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amywritesthings · 11 months

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silver underground. / chapter eight.

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x F!Reader (Attack on Titan / Shingeki no Kyojin)

Word Count: 2.8K

Summary: Day 161 - also known as the day you messed up

Warnings: this one's a little rough sorry, violence, sparring, mentions of death, shouting, levi's going through some things, i promise this is only temporary hurt

Previous Chapter. / Next Chapter. | Masterlist.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

Don’t.

The syllable echoes in the back of your brain on this roof, down this ladder, in this bed, and you cannot shake it.

Daylight breaches the darkness surrounding you.

Although you had originally exited the castle in a cold sweat, freezing to the bone, you return to your bedroom wanting nothing more than an icy bath.

Something, anything, that will submerge you fully — to cut off your air supply, to short-circuit your brain, so you can finally stop thinking.

So you can finally stop wondering.

In those last few moments, you aren’t sure why you reached for Levi.

Chalk it up as a momentary weakness — in the haze of reality wrapped in the guise of a dream, begging him to stay with you on that rooftop felt right.

Because Levi looked at you differently in the moonlight, and you felt something.

Recognition, maybe.

Frustration, sure.

Oh, so much frustration, and not in the kind you anticipated to feel.

You want to regret it, regret any of it — you can’t.

Levi can grumble and growl all he wants, but the tell-tale signs of his body did not lie: how his pulse quickened under your fingertips; how his eyes widened like you slapped him in the face, though your touch was featherlight and desperate; how you wanted to pull him down, down, until he sat back at your side.

To be near you.

To be closer.

Whatever he was going through in silence, you felt it too.

(What the fuck is going on?)

It isn't until Levi is gone that you realize:

Your nightmare, horrific and traumatic, is something your body cannot shake. It started out in pieces just like the rest of your memories, fluttering like paper ashes through your mind.

Last night had merely been the first time the real scene played from beginning to end — as if your body questions the accident in some self-inflicted court trial, daring it to be wrong at least once.

As if it's easier to process a trail of dominoes spilling before its track properly finishes when said game may be fabricated.

But the dream isn't a dream, and the line ends directly at Captain Levi's feet.

You went back on his order.

You chose to think you could pull off the impossible.

One bad decision after another.

He should have left you to die, and yet—

You still see it playing over your vision while lying in this bed, though the image is hazy and crawling to your peripheral: your hand outstretched to the sky, hair lashing against your cheeks, and a blurry figure nose-diving between thick tree trunks.

You don’t sleep the remaining hours of the night.

Can’t, not when the only thing you wish to do is run after him.

Don’t.

Why?

Don’t forgive me.

Does he blame himself for the decision you chose?

“Hey! Are you listening to a single word I’m saying?”

A voice breaks your internalized panic.

“I swear, you’re starting to get as bad as Lev—”

“Huh?”

You blink yourself back into your body as an exasperated Hange yelps in your face. Their head drops back, chin to the sky and shoulders slouched in defeat.

(As much as you would hate to admit it, their question is not what brings you back to life.)

“Oh, there she is. Finally,” The Section Commander grumbles. “Hi. Hello. Did you not sleep or something?”

“I— No, not really,” you answer as non-descriptive as possible.

Hange squints. “Was it a bad dream? Or was Gunther snor—”

“Too cold,” you interrupt, shaking your head with a forced smile. “The room was too cold. I accidentally left the window open. Sorry, I’m listening.”

“I was just saying how I hope to have more information on the titans we wrangled last week by the time you all get back.”

“Get… back?” you ask, brows knit.

Hange nods. “Last day at camp, kiddo! Not having a spurt of memory issues now, are you?”

Placing both of their hands on their hips, they grin wide.

“If you didn’t catch some zzz’s last night, then you better catch an early shut eye tonight. Trust me when I say you probably won’t sleep much on the road.”

Right.

It's time for the mission.

Your heart leaps into your throat.

“I forgot we were leaving tomorrow,” you admit. “The days keep running into each other.”

“It’s pretty endless out here, yeah,” Hange admits. “But it’s less we and more Levi Squad — so you.”

“Wait — not you?”

“Or Moblit,” Hange adds. “Man, you really were zoned out. But no, Moblit and I will be staying behind to run a few tests on samples we were able to acquire from the two titans we captured, but we should greet you when you six come back!”

You blink twice, processing their interesting future plans.

Titan samples. Sure.

It’s not the weirdest thing Hange has said by a long shot.

Choosing not to make a big deal out of it, you hold a thumbs’ up at the plan.

“The expedition is gonna suck without you out there, Hange.”

They press a palm to their chest, face pink and all-too smug with themselves.

“Aw, please, I am very aware, but I leave annoying Levi in your good hands.”

You grin, but butterflies invade your stomach.

You can't shake the image of his eyes piercing down at you, dark hair cascading in the pale moonlight.

Weeks exploring and fighting with Levi Squad without the comfort of Hange to run back to feels scary, but the other members have made a valiant effort in inviting you back into the fold.

Petra, Eld, and Gunther have made incredible strides to get to know this version of you — the one that isn’t familiar to them, but the person who is familiar to you.

They take you at face value, and you appreciate their patience.

The only person who pretends to be reluctant is Oluo — forever attempting to be Levi’s shadow.

(Little does he know Levi isn’t reluctant, not really — not always.)

“Oi.”

Speak of the devil and he shall invite himself to your one-on-one conversation.

Captain Levi trudges over to the two of you with his arms crossed over his chest, seemingly unimpressed with the way Hange watches him with an overly-thrilled smile.

He’s tired, though that could just be his face.

You’ve learned that Levi always looks tired.

Today, however, he’s particularly exhausted; the gray under his eyes is a sullen ring larger. He still carries himself well, but there is a hint of uncertainty in the way he postures towards Hange.

“Can I borrow her?” he asks the wild-haired brunette.

“Now, why are you askin’ me?” Hange teases. “She’s a grown woman. She can go where she wants, even though you hog her attention all the time.”

The not-so-subtle dig causes your body to heat up.

“Oh, fuck off,” Levi groans, waving away their words like it’s another titan rant.

And he turns.

He walks away like you were going to follow.

Like it’s a learned obedience.

(Your feet step in time with him before you even know it.)

“Did you need me for something, Captain?”

“Levi,” he corrects once you’re out of earshot of Hange.

“Levi,” you repeat.

“We leave in the morning for the next expedition,” Levi recaps, ignoring whatever it might have been that Hange has discussed with you in the interim. “I thought you’d like a final spar before we’re on the road. It wouldn’t be smart to train while we’re in the forest, so it’s my final offer to properly kick your ass.”

A huff of relief passes against your lips.

Normal.

Everything feels normal despite the other night, and you bask in instantaneous excitement.

“Properly?” you challenge. “What, is this your way of telling me you held back the last few times? Because I fucking knew you—”

“No, dumbass,” Levi interrupts gruffly. “It’s a figure of speech.”

“Uh-huh,” you reply with a smirk, finding your spot on the circle of dirt you’ve truly familiarized yourself with since arriving at this dilapidated castle.

Your safe space.

One you just happen to share with him, only him.

It brings you peace — at least, until you spy the thatched roof of the fateful supply building over his head, and you remember.

That narrow gaze.

The flex of his muscles against your hand.

Your hand twitches at your side.

“Are you going to waste my time?”

Levi’s voice brings you back to earth.

You snap out of it, finding his dead-eyed gaze as his brow quirks.

“You alright over there, James?”

You nod after a beat passes.

“Um… yeah, sorry. I didn’t get much sleep.”

The mention of the night has him tensing. You can see it in his neck, just under the slope of his gray shirt.

You fixate on the pulse point.

“No?”

You notice the challenging hint in his voice. Like he isn’t going to step over the line completely in personal territory, but he’s asking. Toeing.

You get into a fighting stance.

“I stayed up there for a little while longer after you had left.”

I didn’t forget, asshole.

With that, Levi strikes first and throws a mean punch.

You manage to deflect at the right time. He resets, studying your face, before throwing another.

You deflect again, again, again — internalizing, memorizing his strategy by now.

He’ll be the aggressor if he doesn’t have to talk.

Fine.

He doesn’t have to talk, but you might have an ace up your sleeve.

You never told him about the first time he first knocked you on your ass in front of the whole squad. How several memories barreled straight into the forefront of your consciousness — a rush of vivid sounds and colors, of conversations and inside jokes.

Where you see him, remember him, so fully that you’re so goddamn certain you might have known this man better than you knew yourself in another life.

You haven’t won a single one of these spars yet.

Come Hell or high water, you want that to change with this final spar.

So you mind your time.

You deflect, deflect, deflect — ducking, dodging, jabbing back — until a moment presents itself.

Levi spins with a high kick, and you let him.

You cross your arms over your chest to block him — knowing damn well his foot won’t connect there. Instead his boot slams into your side, knocking you into the dirt.

A wheeze exits your throat as you crunch on all fours, nursing your torso with your arm.

“Get up.”

Levi demands above you, pushing some of the dirt with his boot as a warning.

Like, if you don’t obey, he’ll kick it right into your face.

He never does.

Empty promises, all of his threats.

(Only with you.)

“But I was just up,” you mumble in protest, the memory playing in real time over your own sightline. Although you were on your back in the Underground, you remain on all fours here, elbows digging into the earth.

Levi doesn’t realize what you’re doing, what you’re saying, so he just sneers.

“C’mon, we don’t have all day, James.”

“Give me a sec.”

“You don’t have a se—”

There.

The nonsensical bickering gives you that singular precious moment to put all of your weight into your arm as it swings to hook around his ankle.

Pulling as hard as you possibly can, you use your core and sweep his leg. Levi makes a noise of surprise as he’s airborne, only to crash beside you in a nasty thud.

You follow the memory to a tee, crawling up the captain’s body to press your arm into his windpipe, daring him to fight back. Your knees cradle his hips, trapping him beneath.

Gritting his teeth, Levi holds onto your wrist without pushing it away. His other hand settles on your waist, as if it's reflex to fit there, though you’re too busy staring at his lips.

From this proximity, you can feel tiny puffs of air exiting his mouth.

His breath smells herbal, like Bergamot.

Then you realize the origin: his morning Earl Gray tea.

After fluttering over your face in confusion, Levi's eyes connect with yours.

His lips part, voice low:

“Dirty trick—”

His breath hitches when you say it with him, in a different octave.

Melodic.

Knowing.

You pray he understands.

That he’ll be excited that you remember.

Dirty trick. Ever since that memory trickled back into your pysche, that phrase felt important. Dirty trick. Something so silly to most, but it held just as much weight as your forearm pressing into his skin.

Slowly you break into a wide grin, all-too proud — of finally revealing you've remembered something between the two of you, of finally winning.

You anticipated Levi to be shocked, maybe a little pissed.

What you don’t expect, however, is a blank slate.

Levi Ackerman stares up at you like he’s witnessing shadows, silhouettes, behind you. The whites of his eyes overtake as they widen in tandem with your stretching grin. Startled, shocked…

Recognition.

Dread.

Like you said the wrong thing.

The air thickens in the finite space between you, soaked to the brim with something unspoken.

His eyes flicker up and down your face, coming back into his own body one step at a time — before his hands harshly shove you clear from his body. You go flying into the dirt, skidding across the circle.

He sits up, gasping like the weight of you nearly crushed him.

“What the fuck?” he sputters in an agitated yelp.

You merely sit there, dumbfounded.

This?

This is not the reaction you had anticipated.

Not after last night. Not after the way he looked at you.

“What the fuck was that, James?” he asks again, harsher this time.

“I’m — I thought it was a nice surprise!”

“What?”

“That I remembered!” you clarify in a yelp. “Like how we used to spar, then you'd always say I was using dirty tricks to win against—”

“You think it’s funny to relive shit without clueing me in first?” he spits, egregiously nasty.

“It seemed like a funny—”

“What about that shit is funny to you?”

Oh.

His eyes could kill right now.

You remain on the ground, dumbfounded as he stumbles to his feet, curt in his swipes to pat off the dirt from his uniform. It’s not as graceful as he usually is when a spar is complete.

You feel like he’s punched a hole through your body.

“Levi—”

“When you remember something, I expect you to tell me, alright?” he cuts you off with a bark. “Don’t surprise me like any of this is fucking cute.”

He’s really upset, and he’s not afraid to show it.

That means it’s serious.

You swallow thickly, slowly getting up with him.

“Was that more significant than I thought?” you ask, scrambling to salvage the moment. “Saying those words. Saying dirty—”

“Don’t repeat it.”

“Levi!”

“I - said - don’t.”

Your last spar before the expedition cannot end like this.

This cannot be the note you strive towards when you’re finally out on the field.

Everything was going so well — what happened?

So you ask.

“Levi, what just happened?”

The fact that you even ask makes Levi sneer. He bends down, wiping off the leather straps surrounding his thighs with contempt.

Disgust.

“If you have to ask me,” Levi bites, “then it means you don’t really remember.”

“What?” you ask, following after him once he turns on a heel. You have yet to swipe the dirt from your body. “But I do! I do remember.”

“Then what’s it about, shithead?”

“You said it once to me when I beat you!" you quickly supply. "It's probably an inside joke when it comes to our sparring.”

“The keyword being probably. You're just talking out of your ass."

"Levi!" you protest in hurt. "I'm sorry. Okay? I am sorry."

"Don't bother, alright? And don't ever surprise me with this shit again."

Desperate, you near him as he begins to walk away. "Please, maybe if you just walk me through what I'm remembering—"

"I told you I'm not giving you handouts."

Despite yourself, you reach for him. "Levi—"

Levi turns to deflect your nearing hand, smacking it harshly away from him. "Enough, Lieutenant." His jaw clenches. "Get your shit, say your goodbyes to Hange and Moblit, and get some goddamn rest for tomorrow’s expedition. Lack of sleep can get your comrades killed. Don’t repeat past mistakes.”

Your mouth opens to refute, but you can’t say anything back.

His words aim to kill, and they deliver a knife to your gut.

Levi waits, expecting you to fight, but you cannot.

Won’t, not when his cruelty hurts.

Satisfied by your silence, he ducks his chin and stalks to the stables.

You do not follow.

authors note: ....okay this one was my bad bUT i swear i'm making it up to you in the next chapter. I had a few health issues the last couple of weeks, so I thank you for your patience for this update. I have much more of 9 written, so I hope that comes out in a timely fashion.

tag list: @lazylizzy3 @notgoodforlife @sad-darksoul

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smartycvnt · 4 months

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The Waiting Game*

Title: The Waiting Game

Pairing: Nick Jackson x Reader

Summary: Nick and Ash find a way to make the distance a little easier to handle.

Word Count: 915

Warnings: smut, phone/video sex

Nick smiled as his phone screen lit up with Ash's face. He could see that she was at home and lounging by the pool. They had been apart for weeks, first by Ash's stint in New Japan, and now by AEW's European tour. Nick was exhausted, both from travel and the difficulty sleeping without Ash by his side. It was super late in Germany, but Nick had to at least see Ash and hear her voice before he tried going to sleep.

"Hey, you look gorgeous," Nick greeted. He always tried to greet his fiance with a compliment. Ash smiled and blushed at the compliment, ducking her head down slightly. The movement jostled her a little and Nick's attention was drawn straight to her breasts.

"You look tired Nicky," Ash said. Nick pouted, and Ash quickly tried to think of a way to reiterate her words to show her concern. "How have you been sleeping lately?"

"Not well. You know that I can't sleep without you here." This time, it was Ash pouting as she looked at Nick. She hadn't exactly been sleeping the greatest herself, but Ash also knew what it took for Nick to admit something like that. "It's just been really hard not having you here. Are you sure that you don't want to hop on a plane and come see me for a couple nights?"

"Are you sure that you just want me there for sleep?" Ash teased. Nick knew that it was a joke, but he was still completely serious in his answer.

"Not at all. Honestly, I'd probably be too riled up to sleep. Some days it feels like I just can't get off by myself," Nick said. Ash's cheeks were burning up at the thought of Nick desperately trying to get himself off. She had always sort of had a thing for watching him touch himself. She loved watching the way his eyes darkened right before he came and the little noises that he pulled out of himself.

"I could help you with that problem," Ash offered.

"And how exactly would you do that from all the way over there?" Nick asked. Ash didn't say a word as she reached behind her back and pulled the string to her bikini top. Nick watched as it fell away with the bikini itself, but Ash kept the camera at an angle where he couldn't see everything. "Teasing me? You are a cruel woman."

"You've got it all wrong Nicky, I'm helping you. You just have to listen." Ash dropped her voice a little and let in some of her natural husk to it. She knew how much Nick loved hearing that voice and the things that it did to him. "Just close your eyes and relax."

"Okay," Nick agreed. He closed his eyes and moved the hand not holding his phone over his cock.

"It's been so long since I saw you last, and I miss you so much," Ash started. "I know that you miss me too. Can I tell you about all the things that I miss right now, Nicky?"

"Yes, please do," Nick said. Ash could tell that he had started to slowly stroke his cock. It was slow and more subtle, but still obvious that Nick was touching himself.

"I miss feeling your hands on my body. You're always touching me, even when we aren't having sex. I love it when you put your hands on my hips and squeeze a little. Especially whenever I'm riding you. God, I'd give anything to feel you inside of me right now, Nicky. I've tried using toys, but it doesn't feel the same. Nobody can fuck me like you, and it's so frustrating. I swear there was a whole week in Japan where I was just going crazy trying to get off without you," Ash said.

"Yeah? I'm sorry," Nick apologized. The words came out pretty jumbled, but Ash could still understand him. She could also see how her words turned Nick on even more.

"I can't wait for you to get home and fuck me, Nicky. God, it's been so long since I've had a good orgasm. You'd better rest up before then, because we're going all night. I want you in every possible way, Nicky," Ash told him. Nick whimpered at the thought of a sex marathon with Ash. He had been dreaming about it all week. Somehow, Ash always knew exactly what to say. "I want us to do things that we've never thought to try before. I'll give you anything you want if you make me cum."

"Ash, fuck," Nick moaned. She could see his arm moving quickly as he jerked himself off. His hips lifted up off of the bed in sporatic thrusts. Ash could tell that he was close, so she decided to try something new to help him over the edge.

"Come on Nicky, cum for me baby. Be a good boy and cum, I know you need to. I bet you're throbbing, so just let go. I'll be right here when you're finished." Ash's gentle reassurance and coaxing seemed to help tremendously. Ash watched as Nick stopped moving with a few deep grunts. She wanted so badly to be there with Nick to clean him up, but she also knew that the wait out be worth it. Nick may have cum, but Ash knew that he'd be ready for her whenever he got back to America. "Good boy, Nicky, good boy."

#my writing #one shot #nick jackson x reader #nick jackson #the elite x reader #the elite #the young bucks x reader #the young bucks #aew x reader #all elite wrestling x reader #all elite wrestling #aew

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autumn-sweet-fae · 2 years

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so i just binged the submas wanted au, and i absolutely adore it! i was wondering though - there’s been a few mentions of both ingo and akari’s family/friends all together as a big group, but what about when ingo, emmet, and elesa have to go back to unova?

even though they’ve regained some memories, and are with their families, ingo and akari have been through hell and back together, both in hisui and sinnoh. especially in akari’s case - she has less of her memories to fall back on, leaving ingo as a huge constant in her life as far as she can completely remember. she loves her mom and barry, but they wouldn’t understand what she’s gone though, which includes the large amount of trust issues she’s gained - she may be strong, but she’s still a kid who has been thrown off the deep end so many times at this point, with her uncle and his lady being 2 of the only people/pokémon she could trust implicitly.

and like yeah, they have video calling and all that fun stuff, but trauma bonding runs deep and i could see it being very hard on them to separate even if it’s a few weeks after they’ve all reunited and have had time to truly relax. as well, lady sneasler would be leaving with ingo, meaning that the eggs and pokémon she’s been working to protect since they returned would be very far away, and even though logically they’re going to be safe, i feel like it would be a huge source of anxiety for her.

sorry for the long ask, i just really loved this au and it’s something i couldn’t stop thinking about as i kept reading!

Thank you!! And I love long asks! Don’t you worry!!

Also, I can assure you they are not actually going to be separated in the end. Found families breaking up and returning to the status quo at the end of the story is a trope I despise.

This whole experience is gonna leave some serious long lasting effects, on Akari especially since she’s never gonna get nearly as much of her memory back as Ingo will. Like you said, she loves her mom and Barry, but she’s bonded with Ingo in such a way that suddenly removing him from her life would do more harm then good.

Ingo might not have been the only adult figure that Akari bonded in her time in Hisui (Professor Laventon and Captain Cyllene to name two) but he’s the only one she still has, who’s still alive. The fact that everyone she knew in Hisui is now dead is gonna be something that hits them both at some point.

Emmet and Johanna are going to recognize this and listen to them. After loosing their loved ones for so long they would much rather expand of their existing families then put the two through any more stress.

I briefly mentioned it in one of the asks I answered, this one here, but after everything that happens I could see Johanna being willing to move to Unova if it means her baby will be more comfortable and able to recover more smoothly.

Like there might be two weeks where Ingo and Akari are physically separated, but with all the stress it causes them and Sneasler it makes the decision for Johanna and Akari to just move closer to the twins easier.

The Sinnoh champion now living in Unova most the year will be big change, but if it’s what Akari needs/wants then no one can stop them. It’s not like she’s never coming back and I feel like Ingo and Sneasler will still want to visit Sinnoh too.

And Barry will still see her too. His dad can pay for his plane tickets and I’m sure he’ll want to explore Unova and have another adventure like Ash does for every new region.

The real publicize issue that will arise from Akari’s move will be which region will get custody of the Hisui Pokémon. Due to the fact that, Legally Speaking, all Hisui pokemon belong to Akari and Ingo as they were the ones to catch them, the Sinnoh region would be at a disadvantage for them to demand they all say within Sinnoh’s boarders.

This argument could very well be what causes the two weeks separation. Akari will return to Sinnoh with her mom and the Hisui pokemon she caught, believing she should go back for their sakes and Ingo should stay with his brother here. Ingo wants to tell her to stay, That she’s under no obligation to do anything, but he’s also is dealing with his own stuff and doesn’t want to force her to stay someplace so foreign to her if she doesn’t want to.

So she’d go back and work with Cynthia and Rowen to start up the Hisui sanctuary in Sinnoh. Meanwhile Ingo is looking into doing the same in Unova for the pokemon he caught and of course for Sneasler and her kits. Just over two weeks later they’re both miserable and regressing. Their loved ones can see it though and decide that this is a terrible idea. They connect, talk it out, and decide that the Sinnoh region can run the sanctuary without Akari and any pokemon that have closely bonded with her are hers to take with her to Unova.

This still leaves the grand majority of the Hisui Pokémon for the Sinnoh region to keep and conservate, as there were far to many for Akari to bond with each individual one. The only exceptions are over a third of the sneasels, and the entirety of the Zorua and Zoroark. For those pokemon No Akari means No Deal. Besides, Unova would likely have a better time handling the Zorua and Zoroark as I could see the dark type variants becoming the equivalent of when cheetahs are given emotional support dogs to help them with their anxiety.

Anyway! Akari will not be forced to leave her found family and will be supported by all her loved ones to give both her and Ingo the best chance of recovery. The airport reunion of the family after this separation is of course very emotional! Also Emmet insisted on making a giant Welcome Home sign.

#submas wanted au #Akari #Ingo #emmet #johanna #pokemon #submas

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malumsmermaid · 10 months

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I’d Do Anything B.C 10

Hi I’ve been working on this chapter since I adopted Hestia back in like August but work and life and shit has happened. I was going to work on one of my other WIPs but decided to actually finish this one. So...here it is.

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: None

Prev.

Calum was spending the afternoon with Michael, having finished up with his work early for once. Before leaving for his friend’s house he had made a good night call to Lily and Ashton, his two partners back in Australia working on a new deal. Calum was supposed to fly out and meet them in a few days-he had just had a few things he needed to wrap up at the office this week before he could join them. He was stressed and worn thin from his projects he’d been working on, as well as the interruptions from their employees-some with reasonable questions and requests-but others just adding to his to-do list. He did his best to push all of that down while he was on the call though, listening to and celebrating their little successes for the day and trying his best to pick out some sort of positive aspect to his day to share. He managed to pick something since they had last called, as well as expanded upon a few of their text conversations over the last couple days. He finally wrapped up their call, ushering his partners off to bed and telling them his plans to meet up with Michael and play a new game.

However, when he got to his friend’s house, it turned out his plan had done a complete 180, from sitting inside on the couch with controllers in hand to walking in the park and talking. Calum ended up doing most of the talking, everything spilling out the second Michael asked about his week. Michael listened intently, his gaze only straying from Calum to check his footing on the path.

Calum sighed, closing, “And I don’t want to burden Ash and Lil with this when they call. Like, it’s all part of running a company right? Like, especially since they’re having all these little wins and doing some fun stuff out there. Meanwhile I feel like I’m over here taking one step forward and three steps back with all these little side tasks. It’s just easier when they’re here because we can split them up-Lily’s especially good at figuring out where each of us is in our day and which of us, if any of us, is able to carry out that task. And it’s not like I don’t do that, like some of the things I’m like ‘maybe Ashley or Jaime are better people for this particular thing’ and either message them or send that person their way. But at the same time, I don’t want the people who have come to me to feel like I’m dismissing them or pawning the task off to someone else, but like…I’m just one person, y’know?”

Michael nodded, “You know, I’m always here to listen, but Lil and Ash worry about you when they’re away too and can tell when you’re holding stuff like this back.”

Calum hummed, “Yeah, but I don’t want them to feel bad about it or for me or whatever. Like, it’s not their fault that I got this idea for something that, as usual, ended up much larger than I expected and…wait, what made you say that last part?”

“Shit…I uh…fuck…”

“Mikey?”

Michael looked away, scuffing his shoe on the ground, “Lily may have texted me after you guys got off of the phone and mentioned that you seemed off and that she was worried, got the same text from Ashton like two seconds later.”

Michael jumped as Calum let out a laugh. “Can never hide anything from those two, even on the other side of the fucking ocean. To be fair I do feel a lot better now, maybe better than I would’ve just playing that game with you, even if I was really looking forward to it.”

“There’s still plenty of time in the day if we turn back now…” Michael said with a smirk.

Calum nodded, turning around on the path and beginning the trek back to Michael’s car.

As they were walking through the parking lot, a flash of movement between cars caught Calum’s attention. Then it came again, this time rushing across the section of the parking lot they were walking through, from one side to the other. “Kitten,” Calum gasped, just as the animal ran under a car that three people had just gotten into-its engine roaring to life.

Michael gasped too, both men rushing over to the car, trying to get the driver’s attention before they put the car in gear. They must’ve made quite the scene, the woman in the driver’s seat opening her window just a crack to see what the two large men wanted. “A kitten just ran under your car,” Michael explained, trying to catch his breath while Calum ducked under the car’s rear bumper to see where the kitten had gone. It froze and locked eyes with him, in the shadow of one of the front tires.

He started calling to the kitten, tapping at the gravel with his fingers to try and coax it over. Just as he began calling to the little cat, the car’s engine shut off and multiple feet hit the ground around the car. The kitten looked up at the car’s chassis, then around at all the legs surrounding the car before darting towards Calum. He took the kitten in his arms, capturing her and making sure he had a good grip before slowly beginning to wiggle back out from under the car. “Got it,” he grunted as he slowly began to sit up, handing the kitten to Michael so he could get to his feet. All three people from the car began to coo and cheer as they looked at the small animal in Michael’s arms while Calum dusted himself off.

“What now?” Michael questioned, looking at Calum.

“I…I don’t know,” Calum said, watching as the kitten squirmed in Michael’s hold. “I mean, I guess we go to the shelter, make sure she doesn’t belong to anyone?”

“We’re in the middle of a giant park, Cal…” Michael started.

“I know…but I mean, what else? Isn’t that what’s right?”

Michael hummed, conceding, and began to walk towards his car, “There’s one not far from here.”

Calum nodded, following after his friend.

~~~~

“Good afternoon, how can I help you two gentlemen?” Greeted the shelter’s receptionist.

“Yeah, uh, we were just at the park and caught this little kitten in the parking lot as she darted under the vehicle of another visitor who was preparing to leave,” Calum stated as Michael stepped forward, still holding the small cat.

“We just wanted to make sure that she was okay and that there isn’t anyone out there missing her.” Michael explained, holding the cat out for the receptionist to examine.

“Well, it is kitten season,” they replied, smiling as the cat pawed at the air between them, “and this little one looks just old enough to not need mom for food anymore, they probably wandered off on their own and got turned around. But we can definitely put them on stray hold, just in case. Let me just page our cattery attendant to get this little one checked in.”

They grabbed a walkie-talkie from their desk, calling to one of their coworkers elsewhere in the shelter to come up front. Michael and Calum took a seat against the window, Calum reaching over and gently rubbing between the kitten’s ears. The receptionist walked over and handed Calum a clipboard to fill out, a sticker with a series of numbers and letters in the top corner.

As he finished writing down his information and where they had been when they found the kitten, another person walked through the doorway from the back. She smiled, approaching the two men and greeted them, quietly reaching her hand out to take the kitten from Michael. Michael gave the kitten one last scratch before handing them over to the worker while Calum stood to hand the clipboard back.

When he turned back he caught sight of Michael staring wistfully through the doorway the kitten had been carried through. He wasn’t the only one to notice either, the receptionist saying, “We’ve had a lot of people bringing kittens in the last few days, you can foster that little one if you’d like.”

Michael immediately brightened, “Can I foster two? So it has a friend?”

Twenty minutes and more paperwork later, they were back in Michael’s car, trunk loaded with kitten food and cat litter, a carrier containing two kittens secure in the backseat. Calum was smiling, listening to the small animals mewling behind him. They were almost back to Michael’s house, when suddenly, next to a strip mall containing a petstore, Michael gasped, “They need toys!” He checked around him before pulling sharply to the right, entering the parking lot.

“I’ll stay in the car with the cats, no going crazy in there, just toys, no furniture unless you’re certain you’re going to keep them.” Calum teased.

Michael parked smiling, “No promises.”

Calum shook his head, watching as his friend hopped out of the car, jogging through the lot.

Not long after Michael had disappeared through the door, Calum felt his phone buzzing in his pocket. He pulled it out, half expecting a text from Michael asking for an opinion, surprised to instead see his girlfriend’s picture on his screen. “Aren’t you supposed to be asleep?” he asked as he answered, teasing lilt to his voice.

“I can’t,” Lily whispered, snuggled under a blanket on the couch, “Miss you.”

“Just a few more days and I’ll be there,” Calum tried to reassure, but he could feel his own heart aching.

“I hope I’m not interrupting your afternoon with Mikey…” She started, but was distracted by a loud meow behind Calum, “What’s that?”

“Oh, you’re not interrupting, our afternoon was already interrupted. We found one kitten, and now Michael is fostering two.”

Lily sat up, trying to contain a squeal to not wake their sleeping boyfriend in the other room. Calum grinned, launching into the tale as, as he anticipated, a picture text came from Michael in the background of the call.

~~~~~

As promised, a few days later, Calum strolled into the penthouse apartment in Australia. It had been a long day of travel, made even longer by a maintenance delay in Seoul, leaving Calum pacing the terminal as his gate changed four times before they finally were able to board. He had told Ashton and Lily not to wait up for him, his expected arrival time now closer to 3AM than 9PM and was glad to see that they had heeded him for once. He quietly set his backpack on the table, removed his shoes and quietly made his way to the bedroom. He brushed his teeth and washed his face before shedding the clothing he’d been wearing since the previous morning.

He smiled sleepily as he looked down at the bed, looking at his two partners. They had clearly been cuddling when they first went to bed, but had since separated, plenty of room between them for him to occupy. He carefully climbed over Ashton, who was facing the doorway, Lily facing the windows. He snuggled under the strewn blankets, pulling both of his partners to his chest. Neither woke, but they did both sigh, cuddling to him. Calum felt a smile on his face, kissing them each gently before closing his own eyes and finding sleep for himself, content to be surrounded by their warmth again.

#poly!cashton #calum hood #ashton irwin #michael clifford #calum 5sos #ashton 5sos #michael 5sos #cashton #calum hood x ashton irwin #calum hood x oc #ashton irwin x oc #calum hood fluff

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foxys-fantasy-tales · 1 year

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OC Kiss Week - Dance (JudithXChit or Chudith) It is 8pm and I am happy to have finished this little scene in time. I plan on inserting this into book two of Arigale in a few chapters time, but I kept it pretty spoiler free but for the ship, ya know, smooching. <3 You can read more below the cut! I should also have a kiss sketch for these two soon! Keep an eye out for it. I wanted to have it to post with this little scene, but so it goes I guess. (edited - Posted at end! Also have a new divider I just made in Canva!)

Chit stared forward through the thick foliage. If anything, Illene had taught them how great shrubbery and vines were to hide things. Judith was still a couple of steps behind him, which gave him just enough time to take a breath before he grabbed her hand and led her onward. His tail parted the plants and made way, but she still had a few twigs and leaves in her hair on the other side. She looked just like the day he met her.

“I-I um, made, or well foraged…this.”

Chit rubbed his head as his tail pointed toward a blanket straight from their room with a candle at each edge and a basket of berries along with roasted mushrooms and fish on sticks. The scent of fresh ash and firewood still clung nearby, but wisps of smoke from the small gathering of wood proved it had gone out. A full moon provided ample light, silver mixing with the hints of golden flames as she took a seat on the multicolored quilt. Chit sat at arm’s length with the basket in the middle with his great tail curled about him in a spiral.

Judith picked up a couple of skewers and began to alternate between mushrooms and fish without a word. The softness in her eyes, that was something that had changed, and it ripped out his heart to see it. Sparkles that once resided there were slowly returning, yet it felt like years and not months since he’d seen them. A large blackberry bursting with juices was speared by the tip of his tail and held up to her in offering. The appendage wavered, as did his resolve. Judith took it from him gently with her hand. He stuffed down any desires curling in his stomach that she took it with her lips.

“I know we’ve b-been at odds lately. I was hard on your training. It’s…I-It’s how I learned, but I should have listened that it wasn’t working for you. I’m sor-” A mushroom was shoved into his lips along with her forefinger and thumb.

“No need. I’ve been pretty rough to handle and I know it,” Judith interrupted.

“You’ve had more than enough reason to,” he argued.

“You have too. We’ve both been through it, but I didn’t make anything easier. Is…Is this a peace offering?”

He tucked his lips in under his teeth while a pit formed in his stomach. Of course it was obvious. The candles were a bad call, weren’t they?

“Only w-wished to make things up to you somewhat. The last time we tried to make time was in Stemoss and, well…” The memory still brought a pain to his gut. Rubbing didn’t help. Black eyes filled with every star in their reflective surface as he ducked from her gaze. Grass rustled as he wiped the juice from his tail there.

“And before that it was after I had just woken up from a very long nap.” Her hand entered his loose barrier and rested upon his knee. “We had fun there, but… I stressed you out again by wandering off. I’m not used to having someone look out for me so much, but I’m trying.”

“Y-Yes.” What else could he say? Chit fidgeted by flicking the tip of his tail around and alternating to spinning it in circles. He nearly reached liftoff when she leaned in to kiss his cheek. When was the last time? Did it matter now? Bit by bit, his tail uncoiled itself and fell behind him. “It’s alright, really.”

“You haven’t made it seem so, but… For now, can it be?” The soft bounce of her bushy hair met his shoulder before her weight settled over it. Hints of the fresh fruit, the ever present sea, and her usual yet strange touch of fresh carved wood and dirt made him feel as though he were bathing in the land itself. If not for the horrors, their forebears may have found this land to be pleasantly hospitable.

A crack of a twig shocked him to alertness again. A small shadow proved the source of the sound to be nothing more than the wildlife, what little there may be on the island. Judith’s hand moved from his leg to his back and clapped him.

“W-What was that for?”

“Too tense. We’ve both been. Come on!”

“Judith, what are you doing?” He was pulled to his feet as away from their meal to a barren patch of land just outside the candles’ glow. Her hands grasped at his and pulled him a couple unsteady steps nearer before she laid them on her hips.

“We’re dancing.”

The phrasing was so matter of fact he didn’t have a chance to argue, or to complain he didn’t know any real steps again. Just like that distant day where he was so relieved to see her alive, to see her smile and frolic about like nothing had happened, she took his shoulders and pulled him along in a dizzying twirl. Step for step, back on his right, then forward, back on left, she made it easy to follow. Where the first was nothing but a whirlwind, she’d calmed to a stiff breeze. She was the sort of clime he could sit forever in just to soak in her rays and a breath of fresh air. The smile she wore suited her better than any jewel.

“You’re beautiful.”

He didn’t know he was speaking until the words had slipped from his lips. Abrupt as it was, he hadn’t expected it to stall her so. Judith’s fanciful movements winded down into a close two step with bunched up elbows between them. With all they had been through together, these quiet moments spoke the loudest. Surely, this was to be a memory he could add to the treasures, few that they were, but precious.

His tail curled at her lower back to hold her near. He didn’t have to speak, to fumble, though his hands shook as he ran both through her long hair to rid her of some of the debris from their walk. Not yet. He didn’t want it to end, so he pulled her along to the right in a circle. Judith became the fulcrum, his anchor. Even as he grew farther and farther away and she fell to giggles at his attempts at improvisation, he knew he’d do it all again to hear her.

Judith wound herself up in his tail as she spun back to him. Chest to chest, the two breathed in near unison as the breeze stirred the greenery around them. No beat, no lyrics, yet he felt the stir music raised in a soul. She vibrated with it every day, but he’d grown too accustomed, too disinterested in the midst of the turmoil their lives became. Her cheeks were flushed with emotions he knew well now, yet he wanted to hear it once more. It would always be once more. What a frightening concept, yet, she was worth coming out from the dark.

“I love you,” he whispered.

The next steps led him back away. She did love a game. He was re-learning how to play. Judith gave chase with a grin and a sparkle back in her eyes. His hands were stolen into hers as she pulled and crossed one to her chest in a half turn. This time she circled around him in a much tighter motion. He jerked some as he was compelled to move with her from the tether of their hands, around and around in circles, the two spun until Chit was dizzy and Judith’s laugh was their background noise. Skips, tugs, untraceable steps all became more common as she danced like the first time they danced.

He fell behind, leaving her on her own so he could watch a moment. Red strips of fabric spun around her long legs in a blur. No rhyme or reason were in her movements, but it flowed as easily as breathing for her. Out of breath as he was watching and chuckling, Chit ran back in. Judith jumped back half a step in bewilderment as he charged up close. His tail caught her back and pulled her in again. He’d meant to go for her shoulder with his hand to rejoin her, but the softness of her cheek brushed his skin instead. From there, one movement led to the next as if they had practiced more.

Gentle at first as he parted her lips with his own, yet the heat of the kiss carried down into his stomach. Judith’s hands found a spot to rest on his lower back over the spasms of his tail. Eager lips pressed in harder to his own. The tart, sweet taste of berries melded to his lips. His eyes welled, but he didn’t let it fall until the salt of her own tears turned the embrace that much sweeter. His thumb passed under her eye to wipe at the overflow, but he wouldn’t pull away.

Both had stilled for an indeterminable amount of time, but the moon still shone above when Judith pulled back to take a shaky breath and finish drying her eyes. Her smile quivered. He wished to cement it, but settled for stealing another kiss.

“I love you too,” she replied late. Her next kiss pushed his lips to his teeth as her arms wound around his back. He barely kept them upright with his tail, leaning back on it as a spring as they sank slowly to the cold ground below.

(Art by @fracturedfable - Twitter and dA)

#ockiss23 #oc kiss week #Arigale #Chudith #writeblr #writers on tumblr #indie author #ship art #fan art

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storiesaboutrachelcarolann · 1 year

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Updating my life!

It’s been a minute since I’ve wrote. A lot has happened in my life since I wrote the last post regarding my ventures, it’s been a crazy ride lemme tell you, but I wouldn’t have changed anything about these past few years if I could. All and all it’s taught me who I need to become and not who I want to become.

God/ Spirit has stepped into my life in many many ways over the last few years to simply get my attention. It’s best to be described as boom, boom, boom and then bang lol. It’s basically been pretty much the tower in the tarot. Anything that hasn’t been built on a solid foundation has been wiped clean, it’s like a big flash of lightning comes down from the sky and cracks me open straight down the middle of my core being. This happened to allow for fresh starts to begin and ultimately major for major healing of my whole self.

Change is hard to grasp sometimes as it’s different for everyone, but the main reason these tower moments keep happening is because a lot of us tend run and seek shelter in all the wrong places, with all the wrong people, etc.. the more we run from the inevitable or God/ Spirit the more he steps in and slams the breaks on, the more he’ll continue to put blocks in place such as the boom, boom, boom, bang moments it’s quite scary actually considering how powerful he really is. He is way stronger than any of us so here’s a bit of advice from this girl - listen the first time and stop trying to dodge the bullet so to speak it’ll be much easier in the long run.

There’s been many changes that have occurred and if I had listened the first time maybe I wouldn’t have had to have gone through so much emotionally, mentally and physically, but sitting here really thinking about it I probably wouldn’t have changed it in anyway because it all shaped me into who I am today at this moment in time.

The challenges aren’t meant to destroy you, they are however meant to show you how strong you really are when push comes to shove, when the path is dark and frightening never give up, that’s where you’ll find your strength to preserve forward and find out just who God/ Spirit really is. He has the ability to pull anyone from the ashes, but we all have to give him permission to, he does not just do it - we have to help him do so in all ways.

As many of you know I chose to put my horse down the end of September 2022, it was time. He was 26. I spent fifteen wonderful years with Chance and he lent me his wings for so long, he carried me through the fire of hell many times. It was time to give him back his wings because I had discovered I’d grown my own over the years. He’s still carrying me even though it’s no longer in the physical form I can feel him spiritually everyday lifting me up - as a reminder to never give up. Our journey together will never really have an end.

In the morning of July 14, 2022 I had saddled him up for the last time, but I didn’t know that at the time. I went to mount and as soon as my butt hit the saddle I had the worst pain ever imaginable surge through my whole body, still to this day I don’t know how I managed to ever dismount and get back to the barn to make a call for help. It must’ve been God carrying me. Everything seemed to be getting better up until the middle of October of 2022, I was walking right up until the 31st which happened to be Halloween. A week or so later I was finding it very hard to walk, I was practically crawling. Mama took me to hospital two times and they didn’t do much at all, they gave me pills and sent me home. I was forced to get myself a wheelchair to make it easier to manoeuvre around this house. I was sent for a series of tests.The MRI results showed what was going on, I have a whole bunch of “little” things going on, but the biggest problem of all is a herniated disk which is beyond severe, it’s located right above my butt crack, it’s cutting off nerves in my back which is causing me to not be able to use my legs as I once did. It’s like they are rubber noodles. I am waiting to see a surgeon in the city, hopefully that will happen soon so I can get my feet fully underneath me once again. I am stuck taking many medications for the time being which makes me feel like s*** if I am being honest here lol.

The series of events that I’ve been through just in the last year had really made me question God in a lot of ways, but sitting here right now writing this for all of you who will read this in the future I am going to call it “divine intervention” in a multitude of ways. It’s as if I wasn’t listening, I wanted change and I asked for it, I even screamed to God daily saying, “something has to give!” I knew something had to give, but I didn’t expect to have to put my horse down or my cat Oliver “Fat Meow” down in such a short time. I knew there was more going on then meets the eye with both of them, my intuition told me so.

Towers come into our lives to bring change, sometimes everything crashes and burns to the ground, but that’s so we can all start over in whatever way is fitting for each and everyone of you. All of our situations are different. My eyes are more open than they’ve ever been before my perspectives have changed on a lot of things in a few short months. In a few short days it seems I have gone from feeling sorry for myself to embracing this obstacle and I’m seeing it in a new light. It has changed my way of life. I have gone from being independent to having to rely on others to help me. This has forced me to ask for help, this has really shown me in my circle of friends, family members, who’s really got my back when I am in the dark. I’ve seen the light and the dark, but I am choosing the light from now on and what no longer serves me is being let go of it is being removed, God’s stepped in so I am able to find that sense of peace and fulfilment that I deserve.

I hope that everyone at some point can see the good in the bad, it’s always there, sometimes it’s found in the darkness in which many of us are scared to walk through. At some point you’ll be forced to do so, you’ll be forced to have a real good look at yourself and you won’t be able to run away from what you’ve always ran from. God steps into our lives in many ways, God has the reins, he’s steering the ship and going forward we’ll have no control what so ever. Accept that! Go with the flow you’ll be so glad that you did. It’s way easier trust me. You’ll find your light in the pitch black I promise you. I am not saying everything is going to be easy from here on out, but if you can just be patient, wait it out and do what God/ Spirit is asking you to do right now. You’ll discover vital information, this includes everything from coping mechanisms for overcoming anything that will be placed in front of you as an obstacle, etc..

There are rewards for those who never give up! You’ve got this! You’ll be okay! Remain strong my friends, keep fighting - find your strength that has been buried by the Devil for so long. It’ll be found in the rubble (the darkness).Darkness will not go where there’s light! Remember that!

Yours truly,

Rachel Smith

The Coastline Intuitive (on Facebook)

The Empress and her grand rise!

#god #discover #faith #obstacles #challenge #real life #spiritualjourney #spirituality #spirit #thecoastlineintuitiveonfacebook

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lol-im-done · 3 years

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The Avenger & Baron of Sokovia

Thank you so much to @sagyunaro for coming up with this idea! I wrote too much to fit into a one shot so I’m splitting this into two parts!

Part One:

Part Two:

You can find this on my A03 as well: Anti_Social_Teen

Word Count: 2,818

What happened that horrible day in Sokovia affected you more than any other mission you had been on in your time with the Avengers. You had seen death, had seen destruction, narrowly avoided it every second of your life but as you lay on the ground of Novi Grad that day, trying so hard to keep the chunk of Sokovia close to the ground with your telekinetic abilities it became too much. You vividly remembered placing yourself close to the middle of the rising piece of Earth that Ultron was going to use like an atomic bomb to wipe out billions of innocent lives.

“What are you doing?” Steve asked, running over to you.

“I’m going to try and put it back down!” you replied, standing your ground. Wanda had come over with her brother Pietro, watching you with interest.

“Isn’t that what FRIDAY explained to us. The higher it goes the bigger the blast radius,” you said. Steve nodded, worry filling his face but you gave him a brave smile. Closing your eyes in concentration, your hands filled with dark green energy, tendrils beginning to snake down into the ground as it continued to rise. “I got this! Go!” you instructed them. It had felt like hours, you had never pushed yourself to these limits before and couldn't stop yourself from falling to your knees before you knew it your body collapsed completely but you persisted, your whole body and the area around you glowing green. Vaguely you could hear the others try to reach you but you shook your head silently, tears streaming down your face in pain and frustration, blood seeping out of your nose as you remained glued to the ground.

The guilt of your weakness spread like a poison in your body, you weren't strong enough and by the end it didn't help when Novi Grad fell. They had told you that you had kept it at half the height it was supposed to be at, that your telekinetic energy had kept most of the big debris from falling but you ignored their voices of reason. It was Thor who had found you floating in the sea, passed out but cocooned by your powers. Numbness engulfed your body the instant you had awakened and you watched silently for the next few days as decisions were made on how the cleanup and relief would proceed. The answer became clear to you for what you needed to do next.

“You don’t have to stay,” Steve murmured, placing his hand on your shoulder in a reassuring manner.

“Who will I be if I don’t,” you replied sadly. Steve could see how much this meant to you, so he gave you a warm strong hug before walking off to the Quinjet to return to the Compound leaving you in Sokovia. The terms of your stay were strictly humanitarian, to help cleanup the destruction, your identity kept a secret. Only around official Stark Relief Foundation workers did you use your telekinetic powers in the worst part of the devastation. With a solemn look in your eyes you waved your hands, slowly lifting chunks of peoples homes, their belongings falling into the ash and rubble. After a few hours of this you would walk around, picking up trinkets, photos, anything you could recover. You’d return to your small apartment Tony had gotten you, and cleaned them as best you could with your kit of brushes before returning them to the main headquarters where refugees and survivors could seek help. It was only supposed to be a week but you stayed longer. It was mainly your guilt that kept you tied to Sokovia but soon you felt yourself growing connected to the suffering country. It was another day at the Stark Relief Foundation building, you were slowly picking up Sokovian, Wanda had even facetimed you for a few hours each night trying to teach you some phrases. It was mostly silent, somber in this wing of the building where survivors would arrive, where recovered bodies were documented. Slowly your eyes caught sight of a distraught man a few feet away.

“He just found his family in the rubble,” Lana murmured to you, eyes glancing at the man who sat a few chairs away. She brought out a clipboard but you took it gently from her hands.

“I got this,” you replied and she gave you a grateful smile before walking off. With a sigh you walked over to the man, who was covered in dust.

“Hi. Ahoj,” your soft voice broke through the wall of silence the man had created around himself. It took him a few seconds to lift his head finally and the look of heartbreak on his face made a lump form in your throat.

“My name is (Y/N). I’m a volunteer and I’m going to help you fill out some forms,” you said, taking a seat next to him. “English or Sokovian?” you asked. “English is fine,” he finally spoke, coughing to clear his throat. Giving him a sympathetic look, you passed him a handkerchief from your pocket which he took gratefully.

“I know this is a difficult time but I’m here to help with whatever you need. We will help you find shelter, get food and financial assistance and help with the death certificates of your family,” you explained. The way you spoke to him was unusual, straightforward but kind. It was the custom to speak formally almost coldly to strangers, but there was a softness in your eyes. “So what is your name?” you asked.

“Zemo. Helmut Zemo,” he replied. Giving him a small smile you brought out your pen and got to work. In the next few days you came to realize that Helmut Zemo was not just any ordinary citizen, he was a Baron. Even as Sokovia continued to crumble at the institutional level, Helmut played an active part in donating funds to the local organizations. He became a familiar face, always an active presence during the day and after a few weeks of working together you could comfortably call him a friend. You still didn’t reveal your true identity, there was a growing sentiment from some in Sokovia against the Avengers but overall most people were grateful you all had saved the world. You still struggled with guilt of course but things were becoming easier. Spending time with Helmut was peaceful, he would often read aloud to you when you spent time at each other's apartments after a long day of work. Even with his wealth he chose a modest apartment a few blocks from yours. Things always remained strictly friendly, both of you keeping conversations light and rarely bringing up your origins or past life. It became a comfort to listen to his Sokovian accent, look into those captivating brown eyes. Helmut often felt the start of a warm feeling in his chest when he heard your airy laugh after his terrible jokes but he forced himself to suppress the feeling. Just when you thought it would be a good idea to open up to him, to begin to reveal your true identity that was all shattered the moment you entered his apartment one evening.

It was dark, only the crackling fire from the fireplace providing a light source. He stood back turned to you, hunched over the fire a glass of whiskey clenched in his hand.

“Helmut?” you whispered, closing the door softly behind you so as to not startle him.

“You’re an Avenger,” Helmut whispered, and when he turned around you saw something in his eyes you had never seen before. Anger and hatred, it was amplified by the reflection of flames in his eyes.

“Who told you?” you asked, trying to stay calm but your heart pounded beneath your shirt.

“I heard the Stark Relief Foundation workers talking about you. How Stark was coming to visit you soon,” he sneered. “Is it true?” Helmut asked. Wordlessly you lifted your hand twisting it summoning your telekinetic energy. That was all he needed, he began shaking his head a dark laugh coming from his mouth. “What is this then? Why are you here?” Zemo snapped, pacing close to the fireplace.

“I stayed to help,” you began but he threw his glass against the wall, shattering the glass cup. It stunned you, making you jump in place.

“Help,” he said coldly.

“Helmut please let me explain-,” you tried to say, your voice wavering with emotion.

“No! You played a part in it! You’re the reason why my family is dead!” Helmut screamed. Those last words hit you like a slap in the face, face falling as your heart seemed to crack right down the middle. It felt like all the air had been sucked from the room and before you knew it all the guilt and shame and memories hit you like a ton of bricks. There was no use in trying to say something, when you opened your mouth no words came out. Helmut made no attempt to move towards you, no attempt to take back his words as you turned away and stumbled out of the door. Heavy sobs began to slip out of your mouth, as memories flashed in your head, the screams of the innocent civilians, the bodies of the dead. Through tears you made your way back to your apartment, packed and left Sokovia that same night.

You didn’t return to the Compound after that, choosing to stay in Switzerland in a home that Tony owned and had let you stay in. He felt for you, as did the others on the team as much as they wanted you to return to them. This is where you stayed in solitude and when the Accords were announced you had made no attempt to be a part of the rift between Steve and Tony. You thought it was ridiculous and when you were summoned by Ross you ignored the summons and remained secluded. It wasn’t until it was all over that you were granted a loose term of conditions to keep your freedom even though you hadn’t done anything. It shocked you, when you found out what Helmut had done, the plan he orchestrated. How could the kind man from Sokovia become so full of hatred and vengeance? You knew his wife, son and father had died. You had been the one to fill out their death certificates but never could you imagine it would end like this. He was often on your mind as best as you tried to shake him off but he had made an impact on your life. It wasn’t until one sunny morning that you received an unexpected call.

“Hello?” you answered the phone as you stirred the sugar into your tea.

“Is this (Y/N) (L/N)?,” the German voice asked.

“Yes. Who are you?” you asked a bit suspiciously.

“I’m Warden of the Berlin Detention Center where Helmut Zemo is being kept. He’s asked to meet with you and we would normally deny this request but seeing as you are an Avenger-,” the Warden began but you cut him off.

“I was an Avenger,” you corrected but he continued.

“It is up to you if you would like to see him. If not I can tell him his request was denied,” he finished. A strange feeling filled you, why bother seeing him? He hated you, tore your family apart in revenge. But then you thought about the hurt and pain you both faced in Sokovia.

“I’ll be there in 48 hours,” you finally said into the phone. Even after he had hung up you stayed there by the kitchen counter, tears silently flowing down your cheeks.

Following the armed guards you clutched your purse tightly, the nerves finally hitting you at what you were about to do. It felt like you were in a dream as the door slid open, revealing a dark cell with a glass wall and a chair in front of it. There was no movement from the cell as you sat down on the chair they provided you, you actively avoided Helmut’s gaze, setting your bag down. You kept your eyes trained on the piece of lint on your jeans until he finally spoke up breaking the silence, but there was tension.

“Will you not look at me (Y/N)?” that rich Sokovian voice that haunted your dreams asked.

“I didn’t think you’d want to look into the face of your family’s killer,” you said, the words sounded harsher than you intended. By the time you looked up to meet his eyes, Helmut’s face was a vision of regret.

“I should have never said those things to you,” Helmut said, coming closer to the wall that separated him from you. He looked differently from the last time you had seen him, he looked defeated. His chestnut hair was tousled, stubble beginning to grow on his jawline.

“Yet you did and never gave me a chance to explain,” you snapped crossing your arms.

“My anger was misplaced. I see that now,” Helmut began. “I saw the footage, what they had recovered. The way you tried to save Novi Grad,” Helmut said, emotion filling his voice.

“We tried to save Novi Grad,” you interrupted, even if you could see how the Avengers held responsibility, you weren’t going to allow him to slander your family. Helmut grimaced at your words. “Why did you ask me here?” you snapped, eyes hardening. Helmut inched closer to the glass, nervously running his hands through his hair.

“I’ve been contemplating what I’ve done. I realized that even if you had not been involved I hurt you and you didn’t deserve that especially after what I did to you in Sokovia,” Helmut said. Lifting your brow you allowed him to continue.“If you let me I would like to explain myself, not excuse myself. I want to tell you everything,” Helmut said. It felt like torture for Helmut, every second waiting for your response.

“Alright. I’ll listen,” you finally said, leaning back into your chair. The faintest smile filled Helmut’s face as he began his story. In the weeks and months that passed by, it became a weekly occurrence to meet him. Berlin wasn’t too far from where you resided in Switzerland, the train ride was a part of your weekly routine now. When Tony had called you, expressing his concern at your visitations you explained that this was purely rehabilitation, for both you and Helmut. He wasn’t entirely convinced but he couldn’t stop you, not even Steve when he tracked you down to talk to you.

“(Y/N),” Steve greeted, surprising you in the alleyway by your apartment. “Steve! Christ you scared me,” you snapped, holding a hand to your heart. Giving him a stern look he chuckled.

“Are you going to see Zemo?” Steve asked.

“Yes. Are you here to try and stop me?” you asked, tilting your head.

“I just want to make sure he’s not using you, manipulating you,” Steve sighed. “Don’t you trust me Steve?” you asked, stepping closer to him.

“I don’t trust him,” Steve replied.

“He was in the wrong. I know that Steve but everyone deserves a chance to explain themselves, a second chance. You of all people should understand that,” you said. Steve stared down at you with those intense blue eyes but he knew you were right. Giving you a strong hug he retreated back into the shadows.

“What are you thinking of miláčik?” Helmut whispered one day as you listened to him read a book on Russian history. History was something you both enjoyed so you would bring books every week for him. Heat rose in your cheeks at the way he called you darling but you shrugged.

“How much I enjoy spending time with you. Even in this prison,” you murmured. Helmut smiled, feeling a joy he seldom felt since his family had perished.

“I wish there wasn’t this glass between us,” Helmut said, but his tone surprised you. It was almost sad, and when you met his eyes there was something new in them. This was your chance, to admit your growing feelings for Helmut. Helmut watched you lean forward, giving him a closer view of your face. It was constantly in his dreams, your eyes his new favorite color.

“Helmut I-,” you began to say, eyes full of adoration and sincerity but the words became stuck in your throat. Helmut’s confusion at your loss of words turned into horror as you slowly became dust, eyes wide with fear. The last thing he saw was your glowing green hand outstretched trying to reach him as he slammed his body against the glass, voice screaming your name until you were nothing. He was stuck in his cell of helplessness and loss, and that is how he stayed for five more years.

#helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo #imagine #fatws #zemo x reader #helmut zemo imagine

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zodiakuroo · 3 years

Text

Cupid’s Bullet

Dabi comes home with a very special Valentine’s Day surprise for you.

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader

Contains: dubcon/noncon, mentions of death, unhealthy relationship, gun play, fear play, forced orgasms, squirting, mindbreak, angst (if you squint?), quirk usage, one slap but it’s a hard one :3, overstimulation, creampie

Word count: 5.3k

Notes: pls this title is so cringe but it's like bullet instead of arrow cause... ya know but anyways happy valentine’s day from scumbag boyfie!dabi

Dating a villain meant that your relationship was unconventional to say the least. For one, public dates were out of the question, unless you wanted it to end in destruction of public property and some scorched heroes. You also always had to have some kind of flimsy excuse for your family and friends when they asked to meet your elusive boyfriend. In addition, you had to accept the fact that he would have to disappear sometimes for weeks on end to do his boss’ bidding.

There was also the small matter of arson, murder and theft and a multitude of other crimes that you’d prefer not to know about. And while you weren’t necessarily okay with a lot of what Dabi did, you loved him. You loved him so much that turning a blind eye was so easy it made you question your own morality. He didn’t scare you either. Not in the slightest, because you knew in his own special way, he loved you too.

In fact it ran much deeper than that. On his worst days, Dabi could set the world ablaze until nothing was left because in the end he didn’t care about anyone or anything, not even himself. Until he met you, he says. He tells you that in you, he’s found something to tether him to this existence.

Ok so maybe he didn’t use those words exactly, but he doesn’t have to. You know that’s what he means when he spoils you with expensive, stolen clothes and jewellery, when he offers to burn alive any person who makes you even the tiniest bit upset and when he comes home to you bloodied and beaten, trusting you to take care of him.

In summary, your relationship forced you to give up on having any “normal couple” experiences. That included, celebrating anniversaries and silly holidays like Valentine’s Day so you never bothered to keep track of them. It could hardly be considered a sacrifice when you compared those things to what you actually got from your relationship.

Dabi had been gone for close to a month now and you didn’t expect him back anytime soon, not knowing where he was or what he was doing. In fact the very last thing you expected was for him to creep into your bedroom in the middle of night and rouse you from your peaceful sleep with a soft kiss on your temple.

You don’t jump out of bed in a panic, like any sane person would. Instead you let out a satisfied hum, surrounded by the scent of burnt flesh, ash and menthol, feeling warmth bloom in your chest. It should be unpleasant but its Dabi’s scent and you’ve missed it. You’ve missed him. You pick your phone up from your night stand, squinting your eyes at the bright light that makes them sting.

Sunday 14 February, 2:43am

“Welcome home.” You mumble groggily, trying your best to fight off your tired body urging you to go back to sleep.

Instead of replying, he greets you by pressing his mouth to yours. You let out a quiet gasp, startled by the sudden display of affection. His lips are chapped but that doesn’t matter, your tongue darts out to moisten them before your lips lock into a gentle kiss.

You reach up, weaving your hands through his dark hair in an attempt to draw him closer but he retreats, opting instead to turn on the bedside lamp but keeping his other hand behind his back. “Sit up doll. Got a surprise for ya.”

Any thoughts of sleep were long forgotten as soon as his lips met yours but now he’s really piqued your interest. You push yourself up against the headboard and sit cross-legged. You look up at Dabi expectantly. Your boyfriend is smiling wide, skin pulled so taut you think one of his staples might give out. He reveals to you what he has hidden behind his back. A square black box, wrapped in a cobalt satin ribbon.

It’s so cliché you can’t help but let out a small snort. “What is it?”

“It’s a gift. You know… for Valentine’s Day?” He says as though it should be obvious to you.

Your heart swells at the gesture. It really was a surprise. Not in a bad way, you just knew he wasn’t your average boyfriend and that was okay. You didn’t want him to be.

“Well now I feel awful. I didn’t get you anything.” You pout as he props the box onto your lap.

“’S like a toy… so it’s technically for you but kinda for both of us.” It’s unusual to see Dabi this excited. The way he’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, eyes filled with mirth makes you all the more curious.

“Like a sex toy?” A giggle escapes you as you undo the bow.

“Are we playing fuckin’ 20 questions? Just open it.” He presses you.

You huff at his impatience but you don’t comment, not wanting to wait any longer either. You remove the lid of the box only to find something wildly unexpected.

A revolver?

You look up at your boyfriend with confusion etched on your face but his gleeful grin doesn’t falter. You’ve never seen a sex toy like this so you pick up the article to test its weight. It’s definitely the real deal.

“Dabi, this isn’t a toy.” You state matter-of-factly.

He merely rolls his eyes and says “Doll, when you can incinerate someone with a flick of your wrist, that little thing is definitely considered a toy?”

“O-okay? What do you want to do with it?” You ask, placing offending object onto your nightstand, not really wanting to hold on to it anymore, the metallic smell making you feel queasy.

“Ever heard of Russian Roulette?” Dabi, picks up the abandoned item, looking down at it with pride.

“What?” You furrow your eyebrows as nervousness starts to creep into your system and you instinctively move to back away from him but Dabi is quick to pull you back.

“It’s real easy doll. No need to look so scared.” He crawls on top of you, caging you in with his limbs. “6 chambers. 1 bullet. All you have to do is be a good girl for me. If not, I pull the trigger and we see what happens.”

The look on his face is positively demented. Azure eyes wide and bright, patchwork face contorted into a a sinister smile, white teeth and silver staples gleaming in the dim light.

“Baby,” you hope the pet name will placate him. It usually does. “I don’t know about thi-“

CLICK

You let out a shriek as your body jolts in fear but you’re unable to move with his weight pressing on top of you.

“You see now doll?” He clicks his tongue behind his teeth. “You’ve gone and wasted a shot.”

Dabi climbs off of you and you’re left lying there with your heart hammering violently in your chest, body trembling, still reeling from the shock of what just happened. Reeling from the shock of what is happening

“You gonna listen now? Gonna be good?” Dabi prompts, rolling the gun around in his hand.

All you can do is nod as your eyes being to water. The uneasy feeling in your stomach only grows worse as your mind races with the possible things Dabi has in store for you.

“Good. Now strip.” He command and like a good girl, you obey.

Your arms feel like they’re made of lead, moving rigidly to take off your shirt (one of Dabi’s old ones). You can’t stop the tears from falling as you pull down your panties, fat droplets roll down your cheeks, desperately trying to swallow the sounds of your sobbing.

This can’t be happening. It’s Dabi. He wouldn’t hurt you. He promised you that.

“Oh cut the fuckin’ waterworks.” He snaps. “As long as you listen, you’ll be fine.”

You try to calm yourself with deep breaths, not wanting to irritate him any further.

When you turn to face him, he’s leaning back on his haunches, one hand resting on his thigh, the other lazily gripping the revolver. “Fair warning, I’m more of a ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ kinda guy. But you know that already.” He thumbs the cylinder, making it spin. “Now, touch yourself for me.”

Breathing is difficult. No matter how much you try, it’s like you can’t get enough air into your lungs. Thinking only of gun in your boyfriend’s hand, you still you bring your own hand between your legs, but you can’t concentrate, what with the dread taking over your body making it tough to have any control of your body. Your movements are stiff and apparently not up to Dabi’s standards.

He only scoffs before-

CLICK

You scream again, body nearly flying off the bed before you curl yourself up into a ball. The fright is enough to stop your heart. For a second you believe it has.

“Doll,” Dabi’s gruff voice brings you back to earth, reminding you that you’re very much alive and whether or not you stay that way is entirely up to him. “You’re ruining my surprise. Got it ‘specially for you and now you’re being a brat.” He quirks an eyebrow at you, almost like a challenge.

“So-sorry.-“ your voice breaks. “I’ll be good.”

You’re still struggling to comprehend how any of this is real. You thought you knew him. You thought he loved you. And here he is, treating your life like it’s a game. You can’t help but think that this is your own fault. You thought you were above everyone else, the exception to your boyfriend’s villain behaviour.

“Yeah?” His voice drops to a whisper. “Then show me.” He challenges you. Dabi slips off his t-shirt and moves between your legs to get a better view, pressing on your knees to split them apart.

Self-preservation kicks in. There is one way out of this alive and that’s doing what he says. You spread yourself even wider, showing him all of you. Your hands, glide over your smooth thighs, kneading the pudgy flesh as you get closer and closer your sex, teasing yourself the way he would. Your fingers find your clit and just a little pressure makes your eyes melt shut. Probably for best anyway. It makes it easier to imagine anything but this. You drag those fingers through your delicate folds, letting out breathy sighs as heat begins to bloom between your thighs.

You pretend, its Dabi’s touch. In your mind’s eye you see the two of you, limbs tangled with Dabi on top, resting his forehead against yours. It’s one of those nights where he wants to go slow. So slow that the sensation of his cock dragging in and out of is you bordering on torturous. It’s one of those nights where he wants to lay his head on your chest, mouthing at your breasts, laving your nipples with his wet tongue while you tell him, in that sensual voice that you love him, that he’s perfect, that he’s yours. Because it’s one of those nights, where everything feels like too much for him and the only person that he really has on his side is you.

It’s not long before you’re leaking. Somewhere, deep in the back of your mind, there’s a voice chastising you for being so easy for him… even now. There’s almost no resistance as two of your fingers, press into your entrance. Your fingers are no match for Dabi’s, they never hit all those deep, hidden spots that make you see stars but still, you start to move them slowly, brushing your thumb over your clit every so often.

“Look at me.” You feel his breath waft over your pussy.

Eyelids fluttering open and you meet his gaze. It stuns you a little and your hands come to a standstill. He is handsome, breathtakingly so, even though he thinks you’re lying whenever you when you tell him that. The way he stares at you, with love and adoration in his eyes, it’s almost like the fantasy you were just imagining. Almost like the fantasy you’ve been living in this whole time. It’s enough to make you forget the situation you’re in. Then the muzzle of the gun is pressed to your clit, snapping you back to reality fast enough to give you whiplash.

“Fucking slut.” He growls and smacks your hand away from your pussy.

You jerk as he starts to move it the gun circles over your sensitive nub and then dipping down to your tight slit to gather up your juices.

“All those fuckin’ tears but look how wet you are.” He says more to himself than you as he admires the way your slick leaves a sheen on the barrel. With his eyes trained directly on yours, his perfectly pink tongue pokes out to lick it clean, groaning at the taste.

The next thing you know his arms are wrapped around your legs, guiding them over his broad shoulders. He kisses you on your mons before his tongue begins greedily lapping at your hole. “Tastes so good doll.” He mutters with his nose pressed against your clit. He slips the wet muscle inside of you making you whine. You reflexively grab onto his black hair, tugging on the stands and he lets out a groan of approval. He moves up to your clit, circling it with his tongue before suckling on it. While he brushes just the tip of a finger over your cunt, making it clench around nothing while you desperately buck your hips, in an attempt to have it inside you.

The way he’s eating you out is almost romantic?

Or it would be, if it weren’t for the metal digging into your flesh.

“Doll,” He places a sloppy kiss on your clit, lighting dragging his teeth over the hood. “Want you to squirt for me.”

A lump forms in your throat. You can count on one hand the amount of times that has happened. You’re not sure of the odds that you’d be able to right now and it’s not a gamble you’re willing to take. “Dabi, I don’t think I can….”

CLICK

You thrash, screaming so loud it makes your throat burn.

Dabi still holds you open, keeping you in place. “I wasn’t asking.” He makes sure to maintain eye contact as he drops a fat glob of spit right on to your clit before diving face first into your cunt once again.

He pushes 2 of his long, lithe fingers into your tight entrance. It’s unexpected and you wince. He drags his right hand (the one holding the gun) up your torso, resting the muzzle underneath your breast, right over your racing heart. A reminder of what’s at stake. He envelopes your sensitive clit with his lips, moving his fingers in tandem with the suction. You’re consumed by desire as Dabi brings you so close to the edge.

“Dee-Deeper please.” Your pant out.

He smiles against your mound before complying with your request. “Right here?” His fingers press against that squishy patch deep inside you and your eyes roll back.

“Nnnggg yeah.” You’re barely able to mewl out. You dig your heels into his back and grind against his face, chasing your high. Dabi keeps hitting that spot with astonishing precision but you hold off for as long as you can, letting the pleasurable sensation build until the pressure in your core becomes unbearable. When it finally snaps because you can’t hold it anymore, your eyes squeeze shut, hands flying to his biceps and you dig your nails into the sinewy muscle. You gush around his fingers and all over his face. Dabi doesn’t move though, flicking your clit with his tongue repeatedly until you’re trembling and whimpering, pushing him away from your pussy. He finally relents, a pop echoing around the room as he lets go of you.

He gives you a predatory look, scared face and chest wet with the remnants of your orgasm. “You made such a mess baby but I’m glad you’re finally having fun.” He’s just as out of breath as you are but far more composed.

Your head is still fuzzy and limbs are still twitching but your boyfriend doesn’t let you recover. “C’mon, doll. My turn.” He begins to undo his belt, silver buckle clinking as he rushes to drag it through the loops of his jeans

You pull yourself on to all fours, now eye level with his crotch. He pulls down his pants and boxers in one go, his erection almost hitting you in the face.

“You’ve been lucky so far.” He taps the bulbous head of his cock on your lips, smearing your lips with the pre that dribbles out of it. “But I wouldn’t test it if I were you. Open.”

Your mouth is already watering at the sight of him. So long, thick and veiny. It’s disgusting actually, this Pavlovian response. He fucks you deeper, stretches you wider and makes you feel better than anyone ever had. You wonder briefly, if anyone ever could fuck you as good as Dabi.

You stick out your tongue and he slides himself between your lips, groaning as he pushes into your mouth, slowly, inch by inch. He fills your mouth completely and you shut your eyes, savouring the salty taste of him but you feel the muzzle press against your temple and making them shoot open. “Atta girl. Lemme see those pretty eyes.” He grunts as he plunges into your throat. You bob your head up and down his shaft, the hand at the back of your head setting a brutal pace. The room is filled with the sounds of you gagging and his hefty sac smacking against your chin.

“So good to me baby.” He tilts his head back, losing himself in the pleasure. The wet heat of your mouth surrounding him while your saliva leaks out, dripping down his balls. Dabi is big and heavy, stretching you so wide and making you jaw ache from the weight of him. You’re already lightheaded from the lack of air, no matter how much you try breathing through your nose. You don’t dare to complain though.

He pulls out of your mouth slowly, stretching a string of saliva from the head of his dick to your tongue that’s hanging out of your mouth. You pant like a bitch attempting to catch your breath. He doesn’t give you much time before he’s in your throat again, back to fucking your face.

“I love you so much. You love me?” He sounds so sweet, totally blissed out.

He stops thrusting and tilts your head up to look at him, blinking tear-clumped lashes. You try utter a ‘Yes, I love you.’ but with his shaft gagging you, it comes out all garbled. The muscles in your throat convulse around the deep intrusion. “You’d do anything for me right?” He asks, jabbing the muzzle even harder into your temple, finger resting lightly on the trigger. You nod, watching Dabi lose his composure bit by bit. “Yeah. That’s why you’re my girl.” He pushes himself even deeper inside you, making you finally take all of him, until your nose meets his pubic hair and holding you there. “Fuck.”

CLICK

“Hmmhhhhngggh” You squeal around him but you can’t pull off because of the grip he has on your scalp. When he lets you go you’re choking and coughing up a lewd mixture of spit and pre-cum.

“Wh- Why” You blubber, voice hoarse. You don’t understand. You were doing exactly what he asked. You were being good.

“Sorry baby. Felt so good, my finger slipped.” He doesn’t even try to hide his mischievous smirk. The fucker is definitely not sorry.

You want to beg him to stop this ridiculous game because you see now there’s no way you can win because Dabi doesn’t play fair.

He doesn’t give you the chance though, already shuffling off his bottoms all the way and propping himself up against the headboard. “C’mon pretty baby.” He tugs on your ankle. Wanna see you bounce on my dick.”

You clumsily position yourself atop his lap quickly, before you can even think about it. You know he doesn’t need a reason to pull that trigger but still, you don’t want to give him one.

He grinds his tip along your heat, piercings dragging across your clit over and over again. It’s something he does whenever you have sex, to rile you up. And just like all those other times, it’s working. Circumstances be damned. “Needa feel this hot little pussy. Give it to me doll.” He murmurs against the shell of your ear.

You nod as you lift yourself off of him to hover your dripping wet hole over his hard dick. You slowly squat down on onto him, the fat head stretching you out, burning with every inch you take. You mewl, making futile attempts to blink away tears. You get halfway before you have to stop, resting your hands on his shoulders trying to gain leverage. You’re outright crying now, wet droplets landing on Dabi’s chest.

“’S matter doll.”

I’m terrified. You yell in your head but stay silent, choosing to focus on relaxing your ever-tightening hole in order to take more of him.

“Oh, I know.” He coos, voice dripping with condescension. “’S too big for your tiny cunny.” He leans forward to kiss away the salty tears. “But you can take it. I know you can.” He cups your jaw, stroking your cheek with a calloused thumb. “You can do it for me”

You start to move slowly up and down, using gravity to force more of his monstrous cock inside you with shallow movements. You really are trying your best but that’s apparently not good enough for Dabi and he lets you know that by pressing the barrel of the gun into your stomach. You freeze, horrified, more tears start falling from your eyes. You open your mouth to beg him to just give you a little time. You’re trying.

“Quit being a baby and just take it.” He says before you even get the chance.

“I’m trying Dabi, please just-“

CLICK

He cuts off your plea. He’s not interested in your excuses.

The rotation of the cylinder sends vibrations through your abdomen. Amidst the shock, you release your grip on his shoulders and impale yourself on his shaft by mistake. The combination of the searing stretch and the blunt head of his cock kissing your cervix is so overwhelming that you collapse forward, head falling on to your boyfriend’s chest. You feel the rumbles of his chuckles while he’s quite literally splitting you open.

“See? Knew you could. Just needed a little scare. Isn’t that right.” He rubs your back as if to comfort you. He lets out a low whistle. “But looks like you’re all out of chances doll. Now bounce.” He gives you a spank with an inhumanly warm hand, making you squeal and leaving your cheek tender.

Your hands find purchase on his shoulders again. Dabi’s sapphire eyes are practically glowing, daring you to be stupid enough to defy him one more time.

You pull off almost entirely, keeping just his tip inside of you, before spearing his shaft into you again.

“Good girl.” When he praises you with that raspy voice makes you keen and desperate for more of it.

His hand snakes its way up your torso to cup one of your breasts. Your back arches, pushing into his scorching hot touch, forgetting momentarily about his other hand and what he’s holding in it. He gropes your chest, tweaks and twists at your nipples, leaving red, inflamed hand prints in his wake. You’re practically delirious with pleasure, babbling out incoherent streams of his name along with “yes” and “more”. All the while, he murmurs praises about how good you are and how much he loves you. It’s confusing and you can’t process any of it.

“Who owns this perfect pussy?”

“Dabi. Fuck. Dabi.” Your tongue lolls out of your mouth in the most obscene way, drooling down your chin. Your plush walls pulse around him as he hits that sensitive spot every time you sink down on him.

“That’s right it’s all fuckin mine. My pretty baby.” Dabi’s eyes are focus on where your two bodies are connected watching the translucent ring of your cream appear and disappear as you ride him.

“Preeeettyyy.” You slur and he laughs at how fucked out you are, brain completely jumbled between the fear, the pain and the bliss all combined into ecstasy.

“Doll.” He groans. “I feel ya squeezin’ me. You gonna cum?”

He’s right. You nod as you feel that coil tightening again, threatening to snap at any second. The man finally starts putting in work, pounding into you every time you pull off of him. Dabi abandons the gun in favour of playing with your clit, rubbing quick sloppy circles. “Yeah? Gonna cream and gush around me? Want you to baby.” He buries his head in the crook of your neck, sucking, biting and licking while he assaults your sopping wet pussy. “C’mon doll, please.”

With that you orgasm. He grabs your hips pulling you flush against his thighs, fucking you through your orgasm, rolling his hips up into you until your high finally subsides.

He doesn’t let you catch your breath before he’s got the revolver pressed hard underneath your chin. “Now make me cum.” You almost collapse but the harsh grip he has on your hair suspends you upright.

Your mind is so foggy and Dabi gives you a small smile, appreciating the perplexed look in your droopy eyes. But he’s not done with you yet.

“Hey.” You’re ripped from your daze, when he slaps you across the face, sending your head swinging to the side. “Don’t pass out on me now.”

“So-sorry! ‘M sorry!” You grovel as you slam your tired body down on his dick once again, trying to ignore the throbbing on your cheek, the ringing in your ears, and the ache in your battered cunt. You’re so sensitive from your last orgasm but you don’t have a choice and you don’t dare deny him anything. Your thighs are quaking and burning with every movement but your boyfriend is unimpressed.

“You can do better than that doll.” He lets out a bitter laugh, enjoying every second of tormenting you. “It’s like you want your brains splattered on the ceiling.”

You start crying again, shaking your head frantically. In the time that you’ve been with Dabi, you’ve learned certain tricks, you know he likes it, but in this panic/lust induced frenzy, you can’t remember any of them. Instead, you bounce, mindlessly on him while your gummy walls clench tighter around him every time he nudges at your a-spot. Your legs are going numb from all the effort and you plop down, limp onto his lap, taking him to the hilt.

Dabi tsks at you, reminding you that you can’t rest just yet. You swivel your hips, grinding your pelvis against his while he’s buried deep in your wet heat. You pray to whatever deity is listening that he’s getting close, you’re not sure how much more you can take.

“If I don’t bust in the next 5 seconds.” His hand finds your clit again, you grind across his fingers has you rock against him. “Bang!” He emphasises the word by bringing a heated palm down on your ass.

A choked sob bubbles at the back of your throat, making him snicker

Hands pressed to his chest, you ride him like a woman possessed, the last bits of adrenaline kicking in. Your sloppy cunt squelches every time you drive yourself down on his cock just motivating you to fuck him harder.

“Five.” He grits out.

“Dabi, please!” But you’re met with icy, apathetic eyes staring back at you, feeling the terror that the rest of the city does when they so much as hear his name.

“Four.” He rubs your already raw clit, faster and you can feel another orgasm building, much quicker than your last two.

Your body feels so heavy but you can’t stop moving, not unless you want him to- “Please cum!” You beg. “Need your cum.”

“Three.”

He starts to fuck up into you again with unforgiving force.

“Wh-Why?!” is all you can manage as your mind starts to fog up again, the need to come becoming all the more urgent.

“Two.” He ignores your question, transfixed on your tits bounce in his face. You’re getting close to your third orgasm of the night and it seems Dabi is determined to get you there.

You still can’t believe this is real. You never thought that Dabi would treat you like this. You were supposed to be special.

Or at least that’s what he told you.

Moreover, you can’t believe how your own body is betraying you. You can’t believe you’re actually going to cum. Again.

“One.”

You cry out his name one last time, unsure if it’s out of fear or pleasure. You dig your nails into his arms again, in a feeble attempt to ground yourself as you cum around him. The orgasm that rips through you makes it difficult for you to be sure of anything.

What you are sure of is the fact that there was no bang or bullet.

Just one last CLICK (practically drowned out by your screaming) and the sensation of Dabi’s hot cum flooding your womb. He has a bruising grip on your hips, gun now discarded, and he ruts up into to making sure to stuff your cunt absolutely full of him. He begins to laugh as he softens inside you.

Your head is still spinning but once you’re able to push yourself off of him, you can finally make sense of what just happened.

He was fucking with you.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” You yell, using weak and quivering arms to throw pillows at him while you cry so hard it makes you dry heave.

Your asshole of a boyfriend starts cackling, clutching his abdomen as if he just pulled the world’s funniest prank while your heart is beating so hard and fast you think it might break through your ribcage.

“You should have seen your face. You were so fuckin’ scared.”

You become nauseous, feeling bile rising in your throat as you come to a sickening realisation.

This is not your Dabi. This is the Dabi that the rest of the world gets to see.

Evil, sadistic, merciless. This is the real Dabi.

You attempt to scramble off of the bed to get away from him, feeling overwhelmed by the humiliation. But Dabi grabs your wrist and yanks you into his chest, wrapping you up in his arms. A gesture you used to treasure but now it just made your skin crawl. “C’mon Doll you didn’t think I was being serious did you?”

You writhe in his hold, hitting against his hard, toned chest with pathetic fists. “Don’t be such a crybaby. It was just a joke.” He strokes your hair oh so tenderly. But you won’t fall for that again. Dabi is a villain through and through. You know that now.

It’s no use fighting him off though, all the fight in you is used up. You don’t know what else to do. So you do the easy thing: nuzzle your head into his chest, tremors rocking your body as you hiccup, while he holds you. That way you can pretend that you feel safe with him, just like you used to.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, doll. I love you.”

#dabi is just the worst huh #sorry about the angst i honestly don’t know how that happened #dark content #dark fic #mha smut #tw dubcon #bnha imagines #bnha smut #dabi imagine #dabi smut #dabi x reader #mha x reader #tw slapping #tw noncon #tw unhealthy relationship #tw gunplay #tw death mention

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

Text

I Did Not Sign Up For This

For @whumptober2021 day nine: presumed dead | tears

Ladies, gents, and nonbinary friends... Speak Out.

CW: Referenced presumed death of a teen child in the past, grief, BBU, referenced pet whump, some references to past noncon and torture, sheer badassery from Kauri and Chris

“Hey, sweetie.” Jennifer Harker sits down on the little bench, leaning back, closing her eyes. “It’s been a rough week. We missed a deadline at work, thanks to Charles. You remember Charles? He started a few months before you went to college.”

The leaves rustle in the tree above her, a breeze moving through them. Sometimes she tries to see it as a sign that he hears her, that he's listening, wherever he is now.

She looks up, watching a robin who is looking right back at her, its red breast visible, in contrast to the green summer leaves. It takes off in a flurry of brownish-gray wings, and she sighs, looking back at the small stone marker she keeps in the yard off to the side of her house.

If the neighbors hear her talking out here, well, they get it. They’ve lived here since before Liam was born, they knew him as well as anyone else did.

It's not the first time Jennifer Harker has spoken to her dead son like this.

“In any case, well. I’ll just say I’m glad he’s going to retire soon. I’m not sure how much longer I can take his nonsense. Bullshit, you’d have said, I think. Keira’s home now, did you know that? She’s here to help me pack up-... pack up some stuff. Put it in storage or something. Honestly, so much of it’s… it’s not like anyone’s going to need your old books.” She gives a little laugh, maybe too breathy. “Keira always says I hold on to too much of you. That I don’t admit you’re gone, but you know, I do, it’s just… I liked having the pieces of you still here. Honestly, I think... I think she's having problems with that boyfriend again. I keep telling her, she deserves better, but she just-... she can't see it. I think she still blames herself for what happened to you."

She swallows, her throat tightening. This many years later and the tears still heat in her eyes. She has to close them tightly and breathe, in and out, until the feeling fades.

“Anyway-... I shouldn't think about it. I might just tell her I put it in storage and... not. If I never get r-rid of anything, Lee-Lee, it’s like you’re still here, right? Like you could come home on break from school any second now. Like maybe it’s just… all been the world’s longest fucking bad dream-”

She groans, rubbing her hand over her forehead, slowly leaning forward. Her throat closes against her grief, which slams into her like a body blow.

They say it gets easier, but they don't tell you that it only does that to lie in wait for the next time. The whole universe within her revolts at what she is, a mother with one missing child.

She looks with blurry teary eyes towards the stone. She'd ordered the little marker because she couldn’t find any reason for a tombstone or even a grave, but she wanted something to visit. It’s just a stone rectangle, vertical, and she has his name carved into it, and a line from a poem he wrote in high school.

LIAM HARKER Do you fear the lack of love Or the way love will burn you alive and leave nothing but ashes behind? Then, at the very bottom, her own words:

You were worth the burning, Liam.

Keira told her it was a morbid thing, but Jennifer had loved that poem so much when Liam showed it to her, and more importantly, he had loved it. She couldn’t imagine any other words for his memorial.

“I’m sorry,” She apologizes to her dead son, or to the tree or the bird she scared away. A squirrel chitters nearby. A lawn mower drones somewhere in the background in the small town. “It’s just been a week. The… the anniversary’s getting closer, that’s always rough for me. You’d only been at school a little while when-... when you went missing. July and August… oh, I hate July and August. You spent all of July out with your friends getting in those last hurrahs before college, we moved you in, and then… then y-you were gone.”

She exhales, slowly, looking at the tree. Memorizing, as she has a hundred times, the pattern of the bark.

“You’ve been gone so long,” She says, softly. “What will I do once you’ve been gone longer than you were here, Liam? What do I do then? Keira wants me to sell the house and move, go somewhere smaller, easier to care for. It’s just me most days rattling around in there, but I can’t-... you wrote your name on the wall of your closet when you were five and a half. How can I-... how can I leave everything that’s left of you behind?”

She shifts around, turning to pull her book out of her purse where it sits beside her.

“Well. I don’t have to make that decision today. I’m going to read for a bit, honey. Do you mind if I sit here?”

He doesn’t answer, but she likes to think he wouldn’t mind if he were still here. They used to sit near each other for hours, each with a nose buried in a book. When he was little he’d snuggle in against her side and fall asleep like that reading, his hands slowly going lax, eyes drifting shut. When he was older, he’d dogear a page or two and she’d pretend not to notice.

As it is, Jennifer sits and reads, enjoying the peace and quiet of the small-town afternoon.

The front door slams open suddenly, making her jump and turn to look over her shoulder. Keira stands on the front porch, leaning on the railing. Her hair is a wild riot of black curls around her face and down her back, and her skin is paper-white except for bright red blotches in her cheeks. “Mom!”

There’s a tone in her voice that rings every damn Mom-alarm in Jennifer’s body and she’s on her feet immediately, closing her book. “What’s up, Kee? Is something wrong?”

“The, the TV… television… Mom, please, you have to come now!”

Before she can ask for clarification, Keira’s already disappeared right back into the house, and Jennifer grabs her purse and book, walking quickly over the lawn. Her mind races - it could be something like a terrorist attack or something, maybe, but it’s unlike Keira to act like that. She’s bitter, Jennifer’s only living child, but she’s also strangely calm.

Jennifer asked, once, what had happened to her previously anxious little girl. Keira had looked at her with the same bright blue eyes Liam had and answered, the worst thing that I can imagine happened when I was eighteen, Mom. My brother was abducted right in front of me and murdered and they never even found a body. Nothing scares me anymore. Nothing could possibly happen to me that’s worse than seeing him get put in that van and not being able to stop it.

The worst part is, Jennifer knows what she means.

Once you’ve lost a child - or a twin brother, the other half of your identity from birth - there just isn’t anything worse than that when it comes to the wound it tears into your soul.

She opens the door and walks inside, veering to the right. “Keira, talk to me, honey. What’s wrong? What’s on TV?”

Keira, standing white-faced with her hands pressed over her mouth, turns to look at her. Her blue eyes are ringed in panicked white. “I, I saw him, Mom,” She says, her voice shaking, weak, barely-there. “I saw him!”

“Saw him?” Jennifer blinks. “Saw who?”

“I swear, I swear I saw him just a second ago, I know it was him, I know it, I-I know it was him, I know-”

“Keira, for God’s sake, who?”

Keira turns to look back at the screen. “Mom, look, look, just look!”

Jennifer follows her gaze, noting dimly that she can see the little symbol for the summer Olympics at the bottom right of the screen. There’s a redhead standing at a small podium, a young man a few years younger than her twins, with a wicked scar across his forehead.

He speaks, stammering through his words, while one of the Olympic athletes for the USA, one Jennifer vaguely recognizes as one of the gymnasts, holds onto one of his hands. There are others seated at the table, other athletes. A girl in a hijab with dark eyes that spit fire through the TV screen holds up a photo of a handsome young man with stubble and curly dark hair. A blond man holds a photo of a pretty girl smiling over one shoulder, what looks like a senior portrait for high school. Every single person at the table, she realizes, is holding a photo of someone.

Her eyes scan the uniforms - Canada, Iran, the UK, South Korea, Brazil, Australia, Mexico...

“We, we, we were stolen,” The young man at the podium says firmly, but even through the TV screen Jennifer can see his knuckles are white from how hard he’s holding onto his friend. “We were, so many of us were stolen. It’s, they lie. WRU lies. They, they, they lie. And, and I can prove it.”

There’s a screen behind him that lights up with a projected image.

On the screen is-

“Christ Almighty,” Jennifer breathes, and her heart hammers through her chest so hard she nearly feels life itself leave her.

It's Liam.

Her son, eighteen years old then, stares back at her in a black-and-white image, gagged and bound, glaring daggers at whoever took the photo. He has a bruise on his cheek and a heavy black collar around his neck, the white shirt and black shorts of the stereotypical WRU look from the movies.

Jennifer had always figured that bit was exaggerated.

Apparently not.

“Why-... why is he-”

“Mom, I saw him,” Keira whispers, and tears are running down her face. Jennifer slides her arms around her daughter, feels her head slowly move to lean against her mother. They stare at the screen together, memorizing this image of someone they haven’t seen in a decade, someone who died so, so long ago.

Or so they thought.

“I saw him in th-the crowd, I saw him,” Keira whimpers, her voice catching on a sob. “I saw him, I saw him, I saw-”

“Sssshhhh, it’s okay, sweetheart. It’s okay.”

“I, I, I can prove that WRU… lies,” The boy at the podium says again. “Because I, I, I can, I… can remember what happened to me.”

Another person steps out from behind the curtain that backs the table the athletes sit at. Short as she remembers, with a halo of wild black curls to rival Jennifer’s daughter, their father’s hair. She can see how blue his eyes are even through a screen and from a camera that isn’t anywhere close to him.

“My baby,” She whispers, and tightens her arms around Keira, who sobs beside her.

His voice has gotten deeper, but he still sounds like her son as Liam moves up to the microphone, stares into the screen, and says loudly, “And so can I.”

“Lee-Lee,” Keira whimpers. “It’s Liam, Mom, he’s-... I knew it, I knew i never felt him die, I knew it, I knew it I knew it I knew it!”

“My name is Kauri Grant,” He says at the podium. The redheaded boy holds his hand, now, while he speaks. The photo behind him changes to a later one, her son smiling in a pretty, placid sort of way next to a man Jennifer vaguely recognizes as some kind of movie bigwig, but not enough to place his name. “I was told I gave myself away, to be turned into the live-in lapdog for movie producer Owen Grant.”

The photo changes again. This time it’s a soundless video recording of the same WRU-uniformed version of Liam from before, fighting two of those WRU guards who forcefully subdue him. There’s no sound, sure, but Jennifer knows when the small screen body goes rigid and she sees his wide-open mouth that he’s screaming.

Back to another still photo, of Liam in a loose pair of black pants and a blue sweater with a white-gold jeweled collar around his neck, sitting in the lap of the celebrity - Owen Grant? - from before. Jennifer’s stomach turns in sudden disgust.

Her son was-

Had been living as-

“I escaped,” He keeps speaking, and Jennifer feels Keira beside her shivering as the two of them can’t take their eyes off the screen, off a ghost come back to life. “And I’ve been finding my way back from what they did to me ever since. I’m here today before WRU will tell you that I signed a contract, that I knew what I was doing, that I thought it was a better choice than whatever way I was living before. I’m here because WRU lies.”

“WRU lies,” The table full of athletes says in unison, some spitting, some nearly emotionless. All of them hold up the photos of the people in their hands.

“WRU, they, they lie,” The redhead says, tremulously, and Jennifer watches her son’s expression shift to tenderness, as he turns and whispers something to the redhead. The young man nods in return, and Liam smiles, soft and gentle. The two of them briefly lean in together, Liam’s forehead resting against the redhead’s.

He’s still whispering, although she can’t hear what he says.

His smile widens.

“That’s my baby,” Jennifer whispers. “That’s my baby’s smile.” She has a photo of a little boy with that exact brilliant shining smile, those sparkling blue eyes, holding up a wet leaf hanging off a stick while proudly declaring he'd been 'fishing' in mud puddles. When he was born, he and Keira, everyone had said their eyes would change color but no, they’d stayed that crystal blue. Both of them. And there he is, there’s his eyes, his smile, his expression, her dead son breathing and alive. “Please, please, please, Lee-Lee, please-”

He turns back and it’s like he’s looking directly at her through the screen, looking right at her, for the first time in ten years.

When she’d teared up hugging he and Keira after moving them into their dorms in college, he’d given her that look while saying, we’ll be okay, Mom. We’re going to be okay.

And then he wasn’t.

Then he wasn’t.

He wasn’t okay.

But God Almighty, he’s right there on TV and he’s okay now.

“WRU lied about everything,” He says, as the photo behind him changes to show him still wearing the clothes he’d gone missing in, lying insensible on the floor of some white featureless room. A man walks in, and again she doesn’t have to hear Liam to know he’s screaming as soon as the man grabs his wrists and forces them above his head, sitting heavily on his pelvis.

Keira, next to her, gasps. “Oh, my God,” She whispers. “Oh, my God. Oh, my god oh my god oh my god oh my god-”

Jennifer’s cell phone starts to ring. Then her home phone rings. Then Keira’s phone rings.

They don’t move.

They don’t even hear it.

The video shows the man slapping her son across the face, grinning like a demon down at his pain and fear. He twists free and throws a punch, connecting with the man’s cheek only to jerk his hand back and shake it out. Then he’s the one to take a punch, the back of his head smacking hard into tile before he goes still, dazed.

The video catches the WRU guard leaning slowly over him before it cuts out, back to the first photo with the bruising and the defiance in her son’s eyes.

“I am proof that WRU lies,” Her son says, strong and solid and god, he’s alive.

He pauses, and just like the first time when he was eight weeks old, Jennifer begins to cry at the sight of her son’s smile. Beside her, Keira is already crying, and they hold each other so tightly it would hurt if either of them could even begin to notice.

“I know exactly who I am,” He says, and his smile is brilliant and beautiful, his blue eyes sparkle, and Jennifer’s mind screams he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive. “I’m Kauri Grant, but I was someone else, before. My name was Liam Harker, and I did not sign up for this.”

The press conference, until now so silent a pin could drop, erupts in a sudden roar.

@burtlederp @finder-of-rings @endless-whump @astrobly @thefancydoughnut @newandfiguringitout @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @eatyourdamnpears @what-a-whump

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maddiwrites · 3 years

Text

Secret Lives

Pairing: JJ Maybank x reader

Summary: You and JJ never got along so your friends trap the two of you on a boat in the middle of the marsh to work it out. Only it doesn’t go as planned.

Note: Hi guys! This is my first writing piece. I tried not to do a two parter for my first one but it ended up being so long. Sorry! I would love to hear your feedback so feel free to leave me a message! Part two will be posted soon. Also I have completed a rewrite of the show with a JJ x Routledge sister pairing so keep an eye out for that! Also wanna shout out @skiesofthesketchy @malfoyfarms @collecting-stories because they were some of the first masterlists I read and I loved them and it inspired me to write my own. So thank you!

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: Language, angst, very slight mentions of abuse

Part 2

Y/N Y/L/N. That’s you. Or as some like to call you, Hannah Montana. You live the best of both worlds, living it up on Figure Eight and wearing hundred dollar dresses to fancy dinners and parties, sneaking expensive mimosas to brunches with your friends, and getting biweekly mani pedi’s with your sister. Meanwhile, when you’re not rolling around in the luxuries of Kook Life, you’re rolling around in the dirt with your Pogue friends, baking in the sun on a dirty small boat while drinking the cheapest beer one of the boys’ could get their hands on. Most Kooks hated you even when they wanted to be you. And most Pogues didn’t trust you even as they tried getting in your pants.

One of them being JJ Maybank.

Kiara introduced you to her group of friends right after freshman year. The two of you were the black sheep of Kook Academy. Both your families have money, sure. But you weren’t jerks about it. You enjoy a little pampering here and there, but you’re not tone deaf and superficial like the rest of your peers. You were so grateful that your science teacher paired you two together for that year’s science fair. You instantly clicked with the curly brunette and spent most of the class talking about whatever came to mind instead of actually brainstorming project ideas. After working together for months on a science fair project with a shared passion of wanting to help save the environment, Kie finally introduced you to her best friends.

John B and Pope immediately made you feel like one of the group. Sure, they were curious about your life but you never felt like you were being interrogated with questions. They included you on inside jokes and even gave you the nickname ‘Sassy’ after proving to them that you can hold your own in a verbal fight.

Thanks to JJ.

From the start he claimed to never like you. He hated where you were from, who your parents were, and that you never had a job. He hated that you didn’t even have to try to get people to like you. In his eyes, everything was handed to you on silver platter. You had a picture perfect life and all you had to do was bat your eyelashes and show off your pearly white teeth. He couldn’t stand you.

Yet, he was dangerously attracted to you.

He loved the way your hair shined against the setting sun, he loved that you didn’t wear makeup every single day like every other Kook on the island, he loved how your white jean shorts perfectly shaped your curves, and he loved how your temper was as equally as short as his because it made you fighting with him that much hotter.

Last night was no different than every other night with you and your friends. It was quiet, spent around a bonfire in John B’s back yard. You sipped on cheap beer from the can while the smell of JJ’s marijuana smoke wafted through the air. Kie lightly strummed the strings of her ukulele while Pope and JJ bickered about the pros and cons of smoking weed.

This was your family. You had friends on the other side of the island too but you weren’t as close as you were with the Pogues. You would do anything for the people surrounding you. Even JJ. You tried to tell yourself you hated him just as much as he hated you, but you couldn’t help but feel like every other girl on this island, falling for his ocean blue eyes and golden locks. His wit and his charm. His loyalty and protectiveness of his friends. How he looked with his shirt off. How he would wink at you when he caught you staring. You wished you didn’t, but you loved him.

“Hellooo, Y/N?” John B waved his hand in front of your face. You hadn’t even realized you’d been staring.

“I’m sorry. What were you saying?”

John B smirked but didn’t say what he was thinking. He always thought you and JJ were acting dumb when it was clear as day that the two of you were attracted to each other. He always caught you two staring at one another when the other wasn’t looking. You two would always ask about the other person when they weren’t there even if it was just to throw a sharp jab behind their back.

“I asked you what you were up to this weekend.”

“Oh,” You shrugged. “Probably run some errands, babysit my neighbor’s kids...”

Just like Hannah Montana, you also lived a secret life. Your life wasn’t as perfect as everyone thought it was, but you’d never admit to it. Your mother would be crushed, your friends would find you stupid and pathetic, and you would hate yourself even more than you already did.

“Good. Sunday we’re going to check out the surfing competition on Seasill Beach. JJ’s trying to qualify for it next year.”

Your smile immediately dropped. “Sunday. Oh.”

“Already got a spa day planned, Princess?” JJ smirked from across the way.

“I, uh,” You tried your best to fake a grin. “I’m sorry. I can’t go. I already have plans.”

You held you breath as you waited for someone to respond. This was the third time this month you flaked on your friends without a good explanation. You never knew what to tell them, only that you had plans. You were afraid if you said anything else, they’d find out you were lying.

“Again?” Kie stopped playing her ukulele to look at you. “Seriously. Is there some secret boy we should know about or something?”

You scoffed. “No.”

You felt the most guilty lying to Kie. After all she was your best friend. The one you were supposed to be able to share everything with, even the stuff you couldn’t tell your parents.

“Kie’s right. You bailed on us last week last minute too,” Pope said.

You opened your mouth to say something, but your head wasn’t working fast enough to come up with a lie.

“We all knew this day would come.” JJ’s smirk was gone. He flicked the butt of his joint into the fire and claps off the ash from his hands. “Hannah Montana dips her toes into the wild life. She feels free and independent long enough to decide she’d rather go back to her cookie cutter life and live with all the privilege that daddy has to offer.”

The word ‘daddy’ physically made you flinch. Your eyes narrowed in a tight glare as you dug your fingernails into the palm of your hand, hating that this was the way JJ thought of you.

“J...” John B tried to warn him but JJ didn’t listen.

“No, seriously.” JJ stood up. “I bet the reason she’s not telling us what all her ‘plans’ are is because she knows you’ll all be disappointed. Me? Well, I couldn’t care less whether you hung out with us or not. In fact, I’ve been praying for it. So tell us, Y/N, what are you doing that you won’t tell us? If it’s not some dude, then maybe you decided you’d rather be a Kook. Are you going to fancy lunches and riding yachts across the ocean? Maybe you’re spitting in the faces of the people who work to make your life easier. Maybe -”

“JJ!” Kie yelled.

You stood up, your vision turning red and your skin going hot. Usually you could take JJ’s insults. You were use to JJ throwing your family’s money in your face, trying to make you feel bad for something you can’t control, but this was too much. Because now he was calling you out on your loyalty to your friends. And he was so far from the truth.

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” You said. The other three stood up when you took a step in JJ’s direction. John B stood close to you. He didn’t know what you were going to do, but he’s never heard your voice so low and threatening in a long time. The other time was with a Kook who was giving JJ shit. Ironically. “For me to just leave.”

“I didn’t stutter, did I?”

“Well I hate to break it to you, but I’m not going anywhere. In fact, because I’m such a nice friends, I’m going to give you some free advice. First, the last thing you want to question me about is my loyalty to the people who’s lives I would put before my own. Second, I would suggest removing that stick up your ass because it seems like your way too uptight to handle it.”

JJ glared at you and didn’t move to respond. A part of you was surprised he didn’t have anything to come back with and the other part of you was relieved.

The thick tension between you and your friends was suffocating. Your night had been effectively ruined by a simple question. But the sad part is, you didn’t even know who to blame. JJ, or the other man causing most of your guilt and grief.

“Y/N/N...” Kie tried stopping you as you gathered your stuff to leave.

“I’m out of here.”

You stormed out of the backyard and into your car. There was only so much you could take until you broke. And you were not going to give JJ Maybank the satisfaction of seeing you break.

***********************

You couldn’t fall asleep last night. JJ’s words kept replaying in your head like a bad song stuck on replay. You wanted to hate him. You wanted to blame him for not trusting you. But instead, you hated yourself. Because you’re the reason he can’t trust you. Cause you have secrets you don’t want shared.

Your thumb hovered over his contact. Not JJ’s. The man who’s made your life a living hell for the last sixteen years. You wanted to scream and cry and slap him in his face. But instead, you stayed frozen in fear. Like the little pathetic girl he says you are. And you hated yourself more for proving him right.

Your attention was taken away when someone busted through your bedroom door out of breath. Kie immediately went to your drawers and pulled out the first bathing suit she could find and threw it at you.

“Kie -”

“We need to go,” She said. “Get dressed.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“Pope and John B ran out of gas doing grocery runs for Heyward. We need to get them with the HMS Pogue.”

“Where’s JJ? Why can’t he help you?”

“He’s working,” Kie said quickly. “Come on.”

***********************

You and Kie found Heyward’s boat stranded in the middle of the marsh like Kie said it would be. John B and Pope were waiting for you on the back and thanking you both for coming to help. You hold the gas as they helped you onto the boat. They directed you to the tank while they helped Kie.

As soon as you made your way to the front of the boat, you heard the engine of the Pogue rev and take off. You dropped the gasoline gallon and sprinted to the back of the boat where they left you. John B and Pope waved back to you as Kie drove them back to the Chataeu.

“What the hell?” You yelled at them to come back.

“You and JJ need to work your shit out!” John B yelled back to you.

“What...” You mumbled to yourself before you heard the sound of heavy footsteps running towards you. You gasp in surprise when a sweaty JJ passed you to glare at the boat that’s getting smaller and smaller by the second.

“What the fuck?” He screamed.

“There’s food and blankets in the cabin!” Pope yelled back.

“We’ll come get you in the morning,” Kie said.

You clenched your teeth together with frustration. JJ looked just as pissed off and small part of you was disappointed with that. He turned around, cursing to himself and hitting random shit in his way.

This was going to be a long day.

***********************

After four hours, you and JJ still hadn’t spoken to each other. He took over the cabin while you laid out on the back of the boat. Your head was running with different thoughts. Should you try to make up with JJ? Should you just continue to ignore him? Should you tell him why you can’t go to the surfing competition tomorrow?

You didn’t know what to do but you knew you couldn’t sit here in silence anymore.

You reluctantly stood in front of him with crossed arms. He was smoking a blunt and looking out into the setting sun. If you were friends, you would take a picture of him right now. The pink sky painted his skin perfectly.

“What?” He said without looking at you.

“Seriously?” You raised one brow. “We’re asked to do one thing on this boat and that’s all you have to say?”

“I’m not sorry for what I said last night.”

“Neither am I.”

“Fine.”

You rolled your eyes. The problem with both of you was that you’re both stubborn. But if the problem with JJ couldn’t be fixed today, you didn’t know how much longer you would be able to put up with his rude remarks and assumptions about you.

“What the hell is your problem?” You said.

“My problem?”

“Yeah. Your problem. You’ve been treating me like shit ever since Kie introduced me to you. What could I have possibly done to make you hate me so goddamn much?”

JJ shook his head in annoyance. “I’m not doing this.”

He got up and walked to the back of the boat where you were sulking not even five minutes ago. You followed him like the stubborn person you were and you continued to grill him.

“I’ve tried so hard to be your friend. I’ve bought you drugs, I’ve even done yours and JB’s laundry. I put in a good word to the tourons who ask about you at boneyard parties. I laugh at your jokes, even when they’re about my friends. I try so hard to be on your good side and you still want nothing to do with me!”

“Because you’re a Kook!”

“So?”

“You have everything. Money, family, friends, a future. I don’t trust you because I don’t know what the hell you want with us. What do we possibly have that you can’t get on Figure Eight? Hm? Are you trying to prove a point to your mom that you don’t need her? You trying to prove to your dad that you’re a tough girl and don’t need his money or protection to keep you safe? Huh?”

“You know what your problem is? You don’t listen! I’ve told you time and time again that I don’t care about any of those things. I hang out with you guys because you are my friends. I have a good time when I’m with you. Why is that so hard for you to get?”

JJ scoffed. “Please. You don’t think I see you constantly checking your cell phone? Making sure no one can see who you’re texting? If we’re such good friends, why won’t you tell us what you’re doing tomorrow? You always have ‘other plans’ and then you never tell us what they are.”

“Because that’s none of your business!”

“If my friends are going to get hurt because of some lying bitch then it is my business!”

You were breathing so heavily, you were basically panting. Your blood felt like it was boiling under your skin and your head felt fuzzy with lack of thoughts. You didn’t know what to say, truly lost for words.

JJ took another step closer to you. You’re so close to him, you can feel his breath on your face and see every mark on his skin. You never knew he had a scar right above his brow or a freckle under his ear. He smelled like weed and sun sunscreen and his breath like mint. Had you not been fired up with rage, you would have thought he looked hot and maybe even made a move.

But now it was the last thing you wanted to do.

“I’m sick and tired of you spoiled brats getting everything you want. You’re nothing but a spoiled rich kid who doesn’t even know the kind of privilege she has if it hit her in the face. You can’t relate to anything we have to go through. You don’t have to get dirt underneath your fingernails to make a buck. You don’t have to wonder where your next meal is coming from. You wouldn’t last a week on the Cut because you’ve never known what it’s been like to live the life we do!”

“You don’t know anything about me!” You snapped. The heart in your chest felt like it was being shredded to pieces by a rapid wolf. You felt like you were being torn apart one by one with each insult he threw in your face. Little did he know, he was wrong.

“I know enough to never want to see you again. I will never accept you into our group of friends. Don’t you get that? So you can stop playing the nice girl act around me and go back to Sarah Cameron and the other Kooks that you still hang out with despite knowing everything they’ve done to us. To Kie!”

Bringing up the fight between Kie and Sarah was a low blow and JJ knew it. It was something you always struggled with because you continued to be friends with both of them separately. At first, they were both mad at you but then accepted your friendship when they came around to loving the idea that you would fight for both of them. You tried getting them to talk and make up, but both of them refused. Maybe you should just stick them on a boat in the middle of nowhere and force them to work it out.

Although, clearly your experience with it wasn’t going so well.

“That’s not fair.”

“Yeah, well life’s not fair sweet heart. But you wouldn’t know about that.”

You thought the fight last night was bad. But this one took the icing off the cake. You wished so desperately that Kie had just trapped you both in a locked room, so at least you had the chance to break out and run away from the darkness that was clouding around you.

You were most upset that this was how JJ thought of you. You didn’t know if you would have the same devastating reaction if someone else had said these things to you. You wanted so badly to be friends with the blonde Pogue. You saw the way he interacted with his friends and you wanted to be a part of that small circle so badly, you would almost do anything to be in it.

But you didn’t think you could last another second of being belittled and tormented with JJ’s outspoken feelings towards you. You wished there was a rewind button so you could go back to bed and hopefully never wake up and you’d lock your door so Kie couldn’t break in.

You swallowed back the tears that threatened to fall and admit your defeat. You wanted to find the nearest corner and crawl into it and escape the murderous glare of JJ Maybank. JJ was wrong. You didn’t have everything. Because in this moment, you still wanted him. And you were just realizing that you never will.

“You judge me by the surface. You’ve never once tried to get to know me. You don’t ask. You just assume that I’m like every other kid on Figure Eight. You don’t know where I’ve came from. What I’ve been through. What I live with. You don’t know my plans for the future or my hobbies or even my favorite color because you didn’t ask!” Adrenaline pushes through your veins like a wave of energy. You’ve never felt so powerful but so small in your life.

“All right. So tell me,” JJ said. “Tell me whatever story you can think of that will change my mind about you.”

You paused, standing there face to face with someone who will never accept you. You were suddenly overcome with so many emotions you didn’t know which one to choose from. Anger, sorrow, fear, confusion, shame.

You couldn’t believe you even thought about telling JJ your story. A story that you haven’t even told Kie. The story about how you were actually born and raised on the far end of the south side. How your dad use to abuse your mother right in front of you before she managed to escape when you were eight. For six months you lived in her car before she got a job as a housekeeper at a cheap motel used mostly for hookers and their cliental. Her employer let you live rent free if your mom accepted a cheaper pay check. During one of her shifts, your mother ran right into Andrew Y/L/N. No, he wasn’t one of the hooker’s clients. He was actually on the property looking to buy out the place. Even though he was a Kook, he looked through the housekeeper’s uniform into my mom’s heart and loved everything about her. He took her on a couple dates, then less than a year later, married her. You changed your last name to his because you didn’t want any relation to your father anymore. You thought the man was scum and deserved to rot in hell for everything he put your mom through. You hated him and even wished for him to die. Sometimes you even thought about doing it yourself. But then you saw him again. At a gas station in the middle of The Cut. You couldn’t believe he recognized you and you were even more shocked he had the audacity to talk to you. And you listened. He told you how sorry he was. How he never meant to hurt your mom. How he missed his baby girl and wanted to be in her life again. You fell for every word because a part of you you didn’t know existed missed having a biological dad.

That was your biggest mistake.

He didn’t change. He was still the same bastard he was eight years ago, using violence and threats with people much weaker than him to get what he wanted. He loved guilting you with your new luxuries. How you now had everything right under your fingertips after you left him to wither away with nothing. He said you owed him. Because you were his daughter and you were supposed to love him unconditionally. And you fell for it every time. He never hurt you like he hurt your mom. A few slaps here and there but nothing to leave a mark to get your mother questioning.

So now you were trapped - trapped in his world and in his life. Using your own money that you actually worked for, little did JJ know, to pay for his bills, his drugs, and sometimes, even his bail.

You didn’t tell anyone about this secret life because you didn’t want anyone to make you feel any more pathetic and weak than you already felt. And most importantly, you didn’t want to hurt your mother by telling her you’ve been supporting the one person she’s been trying to protect you from.

And you were about to risk that by telling someone who probably still wouldn’t care about you even after hearing what you had to say. You are who you are. If JJ didn’t like you now, he shouldn’t like you after telling him your story, anyway.

“No.” You shook your head.

“No?” JJ scoffed. “I’m finally asking you tell me something and you’re saying no?”

“Because you don’t care, JJ! Not really. You think knowing my sob story is going to get you to like me? I don’t need a pity friendship. I am who I am because of shit I’ve had to overcome. And this is me now. So if you don’t like it, then fine. We’ll do it your way and call it quits.” JJ didn’t say anything as you turned around to find somewhere to pass out in hopes of getting morning to come faster.

You found a blanket deep into the cabin and pulled it over your body, shielding yourself away from the world. You hoped the darkness would sweep through your head so you wouldn’t be plagued with torturous thoughts about your past or what’s going to happen to tomorrow. You cried - you cried because even after JJ ripped into your like a zoo animal, he still hated you.

JJ was wrong. You didn’t have everything. Because you didn’t have him.

***********************

Surprisingly, the sun rose sooner than you expected it to. Sleeping on the swaying boat wasn’t as awful as you thought it was going to be. In fact, it was kind of peaceful with the stars above you and the sound of moving water right under you.

The morning wasn’t so calming. You were slapped in the face with memories of the night before. Your stomach twisted at the thought of being face to face with JJ again. You knew what you had to do and thinking about it made you sick and depressed.

You pushed yourself up and checked the time on the radio. 8:03. Anxiety instantly flooded through you. You only had two hours to get home to be ready in time to run ‘errands’ with your dad.

You looked out to the back of the boat where JJ was looking into the horizon, probably waiting for your friends to come.

Fresh set of tears pricked your eyes at what’s to come. You loved your friends and you even loved JJ. But you couldn’t stay with the Pogues. You didn’t want to make JJ any more uncomfortable than he already was and you were afraid the constant fighting would push your friends further apart. You didn’t want to be the reason for that.

You pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders and walked next to JJ. Without a word, you looked out in the same direction he was looking and admired the morning sun.

Surprisingly, JJ was the first one to speak. He looked at you and instantly felt guilty all over again. He tossed and turned all night contemplating on whether he should wake you up to apologize or just wait until morning. He knew he wasn’t being fair. You’ve done nothing but tried to earn his trust since day one. You accepted him for all his flaws and he couldn’t do the same for you. Yeah there was the phone thing and not telling the others what you’re up to, but it wasn’t like you were constantly in his business. If you see him with unexplained bruises, you don’t pester him about it. If he comes back to the Chateau in a pissy mood and blames it on a fight with his dad, you try to make him forget about it with a distraction instead of making him tell you what the fight was about. Why couldn’t he give you the same respect?

Truth was he wasn’t so much worried about his friends getting hurt as he was getting hurt. He liked you more than a friend should which would make your departure from your friends that much more heartbreaking for him. He never felt this way over a girl, let a lone a Kook and he tried so desperately to hate you. But it didn’t work. Instead, it made him feel like the biggest asshole in the world. He wanted to fix what he broke. He told himself he still had time left. His friends weren’t back yet to get him.

“Listen, Y/N -”

“It’s fine, J,” You sniffled. This time you couldn’t stop the tears from running down your cheeks. You tried blinking them away which only made them fall faster. You hated crying in front of people. Your dad always said it was a sign of weakness and you believed him. You wouldn’t be surprised if JJ laughed in your face right now and called you a loser. “It’s done.”

“What are you talking about?”

JJ’s heart physically broke when he saw your tears. He had never seen you cry. Not even out of joy. He couldn’t believe he was the cause of this. That he had made someone as beautiful and as kind as you actually feel bad about herself. He wished he could take back time and start over. He wished he gave her a chance from the beginning. He wished it wasn’t too late.

You both looked up when you heard the engine of the HMS Pogue. In the distance, you could hear your friends laughing and calling out to you, not yet realizing their plan went to shit. You had to make this quick.

“The last thing I want is to get between you and your friends. You don’t have to worry about me hurting anyone, especially Kie. I’ll back off.” You said, making JJ’s brows furrowed in confusion and his heart raced with worry. “I’m giving you what you want. I’ll stay out of your life.”

JJ couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe he drove you to do the one thing he actually never wanted you to do. “Wait. You’re leaving?”

You looked JJ in the eyes and he wished you didn’t. Because for the first time, he didn’t see the light behind your eyes or the little crinkle in the corner when you smiled. They were dull and lifeless, making him sick to his stomach.

“I didn’t stutter. Did I?” You used his words from the other night and it felt like a stab in the heart to JJ.

JJ was left speechless which almost never happens. He wished he could say something, anything, to make you feel differently, to tell you he was wrong and sorry. But nothing came out. He could barely breathe.

“Hey you crazy kids,” Kie’s voice pierces the air, jokingly and airy. If only she knew that wasn’t how you were feeling.

“Missing a key or something?” John B joked alongside her.

“You should have called us sooner!” Pope added.

When the boat came closer to yours, they finally got a look at the two of you. They were shocked to see you silently crying and looking like all the life had been sucked out of you. JJ looked mad but they couldn’t tell whether he was mad at you or them or himself.

The three of them went sick with anxiety, suddenly wondering if this was a bad idea. Kie tried to get you make eye contact, but you wouldn’t look at her. You couldn’t look at any of them - afraid you might actually break completely if you did.

“Y/N/N...” Kie said softly.

“You guys okay?” John B asked wearily.

JJ helped Pope tie The Pogue to Heyward’s boat and hopped on right after. Pope traded spots with JJ and came up beside you and stood there awkwardly. He didn’t know what to do either.

You looked up at him before he could come up something probably stupid to ask. “Can you drop me off please?”

Pope glanced back at his friends and nodded. “Uh, sure. John B will probably get you there faster though if you -”

“No, it’s okay,” You said. You didn’t think you’d be able to handle being in an enclosed space with JJ for another minute. You just wanted to go home and forget the past two years ever happened. “I’ll stay here.”

Pope shrugged at his friends when you trudged back into the cabin and curled yourself into the corner. You didn’t know what the next few weeks would be like, but you hoped they go better than the last twenty four hours did.

#jj maybank fic #jj x reader #jj fic #jj maybank #jj #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank one shot #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x kook!reader #outer banks #outer banks fic #outer banks imagine #john b routledge #kiara carrera #pope heyward

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mymothershumility · 3 years

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neverflownwithme asked: “Perhaps the world is in need of change.”

past transmissions || { always accepting }

{ Part 1 } & { Part 2 } & { Part 3 } & { Part 4 } & { Part 5 }

{ Part 6 } & { Part 7 } & { Part 8 } & { Part 9 } & { Part 10 }

{ Part 11 }

{ @neverflownwithme }

“This is the last of it.”

Gaze lifts from her desk, quill coming to pause above the parchment she has been recording the contents of the hidden room upon. The process has been a lengthy one, stretching a week and a half after the room’s discovery. Many of the scrolls and tomes from within the space have been accounted for, recorded upon Laira’s parchment as she looked over each and every one.

There are a number of journals among the tomes that she has skimmed, personal ones penned by the hands of Lady Shiera Seastar, Princess Rhaena of Pentos, and Queen Visenya Targaryen. There are others of an unknown origin, as well, penned in an unfamiliar --yet strikingly familiar-- hand.

Thus far, her work has centered around sorting and identifying the tomes, journals, and scrolls that had been scattered upon the desks and shelves within the room. She and Hal have yet to tackle the various trunks that have been pulled from the space. They remain stacked on the opposite side of her solar, shrouded in mystery. It is what Hal now carries easily in his hold, crossing the room to set the last trunk among the others.

When Laira looks back across her solar, she finds the space of the room void of everything but the desks and shelves that are set against the walls as well as the Myrish carpet lining the floor. The look of it seems entirely foreign for a moment. Yet, despite all of their work, there are still a number of questions looming above them. Laira has yet to finish one of the tomes pulled from among the stacks in full. It will take her and Hal both months to do so if they attempt such a task. Of that, she is certain.

And, in the end, it is possible that such a task will be the only way to discover the answers they so desperately wish for.

Setting her quill back upon her parchment, Laira pens the last of her entries upon the surface. There are well over a hundred journals, tomes, and scrolls upon her list. With her recording finished, Laira sets her quill back into its inkwell. She is glad to have the task done, though her back and her eyes now ache because of it.

“Visenya Targaryen and Shiera Seastar penned many of these,” Laira comments, fingers brushing upon the Lyseni crafted journal that had once belonged to the Star of the Sea. She traces the silver three headed dragon that is emblazoned across the amethyst leather, letting a soft sigh escape her. “Princess Rhaena of Pentos has penned several of them as well,” she goes on. “There are others as well, though I cannot discern to whom they once belonged.”

The journals and scrolls that she mentions are scrawled in the language of the Old Empire. Of that, Laira is certain of. She recognizes the language as easily among the ancient pages just as she does among Shiera Seastar’s recounts. What strikes her odd above all else are the mentions of the Freehold, of the descriptions of the dragonlords and the never ceasing ebb and flow as power slipped from one to another and back around again.

There is more, though... recounts of the Five Forts and the Great Empire of the Dawn… of the Blood Betrayal that had ushered in the first Long Night.

Such recounts only spawn additional questions. They only serve in deepening a tale that is already wrapped in far too much mystery.

“Perhaps a change of scenery would do us both good,” Hal recommends, leaving the trunks for then. He leans against the sturdy form of Laira’s desk when he is near enough, casting a look down at the work that she has done. “It seems as if we’ve scarcely left these walls of late.” They have had good reason to. Hal is aware of such a thing. Still, he believes setting their task aside for a time could be of benefit to them. It is possible their answers may be easier to find if they look for them with fresh eyes.

Laira listens as he speaks, gaze drifting over him as he settles his form against the edge of her desk. She cannot disagree with his words. She finds herself smiling, in fact, at his suggestion. It is a welcomed one. “I am surprised that you would object to spending your time secluded away with me, my Lord,” she teases him, watching the way the lines of his body seem to soften with her words. Such a reaction has become more frequent as of late. Laira enjoys witnessing it. “Pray tell,” she begins, chuckling as he moves and bends to set his hands upon the armrests of her chair, “have you grown bored of me already?”

“I feel you already know the answer to such a question, Your Grace,” he says, moving closer to her when she reaches to press her hand beneath his chin. “I believe you merely enjoy teasing me,” he accuses, leaning to steal a kiss from her.

She laughs against his mouth, fingers shifting until her palm is pressed to the line of his jaw. “No more than you enjoy teasing me,” Laira reminds, speaking when he pulls from her. Her thumb briefly strokes against his cheek, the pad of her finger tracing the line of a faint scar hidden beneath the light stubble of his beard. “Did you have something particular in mind for us to partake in?”

Their week has already been one of great change and challenge. In the midst of their exploration and discovery within the walls of her solar, Sansa and Helen had arrived on Dragonstone from King’s Landing in the midst of a torrential storm. Having sailed upon one of the Velaryon ships that often ferried supplies from the capital to the islands of Claw Isle, Driftmark, and Dragonstone, the girls had arrived in the dead of night, utterly terrified after additional events that had transpired within the capital.

Such events still set her husband upon edge when they speak of them. They do much the same to her. There had been little favor for the Tyrells in her husband’s heart when he arrived on Dragonstone, having already forbidden a marriage alliance that Olenna had attempted to put into place between Sansa and Willas Tyrell while he was occupied in the Stormlands. There had been little favor left in her with her husband’s revelations.

When the girls had arrived --cold and hungry and fearful-- only to reveal that Olenna had not only attempted to see Sansa married away, but had also attempted to betroth Helen to Oliver Redwyne’s son, any favor that had lingered within her and her husband for the Tyrell matriarch had burned away to ash.

“The day seems as though it may remain favorable,” Hal says. Those days upon Dragonstone are few and far between, the weather ever changing and often giving way to storms. “Perhaps we could journey down to the village with the girls,” he proposes. “Or take them down to the shore.”

“I believe they would enjoy time on the shore.” Laira has made her fair share of journies down to the village since arriving upon the island. And while the markets are filled with trade from across the sea, she believes that the girls would enjoy their day all the more if granted the time to play. Laira is uncertain when another fair day such as this one will occur on the small island.

It will be best to take advantage of it while possible.

Hal takes hold of her hand as she speaks, turning so his mouth can catch along the inside of her wrist. The kiss that he plants against her skin is whisper soft. “My thoughts as well,” he agrees. He is straightening in the next moment, drawing Laira carefully up from her seat as he goes.

She laughs again, both at his affection and his enthusiasm. Laira is happy to see it after the events of the week. There have been too many times as of late that she has seen the weight of Olenna’s betrayal pressing down upon him.

Such a matter, Laira will be certain is addressed. She will see justice given where it is due. Daenerys would have no need for a Hand who acted in such a traitorous manner. She was confident in that.

“I will ask the cooks to prepare something light for us to carry with us,” Laira said. They had broken their fast with the girls when they had woken. Midday would be upon them shortly, though, and hunger would soon set in upon them once again.

It takes little to convince her niece and her good-cousin to accompany her and Hal down onto the shore. Helen is quick to agree to such a journey, entirely enthralled with the sea and all the mysteries that it holds. And, wherever it was that Helen journeyed, Sansa was always quick to follow after her. It has become far more uncommon, in fact, to find Sansa away from Helen’s side. Both she and Hal find some comfort in such knowledge.

For, wherever the girls travel, their direwolves are there to go with them. Only a fool would attempt to harm the girls with such staunch protection at their sides.

No more than an hour later, Helen is skipping along the smooth flagstones of the courtyard with Sansa’s fingers wrapped securely in her hand. Rose and Dawn trot along in front of them, heads and ears high as they observe everything around them. Several steps behind the girls and their direwolves, Laira walks arm-in-arm with Hal. Her husband’s direwolf companion has positioned herself at Laira’s opposite side, having shown herself to be increasingly protective as of late. She suspects Hal’s own mood to be a contributing factor. His bond with Moone has already shown itself to be similar in nature to her own bond with Viserion.

And, as Viserion often feeds off Laira’s own emotions, she believes that her husband’s direwolf companion does quite the same where his own are concerned.

“They both seem excited,” Laira murmurs to Hal, smiling at Helen’s chattering and Sansa’s answering giggles. Her young niece has been engaged in excited conversation with her eldest cousin since learning of their excursion down to the shore.

“Neither of them have been afforded a great amount of time upon the shore or in the waters of the sea,” Hal tells her. Despite having lived for a time in White Harbor, Helen has never been able to wander about on the beach or play in the water as she has been able to during her time upon the island stronghold. The beaches at White Harbor differ vastly from Dragonstone’s own. The shoreline of much of the North, in fact, is rocky and unforgiving. Its waters are much the same, too frigid even in the heat of summer to swim about in. “However, Helen has been exposed to the water far more than Sansa,” he goes on.

His cousin had confided not so long ago, in fact, that her first time spying the sea had been when she had come to King’s Landing as a bride for Joffrey Baratheon.

Laira hums in understanding, tucking herself closer to her husband’s side as they begin their trek down the winding pathways that will take them to the shore beyond the castle. “I believe they would enjoy Lys,” she says, thinking of the last time that she had visited the Free City. “It is still warm there,” she continues. “They could swim in the water if they wished to. Or, play about on the sands and look for shells at their leisure.” The beach beyond her mother’s manse within Lys had been well guarded at one time. It would be again should Laira ever return to it.

“Perhaps we will be able to make the journey there in the near future,” Hal tells her, bringing her closer when she slips more into the length of his side. He knows that Helen would enjoy the coast of the Free City, having already shown a particular love for searching out tide pools there upon Dragonstone and observing the sea life found within them. And Sansa, he knows, would love the markets.

She smiles at such a notion, leaning until she is able to brace her head against the line of his shoulder. Another quiet hum leaves her, opposite arm reaching across her so her fingers are softly pressing against the palm of his hand. She cannot stop the whispering flutter of her heart inside her chest when his own fingers --warm and strong-- curl carefully about her hand in response. “You spoil me,” she murmurs up to him.

A smile twitches up at the corners of his mouth when he feels the press of her head against the expanse of his shoulder, grows all the larger when Laira’s fingers seek out the expanse of his own hand. “You’ve spoken fondly of Lys on more than one occasion,” Hal reminds, thumb stroking along the bumps of her knuckles. “I don’t believe it’s spoiling you to return you to a place that holds such fond memories for you.”

“No?” she questions, the word marred with a gentle laugh. “A fortunate thing for myself, then.” She pauses, watching as Helen goes dashing out onto the sand ahead of them. The young girl is giggling as she runs, her direwolf giving chase after her down the beach. Sansa follows after her, though she walks instead of runs. Laira can hear her laughing all the same. “There are other places that I am fond of as well,” Laira goes on, still watching the girls as they make their way towards the edge of the water.

The sea around Dragonstone is often colored deep azure, though the water closer to shore is often clouded with sand that is stirred up from the storms that plague the island. Today, at least, Laira can see that the shallows are clear. The water looks incredibly inviting even from where she and Hal are walking.

“What places are those?” Hal has his own thoughts about what they may be.

“White Harbor was of particular interest to me in the short time we lingered there,” she offers. It had been a mere stop in their return to King’s Landing from the War for the Dawn. Yet, the Manderlys had shown them every courtesy possible during their stay. Laira had become especially fond of Lady Wylla and Lady Wynafryd during her time in their hall. “However, WinterfelI, I believe, is the dearest of them all to me,” she carries on.

Laira imagines that he knows the reason, can see the quick flickers of realization as they slowly settle upon him.

“The war that awaited us aside,” she continues, “I was quite happy there.”

“So was I.” Even though Hal had never grown up at Winterfell, it remained familiar. He’d spent more than enough time among its walls, visiting his family with his father. Most of his childhood had been spent among the walls of Karhold. “It was likely the company that made the stay so easy, though,” he went on, smiling at the way she was looking over at him. “I left Harrion Karstark as steward before we departed back south,” Hal reminds. He and Harrion had grown up side by side at Karhold. He was practically a brother to him. There had been no one else that Hal would have trusted to guard Winterfell for Sansa. “He would welcome us back if we decided to make the journey there.”

“We could journey there first,” she offers, her voice sincere. Laira is not opposed to such travels. The more distance, in fact, their family can put between themselves and Olenna Tyrell’s plots, the better. She will not have Sansa or Helen near enough to the woman for them to be used as potential pawns.

“We’ll look to somewhere warmer first,” Hal says, looking up in time to see Dawn bounding into the shallows. Rose is at her heels, chasing after her with high pitched yips. Mere steps from where the direwolves are playing, Sansa and Helen are crouched near a cluster of rocks. Hal doesn’t need to be closer to know they’ve discovered a tide pool. “Winterfell can wait for a time.”

“If my Lord insists.” She smiles at the quick laugh that he gives, the sound partially covered by a snort.

“Will this always be a game between the two of us?” he asks her, returning her smile.

“It is a fitting one, I believe,” Laira answers. “To accompany all other manner of teasing that we engage in.”

“If memory serves, you’re the one who began our little game.” There’s a great deal of fondness in his tone, eyes glancing back to check on the girls. They’re still enthralled with their discovery at the edge of the water. Dawn and Rose are nearby as well, at play in the shallows.

Laira laughs at his accusation, her own gaze turning skyward. Though Viserion is beyond her line of sight, Laira can feel her flying high in the cloud cover. The dragoness will descend soon enough and she will find Laira when she does. No matter where she lingered, Viserion always seemed to come to her. “I regret to say that your memory is mistaken, husband,” she says, laughter still present in her tone. “You showed yourself to be quite proficient in your teasing during our time in Oldtown,” she points out. “You began our game, in fact, the very night that followed your arrival.”

By then, they have stepped farther from the edge of the water. The cliffs now loom high above them, casting dark columns of shadow out along the sand. They are still near enough to the waves, though, that Sansa and Helen are easily seen. Laira reaches to take the canvas bag that her husband has been carrying upon his opposite shoulder, having seized the bag from her as they had departed the Great Hall. He had refused to relinquish back to her as they had walked, insisting that he be the one to carry it down for them. That she had healed from her ordeal within the capital had been reminded and acknowledged, though Hal had continued to insist he carry it in her place despite such a reminder. It is endearing, in truth, how he continues even then to worry over her in such little ways.

The cooks and the maids had done as she had requested, preparing a meal for the four of them that could be easily packed away and carried down to the shore. Mira had even been kind enough to fold the pale gray blanket from Laira’s apartments and slip it into the bag with their meal. Laira had used the blanket during one of her last visits to the beach. It is the blanket that Laira withdraws from the bag, unfolding it and spreading it out over the white sand.

Moone is quick to take up a spot along the edge of the fabric, lying so that her belly is half on the fabric and half in the sand. Her head rests against the top of her large paws, mismatched eyes watching as Rose and Dawn continue their games within the water. Laira comes to sit beside the direwolf on the blanket, feet slipping out of her sandals and legs stretching until she can rest the soles of her feet atop the cool sand. Hal pauses before he moves to sit beside her, looking out to where Helen is calling excitedly for him. She is gesturing to one of the pools that she and Sansa have located, clearly overjoyed at having discovered something of interest.

“You are being beckoned,” Laira says, smiling at the way Helen now runs for them. Dawn is at the young girl’s heels, yipping after her.

“Uncle Hal!” Helen exclaims. “Sansa and I found sea stars! Come look at them! They’re so pretty!” Helen quickly turns her attention to her aunt, smiling at her. “Will you come look too, Aunt Laira?” she asks, her tone hopeful.

“Perhaps in a few moments,” Laira says. “Take your uncle with you, though. Make him entertain you.” She motions Helen closer when Hal pretends to be distracted by something. “See if you can trick him into the water,” she whispers.

The recommendation makes Helen giggle, hand pressing against her mouth to keep her uncle from hearing. Then, she makes a grab for her uncle’s hand, pulling him along with her. “Come see, Uncle Hal!”

Hal pauses long enough to look back at Laira, his expression shifting to something more serious for a split second. “Will you be alright?” he asks. Even though they are far from King’s Landing and among trusted individuals on the island, he still worries about straying too far away from her.

“I believe that I am well guarded,” she assures, hand rising to rest itself against Moone’s head. The she-wolf had made no move to follow after Hal, remaining at Laira’s side instead. “Should I need you, I will call out for you. I have faith that you will come to my aid if I require it.”

Even if Hal had been too far from her, and Moone along with him, Laira would not have worried. Not there. Though she is still hidden from view, the Queen can now feel Viserion lower among the clouds. She is near, likely flying about the Dragonmont or about the far ends of the island. The dragoness could be to her just as quickly if she found herself in need. Still, Laira has no fear of lingering on her own there upon Dragonstone’s shore. The island is safe. Of that, Laira is certain.

Laira watches as her niece leads her husband away, only the faintest hints of reluctance entering the line of his shoulders. It fades easily enough as Helen draws him away, chattering about all that she has found with Sansa. At her side, Moone settles more into her spot, body scooting itself until she is pressed along the stretch of Laira’s own legs. The direwolf’s tail beats gently against the sand when Laira reaches to press a hand to her head, happy with the attention that she’s given.

For a time, she observes her husband and their family along the sands. Hal has always shown himself to be wonderful with children. From the first moment that Missandei had met him, she’d been drawn to him. The young scribe had remained practically attached to Hal’s side in the days that had followed Daenerys’ attack within the Holdfast, seeking safety where she had known it could be found. And, even though they were both older than Missandei, Irri and Jhiqui had shown a similar draw to him as well. Laira expected girlish infatuation in place of anything else, however. Even the stableboys there upon the island and Mira’s own daughters flocked to her husband when he was near to them.

Laira quite enjoys watching such displays. Hal is always attentive, always listening and conversing with the children that seek him out. Should the gods allow it, he will make a wonderful father. She feels her heart give a brief flutter at such a thought, grief momentarily snapping within her chest. Had poison not been slipped into her cup within the Holdfast, how close would their children have been to birth by then? Three moon turns? Possibly four? It would not have been so far away. By then, Laira would have been able to feel their movements.

It has been a time since Laira has allowed her thoughts to linger upon what was stolen from her and from Hal in the capital. She does not like the pain that swells in her heart when she does… does not like the sorrow she sees reflected in Hal’s own features when she mentions it. Still, Laira cannot help but dwell upon what might have been if someone had not struck against them.

There is nothing that can be done to right the wrongs that have been done in the past, yet there is a hopeful part of her --one that is far more idyllic-- that wishes there was something that could be done. The thought is pushed away just as quickly as it comes. She knows better than to allow foolish naivety a place within her.

The shift of Moone at her side brings her thoughts back to where they should remain. Laira reaches to press her palm to the she-wolf’s head. She feels a vibration beneath the wolf’s surface when she does, a growl emanating from her throat. Moone’s head rises a moment later, emerald and sapphire gaze settling upon something down the shore. Laira’s own gaze follows the wolf’s. There is a brief flicker of crimson and darting shadow, movement that disappears behind an outcropping of rock a split second later.

For a moment, the Queen is thrown back to the night she and Hal had discovered the room within her solar. A brief flash of memory springs forward, recollection of the being that had lingered beyond the windows of her apartment. She sees the flash of shadow and then the three glowing points of crimson light glowing in the dark.

A hand against her shoulder makes her flinch, heart fluttering wildly in her chest as fear sweeps down the column of her spine. Her head snaps to her side. Sansa is standing beside her, having drawn her hand back from her. The young girl is staring down at her, her eyes wide and hand clasped to her chest.

“Sansa,” the Queen breathes, attempting to calm herself. Her heart is still thundering wildly in her chest.

“I am sorry,” Sansa speaks, her voice small. “I thought you heard me. Please forgive me.”

Reaching, Laira sets her hand upon Sansa’s arm, her touch gentle. “You startled me, sweetling,” Laira says. “Nothing more. I was merely lost in thought,” she admits. She does not turn her gaze back down the shore, though Moone continues to watch the area. “There is nothing for you to ask forgiveness for. You have done me no harm.”

Sansa nods, mouth turning up into a little smile. “May I sit with you?” she asks. “Hal and Helen are still looking in the pools.” Her cousins have wandered a little farther down the beach, Helen perched atop Hal’s shoulders as they search out the various pools and the life that resides within them.

“I would love the company,” Laira admits. She pats the spot beside her, watching as Sansa moves and sinks down onto the blanket with her. The girl’s own sandals have been cast aside, left somewhere out upon the sands closer to the water. “Are you hungry?” she asks, gesturing to the bag at her side. “Mira and the cooks were kind enough to pack a meal for us. You are welcome to anything that you wish to have.”

“Thank you.” Sansa smiles over at the Queen --her good-cousin-- and reaches into the mentioned bag.

In the top of the bag, there are sweetened biscuits with dried cranberries and orange zest as well as savory rolls with garlic, herbs, and sharp cheese wrapped in linen napkins. Below the biscuits and rolls, the cooks had packed wooden bowls wrapped in cheesecloth. In one bowl, there are pieces of thinly sliced cured ham, the very kind that the Queen enjoyed wrapped about figs with sweetened goat cheese. In the same bowl, there are slices of firm white cheese. In the second bowl, Sansa finds carrots, radishes, and sweet peppers. The last of the bowls is filled with sweet black cherries, tart green grapes, and fresh strawberries. There are glass bottles within the bag as well, each of them filled with water.

Taking a sweet biscuit for herself, Sansa breaks a bite of it off from one of the corners. It’s heavenly tasting. The pastry is flaky and sweetened perfectly. “The biscuits are delicious,” she tells her good-cousin with a smile.

“I am glad that you like them.” Laira reaches for one of the savory rolls, breaking it in half before offering part of it to Moone. A flicker of concern slips through Laira when the direwolf does not immediately take the offering from her. Moone frequently begged her for food whenever she and Hal ate, never once refusing anything that Laira offered to her. Only a moment later, Moone stretches her head forward and gingerly takes the roll from Laira’s fingers. Her attention is turning back down the coast only a second later, focus back on the outcropping of rock along the cliffs.

Laira looks back at the area, though she cannot see anything that concerns her. The dart of crimson and shadow had likely been nothing more than her eyes playing tricks upon her. All the same, Moone’s continued focus makes her uneasy.

“Hal says that we may travel to Lys for a time,” Sansa says, taking another bite of her biscuit. “He says that it is warm there… that you have a manse within the Free City where we could stay.”

“The manse belonged to my mother,” Laira explains. “It has been held by members of our family since the dragonlords of the Old Empire reigned.”

Sansa hesitates, nibbling another bite from her biscuit. “Would we be safe there?” she asks, glancing down the beach where Hal and Helen are still walking. She does not believe that Hal will venture anywhere with them that will not be safe.

“We would ensure that you and Helen remained well protected, sweetling,” Laira murmurs, her own gaze following Sansa’s.

“I hadn’t felt safe in a long time… not until I was reunited with Hal,” Sansa admits. For so long, she’d been a caged bird… a little dove in a gilded cage. “But then…” she trails off, her eyes beginning to tear up at their edges. “Lady Olenna cannot force me to marry Lord Tyrell, can she?” Sansa questions, her voice breaking.

When Sansa had first been offered the opportunity to marry Willas, she’d thought the chance to be her only way to freedom. That had been before Queen Daenerys had helped orchestrate the plan that had stolen her away from the Lannisters. That had been before she had been reunited with Hal. All Sansa wanted now was to be with her family. She did not want to be Lady of Highgarden. She did not want to marry a man twice her age who knew nothing about her.

“What Lady Olenna attempted was treason, sweetling,” Laira murmurs. The roll in her hand is largely forgotten. She extends it out to Moone, watching the direwolf take the second half with no hesitation. She seems more at ease now, her head resting heavily against Laira’s knees. “She had no right to attempt to force you into a marriage with Lord Tyrell. She had no right to attempt to force Helen into a marriage with Lord Redwyne’s son.”

To do so while Hal had been occupied in the Stormlands and Laira had been away upon Dragonstone had been all the more underhanded.

“You needn’t worry over such a thing any longer,” Laira continues, her voice gentle. “You will not marry anyone that you do not wish to. Neither will Helen. Do you understand?”

Sansa nods as the Queen speaks, reaching to dab away the tears in her eyes. “Promise?” Sansa whispers, her voice breaking again.

“I swear to you, sweetling,” Laira murmurs, reaching to press her hand down atop Sansa’s. “If anyone attempts to force you or Helen into another marriage, they shall answer to me and they shall answer to your cousin.”

Let Lady Olenna or any other attempt such a thing with her family once again. They would have her wrath in answer to it.

Dabbing at her eyes again, Sansa sniffles and picks a dried cranberry from her biscuit. “I have always wanted to marry someone for love.” Sansa has always wished for a life and a love like those within a song. “Mother always said that love could come after… that love did not necessarily come before a marriage.” Her mother had been fortunate in her marriage, had been fortunate to have loved her father and that he had loved her in return. Sansa knew such things did not always occur. “I wish…” she trails off, considering her next words carefully.

Hal is Winterfell’s heir by Westerosi inheritance law. He has no intention to keep the Northern seat, though. He has already told Sansa as much. He will act as her regent until she is of age. Then, Winterfell will pass into her governance. It was such power that others would always see. They would see a hold on the North through her. They would see her as nothing more than a puppet to be flitted about on strings. “I wish the world would allow for someone to love me for me and not for my family’s seat,” Sansa finally admits. “I do not think that such a thing will ever be possible, though.”

The Lords of Westeros would forever look to their daughters and see tools to gain power.

“Perhaps the world is in need of change.”

Both Laira and Sansa glance up, finding Hal now standing beside their blanket. Helen is still atop his shoulders, looking down at them with a quiet little smile.

“I think that’s what Queen Daenerys intends to do,” Hal goes on, lifting Helen off his shoulders. He sets her back on her own feet, giving her a moment to become steady before he lets her go. She immediately goes to Sansa’s side, squeezing herself between her cousin and her aunt. When Sansa offers her a biscuit from the canvas bag, she eagerly takes it.

“Your cousin is right,” Laira says, smiling when Hal leans to press a kiss against the top of her head. “Daenerys wishes to build a world where little girls are no longer used as collateral to secure power.”

Laira can only hope that she succeeds in such an endeavor. The Lords of Westeros would not be so easily swayed.

The rest of their day upon the shore is without incident. Sansa and Helen linger with Laira and Hal long enough to eat a few treats from their lunch before dashing back out to play along the sand and in the shallows. The trek back up to the castle is as light as their trek down to the beach had been earlier in the day. The girls giggle back and forth between themselves, trading stories and showing one another shells that they have gathered throughout the day.

With sunset still some time away, Hal asks the stableboys to fill one of the large water basins within the gardens with fresh water. All three direwolves are damp from the sea and matted with sand from their playing. Even Moone, who had spent most of her time lingering at Laira’s side, had taken a run into the shallows not long before they departed. They will all need to be bathed and rinsed before entering the castle again.

The girls stay behind to help, Helen already starting to pour clean water over Dawn’s back as Laira walks the steps up into the Great Hall. The direwolf sits without a fuss, letting Helen do as she wishes.

It is cool inside the castle. The torches along the walls have been lit in preparation for night. As Laira walks, she can hear the chattering of the maids and the cooks within the kitchens, all of them going about their tasks. It’s a comforting sound, she realizes. Everyone within the castle seems utterly content. It’s a stark change from the Red Keep… from the attendants that had been present within the palace when Daenerys had taken the city. She lingers for a moment, poking her head into the busy space to check on all those within.

Mira gives her a smile when she sees her, seated at a small table with her daughters and her mother. Ser Aeron is seated across from Mira and her family, talking and laughing with her maid’s little girls. Celesse is pouring a splash of cream into a bowl across the kitchen. She brings it back to Ser Aeron, setting it down in front of the man with a kind hand against his shoulder. The master-at-arms smiles at her, thanking her before taking a bite of what Laira believes to be peach cake. The cooks had received fresh peaches just a few days ago and had been using them frequently in sweets and salads.

“Did you and your family enjoy your day, Your Grace?” Mira calls, standing from the table. She carries a tray in her hands as she does, moving so she can deposit them in the sinks across the kitchen.

“We did,” Laira assures. “Perhaps your little ones could accompany us the next time that we venture to the shore.” She smiles when she notices the way Mira’s daughters brighten. She doubts they have ever been extended such an invitation before. “Sansa and Helen would no doubt love to have playmates closer to their own ages.”

“That is very kind of you, Your Grace,” Mira answers, smiling over at her daughters. “I am sure they would enjoy such a thing very much.”

Laira looks to Ser Aeron then. “Be sure that the stableboys eat as well, Ser Aeron,” she tells him. “They were kind enough to help my husband with an endeavor with the wolves,” she says. “Be sure that they both take food home for their families. And you as well.”

“I’ll fetch them myself, Your Grace,” Ser Aeron answers, spearing another piece of peach cake with his fork. “Thank you.”

Laira leaves them only a few moments later, pausing to be certain that Celesse and the cooks have enough to eat and enough to carry food back to their families. When Laira enters the hallway that houses her and Hal’s apartments, she pauses at its end. The doors to her rooms are ajar and there is a shadow moving within the space. Her husband and her family are still down within the gardens, tending the wolves, she knows. And her attendants are within the Great Hall, milling about in the kitchens.

She hesitates only a moment before she is moving, feet quiet against the dark stone. Glancing around the doors into her apartments, Laira finds the space empty. Across the living space, the doors to her solar are thrown open. There is a fire burning within the hearth. Another shadow flickers along the wall within the small space.

Dark Sister is still propped at the end of her bed, resting against the onyx colored chaise. She moves without a second thought, hand wrapping about the grip. The Valyrian blade is pulled from its scabbard as she crosses the room, the steel gleaming in the faint firelight. There is a feminine figure standing before the hearth when she steps into the solar. Clad in all crimson, dark hair spills down the other’s back. The design upon the woman’s crimson robes identifies her before anything else can.

A Red Priestess. A servant of the Red God, R’hllor.

The priestess’ head tilts slightly. Laira can see the quirk of the woman’s mouth from where she stands. “Daughter of Death,” the woman speaks, the words flowing off her tongue in the language of the Old Empire. “We have much to discuss.”

{ @truetargaryen & @fullrangeofemotions & @thequeenmaker & @xcoatlicuex & @hisvipereyes & @viperparamour & @nolongerhispawn & @shewhoisironborn & @adornishviper & @anunfailingkindness & @ialwayswasthebest & @iveneverbeenagoodgirl & @aladyofwinterfell & @therosesofhighgarden & @arisiarrxb & @alionessroars & @zaldrizo & @fairytalesandstars & @queeniolande & @yrracynrxl & @scaleddoe & @scraniknatu }

#neverflownwithme #;transmissions #v; fire cannot kill a dragon #otp; you are the light in the dark #gv ;; the dragon must have three heads #[[ new friend at the end ;D ]]

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