core that shone through and resonated between each and every one of them, a shared bond and unbreakable spirit. He saw their uniqueness, their wonder, their gifts and quirks.

And he saw them fall, one by one.

The clocktower tolled.

They’d been wounded. They’d been weak. They’d just fought multiple hordes and had been desperately trying to get to the nearest village. They’d known it hadn’t been far, from the forest they could hear the bells of a clocktower in a nearby town.

There had been a split in the path. Time had chosen the route.

The clocktower tolled.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. It couldn’t happen.

The black blooded dragon roared again, held at bay by the few still standing. He heard a scream, and a body collapse on the ground. He couldn’t even tell who was still standing anymore; he’d been one of the last to fall. Nearly everyone had stilled, no longer writhing in agony or sheer force of will.

Except for Wind.

The sailor groaned as he desperately crawled forward, reaching above Time, whose hand was overhead as he’d been grabbing desperately at one of his items when he fell, as he’d been willing to throw his life, sanity, everything away in a frantic attempt to fix this.

The wooden mask barely was within his grasp, propped by a finger.

Despite the severity of the situation, despite the cold silence of his companions, despite the clocktower ringing in his ears, a reminder of time after time of facing death and life and everything in between as his entire journey flashed before his eyes, he wanted to save Wind from this. The mask was too dangerous for anyone else. What good would such a victory do if the child was lost to the darkness?

“Please, Wind… no.”

He had other methods he could call on.

He had other items he could use.

The Hero of Time was nothing if not relentless. He never gave up. Never. Not even now, not even when he was bleeding to death, when the world around him blurred and dulled, when his mind was screaming and running into the past rather than focusing on the present. Not even now. He’d spent a lifetime perfecting three days over and over and over until he could get everything right and save everyone. He refused to let this be any different.

“You said…” Wind pleaded desperately, his voice trembling, tears and blood and phlegm rolling down his face from what little of it Time could see. With a hiccup, he continued, “You said it’s for emergencies, right? It’s okay, I’ll save you!”

I’ll save you. A last, desperate, pleading promise. The others couldn’t be saved, but Time was still here.

Time’s hands fumbled around his belt, desperately searching for the item he needed.

The clocktower tolled. The dragon roared again, any obstacle between it and the last pair of heroes long gone.

The mask slipped from Time’s finger, a rough disappearance as if it had been pulled.

“Sailor,” he tried again, his voice barely above a whisper, his world spinning and fading fast. He had to move.

Wind screamed.

The noise jolted Time out of his stupor, adrenaline feebly trying to awaken what little life essence he had left in him. He had enough energy to look up and see a figure towering over him where Wind originally had been crawling.

The monster bore Wind’s curls, bleached white. It bore Time’s armor, with a decorative fairy pendant dangling in the breeze as it stood stock still. Wind’s face was older, chiseled, once-chubby cheeks pulled taught over cheekbones that shouldn’t be so developed. Its eyes glowed, contrasting the purple and blue markings that cut across its face.

The Fierce Deity.

Time let out a desperate breath, unable to speak anymore, and watched helplessly as the cursed mask made Wind’s possessed body march across the field towards the dragon that awaited him. He couldn’t see the fight, but he could hear it. He heard the grunts, deeper than they should be, the fierce battle cries, the screeches from the dragon as its opponent landed cut after cut. He breathed hastily, feeling his heart quicken, feeling his body begin to grow numb, and he again searched desperately on his belt for the one thing that could change everything.

Warriors was gone. Sky was gone. Four was gone. Legend was gone. Hyrule was gone. Wild was gone.

Twilight was gone.

Time was going to be damned if he would let Wind fall in the worst way possible.

The clocktower tolled.

The dragon screamed, and the earth shook.

And then everything grew silent.

Time gasped for air, trying to raise his head, wanting to call for the young sailor, for the brightest ray of sunshine in the group, for the one last surviving member.

He couldn’t move.

So this is how I meet death? He wondered. On the verge of tears, an utter failure to all who depended on me?

He remembered the people of Termina. He remembered how they all faced death in their own ways. He thought of Cremia and Romani, of Anju and Kafei.

Goddesses. He missed Malon so desperately right now.

Heavy footsteps approached him, and he blinked, the world coming back into focus long enough for his body to scream that he couldn’t take any more of this. A blurry image hovered over him, and he squinted, confused, until his mind registered who he was staring at, and his hands finally found the item they’d been searching for.

The Fierce Deity knelt down slowly, eyes fixed on him. When his knees sank into the ground, he reached slowly, sliding a hand behind Time and pulling him into a seated position. Time cried out in pain with the motion, and the cursed deity paused only a moment before reaching his other hand towards the Hero of Time’s fumbling hands, pulling the ocarina from their grasp. Time tried to protest, tried to fight against his possessed successor’s hold, but he was too weak to do anything. Then amethyst rose into his periphery, and he looked down to see the Ocarina of Time hovering in front of his lips.

“Play, Link,” the Fierce Deity said, Wind’s higher voice pitched into a deeper timber and holding power and energy the boy didn’t usually possess. “Save them, as you always do.”

Time stared at the deity, his fears and thoughts stolen away. The pair was frozen for a moment, the world pausing around them, time itself holding its breath in anticipation. A gentleness fell over the cursed deity’s face, and Time felt the thumb behind his back caress him once, ever so softly. Understanding slid between the two, a heavy, bone deep realization that dug into Time’s mind more than he could fathom in the moment, a certainty and safety and assurance and comfort that he'd somehow always felt but always ignored. He let out a shaky exhale and, with trembling hands, took the ocarina from the Fierce Deity.

And he played.

The world turned white.

Time felt warmth engulf him, like an embrace from tender arms. Magic sparkled inside his mind and heart, a familiar friend, singing and resonating with his song like fairies humming together, a melody entwined in mystery and grace. His horizon shifted, and he was on his feet, set there gently as if floating through the air. The warmth spread from his core to his extremities, the numbness in his fingers dissipating, the stabbing pain of his own armor piercing his gut dulling into nothingness. The blood on him washed away with invisible waters, and an airless breeze blew the dirt off his body. He continued to play, the melody growing steadier as his strength returned, his determination steeling him, tightening his weakened muscles and bringing an assurance that he hadn’t felt since Termina.

Save them, as you always do.

Oh, the countless times he’d played this hymn, this spell, this prayer. Oh, the countless times he’d clung to it desperately as he tried again, the numerous times he’d played it in tears at his failure, the many times he’d nearly belted it in fortitude as he prepared with renewed hope and a plan in place.

Save them, Link.

“Really, old man? You’re playing your ocarina right now? We have wounded, we need to get moving.”

Time’s eyes snapped open at the sound of Legend’s voice.

They were all there, tired and hurt but alive. Sky was leaning against Hyrule, eyes half closed but body stiff with stubbornness, while Hyrule held him with a fierce protectiveness. Legend was watching him impatiently, scraped and bruised but relatively unharmed and clearly anxious to get help for the others. Four and Warriors were bringing up the rear, watching everyone’s backs and growing ever more confused by the turn of events. Wind hovered with some distress between Sky and Wild, who was the other most injured member of the group, though the champion was well looked after in Twilight’s hold as the rancher carried him on his back.

Twilight.

Time stared at him too long, meriting a worried expression from the rancher. “You alright?”

Blinking the oncoming tears away, the eldest Link took a deep breath and nodded. “Let’s keep going.”

“That’s what I said,” Legend grumbled, turning back towards the road ahead.

“Yeah, but which way?” Twilight asked, staring at the fork in the road.

The clocktower tolled.

Time pointed left.

“But I can hear the bells to the east of here,” Hyrule noted as he steadied Sky a little. “Shouldn’t we take the path on the right?”

“We’re taking this one,” Time said firmly, brooking no argument. The group followed him silently as he tried to reorient and move ahead like nothing had happened.

His hand slipped into his adventure pouch subconsciously as they walked, and the group started to talk amongst themselves, their voices the most beautiful things he’d ever heard. His heart rate began to normalize, and he closed his eyes, basking in the safety of seeing and hearing everyone alive again.

His fingers brushed against wood in his pouch, and they tingled with warm energy that climbed all the way up his arm, through his shoulder, and into his core. He took another steadying breath, clutching the mask tenderly as an entirely different set of emotions nearly knocked him to the ground, confusion and relief and hope and fear and curiosity above all else.

Another time. Today he tread ahead cautiously and protected his family.

Today he saved them, as he always would.

[midwesternwitchery]

Die Sonne Part 2 Apex!Alpha!König x Omega!Fem!OC

A/N- No real warnings yet. Some slight prejudice to Apex Alphas. Bondage "For safety". a/b/o dynamics. I think that's it. I have 2 more chapters rough drafted will be editing over the next few days. I'm hoping to make this a 10-15ish part series but who knows! Thank you for taking the time to read my work. reblogs and likes appreciated!

~

König received the call 3 days into his leave, that morning he’d been trying to figure out what to do with himself. He was considering flying back to Germany to visit with is Mother, however it seemed destiny had different plans for him.

His phone rang, shrill and loud, vibrating where it sat on the kitchen counter. He stared for a moment at his phone frozen when he saw the compatibility service number flash across the screen. He realized it wasn’t the normal number he received the rejection calls from. He snatched the phone up and answered with a quick “Ja?” 

“Yes, hello is this a Mr.König?” The voice was female, likely a beta, as most of the service consisted of them. Something about keeping neutrality during the matching process. 

“Ja. This is me.” König responded, his English was thick, slightly accented, though he’d worked hard to learn English, he would never really loose the Austrian accent. 

“Sir my name is Tara and I’m calling you from MatchMakes about the application you submitted.” She paused before continuing. “Would you be able to come in to the office for a meeting today?” 

König felt his heart stop beating for a moment. Time seemed to slow down as he processed what the beta- Tara- was asking. Come to the office? He’d been denied several times due to his Apex Alpha state, but he’d never been asked to come in, they had always called. Did this mean they had a potential mate, for him? The possibility that he could have his very own omega was almost impossible with his second gender. Most omega’s weren’t willing to even be around Apex Alphas, given their aggressive reputation, let alone consider mating with one, a lesson König had learned too early in life. He didn’t even know if there was an omega or if this was a ruse to get him in the office for yet another rejection.

He shook his head sharply before barking out a simple, “When?” The beta responded, “Today- actually, now if you’re able?” König couldn’t believe it, he had to ask. “This meeting… what is this about exactly?” 

Tara paused considering her words. “An omega selected you. She would like to move to the next step and meet.” Tara took a breath before continuing. “I have advised her of your status as an Apex Alpha. She would still like to meet with you, that is if you are still interested in a mate?” 

“JA! I- I mean yes yes I am interested! I’m leaving now. Thank you.” König hung up the phone as he was striding out the door, stopping only to grab his keys. 

The drive didn’t take him long, not with the speeds he was hitting. All he could think of was that he had a chance, finally someone wanted to give him a chance. He had worked his way up the ranks of the Austrian Special Forces, fought countless battles, killed hundreds in the name of his country, but nothing scared him like this. His anxiety only got worse the closer he got to the MatchMakes HQ, which was not helping his alpha side any. 

He parked his truck and quickly made his way into the building. The lobby was wide and empty save a few chairs scattered along the far wall. The reception desk sat centered in the main area, elevators to the left. His military issue boots rang out as he stalked across the black tile floor to the desk. 

The receptionist looked at him with wide eyes as he approached. He could only imagine how she must view him as he stood there towering over her in his sniper veil, he didn’t use scent blockers to cover his Apex status as it usually worked to his advantage in the field, so he knew she realized what he was. She pointed to the elevators, her eyes averted, not wanting to provoke his alpha, and murmured, “It’s the 19th floor sir.” He nodded his thanks to her as he made his way to the elevators. 

Once he stepped out of the elevator he was met by a beta female.

“Mr. König? I’m Tara, we spoke earlier.” Tara smiled at him, though it seemed strained. 

He could see the tightness in her lips, her body language seeming neutral, though he knew better. This beta wasn’t thrilled with him being selected. She probably thought he would tear the little omega apart piece by piece, or she thought he was undeserving, as so many others did. 

The stigma of being an Apex Alpha followed him everywhere, even though he’d worked hard over the years since he presented to gain control over his alpha side. Being in the military helped him, gave him an outlet for all his aggression and most importantly training to master his will. He knew the type of alpha Tara was weary of. Had plenty of experience dealing with the darker sides of the military including other Apex Alphas. 

König nodded to her. Looking around he spied a male beta through the glass window of the conference room. There was a long hallway with several doors off of it. He sniffed the air catching a whisper of something…..sweet. Like a memory from childhood, just out of his reach. 

Tara cleared her throat, gaining his attention. “You are aware of the rules?” her voice was firm, leaving no room for a misunderstanding. Holding her fingers up in tandem as she ticked off each rule, setting König’s teeth on edge. 

“You will be blindfolded and bound in place. You are not to touch unless the omega initiates. You may ask her questions but above all else you are not to use your compulsion on her. She runs this show, any other time your alpha side may be in charge but during this meeting her word is law.” 

Taking a breath she continues, “If any of these rules are broken you will be held and turned over to the authorities. Do I make myself clear?” Her eyes were sharp taking in his every movement.

König ducked his head and muttered a quiet, “Yes ma’am. I understand.” 

She looked him over for a moment before turning and signaling the male beta. “Follow me please. I’ll show you to the conference room where you will meet the omega. Elias will bring her in once you are secured.” Tara turned walking down the hall to another door. She unlocked and opened the door she turned to face him. 

Before she could speak he asked her, “What is her name?” Tara stopped short, her gaze was soft for a moment, “Oh. Mina. Her name is Mina.” 

Tara swept her arm out and gestured for him to enter the large room. Looking around it seemed better cared for than the lobby had. There were plush couches with pillows and throws to the left side of the room set up like a makeshift nest. To the right was a long conference table outfitted with computers and chairs surrounding it. However the center of the room held König's attention the longest.

Before him was a platform of sorts with a chair attached to the floor. Bindings were attached to the legs and arms of the iron chair. A small table sat beside it on the raised platform, resting on top were several small bowls of fruits and cheese and a blindfold. König walked to the chair and sat, looking at Tara expectantly.

She blinked at him as if she was surprised at how docile he was. He guessed she thought he would be difficult or even angry at the prospect of being restrained in such a way, but König understood it. The reasoning was solid in his mind. Apex Alphas more often than not have little control over their secondary gender. It only makes sense to do all of this to put the omega-Mina- at ease. He didn’t want to scare her, so if this is what he would need to do then he was determined to do it. 

Once restrained, Tara stepped back reaching out for the blindfold she secured it over his eyes. With a quiet “Please wait here she will be along soon.” she was gone. Leaving König to stew in his anxiety. He didn’t particularly like being trussed up in such a way, but he was willing to do whatever it takes to put his omega at ease. 

Minutes or maybe it was hours that passed as he waited for his omega. Wait no she isn’t his yet, he cannot allow himself to think that way before he’s even met her. Its her decision ultimately, he only hopes she isn’t disappointed or afraid of him. If she was to reject him, he hoped she would be quick about it. Hopefully his size isn’t too intimidating since he was sitting, he was hyper aware of how others received him due to his size. 

He was still trying to calm his racing mind when he heard the door open slowly. His body stilled when it hit him, her scent. Vanilla, cinnamon and something else he couldn’t quite name. He’d only gotten a small taste of her intoxicating scent in the hallway, this was so much more than that. She smelled of the custard his mother makes for the holidays. It was heavenly, addicting, like he was drowning in it, sitting there in a daze as he waited to see what she would do. His inner alpha was clawing at the walls trying to get out, to get to her. But for all his inward turmoil, his body betrayed nothing. 

However she just stood there taking him in the way he was her. He realized he should probably speak to her, say hello, something anything, but he didn’t want to startle her. He wanted her to come to him he realized. His inner Apex Alpha snarled at him from inside his head- MINE. My Omega. Shes mine. 

König smiled behind his mask as he thought the same- Mine

[thinkingaboutbetterdays]

the long game. ( mac taylor x reader )

gif belongs to me

The name left his lips as if he had said it a million times. He had, but not with the sentiment preceding it. The first time it happened, Peyton had brushed it off, joking that she was not his 'work wife'. Mac had spent the rest of the night and several days thereafter restless, mulling over the meaning behind his slip-up.

The second time it happened, Peyton was walking away after Mac let go of her hand when you and Stella were entering the morgue, and he could see the hurt in her eyes as she revealed her findings. The worst part? You were unaware of the turmoil within the couple and flashed Peyton a smile as you praised her for her work.

Stella, however, wasn't so oblivious and glanced at Mac over her shoulder as she left with you.

"Peyton..."

"I have a lot of work to do here." She said in dismissal.

"I'm sorry." Mac walked out of the morgue and saw you walking with Stella, typing on your cell phone. Seeing how preoccupied you were, Stella moved you out of the way before you could walk into a door that was opening.

"You really need to take a technical class or something." Stella shook her head with a smile.

"Why would you put someone through such horrendous torture?"

"It won't be that bad."

"Not me. The teacher." You nudged her gently, both laughing as you stepped into the elevator.

The third and last time it happened, the case was over, and he went down to the morgue to speak to Peyton. When she explained how hurt she felt, he reached for her and closed his eyes when your name left his lips.

"I'm sorry." Mac walked out of the morgue and headed back to the lab. Stella was leaving her office for the night when they crossed paths.

"Hey, any plans for tonight? That new diner opened a few blocks from here. You could take Peyton for dinner. Or breakfast." She corrected after checking her watch.

"Actually...we broke up."

Her eyes widened, "What? When? Why?"

Mac kept his voice low as he explained the multiple slip-ups where he called her by your name, and Stella listened, nodding with a frown.

"How long have you felt this way about her?"

Mac lightly shrugged his shoulders, a sigh leaving his lips.

"You should tell her."

"What if she doesn't feel the same way? I am the boss. And I don't want to make it awkward and disrupt the team." Mac replied.

"You'll never know if you don't ask." She reasoned, placing a hand on his arm before heading to the elevator.

Mac sighed as she left, walking away to his office. He packed his briefcase, and twenty minutes later, he was leaving the lab when he saw you looking around your office, tidying up your desk in the hopes of finding something.

Mac observed for a moment before deciding he had nothing to lose. He knocked on your door, lingering in the doorway as you met his gaze. A smile formed on your lips that almost made him forget why he was here.

"Hey, Mac! Heading out?"

He cleared his throat, nodding. "Uh, yeah. Did you lose something?"

"My glasses." You paused when his lips twitched in amusement. "What?"

Mac pointed to his head, and you reached up, finding your glasses on top of your head. You closed your eyes, blushing in embarrassment as you placed your glasses in your handbag.

"Do you want to grab breakfast?" He asked. "There's a new diner open on fifth."

You nodded, "I'd love to." A smile formed on your lips as you picked up your briefcase and placed your handbag over your shoulder, following him to the elevator.

In the early hours of the morning, you went to the diner on fifth, and Mac brought up the case over breakfast in an attempt to return to common ground, both relieved it was over. He didn't want to ask too many questions about your personal life. But you broke down the wall between boss and subordinate with ease, flashing him a smile and asking, "So what does the great Mac Taylor do when he isn't solving cases?"

Mac quickly grew comfortable, relaxing so much he even undid the buttons of his blazer - as most relaxed you'd ever seen him. A sight you decided you would like to see more often as he held the door open for you on the way home, a smile on his lips.

It became a regular occurrence after cases. You and Mac would celebrate with breakfast or dinner depending on when you left the lab after finishing paperwork, sometimes ordering takeout while working side by side as you worked to complete the reports. You always respected his rank out in the field, but in the lab when you were alone, you both let down your guard.

Weeks had gone by but Mac was still uncertain about entering a relationship with you, his only concern being the team if things didn't work out. Yet he couldn't imagine why, because you were a brilliantly beautiful CSI and he had fallen in love with you without even realizing it. So he decided to play the long game, taking the time to let the lines blur on their own, learning more about you, and spending more time with you outside of working hours in the hopes that it would lead to a long successful relationship.

After a shootout downtown, you took three shots to the vest and Mac forgot all of his hesitations as he walked by where you were being checked over by a paramedic, checking you over for injuries as he headed towards a detective.

"What in God's name were you thinking?"

You looked at him in surprise, as did many others who turned towards the scene as Mac confronted the detective for putting two of his CSIs in harm's way.

You knew Mac was protective of his team, but the look in his eyes told you it was more than that. After sending you and Danny to the lab, he stayed with the others to sweep the scene for evidence.

Mac didn't return until several hours later and you looked at the door when he knocked. "Are you okay?"

You nodded, "The vest took all of it. Some bruising, but hey, I did get shot." You shrugged off, attempting to lighten the mood with a smile.

Mac sighed as he entered your office, closing the door, and you saw how weary he looked.

"Are you okay?"

"You got shot, and you're worried about me?"

"I always worry about you." You placed your pen down and took off your glasses as you turned your chair to give him your full attention.

His gaze fell to the floor as he swallowed his nerves and met your gaze when he summoned the strength to admit, "I always worry about you."

You walked towards him and placed your hands on his biceps, "I'm fine. I can't deny I'm a little more motivated than usual." You squeezed his arms gently, "But I'm fine. Promise."

Mac nodded slowly, covering your left hand with his right hand. "When I got the call, all I could think was - I don't think I could survive it. Losing you."

Your eyes became teary from his confession and you kissed his cheek, wrapping your arms around him.

"I'm not going anywhere." You whispered.

Mac held you closer as you rested your head on his shoulder. When you pulled away moments later he noticed your gaze flicker to his lips briefly before quickly meeting his gaze. It was all Mac needed as he placed a hand on your cheek and kissed you tenderly.

Your eyelashes fluttered as you closed your eyes, leaning into him as you cupped his neck. You pulled away and his hands held your waist as you both took a moment to catch your breath.

"I have a confession to make." You whispered.

Mac held his breath until you continued.

"I've wanted to do that for a while."

He exhaled, a smile forming on his lips as he said, "Yeah? Me too."

You left the lab earlier that night, deciding to take the paperwork to Mac's apartment, picking up takeout on the way. And as he looked at your head resting on his shoulder as you both read the files on your laps, your suit pants and blouse were forgotten on the bedroom floor, wearing one of his shirts while he wore striped pajama pants and plain white t-shirt, Mac did not know how he survived playing the long game, but being here, living this moment with you, it was all worth it.

[ltash]

Forever

Ep-9 "ReUnion" SimonGhostRileyxFemaleReader

Nothing is left in me,

You are my heart, my life are you,

I will live without taking breaths,

But I can't do this without you.

You are the bet that I won yet I lost,

Ghost observed Andrea quietly, his eyes fixed on her, searching for any sign of recognition in hers. After several moments passed, a flicker of realization crossed his mind—a realization that hit him like a ton of bricks. He had been so consumed by the shock of her presence that he hadn't considered the possibility that she didn’t recognize him.

His heart thumped in his chest, the room suddenly feeling much smaller than before.

Ghost's mind whirled with a mixture of conflicting emotions. He knew that the years had shaped him into a very different person, both physically and emotionally. His height, his build, his demeanor—all had changed over the years, shaped by his experiences and the demands of his career in Task Force 141.

He watched her, searching for any flicker of recognition in her eyes. He wanted her to see past the mask, past the persona he had become, and see the Simon she had once known.

He was 6'4", a behemoth of a man, and he wasn't the same Simon Andrea had left at 17. His t-shirt clung to his muscular chest, his dark brown eyes looking at Andrea, searching if she even recognized him a bit—their school life, their prom together, their laughter in the school hallway. The letters they wrote to each other flashed through his mind. But he knew, because of his skull mask, she wouldn't recognize him.

As he sat there, he couldn't help but remember their shared joy and the way Tommy used to tease him about her. From the first time he saw her at school to their prom night, to now having her seated in front of him in his very office, the memories came flooding back.

Ghost, as he was now known, watched Andrea closely. She had transformed from the fierce teenager who always saved him from the bullies into a stunning, formidable young woman. The circumstances had changed her, just as they had changed him. The mask he wore was a barrier, a shield that hid not just his face but the remnants of the boy he used to be.

He decided then and there not to tell her that he was her Simon. It was better this way. He had changed, and the mask was as much a part of his identity now as his own skin. Revealing the truth could complicate things, and in their line of work, clarity and focus were paramount.

"There's more to you than meets the eye," Ghost remarked, his voice carrying a hint of respect masked by caution. "What is it that drives you, Andrea? What brings you to our doorstep?"

Andrea considered his question carefully, weighing her words before responding. "I believe in making a difference," she answered finally, her voice unwavering. "In a world where threats are ever-evolving, I want to be where I can make the most impact."

Ghost nodded slowly, hiding his personal turmoil behind the impassive mask. "In that case," he replied, a subtle nod of approval accompanying his words, "welcome to Task Force 141. We're glad to have you here."

As Andrea left his office, Ghost remained behind, grappling with the collision of past and present. He knew that keeping his identity hidden was the right choice, but the weight of that decision pressed heavily on him. The boy who loved her was still inside him, buried beneath the layers of his current self.

As Ghost watched Andrea walk away, the door closing behind her, a surge of conflicting emotions welled within him. The connection they once had, the memories of their school days together, danced through his mind like a bittersweet waltz. The mask he wore was more than just a physical barrier; it was a shield against the memories of the boy he used to be.

He turned around, pacing around the room, his thoughts in turmoil. He couldn't help but wonder what would happen if she discovered the truth. Would she still see him the same way? The carefree boy she knew, the one who laughed with her in the school hallways and danced with her at prom, was buried under layers of trauma and duty.

Stopping in front of a small, dusty mirror, Ghost lifted the edge of his mask, revealing a sliver of his face. The reflection staring back at him was a stark reminder of how much he had changed. Scars etched into his skin told stories of battles fought and sacrifices made. The darkness in his eyes contrasted sharply with the boyish light they once held.

"Would she understand?" he murmured to himself, his voice barely a whisper in the empty room.

The memories of Tommy's teasing, their shared jokes, and the letters they wrote to each other came flooding back. Those were simpler times, times when the biggest worry was passing exams and planning the next school dance. Now, the stakes were immeasurably higher.

Ghost let the mask fall back into place, sealing away the remnants of Simon Riley once more. He had made his decision. Protecting Andrea meant keeping his identity hidden, ensuring that she could focus on the mission without the added burden of their shared past.

As he resumed his seat, Ghost's thoughts lingered on Andrea. Her transformation from a fierce teenager into a formidable operative was remarkable, yet he couldn't shake the feeling of loss that came with knowing they could never truly go back to what they once had.

He glanced at the closed door one last time, a silent vow forming in his mind. He would watch over her, protect her in any way he could. But for now, he would do it from behind the mask, as Ghost—the soldier shaped by war, not the boy shaped by love.

Captain Price called everyone into the meeting room. Gaz accompanied him, his demeanor serious as ever. Soap also entered, his jaw dropping when he saw Andrea. She stood out in her attire, a blend of combat readiness and an undeniable grace that turned heads.

"Such a bonnie lass!" Soap muttered to Ghost, unable to hide his admiration.

Ghost nudged his shoulder. "Stop it, Soap."

Andrea noticed Soap's reaction and smiled politely.

"Meet Andrea Shepherd, General Shepherd's daughter," Price announced, his voice carrying authority.

Soap and Ghost both looked at each other in surprise. Ghost's eyes widened slightly behind his mask. He had known Andrea since childhood, but he never knew she was Herschel Shepherd's daughter. The realization added a new layer of complexity to their already intricate relationship.

Andrea caught Ghost's gaze, sensing something familiar in the way he looked at her. But before she could dwell on it, Price continued, "Andrea will be joining us on our next mission. She's proven herself capable, and we can use her skills."

Soap extended a hand to Andrea, a broad grin on his face. "Welcome to the team, Andrea. We're glad to have you."

Andrea shook his hand, her grip firm. "Thank you. I'm looking forward to working with all of you."

Ghost stood silently, his thoughts racing. He had more questions than answers now, but he knew one thing for certain: protecting Andrea had just become even more crucial. He would have to navigate this delicate situation carefully, balancing his duty and the lingering memories of their shared past.

"Let's get down to business," Price said, directing everyone to take their seats. As the team settled in, Ghost couldn't shake the feeling that this mission would test them all in ways they hadn't anticipated. But with Andrea by their side, they were undoubtedly stronger.

As Price continued the debriefing, Ghost sat silently, occasionally stealing glances at Andrea, the revelation of her identity still fresh in his mind. The knowledge that she was Herschel Shepherd's daughter added a new layer of complication to their already complex relationship.

Ghost's mind swirled with questions and thoughts, his gaze occasionally shifting from Price to Andrea. He found himself torn between his duty and the memories of their shared past. Each glance at Andrea brought a rush of memories—her laughter echoing in the school hallways, the way she always stood up to bullies for him, their prom night.

Price's voice droned on in the background, outlining the mission objectives and the role each team member would play. But Ghost's attention was divided, the past and present colliding in his mind. He knew he had to stay focused, but the emotions he had buried for so long were now bubbling to the surface.

Andrea, for her part, remained attentive to Price's briefing, her face composed and professional. Yet, there was a subtle tension in her posture, a sign that she too was aware of the unspoken complexities that had suddenly emerged.

"Any questions?" Price's voice cut through Ghost's reverie, bringing him back to the present.

Ghost shook his head, though his mind was still a storm of unresolved thoughts. He knew that keeping his emotions in check was crucial, especially now. The mission demanded their full attention, and any distraction could be dangerous.

As the debriefing concluded, Price dismissed the team, reminding them to prepare for the upcoming operation. Ghost stood up, his tall frame casting a long shadow across the room. He caught Andrea's eye one last time before turning to leave.

"Ghost, a moment?" Price's voice called him back.

He turned, nodding. "Yes, Captain?"

"Stay sharp out there," Price said, his gaze firm. "We need everyone at their best."

Ghost nodded again, his expression hidden behind his mask. "Always, Captain."

As he walked out of the room, he made a silent promise to himself. No matter the complications, no matter the emotions, he would protect Andrea with everything he had. Their past might be a tangled web, but their present mission was clear: to face the threats ahead with unwavering resolve.

Their mission was to infiltrate Al Mazrah in Iran and capture Hassan. They had a base there and needed to reach it under the cover of night.

Captain Price showed Andrea to her room, giving her some time to pack her necessities. When she came down with her suitcase, her attire was, as usual, designer and stylish. Ghost was already downstairs with his duffle bag slung over his shoulder.

As she descended the staircase with sheer elegance, her heels making a rhythmic sound against the marble steps, Ghost couldn't help but comment. "Not the perfect outfit choice for your first mission," he said, his voice carrying a hint of teasing.

Andrea stood in front of him, crossing her arms over her chest. Her small stature barely reached his chest, making the size difference between them even more pronounced. Ghost smirked under his balaclava, remembering the feisty side she had always had.

"Are you always like this, Andrea?" Ghost teased, his tone softening with familiarity. He knew her from their teenage years and understood that she had a fierce spirit.

Before Andrea could respond, Soap came running towards them with his duffle bag in hand. "Let's move!" he called out, urgency in his voice.

Andrea glanced at Soap and was suddenly reminded of Tommy. The resemblance was uncanny, and it brought a pang of nostalgia and longing.

They moved out, boarding the transport that would take them to Al Mazrah. The ride was filled with a tense silence, each member of the team mentally preparing for the mission ahead. Andrea's mind wandered back to Tommy. She knew she had to focus, but the memories of Simon's brother and his family and her past were hard to shake.

As they approached their destination, the tension in the vehicle grew palpable. Captain Price briefed them one last time, ensuring everyone knew their roles. Andrea listened intently, her determination steeling her nerves. She was ready to prove herself, not just to the team, but to herself as well.

Ghost, sitting across from her, could sense the shift in her demeanor. He knew this mission would be a defining moment for her, and he silently vowed to watch over her, just as he had done in their school days, even if she didn't realize it was him.

The night was dark and the air was heavy with anticipation as they disembarked, ready to face the challenges that awaited them in Al Mazrah.

As they reached Al Mazrah base in Iran via helicopter, the urgency of the mission demanded immediate preparation. Andrea, donning her SAS uniform for the first time, headed to the armory where Ghost was already waiting. She felt a mix of excitement and nervousness as she fiddled with her helmet and plated vest, the unfamiliar gear making her feel out of place.

Ghost watched her struggle with a hint of amusement, but also a genuine desire to help. He stepped forward, his presence commanding yet gentle. Two strong hands reached for her helmet, adjusting it securely before moving to her vest, tying it with practiced ease.

"Thank you, Lieutenant, but you didn’t have to do that," Andrea said, looking up at him.

"I've always been doing it, Andrea," he replied, but then paused, realizing the potential slip.

"What do you mean?" she asked, curiosity piqued.

"I mean, I always help new recruits," he said, chuckling under his mask to cover his moment of vulnerability.

Andrea studied him, noticing the way his navy blue windbreaker jacket and tactical pants suited him. He looked every bit the seasoned warrior, his presence exuding confidence and strength.

"You look really good in that uniform," she commented, a small smile playing on her lips.

Ghost's eyes crinkled slightly in response, the only visible sign of his smile. "Thanks. But it's not about looking good; it's about being ready for whatever comes our way."

Andrea nodded, the gravity of the mission settling over her. She felt a strange comfort in Ghost's presence, a sense of familiarity she couldn't quite place. She pushed the thought aside, focusing on the task at hand.

"Let's get to it, then," she said, her voice steady with determination.

Ghost nodded, leading the way as they prepared for the operation. Despite the intense circumstances, a silent understanding seemed to pass between them, a bond forged in the crucible of their shared past and the challenges that lay ahead.

As they moved out, the night air was thick with anticipation. Andrea felt the weight of her new role, but also a growing sense of belonging. She was ready to prove herself, not just to the team, but to the memories of the girl who had once saved Simon from bullies and now stood beside Ghost, ready to face whatever came their way.

Andrea sat in the helicopter, feeling the weight of her armor pressing down on her tiny frame. Razor 1 ascended into the sky, the hum of the rotors a constant reminder of the mission ahead. Across from her sat Ghost, his imposing presence hard to ignore. Tall, dark, and undeniably handsome, he commanded attention, and Andrea found herself unable to look away. His brown eyes, visible through the skull mask, seemed to pierce right through her.

"What are you looking at, Lieutenant?" she teased, a playful glint in her eye.

"Nothing. Just trying to recognize you. I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before," he teased back, his voice carrying a hint of familiarity.

"Ummhmm! Maybe you saw me in your dreams," she chuckled, a light laugh escaping her lips.

Soap, sitting nearby, looked on in awe at their exchange. The banter was unexpected, especially given Ghost's usually stoic demeanor. The marines around them sat in silence, trying to suppress their laughter at the light-hearted moment amidst the tension of their mission.

Ghost's eyes crinkled slightly as if smiling behind his mask. "Maybe," he said softly, the word hanging in the air between them.

The helicopter continued its ascent, the night sky enveloping them. Despite the looming danger of their mission, the brief moment of levity eased some of the tension. Andrea felt a strange comfort in Ghost's presence, a connection she couldn't quite explain but deeply felt.

As they flew towards their destination, the camaraderie among the team grew stronger, each one knowing they could rely on the other. Andrea leaned back, her thoughts racing yet oddly at peace, ready to face whatever lay ahead with Ghost and the rest of Task Force 141 by her side.

As Razor 1 reached Al Mazrah, Ghost stood up, the red light casting eerie shadows inside the helo. With his M14 in hand, he moved with purpose, his presence commanding attention.

"Bravo team offloads here. Alpha team stays onboard to land downrange. Both teams meet me in the middle. Remember, we want Hassan alive, but this is capture or kill," Ghost ordered, his voice firm and authoritative. His British accent thick.

He gestured for Andrea to get up. She followed after him, with Soap close behind. The helicopter's rotors created a deafening noise as they prepared to disembark.

Andrea, feeling the adrenaline surge through her veins, stepped out with Bravo team, her senses heightened. The night air was cool and filled with the tension of impending action. Ghost led the way, his figure a shadowy beacon of strength and determination.

The team moved swiftly, blending into the darkness, their movements synchronized and precise. Andrea stayed close to Ghost, her eyes scanning the surroundings, ready for any sign of trouble. The weight of her uniform felt more natural now, the earlier discomfort overshadowed by the gravity of their mission.

Soap kept a watchful eye on Andrea, ready to support her if needed. He admired her composure, knowing that despite her inexperience in uniform, she had the grit and resolve that matched any seasoned soldier.

As they advanced through the terrain, the sounds of distant conflict echoed in the night. The objective was clear: capture or kill Hassan. Ghost's voice cut through the silence, steady and reassuring, guiding them toward their target.

They reached the rendezvous point, where they had to meet Alpha. Ghost signaled for a brief halt, his eyes meeting Andrea's for a moment. In that silent exchange, she felt a surge of confidence, knowing she was part of a team that believed in her capabilities.

"Stay sharp," Ghost reminded them. "Hassan is close. Let's move."

With a final nod, they proceeded, the mission ahead promising danger and the chance to make a significant impact. Andrea felt the weight of her role, ready to prove herself alongside Ghost and the rest of Task Force 141.

[dragonrider9905]

The End is a New Beginning

Series: The Clone's Incomplete Guide for Navigating the Afterlife (We're Learning as We Go)

Summery: Tech died falling on Eriadu…what he did not expect was to wake up and meet two clones waiting for him: Fives and Mayday. Apparently they have unfinished business and it has to do with the Batch.

Warnings: Possible sadness at remembering character deaths but we're making an attempt at humor down the line....

Thank you to who decides to read this...I know this is a strange, sad, hopefully a little funny story/idea/concept. I just need to do this...I plan on a couple but life's made it hard to write recently. I plan on guest appearances like 99 or something. Hope you enjoy, I'd love to read what you thought in comments or reblogs. Thanks again.

Step One: You are dead, but very much alive….while being dead.

“Don’t you do it, Tech!”

Wrecker grasped the rail car as it jolted, throwing him off balance. 

Tech sighed. There was no other way. It could be him, or all of them. Regret tugged at his heart. He hoped they could forgive him, especially the littlest of them all. It would be difficult for her to understand, he was sure. But at least she’d get the chance to try. He had confidence in her. She was brave and strong, just like her brothers.

“When have we ever followed orders?”

Shaking, the blaster’s sights were lined up; with a precise shot, the connection was severed. 

“Plan 99”

For a moment, Tech thought he heard singing, a violin, music. He was rather disappointed his life didn’t flash before his eyes, it was always said it would. He would have liked to see his achievements, his brothers and sister one last time, smiling perhaps. Instead, he looked on toward Wrecker, his brother, watching him fall, reaching out as if he could pull him to safety, calling out his name. He saw, briefly, Omega's horrified face. He heard her scream. Her agonizing yells. 

At least now she’d be safe. 

He was glad he did it. For his family. This was it, this was the end. He made quite the end too. 99 would be proud. That alone was a reason to find peace in his soul in his final few moments. 

He was free falling. 

Through the air.

Down.

Down.

Down.

Till there was no more. 

The world went black with a sickening crash. 

— — — 

Tech woke up and shook his head. He felt amazingly fine after such a fall. He was surprised he could sit up. He stretched and brought his hands to his face to adjust his goggles, surprised again to find they weren’t there…and he could see rather clearly. Perfectly, in fact.

Strange. 

Hm, I must test this phenomenon. Could the fall have improved my vision? That is impossible?!

“Do you think he’s figured it out yet?” A voice said somewhere near him. 

“Give him time, patience.”

“You didn’t even serve with a Jedi; I did, they are not all that patient so no preaching to me, buster.”

“It is an admirable quality anyway.”

Tech knew those voices. They were the voices of regs! The Imperials must have found him. He raised his hands in surrender. 

“I surrender. Show yourselves and I’ll come peacefully.”

“I’ll take that as a no, he hasn’t noticed.”

“Be kind, Fives.”

“You mean like how I was with you?”

“No, definitely not.”

“He he.” 

Fives? What could that clone mean?

Something uncomfortable stirred in Tech at the name. A familiar kind of uncomfortable. He knew logically it couldn’t be Echo’s Fives, but he felt a numbing coldness in his fingers.

Tech looked left and right but saw no one. Where were the voices coming from? He looked down as he pushed himself up off the ground and dusted himself off, even though, strangely enough, there was nothing to dust off. This wasn’t natural. He should have something. Blood, dust….something. 

He looked up and jolted back, two regs smiling in his face. One draped his arm and leaned heavily on the other, whose arms were crossed. 

“Hello there!”

They were not dressed in Imperial armor. Perhaps they found out about Eriadu from the same contact Echo got his info from. He wondered why they were here. Where was their ship? Perhaps he could contact the Batch if they’d let him. No doubt they would if they were with Rex.

“Greetings. How may I help you? I was wondering if it was possible...”

“Um, Tech.” 

“How do you know my name?” Tech’s eyes widened in surprise. He was sure he hadn’t said it yet.

Tech went to adjust his goggles to regain his composure but found nothing there. 

He was met with silence as the two clones looked at each other. The one with the beard stretched out his hand in a placating manner as Hunter often did. 

“Take it easy, soldier, ok? I’ve got something to tell you….”

Tech looked back and forth between the two of them, then squinted closer at the one whose arm was draped over the bearded clone. He had a tattooed five on his forehead…..he looked familiar….

No.

He’d seen that face too many times before to NOT know it. He’d seen it in Echo’s holos. He’d heard the vivid description of the clone too many times in stories Rex and Echo would swap. He’d know that face anywhere.

Fives? THE Fives?

“I must have hit my head harder than I thought…” is all he managed to say out loud. “I’m seeing things…”

“Son, I’m sorry.” 

He followed the line of vision of the bearded clone and Tech saw his own body, lying still. 

He jumped back, stepping fully out of himself.

What?

His eyes went wide and he crouched next to his own head.

“Fascinating…”

“Well he’s taking it rather well.” 

“Shut up, Fives.”

“What are you going to do, hit me?”

“I might.”

“Ha.” 

Tech turned to them. 

“I am familiar with Fives, as Echo spoke of you often. I am sorry, I do not know you. I am Tech…formerly of Clone Force 99.”

Tech reached his hand out to shake the other’s. 

“I’m Mayday. Good to meet you, Tech.” 

Tech was surprised he could clasp hands with him. Who knew ghosts could touch each other. Then again he was feeling things….not normally, but he still felt something. He must remember to share this…with…someone. Sometime. He was sure he could get someone to appreciate this fact, if he could tell them.

Fives reached out his hand and grasped Tech next. 

“Good to officially meet you! Yeah, I’ve enjoyed hearing Echo tell those stories. I miss him a little less too, when I hear them. You were one of his favorites, you know Techy boy? I’m sorry to have you here with me, but it is also awesome. We get a chance to be brothers now too!” 

Fives blinked. “But goodness, Tech, we got to get you goggles or glasses or something. You look so strange without them. Dang, it’s weird not seeing you with your goggles. Seeing you with them for so long is messing with me. Don’t you agree, Mayday? Obviously the real ones won’t do but we’ll figure something out. They’re his signature look…”

“Ok, ok we get your point, Fives. Depends on Tech. If he wants a pair, we’ll figure something out.”

Tech stared, resisting the urge to yet again fix the accessory no longer there. He felt a queasy feeling in his stomach, thinking about all the times he thought he was alone or with one of his brothers in the quiet…not knowing a ghost or two lurked by. Well, that would be him now, he thought.

“So…” he trailed off. How was this possible? He knew the Jedi talked about the afterlife. Some even attained what he and the others joked as the ‘ghost status’ but they were not Jedi…they were clones? How did this work? Why were they the only ones there? Were they assigned a specific mission or…..what was happening?

Mayday cut into his thoughts, seeing the creeping panic starting to appear on their new friend’s face.

“I know you have a lot of questions but they’ll be answered in time. What I can tell you is…we have unfinished business, and it appears your Batch has something to do with it. Fives here watches over Echo. I watch over Crosshair…I am unsure who you need to look after…now that I think of it, our ranks have grown; we can each watch over everybody. Goodness knows they need it. When our job is done, we can rest with our brothers in peace.”

“Crosshair? You know Crosshair?!?!”

Tech felt excitement for the first time in a long time.

“Ha, yeah I know him. Well, knew him. Good chap. Rusty exterior but he’s a good man..”

“Indeed he is. How is he? Where is he?”

“Ehhhhh,” Mayday rubbed his neck, “Hemlock’s got him…he shot his commander after the commander refused to help me. Could have gotten me aid but didn’t. I guess he was angry that I died. I think a part of him wishes he did too, watching him pull that bone head move. Gotta admire him for it, though, even if I wouldn’t have condoned it. He got arrested then sent to that wonderful human being.”

“I could use better choice words.” Fives rolled his eyes.

“You have.”

“I have.”

“And since, I’ve enjoyed the company of this wonderful being.” Mayday nodded toward Fives with a roll of his eyes. 

“So hard to tell if you are being sarcastic or not, that hurts.”

Tech was stupefied.

“Crosshair? He hated regs…no offense meant….but you must have been special if Crosshair found it in his heart to call you friend.”

“He is.” Fives butted in. “But apparently, I’m a wonderful being and I need to know what that means. Come on, May, tell me, sarcastic or not? Because I am wonderful.”

Mayday sighed and shook his head. 

“Odd how we knew each other for only 24 hours. Never know what effect you’ll have on someone. He was my friend, glad I could have been one to him when he needed one, still am it seems. Funny how I was chosen. I don’t get that, though I’m glad I was.”

“Yes, indeed, thank you. We all have been worried for him.”

“I know you have. Come on, Tech.” Mayday clapped him on the back. “It’s good to have you aboard. With you around, I think we’ll be able to do some good.”

“Wait wait wait! We need a name! We are officially a group now! What should we call ourselves?” Fives asked excitedly. 

“We’re not exactly a batch, so scratch anything with that.” Mayday said thoughtfully. 

“How about, Guardians of the Galaxy!”

Mayday and Tech looked at Fives unimpressed. 

“The Protectors?”

Silence.

“Ok, fine, not that.” He huffed and crossed his arms with a pout. “Give me something to work with boys!”

Tech and Mayday looked at each other then shrugged. Fives sighed.

“Arrrgh ok, don’t be fun you two, I’ll think of something eventually. Now let’s get to work, shall we?”

[boyakishantrinity]

Past Realm, Past Life.

@zelphin124, Here's our submission. Our name is Boyakishan. Thanks @arta07 for dragging host 6 into this.

Consider this part 1 of the story, each submission is it's our story, just working on same canon in both lol.

Prompt: the four Sanses exploring a new AU.

Winds crackled, electricity whooshed as energy split into the empty space, tearing through reality a mask covering her black headed scalp as she stepped into the world.

"... Shit. I think I went a little too far ahead..."

She trailed off. Eyes flickering with curiosity as she saw the remains. Ignitions, flame, ice, void.

"... Either someone's had some very spicy tacos..."

Seriously??

"... OK. FINE. I'VE GOT NOTHING. But like..."

Tilting her head, the mad woman stared at what looked to be devastation

“Mom?”

She snapped to behind her, staring at the young man as he retreated to behind a box.

“... The portal’s-”

“Really? You think I didn’t notice we went a couple hundred thousand years BEFORE the prime era?”

Rubbing her eyes, she sauntered back into the facility, closing the rift behind her as she remained on her chair.

“... SHEEEEESH.”

Hanging off the stool, evnetually she got back up.

“I GOT IT!”

She rushed off, Sans frozen in place as she sprinted into the storage facility.

“... What-”

“SANS. THE ADBREAK!”

“COMING!!”

For once, I wasn’t actually walking into something too unbelievable. Shocking, considering how normally these stories started and ended with some wackadoodle-

“... Ok, so that should work.”

Bracing himself, he asked herself the question.

“What is it this time?”

“..."

Face turning from averse, to pensive before deciding.

“Y’know how we’re blocked from messing with timelines?”

“... you found an exploit. Didn’t you.”

“... for once, actually no. I just took the most volatile situation between those two, grabbed four morons from an Undertale AU and placed them into a situation where-”

She cut herself off, sheepish as he raised his hand.

“... I’m not mad, or disappointed. Just- … Whatever. Make sure the paperwork is done correctly this time. Don’t shred the originals, scan then file them.”

“... Yes sir.”

BOOM.

Falling into the snow, lightning left him tingling and raw as he landed face first into the snow. Trembling, body creaking as his ears rung. The surprised shouting from Summer!Alphys, annoyed roar from Summer!Gaster, his rough hand leaving his right ankle numb as he dropped to his knees.

“What- How…”

Standing on the edge of… The mountain? Where was the beach? Shouldn’t he be able to see the beach from here?? Wait…

He looked up, the sun shining, birds silent… Was he Outside?

“SANS??”

His blood ran cold, the voice filled with anger and rage… What was that noise? He tensed, hands leaping over him as he heard. “SHIT- SHIT- SHIT- SHit- SHITAKI!!!”

Shouting the catchphrase, jumping over the dazed skeleboi, the flash of white vanishing as he finally noticed.

A roar, the growling engine that’d slowly descend… He looked down, standing on grass as his boots stood soaked.

“... Wasn’t this snow??”

He looked up, an enraged brunette with a blazing brown blade brazenly brought her face towards him.

“GET YOUR…”

She froze, they froze. Stuck in place, the woman looked up and down at the skeleton as he stared at her.

Wearing a simple white shirt, jeans and an empty sheathe, the blade slowly smouldering back into a sword as a second rift opened.

“CUSSING CUSS WORD!!”

Falling to the earth, the two had enough time to see a bundle of red drop to the floor, as if by instinct the woman dropped sword and dove under him.

“... Uhhhh.”

Buried under several inches of compacted snow, a massive block of compacted ice crystals left resting between my outstretched arms as the hoverbike finished circling the mountain.

“GET OFF MY BIKE YOU OVERSIZED BLOCK OF-”

Frozen in place, Daphne stared at the three other bone heads. Looking back at the carefully balanced, green skeleboi.

“... Is this some kind of secret- GAH”

Slamming the fish, skeleton and himself forward, the sprinting adolescent rolled into the tall blue one, a mass of limbs and body parts leaving the entire group confused as to what was going on.

The bike’s frame remain motionless, the body of limbs left shouting as the red one dropped off the bundle of snow. The giant snowball following after the red one as it soon caught him under the mass.

“... HEY, LOVE- Wait. Where’d they go??”

Standing a few metres away from the mess, her hair tied behind her head as she looked around the surrounding trees. Scratching her head, she looked around, before noticing the seven random people left to stare at the asian.

“... You’ve got to be kidding me.”

[olliethescribe]

Propaganda!

Pulling out the big guns for this @tmntausummit

Here’s a sneak peek of a future chapter called ‘Tricks’! It’s Leo-centric, and I’ll write more of it if No Crime Only Brooches makes it to 45% in this poll. I mean it.

But for now, enjoy this passage!

The last thing Leo and Ron heard as Warren was dragged away by Donnie was a very desprate “babe, help!” before the kitchen door shut. 

Leo turned back to his mentor, jerking the equivalent of a thumb in the direction of the now closed door.

“Did you know there’s just some guy living in your house? Oh, and he said he’s in love with you, so a little FYI, he might be a little loco, ya feel?” 

“Leo, he’s my fiancé.” The turtle simply blinked at him. “You watched me propose to him several times. Almost burnt down my place of work with that shoddy flash paper job. You stamped out the curtains. Ringing any bells?”

Leo titled his head to the side and quirked an eyebrow. “You’re telling me that’s the same guy?” 

“You’re messin’ with me, mate.” Ron fought the urge to sigh heavily, a frown pulling down the corners of his lips. “You gotta be.” 

“Nope!” Leo pulled up a picture on his phone and turned it around.

“Given his whole situation, I mean have you seen that chin? Your boy-toy has a very distinct face. And then there’s this guy.” The turtle shrugged, barely able to recall what the guy he’d spoken with at the breakfast table looked or sounded like. 

“Well, ‘this guy’ makes me feel right as rain. Been my only partner for the past, what’s it been, two years?” Ron smiled to himself, his previous longest relationship lasting nothing short of a month, going up in smoke much like that nightclub in Vegas. 

“And his name is…?”

“Warren Stone. He’s the love of my life.” 

“Warren, huh? Sounds familiar.” Leo scratched his chin in thought. “Well, if he means a lot to you then he means a lot to me!” 

“Fabulous. I’m glad we got that sorted.” The magician smiled slightly. “Now, now, we have plenty on the docket.”

Ron snapped his fingers, his and Leo’s mugs placed aside as his trick bag and top hat flew to him. “How’s about we start with a simple duplication spell?” 

Leo grinned, having spent the entire night up practicing. Sure, he knew he’d be training with his mentor, but he wanted to come across as capable at least. Figured that if he were already amazing at everything then Ron would be impressed. He’d have to be.

The turtle was handed a card from his mentor’s deck, Ron’s eyes on him semi-expectantly but still dulled from lack of sleep. “Already ahead of ya. Watch this!” 

With a flick of his wrist, Leo produced a second ace of clubs, holding the pair up with a flourish. He saw his mentor’s eyes light up, a grin spreading acrossing the hippo magician’s face. Congratulatory words were almost on the way out when the turtle held a finger up. “But wait, there’s more!” 

Leo clapped both hands together, his two cards becoming four. He fanned them out before fanning himself, a smile dancing on the edges of his beak. 

“Always been one to have an ace up my sleeve, y’know?” 

“Good show!” Ron leaned back against the kitchen counter, thoroughly impressed. His assistant had been studying, something he only somewhat expected out of the turtle. Leo was a teenager after all, and apparently a ninja; if Ron knew anything about that, well, he was sure his apprentice didn’t have much time to practice. 

[ejzah]

A/N: In part one of this story, Deeks and Rosa run into one of Max’s old acquaintances. I believe @mashmaiden pointed out that Kensi and Deeks should have had a discussion with Rosa if something like this should occur. So, this chapter is a follow up where they have that discussion.

The Past Haunts, Part 2

***

“Hey, babe, did you and Rosa have a good time exploring your old haunt?” Kensi asked when she came home from her workout. Deeks accepted her kiss distractedly.

“Uh, yeah, it didn’t exactly go like we planned,” he said, and Kensi frowned, picking up on his tone.

He’d spent the last hour going over his encounter with Gabe. He was kicking himself for how he reacted, but in the moment, he’d panicked. And once Gabe turned his attention to Rosa…his only thought was to protect.

“Didn’t go as planned as in the ice cream shop was closed or something more serious?”

“As in,” Deeks sighed, jaw tightening. “We ran into someone who new Max Gentry. He recognized me.”

“Oh my god,” Kensi gasped. “Was Rosa—”

“No, nothing happened,” Deeks assured her quickly. “He honestly isn’t that dangerous, and I got rid of him quickly.” He dragged his hand through his hair.

Kensi breathed out slowly, looking vaguely relieved, still unsettled.

“I think I unnerved Rosa more than anything. You know, because I had to pretend to be Max.”

“Oh Deeks,” Kensi murmured, expression shifting once again. This time to dismay.

“I know, I should have anticipated that something like this could happen. Max was all over Reseda.”

He was an idiot for letting himself forget that part of his life so thoroughly. He found himself avoiding looking directly at Kensi.

“You couldn’t have. We all have so many aliases floating around, it could happen to any of us.” Kensi grasped his shoulders, waiting until he made eye contact. When he did, he saw way more understanding than he thought he deserved. “So please stop blaming yourself because I don’t.”

Deeks gave a short nod, and forced himself to put aside his own feelings for the moment.

“Ok. But we need to figure out something in case this ever happens again. The next person might not be scared off that easily,” he said.

“You’re right. Is in Rosa in her room?”

“Yeah, she’s finishing her biology paper.”

***

They found Rosa sitting on her bed with her laptop and several textbooks. She looked up with a smile, gesturing them both into the room.

“Hey, Deeks told me what happened when you guys were out earlier,” Kensi began.

A small line formed between her eyebrows, and her eyes flicked to Deeks before she nodded.

“Yes. Marty explained everything to me.”

“I know that was probably a little disconcerting.”

“It was,” Rosa agreed. “But I felt safe with Marty. And I know that he doesn’t do that kind of work anymore.”

“I don’t, but that doesn’t mean dangerous people from my past aren’t out there,” Deeks said.

“For all of us,” Kensi added. “Unfortunately. Deeks and I talked about what we could do to make sure you as safe as possible if anything like this happens again, and we came up with a plan.

“We’ll have a code word: Tacos.” She flashed Deeks a look, and Rosa flashed the tiniest of smirks. “If either of us says that and nothing else, you leave immediately.”

“Then you find the closest, busiest place you can, and call Sam or Callen immediately,” Deeks continued. “Whatever is going on, you do not stick around. I don’t care how worried you are about us. Ok?”

“I understand.” Rosa looked very serious again, but not quite scared. She squared her chin a little.

“I’m sorry we didn’t talk about this sooner,” Kensi said.

“It’s alright. There will always be danger, but at least I have you and Marty to watch over me,” Rosa said with one of her shy smiles.