#the way hes clinging to them for dear life… i feel faint

[muppetbyers]

feeling totally normal about the way will hugs joyce and jonathan

[tellerluna-stories]

catch me if you can!

PAIRING: the wanderer x reader

GENRE: fluff! how it feels to fall for him (quite literally lol)

TW/CW: no graphic content! contains a chase scene + mildly morbid descriptions thanks to salted mushroom man

A/N: this was supposed to be a part of a bunch of other self-indulgent drabbles (including childe and heizou my beloveds,,,) but I've been so busy with irl stuff that I didn't have the energy to write all of them :< so now bongo-head over here has the limelight LOL let's enjoy ourselves to the max scaranation

"Over there! In that alleyway!"

The breath in your lungs rasped uncomfortably as you ran uphill, the treacherous twists and turns of the city winding like a labyrinth before you. There was little room for light in the back-alleys, save for a faint smudge of light in the distance; you willed your feet to move towards that light, pounding against the stone in one last push for freedom—

You burst into daylight and gasped, barely avoiding pitching head-first over the railing at the last moment; the alleyway lead to a gorgeous view of the city below, with a wide spread of coloured roofs that meant almost certain death if you tried making your escape that way.

"You won't get away!" Behind you, the leader of your pursuers snarled, drawing his sword as he stepped closer. The glint in his eyes was nowhere near friendly, and talking things out didn't seem to be an option for he and his crew.

Oh well... Looks like you had no other choice.

You closed your eyes and launched yourself off the railing in one foolish, death-defying leap, and all the world became nothing but pure wind beneath your fingertips.

SWOOSH!

A familiar scent of lotuses and lightning fills your senses, and what was nothing but cold air in your hands has become something warm and soft— you didn't need to open your eyes to know who your saviour is.

"You idiot," He hisses, but in that moment you're too giddy to care. A wild, breathless laugh escapes from your lips as you threw your arms around his neck, clinging on for dear life.

"Do you know how dangerous that stunt was?! You could've fallen straight to your death and they would have had to mop bits of you off the ground!"

"But I didn't!" You singsong, screaming to the winds with all your heart. "You caught me, and that's all that matters! I can only jump like this because I know you'll always be there to catch me!"

The Wanderer says nothing, for he doesn't need to; he speaks in the way his hands tighten their grip on your waist, the slight pressure as he brings you closer to rest in the curve of his shoulder. The clouds fly past in the blink of an eye, but not even the softest of sky-fleece can tempt you to reach for them— not when your arms hold something far more precious, far dearer to your heart than anything else.

[cbsxreader]

could i please have the mercs with someone who has severe trypanophobia, to the point of going into a fight or flight response upon being exposed to needles? sorry if this is dumb or otherwise Bad

Sorry that this took a while!!! 😭 Also, I don't know much about having phobias n stuff so, sorry if I wrote anything wrong

Mercs with an S/o who has severe trypanophobia

Cw: Needles, trypanophobia

Scout

Scout acts like he isn't afraid of needles himself and says they're not that bad, but in reality he has a fear of them too. So, he isn't too confused about his S/o's phobia.

Distracts his S/o by doing tricks and small stunts to get their mind off of the fact that they're getting a shot. Even if it rarely works or doesn't work at all, Scout doesn't give up on his S/o.

If they freak out, Scout freaks out too and there's not a chance either of them calm down. After a single appointment, Scout completely understands just how much his S/o is freaked out by needles. Also, they both go out to get something to eat to put the appointment behind them.

Soldier

Doesn't really understand why his S/o is so afraid of needles, like, not at all. He's seen and experienced way worse than a single, little prick to the skin and he doesn't understand what his S/o finds so scary in it.

Even if Soldier doesn't understand their fear, he still comes to appointments at their request. While he remains non-bothered, his S/o internally worries.

When Soldier actually sees how afraid his S/o is and how they cling to him for dear life, he goes wild and throws away and destroys all needles on sight.

Pyro

Is afraid of needles too, though not as much as their S/o. Pyro doesn't completely freak out, they're just a bit nervous. So when their S/o tells them they have a phobia of needles, they feel very sympathetic.

They try gifting their S/o a plush toy they can hold while getting a shot, maybe something to squeeze or pet while trying to stay calm. Sometimes that plush can be Pyro! They're more than happy to see their S/o overcome their anxiety even a little bit for the better good.

Pyro even tries to motivate their S/o by sucking up their own fear of getting shots and try to show that it's not so bad. Doesn't matter if it actually encourages their S/o or not, they're not forcing them to at all.

Demoman

Not a big fan of needles either. Though it's just a feeling of uneasy-ness and he shies away from the doctor if he needs to get a shot. So, he understands his S/o's fear of needles.

Demo might try to reason with the doctor if there's any way for him to hold his S/o still as they get their shot. It's all for their better health, even though he does feel a bit bad about restraining his S/o.

Demo praises his S/o and lets them know how proud he is of them after an appointment. All he wants to see is his S/o trying to live peacefully with their phobia and even overcome it a tiny bit, so he'll make sure he helps them in that journey.

Heavy

A big, tough man like him can't understand why his S/o is scared of needles which are just quick little pokes in their skin to make them feel better.

Heavy has to hold his S/o in a bear hug every time they go to a doctor's or Medic's office, mainly to catch them if they faint and to hold them still if a fight response gets triggered. They're clinging onto him like their life depends on it.

If his S/o freaks out, Heavy tries to keep them still with his strength, but secretly feels guilty about it. To try to calm them down to endure the prick to their skin, he speaks to them in Russian in a comforting voice to divert their attention.

Engineer

It takes a little while for Engineer to understand his S/o's fear of needles because he's a practical man, but he gets there.

He tries to reason with his S/o, trying to tell them that it's just to make them feel better but he eventually understands it's something more than just a fear.

If he's allowed, he'll hold his S/o's hand to keep them calm when they get a shot. Engie really only understands how bad his S/o's phobia is when he has to handle them as they're hyperventilating and panicking.

Medic

He doesn't know why his S/o freezes up and doesn't respond to him when they stumble into his lab. He stares at them in confusion before realizing what he has on a stool right next to him.

Medic scurries to hide them in a cabinet and welcomes his S/o in. If they've gone into a panicked state, he tries his best to calm them down

If his S/o wants to spend time with him but he's performing a surgery and needs to use a needle, he motions with his hand for his S/o to look away. Though they can still get a bit nervous.

Overall, it's made him dapper up his lab for his S/o to not freak out. Maybe he understands and doesn't understand his S/o's fear of needles at the same time because "It's just a little prick", but he tries, that's what matters.

Sniper

Sniper kind of understands his S/o's fear of needles because he's not the biggest fan of them either. Not to the point of being terrified but more like a slightly displeased feeling of when he needs a shot.

Will come to his S/o's appointments just to make them feel more safe. Sniper can only pull them closer to himself when they grip his forearm.

Awkwardly fumbles when his S/o actually freaks out and tries to calm them down by soothing them and petting their scalp. If he needs to, he will hold his S/o so they can get their shot.

Spy

Spy mostly understands why they're afraid, he's sort of the most understanding too, because he knows phobias can't easy to overcome and can't be controlled at times.

Promises his S/o to give them something nice like chocolates and stuff after an appointment. Basically, if his S/o tries to overcome their anxiety, even if it's just them shaking but not completely freaking out, he congratulates them and praises them that they tried to do something about their phobia.

If his S/o starts to panic because they've been exposed to needles, Spy will be quick to react and will try to calm them down the best way he can. He mainly talks French to them in a soothing voice to try to calm them down and reason with them.

[jmvore]

Kisses, Cuddles, & Everything in Between 💖

› pairing(s) » cat hybrid!jimin x f!reader x bunny hybrid!jungkook › word(s) » 1.2k+ › warning(s) » cuddles, soft kisses, reader dealing with things and needing reassurance, not insecurity but just being overwhelmed, anxiety, so much love in one room, ai pictures of Jungkook & Jimin (obvi). › cc's playlist » love is you by chrisette michelle › a/n » thank you @/lostsozai for the dividers!

Jimin's purrs are lower and deeper than usual as the rain falls against the roof and windows. It creates a low soothing rhythm the feels equivalent to the beat of your heart. He has his head laid in your lap, all the while, his legs are stretched to accommodate the three of you. His fingers lazily trace over your mid-thigh tattoo, playing with your fingers to try and calm you. His way of trying to soothe you.

 Jungkook watches both of you closely, his long bunny ears slumped rather than standing tall because he can sense the awful mood you’re in. He knows you’re having a bad day and you know Jimin can sense it too. Your scent has been bitter and all they want to do is return it to its normal state. You know that's the reason why they’re clinging to you, hoping it'll help you feel better.

 “You know we’re here for you, Noona. Always and Forever,” Jungkook whispers, holding your waist tighter as he traces the intricate lines of your tattoo that travel down your arm. He lets you curl into his warmth to sulk and kisses the shell of your ear as a way of trying to comfort you. It seems to be working when he can hear your sobs turn into sniffles. “It’s gonna be okay.”

 “I-I know…” Your voice sounds broken as it catches in your throat. Your leg shakes as you take a deep breath to try and calm the anxiety building in your chest. You take to looking out of the window, seeing a family of four across the street trying their best to get out of the rain. It makes you chuckle, just a little even as you’re trying your hardest to hold back more tears. 

 Your heart feels heavy as if it’s sitting right on your chest cavity. You can’t breathe… Your brain feels as if it’s malfunctioning but you know you have to soldier on. Not only for your sake but for theirs too. You just wish Namjoon was here too but sadly, he had to work. He left with promises of bringing your favorite food home. You knew you couldn’t beg him not to go to work seeing as there’s a huge case he’s working on and he can’t take off at the moment. 

 As if sensing your inner turmoil, Jimin sits up to face you as it takes you by surprise. 

“We love you…” He mumbles, crawling to put himself right between your legs so he can bury his face in the crook of your neck to scent. He knows it doesn’t really work seeing as you’re not a hybrid and you don’t have a scent gland but it makes him feel better knowing his and Jungkook’s scents somehow calms down your spike. You do have a faint natural scent, however. It’s a soft spicy cinnamon scent that merges well with the rich aroma of Jimin’s caramel and apple as well as Jungkook’s ginger scent and since Namjoon’s faint honeyed scent lingers in the air, it’s the only thing keeping both of them from breaking down with you. 

You continue to pet the top of Jimin’s hair and comb your fingers right between his pretty blond and black cat ears. It’s cute how he closes his eyes to feel, rubbing his nose against your next and holding on to for dear life. He’s happy and content and now he just wants you to be too.

“I love you both…” You try your best muster up a smile to let them know you’re going to be fine but it ends up looking more like a grimace.  

“When hyung gets home we can all cuddle in bed,” Jimin proposes as Jungkook eagerly nods at his plan. That’s All you wanted to distract you from what’s going anyway. To keep you from crying your heart out more. “Noona…?”

“That sounds good.” You kiss Jimin’s forehead before laying your head back on Jungkook’s chest to try and breathe.  

“Are you at least feeling better?” 

“I’m fine. I’ll be fine. I promise.”

Jimin huffs, shuffling in his place to sit up to sit back on his legs. His hands are on either side of your face as he stares you right in the eyes. He’s been trying his best not to cry with you, Knowing Jungkook can’t handle it because he’ll burst into tears too. You try to look away but he holds your face in place as he squishes your cheeks and pouts. It makes your lips poke out like a blow-fish and both of them giggle at it. When they see you’re not laughing with them, however, Jimin sighs. 

“We’ll get through this together. I know it hurts and I know you’re trying to hold it together but it’s okay to cry. To let go. You can do that in front of us and we’ll be here to hold you and encourage you to keep going.”

“We’ll be here to help you keep going,” Jungkook says, wiping a stray tear from your cheek. Jungkook catches your eye, his smile almost blinding as the sun. His and Jimin’s eyes sparkle with so many stars it looks like your own personal galaxy that it makes you laugh to keep from breaking down more. Not from sadness, at least not anymore. But from the fact that you have two loving hybrids who want to make sure you’re happy and healthy.

[roseofdarknessblog]

Make me a father (Porco Galliard x Reader)

Word count: 2 280

Disclaimer: english is not my first language, I apologize in advance for any mistakes  

Warning: 18+, minors and ageless blogs do not interact!

Summary: You always knew Porco wanted a family of his own. But you never expected he would ask for a baby so openly and directly.

Make me a father

With your head slightly hanging off the bed′s edge, you tried your best to keep eye contact with Porco. You knew he liked it that way – seeing every single emotion reflecting in your eyes or written across your face.

Looking directly into your eyes made him feel in control of your body and the whole situation. It made him feel the power you let him have over you, when you lay there underneath him, without a piece of clothing and with your face flushed and sweaty.

But most of all, he liked hearing you during the whole act. Your sweet whimpers and moans made him want you even more.

He needed to hear you calling out his name, whispering sweet nothings, or just trying to catch your breath, while he worked his magic with your body. Exploring every inch of it, savoring the warmth of your skin, which kept sending tingles of pleasure down his spine.

The moments between the two of you were filled with tenderness and affection. With all the most beautiful and sincere emotions one can imagine. Porco always made sure that everything he did, felt good for you. He wanted you to feel comfortable and loved. Desired and praised for how good you were taking everything he put you through in those heated moments when his lips were tasting you all over your naked body, illuminated only by a faint light from the bedside table.

„You′re so damn beautiful,“ Porco said, breathing hard, as his sweat-covered forehead pressed against yours. You could feel every single one of his hot breaths all across your face, while you dig your nail into his back. „And all mine,“ he added, almost aggressively pressing his lips against your mouth for a quick kiss. „Say it. I want to hear you say those words!“

If he could, he would worship every inch of your body every second of the day. That's how much Porco Galliard loved you. All of you.

„Which words?“ you teased him, barely able to get those words out, as you were trying to catch your breath. But it was a desperate attempt.

With a grin on his lips, his right hand wrapped around your neck, stopping you from turning your head to the side. „You know all too well!“ he hissed, kissing your neck and leaving bite marks all over it, before doing the very same thing to your left shoulder.

This has always been his way of reminding you, that you were his and only his. You were his wife and there was nobody in this world, who would be allowed to do such things to you. Porco was the only one, who knew how, where, and when to touch or kiss you. Your body knew his more than perfectly and Porco was aware of it. And enjoyed it.

„Say it!“ Porco insisted, biting your shoulder so hard, you yelped in surprise, while slight pain ran through your whole being. But it only lasted a second, just until Porco began to thrust into you even harder and faster.

„I′m...“ you started, wrapping your legs around him tighter, to keep him as close as possible. „I′m all yours.“ Those words slipped out of your mouth and brushed right against Porco′s hot skin.

Those words were all he needed to hear. Even in the dimmed light, you could see the proud expression on his face, when he heard them. They gave him the power he so loved having over you. Not in a mean or aggressive way, just possessive enough, that you still found it attractive and desirable.

„I’m mad about you,“ he said, clinging to you for dear life.

You tried to say something back, anything, really. But only more whimpers came out of your mouth, while you gripped Porco′s wrist and tried to pull his hand away from your neck. He gave in, trying to maintain eye contact as your fingers slipped through his hair.

The beautiful silhouette of his body was hovering right above you, letting you marvel at the curves of his muscles and the contours of his handsome face.

You closed your eyes just a moment before Porco let out the most innocent and desire-filled whimper you′ve ever heard from him. Just as he came right inside of you, his head fell into the crook of your neck, his whole body shaking with the effort of catching his breath.

Your heart was pounding almost painfully hard against your ribcage, as you kissed the top of his head, both of you reveling in the warmth of one another. Today was long and not the best, but this... this moment, only in the presence of your husband made it so much better. It had only been two months since your wedding, but life felt like magic since that day. Even more than before, during those five years you and Porco dated.

„I want a baby,“ Porco suddenly said, his fingers gently caressing your side, his thumb lightly running over the small scar you′ve had since childhood. „I want you to make me a father.“

With furrowed brows, you lifted your head. But when Porco didn't move a muscle, you relaxed underneath him once again, letting all the feelings run through your body for a couple more minutes.

„Did you hear me?“ he asked when you didn′t respond.

„Yeah, I did,“ you answered, running your nails over his back more gently now. It was already all red and scratched up. But you knew he liked it, otherwise, you wouldn't do it. „What makes you think that it′s the right time? We′ve only just got married.“

„And? Some people have a baby even before marriage.“

„But we are not some people, Porco. We are... you and me.“

He chuckled and lifted his head, giving you a sweet kiss on your forehead. He slowly pulled out but stayed resting on top of you, his arms desperately wrapping around your body, to keep you close.

„I think we would make great parents.“

You shook your head, cradling his head against your chest, looking into the ceiling, and thinking about his words. You′ve thought about having kids before but never made a final decision if you wanted to have them.

„What do you think?“ You shrugged, while Porco planted a kiss on the center of your chest. He was waiting for an answer that never came.

Not that night.

Getting used to sleepless nights was the hardest part. At least for you. But in the end, it was all worth it. Mainly during moments like this. When you woke up, turned around in bed, and saw the sweetest scenery – your husband without a shirt and with your newborn son calmly laying on his chest.

„Was he crying again?“ you asked exhaustedly, rubbing the sleep away from your eyes. „I didn′t hear him. And you didn′t wake me up.“

„What for? I got up, made him a bottle, changed his diaper, and tried to rock him back to sleep. But as you can see, it didn't work.“

With a smile, you noticed how your son was looking right at you. His light-blue eyes half opened and half closed, as Porco gently rubbed his back, drawing tiny circles onto his soft skin. With his other hand, he was holding one of the books Bert gifted you during your baby shower.

„We both know you need some extra sleep, so I gladly took care of everything. Little dude looks satisfied,“ he joked, kissing his son′s head. He had hair like Porco, blond and thick. And thanks to him, always perfectly combed, even if he had to fix it multiple times a day. „He just doesn′t want to sleep.“

„Well, he likes hanging out with you.“

„At...“ he said, put down the book, and reached for his phone on the nightstand to check the time. It was still dark when you looked over to the window. „Three in the morning?“

You shrugged, leaning closer and kissing your son′s tiny little forehead. He slightly lifted his head from Porco′s chest, making you smile even wider. The decision to have a baby at this time of your life didn′t come easy to you. You needed to think about many things, mainly your work. But looking back at all of those decisions you had to make, you didn′t regret any of them.

This... this period of your life was the most beautiful yet. Even more, because you got to experience it with the love of your life. Seeing Porco become the father he so wanted to be, was magical. No, it was even more than magical. You were still in awe every single moment of every single day. It looked like he was born for this. He always knew what to do, how to calm your little one down, and how to handle even the hardest situations.

„What?“ Porco asked.

„Nothing, just... you two look so cute together,“ you said, reaching out your hand toward your son. His little hand almost immediately wrapped around your thumb, squeezing it surprisingly hard. „Oh, you′re getting strong, baby. Strong like your daddy.“

„Of course he is. He'll soon be more of a man than I've ever been,“ Porco joked. You could hear the proudness in his voice. He was like this from the very first moment after your baby was finally born. And even before that, during the longest nine months of your life. He loved to talk to your belly multiple times a day, insisting that the baby needs to get used to his voice. „And only thanks to you, babe.“

„No, thanks to us. We′re raising him together.“

„Don′t forget about Marcel and Pieck,“ he reminded you, making you smile. His brother and your best friend were a big part of your baby′s life since you told them about your pregnancy. They wanted to be involved in everything, always being there when you needed help with something. „Those two are obsessed with him.“

„Can you blame them? Just look at him.“

The little one was a perfect mixture of you both. He had your lips and chin, but definitely, Porco′s nose and his big eyes. He loved to say, that they are definitely going to turn hazel in a couple of months. And you hoped he would be right. Having a mini version of your beloved husband seemed too cute to pass up.

„He is everything I hoped for,“ Porco said, carefully leaning closer to you and pressing your lips together. He thanked you probably a million times, that you made him a father and gave him the most precious gift ever. While it was challenging for the both of you, to get used to this new life, he enjoyed every single second. It was apparent in his every action and every word. „And I really can′t wait until he′s a bit older and we can do a bunch of fun stuff together.“

You knew he would be an amazing father long before your son was born. After all, he took excellent care of you during your pregnancy. He kept up with all of your moods and emotions, tried some of your pregnancy cravings with you, and loved taking you baby shopping whenever you wished. With Marcel′s help they put together the nursery in barely three days, keeping in mind every single detail to make the room perfect.

„Not that I′m not enjoying every single moment right now.“

„You look really happy when you′re with him. Happier than I’ve ever seen you before.“ Porco smiled, while you sat up and cuddled up to him. You ran your fingers through your son’s hair just as he slowly closed his eyes.

„This is all I’ve ever wanted. My very own little family. With you, of course.“

„What if I said no back then?“

„You didn’t.“

„But what if I did?“ you nudged his side teasingly, pressing your lips to his cheek in a quick kiss, before giving the very same kiss to your baby as well. Porco’s mom told you, that Porco had almost identical chubby cheeks when he was a baby.

„You didn’t and you won’t do the next time either,“ Porco answered confidently.

„Yeah? What makes you so sure?“ you teased him, carefully picking up your son, and while cradling him against your chest, you sat astride on Porco’s abdomen. A surprised grin made its way onto his lips, while his arms gently grabbed your hips.

„What makes me so sure?“ he repeated your question, while you leaned forward and connected your lips. Before you pulled away once again, he pressed a tiny kiss into the baby’s hair. „You love seeing me do all the fatherly things. And you would very much miss the sight of me carrying a baby around when this little dude gets a bit older.“

You smiled, biting down on your lower lip. „Well... you do look irresistible and very attractive while taking care of him. And carrying him around the house without a shirt all the time.“

„You know what the doctor said. Skin-to-skin is very important for babies, especially in these first few weeks.“

With a playful nod and another kiss, you looked down at the sleeping baby in your arms. He really was the sweetest little gift this life could have given you. All the more, you could experience all these tender and adorable moments with Porco, who already proved himself to be the best father ever. And you could only dream what the future would bring to your family – more blessings and love-filled days spent together, enjoying even the tiniest little details of ordinary life.

[try-set-me-on-fire]

@devirnis @eddiebabygirldiaz @rewritetheending @wildlife4life @lover-of-mine @daffi-990 all tagged me for fuck it Friday and I wasn't going to post anything but then as I climbed into bed the opening of a buddie supernatural au popped into my head and then tapped it's way into a google doc. I'm not actually going to write a full fic for this (probably) but sharing this little scrap feels in the nature of this tag game. It's not even Friday anymore so not going to tag anyone unless you, dear reader, see this and feel compelled to share something kicking around in a document somewhere. Fuck it! It's always Friday somewhere (if you forget how days work)! Uhhh canon typical violence warning....

Eddie isn’t a stranger to being called a miracle. A miracle baby, he was; born almost two months early when a ghoul out for revenge had tried to snack on Helena’s gray matter. Neither of them should have survived it, but a few weeks later she brought her little bundle of joy home from the hospital, wailing real loud from his big strong lungs. "It was a miracle you were there, mijo," his father told him when he was six years old and shot a man dead, a man with black eyes who’d broke into the house when he was there alone with Sophia, three years old and screaming, Ramon out on a hunt and Helena at the doctor with the baby. "You’re a miracle worker, Diaz," hunters all over the country have told him with a gritty handshake when he’s helped them put something terrible in the ground. (When Shannon had kissed him under the bleachers for the first time, that had felt like a miracle, too. Her lips were soft and her hands had the same calluses as his, she had the same faint lines across the back of her arm from the testing bite of silver blades. Here was someone who knew, who he didn’t have to lie to, who liked him enough to press all that scarred and unscarred skin together with his. Things fell apart, over and over, in the years after that, but still. That first kiss. Not feeling lonely for maybe the first time ever in his life. Was it not a divine act?) He's 28 when he crawls out of his own grave, dirt clinging to clothes and flesh and coating his mouth, his teeth, stinging his eyes. He stumbles home on wobbly legs like a newborn thing, and maybe he is one, freshly alive as he is. He knocks on his front door however many days it's been since he'd watched his own blood mix with Shannon's on the floor of some old and haunted house — clinging to life long enough to see it start to coagulate because please, god, please, they have a kid at home — and after the holy water and the silver and iron and any other test anyone in the family can think of his abuela takes his face between her hands and weeps “Es un milagro! A miracle! A miracle!”  And in a week, in a barn somewhere outside El Paso, he will learn that this time she is right. 

[peaceoutofthepieces]

hi!! it's the kevjean anon again. i have to say that i looove the way you write them and also i'm STARVING from the lack of kevjean content lately so i'd like to request one more thing if that's ok :) now this may be more challenging but would you consider writing these two with 5 (romantic kiss) from the kiss prompts? i'm fully aware that they probably could never have a healthy relationship in canon after everything, but i'm delusional and i love them and i also need to see them heal together :( once again thank you and have a wonderful day!

i thought we might want a kiss, but was unsure for the last prompt, so thank you for entrusting me and coming back!

i have always been a jerejean truther at heart on the romance front, but i see the vision. and just for you dear anon, i'll do my best

5. Romantic (Tender) Kiss

Jean is no stranger to darkness. The Nest had taught him why the darkness is to be feared, but that it cannot be ignored—only endured. It's impossible to avoid entirely, so one does what one can to survive it. Most will seek out a source of light, and cling to it. The scariest nights, after all, are those without stars.

Jean had known, from the beginning, that Kevin Day was always supposed to be a star. The number on his cheek meant nothing. In Jean's eyes, as in so many others, Kevin outshone all his surroundings. Even in the darkest hour, his light remained, a twinkling spark, indestructible and guiding. Darkness followed Jean like a shadow, covered him like a blanket, and should have swallowed him whole and snuffed him out long ago.

But the brightest star had shone its light on him, and he had endured.

But a star was not meant to be touched; a star could not belong to a person. It followed its own trajectory, and it burned if it came too close. Stars only shone from afar, and were only meant to be admired as such. Jean should have known he could not hold onto one for long.

Still, no one could ignore the sudden absence of a light in the sky. Anyone would feel its effects, and would shrink under the growing darkness.

This is what Jean told himself; this is how Jean endured.

At first, he felt robbed. Surely, a star that had been snuffed out would be easier to hold onto. Then, he felt comforted, to see that Kevin had not been—that he shone as brightly as ever, if not brighter. He had been made all the more untouchable, and then, Jean found acceptance. A star never shone for only one person; like everything else in the universe, it drifted.

But like everything else in the universe, stars eventually cycle back to where they began.

Jean had not expected his star to return, but it does.

And slowly, light flickers back into Jean's life.

Slowly, Kevin comes back around, and when the distance between them closes again, Jean burns anew.

This time, he does not have to worry about holding on; Kevin takes hold of him, and brings Jean into his orbit himself.

Now, in the dark, light draws closer to Jean than ever, and he can not bring himself to feel afraid.

Kevin's weight next to his is a comfort—another thing Jean did not expect, but does not wish to question. He takes what he is given greedily, without resistance, as if he himself is the darkness, endless and endlessly waiting for a flicker of light to give him some spark of life. And what better to light him up than this star, endlessly shining?

"What are you thinking of?" Kevin asks him, in gentle, perfect French, his gentle, perfect touch lighting on Jean's temple.

"You," Jean answers, truthful and unashamed, "as always."

Once, that might have made Kevin worry; once, that would have held the beginnings of a fight, the spark all in Jean's tone, ready to blow them to pieces once set alight. Now, it holds nothing but contentment, and a faint flicker of surprise at the feeling that Jean doubts will ever leave him.

Now, Kevin smiles, a gleam of light in the night. Jean arches towards it like a bud eager to bloom. Kevin's fingers slip from his temple into his hair, tracing lines of fire along Jean's scalp. The heat draws Jean in. He presses close, using the arm already wound around Kevin's waist as leverage, to slip a leg between Kevin's and press his face to Kevin's neck. His lips brush Kevin's skin, and Kevin's hand tightens in his hair. Only when Kevin makes a soft, encouraging noise does Jean allow himself to kiss him there, careful and tender. Kevin's throat works under his lips, and Jean draws back, his chest tight.

Kevin senses the darkness encroaching and adjusts accordingly, diminishing it before it can take hold. He cups Jean's face in his hand and brings him back into the safety of his molecular cloud, the two of them in their own orbit. Their breaths mingle, and the taste of air loosens Jean's chest before Kevin kisses him.

Kevin's lips are soft, and Jean has grown used to the way they move. He has learned the shape of them, all their curves and contours.

He is still adjusting to how light it makes him feel.

It is in moments like this that Jean wonders if he has always underestimated Kevin. Kevin, when he kisses him, feels much more powerful than a star. He is the God that created them to begin with; he is admired in the form of worship, and Jean's are the prayers he has chosen to answer.

"You," Jean murmurs again, nonsensical to anyone but himself, but the only answer he has.

send me a number + ship

[seenoversundown]

Amongst The Stars: Chapter Seven

Josh x Quinn (Nonbinary OC) Warnings: Fluff, Mentions of alcohol, Pining (actual pining, Josh is down bad), To reiterate: Josh is down bad this chapter, Getting Jaked, Masturbation Jokes, Unnecessarily long facetimes. Word Count: 4.3k Summary: Josh has always loved love,  and he's finally found it. Buuuut, he can't exactly tell anyone. Join him as he navigates the ins and outs of his sweet, secret romance. Author's Note: This chapter is so cute to me, and I hope you all enjoy it too. We have a little bit to go before our two dummies are ready to be together, but the seeds are there. 

“Clinging to your late-night courage Anything to pass the time Lying in the backseat, trying not to fall apart Waiting for your life to start.” Driving Through a Dream - Andrew McMahon in the Wilderness

I walk through the aisles of the craft store, tidying up before our afternoon rush. The Generic Christian music pumping through the speakers is the soundtrack to this mindless task. As I pick up misplaced items and return them to their homes, I find myself lost in thought. These days, most of my daydreaming involves Quinn. The way they giggle sits heavy at the front of my mind, followed quickly by their passionate wit and otherworldly beauty that spans soul-deep. It’s been over a week since they’ve graced me with their presence, and I long to see them. 

I’m startled out of my thoughts by the sound of footsteps at the front of the aisle. Speak of the devil. I think as I look up.  “Oh! You’re back!” I wave, perhaps too enthusiastically, at Quinn as they walk down the aisle toward me. “Hah!” They laughed, “Yeah, I can’t seem to stay away from you.”

My stomach does a little flip at that. I know they don’t mean anything by it, but I wish they did. Nothing would make me happier in life than being able to call Quinn mine. I see a faint blush grace the tops of their cheeks as they pause, seemingly realizing what they said. I wish I could reach out and comfort them. “I’m here because I need to buy even more supplies for my kids,” They spit out quickly to try and hide their embarrassment.  “Did Matilda eat the chalk again?” I ask, remembering a certain chalk eating student Quinn mentioned previously.  “Noooooo,” a giggle bubbles out of them, “I can't believe you remember that.” 

Of course, I remember; I remember every little detail Quinn deems worthy to tell me. 

“I’m just dealing with some personal things and don't have access to the stuff I keep stashed at home,” they continue, placing a hand on the back of their neck. And oh, how it kills me to see them uncomfortable.  “I hope it’s nothing too bad,” I reach out to pat their arm, “I’m happy to lend an ear if you need one,” I flash them a bright smile.  “You know, it may make me feel better if I talk about it to someone besides my roommate,” they wring their hands, “but I don't want to burden you with my troubles.”  “Your troubles could never be a burden, dear.” 

Quinn rewards me with a shy smile before giving themself a little shake like they're trying to hype themself up for whatever they're about to tell me. 

“I um, I…” they close their eyes and take a deep breath, “I broke up with my partner a few days ago.” 

I’m flabbergasted. I could not imagine being with Quinn and throwing it all away. Though I shouldn’t be shocked, I have met Craig a time or two. I try to keep the shock off of my face as I gently prod them for more info. 

“I’m sorry to hear that. Are you well?” I dramatically slap a hand to my forehead, “No, wait. That’s a stupid question.” They huff out a small chuckle, “No, I’m fine. Our relationship ran its course, and it was time. The problem is that it all happened so quickly, so most of my stuff is still at our, I mean his, apartment.” “Oh! I’m glad you're fine. But I’m happy to help you get your stuff if needed. I have a truck, and I’m off on Sundays,” I reach into my pocket and pull my phone out, handing it to Quinn, “Here, gimme your number, and we can coordinate!”  “There are easier ways to get my number that don't involve signing yourself up for manual labor,” they crack a crooked smile. My eyes go wide, and a million thoughts flit through my head. Oh God, I hope they don't think I’m trying to pick them up. I obviously wouldn't be opposed to it, but Jesus Christ, that was not my goal. Should I say something? Can I salvage this? Oh, My tummy hurts. 

“Oh, uh, that wasn't,” my brain tries to kick back into gear as Quinn hands me my phone back. “Relax, Josh. I was joking. I was upset that I didn't get your number before leaving the cafe the other day,” they attempt to calm me down, “I had a wonderful time hanging out that day and would have loved to be able to continue our conversation.”  “Oh, good,” I make a dramatic show of wiping imaginary sweat off my brow, “I do wish I was getting your number under better circumstances, though.”  “Eh, what can you do? Anyway, I’ll get out of your hair. I just wanted to stop and say hello,” they flash a grin and walk toward the drawing supplies, “Oh, and don’t forget to text me.” Oh, I certainly will not forget. I went back to mindlessly tidying the store, amazed by the laziness of some people. Is it so difficult to walk your unwanted knitting needles back to the aisle they originally came from? It’s one aisle away. 

Oh, never mind all that; nothing will ruin my afternoon now. 

I clock out and practically skip to the parking lot. I don’t get the least bit annoyed when I step into a puddle, dirty water seeping into the canvas of my white vans. I’m not even a tiny bit angry when some jackass flies into the parking lot and nearly hits me as I’m walking to my car. I don’t care when I realize I didn’t take my keys out of my work locker, and I have to walk back inside and back to the break room. I even stop by the cash registers on my way back out to tell Martha Carruthers, one of our most notoriously rude and demanding regular customers, to have a lovely afternoon. 

When I finally got into my car, I let the radio play on without intervention. This day is going my way; I trust that the radio gods won’t let me down either. I pull out into the early afternoon traffic and get lost in whatever song shuffles first from my Apple Music. 

“Staring out the window with your, with your head on my shoulder Try to get some sleep. We’ll be driving through a dream.” 

I begin to visualize a future where I look over, and Quinn is in my passenger’s seat, one Doc Marten’d foot on my dashboard, with their window down and summer wind blowing through their hair. The ocean air, faintly scented like salt and fish, circulated through the truck, mixing with the scent of our sunscreen. They’re scream-singing along with the radio, and they’re made of pure, unbridled joy. 

I’m pulled from my daydream by someone honking behind me. I look up and see I’m at the four-way stop across from the bar. Holy shit, did I drive home on autopilot? I’m banning myself from daydreaming in the car. I turn my blinker on and take a left, waving apologetically out my window and hoping the poor person wasn’t waiting too long behind me. As soon as I pull into my usual parking spot, I hop out of my truck and basically fucking frolicked my way to the stairs leading to mine and Jake’s apartment. As I reach the top of the stairs and shove my key in the deadbolt, I hear Jake puttering around inside the apartment. 

“I’m home, brother dearest,” I sing-song as I fling the door open. I step inside and kick the door shut behind me, stopping to hang my keys up and take my shoes off. Living above a bar taught us how essential a shoes off household is when it comes time to clean, and I’d rather eat my left fist than track bar funk across the hardwood. 

“FINALLY,” he calls back, “I’m in the kitchen, and I need your help with something.”  “It’s as if you’re only happy to see me when you need something from me,” I let out a massive sigh and slowly made my way to the kitchen. As I cross the threshold, I see Jake leaning over the counter. “Right on the money, bub,” he looks up from the interesting purple concoction he’s focused on and rolls his eyes, “Now, stop being dramatic. I need help with the tasting notes for next month’s specialty cocktail.” “And you’re doing this up here instead of in your bar; why?”  “Oh, sweet, young Joshua. Every supplier,” he raises an eyebrow, “knows you never take from your own product.” “And you call me dram-“ I cut myself off mid-sentence, fully processing his statement, “YOUNG Joshua? I was born first, and I will see that you die first if you ever disrespect me again.” He snorts out a laugh before proceeding, “No, I wanted to do this up here so I could actually think about it instead of getting distracted by some random bullshit down there.”  “Fair point, you do seem to take your job way more seriously than the average person.”  He narrowed his eyes at that little jab, “God forbid someone wants to succeed!” I fix him with a half smile. He’s just proving my point that dramatics run in the family. “Okay, okay. Let’s get this done. I have stuff to do, Kiddo," I jokingly bite out, and he rolls his eyes at the nickname.  “Like what? All you do is go to work and sit at home.” “I resent that implication,” I say as I watch him giggle at his joke. “You resent it because it’s true. I’m sure your big plans involve sitting on the couch and streaming a movie. Stardust, perhaps?” I gasp because he isn’t wrong, making Jake laugh harder. “I know you damn near better than you know yourself. You are obviously in a good mood, which means something good happened to you today, and you ALWAYS put Stardust on for everything. Happy, sad, promotion, getting fired, it’s all Stardust”  “Yeah, well. I just had a lovely day at the store today, and I want to celebrate in my own little way.”

Jake knows there’s more to it than that, but he doesn’t push me on it because he also knows I’ll tell him when I’m ready. I am not ready to admit to my brother that I’ve actually fallen into a deep, deep infatuation with someone I barely know, someone he's not even met. He’ll think I’m insane, and he wouldn’t necessarily be wrong. I feel insane every single time I think about it. 

“Anyway, essentially, what I want you to try is a Moscow Mule,” he gestures again to the concoction in the cup before him, “But I made it purple.” “Why did you make it purple?” “I wanted something fresh and bright for the beginning of the spring season,” he shrugs, “This is technically called a Galaxy Mule, but I’m renaming it The Indigo Streak because as the butterfly pea flower infused ice melts, you get these little streaks of indigo throughout the drink.” I take a sip of the cocktail and consider it for a moment. “It does taste like a mule, but whatever you added to make it purple adds just a hint of earthiness that compliments the ginger. So, go with that on the menu. Something about a ‘light and bright cocktail to chase those winter blues away with just enough earthiness to keep you grounded as it warms you up.’” Jake jots notes down on a piece of paper that he seemingly pulled out of nowhere and looks up at me  “WAIT! Maybe something about chasing the winter blues away and welcoming brightness back into our days?” “Oh, that’s good. ‘Light floral notes to remind us that the world is waking up?’” “We make an excellent team,” he says, scribbling more notes on his paper. “Indeed we do.”

I finally sit on the couch, tucking my knees underneath me, and grab the remote. I click through Prime and find what I’m looking for: Stardust. I don’t remember when this became my tradition, but it’s been years. Something about the whimsy and romance of it all has made this my go-to movie. If I’m sad, it’ll cheer me up. If I’m happy, it’ll keep those feelings alive. As I press play, I find my thoughts drawn back to Quinn as they often are. Is it too soon to text them? They made it a point to remind me to reach out, but what if I come across as too eager and ruin our vague friendship? What if I say the wrong thing?  I shake my head to dispel those thoughts as I click into their contact in my phone. 

“Quinn (Hobby Lobby)” 

I laugh through my nose and edit their contact to Quinn 🐛, the little worm representing how they’ve already wormed their way into my brain. 

I set my phone to the side and tug a blanket into my lap, trying to refocus on the movie. But, every five or so minutes, my attention is drawn back to my phone. 

I pick it up. I sigh. I put it back down. I sigh. Rinse and repeat. 

“I can feel your nervous energy from here,” Jake hollers, still in the kitchen, “I don’t know what you’re stressing about, but I am begging you to just figure it out.”

I guess I’m being louder than I thought. 

I wring my hands in my lap and pick up my phone again. I click into my messages and pull a new text up, typing Quinn’s name into the “To:” field. 

I type out around fifty variations of “Hi,” all of which I quickly delete. 

Hello, this is Josh - too formal Hi Quinn! - too personal  Hello - bizarre and abrasive

I set my phone down once more so I can wipe the sweat from my hands on the blanket in my lap, then finally settle on a simple but effective: 

Me: Hey there Quinn (Hobby Lobby)

Their response is almost immediate

Quinn 🐛:  Please don’t government name me like that. Me: But you have such a beautiful last name  Quinn 🐛: I know, it’s just too formal for friends to use :) 

I smile at my phone like a madman. 

Me: Oh, how silly of me  Quinn 🐛: Very silly indeed Quinn 🐛: Not to sound weird, but I’ve been waiting for you to text me 

That had my heart pitter-pattering in my chest, threatening to explode out of my ribcage. I wipe my sweaty hands on my blanket again, thinking of something to say.  Me: Well, I do apologize for keeping you waiting  Me: Hopefully it’s a forgivable offense  Quinn 🐛: I think I could look past it 

Before I can even text back, my phone starts ringing with a FaceTime call from Quinn. I quickly scramble back to my room and out of Jake’s earshot before pressing answer. I’m greeted by the sight of them sitting at the desk in a cutoff t-shirt, lettering far too faded for me to read, though it looked like a vintage band tee. Their hair was a bit mussed, likely from running their hands through it, and they were bathed in soft light from the lamp behind them. 

Oh, Quinn, you are radiant. I've never seen someone quite like you, and I'm lucky to see you twice in one day. 

“Hopefully, this isn't too forward of me,” they crack a half smile, “I’m busy with lesson plans right now and didn't want to just leave you on read.” It takes my brain a moment to kick into gear before responding.  “No, this is perfect,” I say softly, “Sorry for waiting so long to text you. I’m sure you want to make plans to retrieve your belongings sooner rather than later.” They pause, looking slightly confused as if planning that hadn't even occurred to them.  “I guess you're right,” they eventually say, “totally understand if that's all you want to talk about.” Now it's my turn to pause; they can't honestly believe I only want to talk “business” with them.  “Quinn, I’d love to talk to you for hours. I just assumed you’d want to make a plan,” I flash a grin, dimples on full display, to ensure they know I’m being honest.  “How about we make a plan, then we bullshit around?” 

“Well, as I said today, I have Sundays off and a truck. So, if you feel ready to see him again, we can start as early as this weekend.” I can't fully decipher the emotion that flits across their face after I finish my spiel. It looks sort of like anguish, but it's not quite there. It’s softer around the edges. It makes me hurt with them.

“I mean, we can wait, too,” I start, attempting to ease whatever emotional distress they're in, “We can wait as long as you need.”  “It’s not that. You just made me realize that Craig never really cared about my comfort level,” They give me a sad smile before continuing, “You're basically a stranger, and you care more about my feelings than my long-term partner did.”  “Do you give your phone number out to many strangers?” I opt for a joke to alleviate the heavy admission that Quinn just made. “Sorry to say, but I do. It’s pretty much my M.O. You’re just one more stranger in a long line of strangers that I unexpectedly FaceTime.” I bark out a loud laugh.  “Well, I am honored that I was your chosen victim tonight.”  “You set yourself up for it, texting me out of the blue like that,” they shrug and go back to writing what I assume is their lesson plan before looking back into the camera, “but, yeah, Sunday sounds good. I can text Craig tonight and tell him we’ll be there in the afternoon?”  “Afternoon sounds good, but I can do any time if you want to knock it out earlier!”  They shake their head a bit and chuckle.  “Josh, you truly are too caring. You’re offering up your day off to help me, and you're still worried about what time works best for me. It's sweet.”  “I’m flabbergasted at this point, dear. If you're comfortable, I need you to explain why you aren't used to people treating your feelings and time like they're valuable. Because they are, and you deserve to know that.” 

And with that, Quinn launches into the whole story of their relationship with Craig. I often interject to ask clarifying questions, but I am mostly content to listen to them speak. From my understanding of their relationship, and my experience with the man himself, Quinn is not used to men making them feel heard, and I am determined to prove to them that they deserve to feel heard and take up space.  We talk for hours. For so long, I have to charge my phone twice. We talk about anything, everything, and nothing all at once. But talking with Quinn is easy. Not that I have difficulties talking to folks usually, but Quinn is exceptionally easy to talk to. Quinn is the type of person you want to spill your guts to without a second thought, so I did. We talk for so long that I eventually hear the apartment door open up, signaling Jake’s return from the bar down below. 

“This may be odd,” I whisper, “But I’m going to be very quiet for a moment. My brother just got off work, and I don’t want him to bother us.” Quinn frantically nods in response and pantomimes zipping their lips and throwing away the key before muting their mic. “Hey, you better be able to find that key later,” I start, but a knock cuts me off.  “Josh, you still up?” Jake’s voice sounds from behind the door. 

I hold one finger up to Quinn and set the phone down, knowing that if I say yes, Jake will come in and tell me about his night. 

“Yeah, I’m up,” I reply with an exaggerated yawn, knowing that if he thinks I’m tired, it’ll cut his talking in half. It’s not that I don’t want to talk to him, but he has always been a night owl, and he has no concept that not everyone else is. Everyone in our immediate friends and family has been “Jaked” at one point or another. He’ll pop into your room or give you a call at around 3 am and talk your head off until he’s ready to go to sleep at 6. It’s charming, but he doesn’t grasp that most people need more rest than he does. 

“I’m coming in,” he warns as he walks through the door. He takes in my appearance: I’m leaning back against the pillows on my headboard, shirt off, a blanket pulled up to my hips, and he cocks an eyebrow. When his eyes land on the phone I have shoved halfway under my pillow, his face breaks out into the broadest shit-eating grin, and he lets out a giggle. “Hey bub,” he lets out a barking laugh, “Did I interrupt your… ahem… alone time?” 

I look around to see how he deduced that from my surroundings, and I do have to admit, I seem a bit suspicious. 

“What? No. Don’t be crude. I was reading,” I point to the reading glasses I keep on my nightstand.  “Where’s your book, then?” “I know you’re basically an ancient time-traveling pirate, but surely even you have heard of an eBook?”  “A likely story, dear Joshua,” he laughs again, taking a moment to sit at the foot of my bed, “I don’t care how you spend your spare time. Just keep those hands away from me until you’ve washed them.” I roll my eyes and contemplate taking my hands and rubbing them across his face to torment him.  “Anyway,” I pointedly changed the subject, “How was your night at the bar?” 

I let him prattle on for about 15 minutes, telling me about Linda’s most recent attempt at picking up Danny. “She pretended to fall off her stool, and when Danny came to her side of the bar to help her up, she said, ‘Don’t mind me, Big Guy. I couldn’t help falling for you.’ I swear the woman has been googling pickup lines. I love her, and I hope she never changes.”  And he told me about how Old Man Chuck said four whole words to him tonight.  “He must like me, talking to me that much.” And telling me about his number one fan, Miss Eleanor  “This woman put back five glasses of Moscato and was still walking in a straight line by the time she left. I swear I’ll put a ring on her finger if I’m still single this time next year.”  I did interject that story with an “Astute choice; after all, that’s probably the only way you’ll get laid anytime soon.” To which Jake flipped me off and told me to “Eat Shit.”

Eventually, I yawn again, and Jake takes this hint. 

“I’ll let you sleep. I have some bookkeeping to do anyway,” Jake says as he stands up, “Love you, bub.”  “Love you too, goodnight.” 

Once he closes the door and I hear the shower start up, I pull my phone back out and smile because Quinn is still on the line.  “Coast is clear, for now,” I say. 

They unmute themself and let out the biggest laugh. 

“Oh, he’s so cute!”  “Hey now,” I place a hand to my heart in mock outrage, “I can get him back in here if you want him to talk your head off for the next 3 hours.” “No, I think I’m fine with the present company. Thank you for the offer, though,” they laugh again, “but no, it’s just sweet. You can tell your brother is passionate about what he does.”

I nod my head because they’re right. This bar is all Jake has ever wanted, and he’s proud of how far he’s gotten. He should be proud. I’m sure as hell proud of him, too. 

“Yeah, he’s fine, I guess,” I start, “Just remember which brother offered you his truck out of the goodness of his heart.” “Oh yeah? Which one was that again? Joseph? Jacques? I can’t remember his name,” They wink, and my heart flutters again.  “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up.” “Oh, I fully intend to, but thank you for your permission.”

I watch the screen as they stretch their arms languidly above their head and yawn. 

“I should probably let you go. I have to be up in,” Quinn checks the nonexistent watch on their wrist, “like three hours. Kids won’t teach themselves, ya know?”  “It’s true. Good night, Quinn. Thanks for wasting time with me tonight.” “Time spent with you is not a waste,” they respond immediately, “But yes, good night, Josh.” 

I hit the end button and drop my phone to my chest before breathing out a sigh and turning my face to quietly screech into my pillow. God, I’m in so deep already. This situation is terrible. It’s okay. I’ll put my feelings aside and be the friend that Quinn needs from me right now. The last thing they need is a random man pining away for them and making their life more difficult. I’m pulled out of my reverie by one sharp knock. I hadn’t even realized Jake was out of the shower yet. 

“By the way, you’re not slick. Tell your buddy Quinn I say hi next time,” Jake snickers through the door.  Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

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[starcunin]

closed starter | @softersinned

The faint murmur of the Elfsong Tavern dies away as the door shuts behind them, leaving only the crackling firelight to dance shadows along the stone walls. The revelry of Baldur’s Gate’s victory hums distantly below, muffled, unimportant. They may be celebrating survival, freedom——but his mind is far beyond the mundane concept of freedom. His thoughts coil and twist like the smoke from the hearth, dark, indulgent, and brimming with purpose. Astarion watches her, his eyes ( brighter now, like pools of liquid rubies ) rake over her with a hunger that has nothing to do with thirst. She is here, in this dim-lit room, exactly where he needs her, and yet not nearly close enough. The corner of his mouth curls into a smirk, his fangs glinting ever so slightly as he crosses the small space between them with a predatory grace.

❛ I’ve been thinking, darling. ❜ His voice is silk, smooth and laced with a seduction that feels heavier, more dangerous than it used to. No longer the flirtatious charm of the rogue she met——now there’s an edge to it, sharper, more possessive. A man who knows the power he holds and savors it. He stops just inches from her, his breath unnervingly steady as his eyes devour every inch of her face, her form, the pulse he can still hear faintly beneath her skin. Still mortal. For now. ❛ Tonight, they sing songs of us, ❜ he murmurs, voice low, his eyes locking onto hers, drinking in the way the firelight dances in her gaze. ❛ Heroes, they call us. Saviors of Baldur’s Gate. ❜ His lips twitch as if the words themselves amuse him. ❛ But you and I both know that it’s not them who are important, is it? Not these pathetic, fleeting little lives. ❜ He steps closer, his fingers trailing the length of her arm, cool and deliberate. ❛ It’s us. You and me, my pet. ❜

His hand drifts up, fingers lightly brushing beneath her chin, tilting her head ever so slightly to meet his gaze fully, to ensure she can see the intent ( the darkness ) swirling within his eyes. ❛ I couldn’t have done this without you. You know that, don’t you? ❜ His voice drops, quieter now, more intimate. He circles her slowly, letting his presence linger close, like a shadow, like a predator stalking its prey. But there is no rush. No need for haste now. ❛ And look at me now. ❜ His voice is thick with a mixture of triumph and something deeper, darker. ❛ I’ve shattered the chains that bound me. I’ve taken everything from him——and more. I am... unstoppable. ❜ The word rolls off his tongue with the satisfaction of someone tasting the finest wine. He pauses behind her, leaning in, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear, his voice a dark whisper. ❛ And it’s all thanks to you. ❜

There’s a softness, almost affection, in the way he says it. But the underlying truth is there: he owns her now. In his mind, it was always inevitable. And now, he wants to make it permanent. He steps back in front of her, eyes alight with a greedy, possessive gleam. He places a hand gently on her shoulder, fingers curling ever so slightly as if testing her, feeling the warmth of her flesh beneath his touch. ❛ You’ve given me so much, darling. And I’ve been thinking about how I might... repay you. ❜ His lips curl into a smile that is far too pleased, far too dark.

❛ Mortality... it’s such a fragile, fleeting thing, isn’t it? ❜ He lifts his other hand, cradling her face now, his thumb brushing her cheek in a gesture that might almost be tender——if not for the coldness behind his touch. ❛ And I’ve been watching you, my dear. How you cling to it, this life. How you struggle, even as everything you once believed in crumbles around you. The Raven Queen? Your faith? She’s abandoned you… when you needed her most." His gaze sharpens, fingers sliding down to trace the line of her neck, feeling the pulse beneath her skin. ❛ But I haven’t abandoned you. ❜ His voice drops to a near growl, dark and possessive, as his thumb rests against her throat, lingering just above where her pulse beats. ❛ I never will. ❜ He steps even closer now, his lips barely inches from hers, his breath cold against her skin.

❛ I want to offer you a gift, my love. ❜ His eyes are ablaze with a fierce, predatory intensity. ❛ A gift of immortality. Power. ❜ He leans in, his lips ghosting over the side of her neck, where he knows her blood flows, rich and tempting. ❛ I want to make you mine. Completely. Forever. ❜ His fangs graze lightly over her skin, a dangerous tease, a promise of what’s to come. ❛ I’ll turn you, darling. You’ll become my most cherished spawn, my consort, my companion for all eternity. ❜ He pulls back slowly, his eyes burning into hers. ❛ No more fear. No more pain. You will be free. Free to be by my side, where you belong. Where you’ve always belonged. ❜

His voice softens, the tone almost coaxing now, as if he’s speaking to something precious, something delicate. ❛ Think of it... The two of us, ruling this world together. I as the predator, and you... ❜ He leans in again, his lips brushing against hers for the barest second before pulling back, his voice a hushed, seductive whisper. ❛ My favorite. My beloved. ❜ Astarion straightens, his smile widening, the hunger in his eyes almost palpable. ❛ This is my gift to you, darling. Eternal life. ❜ He watches her with a twisted sense of anticipation, as though already picturing her reborn in his image, forever bound to him. ❛ All you have to do is say yes. ❜

[allzelemonz]

Drown: Micah Bell X Male Reader

Pronouns: he/him, Reader is referred to as ‘boy’ and ‘fella’ Physical Sex: None Mentioned Rating: T/Language Warnings: Micah Bell is his own warning, Guarma is its own warning, Micah loves his guns, shipwreck Summary: With the ship going down, the gang is forced into the sea and split up. As you drift, you find somethings Micah holds very dear.

The storm certainly took you all by surprise. Now the waves are hitting hard and all you can do is try to keep your head above water. You can’t see the others, there’s no telling where they are. You can faintly hear Javier in the distance, but it’s too faint to place. You find a piece of wood and cling to it as tight as you can as the waves carry you off. The rain pours down and you try to keep the drops out of your eyes. It’s a long time before things settle. Your arms and legs burn from keeping yourself above the rough waves.

In the distance you can see a few pieces of floating wood, there’s something glistentin in the sun on top of them. The waves push you towards it and you can make out the shining object. It’s a gun, slipping from its holster. You kick in the water, propelling yourself and your own floating debris forward until you can reach out and grab it. The leather feels weird in your water soaked hands.

It’s Micah’s gunbelt, only one of the guns to be found. You look back over at the wood you took it from and see the twin gun sitting in a small crevice. You grab it too and push it safely into the holster. They may come in handy. You fasten the belt across your chest so the guns have a chance to dry off a little. Further past the wood you can see an island, the waves already pushing you towards it. You cling to the wood again and let the waves take you towards the shore.

The beach is rough and the sand gets everywhere as you crawl up to dry land. You roll on your back and try to breathe, your arms and legs settling into a steady burn of exhaustion. The weight of the guns feels a little comforting as you lay in the sun. Your hands dry, the little wrinkles disappearing and you make yourself get up. Your legs wobble as you walk, but you manage. There are faint outlines of footprints in the sand so you take the precaution of walking carefully and quietly. A ways down the beach you hear faint voices, they sound like they’re bickering.

“I ain’t movin’!” That one has to be Bill, it’s too grouchy to be anyone else.

“You’ve been in the shade all day!” That’s Javier. “Move!”

As you get closer they come into view. You watch Javier kick up sand at Bill and Bill returns the action. Leaning back against a rock, face sunburned, is Micah. Dutch and Arthur are nowhere to be found. They’ll turn up, they have to.

“You two been arguing this whole time?” You ask, your throat raspy from a lack of water.

“Well, shit!” Bill laughs.

“Hey! He’s alive!” Javier turns from Bill, pausing their feud.

Micah opens his eyes, first going to your face but quickly dropping to what you have strapped across your chest. He gets up quickly and you unfasten the belt, holding it out for him. Everyone knows how much he cares about his guns. Micah takes the belt, holding it for a moment before taking each gun out and admiring it. By the time he looks at you, Bill and Javier have gone back to bickering.

Micah’s sunburn looks much worse close up. His face is stained red and there’s some light blistering around his hairline. There’s sand in his hair and it looks dry from the salt water. He has his shirt opened to alleviate the heat. Being shipwrecked in formal wear is one of the worst options as far as attire goes. Micah’s eyes look over you as he thinks. You brought him one of the only things he cares about in the world. He doesn’t know why or how, if you risked your life to get them or if they just happened to be on the way, but you brought them to him.

“I’ll get ya some water.” He mumbles, not meeting your eyes.

You attempt to say a thanks, but your mouth is so dry. You pull your dress coat from your shoulders. It felt nice when it was cold and wet, but now it’s just warm and musty. It drops to the sand and you feel a little better as some wind hits you. Micah hands you a container of water and you drink it quickly, letting the last bit of it sit in your mouth for a moment. A sigh escapes you when you’re done, the feeling of having saliva in your mouth was not one you thought you’d ever find yourself missing.

“No sign of Dutch or Arthur?” You ask.

Micah shakes his head.

“Shit.” You mutter.

You walk past Micah and sit in some shade that’s stripped by the leaves of the trees above at the edge of the little camp. You fall asleep without trying to, the exhaustion taking over. Bill and Javier both settle down as the sun beats harder in what must be the afternoon sun, they blink in and out of sleep. Micah, hardly one to close his eyes, cleans his guns as best he can without oil and tools. His eyes linger to your sleeping form on occasion. At first he tells himself that he’s just looking because you’re the man that happened to find his guns and think to bring them back, but as he looks on his heart picks up at little things. The tosses and turns as you try to sleep, the rise and fall of your chest.

“Arthur!” A voice calls, waking you up. “Bill?”

All of you rise to your feet as the familiarity sets in. That’s Dutch’s voice.

“Dutch!” Bill yells.

The infamous leader comes out from behind a tree, a smile on his face. “Oh, boys! I am very glad to see you.”

Javier gets him water and he drinks it quickly, sighing when he’s done.

“You know what happened to the money, Dutch?” Bill asks.

Dutch shakes his head. “Bottom of the sea, it seems. You fellas seen Arthur?”

“He hasn’t turned up yet.” Javier says.

“Well.” Dutch sighs, walking past you all to sit in Bill’s old spot of shade. “If he’s not here by morning, we’ll go looking.”

Most everyone goes to sleep as the sun sets, the cold air making it much easier to stay under the comfort of slumber. Micah looks over his guns, his gaze straying to you again. This time you’re awake. You’re rubbing a stick against a rock, sharpening it to a point. He watches the way your arms move, your face fixed in concentration. He nearly chokes on his own spit when you whip sweat from your brow. He stands, holstering his gun, and retreats a few feet into the trees. As he leans against one of the trees he tries to force you out of his head. You never react the way he wants when he messes with you. He’s tried to find something that gets under your skin, but there’s nothing bad about you to target. It’s only now that he realizes that is partially due to attraction. What he may usually mock about others, he finds desirable in you. A realization only brought on by your care for his precious guns.

[siriusblack-the-third]

Boredom, Flustration and Love Confessions part 4

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

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They make it back to the castle just before dinner with wide smiles and intertwined hands, several bags hanging from the crooks of their elbows, filled with books, chocolates, a few pieces of jewellery and a couple of scarves and gloves.

When they stop in front of the doors to the Entrance Hall, James pulls Sirius to a stop and turns him so they're facing each other, then gives him a small, pleased smile.

"I had fun today," he says quietly.

Sirius beams back, wraps his arm around James' shoulders, and tugs him closer to brush a lingering kiss on his temple. The paper bags crunch and crumple, but James doesn't care; he melts into the touch with a silent sigh. The gesture is just so... soft. It makes him warm from the inside, and the smile on his lips grows wider even as he feels his cheeks grow red.

"I had fun too," Sirius murmurs against his forehead, then places another small kiss there before pulling back. His cheeks are dusted pale pink, his grey eyes are shining in the light of the moon, and his gloss-slick lips are pulled into a soft smile. James does not ever want to look away.

"So..." James trails away and rocks on the balls of his feet, feeling suddenly nervous. He is not a Gryffindor for nothing, though, so he looks up at Sirius, a weird mix of anticipation, anxiety and hope carving a large hole in his chest. "We, uh- we can do this again, if you'd- if you'd like?"

Sirius blinks at him, and while nobody else would know what he is thinking, James can immediately tell that he is shocked. It's there in the slow, deliberate way his eyelids drop down and lift up again, in the slight parting of his lips, in the way his left thumb twitches towards the belt loop of his ripped jeans. James swallows, trying not to quail under the sudden intensity of Sirius' gaze as it pins him in place. He can't tell what Sirius is thinking, and that just makes this more nerve wracking.

"I- I mean," he stammers, ducking his head so a black curl falls into his eyes, "only if- only if you'd like, of course. You don't- you don't have to, obviously. It was fun- it really was, and I'd love if you went, like, on a date with- with me, but if you don't wan— mmf!"

Sirius' lips are soft.

He moves them over James' mouth slowly, gently, and the younger boy relaxes into the kiss, eyes fluttering shut on their own accord when Sirius brushes the curl out of his face and tucks it behind his ear. It's just a light caress of lips against each other, but James feels warmth and comfort seep into the very marrow his bones. He immediately wants to have more, and it seems like Sirius is on the same page; their shopping bags cascade to the floor with a deafening crash, and James fists a hand in the front of Sirius' shirt to tug him closer. An arm wraps itself around his waist and suddenly he is being held against a firm chest, a hand pressing into the back of his head. Sirius winds the singular long fringe at the back of his head around his index finger and tugs on it, lightly at first, then insistently, to tilt James' head back so he can deepen the kiss.

James throws his arms over Sirius' shoulders and parts his lips, and Sirius grabs the opportunity to slip his tongue into his mouth and- oh.

James shudders at the first swipe of Sirius' piercing over the inside of his bottom lip, a soft whimper catching in the back of his throat. The metal ball slides across his tongue, and all he can do is grip onto Sirius for dear life as the other boy devours his mouth with such an intensity that James' knees almost buckle. His head is spinning, but the only thing he can think of is Sirius.

His plump lips, the tart blueberry flavour of his gloss, the faint mint and earth smell that clings to him, the heat of his arms, the drag of that damn piercing over the sensitive roof of his mouth—

They break apart with twin gasps when it gets hard to breathe.

James wants to pull Sirius back in. He wants to tug on his hair and moan his name, wants to continue the kiss till he suffocates. He wants to keep the image of Sirius like this— lips red, flushed cheeks and heaving chest, grey eyes practically glowing in the moonlight, mussed long black hair a stark contrast against his porcelain skin— pasted to the back of his eyelids so he may never forget it.

"Fuck," he says, and his voice comes out breathy and high pitched, but he cannot find it in himself to be anything other than completely dazed. "Fuck, that- that was—"

"Ouais," Sirius whispers, voice wonderfully hoarse, and leans forward to press his forehead against James'. Their eyes fall shut, and both of them breathe in tandem, revelling in just holding each other close. "Ouais, je– I know. Me too."

James smiles, and it's a wide, face-splitting expression. His heart thuds loudly and contentedly in his ribcage, and he sighs happily, nuzzling his face into Sirius' jaw and placing a light, fluttering kiss on the edge of it. He gets another tender forehead kiss in return, where he can feel the smile on Sirius' lips imprinting itself into his skin.

"My absurd darling," he says to James, "why wouldn't I want to go on a date with you?"

James turns his head into Sirius' neck to hide his smile and whispers, "so that's a yes, then?"

Sirius buries a chuckle in his hair.

"Yeah, Jamie-beau," he whispers back, like it's their own little secret. "Yeah, I'll go on another date with you."

James lets out a delighted giggle and surges up to claim Sirius' lips for a lightning quick kiss. Then he blinks, and pulls back to frown at Sirius in confusion. "Wait. Another? What do you mean, another?"

Sirius blinks back, just as confused, but then a spark of amusement enters his eyes. He grins and tightens his arms around James' waist.

"Jamie, sweetheart," he says in that fondly exasperated way he saves only for James, and James feels his stomach squirm at the way Sirius' tongue curls around the term of endearment. "today was a date. We went on a date to Hogsmeade, ma biche."

James pulls back, eyes wide.

"What?" he gasps. "No, it wa— oh fuck, it was, wasn't it?"

James groans and buries his head in Sirius' shoulder, an embarrassed flush climbing up his cheeks, and lightly slaps Sirius' back when he feels him shaking with suppressed mirth.

"Be quiet, you," he mutters petulantly, but his own mouth is tugging into a smile.

Sirius bursts out laughing.

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The moment they walk into the Gryffindor common room, laden down with shopping bags but with pleased smiles on their faces and their fingers clenched tightly in each other's, Lily and Remus shoot up in their seats with victorious screams.

"FUCKING FINALLY," they yell in synchronisation, and James turns his face into Sirius' shoulder to hide his laugh. A deafening wolf whistle pierces through the air, and they turn to look at Marlene, who is lounging in a chaise near the fireplace.

"GET IN, CAPTAIN," she crows, and the rest of the Quidditch team breaks into jeers and applause. James beams at them, a rosy flush colouring his bronze cheeks.

Sirius grins and curls an arm around his waist, then drags him to the stairs and up to the dormitory.

"Show my boy a good time, Black," Lily yells after them to the background noise of hooting and hollering from the rest of the students, and James makes a soft sound that is equal parts amusement and embarrassment, but then Sirius is leaning over his shoulder and running his nose lightly over his jaw.

"Oh, I intend to," he breathes, right next to James' ear, and James can't help the shudder that wracks his body.

"You do, do you?" he murmurs back as he pushes open the dormitory door. Sirius hums, and dumps the bags on the bed.

The second the door swings shut he pounces, pressing James up against the wood and licking into his mouth with a fervour that pulls a loud, startled moan from him. Cold hands slip under his sweater and shirt to grip tightly at his waist, and he buries his own fingers into Sirius' long hair, tugging on it and biting down on Sirius' bottom lip.

Sirius moans. The sound goes directly to James' lower belly, and he presses himself into Sirius, rubbing his tongue along the back of Sirius' teeth in a demand for more. Sirius obliges. His hands slide down James' sides and dig into the meat of his thighs through his jeans, and James lets out a muffled groan, lifting one leg up to wrap around Sirius and pulling him closer.

Sirius takes advantage and grabs the back of James' knees and hoists him up, immediately latching his mouth onto his jawline. James grips his hips with his thighs and presses their bodies together, gasping at the sudden sparks of pleasure that skitter along his skin.

"Sirius," he whimpers, and a low, pleased hum vibrates against his pulse point, making him shudder and grip the silky hair even tighter. Sirius' hands burn a white hot trail into his skin through the denim as they drag up from his thighs to grip his arse, and he lets out a whine, grinding down into the touch and throwing his head back at the friction to let out a long moan.

"Don't you worry, mon amour," Sirius murmurs hungrily as he trails kisses and nips down James' throat, tracing the dips and ridges of his collarbones with that damn piercing to pull another whimper from James. "I'll show you a good time."

James pulls his head back by the hair and gasps, "and if I want a good life?"

Sirius blinks, then beams, pressing his lips to James' hard enough that his head knocks back into the door. Both of them burst into quiet giggles, leaning their foreheads against each other and gently nuzzling into each other's faces. Sirius kisses him again, slow, deliberate, toe-curling and filled with promise, making him sigh and melt.

"Then I'll show you a good life."

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Tag list:

@prongsfoot-wolfstar @narcissa-black-supermacy @padfootastic @in-flvx @ad1thi @siriuslystarbucks @fiendishfyre @ghostie-06 @xxmysticrose18 @gracelesslady23

[echoingkarma]

Just A Normal Coffee Shop AU - Summary of Plot

This is a bit overdue but I did promise we'd write it when we had time, and I have a tiny bit now, so here goes. CW for discussions of death / murder, and faint disreality. Remember, the source of this is FNAF, so CWs for that apply.

The idea for this AU came from a desire to throw together characters I loved but who would never meet, and also to put them within a common AU idea. I went with a coffee shop because it was the first I thought of, whilst also thinking a lot about how as an employee there, you can do little but stand behind the counter and smile. Day in, day out.

That had its own sort of horror element to it. I wanted to pursue that idea; you're trapped behind that counter for your shift. If a 7-8ft tall animatronic comes in and asks you if you know Michael Afton, with your coworker hiding behind the counter clinging to your ankle for dear life and shaking, you can't just turn on your heel or tell him to get out. Not without provoking something, whether it be an adverse reaction or his suspicions.

So you smile and you tell him no you don't. Its not your business to give out to customers. They don't need to know who works here or not, what time their shifts are at, any of that sensitive information.

After that, Vanessa comes in and sits with Sun, and they have a hushed conversation as Michael sneaks off to the back room and you continue the rest of the shift. Sun downs a coffee and finds it amusing when you seem startled, and Vanessa asks him to pay attention, and his only real response is to hushedly murmur about how they already know Michael is there so they have nothing to worry about.

As some people suspected, Sun is a wildcard. Vanessa plays the bad cop, and Moon is good cop. This is just naturally how their personalities worked out, and they play up to their roles.

Sun visits again the next day, and Mike is nowhere to be seen. You and Charlotte Emily are left to work behind the counter for a while, a faint amiable chatter all that settles your nerves as you wait for something to happen.

Henry Emily comes out just as Vanessa enters, and he tells them to leave and never return, they're not welcome here. Vanessa is angry with him, and says he was also part of it all, and if he lets this go now... and then she goes quiet, because they have an audience and she doesn't particularly want to talk about child murder in front of them all.

On the way home you pass torn posters - one reads 'Afton Animatronics. One in every home'. On the poster is a little girl with pigtails, showing how the robots are now advertised for childcare after the Pizzaplex burned down a few years ago (the first and only Fazbear establishment in this AU. A lot smaller than the one in Security Breach, although it still boasts a few attractions and its own Daycare). Still, a very faded poster nearby reveals the old star, Freddy Fazbear himself, smiling away in his tophat and bowtie.

You feel a sense of unease at the name and walk on until you bump into Moon, who kneels down and shows you a photo, asking if you really don't recognise anyone in the picture. You find it hard to not linger on the image, but Mike Schmidt hasn't changed - he looks less tired now, a little happier, a little less dead in the eyes and his mullet is a bit longer. Overall, though, the boy in the picture looks exactly like your coworker.

The other two kids are familiar too, somehow. The boy with short brown hair and, even in the photo, a light in his eyes, and a little girl with two pigtails and a big smile.

When Moon sees you looking, he tucks it away in his pocket and asks if you really don't recognise any of them, and you feel like you've stared for too long, so you have to say something. He tilts his head at you when your only response is that you recognise the girl, although you don't know from where, and he hums and stands, offering you a business card for Afton Animatronics. The number is scrawled out and a new one is written in its place.

You tuck it into your pocket and thank him with a hoarse voice, and he turns and walks away. Suddenly, you're taking the long way around to your apartment, something niggling in your mind about being followed, about not being safe. You close the door behind you with a whoosh of air and an audible click, sinking down against it.

Your breathing hasn't yet calmed when your phone rings, and you lift it and look at the caller ID, huffing out a sigh when you see it's Henry. You answer, and he's as warm as you as ever, asking if you got home safe and if you'd come in tomorrow for a talk. You reassure him, but your hands haven't stopped shaking when you hang up and head to bed, throwing your bag and phone down beside it and immediately closing your eyes.

The meeting is about personal safety. Henry asks if you want him to come get you for work and leave you back again when your shift is over, but you turn the offer down. Mike is there, and he offers you a tired smile, both grateful and concerned.

You start to choke a little. You'd always kept people a bit distant, but the people here were treating you like they treated each other; a tight knit family, a trusted group, someone they could turn to and who could turn to them too, if you ever needed to. Mike puts a gentle hand on your arm when he notices you shaking, and Charlotte curses out Moon, who she'd seen stop you yesterday on her way home.

And for the first time, you sit there and decide you'll really and truly try to help. More than just saying you don't know, you're not sure - you're going to defend this little family of yours as best you can, rather than running away and avoiding people, leaving no roots to pull when the time came.

This resolution stays strong for about a week. You don't see Sun, Moon or Vanessa anywhere in this time, until suddenly you're pulled into a little alleyway between two stores on your way home and you have to swallow down a scream as you look up at the three faces together.

Vanessa looks furious and at her wit's end as she lectures you, telling you what's happened so far; there are children dying, and they need Henry to listen, they need Michael home because he's the only person who could ever have enough information to stop it.

The word sours in your mind. Home. Something about it prickles and simmers and sets off a spark. You faintly remember something, two little kids calling after you, and a third standing off at the other end of the room, watching with a warm smile and dark brown eyes.

And then it's gone and you're just back in some damp alleyway with three tall figures hovering over you, and you start to choke up, and you say you have nothing to do with this but they need to leave people alone who want to be left alone.

Sun regards you with a proud smile, although it twists a little with some sort of desperation at the edges, whereas Moon merely tips his head forward and lets his hat fall over his eyes, watching on keenly whilst occassionally looking out over the street.

Vanessa keeps trying to pressure you, and after a bit your phone rings and you flinch. When you go to answer it, Moon mumbles about it being time to go, and the three slink off and leave you with your heart in your throat as you answer the call, unable to find the time to hide the shake in your voice.

You're bundled into Henry's car within 10 minutes, and he takes you to your apartment to pack up anything you need, and then takes you back with him to stay in a spare room in his house. You realise both Charlotte and Mike live here when they join you for dinner and Charlotte makes a joke about this being the Daydream Coffee house now.

The coffee is closed for a holiday after you inform them of what happened. Henry chides you for not telling him the first time Moon stopped you, and then he sighs and flicks the business card between his fingers, considering something. He rubs at his temples before picking up his phone, and the room goes silent as you hear the faintest edge of the ringback tone.

Henry talks to Vanessa in a gruff voice, not warm but not harsh either. He asks her what's going on, and his eyes widen when she answers, before his face darkens completely. After a very brief conversation, he glances around at the three of you still sitting at the table patiently, each wearing your own look of concern, and he hangs up and puts his phone down.

With his hands carefully folded in front of him, Henry tells you all what's happening; Vanessa thinks William (Henry glances at Mike when he says the name, and the latter pales but sits steady as he listens) is using his animatronics to kidnap children. She doesn't know why he's doing it, but she took the Daycare Attendants when the Pizzaplex burned down and acted like she was going to help him before running as far as she could with them to find help.

The information you all learn over the next few days isn't any more pleasant; whilst working for Afton, Vanessa felt nearly brainwashed. The Daycare Attendants speak of a similar symptom, although their own problem can be tied into something in their code. Still, the three of them say the feeling dissipated the moment the Pizzaplex burned to the ground.

Vanessa also describes being invited to the basement one day. There was something down there, some documents about testing. She talks about the way the animatronics reacted, as though they were alive and sentient. Beside each of their names in the files, there was something else...

Freddy had Gregory, Roxy had Cassie, Chica had Elizabeth, and Monty had Evan. There were other plans for more animatronics, and random names listed beside them. In the next room over, she could hear machines whirring and ticking. She remembers seeing a small hand, and then her vision went purple and she was back upstairs, unaware of what had happened at all.

Mike, beside you, looks like he's going to be sick. The names pry at your own brain too, and he looks over and suddenly there are tears in his eyes, and for some reason its you he wraps his arms around and holds as he starts to cry, shaking with the force of it. You hesitantly put your own arms back around him and pat his back, and something purple flickers at the edge of your vision.

Sun and Moon both watch as your memory crashes back down on you. The tears start flowing before you even realise what's happening, before the images stop playing through your mind, something about Mike tearing down a forceful purple wall and revealing what had been hidden behind it for years.

You're a child standing in a living room. Two little kids stand before you and laugh, showing off some toys their father had made them a few days before. At the other side of the room, Michael Afton beams and crosses his arms, watching on with a relentless fondness. You feel yourself smiling back.

And then your smile fades with a harsh crunch. You hadn't seen much, and you're so grateful for it. Michael, however, had seen everything in that moment. He was standing right there when the animatronic locked onto Elizabeth, and he immediately went to grab Evan away before the same could happen to him.

Unfortunately, he didn't quite make it in time. The 'malfunctioning' machines locked onto the children and you remember the harsh cacophany before a sharp, stinging silence. You remember covering your mouth and hiding, brain sparking with static and a ringing in your ears. You remember Michael falling to his knees on the ground. You remember being told time and time again that the basement was out of bounds and no one was to go in there unsupervised.

But, then again. Elizabeth had always been interested in the animatronics, and Michael only wanted to do something nice. Your ears pick up on his sobbing again now, back in the present, but your mind stays in the past, where the boy knelt silent as death itself until footsteps descended the stairs, and you peeked out around the corner and saw William Afton come to a harsh stop as he took in the sight, eyes slowly widening.

There would be no way to explain something like this. As an adult, you would have wondered why the door wasn't locked and why none of you were being supervised anyway. You would have wondered about where he'd suspected you'd gone; you were staying the night again, as you did most days. You wouldn't be far away from the scene, you wouldn't have left Michael alone with the younger kids. With your younger siblings, perhaps not by blood but by a bond of familiarity and comfort, by many evenings shared together when it was the only place in the world you felt safe.

That night the feeling would disappear forever. You don't remember what William said, but you do see the edges of his smile lifting now in your mind. The same man who would pat you on the head, watching as the endoskeletons creaked to life, purple flowing in their tubes as they readjusted to stand straight, warm bodies slowly growing cold as they fall to the floor and leave behind only metal and unmoving faces you could still somehow feel the fear from.

Chica, Elizabeth. Evan, Monty. Your throat is on fire. A tiny hand, unmoving and still. Were the two the first, or merely a step in the experiments Afton performed, trying to perfect his craft? You remember playing with Charlotte too, the little doll she had. Everything always matched so perfectly, Afton would always say. It was designed just for her, after all.

You half wonder if you would have been left wearing a metal shell, had William peered around the corners of his basement that day and found you. You wonder if he'd have dragged you back there screaming and kicking to keep you silent.

You weren't there for the funeral. You'd left town by then, after becoming disturbingly quiet and unresponsive, and things seemed to fade away the further you got from it all, until one day you woke up and you couldn't remember any of it at all.

Now, it hits you like a ton of bricks. Like an endoskeleton tightening its harsh metal jaws around your skin, your flesh, and clamping down until bone and all gave way. You're left reeling and dizzy, and look around the table, and Henry seems to know just what has happened, and he curses under his breath and suddenly your breathing is too loud and you know you're going to be sick.

The evening is spent recovering as people talk in hushed voices between other rooms of the house. You tuck up on the sofa, a cold hand on your forehead - after your memories, its weird that you feel safe under Sun and Moon's watchful eyes, the two taking turns to comfort you and Michael. They must have been good at their jobs when they were in the Daycare.

Time passes quickly, and its another few days before anyone really feels up to making much of a plan. Its a shoddy one even when it does form; exposing Afton with nothing less than complete proof wouldn't work. He was used to covering up scandals, and would do anything to protect his company.

However, Mike had been raised on it all. He knew secrets no one else ever would; even moreso than Henry, who'd been a cofounder at the time before he found out what was happening and took quite a large sum of money off with him and opened a café instead, intent to live out the rest of his days in some sort of quiet repentence, protecting anyone who survived the Afton family.

Sun and Moon are incredibly helpful too. They know their way around the animatronics and have all the leftover code from the Daycare. This also means they have some of the first trial code on capturing children to use, which is something admitted very reluctantly as Moon admits he doesn't at all remember if he ever actually helped.

They also know where the main stars are being kept, and think it would be a good start to break them out and get their assistance, especially as they may be able to locate a lot more proof. Mike frets over this; do they think they'd remember..? Sun shifts in his seat, his permanent smile cast in shadow as he looks down, and Moon artificially clears his throat and says there's a reason they knew so much about him.

Everyone is assigned roles, and you all work together tirelessly - one day you see Sun pat the coffee machines sympathetically and break out in a small smile - until things are in place. And then you're all bundled up between two cars and you're on the move.

Everyone tries their best to make the roadtrip less terrifying than it is; Charlotte takes photos of everything, Mike insists on trying a new drink at every rest stop, and Sun and Moon find new ways to sit constantly to try their best to fit into the car. Vanessa and Henry are the two drivers, and whilst Vanessa takes her job incredibly seriously with a white knuckle grip, you can see Henry trying to join in on the lighthearteded activities, although you often catch him with pinched brows and a distant look.

It gets quieter and quieter as you get closer, and once you pull into the city everyone falls silent. Memories lit up purple scratch at your skull, and when you look around everyone seems to have a similar headache (including Sun and Moon, who occassionally spit out a string of static or have to step away to release a high-pitched beeping sound and pre-programmed lines about cleaning the Daycare and washing our hands before we eat).

But you all survive, and you make it there and before you know it you're all about to break in to the latest small venue he's opened, where parents can bring their kids to pick out an animatronic for their home.

Things are going smoothly until you see William Afton himself, smiling and laughing and looking down at a child the same way he used to look at you, and this time you notice the edges to his expression, the sharpness to his smile and the way he looks at them like one would a prized obsession.

You know you need to get that kid out of there, but aren't sure how until you see one of their parents approach and then walk off in your direction. When they return with a tray of drinks, you decide it's now or never, and bump straight into them, sending everything clattering down the front of their shirt.

Apologies are stuttered out and you can see the fight to maintain their patience even as their grab their kid and promise to return another day, they need to get home and get changed now. You apologise again as they leave, and almost breathe a sigh of relief when you hear someone clear their throat behind you.

You turn and look directly up at William Afton, and your breath seems to leave your lungs all at once. There's a sweetness like grape candy on your tongue when you inhale, a sensation that begs your mind to just let go, to forget again, to be happy here with the Afton family.

Trying to shake it off and praying he doesn't recognise you, you mirror his smile and say you're here to pick out an animatronic. Something ticks away in his vision, but William puts a hand on your upper back and leads you to look at the latest models, asking if you had any preferences and if you had kids or it was just going to do the housework.

Its not easy to lie when you're still struggling to breathe, the sweet taste of the air catching in your dry mouth, determined to make its way into your lungs and settle there, to make itself at home once again. Purple flickers through your mind and you fight it back with all your might until your phone buzzes and you ask if you can go take the call for a moment. You make your way outside as though calm, talking cheerfully, but the moment you're out you book it straight over to Sun and Moon in the car, gasping for air.

Everyone is out. They've found enough - nothing is described to you, but you're sure it will be compelling. Henry wouldn't do anything that would fail.

After this point, the story would definitely diverge off into exposing Afton and watching as things crashed down around him. Y/N and Mike would get to meet Elizabeth and Evan again, although they're possessing the animatronics and will be freed in the process, allowing them to finally be at peace. They tell Mike they don't blame him at all, even after having all this time to think. Everything had been planned out by their father, anyway.

You continue to have a family in Henry, Charlotte, and Michael. It grows quickly - Sun and Moon are just animatronics, they're not possessed, and so they remain as they are. Vanessa moves in a bit away again, and Henry asks if she's finally ready to live her own life, and you see the relief flood her features as she finally relaxes. You later learn of how she's been working for William since she was a young teenager as Michael's replacement once he'd managed to gather enough to move away, with Henry's help.

Another series of cafés are opened, and Sun and Moon are your new coworkers - Daydream Café remains animatronic free to keep jobs available for humans who still want to work, but the location you're transferred over to (and end up opening, blushing furiously as you cut the ribbon and listen to cheers ring out) isn't, allowing the two to work alongside you. They learn very quickly and the lot of you become close as well.

You treat Mike and Charlotte as siblings, and Henry welcomes you to take on his surname if you want. Essentially, everyone just finally gets to live. Mike opens up an animatronic company soon after because people were starting to rely on them, and you watch as his outgrows anything William could have ever made with an overwhelming sense of pride.

And then the next day, you get to go make coffee with your two favourite animatronics again, and again, and again.

[prettylilbug2]

A Rainy walk

GN reader

No warnings, just a nice rainy day

It was a rainy day. You ran through the woods wildly feeling the fresh cool drops, feeling it drench your hair and trickle down your face. Mud was caked to the bottom of your pants, you reach out and lift your arms to the sky like a graceful bird, a free bird. Your fingers skim the rough bark of the trees, the low hanging flowers caressing your head.

After a while of running, you found a beautiful willow tree. The rain drops gathered and dripped of it like fresh fallen tears, "Do not cry Mr.willow, I will admire your beauty." You whisper while putting your forehead against the trunk. "You are beauty itself, you have such a tragic but graceful form, I hope for you to live a long and plentiful life." You breathe out.

You hike up your pants as you walk down a muddy path back to your little den. You then hear the squish of mud and a faint galloping sound, you turn to see the Prince, Carden. He sneered at you, looking at your disheveled hair, to the mud clinging on to the cuffs of your pants. You look him in the eye, and did a boyish wobbly bow, "Hello, Carden quite the rainy day today!" He held your gaze and drawled "Why are you running in the rain, you are all dirty." You look down at your clothes, then your dirty boots, then you went to touch your hair which has a bit of petals in it from the trees. "You are quite right My dear Prince, but I was just on my way back to my den to freshen up." Like a drunk Fae, his face turns a light pink at the mere sound of the name "My Dear Prince".

You turn your back to him and put your hand over your head, you wave and say "Well, I hope you have a splendid evening, make sure you don't get sick!" You dig your hands in your pockets and start to sway with a little hum as you continue on your path. Your humming was interrupted by the faint galloping of hooves once again, you turn on your heel, and in an instant you feel your foot slip on the mud, you brace yourself for a full face of wet earth. But the feeling didn't come, instead you feel a warm hand grab your upper arm. Your feet lift off the ground and onto a horse, you could feel Cardens breath on your neck. "Well?! what do you say!" You turn to face him half way while covering the place on your chest where your pulse is. "Thank you, Carden." His gold rimmed eyes pierced your soul, he then adjusted you, you are in front of him. "You said you were going to your den, correct?" "Yes, yes I am." At hearing those words, he grabs your hands and places them on the reins "Well then what are you waiting for?" He slithers a hand against your waist, you then hear him clear his throat and mutter "You know...to keep you steady." You could feel his body heat against your exposed neck. You giggle at his words while patting his thigh. He put his head on your shoulder at that gesture. His skin was burning hot, "let's just get to your den and quick, before I decide to push you off my horse." He mumbles.

[deprivedreality]

𝗨𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗡𝗗𝗘𝗗 𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗣 ; 𝗔𝗠𝗕𝗘𝗥 𝗘𝗬𝗘𝗦 chp two

Jake knew best not to run towards where his family were, that was his best way of protecting them from a potential threat. He could feel himself clinging onto dear life, hoping that one vengeful little na'vi girl wouldn't murder him just as easily as he thought.

He's had enough experience and he wasn't the least bit enlightened at what trouble he had dragged himself into.

"Please, I mean no harm!" Jake yelled, he was finally getting tired of playing tag. Nevertheless, it is likely for him to even have a choice to put up a fight with whoever he was facing unless he actually needed to. "I've come only for uturu! I am not your enemy so please— Argh!" The moment he looked back, he saw the blade the girl was holding just an inch from his neck.

"What the fuck are you?!" The man yelled in panic, he could feel his whole body trembling. Obviously, the girl was a trained hunter. A warrior, at the very least, with such skills in drawing a blade. Jake could feel his heart beat fast, he never felt this panicked before and juat how unlucky he is now to be encountering a murder child.

"Close your filthy mouth! I refuse to believe that you are na'vi, you do not belong here and I will kill you and your group of impostors if it means to protect my clan!" And then she hit him again with a mighty blow capable of tripping her enemy.

Na'vieh yelled, it has been a very long time since she's had the opportunity to feel the emotions of a warrior and she was more than ruthless now than she remembered. She was just blinded by the thought of driving away the enemy.

Jake didn't understand her warning very clearly and kept himself in her naked eye the moment he pulled himself back up, causing her to hiss at his boldness and plunge an attack before he even had the chance to speak again.

Skillfully, Na'vieh started to strike him repeatedly and even resumely was able to bring him down to the ground where she could have a good look of his old blue face. She scoffed upon this and got even more angrier as he plainly let himself get pounced and strangled. He wasn't fighting back.

"Rahh! Fight back, you son a—!"

The next thing Jake knew was he was fighting a girl two times younger and smaller than him. He could feel her fury as she sees his appearance, especially his alien hand which made her scream bloody murder. The sight of it just felt too wrong.

Continuous attacks were plunged at him, he barely even dodged her skillful way of handling a two headed spear. He was mesmerized but at the same time was scared of the other things she might do.

She had the drive to kill and it showed in her empty murder eyes while she fought him, and she was basically begging him to use the gun he had been refused to use now that it had given away his relation with humans.

But Jake didn't give in and eventually threw off the gun which made Na'vieh back away, raising a brow as she wonders if he truly was enemy or that he was just onto something.

"Rahh!" She hissed, bearing her sharp canine.

She had her spear pointed at his chest, ready to cut through his flesh but the moment their eyes met, Na'vieh questioned her decisions and was torn into shreds as she sees the wounds she had inflicted on this man.

"Mawey... I mean... No harm..." The man had his arms in the air, breathing heavily and was in the verge if fainting from being roughly manhandled. Plus he had narrowly missed a strike, but his stomach bled from a cut that wasn't deep but was enough to worsen his state.

"I am na'vi, trust me." He whispers, keeping his posture and looking straight at Na'vieh's eyes. She narrowed her eyes at him, circling him like a predator. This act made her lower her weapon and tilt her head, before she asked. "What are you called?"

"The name's Jake Sully." Na'vieh's heart dropped and silence came between them, Jake was still low on guard and eventually sat down the earthy soil, heavily breathing as he wiped his bleeding nose. But the girl wasn't fazed, she kept her eyes on him, smelling his scent from afar and looking at his every feature.

"You are? Tseyk Soli? Toruk Macto?" Na'vieh asked gently, shocking the older guy. Her accent was different from his, but he understood just how relative she is.

"Yes, yes! And I am not enemy." As Jake nodded his head at her in agreement, she had a sad look on her face. The sound of the vast night wind was what occupied her mind, she fell in a trance and thought about what she had just done. Na'vieh lowered her defense and looked at the ground with furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips.

This is a mistake, why would Toruk Macto seek ukturu? This is... Nonsense. Na'vieh had a lot to process in her mind. She looked defiantly and narrowed her eyes, waiting for a subtle movement that show signs that this was nothing but a mere lie. But the call never did came and she was left with him.

"How long have you been here, Tseyk Suli? Why did you leave your clan? You are forest person, you do not come to the ocean." She asked, but surprisingly, he took this as a sign that she had forgotten the motive she had in mind.

"My family and I left for a reason."

As Jake explained right away to avoid any more problems, Na'vieh just looked at him with an unhappy face. She didn't even listen properly but he could sense his desperation, if it weren't for her head fogged up with the guilt of attacking an innocent person.

The moment Na'vieh was about to crouch down to pick up her spear, she felt her ear twitch as she felt a sudden movement. She thought at first that it was merely some Autrapede (pandoran animal), but it wasn't.

Until Na'vieh met the eyes of another, someone with deep amber eyes. She hissed and made Jake face her back, as though she was defending him.

Both Jake and her were alerted by a sudden presence and both was quick to do something. But unlike Jake who had a protective defense, Na'vieh was in for the kill as she sees another similar to the man he just fought, pointing an arrow at her. "Enemy!"

She didn't need anyone to tell her that this was Toruk Macto's son.

"Neteyam, do not shoot! Neteyam— NO!" Jake wasn't quick enough to stop the boy and Na'vieh was forced to see herself get impaled by an arrow, cutting the flesh of the lower left of her abdomen. The feeling of being thrown back slightly because of the strong impact made her numb, she thought she deserved it.

Na'vieh didn't show signs of struggle and took a deep breath before she looked back at the eyes of the boy, Neteyam. She looked at him to taunt him, and it worked. The boy stood frozen, eyes wide opens as he watched his dad rush over towards her.

She fell to the ground and laid flat on her back, Jake putting pressure on her wound as he tells her to calm down. But she was already calm, and displayed no sign of discomfort. She heaved, as if controlling the flow of her breathes.

"Ma Eywa." Na'vieh mumbled, breathing heavily and seemed like she didn't even bother looking up herself and her state.

"Sir...?" Neteyam called out to his father, dropping his bow to the ground while recalling what he just did. Shaking, he was afraid to get an answer from him, but he was eager to know. "Did— Did I kill her?"

Na'vieh heard what the guilt strikken boy said and grimaced. As Jake decided to pick her up, she had the chance to once again meet those amber eyes. She hissed at him, but very hoarsely.

"Of course not," Na'vieh answered his question, her eyes closing slowly as she reached out her hand. Neteyam could see her lack of ignominy, awestrucked. She placed a finger on his forehead and harshly pushed his head.

"You're gonna have to put more than that to kill me."

Unintended Worship, click here to teleport to the next chapter :P

ᓚᘏᗢ @deprivedreality 2023 | do not copy my works!

[butterflyintochains]

Moments of Calm

In which our favourite Dornish prince comforts his trauma riddled Targaryen princess.

TW: ptsd, abuse, trauma, nightmares, some light smut.

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The Red Keep is eerily silent, almost cavernous, but is screaming at her all the same. She walks barefoot through a tight corridor, the red brick walls closing in on her. Her breath misting up in front of her mouth, a series of rumbles emanating from somewhere beneath her feet. The corridor opens to the great hall, lit only by faint moonlight. The throne forged by Balerion himself looms large, too large for Shaena. Too large, too oppressive, to much for the princess. This thing has haunted her for years, it stole her brother, her mother, her family. Everything she ever knew, stolen from her by a chair made of swords. To her right, a set of very familiar footsteps trigger in her ear. No, not him, not again - Shaena thinks to herself. He's dead, right? He can't hurt her anymore, right? No matter, she bolts for the great black doors, only for them to slam shut. A malicious chuckle echoes around her. ''Now, my dear daughter, would your kepa harm you?'' Aerys asks her, decked all in black, but for that awful golden crown.

Shaena risks talking back, wishing Rhaegar was here. ''I don't know, would you?''

Aerys' lilac eyes change, evil settling deep within them. ''Is that any way to address your king, girl? Bend the knee, and beg for my mercy.'' This time, Shaena doesn't, the first time in her life. ''No.''

Aerys furiously bellows. ''No? Oh, that will not do, girl, try again.'' Shaena takes a breath, drawing on the last of her resolve. ''No.'' Aerys cackles, the noise reverberating off the red brick walls. ''I knew it, that insubordinate brother of yours has rotted your brains.'' Shaena's blood boils, no one insults Rhaegar to her face, not even her father, but he's not done yet. ''To say nothing of that Dornish princeling you consort with, filling your heart with his degeneracy.'' Oberyn, her Red Viper. The one who he knows how to degrade best, the prince her lord father despises so much, her prince. ''If you speak of Oberyn like that again, I'll...''

Aerys cuts her off, shrouded in complete darkness now. ''You'll what, Shaena? There's nowhere you can run to, I still own you.'' He comes to grab her by the throat, his overlong nails digging into her skin. ''Zaldrizes buzdari iksos daor.'' She manages to croak out, fighting the grip on her throat. In a fit of rage, Aerys backs her up to the doors, forcing her through them. But, it isn't stone her back hits.

It's sand.

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Oberyn is terrified, this hasn't happened since little Duncan was in the womb. His wife is sobbing loudly, writhing in pain, clawing at her neck. Her silver hair clinging to her sweating face. He remembers what Rhaegar instructed him to do in moments like these. He gently holds her against his chest from behind, carefully removing her hands from her throat. ''Shaena, moonlight, it's me, your Oberyn. I need you to wake up for me, come back to me, beloved.'' He caresses her damp hair as she begins to slowly calm down in his arms. ''That's it, darling, just breathe with me.'' Slowly, her breathing evens itself out. ''He's gone, Shaena, he can't hurt you anymore.''

Shaena's usually calm voice is trembling with unholy fear. ''Oberyn, you're here...'' Oberyn's heart breaks for his wife, seven years of their calm life have not cured it all. He presses light kisses to her neck and shoulder. ''I'm here, beloved, and I always will be. Aerys is gone, and isn't coming back, he can't hurt you.''

Shaena weeps, feeling so stupid for still being scared of her father after all these years. She knows he's gone, she knows that she's safe from him. Yet, he still lingers in the air. ''I know, darling, I do. It's just... difficult to feel safe. I still feel him in the air sometimes, it's like he's haunting me.''

Oberyn continues to press kisses to her neck, finding that tender spot where her neck and shoulder connect, a coiled knot of tension. He works on it with his lips, ''We're safe, moonlight, Aerys is never coming back, I swear to you.'' He lovingly shifts her position so he can capture her perfect lips in a kiss. Shaena melts into her husband's embrace, she glides her fingers through the scruff on his jawline, and down to rest over his heart. Hers slowly comes to match his. ''I love you, Oberyn Martell.'' Shaena says, almost whispering despite them being alone in their bedchamber. Oberyn rubs their noses together, brushing his lips against hers in the way that leaves her wanting more. ''I love you, Shaena Targaryen-Martell.'' He takes some time to make sure she's calmed all the way down, then he asks her. ''Do you want to get back to sleep?''

Shaena nods, feeling her violet eyes grow heavy, and her body become softened by her husband's unending love. ''I think so. Just, one more thing before we do?'' Oberyn's rich dark eyes grow curious, he says. ''Anything, my love, just speak it, and it's yours.'' Shaena asks her husband. ''Kiss me again?''

Oberyn gives a low, warm chuckle. ''Well, I'll never refuse you that.'' He leans down to kiss her, unhurried, passionate, and sensual as always. It's the most simple thing to him, loving his wife, who has been through so much. He kisses her, holding her perfect lips with his, their tongues massaging each other. Shaena moans as they pull apart. He kisses her forehead, and lies them both down, humming to her as she falls back into sleep.

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As usual, it's their four children who wake them up in the late morning. Oberyn waking at the sound of their door opening, seven year old Daeron leads his siblings in. Their eldest son a perfect mix of them both, his dark skin and hair with her amethyst eyes. Five year old Elia isn't far behind, a little Dornish beauty. Four year old Alyssa - her mother's miniature - comes in holding her little brother's hand. Duncan, aged two, has Oberyn's skin tone and dark eyes, but his mother's silver hair. ''Shaena, beloved, looks as if we're no longer alone in here.''

Shaena stirs, blinking sleep from her eyes, and instantly perks up at the sight of their four children. ''Good morning, our loves, come on up.'' The couple sit up to make room for their children. All four climb up onto the bed. ''I heard mama shouting last night.'' Daeron says, looking concerned for his mother.

Shaena pulls her eldest close to her, and kisses his dark brown hair. ''I'm alright, little love, just a bad dream. But, your papa was there to help me, weren't you, love?''

Oberyn proudly nods, pulling Alyssa onto his lap. ''Of course I did, darling.''

Elia asks her mother. ''Why do you have bad dreams, muna?'' Shaena has decided to tell her children everything about herself later on, there are just some things they're not ready to hear yet. ''That, Elia, is a story for when you all are much older.''

Alyssa looks up to her father, and asks. ''Can we have breakfast now, papa? Outside?''

Oberyn nods, kissing his daughter's nose. ''That sounds wonderful to me, how about you, moonlight?''

Shaena looks up from fussing over little Duncan. ''You read my mind, sunshine.''

They send the children for morning baths and to get dressed, and take care of themselves. They ask for breakfast to be served outside by the red lily garden. Shaena watches her husband playing amongst the plants and ponds with their children, already feeling pulled to add another to their little paradise. She knows how vulnerable they still are. How delicate this peace is. Robert's agents will come sniffing around given half a chance. Just as they will if he catches wind of the plan Rhaegar put in his final letter to her. Being a Targaryen in Robert's Westeros is dangerous, she of all people knows that. She even worries about her younger brother and sister in Essos.

But, looking at the family she's building with the love of her life, all that love and happiness, all the triumph amidst terrible circumstances. She can't help but feel as if things are finally settling down. She would replicate Jaehaerys and Alysanne with Oberyn if she could. She prays for a restoration, though not for her own reign, but as long as they're in Dorne, they're safe.

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A couple of slow and peaceful months pass, it's early in the morning, and the couple are in the throes of lovemaking. The children still fast asleep, their curtains teased by a soft breeze, sunlight cascading in through the open windows. Inside, the bed quietly creaks with their motions, their sheets all but tossed on the floor in their haste. Oberyn lazily trails his mouth down Shaena's throat, gently playing with her slightly puffy breasts. ''Oberyn... gods, don't stop.'' She's insatiable, as she was in the early parts of all four of her last pregnancies. ''As you wish, my princess.''

After, they lie together, Oberyn peppering his wife's neck and shoulders with kisses, cupping her breasts in his hands. Shaena sighs contentedly, and says. ''Oberyn, do you want to know a secret, nuha peldio?''

Oberyn says, his voice sultry as always, one of her many favourite things about her husband. ''Of course.'' Shaena takes both of his hands from her breasts, and moves them down to rest on her lower abdomen. ''Wondered why you haven't been riding lately.'' Shaena chuckles, turning to face her husband. ''Mind having another little one running around here?''

Oberyn kisses her on the mouth. ''We've wanted a big family since we wed, sweetheart.'' He twists some of her silver hair around his fingers. ''Besides, you look so beautiful while pregnant, all full of our babies.'' Shaena's eyes darken, already hungry for him again. ''How long do you think we have?''

Oberyn thinks for a moment. ''About half an hour.'' Shaena nods, and kisses him, rolling her husband onto his back.

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A few weeks pass, Shaena is working on some texts from a friend of theirs at the Citadel. Figuring out whatever the Maesters have been up to has been a passion project of the couple's for some time now. The texts are in High Valyrian, so she's translating them into Common. She and Oberyn aren't alone in this endeavour either. The Daynes, Reeds, and Velaryons are equally interested. Oberyn gets in from sparring with his new squire. He kisses her, placing his ringed hand upon her small bump. ''Any progress, beloved?''

Shaena nods, putting her free hand on top of his. ''Yes, actually, I've gotten some intel on Layton Hightower and his daughter, and a possible clue on why they sent my uncle to the wall.''

Oberyn puts his spear down, and takes the chair next to hers at her desk. ''What do you think they want?''

Shaena sighs, frustrated at the lack of real evidence still. ''That's the thing, nuha peldio, the paper trail is so scattered, I don't think I can have an opinion yet.'' She examines some writing. ''The end of all magic is certain, but the odd relationship to my family and our history is just a hunch so far.''

Oberyn asks her, seeming confused all of a sudden. ''If the Maesters hate magic, why do they employ Marwyn at all?''

Allyria Dayne, Shaena's lady-in-wating, responds. ''Perhaps to keep up appearances? There's always been a Grand Maester for Magic, people would talk if they suddenly cut the post out.''

Shaena concedes, she hadn't thought of it like that before, not in the now three years they've been investigating this. ''That's a great explanation, Allyria.''

Oberyn asks his wife, who is pouring herself some more herbal tea. ''Have you had word from Aemon at all lately?''

Shaena shakes her head, nursing her tea in her hand. ''No, not since Duncan's second nameday. Last I heard; he was well, sight going, but healthy, and in good spirits.''

They're discussing their own theories about the Maesters, when a maid comes in with a letter stamped with a Targaryen seal. Shaena thanks the girl, and cracks the wax dragon. It's from Pentos... addressed from someone called Serra Mopatis.

Princess Shaena,

You'll be pleased to know your younger brother and sister are in safe hands once again. Myself and my husband have taken them in. Viserys has been so brave, and is shaping up to be a great king someday. Daenerys is the sweetest little girl, and whip smart too. Illyrio and I will house them for as long as they need us to, and we will write to you as often as we can.

Yours in trust,

Serra Mopatis.

Shaena is relieved, her only remaining siblings are seemingly in safe hands, and are doing well in the east. She takes another look at the seal, a black dragon instead of red, but all that matters to her for now is that they're safe. She adds it to her locked box of letters, right on top of Rhaegar's last letter to her, and Lyanna Stark's only letter to her. Pulling up a piece of parchment and her pen, she writes to Eddard Stark.

Lord Stark

Read this in private, and burn this letter once you have. I am asking for an update on how my nephew is faring with your family at Winterfell. My brother and sister are in Pentos, and I am carrying mine and Oberyn's fifth child. I just need to know for my own peace of mind how Jon is doing, if he's being treated well, and if he wants to see me at all.

Yours in good faith,

Princess Shaena Targaryen-Martell.

She lets the ink dry, seals it with her red dragon, and goes off to the rookery to send it with her usual raven. It's almost comical, really, Robert going to all that trouble to wipe out all Targaryens in sight, and he has now missed four, and is the king of five more. Dynasties may change, but the dragons still rise.

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A/N: The first Oberyn/Shaena ficlet!! Very proud of this one. I wanted this to serve as a kind of insight into how Shaena works. She's a wife and mother, recovering from an abusive father, and has stepped into the role as de facto head of House Targaryen. She knows exactly what's going on with her siblings out east, and the truth of Rhaegar/Lyanna/Jon. She also has a hunch that the Maesters are at least somewhat behind the fall of her family and of Valyrian culture as a whole.

[not-so-anonymous-scotch]

1.4k words, Etho/Bdubs, Last Life, kinda angsty/light hurt/comfort

i had art ideas related to this but i am burnt out on art, so i got my feelings out this way.

read it above on ao3! that one will also have edits/fixes.

but you can also read below.

---

  Desperate barely described it at this point. Never did he think he'd be fighting death so hard this season, jumping from red to yellow at every turn. If this was like the previous Life season, he'd be out for good... but he wasn't- not yet. It wasn't even thanks to his own wits either. It was Etho, of course. These were risky times, as Bdubs kept finding himself thrown into hostility over and over. He needed those lives, he had to get them. Until the two of them were on red, he just needed one more life. Each death hurt, but every time he stumbled back to Etho on a new yellow life it reminded him they had to stick together.

  The back and fourths were proof of that. Bdubs smiled softly at the thought as the trudged along behind a line of red lives. Though the more they did it, the more Bdubs knew full well he was clinging onto Etho for dear life. Like a diving bell, sinking to the depths of the darkest ocean, holding him tight, in a place that would rather like him cold and dead. The pressure only got worse every time he pulled Etho down again and again.

  There was a slight pang in his chest, but he pushed it off. He wasn't dragging Etho down, no way. Or he was- but. It felt too good, to be with him. He wasn't going to lose that.

  Little thought went through his head in the next moments- he had to do it quick, he had to make it out, he couldn't mess this up. When the others stepped ahead, Bdubs turned around to Lizzie, sword out. Even his own words flew past his ears as the adrenaline took over. It happened so quick, so quick the relief hadn't hit yet. He was so close, so close- his feet just needed to carry him away to safety. Everything was pounding in his head, blood hot and breathing heavy as Bdubs ran in no particular direction.

  The arrows behind him were flying, and his legs wobbling with exhaustion. There was a sudden sting as an arrow pierced his arm, glancing back as he watched the other red lives readying their bows once more. His feet could barely hold him, and it didn't seem to matter much now- Bdubs was up against the world border.

[ more below the cut ]

  No-

  Panic was immediate. Survival was too, but his anxiety was growing. There was nowhere to go. Was there ever a chance he'd make it out alive? It was a fool's errand. Grian put it best- how could Etho have loyalty to him now? After Bdubs took his generosity so many times?

  No- I need to find him. I was supposed to see him again-

  The whirring sound of a flying arrow made him turn. In less than a second it hit- a jab through his chest. Slumped to the ground, faced with darkness. The sounds of voices were quiet and muffled as the pain dissipated, and his vision slowly returned. Though not in the way he wished- the slight filter over his sight, the faint sounds, and his lifeless body below told him enough.

  Bdubs was dead. Completely, undeniably dead. And for a moment the heavy feelings hadn't hit him yet, and then they did. There were quick reactions in the chat, making him look away until-

  <Etho:> gg buddy

  Bdubs gripped his shirt tight, lips pressed together as he still stood over his dead body. The game was still going, Etho was alive- and didn't want to go. He couldn't be there with him- not in the way he wanted to. But he'd watch.

  And Bdubs did. He ran into a few others in their moments of final death, but they were gone after a few moments, no one sticking around to spectate longer than him. Each new session, he watched. Etho, of course. While it seemed simple enough to watch his friend, it was more so leaving him time to his own thoughts. Every minute he watched, was another minute that he started to feel... bad. The feeling of wanting to be with Etho was being overwhelmed by this creeping guilt.

  Sure, his death was his fault in the end. But the thought of running back to Etho and begging for another life-- he felt bad about it now. It would've left Etho vulnerable too. It wouldn't have helped them. It was his begging that made Etho go through with the plan at all. He was wracking his head over this- not even paying attention to the sudden death messages popping off in the chat box. Until it happened- Etho was killed.

  Frantically, Bdubs tracked down the battle at hand, flying his way over. He heard a few chatting, then a few logging out. Etho was still there. He couldn't see him, but he started to get into earshot of his outro... Bdubs lingered.

  “...Unfortunately-” Etho's voice was faint as Bdubs kept quiet, waiting. “Didn't win it for Bdubs, uh... but he didn't win it for me, either.”

In a quieter voice, he laughs. “Just kidding Bdubs, I love you.”

  Bdubs swallowed hard, and waited until he was done.

“Etho?” He said to nothing but the voice he heard.

There was a moment of quiet. “Bdubs? I saw you were still logged on.. Um, were you here the whole time...?”

“I uh.. I saw the fight, yeah.” Bdubs replied. “Yeah.”

  It was hard to tell if the silence was awkward or unintentional. There was no body language to read.

  “What happened?” Etho started up. “I mean, how'd you die? Your video got corrupted so.. never saw it.”

“Oh I just... I-” Bdubs breathed in sharp, “I got backed up to the border. I couldn't get out. I tried but-”

Bdubs stops, then continues again. “Its okay though, you didn't need to waste a life on me anyways.” He gave a short laugh, “I think I got enough from you, right? How many times did I go red..?”

Etho chuckled briefly. “I wish I sent the life quick- could've saved you.”

Bdubs' brows furrowed, anxiety pricking at his skin. “Ha, yeah. I mean.. You- you'd keep it if I did make it out-”

“What d'you mean?”

Bdubs exhaled. “Uh, well. I know the deal was I'd kill a red life and all, but..” Talking was hard. “Like- I... I didn't need that from you, you would've been yellow and- and I shouldn't be asking you for more lives...”

“But- you can. I...” Etho trailed off for a moment. “Bdubs, I wanted you to.. stay alive.”

Bdubs laughed, “Nooo... I- uh, you... you needed your lives more, I would've taken you down to red in no time if you gave me another!”

  Bdubs always liked to... laugh off his anxieties. He pushed his own support away if he felt bad for taking it at all. He was glad in these moments that neither of them could actually see each other. He felt like a mess, and he probably looked like one.

  “Bdubs... you know how many times I could've killed you, right?” Etho started, “I could've.. I could've tricked you so easy- I didn't though, I wanted to give you a life so we could stay together.”

Bdubs was silent for a moment, somehow still overcome with his guilt. “Yeah but- you told me to kill a red life- it was a death sentence, I was gonna die no matter what.” He was nearly tripping over his words, making up his accusations as he went. His chest tightened. “And it worked, cuz I- I wouldn't need your lives if I was dead.”

  He felt bad about that after he said it, and the silence showed that well.

  “Come on, Bdubs.” Etho's tone dropped a bit, easing out of the loose banter he thought they were having.

“What?”

“You know...” Etho sighed, “you know what I mean. You're just making stuff up. I wanted you- I wanted you to... to stay.”

Bdubs sighed. “I- I just- you did too much for me this season. I just didn't want to-”

“ Too much?” Etho interrupts. “Bdubs, I never do too much for you. I do just the right amount.”

The chuckle he let out comforted Bdubs.

“Yeah-” Bdubs stifled a laugh, “Yeah, I guess.”

“You do enough for me too, you know.”

“I hope so.” Bdubs replied, quieter. “But I'll do more, next time.”

“More? No, no- I'll do more.” Etho said, the image of a grin obvious.

“No, no- you- you don't need to!” Bdubs returned with a laugh, “I'll just not die. I'll keep myself alive, alright?”

“We're gonna die either way next time.” Etho replied, “Just... know I always got your back, okay? I gave you my lives because I care.”

“You care?” It was like a familiar echo from Bdubs' lips.

“I do.”