#I didn't find where I should put this in the next story chapters so enjoy this quick update

[flowerandblood]

The Fall from the Heavens (23)

[ canon • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: masturbation, sexual tension, smut, angst, manipulation, blackmailing and threats ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Childhood

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Alys had always known that, like any bastard child, she could only rely on herself. Her existence was merely an unfortunate accident to her father and brothers, with which they nevertheless came to terms, and she, in their minds, should be grateful for being allowed to stay and serve in Harrenhal.

Indeed, she never considered herself to have been significantly harmed by fate.

Compared to women who had to sell their bodies for money in order to survive, her function as herbalist and wet nurse completely satisfied her.

Milk filled her breasts along with the baby that one of the guards had put inside her. When he pressed her against the wall and lifted her gown, panting that he had desired her for a long time she did not stand up to him, even helping him by bending over and spreading the folds of her womanhood before him so that he could more easily hit the right spot with the thick tip of his length.

This particular man never aroused her desire, however, he supervised her chambers, and since she allowed him to enjoy the pleasures of her body, he closed his eyes to when and where she went out, giving her more freedom.

His wife, however, was not comforted by the fact that her husband had a mistress.

She could not conclude that her husband was a good lover; his hands only clenched greedily on her firm breasts, his thrusts violent, fast and deep. She knew that as he chased his fulfilment hissing that he would fill her with his seed, it did not even cross his mind to touch her between her thighs or ask what would give her pleasure.

She did not, however, resent him.

She recognised that this was how men were.

Although she tried not to think about it, the sight of his wife, one of her father's servants, filled her with remorse, for although she knew that this woman did not love him, she humiliated her every time she took away what belonged to her.

She had nothing to justify it, but she knew that if she told him to stop she would arouse his anger and his behaviour towards her would change.

He might want to take revenge on her for rejecting him.

She couldn't allow this to happen.

What he didn't know was that he wasn't the only man she allowed to sink between her thighs for the benefit; it was easier and sometimes even more enjoyable than trying to bribe them with money, which she didn't have much of anyway. What she was able to do perfectly was to observe people from the sidelines − their reactions and desires, coming to her own conclusions about what they needed and wanted.

Usually these men wanted not only sensation and elation, but also reassurance, a warm word and understanding; they lay with their faces cuddled between her breasts, muttering for her to stroke their heads, and she did so, allowing them to turn from men into innocent children for a moment.

The women in the fortress began to whisper among themselves that the ease with which she seduced men and with which she maintained her beauty despite her age was due to the fact that she was a witch.

She smiled piteously as she strolled through the corridors of the fortress, overhearing their conversations from afar, hearing about the potions she gave to poor, unaware men so they could not forget her, that she bathed in milk and blood to keep her face young and bright.

She did not deny the accusations, because she derived satisfaction from the fact that they feared and avoided her.

Fear, however, also tended to provoke interest and curiosity, and the young, newly arrived servants who were just learning their trade could not tell what they thought of her.

When she needed a break from the men's sweat and their aggressive, deep thrusts she sought peace and solace in the arms of young girls, much more gentle and understanding when it came to the nature of female fulfilment, their sweet moans and surprised expressions as she caressed them made her feel a pleasant pulsation between her thighs.

Although the prospect of becoming a mother did not fill her with particular joy, when she woke up one morning, feeling a pool of wetness under her thighs and saw blood, the squeeze in her throat and the tears she felt under her eyelids were proof that some part of her hoped she could love this innocent creature that was growing inside her womb.

This did not happen, however, and she, not wanting to waste her milk, from which her breasts had already swollen, decided to feed the children whose mothers had too little nourishment.

She considered her life quite prosperous and peaceful until her father and half-brother died in a fire.

Until Larys became the Lord of Harrenhal.

Everyone, including her, feared him.

He was like a writhing viper, tightening slowly around the necks of those who aroused his suspicions, his gaze black and completely blank, as if he experienced nothing, felt nothing inside himself.

He could not be seduced, appeased, pleaded with, persuaded.

He was like a stone, merciless, cruel, taking satisfaction in domination and power.

She never got in his way.

One evening, however, he summoned her to his chamber, and she feared what he desired.

When she stepped inside he was sitting at the table, having just eaten his evening meal. He smiled slightly at her in a way that made her feel the cold sweat on her back; his eyes remained indifferent, glowing mischievously in the firelight.

"Sit down, sister. I wish to discuss something with you." He said softly, and she swallowed hard, keeping an indifferent, satisfied face, looking at him from under half-closed eyelids. She sat down opposite him in one of the chairs, spreading out comfortably in her seat, sighing quietly and nodded for him to speak.

"We will have guests of honour. Prince Aemond and his wife will be arriving here within two days to spend the night here and then head off the next morning to meet Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon." He said calmly, putting a few pieces of cake from the tray onto his plate, with a hand gesture he encouraged her to eat as well, but she shook her head, analysing his words quickly.

She had heard of them.

Prince Aemond had married and taken his niece's maidenhood on the same night he chose Maris Baratheon as his wife.

His brother the King, to save the situation, married them in the eyes of the Seven before an enraged Borros Baratheon could arrive in King's Landing demanding justice.

There would not have been all the commotion if Prince Aemond had taken her as his second wife, but he clearly only wished to have one, therefore, Maris was sent away with only a dowry and humiliation.

Her half-brother continued, seeing the lack of response on her part.

"I want you to host them well. Both of them, if you understand what I have in mind. Myself and his grandfather do not believe in the success of their mission. Like most of the kingdom we know how it will end: with a war. A war we wish to win. However, our Prince, if I may say so, does not think with his mind now, but rather with what he has between his thighs. He gives in to his wife and her persuasions to bring about a reconciliation. I know you are well acquainted with human nature and will surely win both her trust and his heart."

She chuckled under her breath, shaking her head in disbelief as she looked at her fingers, trying to hide the horror and squeeze in her stomach she felt.

He wanted to expose her, to put her head under the Prince's sword if it turned out that her attempts would only enrage him, and he could wash his hands of everything.

"In any case, in a few days' time the matter of the succession will resolve itself with the help of my birds in the Eyrie. They know what to do. Of course, I'll let our Prince believe that his decision matters, however, everything is already arranged. I hope this should settle the matter. With the help of the gods, the girl might try to take her own life for the second time. Let us raise our cups for that." He said lightly, as if indeed such a course of events would please him the most; she looked at him in disbelief, thinking that she had not even noticed when he had become such a disgusting creature.

A monster that, like a black, empty hole, was consuming everything around him, destroying it and crushing it.

She wasn't in a position to refuse, and he knew it.

That was why she walked out with him to greet their guests, thinking she would simply do what he ordered her to do.

She blinked as the figure of a petite, pretty girl jumped down from the shimmering blue and silver dragon, her long, dark hair of a shade similar to hers tied into a braid, its unruly strands dishevelled by the long journey through the skies.

She stepped out in front of them, breathing heavily, her eyes big, full of curiosity and uncertainty, her gaze warm, kind, her cheeks all flushed from exertion. She stopped in front of them and forced herself into an innocent, almost childlike smile, from which she felt a squeeze in her gut.

Gods, have mercy.

"Your Grace. What a joy." Said her brother. The girl blinked, not knowing for a moment what to answer, shifting from foot to foot.

"My Lord Strong. Thank you for being willing to host us." She muttered at last, clearly tense − her was voice pleasant, melodious, soft, the kind that gives comfort with ease, brings peace of mind.

They all turned their faces towards the approaching figure as they heard his footsteps; Prince Aemond in his long black leather coat and black eye patch indeed looked like someone menacing, commanding, as powerful as the great dragon he was riding.

What immediately caught her attention was that as his gaze traveled over their faces he stopped at his wife, assessing her figure from afar as if quickly examining whether she had suffered any damage after such a long journey and whether she was well.

He must have evidently concluded that she was, for his gaze turned after a moment towards her brother.

"Lord Strong. Take us to our quarters."

The Prince and her brother moved first, followed by his wife, looking around the interior of their fortress with genuine curiosity, not even listening to what her brother was saying.

She didn't even notice that her uncle was glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, checking that she was near and in no danger.

She thought he would sooner stab her in the heart than take her to his bed.

Her brother opened the door of the chamber that had been prepared for him, the largest in the entire fortress, not coincidentally located close to hers. The Prince, however, did not look impressed; his lips pressed into a thin line in disapproval when he heard that Lord Strong had assigned his wife other quarters.

"No need. My wife will spend the night in my chamber." He said coolly, as if the very suggestion was offensive and insulting to him.

He had kept her with him the whole time, she thought in disbelief, glancing out of the corner of her eye at the girl standing next to her.

She stood, gazing at her uncle as if she were looking at a statue of one of the gods; her bright, shining eyes large and filled with affection, devotion, longing, even though, after all, he was standing in front of her, at her fingertips.

She realised, swallowing quietly, that he had not taken her by force the night he married her or any night after.

How long had they looked at each other like this?

"As you wish, my Prince. However, I will leave the rooms I spoke of at your wife's disposal for her own convenience. I have also assigned her a servant to ensure that while we men are conversing, she will have company. There are several matters I would like to discuss with you." Her brother replied.

Prince Aemond then looked at his niece with a gaze as if he was about to explode − his wife pressed her lips into a thin line, immediately understanding what the expression on his face was meant to convey to her, her look of understanding and sigh was meant to add to his patience.

His gaze softened and after a moment he nodded, letting her go.

The girl looked at her, so she smiled quickly and pointed with her hand the way they should go to her quarters. Before moving behind her she looked at her husband, the Prince leading her away with a cold, sharp gaze.

Overwhelmed by this revelation, no longer knowing herself what she thought of it or what she should do in such a situation, she simply followed her into the room, closing the door behind her. She watched quietly as the prince's wife walked to the window, placing her hand on the glass, and smiled slightly, noticing something outside.

Had she been like this all the time?

"Do you desire to change into something…more comfortable, Your Grace?" She asked finally, recognising that she needed to start any light conversation, to try and understand who was standing in front of her.

The girl shuddered and blinked, as if forgetting her presence for a moment, turning to face her. She nodded, forcing herself to smile, unsure and embarrassed, playing with the fingers of her hands in a nervous reflex.

"Yes. What do they call you?" She asked lightly and kindly, willingly shortening the distance between them, which surprised her.

Usually women of her ilk took satisfaction in calling her Lady Rivers, reminding her every time that she was a bastard.

But she, even if she was married to the Prince, was also one.

She was her relative, her brother's daughter.

She swallowed hard at that thought, feeling a squeeze in her throat.

"Alys, Your Grace."

She lowered her gaze, as if pondering something for a moment, and then her bright eyes looked at her again.

She thought with pain that she was like a small flower, a daisy or a forget-me-not, which one picked to weave into one's hair, to feel as innocent as a little child again.

"I would not wish to… misunderstand who you are and what you have in common with Lord Strong, Alys." She muttered with some sort of embarrassment, from which she involuntarily burst out laughing.

Good gods.

"I am not his mistress. I am his relative, though I do not bear his name, as any bastard would." She said softly, amused; her gaze shifted, her brow furrowed in concern and curiosity.

She knew what she was going to ask her, she could feel it in her bones.

"Did you know my father?"

She named him as her father even though she was officially Laenor Velaryon's daughter.

She admitted to her that she too was a bastard without a grimace of embarrassment.

"Yes, Princess."

Her whole body tensed, her hands clenched into fists.

"His death wasn't an unfortunate ordeal, was it?" She asked in a trembling voice, and her lips involuntarily lifted in a dangerous smirk at the thought that her directness was surprising her.

Was this how she spoke to her husband?

Was this how she forced her way into his heart?

"There are no such thing as unfortunate ordeals, Your Grace."

A silence fell between them filled with the weight of their words and what they meant; she licked her lips involuntarily, feeling that she was incapable of denying herself the pleasure of having to see her reaction to her words.

To see if she was right.

"After the word has reached us here all the way from King's Landing, I have been looking forward to our meeting with impatience, and while I will admit that it is not what I expected, I am beginning to understand your husband's desperation." She said with amusement, feeling a tingle in her fingertips and in her lower abdomen at the sight of her flushed cheeks.

"What do you mean?" She mumbled quietly, embarrassed; however, it was not shame feigned and exalted, but more an expression of genuine surprise and excitement at her words.

"Men are easily driven to desperation, though it usually takes time. They like to gain and take pride in what they have conquered; the greater, in their mind, the value of what they enclose in their embrace, the less they are willing to let it go." She said calmly, turning her head away, immersed in her own thoughts.

"Your husband follows you with his thoughts even when he is not looking at you. His head, even when he is not speaking to you, is directed towards you so that he can see you out of the corner of his eye. When he feels discomfort, he involuntarily seeks your face to experience understanding and comfort."

She looked at her, wanting to see her reaction, and sighed almost imperceptibly, feeling heat in her lower abdomen at the sight of her parted, plump lips, her dreamy, hot gaze.

She knew that she had felt something at her words, that it had taken deep root in her heart and made her return with her thoughts to her husband.

Was this how she had looked at him when he made love to her?

She could not imagine that he could take her maidenhood brutally and cruelly, that he would allow her to cry beneath him in pain.

No, she thought − he surely took her with slow, lazy thrusts of his hips, letting her get used to his shape deep inside her, assuring her in a whisper that just a little more.

She felt a strong throbbing and tickling between her thighs at that thought and licked her lips, looking up at her again − her gaze lowered meekly to the stone floor, a soft, thoughtful smile on her face.

She decided on second thought, helping her change into one of her gowns, touching her soft skin, smelling the wonderful scent of vanilla in her nostrils, that she would braid the most elaborate hairstyle she could think of on her head, just so she wouldn't have to leave her chamber before supper.

She knew that her half-brother expected her to then take the opportunity to venture into the Prince's chambers to make sure he was not missing anything.

Therefore, she began to braid her soft, long, dark hair, creating a beautiful, complicated hairstyle surrounding her head.

She escorted her to the proper quarters and bowed, Larys gave her one impatient look.

She felt a cold sweat on her back, leaving immediately.

He was not pleased.

She thanked the gods that the Prince's wife had summoned her herself, wishing her help with her bath, giving her another reason not to head to her husband's chambers.

She thought that if she went on like this perhaps the situation would work out in such a way that she simply wouldn't have the opportunity to do anything, though even if she did she wasn't sure Larys would believe her.

As she walked into her chamber she saw that she herself was trying to untie her bodice, so she approached her, undoing the tangles with ease, looking at her face with curiosity.

"Was the Prince pleased with his wife's appearance, Your Grace?" She asked softly, noticing from the corner of her eye that the girl had lowered her gaze, ashamed and saddened.

"Yes. Though he expressed his opinion that he prefers it when my hair is loose." She said with resignation, and she couldn't stop the smile that appeared on her face.

Of course, she thought.

The sight of her loose hair reminded him fondly of how it had been spread in disarray around her head, shining in the darkness of his chamber as he fucked her greedily.

"Oh, that's understandable. He surely associates it with your intimacy and closeness, as any man would. The entwined curls and braids are for those around you, meanwhile the softness of your hair, the smell of them, the sight of them spread on the bed is something meant only for him." She replied lightly, for some reason wanting to lift her spirits and comfort her; she heard her move in place, the sweet blush appearing on her cheeks again.

She was embarrassed, she thought with disbelief and tenderness, as if she were looking at a small child.

She was so innocent.

Was that what attracted him to her?

The idea that he was surrounding her with himself like a dark cloak, devouring her again and again?

"You know a lot about men…don't you?" She heard her uncertain, curious voice; she looked at her in the reflection of the mirror, noticing that she immediately lowered her gaze, as if she could not bear the intensity with which she was looking at her.

"Yes, Princess."

"Have you seduced many yet?" She asked intrigued, and she smiled again involuntarily.

"Yes."

When her gown finally fell to the floor she saw her girlish, pleasing curves peeking through from under her nightgown. She watched as, with a light, confident step, she walked over to the bath and bore herself into the hot water, tilting her head back, sighing in relief, her head still adorned with the braids she had woven herself.

Such a pretty little thing.

"I would like to … make my husband happy tonight. I know he needs relief from what's about to happen tomorrow. However, I can't do it, at least for now, in the way I usually do." She mumbled out at last, looking at her with those big, warm eyes of hers, seeing in her apparently her guide, someone who could help her with these complicated and intimate matters.

She felt a pleasant squeeze in her lower abdomen at the idea that popped into her head.

"The easiest thing to do in that case would be for you to use your mouth." She replied amused, drawing out of her exactly the reaction she wanted − her cheeks turned scarlet, her gaze fled downwards, her tiny long fingers clenched into small fists.

She was wonderfully embarrassed, so sweet that he would have gladly shown her everything, step by step.

"I'm…inexperienced in these matters." She confessed with shame, and she involuntarily licked her lower lip with her tongue, feeling the throbbing between her thighs at her words, her nipples hardening under the material of her gown.

Gods.

"I see." She muttered, feeling her heart begin to pound like mad as she moved slowly towards her, her surprised gaze lifting to her as she knelt right next to her tub, cupping her wrist in her hand.

Her skin was as soft as silk.

Her gaze escaped involuntarily to her breasts, now perfectly visible through the wet material of her shirt clinging to her bare flesh; she felt a tickle in her swollen lips at the thought that she longed to lick and caress them.

She was sure that as he teased and sucked her nipples she moaned sweetly beneath him, begging for more, and he always, always gave in to her.

Because how could he refuse her?

"I can show you how you should do it, if that's what you wish, Your Grace."

She saw her pupils dilate in disbelief, her lips parted as she swallowed hard, her chest beginning to rise and fall in accelerated breaths.

"…How?"

She couldn't stop the smirk that appeared on her lips, nor what she did next.

She heard her sigh quietly, surprised and thrilled when her lips ran over her pointing finger, enveloping her skin with her hot breath.

"Imagine that this is his manhood. Men don't say it out loud because pride won't let them, but they adore it when a woman shows them with gentle, tender caresses." She whispered, running her swollen lips up and down her finger leaving a sticky, warm trail of her saliva on it, surprised at how wet it made her between her thighs, how wonderfully arousing it was, how obscene it was.

She heard her draw in a deep breath without moving away, but as she guided the tip of her finger between her lips, teasing and licking it lightly with her tongue, out of the corner of her eye she noticed that her thighs clenched in some helpless, subconscious reflex.

What other reactions could she draw from her?

"− and then − when he begins breathing faster − when you feel he's completely ready −" She sighed quietly as she suddenly slipped her whole finger deep into her mouth, feeling her swollen folds pulsate hard again and again as she began to suck it in slow, steady movements with the quiet click of her saliva.

She heard her gasp on the verge of a moan as her tongue began to trail over her skin with her low murmur of satisfaction, her free hand involuntarily sliding down to the material of her gown, wanting to slip under it and bring herself to fulfilment with her own touch.

She slipped her finger out of her mouth with a loud plop and looked up at her − her face all flushed, her gaze dreamy, hesitant and warm, as if she herself didn't know what she felt or why.

Something in her gaze made a pleasurable heat spill over her lower abdomen as she dug her own fingers into her fleshy folds, all sticky with her moisture, pulsing aggressively with her every stroke in pleasure.

"− you pretty little thing − it’s usually him taking care of you, isn’t it? − he can’t deny himself − I can’t blame him −" She whispered, trying not to move her hips so that she wouldn't notice anything; she lost the battle with herself as she felt herself getting closer and closer to fulfilment, pushing against her own slit with the tips of her fingers.

Unfortunately, it turned out that her husband was more vigilant than she thought.

When he burst into his wife's chamber she barely had time to remove her hand from under her own skirt and let go of her, standing quickly and bowing before him.

"My Prince."

"− get out −" He growled, and she walked out obediently, grateful in spirit to the gods that he hadn't stopped her to question her, that he hadn't noticed the glistening wetness on her fingers.

Or he saw it and it infuriated him, she thought with amusement, feeling her heart pounding like a mad in her chest.

She finished what she had started in her chamber, bringing herself to fulfilment with sure, swift strokes of her fingers, driving their tips into her sensitive, fleshy womanhood, able now to afford to moan and rock her hips, imagining her body peeking through from under her wet nightgown.

She imagined that she knelt before him to lunge and soothe him, that she barely fit his fat cock in her small mouth, all swollen from the desire she had always aroused in him, that this proud, dark, cold man whimpered before her like a small, innocent boy when he finally gave in, thrusting again and again deep into her warm throat.

She came with a low moan of relief, panting heavily, hugging her face into the pillow, rocking her hips for a while longer, slowly coming down from her peak.

She was sure that as she lay half asleep, feeling a blissful, pleasant peace, she heard their moans in the distance and grinned involuntarily.

Of course he forgave her.

He always did.

She often had dreams whose meaning she did not understand; she saw people she had never met before, observing events that might as well have happened in the future or in the past. That night, however, her dream particularly troubled and worried her, as she had no idea what it actually meant.

Two streams of blood finally merging into one, flowing like a river, which then, however, became a lake that reminded her of a dragon's head in a crown, only to spill over after a while, and she saw nothing but red.

Was this what was about to happen?

Would Princess Rheanyra and Prince Daemon be murdered and another dragon's reign begin upon their blood?

She swallowed hard, thinking of that young, cheerful girl, of how obvious it was that she was not aware of anything, that whatever her uncle-husband knew, he had not shared it with her.

She thought that if he betrayed her, she would wilt like a flower, fade like the sun in a setting sky.

She stood up and headed for his chamber.

His gaze expressed nothing less than disgust and rage at the sight of her. He reached for his tunic, dressing it hurriedly, tense and pale, knowing full well what was to happen if the negotiations did not bring the results he hoped for.

She wondered if he realised that even if he didn't give the order, they would be murdered anyway.

"You will betray her." She said indifferently, and he threw her a quick, horrified look, his nostrils quivering in disbelief.

He knew perfectly well what she was referring to.

She thought that sometimes all it took was a gentle push, putting a mirror in front of someone's face to make them think carefully again about whether they were ready for the consequences of their choices.

"You will betray her at the moment she trusts you the most. You will break her. You will achieve victory, but she will never let you touch herself again. You will come back here to face your nephew and you will take me, because you will decide that I am similar to her enough to satisfy your pain and longing. You will put your child inside me, your bastard son, who will rule Harrenhal after our death."

She said and grinned, seeing that he shuddered all over, that his mask had cracked, his lips parted as if he wanted to groan in despair.

She knew he saw it in his mind, felt it in his heart, and she left his chamber without a word.

She let out a loud breath as she walked down the empty corridor, thinking with some kind of hope that her words, the vision she had invented to break him would terrify him enough to make him fall to his knees before his wife and confess everything he knew.

And if he doesn't, if in fact he betrays her, it will prove that he was never worthy of her.

She had come to her summons when she wished to clothe herself; she saw, crossing the threshold of her quarters, that she too was frightened and anxious, only for completely different reasons.

She wished for them to come to an understanding.

She believed it was possible.

She felt a squeeze in her throat at the thought, at the realisation that she was alone in a world where everyone but her craved war, craved power, craved the throne.

She did not look at her face, at the clear command of her husband not allowing herself any closer proximity to her, which she accepted with understanding.

After she had fastened the buckles of her leather coat, however, she allowed herself to take her soft hand in her own, stroking it with her thumb.

She hesitated and furrowed her brow, but before she could move away, she began to speak, forcing herself to whisper, fearing that her brother's servants might have heard her.

"Do not return here. Fly from the Eyrie straight to King's Landing. I saw in my dream a river of blood taking the shape of a dragon's head wearing a crown. I saw red flooding everything around me." She said quickly, feeling a squeeze in her throat.

She thought in disbelief that she pitied this girl.

"This warning, these words, are my gift to you. Look after yourself. Trust no one."

#aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond the kinslayer #aemond one eye #aemond smut #aemond angst #hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction #aemond fic #aemond fandom #aemond fanfic #hotd fandom #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #hotd fic #hotd smut #ewan mitchell smut #aemond targaryen smut #house of the dragon #canon aemond #dark aemond #dark aemond smut #aemond targaryen angst #hotd angst #ewan mitchell angst #aemond x oc #aemond x original female character #aemond x original character #aemond x female

[jo-harrington]

Freaky Friday - A Stranger Things Story (Part 1)

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

Word Count: 3.5k

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader, Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader, Eddie and Steve (Enemies to Friends)

Summary: Eddie thinks that Steve has everything in life handed to him on a silver platter (including his new girlfriend who Eddie has a crush on). And Steve just can't believe that the kids look up to Eddie the Freak, or that he lives his life without giving a single fuck.

Must be nice. But you know what they say, the grass is always greener.

Warnings/Themes: AU with no Upside Down. Body swapping, dark magic/alchemy, unrequited love--some crushes at least, Babysitter Steve, No Upside Down means slightly still King Steve, unresolved feelings, manipulation/deception, Reader gets a nickname (Honey), no Y/N if I can help it, no smut in Part 1 but liable to be in other chapters

Note: After a very hot and fast suggestion by @shiftingtherain, this mini-series was born. And instead of working on Store Manager Verse like I wanted to, here we are. This part is a little shorter...it's the intro, sue me. Next few parts will be a tad longer.

Credit for the header partially goes to me for the design and the logistics but I was tired, so I may have borrowed gifs from @emziess and Netflix itself as a jumping off point (with permission from Emzies and Netflix is a corporation so they can rot). I can only do so much guys, I also had to write this thing too.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

If Eddie never saw Steve Harrington again in his life, it would still be too soon.

He didn't always indulge in rentals from Family Video—if it was too cold and wet to have band practice in Gareth's garage, or if he was having an especially bad week at school, or if he needed something a little more realistic than the illustrations of Heavy Metal magazine to help him satisfy his needs—but today just had that special feel to it.

He'd gotten a B on his math test, Rick had been feeling a little under the weather and let Eddie make the rounds to his usuals for a sweet little cut, and he had found a dusty old book about alchemy and occultism at the library that was going to help him put the finishing touches on tomorrow night's Hellfire session.

For all of that, Eddie thought a little reward was in order.

A little Dark Crystal, a little pizza from Lou's, a little weed...he'd be having the best Thursday night.

Except...

For the past twenty minutes, he'd pretended to hem and haw over the selection of movies just so he could glare across the store at the counter, where Steve stood, flirting and making grandiose promises, with you.

He burned with jealousy, and God, it took almost everything in him not to gag as Steve reached across the counter to slyly hold your hand. And everything else for his heart not to break as you just let it happen.

Eddie didn't know how or when or why this started—when Harrington had gotten his claws into you and how he had managed to charm his way into your heart—when it should have been Eddie instead.

Eddie'd had a crush on you for years but had always been too nervous to do anything about it.

You were a year younger than him, and friends with his pal Mickey's younger sister, so he'd seen you around quite a bit. Smart and funny and pretty; maybe not as unpopular as Eddie was, but certainly not in the running for homecoming court or whatever other social hierarchies were in place at Hawkins High either. He figured...you know, maybe once he got to senior year he'd get the courage. Maybe take you to prom or something; who wouldn't want to go out with a senior?

But he'd gotten the notice from Higgins that he wouldn't be graduating with the rest of the Class of '84 and it really put a damper on his plans.

He had been hopeful again the following year, actually had a few classes with you and sat with you for partner work when no one else wanted to work with him, when they laughed at him. You weren't even afraid to go up to him in the cafeteria to ask a question, or walk with him in the hall if you had to go in the same direction for your next class. You'd talk about assignments mostly, but he savored every little fact he could learn about you. What books you'd been reading, the fact that you watched Svengoolie on Saturday nights—just like he did—or that you'd had some squabble with Mickey's sister over a scrunchie of all things and were no longer speaking.

But Eddie knew how bad his grades were—somehow even worse than the year before—and aside from the work you did with him, he knew it wasn't gonna be enough for him to graduate. So he wasn't gonna put himself in the position for you to laugh in his face—not that you would but...just in case you did—by asking you out.

He thought you would disappear from his life after you graduated. Get the hell out of Hawkins the way everyone else wanted to. But no. You took a few classes at the community college and worked the dinner shift at Benny's a few nights a week. You'd been there every Tuesday night, when he and the guys grabbed food after their gig at the Hideout. The usual booth reserved, drinks already poured by the time they sat down, and their usual orders already written in your little order pad.

You usually gave him extra whipped cream on his slice of cherry pie too.

The guys always urged him to ask for your number...but he never did. How could he? Even if you were stuck in this town the same way he was...he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

And now...here you were, listening to Harrington talk about some great surprise he had planned for your third date the next day.

Eddie wondered why you hadn't screamed in outrage when Steve mentioned how much Nancy Wheeler had liked it when he took her to this mystery place. He would have definitely expected you to at least flinch at the mention of his ex-girlfriend's name.

"It sounds really great," you said instead, smiling and nodding. "I get out of class at 3 on Fridays...should I be here around 4?"

"4 is perfect, honey," Steve grinned.

Eddie couldn't stand to hear whatever sickeningly sweet goodbye you both would come up with so he just grabbed whatever tape was in front of him and approached the counter. You and Steve both flinched when Eddie slammed his selections down on the counter to be checked out.

“Uh…I’ll see you tomorrow then. Bye Steve,” you muttered, eyeing Eddie with a half-smile that felt a bit sad. “Bye Eddie.”

"Bye honey."

“Bye honey,” Eddie mocked once you were out the door, then turned back to Steve. “You gonna try and make goo goo eyes at me next Harrington? I don’t have all day.”

“Jesus Munson. What’s up your ass?” Steve scoffed, grabbing the tapes.

“I’m just trying to get my videos and go.” Eddie rapped his knuckles on the counter. “Not really interested in the kind of customer service you're trying to provide."

Steve wondered what the likelihood of getting fired would be, if he just punched that smug look right off of Munson's face.

Keith hated the guy too, he always left the Adult section looking like a mess. Maybe Steve would get a promotion instead.

For years Eddie roamed around Hawkins being a general menace with his gaggle of friends. Causing trouble, shouting at people, making faces at old ladies. He’d gotten “taken in” to the police station one too many times but always seemed to make it out without actually being arrested. Which baffled Steve; Eddie was a drug dealer for crying out loud.

And yeah, Steve had even asked him to come and deal at a party or two but…people like that were bad. Simple as that.

Even after all of that, after you got past the “bad boy” persona….he was a fucking nerd. He wasn’t even cool like the bad boys in movies were. Steve felt like someone was tricking him the first time he had walked past the Hellfire Club’s table in the cafeteria. For all the leather and chains and band tees—all the talk of satanic rituals and blood sacrifices—there was sure a lot of talk about elves and…and bards and Star Wars.

So it shouldn’t have been a surprise to Steve that the kids would flock to Eddie by the time they made it to Hawkins High.

But it had been. A huge shock.

His unexpected little gaggle of morons…weren’t really his anymore.

Steve had dropped Dustin off on the first day of school and said “don’t get into any trouble.” Even made Robin promise to keep an eye out for him. He expected the kid to…join the mathletes or something. Get roped in with the science nerds.

But by the end of the week, the kids were all clamoring about how they would need to reschedule movie nights with Steve so they could go to Hellfire club with Eddie.

Steve couldn’t understand it. Eddie was a freak, a punk, some good for nothing…and now the kids were suddenly following him like he was some sort of prophet. Spreading the word of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

See? Steve could do the nerd talk too when he wanted...thanks to Dustin.

Who, much to Steve's annoyance, was apparently Eddie's biggest fan. The guy could do no wrong in Dustin's eyes, and it really irked Steve.

Will and Lucas were spending Saturdays at the library—not for homework, but for research because apparently Eddie really liked incorporating mythology into his campaigns. (Whatever that meant.) Mike was growing his hair out because "Eddie's hair was cool.” What about Steve, whose literal nickname was The Hair? Shit, he'd even seen Eddie give Max a ride to school on a few occasions when he was late dropping Robin off. And he knew Max and her mom had been having a hard time since her step-dad skipped town and Billy...

Steve knew some of the town gossip about Eddie was just a bunch of bullshit...but if Max Mayfield was cool with him?

Yeah, he just couldn't help but be suspicious of the guy.

Regardless, the sooner Steve could get him out of the store, the better his night was gonna get.

...actually...

"That's gonna be $10." Steve announced dryly.

"Woah, $10?!" Eddie scoffed. "I have a membership."

"Since when?" Steve asked, hands immediately landing on his hips.

"I use one every time I'm in here."

"Yeah you use Reefer Rick's."

"So?"

"New policy," Steve lied, hoping it would get Eddie out of his hair for a good while. "No sharing memberships outside of your family. Last I checked, your last name isn't Lipton. So you either cough up the $25 for a new membership Munson, or the $10 for your rental. What's it gonna be?"

Eddie grumbled and dug his wallet out of his pocket, slamming the money on the counter.

"Any candy?" Steve asked mockingly before grabbing the cash.

Eddie grabbed the tape and grumbled under his breath as he exited the store.

Yeah, Steve wasn't gonna be dealing with him any time soon.

For a second though, as he went to start processing returns, he wondered...

If Eddie was in some ritualistic cult...what kind of curse could he possibly put on me?

But that was a dumb thought to have.

Eddie's night just went down hill from the minute he left Family Video.

He didn't notice that they'd given him the wrong pizza at Lou's so now he was stuck with some specialty veggie pie with broccoli on it, the tape he had grabbed indiscriminately had been some artsy foreign romance crap, and just now he'd just spilled Dr. Pepper all over his Hellfire notebook.

"Fuck," he shouted as it spilled over the side of the coffee table and onto his sock-clad feet. He couldn't give a shit about the carpet, he could even ignore his wet socks, but his notebook. Weeks of work, planning and toiling over the most sadistic campaign.

He liked to keep all of the notes of Hellfire's completed campaigns, a sort of...record for future kids to look back on and reference. And now this specific masterpiece would be lost to memory.

He cleaned everything up as best he could before making a quick trip back to his room for an extra notebook or something he could use to salvage his plans for tomorrow's session. He had always been really bad at...keeping spare notebooks on hand. Even the ones he'd used for class always ended up covered in his drawings or notes, little bits and ideas of dialogue he could use for speeches or NPCs.

The best he could find was his math notebook from last year which, surprisingly, sat relatively untouched.

Eddie knew why: that was a class he shared with you. And as he opened to some random mostly-empty page, he saw his little scribbles in the margins surrounding half-faded, penciled-in algebraic equations. Daggers and hearts and his and your initials intertwined together.

It was the one class where he would never encounter partner work with you, so he felt compelled to fill the pages with his daydreams instead of fantasies and lore. You would never see it.

"Well," he huffed as he dropped back down onto the floor and slapped the notebook onto the coffee table. He grabbed his pen and scribbled over the drawings on the page. "Now that she's with Harrington, no use living in this fantasy. Fuck, I was stupid, so stupid to ever think she would want anything to do with me."

He grabbed the dusty old alchemical book from the library and found his place, staring at old sigils and runes and text indiscriminately until he came upon one that looked too perfect for the campaign. Concentric circles, arcane lettering, angular lines...

While Eddie would usually use a clean page for something like this—something he would hand off to his players—he drew a copy of the sigil onto the page and planned to rip the edges off, maybe singe them with his lighter to make it look more authentic.

He kept staring at the still-noticeable doodles beneath the pen scribbles and his heart ached a little in his chest.

Yeah, he would definitely want to burn those too.

By the time he was done copying the sigil, a wave of exhaustion overtook him and he glanced down at his watch.

It wasn't much later than he usually went to bed on a weeknight...

He stared at the half-ruined notes for tomorrow's session that he still needed to rewrite and sighed.

"Fuck it, I'll just redo them in the morning." He got up and stretched his arms over his head. "I can just sleep in tomorrow. Skip class. Show up for Hellfire. Who cares anymore.”

He put the rest of the pizza in the fridge for Wayne and then headed to bed, only to be plagued with dreams of scribbled out love hearts, movie theater candy, guitar solos, and big red gum.

When Eddie woke up the next morning, he felt...honestly felt like he was floating on a cloud. Every muscle in his body felt looser, yet somehow tighter at the same time. His skin felt tighter, like it wasn't right, like it didn't fit somehow, it was suffocating him.

He must have died but he wasn't quite sure if this was heaven or hell.

His eyes burned and blurred slightly as he opened them and what he saw was...unexpected.

Gone were the off-white walls, his posters, the piles of his crap, and that concerning patch of probably-mold in the corner of the ceiling. Instead there was a sturdy ceiling, plaid-papered walls, and matching curtains?

Eddie groaned and rolled over.

What the fuck was this place?

There was a slam of a door somewhere that practically shook the walls surrounding Eddie and as he sat up, he found himself only wearing...briefs? He didn't wear briefs.

This wasn’t his bed, wasn’t his room…wasn’t his… body?

He looked down at his chest, his arms, his hands…his fingers weren’t right, he didn’t have this many freckles and moles, he didn’t have…abs, if that’s what you could call the slight definition on his torso. Still it was more than his body had ever had. His skin…was itchy and mostly hairless.

Eddie reached up and touches his hair—shorter than he was used to, not curly…at all—then his face, as if that was any indicator to what he—

“A mirror!” He exclaimed. His voice…sounded familiar, but different. Fuck what kind of dream was this?

Because it had to be a dream right? It had to be. How else did he wake up in someone else’s body?

He pushed himself out of the bed, walking slightly off-cadence, which…yeah probably came with the territory of your brain needing to get used to a new body. Fuck…was his brain even his brain or did his mind just get transported what was happening?

Ugh it was too early to think about that.

Eddie slowly cracked the bedroom door open and peaked into the rest of the house. He spotted a bathroom just across the way, otherwise…shit, this place actually looked a little familiar. Where the fuck was he? Who the fuck was he?

He quickly crossed the landing into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him. He heaved a breath and leaned back against the door for a moment to calm himself; his hands were shaking and felt cold. Could he even feel his fingers? Nice to know the occasional nervousness that snuck up on him at his lowest moments hadn’t been left behind in his old body, that they’d followed him to this one.

His body…would it still be in his bed? What if he really had died and…had jumped into his new body? Was this reincarnation?

Fuck, if he was dead…Wayne would find him. Could he even…see his uncle again? How could he ever explain who he was?

Eddie felt the tears prick his eyes and his throat tighten and he slapped his face a few times.

“Come on man, come on,” he muttered. “It’s not that bad. It’s only…mildly awful. Fuck, ok. Just go, just look, just…rip it off like a bandaid.”

Eddie took a deep breath and nodded, then crossed the short distance to stand in front of the sink. He stared at his new feet, wiggled his new toes. You never…appreciated the toes you had until you have new ones.

That was awful and you’re an idiot. Just look.

Eddie closed his eyes again and turned his face up towards the mirror. He could do it. He would do it.

He opened his eyes.

“Jesus H. Christ!”

Steve woke up feeling like absolute shit. Everything ached—like he had pulled a muscle or something by sleeping crookedly—he had awful cottonmouth, and he had inhaled…some yarn or something because he woke up coughing and gagging until he got the intrusive strands out of his mouth.

“Gahh, shit, shit,” he said and scratched at his throat. He sounded hoarse. Ugh was he getting sick? He’d have to ask his mom to bring home some soup or something.

Could he call out of work? Shit he had to take Robin to school. She could walk today, he felt awful.

Steve blinked his eyes open and took in the unfamiliar popcorn ceiling with growing concern.

He looked around at the…piles of garbage and the cracks in the plaster walls partially covered by band posters...and felt the rise of panic grow within him. He tried to recall the night before.

He’d wrapped up his shift at Family Video, gone home and had a rare dinner with both of his parents, then…felt extremely tired and went to bed.

So how did he end up here…wherever here was?

This was a kidnapping; it had to be. He was…drugged—explained the cottonmouth—and kidnapped. And now someone was holding him for ransom or something to…blackmail his father? Thomas Harrington was kind of a dick sometimes, sure, but still…he was a pretty decent guy. Who would want to blackmail him?

“H-hello?” Steve called out. “Anyone there? C-can anyone hear me?”

There was some shuffling outside of the door of the room.

Thankfully Steve wasn’t tied up or anything. God, what kind of kidnappers were these? He quickly glanced around the room for a weapon of some sort and he immediately spotted...

A guitar? A few guitars actually. Man these kidnappers really liked music huh?

One was a weird shape--he'd seen some hair metal bands use guitars like that in magazines, but he'd never seen one in person--and was a mottled red color. One was just what you'd expect when someone said "electric guitar." And one was acoustic and looked like it could pack a real wallop.

Bingo.

Steve pushed himself out of the bed and immediately jumped because whatever had been in his mouth was on his shoulders now. He reached up to grab it: hair. Long, wavy, messy...knotty and frizzy. Like it hadn't been brushed for days, maybe weeks?

And his arm, sticking out from whatever t-shirt he'd been put in...was lithe and weak and there were tattoos. On both arms. A creepy claw hand and a bunch of bats.

What was this? How long had they held him hostage for? No wonder they didn't feel the need to tie him up! He'd been knocked out cold.

He needed to get out of here. Now. He needed to get home.

Steve crossed the room to grab the guitar when he noticed it. At first he thought it was another person. But no, it was just a mirror...and in the mirror...his reflection.

Only it wasn't...his reflection.

It had startled him and he had jumped. Then he moved his arms a little and watched the figure in the mirror mimic him. Over and over.

A wave, a turn, a funny face.

He couldn’t believe it. This had to be a joke. A dream. A nightmare.

Because it was him, his reflection. But it was not his—Steve Harrington’s—reflection.

It was Eddie Munson's.

#Eddie munson x reader #Eddie munson fluff #Eddie munson stranger things #Steve Harrington x reader #Steve Harrington stranger things #Eddie and steve #stranger things fic #Eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine #Steve Harrington imagine

[strongheartneteyam]

Realize where you belong.

Pairing: neteyam sully x female!dreamwalker!reader/female!human!reader

Chapter 4

CW: jealous neteyam, angst, restless neteyam, obsessive and toxic behavior, mentions of violence, neteyam's current mental health is not the best out there (let's put it that way), the word "bloody" being mentioned in someone's thoughts, TRIGGER WARNING for dubious consent and slight NON CON, angry thoughts, melancholic reader, hints of depression on reader, anxious reader, mentions of breeding kink, reader thinking a lot about neteyam, reader finds out she's crushing on neteyam, reader is afraid of neteyam + attracted to him, neteyam stepping over reader's boundaries, creepy yandere vibes, slight nudity, sexual tension, neteyam almost trying to have sex with reader (if you squint)

Not proofread… as always 😂 I'm so sorry PLS don't give up on me, my babies! My readers are my lil rays of sunshine! No false praising here, I'm way too much of an honest, and sometimes blunt bih to do that! Ahaha you guys have changed my life. Having you guys reading my stories, appreciating my art… I'm still speechless. I love y'all until the end! 🥲🥺🫀💕 when I'm sad, you guys cheer me up with your comments, reblogs, asks, likes… I'm forever thankful ✨ I'm sending A BIG KITH to everyone that commented on the other chapters! I didn't have enough time and mental/physical health to answer everyone bc I've been going through some tough things in my personal life lately. Like, REAL tough. But I always do my best to try and show my gratitude to all of you <3 hope you enjoy this chapter. Leave comments below if u wanna I LOOOOVE READING YOUR COMMENTS 🥰💕💕💕

Chapter 3

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Watching me, wanting me

I can feel you pull me down

Fearing you, loving you

I won't let you pull me down

Haunted (Evanescence)

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Hours had passed since Neteyam Suli had appeared to you in the window of the kitchen you worked in.

It was late at night already and you should be sleeping but, you just could not stop thinking about what had happened. How weird it had been to see a real na'vi - not an Avatar - real close. How odd he looked in your eyes, massive in size and so, so blue...

You laughed alone in your small room in the back of the laboratory after taking a quarter of a second to realize that the thought you just had was actually really funny.

Neteyam looked like a huge and thick brushstroke of sky blue paint. Still, he was… incredibly beautiful. He was eerie, weird looking compared to the human guys you're used to, but… something about him made his face linger on your mind.

You did not know how it was possible that you were finally having to admit to yourself that you felt attracted to Neteyam Suli, even after he appeared to you only once and, let's not forget, he appeared completely unanticipated, saying he had seen you before, multiple times.

You knew that raised like a billion red flags. Yet still, even though you did not feel safe enough to trust him or let your hair down when he was around, he intrigued you immensely.

༊⁀➷

You woke up the next morning feeling anxious. You did not know what it was exactly, but, lately, you had not only been depressed, but anxious too. You knew you probably would be diagnosed with clinical depression and anxiety if you cared to go to the mental health department of the laboratory, but the thing was… you did not care to. You did not want to. The real reason for your lingering sadness was already so familiar to you: you did not like the life you were living.

You looked to be free like the na'vi. To not have deadly boring obligations everyday, to not have to care so much about so many strict rules of what was socially acceptable and what was not. You thought your own race to be too complicated. Humans don't really say what they mean just so many times. Humans care too much about money and power when, in reality, deep down, we all know that's not what's gonna make us happy, what's gonna keep us warm in a cold night.

But you were never really like that.

Not to pretend you were a golden, precious jewel, so incredibly hard to find, so utterly different from everybody else but, in all honesty, as much as you did care about money and having a comfortable life - to some extent - you were never a greedy for riches kind of person. You had always felt perfectly happy and content to just have a few things to keep you cozy, like your earbuds, a good book, your favorite sweet treat… You liked it simple. Calm. Balanced.

You believed that everything needs to be balanced to work well.

Chaos and light. Pain and happiness.

People need all of it to learn, grow and live a good life, that doesn't get painfully boring and unbearable with time.

But humans lacked balance.

Too much greed, too little contentment. Too much hate, too little compassion. Too much selfishness, too little altruism. That's why your kind was, as unfortunate as it was, doomed to misery. The human race dug their own grave. God, they couldn't even respect and take care of their own planet, their own home, the place that kept them literally safe and steady in the middle of the immense galaxy, let alone being able to take care of each other, to consider other's feelings before their own because, sometimes, we all need to do it.

And that's one of the reasons why you admired the na'vi so much. They were so much more wise than your own race.

How many times you had wished, talking to yourself in the dark of the night, that you could have been born na'vi. Why was fate so cruel to you? You did not even believe in fate. But it is only an expression, anyway.

༊⁀➷

Neteyam was tossing around on his mat since he went back home from training.

Yesterday he was way too busy to try and go see you or at least watch you from afar.

Sometimes he truly felt exhausted from his hectic routine and just wished he could be like Lo'ak and the other Omatikaya young men and just be able to relax more, to have more free time to engage in hobbies or, Eywa... to have more time to sleep... Sometimes he went back home all sore. He was as athletic as one can be but it did not mean he could not feel jaded after pushing himself too hard.

But Neteyam tried to always keep in mind the noble, sacred reason why he did all that. He was going to be the next leader of his clan, a privileged position, blessed by the Great Mother. A position that so many wished to have and he was lucky enough to be waiting to take on.

He was the current Olo'eyktan's son. It was a gift, he should not be ungrateful. He felt bad for thinking that was exactly what he was being... His father, Jake, was Toruk Makto. He was brave enough to earn that title. Neteyam felt it was his duty to be as brave and fearless as his father, to honor him and all his efforts to defend their tribe from any danger, specially from the Sky People.

Everything was going as usual, if it was not for only one thing: Lo'ak seemed to be suspicious of the fact that Neteyam was out for so many hours, almost everyday (meaning, every time he was free to just do whatever he wanted and not training to become the next Olo'eyktan of the Omatikaya) and nobody had a clue of where he was.

His parents seemed to be too busy being the Olo'eyktan and the Tsahìk to notice something seemed off about Neteyam's behavior lately. And it is understandable. It was anything but easy to be the clan leader and the clan healer and spiritual leader. Mo'at was getting old and had passed the position of Tsahìk to Neytiri a while ago. So, Jake and Neytiri already were making such a huge effort to be able to live up to their duties, be parents of a little girl, Tuktirey, three teenagers and still keep their sanity. It was a lot, indeed. But they tried as hard as they could to still be good enough for their clan, their family and for each other, as a mated couple.

Neteyam decided he was way too restless to be able to sleep that night. He could not stop thinking about the way that human male talked to you, looked at you... He wondered if he really was your mate. He was not sure but if what he thought when he saw you two together was true, he knew it would not be a problem. He hated to get violent, his natural self was calm and composed. But he was going to fight for you, and, if it needed to get bloody, then so be it.

He decided to go outside his and his family's home, to breathe some cold, fresh eclipse air. It helped him to calm down a bit but it was not enough. He missed you. Like crazy. Deeply. He craved your scent… your delicious human scent. He did not even believe he was saying that about the way a human smelled. But he would always insist in saying you were different. You had a na'vi heart. Just like his father, back when he was still all pink and small.

He decided he wanted… no, he needed to see you. And it could not wait. It had to be now. He craved you and that craving would not go away like that. It was stronger than his rational brain. You woke up his animal side more than anything else did. He wanted to mate with you as soon as possible. He dreamt about the day he would be able to breed you, have you carrying his offspring on your womb. He would make you so happy, give you everything you've ever wanted, everything you need. And while you were still not permanently living inside your Avatar body, he still wanted to have you, even if it meant having you in your demon form. You were a pretty, lovely demon. His cute, sweet demon girl. His yawntutsyìp. (little loved one)

༊⁀➷

You just could not believe it was really happening, how the hell you got into those circumstances.

Right before that moment, you were almost sleeping peacefully, finally (you know that state when you're not awake nor asleep?), after having been awake, tossing around on your bed for hours for the most ridiculous reason you could ever think of: you were undeniably crushing on that weird alien boy. Neteyam Suli.

Yes, he acted like a creep when he tapped on your window. You knew it was pathetic but… he just would not leave your mind. He was shamefully living rent free in your brain. All cozy there.

But the worst and craziest part was: you were still afraid of him.

Ok, the na'vi were a peaceful, highly intelligent (arguably much more smart, interesting and wiser than humans) alien race but he was still almost 10 feet tall and was so freaking intimidating. You shivered at the thought that he could ever hurt you, even by accident, one day.

Still, you were now here with him. Outside the laboratory. Because he put his goddamn eerie but cute (the guy is a complete paradox) looking ocean colored fingers through the tiny gap you left open in your bedroom window - a passage you left for air to come in when it was really hot and dry, like it was that night - and that made a strange noise, enough to put you in alert mode.

Damn, what a bad habit… Leaving the window open, even slightly, was not even permitted by the people who took care of the lab's security norms. That could be dangerous. But you had always been a stubborn little thing.

You were now regretting your decisions, though. 

Neteyam approached your window being what he could be like a pro: a crazy stalker.

How you were still attracted to him… even though you were fearful of his na'vi build and strength… that was a question that maybe a mental health professional could answer. It was weird and problematic and you knew it. But you never imagined you would feel like this about Neteyam Suli. You really did not. When you first saw him, he seemed cute and handsome in your eyes, but he was still an alien. You had never considered being attracted to one. But now… nothing made sense anymore, things were getting weird.

Stupidity took over you when you were so sleepy and groggy and you saw it was his huge hand on the wooden window, so, you wanted to ask him why he ran away the last time you two spoke. You know when you're so sleepy, you make the most unimaginably silly mistakes? So… there you go. You dragged your heavy with slumber body out of your bed, grabbed your oxygen mask that was kept inside your closet and opened the window.

But why, though?

In the beginning, you two were having a trivial talk about mundane stuff, like how he learned the English language (his father, of course), he started to ask how and why you got an Avatar etc 

He acted suspicious but still normal-ish, for a na'vi. They always looked mysterious when interacting with humans. But then, when he was telling you about his little sister, Tuktirey, and your eyes were slowly falling shut, your body begging for some hours of sleep… you felt a change in the atmosphere around you.

Your eyes had closed for a while, on their own, and suddenly, you knew Neteyam was really close to you, now. He had been keeping a respectful distance in the beginning. But now… now he was inches away from your body. He had moved closer, his fleshy but toned blue thigh almost rubbing against your leg, as you were sitting sideways on the window frame, your legs hanging in the air, making you feel a bit cold because of the nighttime Pandoran air.

You woke up from your 5 seconds long involuntary nap really startled.

"Hey! Why are you… so close?" You looked at him, dazed and nervous, visibly shaken

"Sorry… Is it too much? You're just… so pretty…" Neteyam says, looking at you like he's looking at a graceful, otherworldly being.

"Yeah. It is." You warn him "Can you… step away a bit, please?" You said, looking into his eyes. Your gaze serious but amiable.

Neteyam respected your request and did what was decent. But you did not expect that he would soon change his demeanor, just like something was taking over him.

You were so distracted with your chat with Neteyam but so utterly sleepy too that you did not notice when your nightgown's thin strap slipped through your right shoulder, leaving your breast exposed, your nipple out for Neteyam to see.

It was like a beast had replaced that nice-but-weird-vibes guy you were previously talking to.

Neteyam had just lifted you off of the window with amazing ease, your feet now touching the ground and he got closer to you again. He had you with your back against the lab's outer wall, keeping you there just by being in front of you, looking at you.

His size was enough to keep you still. You did not want him to maybe get mad at you if you tried to run away. That could become terrifying in a heartbeat. You were brave since a child, but you were also realistic. Your height and body strength was nothing compared to Neteyam's.

He looked at your exposed breast with such desire, you felt like his amber gaze was scorching your sensitive skin.

"Neteyam! What-?"

"You're so… perfect." His breath was labored while he stared down at your nipple, hardened by the cold temperature of the eclipse air "Sevin…" (pretty)

"I'm so afraid of you, Neteyam... You're too big and honestly...scary. I'm so sorry. I'm always trying to pick up signals that may indicate you're gonna hurt me. I don't feel comfortable at all right now. Please, let me go" You said as your cold, anxious hands took your nightgown strap back to where it belonged, covering your boob again, feeling ashamed of the vulnerable way you had just been seen by Neteyam, ashamed of the fact that he, a boy you barely knew, had just seen your naked breast, even if it was only for a brief period of time

"My cute little 'emyu…" (cook, cooker) "You don't need to be afraid of me." He smiles at you in such a sincere way, trying to show you he means no harm whatsoever. 

Though Neteyam felt his heart tightening way too much inside his chest, hurting so much it was like you had crushed it when you said you're afraid of him, he was carefully trying to make you see he would never in a billion years harm you, his precious little yawne (loved one).

He wished so hard, even prayed to Eywa, in a millisecond, inside his mind, that you would soon realize he loved you so much he would kill anyone who ever hurt your precious, frail human body. He could not understand how you could think he himself would do such a horrible thing towards you.

When Neteyam saw you did not show any sign that you were beginning to trust him more, he said:

"Hì'i," (little, small in size) "please... I need you... I love your scent so much. I miss it everytime I'm away from you. I love the way your human skin smells. I do. I dream about you at night... " He gets closer to you slowly and carefully, caging you between the wall and his broad, crazily tall blue body, leaving no way for you to get away from him "C-can I touch you? Touch your skin?" Neteyam breathes, begging for you with his wide eyed gaze "Just for a little while, please..." He kneels down at the ground to be as close as he possibly can to your height "See? I'm not so tall anymore. Am I a little less scary now?" He smiles faintly, trying to cover his pain with a fake demonstration of joy.

Neteyam feels so insecure, without any guarantee that you will eventually let him in. But he will never give up on trying to be worthy of your love.

"You're always gonna be scary to me. Even when I'm in my Avatar, I think." Using a sharp na'vi knife to stab Neteyam's heart repeatedly would have hurt him less than that statement "I'm not as skilled as you are or experienced as you are when it comes to using a bow or anything like that. God, I can't even work a bow right. If you'd ever hurt me, even by accident I-"

"I can teach you." He interrupted "I will teach you everything I know about archery. I'm a great archer, you know? I like to call myself "Mighty Warrior". " He smiles, frowning a bit, trying to make a joke to make the situation a little lighter.

You seemed so afraid he was starting to not know what to do anymore to try to make you see you were safe with him. That he would defend you from any danger without any hesitation and not be the danger himself.

༊⁀➷

Taglist:

@kitsunefirewail

@tumblingdevils

@a-blog-name-2003

@xylobee

@nerdybouquetofkittens-blog

@henhouse-horrors

@lala-1516

@xylianasblog

@samistars

@lik0

@crazy4books1

@explosiongamora

@your-girl-mj

@darktyrantwinner

@sereisstuff

@yeosxxx

@die4niyahhh

@iman-lu

@manumanulau

@im-in-a-pansexual-panik

@hana-yuri

@thehoneymushroomhealer

@melllinaa

@annaibansworld

@siriuslysmoking

@avatar4eva

#neteyam x you #neteyam sully x human reader #neteyam x female reader #neteyam x human reader #neteyam x na'vi!reader #neteyam x y/n #neteyam sully x y/n #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam x reader #neteyam fanfiction #neteyam sully #avatar neteyam #neteyam atwow #neteyam angst #avatar fanfic #na'vi x human reader #neteyam x human #neteyam sully x you #neteyam x female human reader #kxamtxomaw writes ♡

[ye4gerism]

𝑨𝑳𝑳 𝑰𝑺 𝑭𝑨𝑰𝑹 𝑰𝑵 𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑾𝑨𝑹 - 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐈𝐍 𝐗 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

word count 1.8k

content warning light smut - in fact it’s not even that descriptive🧍🏾‍♀️

author’s note finally back after so long - i HAVE been writing though and have a story in my back pocket that im excited to drop! :3 this is the story i was looking for beta readers for - i didn’t get any 🧍🏾‍♀️ so i’m just dropping this first chapter to get interest. if not, i’ll just release a chapter at least weekly! this is also my attempt at mature content, so bear with me as we test this out. my requests are open - so feel free to read my guidelines on my pinned and hit my inbox 😝 update: part two !!

synopsis after the rumbling, you found yourself on your feet in your home town. you have a completely new life - you’re watching your country be built again and now you have a fiancé! what happens when a man from your past reaches out to you via letter?

853

His air fills your nose as you press against him. Your breaths are labored from placing your lips where you can, hands frantic.

The adrenaline lowers and you're both back to your senses. Your clothes are scattered everywhere on your bedroom floor. He lowers you onto the bed, his heavy hands resting on your lower back as you arch into the sheets. His lips love on your collarbones and find their way to your belly button. You shudder as he moves lower and lower until that wave of unfamiliar excitement washes over you.

You're breathing heavily as he places kisses all over your face and body. He takes care of you at the end; he makes sure you're clean, warm, and comfortable. You enjoyed your night; never had you thought you'd fall head over heels for a man you met just a few days ago but here you are.

You watched as he went between putting on his clothes and looking for items he was missing. Once he was fully clothed, it finally hit you that he didn't have plans to stay the night. Your body shot up from the bed. "Jean..." Your voice trails off, pleading.

He looks over his shoulder. He finishes his look by putting his fedora on. "You know I'd love to stay...but I have somewhere to be." Regret travels through Jean's voice. He turns away from you, pretending to fix his tie.

His shoulders are tense. He takes a few deep breaths before looking at you once more. "Tonight will be my last night seeing you." The satisfaction from the night immediately vanished. Your confusion is loud. Jean sighs as he continues to straighten himself out. "I can't explain it to you now but within the next few days...months, it'll all make sense..." In the soft candlelight in your bedroom, you can see the sadness in his eyes. You wanted to question him but considering the look on his face, you decide that it's probably best for you not to know.

You can't watch him. Jean opens the front door; under the door frame, he looks at your back. He opens his mouth but closes it instead. There was no point. He'd never see you again.

After his exit, you contemplated the possible explanation for his exit. It all didn't come together until weeks after the new year of 854 when Paradis launched its attack on Marley.

Spring 857

To whom it may concern,

I didn't think it'd be appropriate to address this letter with 'Dear Ms. L/N' considering our history and the events after but I still felt the need to reach out to you.

It's been four years now? Or at least approaching four years, considering our meeting was in the summer.

I owe you an explanation. I am a Subject of Ymir from Paradis Island. At the period that we met, I was on a trip with other Subjects; it was our first time off of the island. We were there, curious about our enemies and how our military forces should move forward. I met you and you know the rest of that story. Other than my constant visits with you, I and a few others sat through countless meetings hearing about how we Subjects couldn't be "cured" or "forgiven" of our crimes.

Meeting you wasn't on my agenda. No one knew about you. During that time. I felt like the world felt like it was crashing down on me and then came you, my short-lived saving grace.

Because of my actions during the Rumbling, my home, Paradis, has outcasted me and considered me a traitor for being one of the pieces that stopped it. I live life as a Peace Ambassador now. I've been all over the place - helping rebuild cities and building connections with refugees who are still working on getting their lives back. I do live in Paradis from time to time. My mother still lives there.

I learned about you from asking around. I'm so grateful that you evaded the Rumbling. I don't know how I would feel if you passed.

Longing to see you,

Jean Kirstein, Alliance Peace Ambassador

Mister Ambassador,

Hi. Thank you for reaching out to me. It's been a very long time and I've struggled. Went from being a woman who traveled regularly to being trapped because of the bombs and titans that were dropped everywhere. I am lucky that I have made it out with my life.

Now that I have a proper explanation, I don't feel as upset as I did seeing your letter in my mailbox. I am glad you are safe for the most part.

I am with someone. Set to be married within the next few months if life in Anahg, or the Southern Nations as the world calls it now, improves slightly more. My fiancé's name is Sebas Abe. Considering that you're from Paradis, I don't know how much you know, but he was an important political figure and diplomat for Hizuru. He was just at the wrong place at the wrong time during, what you call, the Rumbling. He's a part of the rebuilding process here in Anahg but he misses his diplomat job dearly. He loved traveling the world, so he told me.

I'm curious, how is life in Paradis? Considering you're a traitor?

Y/N L/N

Miss L/N,

Beautiful last name. I didn't mean to come on so hard in my first letter. Congratulations on your engagement, you deserve it. I am also sorry about everything you've been through. If you don't mind me asking, what happened on your end? If it's too invasive of a question, I certainly understand. It's just something that peaks my interest considering what I do for work.

Anahg and the rest of the Southern Regions have yet to be touched by our growing alliance. I guess the focus is to rebuild the relationship between Marley and Paradis and gain the trust of other countries that weren't destroyed by the Rumbling.

If your fiancé is still interested in ambassador work, I don't mind putting in the good word for him. I have close connections to those in Hizuru, one of Paradis's allies.

Life on the island is hard. I don't get hassled a lot in my hometown; my mother was an important part of some of our neighbors' lives. I guess they feel wrong treating me differently. But I will say that I feel lonelier. I will never share a barrack, train, or be a part of a military branch again. I'm the age where I'm supposed to be at least courting someone or going out with a small group of friends but with, one, members of the Alliance being so busy and, two, my status as a traitor makes it hard to come across people my age.

I don't leave Trost, my home, to visit other parts of the island unless I really need to. Getting on transportation for work is quicker when no one is interested in speaking to you.

Jean Kirstein, Alliance Peace Ambassador

Mister Ambassador,

Well, if you're so curious, Mr. Ambassador, it's something I'd rather not relive - That's how my experience went. Eren Yeager ruined my life. I don't blame him for being angry; if the whole world was laughing at my existence, I'd bring Hell onto Earth too. But that doesn't take away that my life was taken away. Since then, I'm fortunate enough that I was able to come back home to Anagh, that it's growing once again, and that I have someone by my side. My life isn't the best but it's better than it was days before the Rumbling.

I'm sorry that your community has turned on you that way. Loneliness is one hell of a disease. I'd rather be berated than silently deal with my own sadness. I hope that doesn't sound offensive.

Y/N L/N

Miss L/N,

No, that isn't offensive. I sometimes wish my life was as vocal as my other friends but at the same time, I'm grateful for the dirty looks. I just wish I wasn't so in my head sometimes.

What do you mean your life now is better than the one before the Rumbling? Are you insinuating something in your previous letter? The way I remember it, I sure damn well made those last few days memorable and exciting. Your body told me so itself.

I understand I left suddenly and inappropriately but that doesn't mean you get to dismiss and deny what we had.

I thought about you too many times as I traveled. When I was alone, I thought of you and your silky skin and your pretty lips. Your body against mine.

You could be ignoring my correspondence, for the sake of your dear Sebas, but we both know why you continue to write back.

Jean Kirstein

Fall 857

Mister Ambassador,

I am married now - since the summer.

Leave it in the past, Mr. Ambassador.

Hopefully, you can continue to write me as a friend and not as a lover.

Thank you,

Mrs. Y/N Abe

Dear Mrs. Abe,

Oh, forgive me for defending my honor. I can't have you on the other side of the world trashing my character. I was hurt by my initial assumption - that you haven't confirmed.

Congratulations.

Does your husband still want to work with the Alliance? How is Anahg - from the view of someone living there? There is an opening if your husband is still interested. Negotiations with Marley are taking somewhat of a positive turn. I don't think they're completely on our side but with the help of Hizuru, we'll reach common ground.

I've been courting here and there but nothing's stuck.

I don't mind being your friend, but that also may mean that I'll stop my correspondence.

Jean Kirstein, Alliance Peace Ambassador

Mister Ambassador,

What assumption do I have to confirm? Do you want me to be direct?

Thinking of you reminds me of what followed. The confusion and loss I felt. And the loneliness.

But, Mr. Ambassador Kirstein, ever since you've written me, when my husband is out doing his work and I'm alone, I find myself, regretfully, thinking about you and those nights before you left. And I hate it...and enjoy it. I hate it so much.

I am supposed to be loyal to my husband and yet here you are. What are the odds that you'd reenter my life? And you're not even physically by my side. I crave you. I'd do anything to have you in my proximity one more.

But for the sake of my image and my marriage, leave it in the past.

Mrs. Y/N Abe

Mrs. Abe,

Thank you for your honesty. It truly is a shame that your husband and my work are limitations. If things were in my control, I'd stop writing this letter and would be on my way to Anahg to satisfy you once more. I owe you a proper apology after my absence all these years.

I want to honor you and forget everything happened but it seems impossible now. Can you really go back to your normal life, being Mr. Sebas Abe's wife, after what you've just confessed to me?

Please, call me Jean.

Jean Kirstein, Peace Ambassador

#black reader #black yn #aot x black reader #aot x reader #jean kirstein x reader #jean x black!reader #jean x reader #jean kirschstein x black reader #jean kirstein x black reader #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirschtien #jean kirstein #x black reader

[funficwriter]

A Wolf and A Snake (Wriothesley x Reader)

Letters' Interlude - 1

A/N: So these aren't official chapters per say, just an extra to the story that explores the yandere dynamic I'm trying to put forth! Also, I love listening to romantic music while writing for this 🩵 Until I finish Chapter 2, enjoy!

Synopsis: Being a noble meant that marriage was a chess game, not an affair of love. Unfortunately for the pristine Balthazar family of Fontaine, Y/N has long been enamored with love and sought it out before their priorities. After her grey, boring time of courtesy and fake niceness, she meets Duke Wriothesley, who makes her yearn for the first time in her life, and it's the same for him. Threatened by the idea of losing this first, it seems they'll stop at very little to be together...

Warnings: Obsessive yandere language, graphic details in Wriothesley's.

Tag: @yue-caelum

From: Lady Y/N Balthazar - Balthazar Vacation Manor, Belleau Region, Fontaine

To: Duke Wriothesley of Meropide - Fortress of Meropide, Liffey Region, Fontaine

Dearest Duke,

I am not quite sure how to begin or structure my thoughts, so I hope you forgive me if this letter turns out messy. It's barely been 24 hours since our fateful meeting and I finally got some privacy. I should interest you in the fact that today's tea is Earl Grey. I'm having it right now, accompanied by a chocolate and strawberry mille-feuille. If you're ever feeling bold, I'd recommend this combination. Quite the contrast on the taste buds.

I realized that even with our cadence and how we enjoyed chatting together, there's still so much to know. How have you been doing? I'm presuming you're at the Fortress. How is life there? How do you spend your days there? Is it a lot of work? You told me a bit of the nurse. Sigewinne, if I recall correctly. Does she have a lot of patients? And what tea do you drink when you're feeling so tired and done with the world? (I'm partly asking this one for myself. Some days are like that.).

Though I must say, since Liffey is a bit far from Romaritime or the Court's region, you must have a good teleportation waypoint. Belleau is far, too, but by Focalors' name it is enjoyable. It's quiet, lush and lovely. The water is so nice to swim in too. I find that regular swimming is one of the most beautiful parts of my day. I might be heading into more dangerous territory saying this, but I believe you'd enjoy it a lot if I took you with me. If you had a day off and I showed you around, we could then swim in one of the lakes. It's so refreshing and fun, and a good break from the city.

Don't get me wrong; I love its bustle and life. But I know when we return, I'm going to have to look over these boring nobles' declarations, and meet with them more often. Speaking of which, I'm sorry to sound so forward, but... Well, are you interested in carrying this further?

I'd like to tell you something about my worldview. As you know, I read a lot, but last night I couldn't get into the 'why' due to mother's timing. As a child, I felt strangely bored with existence, maybe to a worrying point. That would explain my parents' fretting. I liked the dance and violin lessons, but there was something about my books that gave my gray life a bit of color. Unfortunately, having to come back to real life was a painful must. There were times where I thought to myself: "Is this really life? Boring, plain, and feeling wrong for watching everyone's intense reactions while I derived joy from so few things?". I didn't even want to think about my future as I become a woman. This was all before we met.

Ah, Wriothesley! I've been imagining it over and over in my head! I even stood outside in the cold and closed my eyes and pretended you were right next to me... Imagine my pain when I confronted reality, mixed with the excitement I felt remembering you! Even now, I can't stop kicking my feet as I write this. For the very first time, I was proven wrong. I was mistaken about life, and who said mistakes were bad? After years of chasing perfection, believing it was beauty and goodness... Why, I might have committed the most beautiful fault in existence!

Will you please prove me wrong again? I know I might get greedy and stick to my old worldview, just for it to happen again. But I swear, I'll be good and I'll stop. I just want to feel my entire body and soul rattling in excitement once more. And you're the only one that happens with.

Mother and Father are planning another social, soon after we return to the Court's region. My understanding says you're not often social, so if you don't want any part of it (or even, if I'm being too intense), discard this letter. I must go now, but if you're as invested as I, I will be awaiting a response. And if Celestia is kind, I will be open for more. I'll be open for anything if it's with you.

Yours truly,

Lady Y/N Balthazar

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

From: Duke Wriothesley of Meropide - Fortress of Meropide, Liffey Region, Fontaine

To: Lady Y/N Balthazar - Balthazar Vacation Manor, Belleau Region, Fontaine

To my cherished Lady,

I would like to start off by expressing my most feverish thanks, for reasons beyond enumeration. You taking the time to send me this lovely letter is the least of them. It is generally good form for a Duke to answer quick when he can, but I was so overjoyed with your letter's contents, I re-read it many times to take in all the joy you graced me with. I was also very touched with your personal confiance in me, so I'm also writing to return the favor.

First off, do you know how much I yearn to hear about your day, down to the little details? You talked a good deal about Belleau. I didn't care much about that region before, but now? All I've been thinking about is those fresh waters and woods you praised so highly. The only imagination I entertained was you, holding my hand, whispering that there were no nosy gossipers or greedy parents. Just the two of us, and the lake was all ours to swim in until we couldn't.

If it makes you laugh, I thought about it so much, I almost mistakenly wrote some prisoners' region tab as Belleau. Had Sigewinne not been near, the administrative mistake would have been a pain to fix. Are you laughing? I hope for it with all my heart.

And I want to know more. I want to know whether Earl Grey is your favorite, or you're only taking it because it's been brewed at that time. I want to know which chocolate you like best. Which books you're currently reading, and why you're so interested in lycanthropes without a hint of discrimination. Will you tell me more? If we get the chance to talk with less barriers, will you enlighten me with you?

After getting to know your old worldview, I question just how alike we are. It's easy for two people to share superficial interests. But when one feels so dissected, so naked knowing about another's deeper life and secrets, you can't help but question whether Celestia really does link souls. Whether you once knew them, or whether fate can be so perfect to send such a person your way. I'm sure you felt terrified writing it. Your mailbox may be private, but who knows when your family feels nosy and reads it? You know of the risks that come with such correspondence, especially as a maiden. Despite that, you didn't throw it into the trash. You wrote it, and sent it to me, letting me know about you. You may have just intoxicated me, and now I feel like I might die if that is all I know of you.

As respect to this, I'll confide in you, only it may be a little graphic. "If you feel queasy after this, feel free to end our correspondence here."... Is what I wish I could say with full honesty, because after that night, I'm not sure whether I can really be okay with that outcome.

I used to commit crime, both petty and serious. Such was the life of an orphan at the time. Being little fish wasn't an option; You had to be the top dog or get eaten alive. I opted for the first, even if it landed me in prison later on. My convictions range quite a bit, but once I grew up, I renounced crime. Even insignificant things. I wanted to leave that behind me.

Forget the obvious stealing sweets from the kitchen. When I saw that slimy Duke Arya talking to you, touching your shoulder, acting as if he always knew you and your wedding was tomorrow, I never felt the urge to murder as much as I did that night. The reasons behind my old violent crimes felt so small next to the ugly sight in front of me. You clearly didn't want him, but he kept going, as if you'd magically change your mind and be into slimeheads like him. How dare he be the reason you were pulled apart from me? Where does he get the gall to take you, act like you're owed to him if your parents decided?

How I wanted to end his pathetic standing, laughing, breathing. How I wanted to use my vision and punch his head out into an ice block, then freezing his wrangling body so he wouldn't mess up the carpet. How I wanted to lunge at him, bite, claw and make a bloody mess out of him. What did it matter if I perpetuated half-wolf stereotypes, when he was doing this? Which would hurt him more? Only one idea stopped me: You might not react to a show of violence so well. Oh, if I traumatized you, I'd never forgive myself. Being sent back to jail would be too light a punishment for a beast like that.

Please don't worry about transport, or ask about my attendance. I'm determined to attend that social. I'm so happy you told me about this in advance; I'm going to be seeing you, in all your radiance and beauty that make the world pale. So long as that happens, all is well for now. In the meantime, I'm adding some final touches to my declaration, and eagerly waiting for our next meeting, and hopefully the time I can freely take you into my arms, kiss you and prove the both of us wrong about everything.

With all the love I can hold,

Duke Wriothesley

#genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin x reader #yandere wriothesley #yandere wriothesley x reader #yandere reader #yandere fontaine x reader

[tenthousandyearsx]

Thanks so much for tagging me @wolfpants, I loved reading yours! I've pretty much only published lots of PWPs so far, and while I loved writing every single fic I've posted, self-recs always feel a bit weird. x_x Anyway, I'll give it a go!

Rules: Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you’ve written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💙

​‎ㅤ

Passably Wrecked (Drarry, E, 4.6k)

“Potter,” Malfoy says, sitting down next to him at breakfast. “I think we should have sex.”

Starting with this one because it's fairly recent and I don't think I've shared it here! Malfoy expresses scepticism about Harry's sexual prowess. Harry is having none of it.

​‎‎ㅤ

Keep your hands on me (Drarry, E, 21k)

Malfoy binds himself with a sex curse. Harry cannot get enough (but would much prefer to keep Malfoy for himself).

Still the filthiest thing I've written imo – it's 21k of smut and I didn't self-censor at all, but I ~think~ I consider it porn with character development rather than pwp. I wrote the whole thing in a daze, which is my favourite way to write when the muses allow – and to my absolute astonishment (I was sure it was going to get hate), it tends to get my favourite comments too. ​‎‎ㅤ

Just a trial run (Drarry, E, 9k)

Potter in his living room was a novelty and Draco could not take his eyes off him. He fixed both of them a drink, handed Potter his Firewhisky, then sat on the sofa. “From Saviour to Auror to whore,” he said. Potter choked on his drink. “Tell me, Potter, how does that happen?” In which Harry wants to get into sex work and Draco would prefer to keep him for himself.

I'm very fond of this fic and this Draco. I wrote it while I was working on KYHOM because I wanted to try a somewhat similar premise with the opposite dynamic, with top Draco and a more submissive Harry. It has both a paid sex kink and alcohol kink, which I have no idea where they came from, and while I've been postponing doing some proper edits on the second chapter, I absolutely loved writing it. ​‎‎ㅤ

Trouble with your tie, Potter? (Drarry, E, 6.7k)

The last thing Harry expects when Slughorn partners him up with Zabini is Malfoy shooting them furious looks throughout the whole class and then unceremoniously snogging Harry in the corridor.

My Erised fic from last year! I was actually working on something else entirely, a much longer fic that fizzled and died on me halfway through. I have a self-imposed rule that the energy of a story has to be right and has to be such that the story drives itself – and, specifically for fic, that if I don't enjoy writing it, there's no point in doing it. So when writing a fic becomes a slog, I just go back and delete mercilessly. It still didn't help in this case though x_x, so I started writing "Trouble with your tie" instead, which was an absolute joy to work on and I'm so happy I did. There are some parts I still think I'll probably rewrite at some point, but I really loved writing H and D's dynamic here. Even though I don't agonise over my prose when I write fic, I am super careful about the energy I'm putting out and especially the feeling I'm leaving the reader with at the end, so I'm really happy they hit the mark in this case. ​‎‎ㅤ

Not very gallant (initial Dronarry but endgame Dron, E, 3.3k)

“He likes it when I hurt him,” Harry tells Ron with a smirk. “And then you come in and soothe him.”

I wanted to include a non-drarry fic so here's a very recent one! I think I probably could have done more with it, but I loved writing Ron in this. Please mind the tags!!! Everything is super undernegotiated!!! It's endgame Dron, but Harry is perfectly fine with it. I should also probably mention that Harry is a bit of an asshole in this fic compared to the way I usually write him, but because I usually write Drarry and wanted this to be endgame Dron, I had to find a way for the dynamic to be in character, hot, and sexually charged, but not in a way that made me ship drarry too much. I'm also usually not good with threesomes or poly relationships because I always feel like someone is left out x_x, so I tried to put my own spin on it. This is what worked for me and I loved writing it! Do not expect considerate behaviour for like... most of it though.

Tagging @crazybutgood , @magpiefngrl , @orange-peony , @lumosatnight and anyone who'd like to join!

#tag game #mind the tags in each fic!!! #drarry #drarry fic #drarry fanfic #dmhp #hpdm #harry x draco #draco x harry #drarry smut #my fics #dron #dronarry

[luvly-writer]

"XOXO"

Ch. 7 Angel and Ivy

-•-

Autho's note: I am trying to post as long as I have a free space. I am genuinely excited for this story and it has me going. Hope you enjoy another chapter!

Warnings: None

Taglist: @w31rdg1rl @mxtokko @loonymoonystuff @grandstrangerphanthom @1lellykins

Masterlist:

"Tim...Tim...TIM! Are you listening to me?!" Snapped Y/n. She was currently taking a bubble bath with Tim on the phone as they discussed their next move. On the other hand, Tim tried his hardest to divide his attention between the girl and the case board in the apartment. He had his headpiece on as he observed the evidence in front of him. "Yes, angel face, I am listening"

"What did I just tell you then?" she quipped sounding exasperrated.

"If you must know, you just told me that I must make an appearance as your date for the winter debutant dinner because now that your parents are aware of my existence and that it is quote-on-quote serious, they want to meet me and that it is important that I make a good impression especially since Mr. Morris is going to be there."

"Hmm, good, you were listening. As I was saying. Ever since the picture of our kiss, every time we go out to dinner or lunch, or brunch, or just any time we have been pictured together these last few weeks, they throw remarks on how good of a man you could actually be for me when Morris is right there. They keep inviting him for dinner, Tim! They are still pushing! They still see this as a temporary thing and not something serious!" she said exasperated.

"It IS temporary" he adds hearing her groan.

"Timothy that is so not the point! You have to make the impression of the century so that they turn their attention to you or at least consider you a runner-up in the race. I can't keep on hearing about which opera Francis enjoys more and which book I should read next to have conversation topics with him and what play is playing so that Francis can take me with him to see if we give it a chance-"

"His name is Francis...Francis Moris?" asked Tim containing his laughter. He put on some gloves and began examining a new formula that was found by Jason at Avery Park. "His parents didn't love him I see, with a name like that?" He said as he began to laugh

"THAT IS SO NOT THE POINT" She whined.

"Are you sinking on the bubbles again?" he asked amusedly. In the last few weeks, they had actually started finding out that they enjoyed each other's company. Having to share many dinners, brunches, lunches, and even some breakfasts, they found some common interest reluctantly. "Yes but only because there is this stupid boy unwilling to focus on the important details. My life is on the line." she grumbled

"I can assure you it isn't" he quipped back and laughed once again as she let out a string of curses. "It might as well be, Tim!" she said.

"Since you won't take the downfall of my life seriously, what are you doing?" she asked boredly

"Inspecting some substances that were found in Avery Park for Batman," he said taking notes on what he was seeing.

"Substances on Avery Park? That sounds...messy. Please tell me that none of the rouges are planning to attack this weekend. We really do need to make that apperance." she said leaning back and closing her eyes.

"Well, we hope not. Poison Ivy has been extremely suspicious the last few weeks. We have no idea when or where or if she might strike." he said.

"Hmmm, probably at the Chefield's gala in three weeks. He is making a new investment in the small clearing in Avery Park intending to build a new power plant that will go directly to his hotel. It's close to a small river and all the construction will cause major damage to the already decreasing green areas of Gotham. It is a pity, that place is beautiful. Clara, Satine, and I would escape there every once in a while to have a picnic." Y/n expressed as she finally began getting out of the bath and drying herself. Tim's eyes opened, this was new information to him and it helped the case greatly.

"How do you know this?" He questioned

"Oh, through Satine. She has been trying to convince Senator Gomez to decline his contract. If that doesn't work, Clara has all the information ready to blackmail him into declining. She will tell his wife that Satine is not the first one of his lovers and that the real reason the kid's maid had to be sent away was because she was pregnant with his child. Plus, my mother and Mrs. Chefield have tea every second Saturday of the month, and because of so, I got early access to the invitation. This also means that if he doesn't believe Clara's threats to air him, she will tell me so that I let it slip to her during one of her meetings with my mother. Either way, the options are either he declines or his career and family life are over. I am sure that a cheating scandal and an unsupported child with the finishing touch of a divorce won't look good for the upcoming elections."she explains leaving Tim amazed.

"Who would have known you three were bitches for a good cause" he said making her laugh, a sound that was surely growing on him.

"Like the bitchy Charlie's Angels" she joked as a response

"Whose Charlie then?" he asked

"I don't know, sometimes morality and justice, sometimes revenge, sometimes self-gain, depends on the highest bidder," she responded, her tone full of humor.

"On a serious note, you really think that is when she will strike?"

"Oh absolutely, good thing it will probably be canceled so, people won't be harmed right?"

"You have no idea the advantage that you have granted to us," he said as he began typing a message relaying this entire information to Bruce.

"It's a good thing to always have connections, I guess," Y/n said as she finished her routine and got ready for bed. She placed her cell phone on the pillow next to her head as she got comfortable. She had to fight the yawn that was escaping her. Unfortunately, Tim heard it and stopped what he was doing.

"Before you go, what color is your dress for the debutante's dinner? I want to match my tie with it."

"It's light blue with a lot of sparkles," she said with a dreamy tone.

"You like your sparkle don't you?" he asked amused at her cute tired state.

"Who doesn't?! Sparkles are the highlight of Christmas. Snowflakes, ornaments, snow, everything sparkles! Plus, who doesn't love Christmas? It's the best time of the year!" she said, sleep-slurring her voice. "You don't have to match...thank you though" she said.

He smiled at his phone. "Good night, angel face. You can barely speak coherently." "Yeah, stay safe and warm tonight, Timmy. I need you there."

"Of course, angel. I will be there. Thank you for the information on Poison Ivy." he answered before hanging up. Every day he learned something new about Y/n. She had this facade of being a stone-cold bitch yet, once you work past that she really was just a girl. She was sentimental, always keeping every letter and small sweet thing given to her. She was sweet to the elderly and surprisingly never acted snobby with anyone who worked for her. The maid, butler, and drivers were always treated fairly and you could see that they cared for the girl. She tipped fairly in the restaurants and had a surprisingly good sense of humor. Given another circumstance, he had deduced he was sure they would have been friends...maybe even more.

---

fun facts:

tim started caller her angel face after the post. He originally said it sarcastically because of how much of a nightmare she can be, but stuck with it just cause he really thinks she looks and is an angel. That’s her contact name.

Y/n loves it.

-•-

#batfamily #tim drake #dick grayson #jason todd #batman #batfam #cassandra cain #alfred pennyworth #stephanie brown #damian wayne #bruce wayne #duke thomas #barbara gordon #tim drake x fem!reader #tim drake x you #tim drake x reader #tim drake x y/n #tim drake imagine #batkids #batfam imagine #batfamily social media #batfam dc #batfam au #batfam x you #batfam x reader #batfamily x you #batfamily x reader #dc reader insert #dc batman #dcau

[mrstsugikuni]

"His moonlight."

Summary:

(name) kibutsuji is the daughter of muzans kibutsuji and out of all his off spring she has proven herself worthy to him. Kokushibo always saw her as distraction since muzan has actually taken a liking to her and actually loved her, he was almost always busy spoiling her and giving her his attention. Kokushibo never understood why until he finally saw what he saw his heart taking it's first beat in 500 years.

This whole story will be in kokus pov. Unless said other wise in one of the chapters!

WARNING: The story itself WILL contain suggestive scenes, and/or sexual encounters. I will put a warning before the scene so you can skip if you're not comfortable. Anyways enjoy the story lovelies 🫶

Chapter 1.

Muzans did it again. He brang his daughter to the meeting. Oh how I hate her with every non living gut in my body, I can't stand her unique eyes, her smile that's almost like the sun, and just everything about her! I'm so sick of her I wish muzans never even saw anything in her and she'd disappear!

I just don't understand, why is she so favored she hasn't been alive that long at all! Just 21 years, so why her from any of us! Why her and not me! She's just like yoriichi and I hate that! Why can't he see she's just like him! It isn't fair.

I bowed before my master, even if I did believe he was being foolish for this girl. But I'm being even more foolish or childish as some would say because of the way I'm acting about this. I mean it's just some girl, nothing more. I just don't understand why he's still keeping her so close like she's 5, she's an adult.

"kokushibo, please refrain yourself from staring at my daughter!" I heard my master, was I staring? I mean I knew I was zoning out from my jealous thoughts but I didn't think I was staring. "Yes, master sorry." I bowed my head to stare at the floor and not his disgusting daughter since I was apparently staring.

"I will be going somewhere for a while, Tomorrow I will decide who shall take care of her and I don't wanna hear any complaints if I choose one of you." Muzans said, and knowing my luck he might choose me since he trusts me more than any of them.

Suddenly I felt a pair of eyes on me, I looked up once more scanning the room for who might be staring and that's when I met her eyes, that brat.

Her face flushed red as she looked away and hid behind her father, I rolled eye's and looked back down not wanting to part take in her childish acts.

I simply wasn't interested.

The meeting was over and muzans had asked for us to get to know her while he went off to think by himself for a bit. It seemed as of tho she wasn't interested in what any of them were talking about but I would find her trying to look for someone probably me, luckily I was hiding.

Without even realizing it, I felt a presence behind me and I knew exactly who it was. "what do you want?" I asked trying to get this useless conversation over with. "Well, my father told me to get to know everyone so that includes you as well!" She gave me her signature smile and I couldn't help but grimace at such a face.

Disgusting. *perfect?* No.

Her eyes fluttered open like a princess under the night sky with moonlight shining on her perfectly shaped face.

Ugly. *Pretty..* No!

Her eyes capturing mine sealing them in as she continued to talk to me in her little sweet voice or what ever.

Obnoxious. *Funny!* NO!

These unwanted comments bubbling in my head piss me off. I hate her more than anything. There isn't a day where I don't think about smashing her head into a wall.

That's when I felt another presence and I snapped out of my thoughts. "Hello, (name)-chan! I missed not being able to talk to you!" Douma said in a voice coated with the sickening fake sweetness he puts on.

"Oh hello douma-san!" Her face lit up at seeing him as she patted the spot next to her.

*should be me...* NO!! SHUT UP!

He sat next to her scooting closer to her, he was almost on top of her it seemed and that's when I felt it.

Anger.

But why? I hate her, why do I feel this, if anything I should be happy cause now she isn't talking to me but I'm not. I want him to disappear and go away. He shouldn't even be near her.

Almost like he knew he was making me angry he put his arm around her and pulled her close. I got up and just walked away. I didn't wanna feel any of that, I didn't understand why I was in the first place. Nothing he was doing felt right but I hate her.

I hate her more than yoriichi.

I continued to walk around the infinity castle trying to figure out why I was feeling such an emotion when he was near her. But nothing I couldn't think straight.

"Kokushibo-dono~." Great the bastard followed me. "What do you need?" I asked him obviously showing signs I was annoyed with him. "I just wanted to make sure you were ok, you just got up and left." He said smirking.

"Nakime, teleport me to my home."

I was in the safety of my home, away from him, and away from her. "Maybe some meditation will help me calm my nerves and figure out why I was acting in such a way." I walked outside where the mist ran thick and no human dare go, the silence was overpowering, and the trees blew in the wind.

"What a lovely night." I sat in a patch of grass, and gazed at the moon before closing my eyes and taking in deep breaths.

My mind couldn't stop thinking about her.

Her smile, her eyes, her voice, and her lips.

I shouldn't be thinking of her in such a way, but something keeps pulling me closer to these thoughts.

When she was younger I never had these thoughts I hated her, wished she would die. But when she turned 18.. everything changed. I started getting weird thoughts, unwanted ones.

It was almost like it was her blood demon art.

Hallucinations? Mind control? Just messing with ones brain in general? I don't know and perhaps I never will.

But there isn't a day she isn't on my mind, and there isn't a day I'm not begging for her death. I need to figure all this out, I need to find out why I get such thoughts, maybe muzans knows but he doesn't have time for such a foolish question.

#kokushibo x reader #kny x you #kokushibo #upper moons x reader

[jeankluv]

Snow on the beach || Trafalgar Law x fem!reader

Words: 3.2k

Warnings: fluff, doflamingo, angst but light and fluff

Note: thank you to everyone who is starting to read this story and the rest of my one shots, I truly appreciate your sweet comments. By the way if anyone wants me to tag them when I post this story please let me know and I will start tagging you. Now enjoy this chapter.

Previous chapter || Materialist || Next chapter

Chapter VI: You are my safe place

Law huffed at his office table. He had arrived earlier than his schedule, but all in order to avoid you. It wasn't that he didn't want to see you, he really wanted to see you and share moments with you, even if they were those in the car where you were singing a Taylor Swift song at the top of your lungs. But since last week when he had to go out of town to see the person he hated most in the world and meet him, he knew that having you around wasn't safe for you. He knew that you were stubborn and that you probably wouldn't give up so easily and would return home sooner or later, so leaving the house before you had been the best option he had seen to avoid talking to you again.

He had an idea of ​​who the person had been who had warned him, not for nothing did he try to get information from you the only time you met. Law leaned back in his seat and rubbed his temple. Years ago he and Corazon had distanced themselves from the family, they had gone to a quiet town, away from everything, away from him. But once again Doflamingo, he had to annoy them.

When Law talked to him on the phone, he actually considered telling Corazon the truth, telling him that his brother had called and that he was up to no good. But instead Law decided to tell him that Penguin and Shachi had been in an accident and he was going to see them for a week.

So yes, he went to meet Doflamingo to see what he wanted. The meeting was really short and unpleasant for Law but the worst thing was knowing that Doflamingo knew about you and that you lived next door. His skin crawled when your name came out of Doflamingo's lips, at that moment he felt like beating him up right there. Doflamingo began to talk about how they both seemed very happy in that town, that Law was paid well and how Corazon seemed very happy as a police officer, all this with the most cynical smile on his face. It was when Doflamingo finally told him what he wanted, money, as always. He said that if he didn’t get the amount he was asking him he would take action on the matter. Law agreed to give him, he wanted to keep both of you saved. But he knew he should be cautious since Monet knew who you were and she was on constant communication with him. He needed to find a way to fire her.

He sighed heavily and hit the table, couldn't he just leave them alone for once? Two knocks were heard on the door, Law wrinkled his eyebrows, it was still early for any patient to arrive for consultation.

“C’mon in.” He said sitting properly and putting on glasses. “What are you doing here?” He said once he saw who was the one knocking.

“Law…” You said swallowing. “I came here because…”

“I told you already that I didn’t want to see you again, didn’t I?” Law said and turned to look at his computer.

“You actually said you weren’t going to take me from the restaurant to my house, nothing about not seeing each other.” You said sitting on the chair.

“Y/n I’m not joking here, leave.”

You shook your head. “No.” He gave you a withering look and you just smiled at him. “Actually… I feel a bit sick. You’re a doctor so… please doctor could you check me?”

“Y/n… you know I can tell when you lie right?”

“Ah!” You cried out, you ain’t leaving that room until you were able to talk properly with Law. “Doctor please.” You pouted.

He sighed. “Where does it hurt?”

You smiled. “Here.” You pointed to your left knee.

He stood up and kneel in front of you. “Can you put your pants up so I can check your knee better?” He said while looking at you out of the corner of his eye.

“I…”

Shit y/n. You couldn’t really put them up, they were too tight, but when I asked you where it hurt, you only thought of saying the knee because it was true that it had been hurting for a few weeks.

“I don’t think I can do that.” You told him.

“Well then take them off.” Your whole face turned red in that instant.

“Wait… what?”

“Is for the examination y/n.”

“Of course, sure, yeah, hahaha” You laughed nervously.

“Listen, if you don’t feel comfortable, I can get something for you to cover up.” He said standing back up.

“Yeah… that would be okay.”

He nodded and left the room, leaving you there waiting. After your talk with Nami the day before, you had decided that you were going to get an explanation for Law's behavior. And you knew Law was doing his best to ignore you and not see you. You took off your jacket, waited there looking around at his office. You noticed a picture of him with Bepo on the wall, you smiled noticing how Bepo was still a puppy in that picture.

“Law you back?” You said turning around when you heard the door opening. But it was not Law who was in the door, it was the nurse from the other day, the one with the green hair. “Oh hello.”

“Where is Dr. Trafalgar?” She spoke.

“He went to…”

“Honestly I don’t care.” She replied. “I’m here to talk with you.” She sat next to you. “You should stay away from him, you know? Or the boss will have a good reason to make Law his little puppet again. And you probably don’t want that, right?”

“Excuse me… I don’t know what you are talking about…”

“It’s okay you will probably meet him if you keep yourself around him. This is from one girl to another, stay away from him.” You looked away, she was scaring you. Who the fuck was the boss and what did she mean with Law being a puppet?

She left without saying anything else. You were left there without knowing what to say or what to do. You don’t know how much time passed or when the door was once again open but when you came back, Law was in front of you, looking at you with an intense and worried look.

“You okay?” He said. “You are pale…” He said and touched your face. You knew he was probably checking your temperature but that didn’t stop you from turning red and moving your face away from his hand.

“Actually… I think I will leave.” You said standing and turning around to grab your things. “I have to go to work or else Zeff will get mad.” You tried to joke.

“Y/n, something happened right?” He said standing in front of you. “Did someone come here?”

“No.” You said, maybe a little too fast.

He examined your face, he knew you were lying and you knew he knew. “I already told you, you can lie but I will know.”

You looked down trying to avoid his gaze and thinking how to ask the question that was on the tip of your tongue. “Law…” You paused for a moment. “Are you… in danger?” You finally said.

You couldn’t see his face but you saw how his hands closed when you asked that question.

“Don’t worry about me… okay?”

You frowned and looked at him. “How could I not? You can not pretend like I don’t care about you, like I can ignore that someone is threatening you.”

“I have been dealing with this shit all my life, you don’t have to worry but I want you to stay away from me.”

“I can’t do that…”

“Y/n…”

“No Law, you can not ask me that. I want to help you.” You swallowed. “Corazon could help you, he is a police officer, I’m pretty sure he can…”

“Don’t… please y/n stay away from this, from me.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re so fucking stubborn aren’t you?”

“You know I am. And I’m not going to let you deal with this on your own.”

“I told you I have been dealing with…”

“Doesn’t mean you have to keep dealing with it alone.” You cut him off, never once leaving his gaze.

He huffed and leaned against the wall behind him, his eyes closed. He massaged his temple, you really were stubborn and seemed to not care about anything he told you, you were willing to continue with him.

“Why y/n? Why do you want to risk yourself for me?” He said looking at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Because…” You thought of the reason, deep inside of you, you knew why you were doing that, but would you be able to put it out? “I… I care about you and you make me feel like I’m myself again whenever I’m with you, it's like I don’t have to pretend to be someone else when I’m by your side. You are… you are my safe space.” You let everything out, in a rush but it was out. “And I don’t want to lose that.” You added looking at him.

You watched him breathe heavily, but without saying any words. His mouth was slightly open and his eyes moved around looking at your entire face. He opened and closed his mouth repeatedly, trying to say something but saying nothing. You didn't think that your confession would leave him speechless and a part of you was regretting having said it. Law swallowed hard, you could see how his Adam's apple moved.

“Y/n…”

“Oi Trafalgar.” The door opened completely, revealing a blonde man with glasses and dressed just like Law. “Oh! I’m interrupting something?” He looked at you both.

“Marco…” Law moved to place him near the man, whose name now you knew it was Marco. “Nothing to worry about, my patient was already going home.”

You nodded. “Yeah, I’m leaving.” You said and walked to the door. “Thank you for looking at my knee doctor. I will take care of it.” You lied and turned around saying goodbye to both of them.

You quickly left the place, out of the corner of your eye you could see the same girl who had come in to tell you that about Law. You didn't want to stop being with Law, you wanted to continue sharing your trips in the forest, bother him with jokes, make him let you sing at the top of your lungs, see the stars with him again. And yes, with him you felt like you were back to being that girl that you thought had disappeared a long time ago. With the rest of the band you also felt good but with Law it was different. As you felt the cold air hit your face, you blew on your hands to warm up. You really wanted to be able to support Law, in some way. But like that girl, Zoro had also told you to be careful with Law, with the people around him. Was that “boss” so dangerous? So much so that you had to get away from him and Law couldn't do anything about it?

On the other hand, Law was reading the report that Marco had brought him. He was really trying to concentrate but he couldn't stop thinking about you, your words and the strange feeling you had caused in him.

“Earth calling to Law, come back to us please.” He heard Marco’s voice.

“Eh… I think it’s…”

“I think you’re somewhere else.” Marco smiled. “That girl, is the new girl that came here some weeks ago right?”

“Yeah, she is.”

Marco smirked. “You seemed to have an interesting conversation going on.”

“What…? We were… we were discussing some medical stuff, that’s it.” Law shook his head, trying not to seem nervous.

Marco laughed. “Please Law, I have known you long enough to see that what you were having wasn’t a patient doctor conversation.”

“Shut up.” Law rolled his eyes.

“Whatever you say lover boy.” Marco stood up and walked to the door, leaving Law alone.

Law leaned back in his chair, thinking again about your words and what he could do to fix this shit. Because one thing that he was clear about was that he did not want you to end up in this mess in any way, for Donflamingo to get close to you. But what could he do? That man pulled the strings in the underworld, he had contacts with the police, who looked the other way when he wanted to do some of his shit.

When he and Corazon came to live here thirteen years ago, everything had been normal. Corazon got a good job as a police officer in the town and he started going to school and making friends. Everything was phenomenal, until Law left to study medicine, that was when he met Donflamingo again and from then on Donflamingo would occasionally ask him for money, with the condition of leaving Corazon alone and letting him live his life in a peaceful way.

Law took off his glasses and growled frustrated with the whole situation, no matter where he looked at it it was a maze with no exit. He got up from his chair and left his office. He didn't have any patients for another hour so he could go talk to Monet and tell her to leave you alone already. He saw her at the reception, with her glasses on, reading.

“Monet.” He called her.

She looked up and gave him a fake smile. “Good morning, Dr. Trafalgar. You came earlier today.”

“Cut that shit Monet.” Law cut her. “Listen, I know what you are up to and you better stay away from y/n. She has nothing to do with any of the shit you and the whole gang are in. So leave her alone and don’t approach her.”

Monet rolled his eyes. “My goodness Law, are you so taken with her? You already know that I only inform the boss about how you are, he cares about you.” Law snorted. “And it's good that the boss knows that you have a crush on a girl from the town, maybe one day he will even come and pay you a visit. “At the end of the day I miss her little brother.”

“The brother he tried to kill? Yeah don’t make me laugh, that man doesn’t care for anything other than money and power.”

“He deserved it, he betrayed the family.” Law narrowed his eyes. “It’s frustrating isn’t it? You can not do anything to get rid of me and besides Law, you will always be part of his family, no matter how much you try to get away or how much you try to protect Corazon. He will always find a way to find you.”

Law turned away from the counter in frustration and without saying anything returned to his office. And it was true, no matter how much he and Corazon tried to escape from that family, they would always find them and if they wanted to harm or harm them, Doflamingo would not hesitate to do so. During the rest of the day he dedicated himself to seeing patients, in the office and on the phone. When he realized it, the sun had already set and the streetlights were illuminating the streets. He stretched out in his chair and picked up everything to leave. He wanted to go home and rest his mind, even if it was just for a few hours.

He said goodbye to Marco and the nurses there and got into his car. He started the car and prepared to go home, but he didn't. For some reason, one that he knew very well, he parked in front of the restaurant. He sighed and looked out the window, there you were. You were wearing a high ponytail, but some of your locks fell in front of your face, and you had a smile on your face as you served the few clients you had that day. He grabbed his phone and connected it to the car, he opened Spotify, an app that for him was practically non-existent before you appeared in his life. He didn't listen to music so he didn't need a music app, right? And to no one's surprise, Taylor Swift was the artist who appeared to continue listening. He pressed play and smiled unconsciously when he remembered how excited she was to sing each lyric of the songs when he took you home.

An hour passed as he watched you say goodbye to Zeff and Sanji. Law got out of the car and leaned against it, waiting for you. He really was a hypocrite, after treating you terribly a few days ago, telling you on more than one occasion that you shouldn't be close, there he was.

When you walked down the small stairs at the entrance and looked up, you felt your heart skip a beat. He was standing there, looking at you and not looking away from you for a second. Waiting for you after work and looking at you with eyes that you couldn't describe or decipher. You approached him, shivering, was it because of the cold or because of what happened that morning? You had practically confessed to him and now you were seeing each other again after that.

“Law… What are you doing here?” You stood in front of him.

“I… I came for you.” He said and you nodded.

“About this morning…” You started to talk but he cut you out.

“Get in the car, you’re trembling.” He said and opened the door for you. You thanked him and got in the car. “You need to buy new clothes, warmer clothes.”

“Yeah… you told me that, remember?” He nodded and started driving back home. “Law about what I said this morning…”

“Once we arrive, let me check your knee.” He once again cut you off, was he evading the topic?

“Are you evading the conversation we had this morning?”

He shook his head. “I’m not, but… I told you, it’s complicated and… I don’t want to put you through something you don’t deserve.”

“I understand… but I want you to know that you have me.” He nodded and you saw the small smile on his face. “And about you being my safe place, listen, you can igno…”

“You also make me want to be myself when I’m with you y/n.” A small oh escaped your lips and you could feel your cheeks redden. “You’re cute peachie.” He whispered.

“Shut up Law.” You turned around, covering yourself. This was embarrassing.

“Oh…” You heard Law say.

“What?” You looked at him.

“It seems like it’s starting to snow.”

You looked ahead and could see how small snowflakes fell on the car window. You smiled. “It really is.” You whispered.

Law smiled when he realized how dazzling your eyes were just seeing the small snowflakes on the window. He was so hooked for you and there was no going back.

Tag list: @phsycochan {comment below if you want to be added to the tag list}

#law x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law x y/n #one piece x reader #law x you #trafalgar law x you #trafalgar law x oc #trafalgar law fanfiction

[iamstartraveller776]

Feel free to ignore, but you mentioned that the fandom landscape has changed drastically from twenty years ago, and I’m curious what that means for you. I’ve seen lots of posts on the topic, but am interested in your experience if you want to share.

I absolutely can share!

Twenty years ago, I found fandom through bulletin boards or message boards (depending on what you called them). Trekbbs was my first one, and it's still standing. High speed internet was relatively new, and it was easy to keep up with "threads." Whenever you logged in, it would take you to where you left off with any given thread so you could catch up. (Discord does this...kinda, but Discord moves at warp speed where BBS's moved at impulse power.) It was easier to stay connected, to get to know people. Also, the boards were (and are) heavily moderated. Trolls were banned, and folks who got too heated under the collar were usually temporarily banned until tempers cooled. So it was generally a safe environment.

Oh, and I forgot to mention that the vast majority of the boards were grown-up only. That's not to say that minors didn't sneak through, but they were on their best behavior lest they get found out and kicked off the board.

And from the boards, we learned where to find fanfic. Back then, even though FFN existed, fic was primarily archived on private sites. There were no such thing as likes and kudos back then. It was fandom etiquette (at least for my corner of the Trek fandom) to leave a comment/review if you read a fic (and be nice about it!). It was the era of Kink Tomato (your kink is not my kink and that's okay) and don't like don't read and simply fun. We had challenges, did round robins—where someone would write a chapter of a fic, then another author would write the next, and so forth.

Even when I made the switch to posting more on FFN, it was pretty normal to send a message to someone to thank them for favorite-ing your story even if they didn't comment. And often they would message back, telling you what they enjoyed. I have some friendships born from this! It was normal. Writers weren't called "needy" and "self-absorbed" for hoping for more interaction with their readers. We were all in this together.

I also did yahoo groups for a time, and had a fantastic time with my friends in an email chain.

LiveJournal was kind of the peak of fandom, IMO. I think it was the first "public" website, rather than something privately owned, where we could build communities (private or public) as well as have our own pages (private or public). Some of the best fandom events happened on that site. But LiveJournal ended up imploding. (Cyber attacks then the new owners started wiping out entire communities without warning for violating the new terms of service. It was horrible.)

So we all moved to Tumblr. (And we were slowly moving to AO3. Some also moved to the site formerly called Twitter.)

Tumblr was pretty awesome back then. Because fandom people took the same community with them when they came. We didn't have replies back then, but dagnabit we screenshot tags or reblogged comments and posted them with replies. It was easier to follow tags and even some fandoms created blogs that were archives for fics. (Myself included.) The downside was, and continues to be, lack of moderation. Not that I think fandom should be gatekept, but it isn't as easy-going when you do have to worry about putting up with trolls as a rule rather than the exception.

Alas, life happened and I had to step away for a few years. When I came back...it's so much quieter. Significantly less interaction. Less comments on fics. There's just...less connection in general. People tend to flit in and out of fandom more often. And on top of that, there is the odd movement that fanworks shouldn't contain anything that would make a reader/viewer uncomfortable or is unrelatable to the general masses. As a fanworks creator, there have been times I felt more like a monkey dancing for a demanding audience rather than a squee-ing fan sharing things with fellow sqee-ing fans. I seriously questioned for a long time whether I would bother anymore.

(This also doesn't mention how streaming and binge-watching series rather than weekly releases have affected fandom. It's different when you get one episode a week for an entire season of 20-24 episodes than when a streamer releases the entire 8-10 episode series at once.)

A part of this is me, too. I don't have nearly as much time to invest in fandom as I used to. I can't be too critical of the changes in fandom, but it is different.

And so I hang onto a few of the friends I've found (like you!) and continue to find here and there. I write whatever I want and delete rude comments. I always reply to the others. And I keep plugging on!

Thank you for asking! And thank you for being part of what I love about being on Tumblr even after all these changes! (Sorry I got a bit verbose!)

#star replies #about me #fandom #curator on ao3 #fandom old

[cc-genshin]

Traveling with Wriothesley: Day 6

"Shall we set up camp here for the night?" The Traveler suggests, settling in at a familiar spot by the riverbank.

Wriothesley nods in agreement. "Sure," He walks up behind his companion, surveying their surroundings. "It looks like someone used to stay here."

"Yes, a friend named Julien used to set up camp here. He's from Fontaine too." The Traveler explained, sharing another story with Wriothesley. "Look, he left behind a painting."

"Wow, that looks great. Must be a very skilled painter." Wriothesley praises the painting, admiring the colors and the brush strokes.

The Traveler smiles, feeling proud of their own friend. "I'm so glad he moved forward, along with Pepper, his dog."

"Ohh, traveling with their dog, I see." Wriothesley listens on, enjoying every story the Traveler shares with him. "In a sense, you're traveling with a dog too, see?" He pulls up a part of his hair, making his "dog-like" ears more noticeable.

The Traveler couldn't help but laugh, adoring the Duke's actions.

The next morning...

"Morning," Wriothesley greeted the Traveler. He had just finished taking a dip by the riverbank and was in the middle of putting his shirt on.

"Good morn-" The Traveler's yawn was interrupted the moment they noticed Wriothesley's bare tummy. "Oh, did you just wash yourself?" They asked while looking away.

Wriothesley notices the flustered look on their face and smirks. "Yeah. You should too, I'll keep watch." He suggests as he finishes putting his clothes back on.

"Ehm, thanks. Did you sleep though?" The Traveler asks before taking their turn to wash themselves up.

Wriothesley nods, "Yes, don't worry." He smiles, reassuring their companion.

After a while, they both had their breakfast and sat down together for a moment.

"Have you ever seen a ruin guard up close?" The Traveler asked as an idea popped inside their head.

"Not really," Wriothesley shook his head. "Are they any different from our mekas in Fontaine?" He shrugged, asking out of curiosity.

"Well, it's best if you find out yourself." The Traveler gets up, leading the way for Wriothesley.

Eventually, they found their way inside a cave. It was one of the paths the Traveler took during their time with Sorush.

"Woah, didn't expect the inside of a ruin guard to be like this." Wriothesley looked around in amazement.

"Yeah, it's all full of sand now though. Nothing but a mess." The Traveler replies. "There's another giant ruin guard in the desert... I'll show you that one next."

"Hahaha, sure. Lead the way, boss." Wriothesley chuckles, enjoying the Traveler's enthusiasm.

As they walked deeper into the cave...

"Damn, what is that huge gate up there?" Wriothesley asked as they reached an opening, revealing an ominous-looking passage.

"They say that gate takes you to Khaenriah. It's where Dain, I mean Dainsleif, escaped through when the Abyss attacked them." The Traveler explains the story to Wriothesley.

"Khaenriah... Dainsleif... Abyss? That's a lot to take in." Wriothesley glances at his companion, waiting for them to elaborate.

"Yeah, sorry," The Traveler smiled apologetically. "First of all, Dain was my twin's companion. Somehow, they traveled this world together... long before the incident with Khaenriah."

"I see. So then, why did the Abyss attack them?" Wriothesley asked, curious about the outcome.

"Well... let's just say Dain isn't on good terms with them." The Traveler, knowing that the full story is hard to explain, decides to shorten it up for Wriothesley.

Wriothesley nods as he listens. "You and your twin must've gone through a lot. I can't wait to meet them someday." He spoke with a deep voice, showing his sincerity.

"I'm excited to introduce you to my twin as well," The Traveler smiles, finding hope in the Duke's words.

CHAPTER LIST || Tap here to view the list of chapters & FAQ ||

#traveling with wriothesley #wriolumi #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x y/n #wriothesley x you #genshin impact #traveling with wrio #genshin #genshinimpact #fontaine #wriothesley genshin

[boygiwrites]

Harley D. Dixon 5

An amazing edit inspired by this story! (Cred to Cora_Line99) Harley D. Dixon's Pinterest Board! Harley D. Dixon's Playlist!

📖Chapter List.

Author's Note. This is our CDC chapter, so TW for mention of suicide in this one. It's a little graphic.

And it might be better to go in blind, but if you'd like the second TW, please check the first tag on this post.

Other than that, please enjoy reading!

Glenn exhales, "Would you look at that?"

The sun is rising.

Last night I was a dying dog and today I am Harley Dixon.

Me, Dad and Glenn are on the roof of the parked RV, watching the sky give birth to the sun, knowing that I got hundreds more sunrises waiting for me; that the worst is over, like Rick said. The morning is as fresh as peeled summer fruit, and it's all ours. I'm reminded of special breakfasts on our old porch, where my Uncle Merle and my Dad would be scooping burnt scrambled eggs into their mouths, and I'd be in Dad's lap, sipping on a box of orange juice. We had them whenever I won an award at school. I feel like I've won every award in the world.

Glenn is the one sitting next to us, now, in this new version of day-break. He fills the outline of where a ghost of a brother and an Uncle used to be. We're sharing a secret bag of old freeze-dried cherries, while everyone else sleeps. They're a small luxury, like the sun. We can make happiness out of anything.

It all feels right.

"One hundred percent mold free, this time. I swear," Glenn says, ripping the bag open and pouring me the first cherries.

"They better be," Dad jokes. "First time was free."

"Next time, you'll beat my ass?" Glenn guesses.

He looks like he's realizing his legacy is always gonna be the guy who can't make jerky.

"Damn straight."

We knock our plastic bowls together, smiling.

"To Harley."

"To Harley."

"To me!"

"What a mess this whole thing was." Glenn shakes his head, chewing. "I know I already said it, but... I'm really sorry."

"Ain't your fault you can't cook." I giggle.

"Gee, thanks." He laughs. "I guess I deserve that."

"Just learn to salt the damn meat, China." Dad says. "Then we can talk."

"Okay, okay, okay." Glenn puts his hands up, but he's still grinning. "I suck at cooking. I get it. Are Dixons always this mean?"

Me and my Daddy answer, yes, at the same time.

"Good to know." Mumbles Glenn.

"The night I got scratched," I muse, my fingers painted with crayon-red cherry juice. "You was the first person after my Dad to reach the tent."

I remember people saying that Glenn could outrun a cheetah if there were enough supplies behind the finish line. The thought makes me laugh again. When you ain't big, you gotta find other ways to elbow your way through danger. Sometimes a good brain and better legs are all you need. Sometimes people like me and Glenn get to win, too.

"I guess so." Glenn's smiling shyly. "But only because Rick was too busy reloading. And Shane was up the back. And, well, I guess— When we first got back to camp, people were saying that you were gone. That you were missing, or dead, or— We didn't know. Your Dad, he just took off into the woods. Just, vroom, y'know? Like, gone. I thought if I was gonna be like anyone, it should be him. So, I went running, too."

Dad leans over and grips Glenn's shoulder; shakes it. A gesture that says, Man to man, I respect you. Maybe even, Brother to brother.

It takes a lot to earn my Dad's respect, if you ain't his blood.

"You all looked like you was boutta faint." I snicker, 'cause it's funny now.

"W-we all thought it was too late." Glenn tries to laugh. It's been hard, I guess, bottling up that night until now. "When we first saw the tent."

I see flashes of wet eyes, and teeth, and spiders.

"I did too," I confess.

My Dad turns me around in his lap, then, and bounces his knee a little. "But I woulda never let that happen, chicken, y'hear? And I ain't never gonna let that happen. I'd have to be dead, 'fore a walker laid his hands on you." He frowns, looking me dead in the eye.

"I hear." I nod. "It was just really scary."

"C'mere, babe."

He pulls me down to his chest — his heart — and I curl up there, where I know nothin' will ever get me.

"For the record, I was about to faint." Glenn mutters.

I throw a cherry at him and he dodges it, grinning.

"I knew it!"

We all sit like this for a long while, with the sun and the rustling wheat as our friends, snacking on our sour fruit. Then they start talking again, a notch deeper, a notch outta my league. Adult to adult. I realize they must think I'm asleep — It is the ass-crack of dawn, after all — so I don't interrupt.

"I didn't mean it like that, you know." Glenn tells my Dad. "You can protect your own. I get that."

"Don't tell me what I already know, kid."

"I just..." Glenn starts, but then there's nothing.

In this long moment, I think Glenn is going to leave down the ladder, 'cause it's what anyone else would do.

People like me and my Dad — People who hoard supermarket coupons, and talk real nasty, and get called hillbillies — don't mix well with people like Glenn. People pretend there isn't, but there's an invisible cut-off on who deserves what in life, and it ends right after people who only gotta work one job. Glenn's smart, and he prolly ain't never had to go hungry to pay his water bills, not once in his life. He prolly ain't never been to jail, or snapped a squirrel's neck, or re-used the same bottle of hand soap forty times over. He's like the rest of 'em. Rick and Lori. Shane. The kids in my old classes. Their parents on parent-night. We can work well together but anything else is askin' too much.

But we're family now, right? I think Glenn might leave, but—

"Well, for what it's worth, I couldn't do it." Is all Glenn says.

He doesn't leave. In fact, I hear him settling further into his chair. It's what Uncle Merle would have done.

My Dad pauses. "Do what?"

"Look over my shoulder all the time. Worry about someone else every time I hear a gunshot. Walk around knowing I have that much to lose." Glenn sounds lost in thought, but then he surfaces. He ends his list with a simple, "Be a parent."

My Dad sighs, debating whether or not to go along with this.

"That ain't all there is to it." He eventually says.

"No?"

"Nah. It ain't some curse." Dad says. "I hear a gunshot? Sure, first thing I'm thinkin' 'bout is Harley. But that's the way it's meant to be."

"I just don't think I'd be able to handle it." I imagine Glenn gazing out at the sky. "These past few days have been stressful enough."

"Yeah, well that's why I got a kid 'n you don't." Dad's being a bit of a smart-ass. Then, he answers seriously. "You got a kid? You gotta be ready to die for 'em. But it ain't just sittin' around, waitin' to do it. It's the opposite. Every day I wake up, and I do it for her. I do everythin' I do for her. After that baby's born, who you were, what you liked doin', any plans you had — That's over. Suddenly, yer life ain't the most important thing you got, no more."

I've never heard my Dad talk like this. I wish our lives were worth the same, but I guess it don't work that way.

"And who were you?" Glenn asks, knocking back a cherry. "Before Harley?"

"A nobody. Drunk bastard with drunk-bastard friends." Dad scoffs.

"Well... That's good, then?" Glenn's guessing. "Sounds like she changed you for the better, man."

I can't imagine my Dad being anybody other than my Dad. The day I came into the world, so did he. There's nothin' before that.

"It's hard." Dad admits, prolly for the first time ever, to Glenn. "I love 'er, but it's hard as shit. Some days I wanna pull my damn hair out."

"You must have been going crazy during... everything."

"Oh, you think?" Dad jokes. "You ain't seen me fuck up that walkie?"

Glenn bursts out laughing. "It hit the RV when you threw it out the window. Scared the shit out of Dale."

I have to try really hard not to laugh. I'm meant to be pretend-asleep!

"You got any nieces, or anythin'?" Dad asks.

"No." Glenn answers. "My sisters were either too interested in their careers to have kids, or... Too young."

Glenn's sisters aren't here. Blood does everything it can to stay together. Dad taught me that. That means his sisters are both young and dead.

"That's gotta be tough, man." Dad sighs.

"No, it's alright. Sometimes I can pretend they're out there, together. Happy." He pauses. "What about you? Nieces? Nephews?"

Dad actually laughs a little. "Fuck no. Not from my side, at least. Guy like my brother ain't meant to spread his seed around. Ain't right."

Glenn starts laughing, too. "I guess not."

"Nah, Harley's my only girl." My Dad says. I feel him start playing with the end of my ponytail.

"You know, when you first showed up in camp, I thought she was Merle's." Glenn says, then quickly, "No offence."

"No shit?" Dad scoffs.

"No shit. I thought you looked too young to have a kid."

An unspoken joke makes them both laugh all over again.

"Yeah, well, I was real busy in my teen years."

I got no idea what that means, but it must be funny. Their conversation tapers from chuckling into a warm silence, and then it's just us and the sun again. It clips over a candy-colored cloud, and I can hear car doors opening and shutting, and loud yawns from down below. We're gonna be on the road again soon. I might not need a cure anymore, but we still need water, food, and walls, and the CDC's got it all. I hear someone shouting, alright, people, time to start heading out, and then a whole bunch of shuffling. The day isn't just ours, anymore.

My Dad stretches, groaning, and I pretend to be woken up by it.

He pinches my cheek. "Look who's here."

"Hey, Harley." Glenn smiles, packing up. "You enjoy the cherries?"

"Uh-huh," I smile back. "Thank you."

"No problem." He says. "There's actually some left over, if you want it."

He holds out the bag while I dig my hand into it.

I think it's funny how me, the man who made me, and the man who almost killed me are all friends, now. I learnt in science class that the more pressure you put on a rock, the more compact the molecules get. I think we're the molecules. It's bittersweet.

"Not too many." Dad warns. "You're still sick, remember? Don't want you messin' up my truck again."

"I remember," I promise, shoving a handful of cherries into my mouth. I also remember him sayin' he don't give a damn 'bout the truck.

Someone shouts out the radio channel again.

"Time to see this thing through, then." Rallies Glenn, but he looks nervous.

We say goodbye to the sunrise.

"Dad, is that—?"

"That's the CDC, alright."

We reach it by early morning. It's a monster of a building. It's like a big, white buoy in the middle of the ocean, saying, Come here, I'll keep you afloat. We ease to a stop and then we just look at it, 'cause it's all we can do. The CDC, right before our eyes. It's really there.

"It's bigger than I thought." I think aloud.

Dad just grunts, wary. "Stay close to me."

Our new walkie chimes, and Rick speaks to everyone when he says, "This is it, people. Leave your things. We're gonna walk up."

Why does the air feel so cold?

My Dad pulls both me and his crossbow out the truck, and then the whole group — one tired, beaten, hopeful force — are slowly making our way to the building. We walk through a silent field. I wish it could speak to us; tell us what it's been through.

We pass torn bags of sand and littered bullet shells. I think there's something here that we're not seeing, not yet, like a sleeping beast at the back of a cave, and when we find it, we're gonna be sorry we ever looked. We weave through big, black piles of clothes. The clothes are full, I realize. Full of hands, and legs; all white, all dead. They're bodies. They still have their human faces; they're still them, just dead, and they're studded with the bullets that the shells came from. The story tells itself, on behalf of the ghosts. They give their blood back to mother nature, dripping into the grass. I gasp. From head to toe, I go cold. My Dad shields my face, but I've already seen 'em. They're already nightmares.

Rick leads us. He leads us past trucks and barriers and blockades. Every sign the universe gives him to turn back, he ploughs through, chin up.

Maybe he's brave. Maybe he's stupid. Maybe he was designed to be both. Maybe we're walking to our deaths.

Nobody speaks. If they do, the bodies might wake up, and the graveyard we're intruding on will realize it doesn't want us here.

A crow squawks from its post on a dead soldier's helmet. If I spoke bird, I'd hear, Turn back.

We have to do this. It's what everyone's thinking, as they manage one foot in front of the other. Just one more step, and after that, just one more step. I take in the group, 'cause they ain't dead, and it's a little less awful to look at.

Morales, rifle up. Eliza, Louis and Sophia, three baby ducklings under their Mommas' shaking wings. Dale and Shane, polar opposites but in this moment, exactly the same; with their steely gaze and steady hands. Jacqui and Andrea, holding hands; two girls in women's bodies, walking through a world that wants to eat them. I catch Carl's eye. He catches mine, over the violence spread out before us. I watch him send me a thumbs up, which does nothing but turn me colder — colder than ice, colder than I've ever been — before my view is blocked for a second time, by Glenn. I'm sandwiched in; hidden, protected. I squeeze my eyes shut and hope I'll get to open them again. My Dad leads me by the shirt over the grass. I trust him.

My shoes hit something tougher, louder — Cement. Rock? Our footsteps echo, now. Are we really in a cave?

It goes double-dark, through my eyelids. Please don't leave us, I beg the sun nicely, We need you.

I squeeze my Dad's hand. He squeezes back.

Then I hear a rumble, like thunder, and I peek out from behind my Dad. It's Rick, banging on roller shutters. We all clench closer together, a fist ready to fight. Nobody does it on purpose, but me and all the other kids are pushed toward the middle. Rumble, rumble, rumble. Rick goes from one door to another to another, until he's shook down the entire row.

Guns are raised. We step back, together.

It's like knockin' on doors on Halloween. We don't know what creature's gonna answer. Maybe nobody.

"Anybody home?" Glenn mutters.

We stretch our silence for as long as we can stand it. There is no answer.

Newly determined, or maybe offended, or scared, or maybe all three, Rick beats down all the doors again like he hates 'em.

"Hey!" He calls out. "Whoever's in there, open up!"

"Nobody's here, man!" T-Dog shakes his head, but he ain't got no proof.

"Then tell me why you think all the damn shutters are down?" Rick snarls, and it's like we're in the parking lot again, and I'm scared.

And I should be.

"Walkers incoming!" Shane shouts.

Suddenly, my Dad and Glenn are whirling the other way, facing our new enemy. I grab onto the back of Dad's belt, and when I peer out between their elbows, I see one, two, six, twelve dead bodies lumbering to their feet, all dressed in military green, and dented helmets, and layers and layers of crusty black blood and loose skin. The other kids start to cry, but not me. I can't cry, 'cause I can't breathe. I hear a slicing fwip, and then one of the dead soldiers drop to the ground like the only thing holding him up were strings. An arrow marks his second deathbed.

"We can't fuckin' stay here, Rick!" My Dad's yelling. "You led us into a death-trap!"

I'm grabbing onto the back of Glenn's shirt, now, 'cause my Dad's stomping off to confront Rick and Shane. I hide my nose in my knuckles. Death-trap, I'm panicking, Death-trap. A week ago, I'd be standing here alone, but I got Glenn now. I don't know how I know that, but I do. I got Glenn.

"Glenn, I'm scared." I whine to him, and there it is, I'm crying. I think of happier things, like cherries and the sun.

"I— I know." Glenn puffs, 'cause he's scared, too. "I know."

He lets me grab his hand. It's what Uncle Merle would have done.

"Death trap or not, we're here for a reason!" Dale's arguing. "Rick made a call! We all did!"

"You want us to phase through the fuckin' doors, old man?" Dad spits. "We're stuck out here! My daughter's stuck out here!"

"Running out of time here, guys!" Jacqui's worrying.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Are those gunshots, now? Bullets are last resorts. Last resorts are only for when you're gonna die. Are we gonna—?

"Are we gonna die, Glenn?"

"No." He hurries to answer, gripping me tighter. "N—No."

"We need to leave!" A woman — Carol? — cries.

"She's right." Lori. That's Lori. "This close to the city? It's too dangerous!"

Bang! Bang! Bang!

"Fort Benning." Shane looks like he's 'bout ready to bolt, bouncin' from foot to foot. A trapped animal. "We can do it. It's still an option, Rick."

"Is it?" Glenn's shouting. "It's a hundred twenty-five miles away!"

"No fuel? Two sick kids?" Morales is shakin' his head, no, no, no. "It's impossible!"

What do we do? No, no, no. We can't leave, but no, no, no, we can't stay, neither.

"What do you wanna do, then?" Shane argues back. "What you wanna do?"

"That's it! We're done here!"

My Dad shuts the whole thing down with one angry shout, locking his hand around my wrist. He tugs me away, and for a moment, the group is tugging itself along behind us, back to the street and the cars. We're a unit again — in the wind, goin' anywhere; scared, flimsy. We take one step, and then two, and we make it all the way back to the grass, before—

"Wait!"

It's Rick.

He ain't budged. Brave or stupid? Is he nuts?

"The camera." He tells us, breathless. "It moved."

All three.

"You imagined it." Dale decides, 'cause he'll say anything to get Rick to move. "How could it have moved?"

It's a lost cause — a last-ditch attempt.

The arguing re-ignites. I hide myself again, 'cause I'd rather be anywhere else.

Rick's shouting that he saw it, he saw the camera move, and his voice hits the concrete and closes in on us, just like the field. Fwip. Bang. Bang. Bang. Each burst of noise is a ticking hand on a dyin' clock. The bodies are picking themselves up faster than we're dropping 'em. Glenn's got a knife out, now, and Shane's pleading with Rick, who's gone nuts, Man, listen, the place is gone, it's gone, it's gone, it's gone. Rumble, rumble, rumble. Fwip. Bang. Crying; shrieking, from me, from the other kids, from Lori, and Jacqui, and the air as it's cut in half by bullet after bullet after bullet. Please, we have two sick kids out here, someone's begging.

"You're killing us!" Rick tells the camera. "You're killing us!"

My Dad fists the back of my shirt and he's pullin' me away, stronger than before. I think he's saying, Fuck it, we can make it on our own; leave the bastard. This must really be rock bottom. We were on our own for weeks. He must be thinking that we can do it again. I can see Glenn struggling to decide whether he should stay with the group or follow his feet, which are already trying to run after me and my Dad. I see Jacqui doin' it, too, and then Andrea, and then Carol.

A body topples over in our path, arrow up its nose. This is chaos.

Cherries and sunlight. Cherries and sunlight.

Then—

Behind us.

A gentle rumble, rumble.

We all whip around.

The doors — They're opening. They really are.

Even Rick looks like he can't believe it. We watch them open, mouths agape, like a bunch of idiots — A portal, to another world.

At first, we think there's a catch. Nothing comes without a catch. Do we go in?

But then there's another bang, and we're reminded that we're as good as dead if we stay out here any longer. We're on the move again, but this time, we're walking into the big, white mouth of the big, white monster, praying, Please don't be worse than it is out here, please don't make us regret this. We stay close together as the doors roll back down, sealing us in. We can breathe again, but only slightly. Would I rather take my chances with the dead soldiers, or with the unknown? I'm not sure. Now it's really happening, I don't think any of us are.

"Electricity." Jacqui whispers in cautious wonder. Electricity is like a myth.

Rick nods toward an archway. "Let's keep moving."

We trickle into the belly of the beast — Down a hallway, and into a lobby with the tallest damn ceiling I ever saw. Papers are thrown all over the floor and the computers at the reception desk are all upturned, but it's pin-drop silent. It's like being in a museum for an old extinction event.

"Hello?" Rick calls out, and if there's a scary creature in here, I sure hope it eats him first. "Who's in here? Who opened the doors?"

The silence answers.

"I did."

I jump outta my skin. Dad gets himself in front of me, but I peek around his waist. There's a man at the top of the stairs. He looks like he's been here for a long, long time. Like those lonely boys in Lord of the Flies, where they'd been on an island for so long that they started going a little crazy. He's wearing a regular t-shirt. I wonder where his lab coat is, if he's a scientist. This is a building for scientists.

"What did you mean by 'sick'?" The lonely-crazy-man calls down to us. "You said you had two sick kids. Is anybody infected?"

The whole group hardens at this question. They all glance back at me. I can see our journey in their eyes.

Rick's smiling, and this time, it looks right.

"You don't know the half of it." He turns back around, chin up, like always. "No. Nobody's infected. Thank God."

Dad puts a hand my shoulder.

The scientist doesn't share the same enthusiasm.

"I'm not sure He's around, anymore." He muses, vaguely sad. Then, "Why are you here? What do you want?"

I've never been good at words, but Rick is, 'cause he comes up with the perfect answer. One he knows we'd all agree on.

"A chance."

And maybe some water. After all we been through, that can't be too much to ask. We must look like a pathetic, begging mess, 'cause that's what we are. I know I am. My hair's made outta knots and grease, just like Lori and Andrea's. We're covered in beatings from the road, like bruises from Jim's fists and eyebags from sleepless nights. We left our quarry for this. We left our fish, and our tyre swing, and we left Jim. This can't be for nothing.

The man, who stands high above us, a judging eye, takes us in. "That's asking an awful lot, these days."

All Rick can say is, "I know," and pray it works.

I think of wet eyes, teeth, and spiders while we wait for his decision.

"You'll submit to a blood test." The scientist tells us. "That's the price of admission."

A breath leaves us all.

"We can—" Rick's nodding. "We can manage that."

That's it? A blood test?

I find myself grinning, and I tug on my Dad's hand. We look at each other. He's smiling, too, just a little. We all are. The scientist doesn't know it, but he's just saved our lives. We're tired and we're dirty and we've been through Hell these past couple days, but a blood test — We can manage that. We can manage anything.

"I left one door open. If you have stuff to bring in, do it now." He says, from his perch. "Once these doors shut, they don't open."

We tell him we understand.

This place is like a magical castle.

After we give up our blood, the scientist takes us on a tour. 

Jacqui was right. We got electricity. But apparently, we also got hot water.

If electricity's a myth, then hot water is a damn hoax. I can't wait to have a shower tonight. I used to hate showers, but that's just one of them things now that I can't believe I ever hated, like spinach. I been so hungry before that I'd dream about spinach. Glenn and Lori groan like they've bitten into a big, juicy steak when they hear 'bout the showers, and we all laugh. When I ask him, the scientist says that he isn't wearing his lab coat because he only wears it to make himself look cool. He says that now that we're here, he'll have to put it back on. It makes me giggle.

I run ahead with the other kids, and we all reach a long line of doors, where the scientist says we'll be staying.

The tour is complete!

We all pick rooms to stay in and then we unpack, like we're in a hotel, and it's exciting. None of us have been to a hotel in years.

"Hey, Harley!" Sophia pops her head out the next room over, holding a bar of soap. "Look! Soap!"

I hold out mine. "I got one, too!"

Behind Sophia, Carl pops his head out. "Me too!"

And behind him, like two little owls, Eliza and Louis appear. "Us, too!"

We dash back into our rooms. Me and my Dad's room got two double beds, and I ain't never had a double bed before, so I climb on it, and I jump up and down to test it out. It don't even squeak or nothin'. Dad watches me from where he's emptying one of our back packs.

As I try touch the ceiling, I tell him, "This place is awesome!"

"Harley, come down from there 'fore you crack yer head open." He orders, like a party-pooper.

I do what he says, 'cause I don't wanna ruin the day by getting spanked. "I'm gonna have a real-life shower."

"That's right." He shakes out the yellow shirt with the dinosaurs on it. He chucks it at my head, smirking. "Get ready, then."

I grab the brush that Sophia's letting me use first and a pair of purple pyjama pants from my Dad. I take myself into the bathroom. At first, the water's like straight lava on my skin, and I yelp. Dad asks if I'm alright, and then he comes in to fix the water for me. The lava settles back down, and I scrub and wash and sud myself up until I'm almost as red as a lobster. It's the best shower I've ever had. I was getting so sick of using baby wipes and river water to wash myself. When I step out of the real-life shower, the whole room is steamed up. I draw a smiley face into the mirror just 'cause I can, and then I brush out all my hair. I smell like strawberries. I dress in my cozy pyjamas and socks.

When I come out, my Dad re-does my buttons, 'cause apparently I did 'em all wrong. I stand between his knees while he re-orders 'em.

"He said there's a games room here." I smile.

"Maybe you can scope it out after dinner." Dad says. "You gotta be hungry by now, right?"

"Oh, I forgot 'bout dinner!" There's just too many wonders to keep track of in this place! "We gotta hurry!"

My Dad loops the last button.

"Come on, come on, come on!" I nag, pulling him off the bed and out the door.

"Damn." He chuckles. "People are gonna start thinkin' I ain't feedin' you."

"I bet there's gonna be steak!"

This is the best day ever.

We reach the CDC's little cafeteria, which is in total darkness to save energy, except for a spotlight above the biggest table. Makes it feel even more special. I hear clinking forks and plates, and I think these are the two happiest days I've ever had. Me and Dad take seats next to Carol and Sophia. As potato salad — Yes, potato salad. That's almost as good as soap — and greens and meat get passed around, I'm reminded of our fish fry. My Dad is here with me to enjoy it this time, and there are walls to protect us, instead of trees. We're clean. We're safe. We're alive.

"Just tell me when." Carol tells T-Dog as she pours him some wine, while everyone is getting settled in at the table.

Carol pours for a long time and T-Dog does not say when.

People start laughing.

T-Dog gives in and goes, "Okay, when, when, when."

"Thought I was gonna be there all night." Carol scoff-chuckles, sitting back down.

When I look around, I see one big family having dinner together, and I see people I'd almost forgotten about under all that dirt.

"Hey, after the past few days we've had, I think we deserve it." Rick's smiling, holding up his hands.

"I'll say." Lori snickers.

Dale suddenly stands, glass in hand. "How about we dedicate this meal to Harley?"

Rick puts down his napkin. "I think that's a perfect idea."

I giggle under all the attention as everyone rushes to agree, finding their glasses. I hide my face behind my Dad's arm. He peels himself away, smirking, and everyone's got something to say about my red face when I'm no longer hidden. I smack Carl when he tells me I look like a tomato, and everyone's doubled over with laughter, again. It's my favorite sound ever, I decide.

Before we can toast, my Dad butts in.

"Hang on. Old man, how's about that watch you carry around?" He asks. "It got a date on it?"

"I wish," Dale smiles, "But the battery died yesterday. Why? Is there something I'm missing?"

"I reckon it's almost July, right?" Dad looks around.

Is he gonna say what I think he's gonna say?

I start grinning.

Rick nods, "I reckon so. It's probably been about a month since everything went down."

"Harley was born in July. Twenty-second. Eight years ago. Ain't that right?" Dad ruffles my hair, and I giggle, 'cause I'm just so full of happiness that I feel like I'll never be anything else again. He raises his glass; wraps a hand around my shoulders. "Close enough, am I right?"

"Absolutely, that's close enough!" Lori shouts, clapping her hands; rushing for her glass. "My God, this is perfect!"

"We got ourselves a birthday dinner, here, people!" T-Dog whoops, raising his, too.

Rick lifts his glass above his head, and it's official. "To the birthday girl!"

"To the birthday girl!"

Clink, clink, clink.

More cheering. Two toasts in one day. I must be the luckiest girl in the whole, wide world. I bump my glass of water into Dad's glass on my right, and Sophia's on my left. After the scare with the scratches, this celebration means ten times more than a regular birthday would. There's no cake here, or number-candles, but I don't need any of that to make this moment special. I got Glenn singing an off-key Happy Birthday, and I got Jacqui giggling, God, shut that boy up, and I got Sophia hugging me, and I got another year and a whole lotta more days I get to live, with everyone at this table; with my Dad. And when Rick leans over the table, I even let him give me a high-five!

"Eight." Rick raises his eyebrows at me while he sits back down, pointing at me. "Almost double digits."

"You're almost my age!" Grins Carl.

"Good luck." Lori dramatically whispers to my Dad.

He gives me a look. "Listen to me, you ain't allowed to grow any more after this, okay?"

I can't help if I grow!

"Okay, Dad." I laugh. "I promise to be eight forever."

"Good girl." He says, gulping down more wine.

"Hold up." T-Dog sticks his palm out. "This is a birthday party. You know what that means, right? We need to hear at least one embarrassing story."

"Good idea." Jacqui gasps.

Dad makes a big show of scoffing. "Damn, which one you want? I got thousands."

What a traitor!

"I mean, we have all night, here." Shane shrugs, grinning like a little smart-ass. "I'm up for a story-time. How 'bout y'all?"

"Let's hear it," Morales gestures at my Dad.

"Alright." Dad sits back in his chair, crossing his arms. I try leaning over to cover his mouth, but he bats me away, and everyone is already laughing and the story ain't even started yet. "How 'bout— Okay. Okay. Damn, this is a good one. 'Bout when she was five, we bought Harley this skateboard—" Everybody's going, Oh God, 'cause they see where this is going. "Uh-huh. We took 'er down to the skatepark near our house, and there was a bunch of other lil' kids there — 'bout her age — and I'on know how she did it, but these kids were all convinced she was this master skater who was gonna show 'em how it's done. She was coachin' 'em, I think. Showin' off her new board. End of the day, she finally goes to show 'em a trick — 'Member, first day at this damn park — and everyone's watching and—" He claps his hands, smack. "Falls flat on 'er fuckin' face, in front of all of 'em."

Ugh, why'd he have to go and tell that story?

Rick covers his mouth 'cause he's trying not to laugh, 'cause I guess he values whatever dignity I got left but Shane, he's clappin' and trying not to spit his food out, 'cause he's actually a big smart-ass. I'm laughing behind my hands, like Sophia. Glenn's resting his forehead on the table, and he's shakin', so I guess he's laughing, too. When he sits upright, he's crying, and Jacqui's gotta beat his back 'cause he's choking a little bit.

"I'm alri—" He coughs. Then he keeps laughin', which makes it worse. "I'm alright."

"Hey, I ain't even fall that bad!" I defend myself.

He chugs Jacqui's water to save himself.

"Wait—" Lori's chuckling. "Five years old?"

"Yep," Dad goes back to eating. He's satisfied with the damage he's done.

"Pretty brave for that age." Lori tells me, putting on an I'm impressed face.

"Damn, that's pretty bad." T-Dog's shaking his head. "Sorry, girl, but I'm glad I asked, 'cause shit!"

"Leave the poor girl alone." Carol giggles, quietly.

Shane looks off into the darkness, pretending there's a crowd. "Anybody got a skateboard?"

"Oh, shut up." Andrea smiles. "Settle down, or Lori's gonna have to pull that photo out."

"May I ask a question?"

We're all so isolated in this pocket of happiness, celebrating the end of our troubles, that when the scientist speaks, I think we're all a little spooked. Smiles freeze and fade. Glasses lower. Heads turn. We're not the only people in the world, we're all realizing. We'd forgotten all about the reason we came here. That's what potato salad does to people, I guess.

The conversation dies off like a guillotine sliced it in half.

"What were you going to toast to?" The scientist asks, and his voice is like a soft, chilly breeze in a forest. I'm not even sure he was sitting there the whole time. Maybe he's supernatural, and he teleported. That makes me scared. "Before you figured out it was her birthday?"

And just like that, the dinner turns awkward. 

Rick clears his throat. "Well, if I'm being completely honest, here, Harley is the reason we came out to the city in the first place. I know I told you that nobody here was infected, but there were a couple days where... we weren't sure. Harley got scratched. We left looking for a cure."

The scientist's eyes roam over to my face, but then they don't leave.

"Now we're on the subject," Shane decides to break the silence, frowning, "How about you tell us what exactly happened here, doc?"

Rick mutters, "We don't have to do this right now, Shane."

"Wait a second." Shane sighs. "You said it yourself, just now. This is why we came all the way out here, right? Figure out what happened? Put all our eggs in one basket, and uh—" He laughs a laugh that tells me nothing is funny here. "Instead we found him. We found one man, talking in riddles. Why is that, you think?"

The scientist tanks the insult. "When things got bad, people just... left, to be with their families. The rest bolted."

I remember just how shocked I was at the size of this building when I first saw it creeping up the windows. It's way too much space for one man. There must have been hundreds of scientists working in here, and now it's just a shell. A cave for a lonely monster.

"Every last one?" Shane whispers, squinting; disbelieving.

The scientist falters, for just a moment, and I can see old pains on his face. "No. Some couldn't face leaving. They... opted out."

The tables goes from quiet to silent. Opted out. I know what that means. It's another one of them things adults say to butter up the truth, and it means killing yourself. I squeak, then, like I've been kicked in the ribs. I hide behind my Dad, who cradles the back of my damp hair, but you can't hide from words once they're in your head. Suicide. Dead, but not an accident — On purpose, with pills, or a gun, or a— a— a bridge. Something snotty gets caught in my throat like a fish-hook, and I'm crying now, at my own birthday dinner. Somebody drops their fork in defeat.

"There was a rash of suicides." Mutters the scientist, immune to his own story; numb. "In a matter of days, I was alone."

"Why didn't you leave?" Asks Andrea.

Carl is crying too, now. I wish I could make him feel better, just for a moment, but I can't.

"I just kept working." Smiles the scientist, but it's not right— It's just muscles, pulling his droopy face upward. "I just wanted to do some good."

Good.

The word reaches up into the ceiling, and leaves us at the bottom, sitting in its echo.

"There is no cure here." The scientist says.

The dinner is over.

Everything comes crashing down as fast as it went flying up.

We were on top of the world just a few hours ago. We were invincible. We had the news that I wasn't going to die in our veins, and then we had hot water and soap and potato salad, and each other. We had hotel rooms and a birthday dinner. But now we just have a dead end and a long list of regrets. There is nothing here for us besides showers, lights, and ghosts. I feel like a trapped animal. I'm a hamster in a maze, going around and around and around, and I can't get out. A rash of suicides. That thing I thought was hiding somewhere, it's this, and it's out, and I'm sorry we ever looked. Please don't let it be worse than it is out here, I remember, Please don't make us regret this.

After what feels like hours, the hallways I'm running down end. I see the game room.

I run inside and corner myself under the table. A cloth hides me from the world outside, and if I pretend hard enough, I can take myself right out of here and into a nice, safe pillow fort, instead. Like the ones I used to make back home. I can be someone else. If I'm in my head, I'm not here.

But then I hear the door open, and it's just a wooden table again, and I'm in the CDC.

"Harley?" It's my Dad, 'cause of course it is. I moan into my hands, crying so hard I'm not getting enough air. "You in here?"

I don't want to be found. I want to be lost.

The cloth lifts.

"Baby, what's wrong?" My Dad asks, but I know he already knows. How could he not know?

There are lots of words that remind me of my Momma, like sunshine, and cigarettes, and the worst — Suicide.

"Get out." I tell him, using my feet to push him away. "Get out."

I should've learnt my lesson back at the quarry, on that night I hit my Dad, but I don't care. I just wanna hurt something. I'm hurting. A rash of suicides. I can't stop hearing it, and I can't stop seeing it — Over and over again, the night on the bridge. Opted out. Suicide. Killing yourself. 

Pills, guns, ropes.

Bridges.

"Baby, I know." Dad's saying, grabbing my kicking feet. "I know. Come out. I don't want you thinkin' 'bout this, so come on out."

"I can't help it!" I sob, 'cause I really can't. Something that is too big for my body is happening to me, and I can't stop it.

"H— I know. Just come out." He's begging, and now he's not just holding my feet, he's pulling 'em; pulling me, out from underneath my hidey hole and into the world, even though I want to stay in here forever. He's trying so hard to bury something that's still alive; something that has teeth and jaws, and is eating me from the inside out. He don't wanna see it, and he don't wanna hear it, and he don't wanna deal with it. I wish he'd curl up in my make-believe pillow fort, and hide from the world with me. I wish he'd understand. "You don't gotta be under there. Come out, right now."

Some days I wanna pull my damn hair out.

He's getting angry again. He's holding himself back from something very nasty that lives inside him.

"No," I'm begging him back; begging him to just listen. "No, I don't wanna come out. I don't wanna—!"

I anchor myself to the table leg. We're an unstoppable force and an immovable object, colliding head on for the first time, ever, and it's a disaster. That night at the quarry was nothing.

Furious, my Dad rips the cloth off the table and boxes of puzzles go toppling over onto the floor, breaking into a million little pieces that used to be happily fused. Newly exposed, he easily ducks under and locks his hand around my wrist. I scream, and I close my eyes so I don't have to see my Daddy like this, 'cause it ain't him anymore. He pries my little fingers off the table, one by one by one, and ow, ow, ow, it really hurts. I'm yanked away, and then he's dragging me out by the ankles, shouting—

"Stop actin' like this. You ain't a baby." I hook myself onto a second leg, and he's wrestling with me all over again. "Stop! Mind yer damn father, girl!"

I'm not a baby, but I wish I was, 'cause we were happy back then.

"Stop!" I sob, kicking at him. "J— Leav— Just leave me alone!"

"I ain't leavin' you alone — You know why?" He's seething down to me. "'Cause you need a damn spanking. That's why."

I think back to an hour ago, when I thought I'd only ever be happy for the rest of my life. What a stupid thing to think.

Don't make it any worse, his voice is warning me, from all the times he's done this before.

But it can't get any worse.

In one big pull of strength, I'm forced out from underneath the table once and for all, where I felt safe and small and alone, into the light of the game room where I feel naked, again, for all to see. My face is raw and wet and hurt, and I think one of my buttons got torn off by my Daddy when he was grabbing for me, even though he was the one to fix them before dinner, and on that night in the RV, to show me he loves me. He yanks me to my feet by the armpits, 'cause I can't stand on my own no more, and he crouches to get in my face.

"This is your last fuckin' chance, and then I'm gonna have to take my belt off." He warns me.

"I miss Momma." I whimper.

His face softens, but it's gone so quick I'm sure I imagined it. "Harley," He grinds out, "Stop this."

"You killed her!" I cry, scared, but braver than I ever been at the same time. "You made Momma kill 'erself! You made 'er jump off that bridge!"

I tried so hard to be like my Daddy, but I can't. I can't hide things like he can.

I don't care if he belts me after. I just want him to know. I want him to know that I know, and that I ain't never gonna forgive him. I'd take a thousand beatings just so I could scream the same thing up at him, until my throat bleeds, until I'm nothin' but a voice, until my Momma comes back. People who kill themselves don't wanna come back, but maybe this time, if I was a good enough girl, she might want to. I'd get on my knees, and I'd beg her, and I'd say, Please Momma, I need you. Please Momma, please. Me and Daddy can't do it on our own. She didn't love my Daddy, and my Daddy hated my Momma. He never said it, but I always knew he did. I saw it when he dropped me off at her house; how he didn't wanna leave me with her. I heard people say my Momma was sick in the brain, and that she was a bad Mom, but I loved her.

My parents might be forever separated, but on my face, they are still together. I got my Daddy's flat mouth and my Momma's green eyes. I am proof that hate can create love. I don't feel so loved right now, though. I feel like I'm nothing. I feel like when my Daddy said he loved me, he was lying.

And there it is, my Daddy's hand going for his belt, 'cause I chose to say the worst thing I could think of.

I don't wanna get beat, but sometimes it don't matter what little girls want.

"I want you to think about the way you're speakin' to me." My Dad, the same one that was crying in my baby photo, shouts in my face. "I don't know why you gotta be like this, Harley. I don't know why you gotta make me do this. You were havin' such a good day."

"I'm sorry—" I'm sayin' now. "I'm sorry, Dad."

"You shoulda thought about that before you started bringing this shit back up again. After this, never again, okay?"

He pulls me down into his chest, yanking the back of my shirt up to the base of my neck. I wait for the whip, and the burning sting afterwards.

I can take it. I'll just close my eyes and wait for it to be over.

But before it can come—

"Woah! Hey!" A man's shout. "Hey, hey! Stop!"

The whip doesn't come. I can catch my breath. 

Under my Dad's arm, the one that's in the air, poised to beat me, I see a man in the doorway. I almost can't make him out, but there he is — It's officer Shane. The room seems to slap him in the face, like he can't believe what he's just walked into. He's scared to step inside, in case the moment breaks and my Dad chooses to beat me, anyway. Shane's a bastard cop, and it's his job to save people. I never thought I'd be needing saved from my Dad. I still don't think I need saving. I brought this on myself. I wish he'd go away, so it could be over with.

My Dad stands up, his whole body clenched with muscle ready to punch.

"I'm gonna ask you put that down, man." This is the first time I'm hearing Shane's police-man voice. "And to step away from her, okay?"

I feel embarrassed.

I'm kneeling on the floor, grabbing onto the side of the sofa, tryna hide myself again. I don't belong here. I don't want Shane to see me like this. I wanna be the little girl he caught frogs with, not a ball of hurt and tears. Suddenly, this isn't a games room anymore. It's a wolf's den, and I got two of 'em right in front of me, circling each other, ready to bite. I scuttle further into the corner, like if I shrink myself enough, I can just disappear into the floor.

"You ain't askin' me shit, officer." Dad whispers, real nasty. "Ain't no rules, no more. Not so tough, now."

"I'm not gonna ask you again, man." Officer Shane warns, stepping very slowly into room.

He moves toward us, inch by inch, like a man inside a lion enclosure.

"You don't gotta." Dad spits. "Door's right there."

"You're hittin' on little girls, now, Daryl." Shane huffs that mean laugh again. "Sorry, buddy, but that's my business. Come on. Step away."

If Shane had his gun in his holster, his hand would be on it. But we left all our weapons in the bedrooms before dinner. He stretches his fingers; tilts his head. I realize he don't need a gun. He's gonna fist-fight my Dad if he don't do what he says. My Dad, sensing this, chucks his belt on top of the broken puzzles, and stretches out his fingers, too. They're one wrong word away from beating each other to a pulp.

I wanna beg 'em to stop, but my voice is burrowed somewhere deep inside my body, and I can't reach it. 

"We don't have to do this, Daryl." Shane's half-way into the room, now. When did he get that close?

"Sure we don't." Dad snarls. "You gonna hit me? Go ahead."

Shane shakes his head. "That's not somethin' I wanna do, man. But you know I will. Step away."

A hiccup I didn't give permission to leave my mouth cuts through the room. Shane glances at me. I don't know who I'm supposed to root for.

"'Step away', huh? Step away from my own daughter?" My Dad scoffs.

Shane glances from me to my Dad, and I can see him start to realize that this angle won't work on my Dad. He holds out his hand. Something about the way he's looking at me is saying, You don't have to be afraid, but I am, and I don't wanna move. I feel like this is my fault. I watch as he flicks his fingers a little, brows raised. "How 'boutchu come over here, Harley, huh?"

Dad blocks me with his body before I can even think about it. "Hey, don't you fuckin' speak to her."

His eyes are back on my Dad. "Just tryna do what's best for everybody, here, Daryl."

My Dad cracks one of his knuckles. "Nah. Nah, I don't think you are. You got it all twisted."

"Don't think I do."

"Yeah?" Dad goads, and every second, I wait for one of them to swing. I can't stand it. "What is it you think you walked in on, then, huh?"

I think my Dad's waiting for the swing, too, 'cause he's so confident that he'll win that he wants officer Shane to try him. He wants to punish him. He wants to show him what happens when you insult a Dixon, 'cause protecting the name is more important than protecting his own body. I think about the way my Dad busted Rick's cheek; How Ronnie's Momma ain't recognise him when my Daddy was done with him.

Shane must be thinkin' the exact same thing, 'cause he starts goading my Dad right back.

"I think I walked in on you beatin' the shit outta your own kid, first of all." Shane shrugs, like it ain't his fault it's fact, and he keeps going when he notices my Dad's breathing get heavy. He's enjoying this. A smile splits his face. "I think we been worrying 'bout Jim this whole time, we been worrying 'bout the wrong man. How 'bout that? You wanted us to be so focused on him, we forget about the real monster."

"That right?" Dad side-steps Shane when he reaches the edge of the coffee-table.

"Sounds right to me, man." Shane says. "Lemme ask you this, Daryl. What is it you think I walked in on?"

I wonder where everyone else is. I wonder if at any second, one of them is gonna walk in.

"It don't matter what I think." Dad shouts, suddenly, and I shriek like I've been struck by the belt. "It's my damn business. It's my damn daughter."

"Yeah, I betchu wish it was." Shane huffs out a chuckle. "Don't want your secret gettin' out, right?"

Shane's like a wriggly little worm, needling my Dad where he don't wanna be needled.

My Dad's patience finally runs out.

He rears back to swing at Shane's head, and his fist is caught and twisted, and I hear Shane grunt in pain, and this is it, so I close my eyes—

Wait.

My eyes are open. That don't make no sense. Why is it so dark? Why can't I see?

I realize that the fight has stopped, and I feel like we've all forgotten about it and are waiting for something to happen.

There's a single murmur throughout the room.

"Was that the power?"

Author's Note.

Cliff-hanger! Mwahahha.

So, obviously, the last scene in this chapter is pretty brutal. I'd like to share why I made the decision to have Daryl act this way, because it could be a shock for some.

For starters, I think it's plausible for a number of reasons. Merle being a bad influence on Daryl, his unhealed childhood trauma and how that affects how he parents his child, and his unhealthy habit of bottling up his emotions, etc.

It's not pretty, I know, and I kind of hated writing that scene, but that brings up my second point. For the sake of the themes and arcs I want to give this story, it was necessary. This story just couldn't exist if it didn't have this scene. I've got, like, three different key subplots linked to it. Maybe you can even guess what they are, because two of them have been hinted at/set up already. They're only going to get more prominent from here on out.

So that's the explanation for anybody who wanted or needed it. You'll see all this play out in the coming chapters, anyway, but I just wanted to provide this in the mean time. :)

Rant over! Phew. Everybody take a sigh of relief.

On a more positive note, everything else in this chapter was a total joy to write! These poor guys deserve some happiness 😌

Hope you enjoyed reading, and as always, please consider sharing your thoughts! Sending love :)

#child abuse #the walking dead #twd fanfiction #twd #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon daughter #daryl dixon fanfiction #daddy issues #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #parent daryl dixon #rick grimes #fanfic #ao3 fanfic

[bellofthemeadow]

Summer of '03 | Joel Miller x Female Reader

Series Masterlist

Rating: M for Mature (18 + no minors allowed)

Word Count: 2.8K

Warning: All warnings on the Series Masterlists, will update if necessary (Re-iterating, no minors allowed! Thank you)

Chapter Summary: You finally arrive in Texas, a world so different from your home in New York. You find that living next door is a man who confuses you. You can't figure out if he's just a stereotipically angry Redneck or the man of your dreams. Ah well, you've got the summer to figure the puzzle that is Joel Miller.

Notes: Hello everyone, welcome to my new story :D This one is going to be quite different from my last story as I am delving into the realm of enemies to lovers! I am so excited as I don't think that any other PedroBoys fits the bill las well as Joel Miller!!! LMK what you think of it, I always love to read what you think of my work and I would also be really stoke to speak with all of you.

I am also working on a taglist at present, so I should make a post probably tomorrow, so if you want to be added to the tagged post, let me know and I'll be happy to add you!

Hope you all enjoy :D

Welcome to Texas

Apparently, your entire life fits neatly into an 8x6 cardboard box, which is somewhat embarrassing. When you made the spontaneous decision to uproot your life and leave New York, little did you know that packing would only take 25 minutes and leave you with so little. However, every item inside that box was a testament to your independence. You had purchased each item with your hard-earned money, not relying on your parents or receiving them as gifts from an ex-boyfriend. Every single thing inside that box was truly yours.

As you set down the box in front of the small suburban house, you squint your eyes taking in your new home for the foreseeable future. You had to admit, it had a certain charm that you found refreshing. The tiny house was a stark contrast to the high-rise condo your family had in New York or the overly opulent summer home in the Hamptons where you’d spend your summer. This place felt nice and quaint, exuding a sense of simplicity that you were craving. The row of houses boasted a similar style, either one or two floors tall, constructed with reddish-coloured brick. The driveways were impressively large, accommodating even bigger trucks. It really does seem like 'everything is bigger in Texas'.

Everything about this neighbourhood screamed quiet suburbia. Since it was still early afternoon on a Sunday, you spied some kids zooming down the street on their bikes like a wild bunch of Tasmanian devils, while a cluster of older ladies powerwalked on the sidewalk and seemed deeply engrossed in their gossip. The sight made you chuckle, they kind of looked like a swarm of salmon with their pink velour tracksuit. You were kind of impressed. In this heat, the only thing you wanted to do was lie down on the cold floor for at least two hours or stick your head in the freezer for a minute—the jury was still out. But that was probably because of your New Yorker sensibilities. Most of the people you spotted going about their day seemed completely unfazed by what you would categorize as temperature from at least the 4th circle of hell.

You sighed and put your arms high above your head, interlacing your fingers and giving your back a much-needed stretch. As depressing as the sight of the lone cardboard box holding your entire life was, you were glad that you didn't have a lot of stuff to take with you from New York. The drive had been almost unbearable. As a New Yorker, you didn't have many opportunities to drive that often, and this trip had actually been the first time you had driven your brand-new Alfa Romeo GT. It was a Christmas gift from your grandma, chosen for both sentimental and practical reasons, and you decided to take it with you as you up hauled your life to literally the other end of the country.

No one in your family had understood why you wanted, no, needed to leave, except for Granny Mabel. While your parents scolded you as if you were still a pigtailed little girl, timidly requesting seconds at dinner, Granny Mabel simply glanced at you, winking beneath her oversized Givenchy glasses, as she took a generous sip of her red wine. In that fleeting moment, you knew that no matter what unfolded, you would have the approval of the lionesses of New York’s Upper East Side.

But after what felt like three days of almost non-stop driving, you were ready to declare that you didn't even want to look at your car for at least a week. You felt like you had your share of driving to last you a lifetime. Although you knew that wouldn’t really be possible. After all, Texas was not known for the same kind of public transportation as New York. Ah well, when in Rome—or in this case, Texas.

As a few neighbours started to cast curious glances your way, you became aware of the possibility that loitering around an empty porch on an early Sunday afternoon might raise suspicions. You opened your handbag and rummaged through it, moving aside packages of half-eaten candy bars, a couple of lipsticks, emergency wet wipes, and tampons before you finally found the paper your friend Robbie had given you before you left three days ago.

Scrawled in your friend's messy chicken scratch, were an address and a name: "Joel Miller." Beneath it, a hasty note explained, "Joel was Great Aunt Ruth's neighbour. He was helping her with the property ever since he and his daughter moved in next door. We asked him to hold onto the keys until someone could come to take care of the house after Aunt Ruth passed away. Joel knows you're coming. Take care, my dear, and I'll miss you. New York won't be the same without your judgy ass!"

A smile spread across your face as you read the words. Robbie had been the most important part of your life in New York. You both met during your first year of college. You were studying pre-med, while he pursued performing arts at NYU, dreaming of a future on Broadway. Instantly, you connected with each other. Despite your family's legacy of surgeons, you had always yearned to be on the stage. So, in your first year, you took a theatre elective and met Robbie. The two of you became inseparable. His apartment in Brooklyn provided a refuge from the suffocation you felt at home, and you ended up spending most nights there. By the fourth month of your friendship, you even started contributing to some of the utilities, although Robbie insisted you didn't have to. But you didn't mind. Your parents had money, and you used a lot of hot water, so it was the least you could do.

And now, here you were, on the other side of the country, ready to take a break and maybe have some fun! You silently prayed to any gods out there, hoping they would listen and guide you toward figuring out what you truly wanted in your life. Happiness seemed to be slipping away with each passing day, and you hoped this summer would bring some clarity. You looked back down at the piece of paper, making a mental note to call Robbie once you got inside the house to thank him and reassure him that you were alive after that long trip.

For now, you needed to escape the scorching heat before you melted away. Your hair was beyond recognizable because of the frizz humidity brought out, and sweat patches were forming under your armpits. You cringed at the situation but tried to reassure your growing anxiety: "Who cares what Joel Miller thinks? You thought. You've been through more embarrassing moments than being sweaty in front of a middle-aged dad." Memories of laugh-snorting vodka cranberry all over your crush Colin Robertson's shirt at a post-finals party two years ago came rushing back. You were convinced you had permanently stained his favourite white Lacoste polo with cranberry, judging by the disdainful looks he had given you ever since. So, dealing with a middle-aged redneck should be a breeze in comparison.

You hurriedly made your way to the neighbouring house, desperately hoping that Joel Miller would be there. The thought of being stuck outside indefinitely made you want to cry. You tugged at your jean shorts, which clung uncomfortably to your sweaty thighs, and adjusted your oversized "1991 - Walt Disney" t-shirt, a hand-me-down from your older brother. You tied it in a knot at the front, revealing a sliver of midriff. It dawned on you that you needed to buy more weather-appropriate clothes—an item added to your ever-growing to-do list.

As you stood in front of Joel Miller's house, you hesitated. What if Robbie had forgotten to inform him about your visit? Would Joel think you were some kind of psychopath? He’d definitely think you were a little crazy. Taking a deep breath, you firmly knocked on the wooden front door. When, after a solid minute, there was no response, a sinking feeling of disappointment washed over you, suggesting that Joel Miller might not be home after all. You decided to try ringing the doorbell—once, twice. As you debated whether to attempt a third ring or call Robbie, you heard noises from behind the door, followed by a loud exclamation, "JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, give me a minute!"

You felt yourself turning pale, and you began fidgeting with your rings, mentally preparing yourself for whatever was about to happen next. The door was ripped open, and your temperature skyrocketed as you faced the man in front of you. Joel Miller was... not what you expected. He loomed before you, tall and imposing, with a mess of dishevelled brown hair crowning his head. What you first noticed was the broadness of his shoulders, it made your mouth go dry as you started to imagine what it would feel like to hold these shoulders in the throws of passion. You could almost picture yourself under him, naked and sweaty, holding unto him and leaving kitten scratches on his powerful back. Your eyes started to take the man in front of you, he was clad in low-hanging sweatpants, his powerful thighs and defined waistline were accentuated. Your gaze was transfixed on him, unable to look away. You were certain you spotted what had to be an impressive bulge in the front of his thin pants and you wanted nothing more than the check if he was as well endowed as he seemed to be. Joel Miller was a man unlike any you had encountered before, emanating a potent blend of masculine confidence and ruggedly handsome charm. You felt insignificant and childlike in your own outfit. What would he think of your sweat-soaked Disney shirt, your perspiring face, and your overall dishevelled appearance? You wished you could rewind time and change into one of your nice little baby-doll dresses, the one that deliciously played on innocence and sinful seduction, you always felt your most confident in them. At least, you wished you had freshened up before meeting this man. Your mother had always emphasized the importance of first impressions, and now, as you observed the fury in his warm brown eyes, it seemed like you had utterly shattered any chance of making a favourable first impression.

The deep baritone of his voice snapped you out of your reverie, as he demanded, "Who the hell are you?" You stammered, "Ehh, I am so sorry to bother you..."

"You better not tell me you some kinda salesman? 'Cause if ya woke me up from the only full sleep I’ve had in two weeks to sell me some bullshit air conditioning, Imma get real fuckin' mad!” You gulp and squirm under his angry stare. "I reckon the appropriate term is salespeople, to be inclusive, you know." Your voice squeaks in an embarrassing sound. What the hell was wrong with you? You weren't some kind of shrinking violet, but at this moment, under Joel Miller's hard stare, you felt like dying. Or at least digging a hole and hiding inside.

"I am really sorry to bother you, Mr. Miller," you try to muster a modicum of confidence, "I am a friend of Robbie Levitt." When Joel's face remained impassive, you felt like it was his permission to keep going. "He is… was Ruth Kaplan's nephew… ehh, the lady who lived…"

"I know who Mrs. Kaplan is," Joel Miller cuts you off and stares at you, squinting his eyes. "You that rich kid from New York?" You feel yourself groan inside, fucking Robbie babbling about your business to everyone. As much as you loved the guy, he was a complete gossip. You simply nod your head, feeling quite unable to say anything, completely tongue-tied.

"You’re late," Joel Miller's words are biting and sharp, and they are cutting into you, making you feel small and childish. "Late for... what? I'm not sure I follow," you say softly.

Joel Miller sighs loudly and shakes his head. "That Levitt kid told me you'd be here yesterday evening, waited late for you to come around, princess." You feel yourself grow even hotter, either from the embarrassment of seeming flaky or from the nickname; you aren't sure yet.

"Oh," you softly say. "I am sorry, I didn't realize. Robbie just said to be here over the weekend. I didn't realize you'd wait for me."

"So , what? You thought that because you some kind of rich important lady from the city you could waste my time? ‘Cause I’m just some redneck contractor from Texas, right? Who cares if you waste everyone’s time, imma right?” His stare is hard and you don’t know what to do or say without making him even more mad. “It’s not like that, I never thought… I am really sorry.” You settle for, thinking it’s your best bet so as to not antagonize him further.

A low growl, “It's fine," he responds curtly and abruptly. It doesn’t sound fine; you think as he looks like he is 5 seconds away from slamming the door in your face. But my god, everything about this man is hard, his words, his face… his body. You don't know if you should love it or hate it, but as your eyes fall to his hard pectorals you feel yourself falling into the former category. "Wait here." He disappears inside his house before returning with a set of keys he promptly drops into your hands. "Here you go."

"Thank you ever so much, Mr. Miller. And I am really sorry again about last night… And for waking you up and everything" You cringe as a dismissive twitch of the head serves as his feeble reply. As you pivot away, trudging along in a pitiful display of humiliation toward Ruth's house, the air fills with Joel Miller’s deep voice once again “Here's a life tip, sweetheart. When someone doesn't answer the door, maybe ya need to take a hint. Not all of us can afford endless days off or live in a rent-free house. Some of us have real jobs, princess, and those of us that do appreciate every bit of peace we can get.”

You feel like crying, tears gathering up in your eyes, but you won't let them fall. You won't give Joel Miller the satisfaction of knowing that he made you cry. So, you settle, "Sure... I apologize for everything. I didn't mean to be a bother." No answer, so you take it as your cue to leave, feeling dismissed like a child at school.

You turn around and try to muster your best fake smile, the same one you used for your mother and father and give a little wave. "Hope you can get back to sleep soon. I'll make sure to not be in your way again." And you scurry away as fast as your legs can.

Summer of fun and discovery is off to a great start, you think sarcastically, as you rip Aunty Ruth’s door open and let the tears fall. Goddamn it, why did you have to antagonize the most handsome man you'd ever seen in your entire life? Joel Miller, you think. You should despise him. He was unnecessarily mean and condescending. Sure, you had been in the way, but how were you to know he would be sleeping at 1 pm on a Sunday? You groan, at this point anyway, he probably loathed you. Yet, strangely enough, you had never encountered a man who could twist your insides as intensely as he did. In the 5 minutes conversion you had with him, you felt your inside growing hot and your belly erupting in a million of butterflies. You wonder what his eyes would be like if they weren’t hard and angry. They were brown and warm, so you imagined how they would feel raking over your skin with longing or desire. Yeah, that’s not going to happen, you think as your mind cringes back to the awful words he said.  

Joel Miller. Even the mere sound of his name left a strong, lingering flavour in your mouth. You squirm, feeling conflicted, not knowing whether to yearn for his strong domineering presence or simply try your best to avoid him like the plague this summer. You shake your head, you'll sort out your feelings, or whatever hormones this man triggered, later. Right now, you just need to find the damn freezer and try to cool down. However, after meeting Joel Miller, you're well aware that the fire inside you will continue to burn hard for some time.

Next Chapter

#tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou smut #tlou hbo #tlou series #the last of us hbo #the last of us #the last of us smut #the last of us fluff #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fandom #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedrohub #pedro pascal characters #pedro boys #pedro pascal fandom #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x reader #joel miller #pedro pascal

[wren-writes-things]

Let's see... 1, 9, 12, 13 for the fandom ask games? :)

Oh hey Pixel! Thanks for asking.

OTP? 

Probably Sasharcy (of course in the context of Sashannarcy). I absolutely adore all variants of the Calamity Trio but I just tend to drift towards them. My guess is that the personality contrast, and possibly just how much they both need to grow and forgive each other. I don't know it just intrigues me.

I also really like platonic Zelink from the BotW/TotK iteration.

9. Write a recommendation of someone else's fic you enjoyed!

Hmm... Pixel go read your own fanfic! Joking, probably

And I Know I Kissed You Before (But I Didn't Do It Right) - BearerOfTheBitterMoon (liminal-lesbian on here) - Okay I could put all of Mara's fanfics on here. Her writing style and story concepts are just amazing. But we'd be here all day, so we're not going to do that. This one specifically though, was just such an emotional rollercoaster (without leaving with permanent emotional trauma, ex: The Three Body Problem). It's very sweet, it's very sad and it all just feels so real. If that makes any sense

A Witch In Wartwood - Disect - I haven't finished the sequel fanfic yet, but I love this story. It had a very creative take on a Swap AU, and it did a really good job at capturing the essence of the original show while also completely being it's own thing.

Pinpoint - i'm-at-my-limit - Okay, I need to get caught up on this one, because I love the concept and I find it's characterization really interesting but I'm also behind by like two chapters because I wasn't reading as much for a while.

Across The Seven Seas - Heart_Wit_Strength - Did I successfully trick you into thinking I wasn't going to say this? Did it work? Seriously though this is one of those fanfics that I read, immediately reread and proceeded to think about for the next three days. I actually have fan art of it that I need to complete some day. I don't know what you did, but you succeeded at it.

Then there's this one fanfic about Sasha that I really like, but I cannot find it or remember what it is called.

(I have quite a few others that I really liked, these are just the four that were in my brain apparently)

12. What's the funniest or craziest AU idea you've ever come up with?

So the same week that I created Daren, I also created what I call that Devil in the Details AU. Which is one of those AUs where it could be angsty, but I decided it was way funnier to write absurd shenanigans.

Basically Marcy, a lonely and aimless college student, opens a music box (gifted to her by her academic mentor, Andrias) and ends up with Darcy as the devil on her shoulder. Then Anne and Sasha are sent by heaven to prevent her from becoming corrupted and taken over by them.  

Of course, it’s a massive train wreck. 

Darcy is trying to convince Marcy that she should trust them. But because Sasha and Anne are almost always there they can only accomplish this through underhanded life coaching. (Though when Sasha and Anne aren’t there it’s manipulation is more direct).

Sasha is a nearly fallen angel who has taken to giving beneficial but selfish advice and also physically attacking any devils that she ends up paired with. 

Anne is just trying to get Sasha back on the right path and to find a way to get rid of Darcy so Marcy can go back to a normal life.

Then Marcy who was incredibly lonely finally has a social life and people that she can get engaged in her interests. So she’s convinced this is a great thing and is scheming to make it permanent. 

And from this queue all of the comedic shenanigans that could possibly come out of it. But also Anne and Sasha helping guide Marcy into making a life for herself that she really wants rather than what everyone kept telling her she wanted. While Darcy of course tries to counteract that because they assume she searching for a very specific type of success and do not understand any other idea.

13. What's a character or ship you haven't written/drawn yet but would like to some day?

So ironically the answer here is also Sasharcy. I’m not sure how this happened but we have two Sashanne centric AUs (TOH and BotW) and two Marcanne centric ones (Witch Marcy and also BotW). But none of them have focused on Sasha and Marcy specifically (aside from post breakup in the Witch Marcy AU). It's a really interesting occurrence

#answered asks #heart-wit-strength #Amphibia #Amphibia Devil in the Details AU

[dreamingon-forever]

Current WIP Levihan Fics

Just wanted to give a little update on the fanfics and drabbles I'm currently working on. I don't have a set date on when to release them, but I do have them mostly done so I should at least release a few in the next couple of days or weeks.

I've been finding it difficult to put a timeline to my writing as it makes me feel rushed and as if my work is more of a deadline instead of something I enjoy for myself. Sorry if I let anyone down or disappointed anyone because of that. I'll try to make up for it with the works I'm working on.

Here's a list and small description of the works I'm writing currently:

Royalty AU: Levi and Hange are the crown royals of their respective nations. But because of a treaty set by their ancestors, they're forced to marry each other as a sign of peace. Only problem being, they absolutely hate each other.

Tea Shop AU: Levi is a co-owner of a tea shop with his friend Erwin. Thanks to Erwin, Hange had been hired to work with them due to her financial strains as she awaits a research position at the nearby university. It becomes a daily thing where Hange flirts up Levi, trying to get him to accept a date from her, but Levi thinks it's just Hange trying to annoy him and rejects her every time. And it becomes too late when he realizes Hange had been honest about her feelings the whole time.

Childhood Friends Turned Strangers: Where neighborhood best friends Levi and Hange become estranged after Hange overhears Levi saying he wished he didn't become friends with Hange.

Memory Loss: After a fight between Levi and Hange, and a very bad expedition outside the walls, Hange ends up losing her memories, and specially those revolving around Levi, who she doesn't recall meeting at all. Levi tries to figure out his new place in Hange's life when she doesn't hold the same sentiments towards him as before.

Marley Suits: The origin story of Hange's suit worn in Marley. The idea that Levi was actually the one who chose it for her, and their backstory revolving his choice.

Writing Lessons: After Levi came into the Survey Corps, Hange was tasked with teaching him to read and write. They start communicating through diaries and develop a deep connection through them.

Tea Company: Levi is the vice president of a tea company. He hires Hange as a researcher to further their tea leaves production but can't seem to get along with the brunette. Hange eventually teaches him that his methods of treating employees and prioritizing monetary gains is not the best way to live life.

Black Tea is Fine Chapter 14: Hange and Levi finally express their feelings for each other. Only problem is, not everyone agrees with their happiness.

Truth be told, I have so many ideas but neither my schedule nor my my mind have the capacity to sit down and work through it all. I'm really hoping to at least put some out soon. Thank you for all the love and hope you'll enjoy the stories once they're out.

#hange zoe #levi ackerman #aot #levihan #levi x hange #levi x hanji #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #levihan ff #levihan fanfiction #aot fanfiction

[amethystina]

I was casually rereading whtd, as one does, and reading the comments (because i love the extra insight you give about the information that we're limited to in Ga On's pov) when i stumbled upon this comment: "… sort everything out? (and no one dies along the way, hopefully) He'll be very happy for them." about lawyer Ko and that in combination with the "minor character death tag" has made me Extremele worried about him. (plus you have also said that the kidnapping tag is not the one we should be worried about!!) I know you probably can't say anything about this because of spoilers, but know that it has been noted!!

Also kind of want a scene wherein lawyer Ko, Yo Han and Ga On are all together. Their dynamic would be so exquisite!! (obviously no pressure to actually write this, just a thought)

Anyway, whtd remains so good even after already having read and reread it in its entirety at least 5 times (and some scenes/chapters much more than that) (my ao3 history says i've visited whtd 200 times… so uh. yeah. i'm normal). I love slow burn so much (to the point where most romance book leave me disappointed bc they MCs get together like 100 pages in), i just love reading/watching the build up of a relationship and you write it so well!

I guess i just wanted to thank you for writing! I hope you're doing well <3

I'm usually very careful not to spoil what's going to happen in future chapters but I'll make an exception this time and flat-out say that you don't have to worry — Lawyer Ko is not going to die. I would literally never forgive myself if I killed him xD Not to mention that you all would probably come for my head if I did. He's just too amazing to be killed off!

So, rest assured, he's not going to die :)

And there will be at least one scene with Ga On, Yo Han, and Lawyer Ko in the same room unless my plans change dramatically. Which they rarely do, but "rarely" isn't the same as "never" so we'll see. Truth be told, though, I'll probably try really hard to keep it because I totally agree — the dynamic would be SPECTACULAR. So yeah. Stay tuned for that, I guess? ;)

You've definitely read Who Holds the Devil more times than I have x'D At least in its entirety. I mean, I reread the chapters at least twice (often three or four times) but I rarely start from the beginning and read it all the way through. I did at the end of my long break last year to get back into the swing of it, but it's difficult to find the time for that since I always have to focus on the next chapter. Which is a bit stressful at times, I will admit, since it puts more pressure on me to remember things at the top of my head (or at least know where to look if I want to check any details) but I'm lucky enough to be blessed with a really good memory, so that helps.

Anyway, I'm so glad you're enjoying it 💜 I honestly didn't plan for the slow burn to be quite this slow when I started the fic, but I can't say I have any regrets. Much like you, I just enjoy it too much ;) There's something so incredibly satisfying about delving this deep into Ga On and Yo Han's feelings and slowly developing relationship. And I guess that's also why I can't help throwing out tidbits of information in the comments, since there's usually so, so much happening within this story that you readers don't see (especially within Yo Han's head).

And I'm still not sure how to handle the knowledge that some people read the comments specifically to find those tidbits. Like, I don't mind you doing so! Go right ahead! They're public and all that. But it kind of blows my mind that some of you are so interested in what I'm writing that you'll do that. It feels a bit surreal to me, but in a good way? Like I'm an ACTUAL writer or something xD

Anyway, thank you so much for this kind and supportive message 💜 I definitely needed it right now because things honestly aren't all that great. Partly because of overall exhaustion and restlessness — mostly due to work — but even more so since it's now been a month since I posted a chapter and the requests for me to please update soon are starting to come in. I swear, it happens like clockwork every time I don't post within a month. And, what makes it worse, is that it's often from people I don't see comments from when I actually DO upload more frequently. As in, they don't comment on the fic itself, only when they think I don't update fast enough. Which is pretty disheartening, not going to lie.

Tragically enough, once the month mark passes, I have to start bracing myself whenever I get a comment or ask because there's now a 50/50 chance that it'll be someone asking me to update soon. They usually try to be nice about it, but it kind of always fails.

So, again, thank you for this. Because while I know that I should take my time and update on my own schedule, it's not always easy to remember that when people start asking me why it's taking so long. This was a nice change of pace and I'm very grateful for your kindness. Thank you 💜

#Amethystina Replies #Anonymous #... well that turned into a bit of a bummer #Sorry about that #I think I'm just a bit moody in general tonight #I actually have 8k written on the next chapter #But as usual I don't know exactly how long it'll end up being #So that's not saying much #I also admit that I'm kind of dragging my feet a little #Because it's another chapter that's very exhausting to write #And since I'm already exhausted it's difficult to find the energy to write #I'm not one of those who need motivation since I can push through most types of writer's block #But I DO need to be able to string sentences together #And I can't guarantee that in my current state