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ma1dita · 2 months

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crazy little thing

a ‘partners in crime’ installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 3.4k

summary: (pre-established relationship) The one where he spends all his drachmas to make you smile. Sometimes, the Apollo kids are better matchmakers than Aphrodite herself. Everyone’s tired of you two dancing around each other. Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader

a/n: lil valentines day special though im working on more est. relationship fluff after this!! happy season 2 renewal babies

(posted 2/9/24 unbetaed)

—

“Come on, you gotta admit—it’s kinda funny!”

Luke is met with blank stares at the camp store after he places a few drachmas onto the folding table in front of the Apollo kids. They’re not sure if he’s trying to convince them, or himself.

Because yeah, that’s the excuse he goes for, wanting to spend his savings on having them sing to a certain head counselor instead of admitting his blatantly obvious feelings, so if you ask Lee Fletcher and his half-siblings, it’s kind of pathetic.

“What do we look like, a traveling mariachi band, Castellan?” he deadpans, watching the usually confident boy scratch the back of his neck with his face red like someone who’s been sitting out in the sun for too long.

“I’m not saying to follow her around all day or whatever, just pick a random time to sing a song and catch her off-guard,” he insists, before meeting the judgmental look of one of Lee’s younger siblings.

Lee chuckles, ruffling his sister’s hair before looking at Luke quite seriously, “She’s a good friend. You’re gonna have to pay us more than that. Special song for a special lady after all.”

The son of Hermes knows he’s gonna regret this sooner or later, but proceeds to throw the rest of his meager earnings onto the table. He has other ways of being resourceful anyway, the box of chocolates he nicked from behind the store counter feeling heavy in his jacket pocket.

“Right…she’s just a friend.”

Luke’s hands fidget at his sides as he stands there, feeling a little stupid.

Lee’s little sister scoops up the coins from the table, her raised eyebrows and light aura mirroring that of her older brother.

“What song were you thinking?” she asks, “Gotta make sure I know it if I’m singing it to your…friend.”

The 18-year-old boy tugs at his dark curls, getting more embarrassed and wanting to retreat with every minute that passes, but he’s never been one to back down from anything–swordfights, monsters, capture the flag, but this—trying to impress you...is a whole different story somehow.

Why are feelings so damn complicated?

It feels like being at the butt of a joke, or more accurately—at the sharp edge of a sword, and Luke never lets his fights end in a draw.

“You guys got it covered. Just…surprise me too, I guess,” he sighs, walking off without finishing his sentence. He wishes he could pray a little harder to his dad for luck, even if he’s unsure of what exactly he’s wishing for (or if his dad will even listen).

“Castellan’s hopeless. You think he knows it yet?” the girl asks her brother, to which Lee laughs.

“I don’t think she does either, even though everyone else can see right through them. The new bets are on who’s gonna break first. Chiron’s been keeping track, but don’t tell Mr. D.”

If Luke wants a show, they’ll make sure he’ll get his money’s worth—and hopefully, it’ll push you two along faster. Lee bet on you two getting together before the summer after all, and he’ll be damned if he loses to Clarisse.

—

Valentine’s Day might be the day of love, but for you, someone who’s single (not by choice), and heavily busy with making sure people aren’t so…enamored in public (you’ve lost count of the reports you’ve written out due to indecent behavior this morning alone)---this just feels like another Wednesday, except with more hormonal teenagers with uncontrollable urges than usual.

Oh, the joys of being the daughter of the camp director, also known as everyone’s favorite narc.

Honestly, love can suck it. With this much love in the air, you can feel it suffocating you like a plastic bag over your head.

That’s an uncontrollable urge. Too much?

Maybe Silena was right, you do need to open yourself up more to romantic opportunities. But if you have to watch another person swap spit and get pawed at like they’re the last dinner roll at the table….You might commit arson and set this place ablaze.

You just didn’t understand why people had to go all out today of all days. Shouldn’t love be shown year-round? Though you were a person of theatrics and enjoy a good show, it is amazing how much grandiose displays of affection make you cringe. It felt very performative, instead of genuine, and you would know, you’re the best actress at camp. You’ve acted out stories before, knowing all of the greatest romances and tragedies by heart. And you pride yourself on being a decent teacher to the campers, but for some of them, love still translates to a bad rendition of a ballad they heard on the radio.

Nothing gets past you at this point.

But that sucks too sometimes, you know?

Multiple failed flings and a heartbreak or two weigh down on you on days like this one, as you’re stuck being a bystander to outlandish displays put on by the Aphrodite kids being put to work. Love is their domain anyway, and yours…makes you feel a little less undesirable. Each demigod has their own strengths and weaknesses, but perhaps in the name of love, some of them don’t know how to take a hint. Several forgettable prose readings, a Sparknotes version of Eros and Psyche, and too many red roses to count have you reeling from exhaustion and a bit of disgust—-and it’s only lunchtime.

So yeah, maybe you’re a little jealous; they could call you Nemesis at this point.

The only flowers you got today were from the little kids from along the path to the strawberry orchard, and though it’s sweet—the human side of you misses affection.

Devotion.

To be a daughter of Dionysus meant to deal in extremes, obsession or nothing, and there are very few people who can handle that. Always being too much to handle, or uninterested as a defense mechanism. Perhaps that’s what scares admirers away.

That, or the fact that Luke Castellan is always attached to your hip. To be honest, you’ve always preferred it that way—the both of you working as a pair always gets things done faster around camp and he brightens your mood, whether you admit it or not.

But you two are just friends.

Really good friends who look for each other in crowded rooms, hands constantly brushing against the other for comfort, and able to pick up where the other one leaves off. Usually he’s the first person you see in the morning, and the last person you say goodnight to. You know how he likes his coffee and he cuts your apples for you as you two sit together in your unassigned seats in the dining pavilion. You watch each other’s workshops and if one of you is missing, everyone knows to ask the other to get an answer.

Right? That’s totally normal coworker/friend behavior.

If you were ever given immortality, perhaps they’d make you the goddess of denial.

You’re sweeping up confetti from the dining hall floor after an uncoordinated excuse of a flash mob was performed for one of the Demeter kids…and not to sound like a heinous bitch, but maybe next time they should use something biodegradable…or less messy. Sighing deeply, you feel someone’s eyes on you, and when you look up, Luke’s standing there with two full plates of food.

“Take a break, trouble. No one’s paying you overtime,” he jokes, and you roll your eyes as you put the broom aside.

“No one’s paying me at all…” you groan, before taking the plate out of his hands and knocking your head against his shoulder in thanks. He snickers as his hand brushes the small of your back, tickling your spine as he leads you to sit at a table.

“Just another holiday. You know how it is.”

“It’d be nice to have a night off though. Sometimes I regret taking up the position,” you mumble through spoonfuls of soup. He throws his large hand over your shoulder, kneading some tension from your trapezius. Head jerking along with the movements, you giggle as soup dribbles off your spoon, which makes his lips quirk into a small smile. Being around you felt so thoughtless and easy that if you told him to jump off a bridge he’d do it without question, which should be more concerning—the hold you have on him is irrevocable. Feelings are way too difficult for his teenage brain to comprehend at this stage. It’s easier to wash dishes with lava or fight off a dragon (bad example, he knows, but there’s something about you that already makes him feel like he’s losing before anything’s even happened).

Luke is someone who fights until the end, a soldier who’s always trained and so ready that sometimes it makes you wonder what war he’s preparing for. Infatuation, or the scarier, four-letter word was not something he was ever briefed on.

“No, you don’t. You’re a control freak,” he says with a grin.

Luke watches you play with the pendant on your necklace, the dragon scale he fashioned into your favorite accessory glinting in your hand. Running your fingers back and forth over the smooth surface, your other hand puts the spoon down and you place your head on his shoulder. He thinks if he had to describe the four-letter word on the tip of his tongue, he’d tell whoever’s asking about the way you kissed his healing cheek after you both left the Garden of Hesperides. More than a year later, Luke is still unable to find the right words even if the weakness has made a home in his heart with your name written all over it.

“I swear if I have to hear another person croak out a lovesong I might just drown myself in the Long Island Sound,” you scoff as his fingers trace circles onto your waist.

There’s a low strum of a guitar that reaches your ears and your forehead meets the cool surface of the table as you shut your eyes and grumble. It’s Lee and his half-siblings, beginning to walk through the hall seconds away from singing until they see Luke shaking his head and dragging his finger across his throat to please, gods, stop. The Apollo kids swivel and 180, walking out of the hall as the music stops dissonantly, rolling their eyes and dragging their feet.

“That was quick,” you say inquisitively as your head pops up from the table to see Luke looking off in the distance.

“Heh…I think they were just practicing or something…”

He then had to run off and pay them more drachmas for the inconvenience.

Fucking hustlers.

—

The sun sets quickly on Camp Half-Blood since it’s mid-February, and Luke finds you trying to calm your nerves as you look at the mess of glitter and paper mache that covers the arts and crafts hall from floor to ceiling.

“I can’t believe this!” you say in disbelief as you look at Luke, and he takes the can of Redbull out of your shaking hand.

“There’s just no fucking way everyone decided to use glitter. It’s everywhere! I’m—CONNOR, PUT THE SCISSORS DOWN!”

Luke sighs as he holds his hand out for his younger brother to give up the craft scissors, which he relinquishes with a mischievous grin.

“Guys, go find trouble somewhere else,” Luke mutters, pushing his head away, and where Connor goes, Travis quickly follows, tossing a canister of glitter back at him and not knowing it was still open.

“Oops.”

Immediately, the both of you are showered in iridescent particles, floating over your heads and stuck in your hair as the older Stoll brother looks at the two of you wide-eyed.

“You've already got trouble anyway,” he says teasingly, and this asshole winks at Luke before bolting out the door.

The room is silent now, and you pinch the bridge of your nose, before speaking, “I don’t care if he’s your brother, Luke. I might just fucking kill him.” You'd say more but your eyes are shut as you try not to breathe in glitter, and then the sound of the doorknob rattling catches your attention. Luke is standing there, finally faced with a door he can’t open, his eyebrows furrowed in annoyance–but the effect isn’t as menacing as it should be when he’s covered in red and pink sparkles.

“Not if I get to him first, the little bastard.”

“Just open the door,” you say panicked, running over and forcing his hands off the doorknob.

“I can’t if you won’t let me do it!” He grits, elbowing you and trying to unlock the door with both his inherited gift and brute strength.

“What kind of demigod even are you? Lockpicking is supposed to be your thing!”

“Well OBVIOUSLY, but it’s not working, now is it, trouble?”

Luke finishes off the rest of your energy drink before throwing the can over his shoulder and he swears he can hear you cuss at him under your breath as you berate him about the mess, so he chooses to focus on busting the door down instead of looking at the glitter stuck in your eyelashes and thinking about how the idea of being stuck in a room with you makes him feel weak at the knees. Through the window, his eyes meet the group of Apollo kids staring at the predicament you two are in (and the barricade of chairs the Stoll brothers put in front of the door). He sighs, and Lee’s little sister flips him off as they start to walk away again, instruments in tow.

“You gonna charge him again?”

A tiny Will Solace looks at his elders for guidance as they walk along the path. As one of the youngest in the bunch, he especially idolizes anything his half-siblings do, going along with whatever they see fit.

“No, but we’re close enough to the archery range that I might just shoot them through their hearts myself. Eros and Aphrodite themselves are pretty much begging us to,” Lee grumbles.

“Why are we doing this again?” Will babbles, and his half-sister grabs his hand to help him walk faster.

“A crazy little thing called love. You’ll understand it better someday, kid.”

—

Thankfully, it all starts winding down after dinner. Luke finds you leaning against a tree flipping through your clipboard during the camp sing-along, so he tugs at your elbow to get your attention.

“Wanna get out of here?”

You look at him, slotting your pen behind your ear as you notice faint glitter particles still dotted along his cheeks. As your lips pull into a small smile, you say, "I still have a few things to do after this, don't you?"

"Cleared your schedule for the night," he mumbles, and whether it's the glow of the bonfire or he's actually blushing, a teasing expression crosses your face as you step closer and cross your arms at him.

"You cleared my schedule for the night. How on earth did you do that?"

Instead of a proper reply, he grabs your hand, tugging you out to the docks near the lake.

"Don't worry about it."

He's not going to tell you that he owes Chris and Annie a few favors before the end of the month to make up for the night shift they ended up taking. Instead, you both sit cross-legged at the edge of the dock, a gentle breeze brushing at your clothes and for the first time today, you're able to just exist.

"I hate Valentine's Day," you suddenly say, looking up at the night sky, and he's watching you closely as the gentle shine of the moon casts a cool glow on your face. Luke cringes at your statement, thinking he's already thrown away his shot.

"Why's that?"

"Tell me something Luke, am I unlikable? Like, is there anything wrong with me?"

He looks at you like you've told him you’re secretly a cyclops.

“The fuck? How many times do I have to tell you that everyone thinks you’re great?"

You don't even give him a chance to finish his sentence before you blurt, "I don’t want to be great, I want to be loved!" Reeling back a little, you lean back on your hands to create some distance.

“Sorry... that was a lot, and I’m just...wanting to be noticed. It's nice to have people's attention sometimes, you know?”

You’ve got all of mine, he thinks, realizing he never stood a chance at fighting it—this four-letter feeling you give him is the first and only battle he’ll back down from, and you're the only person he’ll wholeheartedly surrender to.

In short, he’s fucked.

"I always notice you." He pulls out a dented box of chocolates from his jacket pocket, opening it up for the both of you to share, and the look of amusement on your face makes him glad that at least one thing somewhat went to plan today, even if the chocolate truffles are a bit smushed. You’re popping one into your mouth and his dark eyes follow the trail of your fingers to your mouth, feeling his heart beat a bit faster.

But then you both hear the soft strum of a guitar from near the trees, and the two of you turn to hear some of the Apollo kids singing beautifully along the coastline.

I'll be seeing you, in all the old, familiar places...That this heart of mine embraces...

You gasp, grabbing Luke’s arm to push yourself up so that the both of you can turn and face a small group of your closest Apollo friends singing to the both of you. Luke’s eyes soften further when he feels you grab his hand and squeeze, leaning against his shoulder as you listen.

“Did you do this?” you mumble, still entranced by the performance.

“Only if it makes you laugh.”

And you do, in the way that he loves—a bit crazy and too loud, and it’s perfect.

I’ll always think of you that way…I’ll find you in the morning sun….

Whether it’s fireflies or Will bouncing light off the water to look like small, glowing candles, Luke can’t tell—he’s too busy watching your lips pull into a smile so confectionery his sweet tooth starts to ache. The little kid was never good at archery like his other half-siblings, but as your eyes shimmer under the ambient lights, you think his added romantic gesture shot you straight through the heart.

“You know, sometimes I really do hate you, Luke Castellan,” you whisper, and it couldn’t be more far from the truth.

“No, you don’t.”

His eyes flicker to you again, but you’re already looking back at him.

“I don’t.”

And when the night is new, I’ll be looking at the moon…but I’ll be seeing you…

It’s quiet now, and you’re unsure of where the Apollonian ensemble disappeared to but instead of worrying about if they’ll make it back before curfew, you stand there in front of Luke with your guard down.

Getting a little closer than he expected, your noses brush before you pull the slightly crushed wildflowers from your jean pocket, the only physical reminder you’ve kept from today, and tuck them into his jacket pocket, sitting right above his heart.

“Thank you.”

Luke doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until he feels your lips gently kiss the marred skin on his right cheek, the blemish having an uncanny resemblance to a stroke of lightning; it serves as a reminder of his weakness. The lines blur as his eyes close to savor it and he doesn’t know if weakness is your kisses or his scar—but he is vulnerable to it all the same, realizing there’s a crack in the otherwise perfect persona that he’s worked so hard on. When his eyes open again, his Achilles’ heel has taken human form.

—

“This has got to be cheating,” Clarisse grumbles as she watches from the distance, hidden behind the trees.

“It’s not cheating if I’m winning. Silena’s gonna get a kick out of this,” Lee chuckles, ushering everyone back towards the cabins. It’s a bit harder to do this in the dark as they try to be quiet and not interrupt whatever will happen next between their favorite counselors.

“Well lucky for you, your gifts are cute and romantic, what am I supposed to do? They fight enough!”

“That’s what got them into this mess in the first place. Come on, curfew’s in 10. We’ll find out which of us wins the bet soon enough,” Chris mutters, pushing them along back onto the main path.

“Easy for you to say, Rodriguez, you live with Luke!”

“Would I ever lie to you, La Rue?” he says with a mischievous grin, and the Apollo kids giggle at the irony.

—

“My body ages,

my anger burns into a seam.

I am so annoyed by love

and still it comes.”

-Kate Baer

ask to be added to luke/general taglists!

luke taglist (some won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?): @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko @bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303 @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r @visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri @number-onekidqueen @bradynoonswife @stevenknightmarc @hoodedhavok @happy-mushrooms @homebyeleven @anotherblackreader @too-deviant @liviessun @lilacspider @theadventuresofanartist @sucker4seresin @simpforsunwoo @zanzie @starrystormwritings

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x dionysus!reader #luke castellan x reader fanfic #pjo x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan fluff #made by ma1dita ♥︎#trouble!verse #thank you for reading my love ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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quack-quack-snacks · 4 months

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Drowning Without You By My Side

My Navigation and Masterlist

My Sweet Home Masterlist

My Cha Hyun-su Masterlist

Pairing(s): Cha Hyun-su x Fem!Reader Summary: Ever since losing everything, you felt like you were drowning. Trying to end it all wasn't successful when an unknown and unnatural force was hell-bent on stopping you, but when a near-death experience - unintended this time - causes you to tempt Death's grasp, you finally meet the force keeping you bound to the world. Warnings: Season 2 spoilers (slightly)! Slight panic attack, drowning, explicit detail of attempted suicide on the reader's part (The National Suicide and Crisis Hotline is 988. There are so many people who care about you and would love to help you. You are not alone), cutting and bleeding (during the roll calls), Ah-yi being too cute for her own good, and Hyun-su being a fond little cinnamon roll and a great big brother (even if it's only for a scene), no use of (y/n). Word Count: 6,163

Pt 2: Floating Above Those Dark Skies :)

Hyun-su!

You woke up with a start, sweat slickening your skin and causing the slightly ripped t-shirt to stick to your back. It was designed with a band of which you'd never heard the likes of before the apocalypse started. Your breathing was quickened intensely and you wiped your hands over your face, pushing your palms into your eye sockets as you fruitlessly tried to calm your heart rate. It took several minutes of doing every method you knew to stop a panic attack before you were finally able to take a deep breath without it stuttering in your lungs. You swung your legs over the edge of the hammock you had designated as your bed since you first arrived at the stadium all those months ago. To know that you hadn’t seen the boy you once called home in over half a year was a hard pill to swallow. You hated yourself for letting him go.

Hated that you didn’t try harder to follow after him.

Hated that you let the group force you onto the truck with them and head to the safety camp.

It was a never-ending cycle of self-loathing since you’d arrived at the stadium. When you’d found the secret exit leading out of the stuffy concrete walls you were trapped in, you found yourself leaving whenever possible. You couldn't handle the pitiful stares of your fellow Green Home survivors and the eyes of the citizens in the stadium who disliked the woman that protected the “murderer” of the chief’s husband. Although Eun-yoo and you did not really have any sort of relationship in terms of friendship, you had an unspoken agreement to protect and stand up for each other. If not each other, you had no one. The people you each had viewed as the closest to you of anyone had gone missing or even passed on to the next life. You both refused to admit that last thought out loud, though.

Every morning, you would wake up and attend the morning roll call before getting dressed and leaving for the day until you returned just in time for the evening roll call.

Today would be no different.

You dropped your bare feet onto the frigid concrete floor and walked towards the bathroom, suppressing a shiver. The entrance to the bathroom had been taken off after an incident inside of the stadium. It involved none other than yourself and the elder brother of one of the boys who bullied Yeong-su when the two of you got into a fight. You can remember the exact words he had spoken to you after you talked to him about the boy’s behavior.

“The little shit deserves it. Being the little brother of a murderer and the devil’s advocate,” he’d said, referring to Eun-yu and yourself. “I hope he ends up becoming a monster. I even hope I’ll be the one to have the honor of killing him.”

You remember punching him square in the nose as soon as the words left his mouth. He’d flown backward and slammed into the bathroom door, successfully knocking it off the hinges and breaking the flimsy wood in half. You were positively seething at the absolute audacity the man had. Not being satisfied with how he’d fallen, you jumped on top of him and started pounding your fist into his face. You hit him over and over again, undeterred by the few hits he managed to get in, until you were pulled off of him. You started thrashing around violently when you felt hands wrapping around you to pull you off of him until you realized it was Park Chan-young, the young soldier who had been an alibi and friend to you and the rest of the Green Home survivors since you’d first gotten on that truck. A small crowd had gathered around after hearing the commotion and yells coming from the two of you before they all parted to allow Chief Ji in. When she saw you, her confused stare deepened to a glare but she ignored you in favor of transporting the brother you had just fought to the medical room. That was a hell of a day.

The inside of the bathroom was a regular locker room. Not surprising considering it was originally used for the players of the baseball team. The only difference was one of the walls was poorly rebuilt with rocks and bricks by Chief Ji and some of the stadium's residents after it was impacted by the missiles.

Before you had started heading over to the bathroom, you had grabbed your small compact bag of hygiene supplies and brought it with you. Although toothpaste was hard to come by and you had to share the rations the soldiers found with your neighbors, you were able to find some on one of your days out. You brushed your teeth dry, not wanting to use any of the limited water on something like brushing your teeth. This had become something you were used to.

Finally returning to your sleeping space, you didn’t bother changing out of the clothes you slept in and just decided to continue wearing them. The outfit was comfortable yet simple: a pair of oversized off-white sweatpants you had to manually make a drawstring for using a shoestring, and a short-sleeved dark blue shirt. Your shoes were the same ones you wore the first day this monsterization started. They were originally a pristine white you had tried your hardest not to taint, but now they were stained beyond repair from your adventures. You consider yourself lucky you had only bought them a week before the outbreak. They held up well throughout the year you’d spent with them as your sole pair of shoes.

The morning announcement calling for roll call sounded through the silent air of the little enclosed unit you were lucky enough to be given.

Although luck may not have been the true cause. So many people were reluctant to be near you when they slept and complained enough times to the chief that she eventually just set you apart from the rest. Although it was lonely at times, you were thankful for the shred of privacy you had been granted.

Once your shoes had been put on along with your sweater, you calmly walked down the hall toward the place where your assigned group met for roll calls. You arrived just in time to see Yeong-su slap away Jin-ok’s hand when she tried to pull him back from a soldier who was grinning meanly at him. You could see the built-up tears in the boy’s eyes that he desperately was trying to push away and rushed forward. Seeing the reasoning behind his tears, despite the consequences that you knew would ensue, you roughly pushed against the soldier’s back which sent him tumbling forward and his face met the ground floor with a sickening sound. You risked a glance to look back at Yeong-su and Jin-ok. Yeong-su’s arm was bleeding rapidly, seeming obvious that the soldier who cut him too deeply hit an artery. Hopefully, it wasn't a major one. The boy’s lip was quivering as he held back his tears. You could see all the emotions in his eyes: anger, frustration, helplessness, but mainly relief. Relief from you coming in to defend him. You quickly sent a look to Jin-ok and she immediately knew what you meant. She gently took Yeong-su’s hand and this time he didn’t resist as she led them both away from the scene and to their living quarters.

You barely had time to let out a relieved smile before a fist was sent flying into your left cheek, sending your head snapping to the right and you falling back, only barely and painfully catching yourself with your elbows. You looked up at your assailant to see the officer who was tormenting Yeong-su standing above you. His nose was bleeding heavily and if you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought he was beginning the transition period to a monster. He wiped at his nose to no avail and sent you a heavy glare. He leaned down and roughly grabbed your arm, hauling you to your feet and pulling out his knife. You held eye contact even when the blade roughly slashed across your forearm, right over an already existing cut. You praised yourself internally on how you kept your face entirely neutral and how the soldier looked angry and disappointed at your lack of reaction.

You gave him a slight smirk as you held up your bleeding arm for his view, the blood gushing down and covering your bruised elbow. “Happy?” You questioned tauntingly and your smirk grew as you saw the man seething. Despite his intimidating height, you couldn’t help but think he looked like a cartoon character with the way you were sure steam would be bursting out of his ears at any second. When he made no further move to continue the fight, you swiftly turned around and walked out of the room, smiling when you heard him yell in frustration and throw something to the floor. The knife, you presumed.

You didn’t bother visiting the doctor to help you treat your wounds as you wrapped a strap of clothing around it and called it a day. Any respect you had for him instantly flew down the drain when you caught him drinking the rubbing alcohol meant for treating wounds and acting immaturely all the time. You walked in the direction of the exit, making sure to not be spotted by any soldiers as you did. When you finally got there and pushed the door open, you let out a breath of relief. The moment you stepped out the door and into the clean air of the outdoors, you felt yourself relax a little more than before. You found it odd how you felt more relaxed outside of the safe haven the stadium provided but you couldn’t help yourself. In the outdoors, you felt free. You could think without hindrance and allow yourself to feel an emotion that wasn't complete and utter despair.

The ground crunched below your feet as you walked across the gravel towards the green grass fields. You had no objective or destination in mind for today, you just wanted to escape the oppressive hands of your 'superiors.'

Walking on light feet, still making sure to keep your head focused on the area around you in case a monster appeared, you found yourself standing in front of a building. There was nothing special about this building. Half of it wasn't even attached as it lay broken in shambles around the structure. The ladder leading to the roof was rusted and had some of the metal bars sticking out awkwardly. The building in total was relatively normal and in good shape compared to those around it.

The only special thing about this building was the memories that it spurred within your head.

You climbed up the ladder, tears blocking your vision as they collected on your waterline despite your deepest efforts. You lost everyone. You lost Hyun-su; the boy you called home; the boy you called your soulmate; the boy you loved more than anyone or anything else. You lost Ji-su, the girl you decided you could call your best friend after spending so much time with her on the first floor of Green Home for those days at the beginning of this mess. You even lost Su-yeong, the little girl you’d grown so protective over… gone without a second thought. You never truly had Eun-yu so it wouldn’t hurt as much whether or not she had died. The only person you truly felt you had left was Yeong-su. You hated yourself for doing this to him but only having him wasn’t enough to stay anymore.

You felt like you were drowning. You were unable to handle the constant feeling of your emotions overpowering you. You’d heard so many times that it got easier as time went on but you never thought you would be able to overcome this. Although it might have been fitting to end your life by drowning, you just wanted a quick and painless death.

Falling solved that for you.

When you finally climbed the ladder to the roof of the building, you couldn’t help the sobs that wracked your body. You hopped up onto the edge of the building and looked up. The sky seemed to perfectly oppose how you were feeling. Soft, puffy white clouds were fluttering through the atmosphere and forming different shapes you could just barely make out. The tears slipped down the side of your face as you tried to gain some sort of peace before you followed through with your decision.

The wind was a gentle, cool breeze across your damp cheeks as you stood and glanced across the beautiful terrain below you. The grass had just barely begun to grow out of its perfect and well-maintained state, but it was still a wonderful sight to see. There were flower gardens surrounding the tall building, some crushed brutally by the falling of the walls but most were left perfectly untouched and thriving in the new world. The sight made your body calm down, the tears cascading waterfalls of sorrow down your cheeks slowly coming to a stop. You’ve heard of the acceptance of death people have when they know they’re about to die. You’d never thought you would have to face that kind of acceptance, never really thought the way you’d die would be because the world had been cruel and gave you too much pain for you to handle. You never thought that yet there you were.

There you were, standing on the edge of the tallest building you could find, one foot raised and hovering over the edge and you giving one last smile to the world before having your other foot join it.

The wind screamed in your ears and you swear you could hear voices within it. Voices calling your name. Voices that sounded too similar to one you’d lost. You let your eyes fall shut as memories flashed through your mind. Memories of reading to Su-yeong and Yeong-su; memories of playing the guitar and singing with Ji-su, laughter interrupting each word because you couldn’t take yourselves seriously; memories of Hyun-su.

Memories of shaking his hand when you first met him after he moved in across the hall from you in Green Home.

Memories of him coming to you crying for the first time and confessing how he couldn’t stand being alive anymore.

Memories of losing yourself in his eyes when he smiled at you.

Memories of his touch against your cheeks when he leaned in to leave a kiss against your forehead.

Memories of him.

A single tear drop fell from your eye and you smiled at the thought of meeting him again, whether that be in your next life or the one that comes after death. There was no doubt in your mind that he was gone, and that thought alone was more than half of your reasons for wanting to end it all.

Just as you were sure you were about to hit the bottom, a strong yet lean arm wrapped around your body and gently set you down on the ground before retreating just as quickly as it had appeared. You shot your eyes open only to be left with the blue sky above you and the intense wind that breezed over your body as whatever it was that saved you disappeared. For a few moments, you couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t move, couldn’t blink, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything except stare in perplexment at the sky. As you sat up, you still couldn’t think straight and allowed your body to work on autopilot as it walked you home.

It took a full week until you were finally able to come to terms with the fact that either you had imagined the whole thing or something - someone - had saved you.

A month after your first attempt, you tried again. You couldn’t handle the stares of disdain and hatred towards you after you had defended Eun-yu as others criticized her about her apparent murder of Chief Ji’s husband. Yet, just like the last time, you were saved miraculously last minute by that same strange force.

You tried a dozen more times, all ending with the same result. It was so frustrating and you could barely handle the pain knowing you couldn’t even control your death, let alone your life.

The tears streamed down your face violently as you knelt and smacked your fists angrily against the wet, coarse dirt of where you were, once again, gently placed down after another failed attempt to end your life. The shredded noose hung limp around your neck and you ripped it off aggressively. You let out an agonizing scream from the deepest part of your lungs and it ended with more sobs as you let yourself fall onto your side with your knees pulled into your chest. Your loud sobs slowly quieted down but the tears never stopped falling. You stood up from the wet ground, your hair and clothes both stained by the mud below. Water rained down from the heavens, soaking your shirt and making it cling to your chest. Your tears blurred with the raindrops that splashed against you and slowly made their way down your face, disappearing down your neck and into the collar of your shirt.

“Why are you doing this?” You yelled into the open air, receiving no answer. “Why? Why do you keep doing this? Why won’t you just let me die?” You choked on a sob at that last question and yet you still received no answer. Defeated, you decided to retreat back to the stadium and get cleaned up. When you returned, Jin-ok was the first to notice the bruising around your neck and your tired, puffy eyes. When she asked, you played dumb but you could tell she saw right through you. Luckily, she left it alone.

You ended up curled up in your hammock for hours as you sobbed your heart out.

Although the stadium might have been a better place to follow through with your plan, you refused to put your few remaining friends - if you could even really call them that - through that. Put them through the pain of seeing your dead body and knowing they might have been able to stop it. Even though you would be dead by then, you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself. The only way you would allow yourself to follow through was outside of the stadium.

But a certain someone, or something, wouldn’t allow that to happen.

That was the last time you tried to end your life.

You’d had many dangerous encounters since then but every time they would be cleared out by your guardian angel before you could even really call them a threat. It got to the point where you felt more safe outside the stadium compared to within its concrete walls.

Sighing, you averted your eyes from the building and walked around it, focusing instead on the plants that were just starting to bloom in the early spring. The breeze was a welcome chill that rose goosebumps along your arms. As you continued to walk, your mind blank and your feet destinationless as you wandered, you came across a large pool of water.

And a girl.

She was young, and couldn’t have been more than 5 years old. It was such a shock to see her there, especially all by herself, that you didn’t realize she was sinking until it was almost too late. Without a second of hesitation, you jumped right into the lake and swam as fast as you could towards her. Grabbing a hold of her hand, you pulled her along as you swam back up to the surface. You dragged her towards the edge of the earth where the stable ground met the water and laid her down. Lowering your head to her mouth, you tried to listen to her breathing but instead, you got a headbutt to the ear. She shot up and started coughing up water. You ignored how your ear stung at that moment and instead rubbed along her back while she breathed heavily.

“Are you okay?” You asked her and she suddenly snapped her head towards you, like she didn’t recognize your presence until you spoke.

Slowly, she nodded. “Yes,” she hesitated before quietly asking, “Did you save me?”

You smiled at her shy mannerisms as she played with the hem of her wet and dirtied dress. “Yeah, I did.”

She looked up at you, almost surprised with your confession, and gave you a shy smile back. “Thank you,” she whispered before averting her eyes again.

You couldn’t stop the smile growing even brighter on your face at her adorableness. You looked around, seeing nobody else in sight. Your eyebrows furrowed as you began to worry about who she was and why nobody was taking care of her. “Are you alo-”

Just as you started to speak, a wet and slimy tentacle-like appendage wrapped itself around your torso and yanked you back into the lake. You thrashed around but couldn’t unravel yourself from the monster’s grip. You saw your knife float away and sink further down the dark abyss that was the bottom of the lake. With it, the last of your newfound hope to live followed. Just as you lost the last of the reserved air in your lungs, a sudden figure dove into the water and wrapped its arm around you. Just before your eyes fluttered shut, you swore you saw the blurry face of the same boy who haunted your dreams. The boy who haunted your nightmares.

The same boy who haunted your mind as you stuttered between the line separating life and death after surrendering to the lack of oxygen.

“Hyun-su!”

You screamed as you saw the military take him away. You lay helplessly against the side of the crumbling Green Home building as the pain of moving around too much from your wounds caused you to be dead-weight in your spot.

He let out a scream of agony that ended with your name and you felt your heart shatter. He was surrounded by multiple people; doctors, scientists, and soldiers alike. Each person’s face was surrounded by a strange darkness. The only thing you could make out of their faces were their evil, wide smiles, and their eyes tainted a demonic red. The sight made you feel even more helpless and despair-ridden than before.

You could do nothing but watch as the love of your life was taken from you without a second thought.

Hyun-su gathered you in his human-form arm while the other, extended in his monstrous form, swung back and forth through the water to slice at the monstrous being that dared to harm you. He didn’t waste much more time under the water to fight the beast as he noticed your eyes had slipped shut and you weren’t releasing any more air bubbles. He surged upwards, his wing doing most of the work as he darted through the surface of the water and onto the solid ground near the same little girl you had saved before.

Lying you down on the ground gently, he lowered his head to your mouth to hear if you were breathing, cursing quietly when he realized you weren’t. It was at times like these that he thanked whatever deity existed that he allowed himself to be persuaded by his parents to be a lifeguard for a summer. That way, he learned and was certified in CPR.

Plugging your nose, he administered two breaths into your mouth before pressing his - now both fully human - hands to your chest. Just as he prepared for the first chest compression, you suddenly started coughing and turned onto your side as you continued to cough up the water from your lungs. He was so thankful there wasn’t enough water in your lungs that he would’ve had to break your ribs giving you CPR.

But he would choose broken ribs over a body that wasn’t breathing any day.

After coughing your lungs dry, you fell onto your back with your eyes closed as you took many deep breaths. Suddenly, you remembered the face you clearly remember saving you and shot up into a sitting position, your eyes wide and surprised. Your gaze immediately fell upon him.

Hyun-su.

You held your breath as your eyes met and you stared at each other for a few moments. Your hand hesitantly raised to reach out for him. His gaze didn’t stray from your own as you brought your hand to his face, a mix between a sigh and a sob leaving your throat as you felt the soft skin of his cheek touch your fingertips. He was wet and cold, but he was alive. A smile grew onto your face but it dropped just as Hyun-su’s began to form. You yanked your hand away as if his skin suddenly burned you, and it might as well have. You could see the hurt expression taking over his face but the feeling of the anger, betrayal, and grief flooding through your veins overpowered any feelings of remorse you might have felt. Taking a quick moment to look around for the child you saved, you let out a small sigh of relief when you saw her innocently watching the interaction between you and Hyun-su, breathing normally and sitting safe and sound on the grass.

“Take care of her for me, will you?” You asked him coldly, not waiting for an answer as you stood up and started speed walking in the opposite direction.

“No, wa- wait!” He scrambled to stand up, calling after you as you ignored his advances. “Stop!” He finally caught up to you and wrapped his hand around your bicep gently, turning you around to face him.

“What? What the fuck is so important that you finally feel the need to talk to me?” You let out a sob of a laugh as you ripped your arm away from him. You could slowly see the realization of why you were acting so angry and upset dawn on his face as guilt settled into his eyes. “You’ve gone this entire time being just fine as you save my life just to leave me there, alone, time and time again. So please - please - explain to me what is now so important you feel the need to reveal yourself to me.”

You looked at him expectantly as his mouth opened and closed, looking for an answer. He seemed to find it as he finally said, “I just… I really thought you died this time. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You looked at him, frustrated, for a moment before harshly scrubbing your palms over your eyes which were tearing up against your will. “So… what, after all the times you saved me, now you want to check on my safety?” Taking a deep breath, you forced your face to look calm, masking your anger for his sake so you could get out of this situation with as little hindrance as possible. You dropped your hands to your sides, your tears smeared across your face leaving it in a shiny glow. “Well thank you, Hyun-su, for your consideration,” you spoke the last word with bitterness lacing your tone that you could tell he caught as he winced softly. “But I am fine.”

You turned around, fully intent on heading back to the stadium when his hand wrapped around your bicep again. “What?” You asked angrily and turned around only to be pulled into a tight hug. You didn’t waste time in fighting his grip but he was relentless. “Let me go!” You screamed at him, although it was muffled by his shirt. “You’re such an asshole! I fucking mourned for you! I built a fucking memorial and brought a flower every single week without fail and yet you were never fucking dead! Why did you keep letting me think you were dead?” You were now pounding your fists into his chest, no longer resisting his embrace but expressing the built-up anger, sadness, grief, and self-loathing you felt every single day. It all stemmed solely from the way you hated yourself for not trying harder to save him. Not trying harder to resist Eun-hyuk when he told you and Eun-yu he would bring him back. “Was it you? Was it you every time I was stopped? Every time I was in danger, it was you who saved me, wasn’t it? What gave you the fucking right?” The crying started again. In turn, your hits became less and less powerful with each strike along with your screams gradually quieting. “Why did you have to leave me?” You sobbed out and let your head fall onto his chest as he buried his face in your hair. Your hands clutched onto his t-shirt as if trying to anchor him to you, scared that if you let him go, he would disappear again. Your knees gave out, exhausted by the emotional turmoil washing over you from the last five minutes. And so soon after death caressed you on the cheek too. Hyun-su caught you and slowly lowered the two of you to the ground, never once breaking the embrace.

You sat in silence, only broken by the sound of your sobs as they slowly subsided. When you settled down, you spoke once more.

“Did you know I was in love with you?” You didn’t feel any physical reaction from him that would express what he was feeling in that moment so you continued. “I never stopped. Loving you, I mean. I don’t think I ever will, but god, I hate you so much right now.”

There were a few silent beats where the only sound you could hear was the sound of his heartbeat against your ear until he spoke.

“I didn’t think I would be able to handle seeing you again and find you with this exact reaction. By the time I left the military’s grasp, I tried to find you but then I saw you on that ledge.”

It surprised you and calmed your nerves all the same.

“I knew I was just being a coward but I thought too much time had passed for me to just show up. Today was just a bit different.” He leaned back a bit to look at you and you did the same. He gave a small smile when he saw you again, with your wet eyes and glistening cheeks you looked wonderful. Even after sobbing your heart out, you were still the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. “My love, I’ve loved you since the first moment I saw you, and I never stopped either,” he leaned in slowly so your foreheads rested against each other and your noses brushed. “And if you need time to stop hating me, I’ll wait as long as it takes.”

You looked into his radiating brown eyes as the last tear slipped from your own before bringing a hand up to cup his cheek once again. You let out a small laugh which he returned with an adoring smile. Leaning in, you pressed your lips against his in a soft, unhurried kiss. He slid a hand up from where it was pulling you into his embrace to rest against the back of your neck as he held you against him. When the both of you were smiling too much to continue the kiss, you leaned back just enough to stare into each other’s eyes. The adoration and love you had for each other would be clear for anyone to see from the way you gazed at each other.

You suddenly pushed forward and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close and hugging him once more. He sat still for a moment as he processed what you did only to wrap his arms around your waist. He hugged you just as tight and with just as much desperation as you did.

“God, I missed you so much,” you whispered into his ear and he sighed shakily into the spot where his face was buried in your neck.

“I missed you too, so much. I’m so sorry for not coming back sooner.”

“Well, you’re here now, and that’s all that matters to me,” you reassured him and he physically relaxed, his shoulders untensing and him falling further into your embrace.

The sound of the soft pattering of footsteps interrupted the moment you two were sharing. However, it was entirely welcome when you saw the little girl you had saved before standing beside you. You pulled away from Hyun-su, but not too far as he grabbed onto one of your hands. You smiled at him slightly, he was obviously just as starved of your touch as you were his.

“Hi there,” you told her gently when you turned back to her, not wanting to scare her in any way. “What’s your name?”

She looked down shyly, not answering until Hyun-su reached out to her with his hand. “It’s okay, she’s a good one,” he reassured her as he brushed some stray wet strands of her pin-straight black hair out of her face when her small hands were unable to. He took her hand and gently pulled her closer to the two of you. It made you smile as you saw them interact. The caring and soft way Hyun-su acted with her reminded you so much of a father interacting with his daughter.

It just made you love him even more.

He gave her one more nod of reassurance before she timidly introduced herself.

“M-my name is Ah-yi,” she stuttered out and you silently cooed at her adorable little shy smile. “Thank you for saving me, Miss.”

“Of course, Ah-yi, you are very welcome,” you gave her your own smile and some of her shyness seemed to fade away. You then gave her your name and she visibly brightened up.

“You’re the princess!” You gave her a confused smile with a small laugh as she then began to explain. “Oppa’s told me stories about you! How you’re the princess of the big green castle and how he was a knight in shining armor who was saved by you, the warrior princess!” She talked animatedly with her hands swinging around wildly and her chest puffing out at the end to make her seem stronger. Your lips formed a big smile as you looked over at Hyun-su to see him lightly glaring at Ah-yi with a big blush coating his cheeks.

“Ah, so you’ve told stories about me, have you?” You teased him and he looked at you before rolling his eyes.

“Shut up,” he mumbled and you yelped as he yanked on your hand, sending you falling onto his chest with a loud laugh.

You talked a bit more with Ah-yi, somehow ending with her laying her head in your lap as you leaned against Hyun-su with your back to his chest. The three of you watched the clouds, pointing out any shapes you could find and making up stories that Ah-yi seemed to love. Every time you looked over at Hyun-su, you could see all of his attention focused on you and how you interacted with the small child.

Time seemed to fly as eventually, the sun started to fade into the distance, only leaving splotches of light shining through the leaves of the tall trees surrounding you. All three of you stood up and you glanced in the direction of the stadium with sad eyes. You couldn’t stand the thought of leaving Hyun-su yet. Even the thought of leaving the small girl you had grown strongly attached to in the past few hours broke your heart. Hyun-su seemed to sense your hesitation as he grabbed your hand.

You looked back at him and he looked at you so fondly you felt like your heart might burst. With his thumb gently caressing your knuckles, he looked you in the eyes and said, “Stay. Stay with me. With us. You don’t have to go yet.”

He seemed just as desperate to make up for lost time with you as you were with him. His eyes widened and that smile you loved so dearly formed on his face when you nodded with little thought put into the decision. Pulling you closer with his arm circling your shoulders and one of yours circling his waist while the other hand reached out for Ah-yi to grab. She practically leaped at the opportunity.

“You ready, princess?” Hyun-su asked you in a soft teasing voice and you looked up at him with the same passionate smile gracing your lips.

“Lead the way, my shining knight.”

~~~

Pt 2: Floating Above Those Dark Skies :)

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minisugakoobies · 4 months

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BTS Holiday Fics

Tis the season… to reblog all of my holiday fics since I don't have any new ones this year 🙈 Thought it'd be better to put them all into one list rather than rb one by one. Happy holidays! 🎁

❄️ = fluff, 🍾 = smut

Kim Namjoon:

Christmas Confession - ❄️ 🍾, 2.9k - You’re Namjoon’s Secret Santa and you’ve got the perfect gift.

Happy Accidents - ❄️, 2.2k - Sometimes your clumsiness leads to a happy accident.

Kim Seokjin:

All I Don't Want for Christmas is You! - ❄️ 🍾, 23.7k - The holidays are here! But instead of celebrating, you’re trapped in a town called Christmas with your office nemesis, Seokjin Motherfucking Kim, and an unruly band of clients. Can you survive the trip and secure the promotion your boss has promised? Or will Jin take you down?

Min Yoongi:

I Wanna Hold Your Hand - ❄️, 1.4k - It’s hand-holding season, according to your roommate.

Party Vibes - 🍾, 5.8k - Yoongi’s hoping you can keep him entertained at this year’s office holiday party

Jung Hoseok:

After the Party - ❄️ 🍾, >1k - After the party, Hoseok’s not done celebrating you.

Third Time's the Charm - ❄️, 2.1k - After two close encounters with your brother’s best friend, Hoseok, you decide the third time’s the charm.

Park Jimin: see the 12 Lays of Kinkmas below

Kim Taehyung:

Next Christmas - ❄️, 1.1k - Taehyung’s trying to help you get ready for this Christmas, but you’re already thinking of the next.

Jeon Jungkook:

Mugs & Kisses - ❄️, 6k - Jungkook has something he’d like to tell you, but he can’t find the words. So he’s thought of another way.

New Year, New You - ❄️ 🍾, 1.8k - New year, new you. Except here you are, minutes after midnight, already falling back into old habits. You just can’t resist.

Multiple/OT7:

Teamwork - MYG, KTH - 🍾, 1.7k - It’s supposed to be a New Year’s Eve party, but your friends have turned it into an eligible bachelor contest. What are you supposed to do when you’re caught between two men?

12 Lays of Kinkmas - ❄️ 🍾 - 12 fics written based on individual smut prompts (each fic has its own pairings, genres, ratings, summaries & warnings)

Happy Hour - Hyung line - 🍾 (suggestive), 2.9k - You’re home for the holidays, hungover as fuck, and can’t remember what you did last night. Luckily, your little brother Jungkook and his friends Taehyung and Jimin are all too happy to remind you!

Happy Hour 2: The Hyungs Strike Back - Hyung line - 🍾 (suggestive), 4.4k - While back home for another holiday, your brother Jungkook and his friends convince you to go late night bowling with them. Surely this won’t end as badly as the last time you went out, right?

Main Masterlist

#bts smut #bts fluff #bts fanfic #bts x reader #jungkook smut #taehyung smut #jimin smut #hoseok smut #namjoon smut #seokjin smut

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lgbtpopcult · 4 months

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What cool WLW projects do we know are coming in 2024?

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Drive-Away Dolls

Arguably the most important representation of the year comes from a movie directed by one of the Coen brothers. Ethan Coen directs this wacky comedy that is very much in style for him.

Synopsis:

This comedy caper follows Jamie, an uninhibited free spirit bemoaning yet another breakup with a girlfriend, and her demure friend Marian who desperately needs to loosen up. In search of a fresh start, the two embark on an impromptu road trip to Tallahassee, but things quickly go awry when they cross paths with a group of inept criminals along the way.

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Lost Records: Bloom and Rage

A game had to be added to this list and here it is, the best one. From the creators who gave us Life is strange. Lost Records: Bloom and Rage tells the story of four friends who experience a transformative summer in 1995. After 27 years of no contact, Nora, Swann, Autumn, and Kat are reunited by fate and forced to confront the long-buried secret that made them agree to never speak again all those years ago. From the teaser alone it is obvious at least two of them dated.

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Pluto

A Thai gl from GMMTV, known for its successful Thai dramas. The story is the telenovela cliche we've always wanted. Two girls in love. One gets in an accident and her twin takes her place to find out who was behind her accident, the other girl is blind. The twin has to fake being the real one so has to be in a relationship with the blind girl and of course falls in love with her. Match made in fanfic heaven.

The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo

It was announced so long ago people are getting frustrated. However, with both a writer and a director now attached to the project, and the strikes over, we have every reason to believe we will finally get to see the hit novel, that centers the love story between two closeted Hollywood actresses, come to life. Whether you loved the novel or were indifferent and didn't see what the fuss was about, it is a very successful wlw romance and we want to see it on screen!

The Paying Guests

The director that brought us Carol adapting a book by the author of Fingersmith? Yes please!

Speaking to Indiewire, Haynes revealed he’s developing an adaptation of Sarah Waters’ 2014 novel The Paying Guests. “It’s a three-part limited series that would need to be a British production, but it’s a really great novel.” Set in post-WWI London, the drama is part lesbian love story and part murder mystery following a down-and-out widow and her daughter, the latter taking up a relationship with one of their lodgers. Waters also wrote Fingersmith, which was adapted into The Handmaiden by Park Chan-wook.

NCIS Hawaii season 3

One of our favorite pairings of last year, Kate and Lucy are the main couple of their show and they carry it well. They look good together, have progress and evolution in their relationship and have fun working together.

The Secret of Us

Thai channel CH3 is expected to hit us strong with this Thai gl. CH3 is big in Thailand so this one is a big deal. The story is the typical exes meet again trope and it's magnificent. It centers Doctor Fahlada, nicknamed Doctor Angel. She is trying to hide the pain after being abandoned by the woman she loved. But then...by chance that woman comes back into her life.

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Whisper Me a Love Song

Our resident anime entry has to be Whisper me a love song. Based on a manga it is the story of Himari Kino. On the first day of entering high school, Himari Kino "falls" for her senior, Yori Asanagi, whom she watched singing with a band at the welcome party for new students. When Himari confesses her admiration to Yori, Yori misinterprets Himari's feelings as romantic love. However, before Yori realizes, she comes to fall for Himari anyway, and promises to win her affections for real.

Bad Sisters season 2

Bad Sisters is one of the best reviewed and hilarious shows on this list. Coming back for a season 2 was inevitable. Bibi, the lesbian sister, will keep entertaining us in 2024.

Station 19 season 7

One of the most enduring shows and wlw couples on TV are coming back for a season 7! That is a lot of seasons but Maya and Carina do still have that spark.

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About Galaxy The Series

Part of the gl renaissance that is expected to go full force next year, this series is already hugely popular among Asian romance fans.

Synopsis:

‘About Galaxy’ is based on author Zezeho’s yuri of the same name, with a Thai title of “มูลค่าดาวล้านดวง”. The story revolves around Hong Yok, a designer who has a big scar on her face which led her to hide away from the public due to her inferiority complex. But something changed in her life when she met Note, a woman she was measuring clothes, and realized she is the same person who gave her that huge scar! However, despite the incident, she doesn’t outright despise her, and instead… feels safe. What will happen to the two women?

My Ex-Friend's Wedding

Kay Cannon ("Blockers") will direct from a script co-written by Taylor Jenkins Reid? Staring a group of friends trying to stop their friend from getting married? And one of them is queer? We're all in!

Arcane (Season 2)

It seems like forever since we first watched Arcane but we're definitely looking forward to season 2. Needs no introduction.

Dream the Series

We already have enough Asian dramas in this list but we couldn't leave out one of the most anticipated gl, Dream. The story is that of a woman that sees a girl in her dreams every night only to meet her in real life. While in real life they are friends in her dreams they do much more. She thinks her friend doesn't know about that what she doesn't know is that she also remembers everything they do in their dreams.

Harley Quinn the Animated Series season 5

Another season of our favorite criminal duo Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy? Yes please and thank you. These two, and this particular iteration of them, might be the best representation American television has ever given us.

Chaser Game W

Chaser Game W is the first gl produced by TV Tokyo so it has a historic significance for the advancement of representation for queer women in Japan. First episode airs January 8. Based on manga series "Chaser Game" written by Hiroshi Matsuyama & illustrated by Yukitaro Matsuyama

The story:

synopsis: Itsuki has been working in the "Dynamic Dream" game company for five years and is now appointed as the lead for a big Japanese-Chinese collaboration project, which she is fully motivated to work on. However, it turns out the Chinese company team is led by her ex, Fuyu, whom she one-sidedly broke up with back in university! After breaking up with Fuyu, Itsuki never dated anyone else and chose to focus on her work, all while not coming out to her family and coworkers... But when her ex-girlfriend suddenly appeared in front of her, her feelings immediately started to sway. Meanwhile, Fuyu always resented Itsuki for breaking up with her without saying why. She takes charge of the project and pushes impossible tasks onto Itsuki. While Fuyu plots her revenge, Itsuki is rekindling her unrequited love. What will the outcome be for these two opposites?

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Vigil season 2

The first couple of episodes of Vigil season 2 will technically be shown in December 2023 (in the UK only) but we'll basically be able to watch it beginning 2024 and we're looking forward to it!

Several upcoming TV shows and movies have cast actors that make it obvious they'll have lesbian and bi characters but until we know whether the representation will be enough to be worth watching we're holding off on making that other, more elaborate, list.

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pancakesandpessimism · 1 year

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Luz is the character of all time, I swear to Titan

She starts the series off canonically weak, at least from a physical standpoint, but by the time the season one finale hits she pretty much solos storming a prison. And not only does she make it out of this incredibly dangerous situation alive, but despite probably having to fight through a lot of guards to reach Eda, there are only two people in that entire building who she isn’t able to immediately mop the floor with.

What's more, look at the state they’re in after she’s done with them!

Casual reminder that she did this back when she only had four spells at her disposal, only three of which were combative!

And despite this clear badassery, she isn’t OP or the strongest character in the series, barring temporary titanification. Heck, she isn’t even the strongest member of her immediate friend group! Pretty much all of her big fights (Ex. Grom, Belos rounds 1 & 2, the Abomiton in EE, heck any of her fights aside from the Stonesleeper in EaE) she either lost or needed someone’s help to finish/simply survive.

And yet she managed to trick a man who mastered manipulation centuries before she was even born, twice, and became the champion of a god.

But also she once got a magic cold that made her think she had snake arms.

Her adoptive mom is a proud criminal who introduced the son she’d been raising for 8 years as her roommate, and is in love with a nonbinary rebel leader/band geek. Her birth mother is a trekkie who once beat up a flat earther with a flip-flop while she and her snake-sister watched. Said sister spent months stealing her identity, and once mispelled her name in a letter to her mother.

She met god, and he was wearing sweatpants. Her little brother is the son of god, and accidentally predicted her death in a one-off joke before almost getting them both crushed to death by a snappily dressed lizard later that day.

She meets her first real friend, who is one of the most powerful witches in the entire series, and less than an hour later they’re sneaking her into school so said friend can cheat on a project.

Her second real friend, who is also one of the most powerful witches in the series and a massive human nerd, took out a Coven Head by accident while having a breakdown, and she had to hear about the whole thing second hand.

She shot her future found brother/trauma buddy off of an airship, then saved his life less than an hour later. They speedran the ‘enemies to friends to siblings’ pipeline but with 10x the trauma, and were both murdered by the same centuries-old puritan witch hunter.

She challenged her future girlfriend to a duel before she knew how to use a combative spell, and both of their teachers made them unintentionally cheat. Said future girlfriend also kissed her on the cheek, and she still spent a whole day freaking out about how to ask her crush on a date before said crush beat her to it seconds before she got the question out.

She has some of the coolest moments in the entire series. One of her most heartbreaking scenes takes place under the tree she and her girlfriend made when they defeated a nightmare monster with the Power of Love™. She considered going to prom in an otter onesie.

For 99% of the series, she’s at her most powerful when armed with nothing but a (most likely pickpocketed) notepad and a pack of crayons.

What a character.

#toh #the owl house #toh spoilers #kinda?#are we still tagging things as spoilers?#Ah well have the tag anyways #Luz Noceda #I love her so much #eda clawthorne #king clawthorne #camila noceda #Willow Park #gus porter #Hunter toh #toh Hunter #vee noceda #lumity #luz and hunter are siblings #Luz and Vee are siblings

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froggoon · 1 month

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⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡

I’ll love you in every multiverse I Five Hargreeves x Reader

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Post Apocalypse Au! ( Yes Im writing another one ) WC: 1,791

Summary: The Umbrella’s can understand jumping through time and all its rules, yeah fuck with the timeline and it’ll fuck you right back. But what happens when a portal opens up in the middle of the academy and outfalls a girl who claims to be Five’s wife from a different universe.

Disclaimer: This takes place after season one if Viktor didn’t blow up the moon. ⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡

The Umbrella Academy had saved the world from its supposed end. The siblings had lounged around the academy slowly letting reality set that they had avoided their demise. It was the next morning when each of them woke up to check their surroundings, making sure that doomsday wasn’t there.

Five went downstairs for his morning coffee when he saw Allison scrolling for flights on her phone and Klaus checking where was the next place he could buy drugs.

“Leaving so soon?” He questioned.

Allison looked up at him although happy to see her brother, guilty because he was right.

“I have to go see my daughter. After everything that has happened I need her now just as much as she needs me.”

Five nodded his head, understanding where she was coming from, although a little irked she wasn’t wasting any time running away.

At this time a portal had opened above the living room. The rest of the siblings (Luther, Viktor, Diego) had rushed down to see what the loud noise was. It was like Deja Vu when Five came back. In the portal, they could see a fight happening. Figures that had looked like them in a place that looked like their home. A woman’s back came close to the portal, they could see she was in combat but stood observing. Another man who they couldn’t identify, had pushed the woman through the portal.

A girl who looked to be in her early twenties had fallen through. Her face was covered in soot, her hair black as night, and her eyes closed in pain. She was wearing a navy body suit that clung to her figure, and blood, not her own, stained the fabric.

The Hargreeves gathered around to observe this strange phenomenon trying to assess the danger of the situation. They were used to people going after them, so why would this time be different.

You coughed loudly before sitting up, and each sibling tensed with adrenaline. The girl looked around the room with blazing blue eyes before she landed on the youngest Hargreeves.

“Five?” you questioned.

Everyone turned to look at Five.

Luther spoke up first, “You know her?”

“I have never met her in my life.” Five retorted.

The girl dusted off her suit before standing. “Well if you never met me, you either will meet me or I’m dead in this universe.”

“The names y/n , y/n Hargreeves.”

“I don’t remember our father adopting anyone else,” Diego said. He raised his knives, carefully ready to strike at any move she would make.

“That’s because I wasn’t adopted into this family. Married actually.” And with this, she held up her left hand, a beautiful diamond ring shone in the light with a gold band beneath it. The diamond was embellished with 2 smaller emeralds on the side, perhaps representing her lover’s eyes.

“Married? To who.” Viktor questioned.

“To him.” She looked back at Five.

“Well not to him, an alternate version of him. We met a few years ago and got married, thus me joining his chaotic family.”

“So what are you saying you guys are married in a different timeline?” Klaus asked.

“No, not a different timeline, a different universe.” She sat down on the couch.

Your brain felt like it was rattling against your skull, and your body ached. You took a minute to think. Fuck, it was going to be difficult to get back to your Earth. And to make things better you had no idea where to start.

“Alright before you all start firing questions at me, someone get me a cup of coffee, black please.” You threw a jacket that hung over the couch on you to hide the state of your clothes. "Allow me," The alternate of your husband said. Five quickly blinked the two of you into the car and began to drive. "So you and I, are married in another multiverse."

"Correct." "You look to be about my age, how come I haven't met you yet here." Surerly he would remember someone as beautiful as you. "Well it's as I said, my version here could be dead or you might not have met her yet. That being said although 18 out of the 20 multiverses I have visited, we are together." "And the other two?" "In Earth 216, we are strangers, never have crossed paths, and never will. We simply live our lives with other people." Five's eyebrows furrowed. For some reason even if he didn't know Daisy, he didn't like the idea of you with someone else. "In Earth 894, we were madly in love but our egos destroyed us, and we were never the same since." Five could tell there was more to that story but didn't press any further. "So tell me about us, how did we end up together." "I was Diego's friend first, he and I met in the police force. Diego kinda took me under his wing as I was the youngest graduate out of the academy. Perks of having a high IQ. Anyway, he invited me over after your father's funeral. " "Long story short, you fell in love with my charms and I was the only one who could tolerate you. We got married not too long after. It was a small wedding but it's my most precious memory. Our families had gathered together at the church no too far away from here. You cried on our wedding day by the way." Inciting a side glare from Five.

"But...that's where we had some problems." "Do you remember when I fell out of that portal?" Five nodded his head remembering seeing a fight in the alternate dimension. "Well, apparently some of the 43 are not too happy about their powers, nor happy about living among the common people, they believed themselves superior and it became chaos." The two of you arrived at Griddys. Five walked over to the side of your door and opened it for you. "Thank you, darling." You said with a smile. Five's heart spiked at the nickname. He shook his head at the feeling, obviously, it's just what you were used to calling YOUR Five. The two of you sat at the counter and ordered your coffees and sweets. You signed before pulling out a small stack of photos from inside your suit. "This is us and your family." The photo was a picture of you and Five on your wedding day. Five had never looked so happy. Beside him was Luther who he assumed was his best man, next to him was Viktor, Diego, and a man who looked like you. You must have caught his staring, "That's my brother Damien." He nodded and looked beside you. You were wearing a long white dress with intricate lacing, the dress was strapless with a square neckline and had a small slit on the side. Your veil was flipped over your head and flowed down your back. Beside you was Allison as your maid of honor and two other women who he assumed were your friends. You weren't looking at the camera but at him. The next picture you gave him was a close-up of the two of you. You were the one taking the photo. His alternate self was older and had longer hair and facial hair, but he faced your side kissing your cheek affectionately. "This is my favorite photo of you." You handed him another photograph but this one didn't have you in it. This one was a picture of just Five and in his arms a little girl. She looked like you. Five gulped, a million questions ran through his head. Could this... could this have been his future if he didn't make that stupid jump? You said that not all multiverses are the same, you and him could never meet in this one. But that didn't stop his heart from hurting at the thought of missing out on a life of happiness because of his arrogance. "Before you jump to conclusions, she's not ours. She's my niece that we were babysitting. You just looked so sweet with her. You had always told me you wanted kids before but I wasn't ready." You had looked away sadly. In your home, Five always wanted to settle down and raise a family of his own, but you felt like you weren't ready. Now you regretted not because you weren't sure if you would ever be able to get back home. The two of you sat in silence drinking your coffee, both thinking about the what-ifs. "So...how did you end up here. I've been able to time travel but I've never thought about the possibility of multi-dimensional traveling." "As I said there was a fight between us, your family, and some of the 43. They called themselves the Ascendants. Believe to be the superior race." You took a deep breath before continuing. "The Ascendants had a man who could travel the multiverse with his own power, no special gear or machine need. We had planned to capture him but miscalculated. He was ready for us and he aimed to take out me, his biggest threat."

You took another breath before looking into Five's eyes. "I can warp reality. It is essentially in the name. I can manipulate reality itself, altering the fabric of existence according to my will." "But not without a cost," you continued. "Each time I control something, and the bigger it is, the more of my life force I use." Five sat in silence. This was a lot of information to take in. "So what now. How do I help you get back home." "I have...no clue. You were always the smarter one of the two of us." You sighed. It was going to take a lot of research and time to figure it out. "Well, I'm newly retired and have nothing on my plate so let's start at the library come on." He hopped off the stool and made his way to the door. "You coming?" He said turning to look at you. You smiled, he was a great man. Even if this Five wasn't your husband you loved him no matter what. You ran up looping your arm in his making your way out of Griddy's. ⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚

Author's note: I got tons of drafts just full of ideas I've had and never gone through with. I've been rewatching the MCU films and Spiderverse so that was kinda my inspiration for this one. If you like my work check out my other Five stories here! I also always appreciate comments and feedback! It definitely keeps me going. She's my Angel Pt1. Shes my Angel Pt2.

#five x reader #five hargreaves #five hargreeves #the umbrella academy #umbrella acedmy #aidan gallagher #five #five hargreeves x you #five x y/n #five hargreeves x reader #tua #tua x reader #tua fanfic #tua five #five x you #number five #five hagreeves x y/n

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turtleybeachin · 9 months

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Okay I have finally thought of an ask! Not sure if you remember me or not but that's okay. It kinda has to do with the summoning through pacts. I was wondering if you could write something along the lines of an MC who is usually calm, but a MC having a panic attack or is just scared and accidentally summons a brother? I'd like to request all of the brothers or even the dateables but I don't want to ask that much. Do whoever you want with this ask if you do it at all! ❤️❤️

Hi I totally remember you and never forgot this but got way too in my own head about it. I think I crawled back out now. Thanks for being patient with me. ♥ So first of all, I love the concept of accidentally summoning someone to you. Sure, the actual summoning spell is great, but the idea of panic-summoning and maybe not even fully intentionally? Amazing. I started writing how they'd comfort you but got too in my head trying to do everyone (and not feel like i was rehashing Burnout), so I have a few that are spawning future updates to Burnout (for the new side characters), and then some one-offs I'll share as I finish them as well. But! Here are some thoughts I had on alternative summonings when upset.

Characters: Everyone! :) and a GN!MC (reader) Rating: G Word Count: ~2.3k Tagging: references to MC struggling mentally/emotionally, some fluffy affection, mostly a think piece on unintended summoning. Spoiler warnings for OG game, most notably for end of season 2, a bit of season 3, and vaguely part of season 4. Nothing too big, but there nonetheless.

Lucifer's Ring of Light is a perfect fidget piece. Spinning it around your finger, rubbing your thumb along the band, pressing on the edges of the stones to let the dull pinch ground you. It's always there on your finger, always present, always twinkling in the corner of your eye as a reminder you aren't alone. It is not his any longer, but that doesn't mean he isn't still aware of it, that a little piece of him isn't still present in a little piece of its inherent magic. And when you're spinning it and digging it into your palm and distressed, he feels an echo of that pain. It pulls him to you. Perhaps, in your own way, you're admitting you need his presence, his strength, his help, and he is not about to start abandoning his loved ones now.

With Mammon's keychain of that chocolate lizard, your thumb knew all the grooves, the smooth spots and the rough ones, the little spot where paint was chipped away that you knew you shouldn't pick at but it just happened anyway, your nail catching on the rough edge. You fidget with it when anxious because you know Mammon used to fidget with it just the same, and isn't that comforting, to know that even a powerful ancient fallen angel would run his thumb along the very same ridges you do? It's almost like you can still feel the warmth of his touch there. And you can't really think your First Man ain't gonna know you as well as he knows himself, can you? That he doesn't know when you need him, when you're tuggin' on the pact like that?

Leviathan's script he gave you? You've memorized it by now. In times when everything is spiraling, you remember your favorite lines, the ones that remind you to stay strong. You recite them to yourself between shaking breaths. Because when you can't be strong and cool and calm yourself, sometimes it helps to put yourselves in the shoes of Henry, the shoes of the Romantic Lead, the shoes of the characters written to always have a happy ending. It is, you realize, the same way Levi puts himself in the shoes of the Lord of Shadows, wrapping the cool-clever-badass-strong cloak around him as an armor. There's no Lord of Shadows without his Henry, and there's no you without him. And just like how in book six, the Lord of Shadows gets accidentally bound to Henry with a spell and is able to feel when Henry's in need and the Lord of Shadows leaves his lair without knowing where he's really going just knowing that he's needed and he ends up following this magical instinctive pull to find Henry and get to him just in time to save him from his enemies who were-- ...well, let's just say that Levi won't leave you to fight your mind alone for long.

Satan wasn't wrong that cats are perfect for calming the emotional storm inside you. They're good little listeners, and their company is a great distraction from the voices in your head. Watching the little fuzzballs roll around, or nap in a sunbeam, or prowl through the grass, it distracts you from all the frustration and anxiety and worries. Whether it's watching neighborhood cats, or visiting a cafe, or popping into a shelter, you've taken to Satan's favorite hack for handling your wayward emotions. On the really bad days, it's nice to know you can vent and cry to them and they won't judge you or tell anyone your secrets. But did you forget, MC, the stories about cats that traverse the realms? They won't ever tell anyone, but they might wander from you to their favorite place in the Devildom and they might headbutt a certain blond demon's shin and chirp for him to follow them. They are, after all, very good listeners. And so is he.

With Asmodeus, you look at the photos of him on your phone, at your selfies together and how big you smiled beside him. You blink away burning tears to focus on how he looks not at the camera but at you, his body angled not to show his best side (which is every side of course) but to press always closer to you, and how no matter where you two were or what was happening your smiles were always so bright and genuine with him. When everything feels like too much and not worth it and you feel trapped and cornered by situations beyond your control, you find yourself clutching your phone and swiping through hundreds of pictures of laughter and kisses and hugs and twirls and snuggles and you whisper a promise that one day, soon, we'll be together again. Sooner than you expect, of course, because did you really think that he wouldn't feel your burning need for him across realms, hon?

Beelzebub just has to be comfort food, our precious glutton. When life without your demons is getting you down, it's the salty snacks, the sweet treats, the tubs of ice cream with the chunks of something extra to dig for like buried treasure. And whenever you indulge, you can't help but think of your gentle giant and what he'd have to say about everything. He'd be happy you're eating, of course, and then what would he think of your human world snacks? Which makes you think of your favorite Devildom snacks, and that just hits you with a fresh wave of homesickness. But somewhere out there, a realm away, one particular Avatar just gets this feeling, you know? Like the way he knows when Belphie is craving quetzalcoatl brains, or is napping in the garden. Just that instinct. And his instinct is telling him you need your favorite cupcakes. Surely Lucifer will understand how vital it is he takes these three dozen cupcakes to the human world right now. And if he doesn't, well, that argument with his brother can wait until after your craving is satisfied.

Belphegor of course is our star-gazing boy, and while you like the idea of looking into the sky to seek out any possible shared stars to look at with him, you can't always see the stars at night everywhere, and the human realm has day and night cycles that hide them for at least half the day anyhow. For Belphie, you have a pillow from him (that he either gifted or didn't complain about your stealing) that you keep with you -- not for sleeping, but for comfort. A pillow to smother your tears on the rough nights, a pillow to pummel on your frustrated days. A pillow you curl around and snuggle for a memory of contact now distant. And when you drift off in those fitful sleeps of exhaustion, you wander in your dreams to another dream unknowingly. He's with you when you rest, and the moment he can get away from Lucifer's watchful gaze, he'll be there to tug the pillow out of your arms to crawl into your embrace himself.

With Diavolo, well, he knows things. Usually it's because of Barbatos, or Lucifer, or his familiars, but you? MC, you're so much more precious than the 'usual'. If asked by anyone who doesn't know him well enough to call him out, he'd say the charm he placed on you was simply for matters of Devildom security-- after all, you know possibly too much, and that could make you a target to the wrong people! (Barbatos politely does not point out that it's because he misses you so much and wants to see what you're doing.) It's not that he wants to intrude on your life or anything, it's important you have the chance to be as wonderfully human as you are, but he just worries. Are you alright? Are you comfortable? You'd mentioned once the extravagance of the brothers' lifestyle, do you have enough income? The charm is just a minor thing, a little thing, just to make sure you're well. And when you aren't? Well, paperwork and meetings will wait.

With Barbatos, he's just such a badass god-like time lord, we don't even need a pact to be connected to him. You had brought up the idea of a pact once, and he had just given you that dangerous smirk and demurred that it wasn't so much a pact you desired, surely, as his company and his attention, both of which were already yours. It seemed like such a smooth line at the time, but you didn't realize the extent of it. How you're a bright twinkling point on every timeline for him, how you are the center of every universe he knows, how he orients himself in any reality by looking to you. So when something is wrong, when you're falling apart or in danger, it's like the spiderweb crackling of a timeline splitting. Like an itch at the back of his throat, an ache behind his eyes. The choices are to let you suffer alone, or to teleport himself to your side and help you through. Do you even have to wonder which option he chooses?

Simeon may have a complicated relationship with his blessing and his celestial light, with his place and his purpose, but one thing has never felt complicated: you. Every baked good he ever made for you was made with pure love, and every gift he bestowed -- from a little sheep plush sewn by hand to earrings made from his own feathers -- had all of his hopes and wishes and prayers for you inside them. Maybe that's why squeezing the soft little plush fills you with such warmth and comfort, and why the brush of the feather against your neck feels like a kiss. When you're struggling and upset, the gifts from Simeon make you feel grounded just a little more. And perhaps it's a prayer answered for him, too, that he just has a feeling when it's time to go visit you.

Solomon has been watching out for you longer than you know. It started in the little ways, simple defensive spells and barriers to protect you, reminding demons who looked a little too closely at you who precisely he was and what he could do. It graduated to teaching you to defend yourself, and gifting you various magical trinkets and charms to help focus and direct your growing magics. You still don't really know all the ways that he keeps an eye on you. But he does. Nothing is more important than you. When one of his spells alerts him that you're upset or in distress, well. He just so happened to be in the neighborhood, MC, and what a lucky coincidence that is!

Luke is such a literal perfect little angel baby. One who gave you his blessing, to protect you even when he can't. Everyone teases him for being so young, but he knows that you are the one human he wants to guide and shelter and protect. And sure, when he gave his blessing, it was under the assumption you might need protection from demons or fae, from magic and shadow. But that doesn't mean his blessing doesn't also guide and protect you in times of need that aren't external, MC. When you're at your lowest and feeling completely alone, he feels the pull, feels your pain, and what sort of guardian angel would he be if he left you alone?

Mephistopheles you don't have a pact with (yet?), but imagine your magic ripping open a portal to him without your conscious intent when you're feeling small and lonely and just so badly miss him and want him with you. Maybe you think of him because of the kindness he has shown himself capable of; maybe you think of him because you know he's the least likely person to tell the brothers or anyone else about you having a meltdown. And he's startled and confused when this portal opens before him, the magic somewhat familiar but certainly not demonic, and he warily steps through half-expecting some idiotic prank of one of the brothers only to find you curled up and small and fragile and all of his complaints and questions can wait. After all, clearly you can't even manage your own magic right now, so someone has to keep you from causing trouble.

With Thirteen, it's the little conversation crystal that she gifted you during The Three Worlds' Fair. Perhaps you turned it into a pendant, or perhaps it's just always in your bag or pocket, kept close as a charm for good luck and reminder of the fact you aren't alone. You don't think it would actually work across realms but still hold it tightly and whisper your frustrations or fears or doubts into it just to get things off your chest. But between your magic and hers, it does still connect, and she does hear your outbursts. And at first she just lets it happen, quietly charmed and amused you would use her gift as a secret diary. But when you're really struggling? Well. Reapers are meant to move between realms, you know. There's nowhere she won't go for you.

And Raphael is not an angel to be summoned on the whim of some human. But he is incredibly observant (even if he sometimes doesn't 'read a room' well). He is the one who reads between your lines more than you expected, more than you intended, more perhaps than you want. He sees the tension you hold, the dark circles under your eyes, the way your smiles are just a little slow and empty; he hears the silences where he expects to hear laughter or humming or conversation. And he nearly ignores it, because it's not his business, and you have plenty of other devoted fans already flocking to you, but then he realizes that in those moments you don't. In your pain, you are alone, and that is the most jarring observation of them all. So perhaps it is up to him to correct this cosmic error, and be the one to support the human who supports everyone else.

I hope you still enjoy, even if it's not exactly what you had in mind! ♥ and when i get around to the other little things this spawned, i'll tag you if you'd like.

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tommysversion · 11 months

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Beastly: Raider Era Joel Miller x Reader (Part 1)

Summary: you live in a small commune protected by a strong force of raiders. Every season, your people pay tribute for their protection. After lapsing in payment, your abusive father offers you as a human sacrifice. What you don't expect is for the leader of the gang, Joel, to not be as much of a beastly man as first thought.

A Raider Era Joel fic, loosely inspired by Beauty & The Beast.

CWs: references to abuse (physical), implied fear of SA, canon typical violence, implied age gap, sexual references, coarse language, smut for later chapters. (List will update with chapters)

Chapter Word Count: 3k

Thanks to @gab-thelamb-onthemoon & @joelsgirl for being beta readers & allowing me to infodump about this idea, ILY

Index: Part 2

It’s amazing, how long it took society to peak, in comparison to how easily it fell apart. Rome wasn’t built in a day, but it sure burned in one. In a short fifteen years, since Cordyceps first spread globally, society has all but collapsed.

Oh, sure, there are the QZs, where FEDRA rules with an iron fist. There are smaller settlements where people try to strive for a semblance of ‘normality’.

But mostly? The world outside the military strict QZs has become lawless. It’s kill or be killed, serve or rule, protect or intimidate.

Whereas some people have banded together for the greater good of humanity, for the continued survival of the species? Others have taken advantage of the new order of things, are only out for themselves and those they hold dear.

Joel Miller falls into the latter category.

Maybe once, before the outbreak, he had been a good man. Had had a strong moral compass, a good ethic. He’d been a family man, loved his daughter and his brother more than anything or anyone in the world.

Then the world had gone to hell, taken his daughter from him, and something inside him had broken. It was as though a light had gone out inside him, turning his humanity off.

Gone was the man who had made jokes and smiled easily. In his place was a man scarred and traumatised, who was capable of enormous acts of violence and brutality, who would survive at any and all cost, not for his sake, not really, but for his brother. The only family he had left.

Joel had always been a natural leader, if somewhat reluctant. It had come easily to him, before the outbreak. He was always the damn union rep on site. Always the one people came to for advice, looked to for leadership. Not just Tommy, or colleagues he’d known for years either. He always ended up with an apprentice following him round like a chained puppy, asking questions, looking for guidance.

Maybe it shouldn’t be a surprise at all that he had ended up the leader of this band of people, either. Some were misfits, those who were too anxious to try and venture to the nearest QZ and survive under FEDRA. Some were miscreants who preferred the more lawless lifestyle, who needed a leader so they didn’t venture into abject cruelty. Then there were those like him, who just wanted to survive. Keep going for whatever or whoever they had left.

Joel didn’t necessarily want to live, but he was fucking good at it.

Without his humanity, it made him a damn good leader. His group protected several small settlements, in exchange for supplies. Weapons. Whatever the fuck they wanted.

It was a good deal… for his people. The infected didn’t venture this far out anymore, but the good people in those settlements didn’t need to know that, did they? Their living in fear was his bonus. It kept them in line, and it kept his people alive.

Recently, one of the settlements fell to disease. Leaving just the one small community under his group’s thumb. The occupants aren’t particularly tough, or particularly smart, just ordinary people who have had the luck to survive behind moderately well constructed walls, the wits to bow to those stronger than them for protection.

Only, their resources are running out, spread thin with the approaching winter…

Which is where you come in.

You’re old enough to remember the world before. Maybe you hadn’t been an adult, so you hadn’t had to deal with things the older folks in your community grumble on occasion about missing - work, taxes (mostly something called a tax return), good liquor, supermarkets…

But you do remember.

You remember the world changing overnight. Remember years of struggling, clawing for survival, until this commune had finally put its walls up and hoped for the best.

Then the infected had come, and you’d lost half your numbers. The raiders had taken advantage of the weakness in your people, taken out the infected… for a price.

Now each quarter, your people paid ‘tribute’ to the group of men and women who kept the infected at bay. Really, it was a bribe to keep them from taking over your settlement. Every three months the same half dozen men would show up, fill their truck with supplies and weapons your people had gathered, desperately needed, and promise another three months protection for it.

Nobody’s been attacked since the deal was struck. You guess that’s a good thing. Or there’s something they aren’t telling you.

Your father is the closest thing to a mayor your community has. There aren’t enough of you to need a proper governing body beyond a handful of people, but somehow the task of leadership has fallen to him. Perhaps because nobody else wants to be labeled as the one who bows to the raiders. Or maybe it’s because the last mayor your town had was beaten to death by said raiders for non-compliance, and your father was the only one brave (stupid) enough to volunteer for the job after.

You aren’t stupid. You know a bribe for what it is. Only this quarter, you aren’t sure what the plan is.

The crop yield has been relatively scarce this season. With winter approaching, the settlement doesn’t have much to offer. You’re not stupid, but you know it won’t be enough.

Usually, you stay home when the raiders come for their tribute. Stay inside with the few children of the commune.

This time is different. Your father is lacing his boots, throwing on his threadbare coat, when he springs it on you.

“You’re coming too, this time. We need to show our numbers.”

It doesn’t occur to you until you’re halfway to what passes as the town square that that’s the precise opposite of what your father usually says. That a show of strength is what got his predecessor killed. But you know better than to question him; he won’t shout at you, he’ll just be condescending, or more likely, won’t answer you at all.

You suppose your curiosity will have to wait, and hope he doesn’t get you all killed.

Joel usually sends half a dozen of his people to collect the tribute from the settlement they ‘protect’. It’s a thinly veiled intimidation, closer to extortion than anything else, but it keeps his people fed and lets them bully others, which some of his people need.

But the last two seasons, their offerings have been slim at best, pissing the most restless of his people off. Joel has no issue with violence. No issue with killing people, or intimidation. But he also knows that starting a bloodbath in their supply settlement is a stupid idea, even if some of his men don’t.

Which has led him to here. Two men sit in the truck, shoulder to shoulder. One sits in the tray, gripping the roof bar with one hand, a rifle dangling lazily from the other.

Two others ride beside him, a little behind, in an arrow formation. It didn’t bother Owen to stay behind with the rest of the group. There’s better things he could be doing. If anyone was surprised at Joel deciding to go with them on this run? He hasn’t heard a word of it.

If anything, they probably think it means he’s planning some sort of punishment for their friends in the settlement. Hell, if they don’t pay up? He’s not against it.

It never ceases to amaze him just how pathetic these people are. He hasn’t visited the settlement personally in a year or so, but the occupants are still just as miserable. Just as downtrodden and fearful, hiding behind their shitty tin walls and the hope that his folks will protect them. It’s that fear that keeps his people fed, keeps these townspeople in line.

They don’t need to know that there are so few infected out here now, that Joel and his group are probably the biggest - if not only – threat remaining to them. Fear keeps them in line, and if they step out of line? Well, he and his gang aren’t above beating a reminder into them. It’s happened before.

The truck rolls to a stop behind him as they make their way to the centre of the settlement. He dismounts his horse, steps forward to greet the leader of the place. He’s met this man once before, the season after he took out the old mayor for trying to defy him. Beating a man to death isn’t pleasant to witness, but Joel had no problem with committing the act.

His replacement is a small, round man who always wears the same threadbare overcoat, the same twitchy air of nervousness around him, the same oily obedience.

How a man like that became what passes for mayor, Joel has no idea. He’s just as spineless as the rest, just as cowardly, eager to snivel and beg for protection, offering up whatever it takes to save his own skin. It’s a way to live, Joel supposes, but he would never stoop so low.

“Morris.” Joel greets the other man with a cold nod of his head, reaches out a gloved hand for him to shake. All formality. All pleasantries. As if the six men he’s brought with him aren’t capable of gunning down this entire settlement, if he so chooses. Hell, he could probably do it by himself.

“I’m surprised to see you.” Morris admits as he steps forward from the small group of townsfolk. Joel’s gaze sweeps over them all; a few new faces, his eyes boring into each unfamiliar one. One bears a resemblance to the mayor. Interesting.

His gaze leaves the crowd, returns to the man in front of him.

“We need to have a little chat.”

“You don’t say a word. Nobody will benefit from your attempts at being a diplomat.” Your father cautions you as you reach the centre of town. It’s not a long walk. The settlement is barely big enough to call a commune, but still.

You don’t dignify him with an answer, just nod. There’s no point in trying to argue with him, try and prove that you’re an asset. He’s too set in his ways, too firm in the belief that women – especially young ones- should be seen and not heard.

So instead you keep your mouth shut, take your place. Watch the convoy come in. It’s different, being out on the street rather than peeking out a window when they roll in.

The usual truck, two men in the cab, one in the tray, slapping the roof to signal to stop. You’re not familiar enough with their faces, but you assume they’re the same men who come every quarter. Two men on horses, flanking a third.

It’s the third man who interests you, only slightly. Mostly because of the way your father tenses, the way some of the others shift nervously. You vaguely recognise this man; the leader of the group of raiders. The one who had no problem with violence, with getting rid of the old mayor when he didn’t want to play ball.

He’s older, maybe late forties, broad shouldered and has a sort of deadened glint to his dark eyes. Vaguely, you catch yourself wondering what he did, or what happened to him, to put that look in his gaze.

Those cold dark eyes take stock of the place, sweep across each member of your community. His gaze pauses on you, very briefly, flickers to your father then back, recognition. Then he looks away, back to your father.

“We need to have a little chat,” the unknown man says, “your quota has been low, Morris.”

Even in the cold, you can see your father start to sweat. He’s no great hero; his leadership perches precariously on his willingness to bow to whatever this gang of raiders wants. There’s no way of fighting them, and quite frankly? There are worse things out there.

“We’ve had a hard few seasons… Maybe we can make it up in spring?” Your father suggests, trying to sound complacent, apologetic. Mostly, it just sounds desperate.

You wonder if the leader of the gang thinks so, too.

“Now, Morris, you’re already short. Have been for the last two seasons. Maybe if we’d had this little chat earlier, I’d be more inclined to accept the request, but, well… winter’s on its way. It’s hard out there, and these walls you have are so flimsy… anything could happen.”

Your father’s face blanches, clearly aware he’s stepping on toes that shouldn’t be stepped on.

“We have… some supplies in reserve. You can take from there.”

It shouldn’t even surprise you, that he offers up the town’s emergency stockpile to save his own skin, probably thinking of his predecessor. It bothers you, though, makes your skin crawl to see the men from the gang open the barn where the supplies are kept, start hauling them into the back of the truck. Those supplies are for emergencies. For the children, the elderly, the sick. Maybe that’s why you open your mouth.

“Those supplies are for our elderly. Our children.”

The look your father gives you is piercing, promising violence, a sharp retribution later, but you don’t care.

“Excuse my daughter, Joel. She doesn’t understand the way things work, likes to talk when the men are talking.”

You expect the gang leader – Joel – to agree, to ignore you. Instead, he turns that depthless gaze onto you.

“What would you have me do, hm? We have a deal, you know that.” It’s unspoken what he’s implying – he has people relying on him, too.

You’re smart enough to know that it’s a rhetorical question.

“Besides.” Joel turns his attention to the truck, shakes his head. “Even with your stockpile, you’re short. Considerably so. Maybe we should stick around. See why your productivity is so low.”

The threat is implicit. Maybe it’s the threat. Maybe it’s anger at you for speaking out. Or maybe it’s the simple fact that your father is a piece of shit. Still, you don’t expect what happens next.

Joel doesn’t want to stick around this small town, with its cowed population and snivelling misogynist of a mayor. He’d rather take what they are owed and go, but they’re up short once again. Not by much, but it’s the principle of the matter. Of making sure Morris knows his place, knows that he and Joel are in no way equals.

He projects the very image of an alpha male, broad and cocky, one hand resting on the pistol at his hip. Casually threatening, and he knows Morris is thinking of the idiot before him. Maybe he should just shoot him, see whether someone smarter replaces him. Smarter and less irritating.

Maybe the other man can see how easily he’s contemplating his death.

“Wait. Wait. I have another offer.”

Joel raises an eyebrow.

“And what could you possibly have, Morris? As you’ve said, you’ve had a difficult harvest, you’ve had to break into your emergency supplies. What do you possibly have to trade to save your own skin?” He makes zero effort to hide his disgust.

“Her.” Morris jerks a shaky thumb to the younger woman beside him, the one who’s clearly his daughter, the one who spoke up.

Joel is so startled by the suggestion that he almost outright refuses.

“What?” It comes out blunter than he planned, as if he’s misheard. Because there’s no way that this idiot is offering up his own daughter as some sort of human sacrifice.

“Take her. I don’t care what you do with her, she’s a complete disappointment. Maybe you can teach her some manners, beat her into submission, God knows I’ve tried. Take her and give us immunity until next fall. Let us rebuild our crops.”

Joel looks past Morris to you, small and nondescript. Then again, everyone is small to him. You look like someone’s just pulled the ground out from under you. Shocked. Horrified. He knows then what you’re thinking, what you’re assuming will happen to you. But he also knows now what happens to you if he leaves you here.

Joel Miller may have lost his humanity, but he was a father once. And he can’t imagine ever, ever offering his own child up as a human sacrifice to save his own skin.

And suddenly, it doesn’t matter about making a quota. What matters is getting you as far away from this place as possible. Away from sharp words and balled fists. Because somewhere, somewhere, buried deep down, a portion of the man he once was is stirring.

“The end of next fall. A year.” Joel agrees, tries not to watch the way Morris shoves you forward to what could well be your doom.

You’re shaking. Can’t even form a protest, for all the good it would do.

Sacrifice. Tribute. Offering. As if you’re no more than another object to be traded. Your father doesn’t even flinch as Joel seizes your wrist, pulls you towards his horse.

“Get on.” His voice is low, but not menacing. If anything he sounds almost sorry. It has to be some sort of trap; you’re certain that when you’re back at their base camp, he’ll have no problem with cruelty, with putting his hands on you. Forcing you, if the mood takes him. Maybe it’s better to just do as he demands.

Shakily, you climb up onto the horse, sit awkward and uncomfortable, tensing when he swings himself up behind you, broad arms keeping you in place as he seizes the reins, gives a nod to his men, who finish loading up and pile back into the truck, onto their own horses.

He throws a final derisive look to your father. The man who sold you.

“One year, Morris. Better get your shit together.” Then he nudges the horse, and rides you both out of the only home you’ve known for years.

#my writing #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fic #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #raider joel #rue beastly

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mellowcherryblossomblaze · 4 months

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Trolls: Band Together TV Series (Idea) Part 2

NOTE: AGAIN, NONE OF THIS IS OFFICIAL, JUST SPECULATION. BUT IF ANYONE WANTS TO WRITE FANFICTION BASED ON THESE IDEAS, FEEL FREE TO DO SO.

Trolls: Family Harmony: Season 2

It's A Troll-A-Bration!: Poppy and Branch visit newlyweds Gristle and Bridget as they celebrate Troll-A-Bration. Viva tags along to prove she can put her fear of Bergens behind her, but struggles to keep her anxiety in check.

Physical Hair-apy: Floyd's hair has become weaker following his time in the diamond, so Synth and Smidge help him build his strength back up in the Hairnasium. But Floyd becomes frustrated with his lack of progress, worried he may never fully recover from his trauma.

Down The Creek: Branch is shocked to learn that Clay has formed a friendship with Creek, but reluctantly decides not to say anything. It is only when Clay gets a glimpse of Creek's true colors that he realizes the negative impact his 'friend' has on his little brother.

Cloud Pleaser: While visiting Bruce on Vacay Island, Branch learns that a vacationing Cloud Guy has been annoying his brother all week. So Branch bravely decides to keep Cloud Guy busy for the day so that Bruce can get some work done.

Fast-Friend Matching: John Dory enlists Poppy's help after realizing his prolonged time in the wilderness has hindered his ability to socialize with other Trolls. So Poppy sets him up on a series of 'fast-friend matches' to help him get back in the friend-making game.

Date Night: After realizing they've never had an official date together, Poppy and Branch try to have a romantic dinner alone, but they both keep getting distracted by other tasks and Trolls.

Queen For A Day: Poppy comes down with a bad cold, so Viva decides to take over her responsibilities as Queen until she's better. But she quickly realizes that keeping up with Poppy's daily activities is harder than it looks.

Vocal Range For Trollings: After learning that Floyd used to be a music instructor in Mount Rageous, Branch suggests that he take a job as a teacher for the younger Trollings.

Classical Clay: Clay becomes fascinated by the Classical Trolls' lifestyle, so he tries to hide his Pop tendencies and go full Classical to win their approval. But Demo eventually helps him see that the Classical Trolls have become more open-minded to other genres.

Check-In: Poppy is overjoyed to have a surprise reunion with DJ Suki after running into her and King Trollex at Bruce's restaurant. As DJ explains how her stay in Techno Reef has been, Poppy seeks Bruce's help when she worries that she and DJ have begun to grow apart.

Caved In: Stranded in the forest during a rainstorm, Branch and John Dory take shelter in a cave for the night. John Dory gets a glimpse of his little brother's survival skills, and Branch learns more about his older brother's past when he shares a story about their mother.

How Are You?: Poppy spends an entire day helping her friends with their problems, while unknowingly letting some of her own fears and insecurities slip out. Too caught up in work to notice, it isn't until her family intervenes that Poppy discovers that she's been ignoring her own feelings for longer than even she realized.

#trolls #trolls band together #trolls 3 #trolls fandom #queen poppy #branch #brozone #john dory #bruce #clay #floyd #viva #king gristle #bridget #king peppy

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uglyducklingofthe2000s · 11 months

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Lesser of Two Evils pt 2 - Charles Leclerc

Charles Leclerc x Toto Wolff’s daughter!reader , side pairing: Max Verstappen x Toto Wolff’s daughter!reader

Part 1 Part 3

Despite their night together after the Monaco race being “a redemption of skill” in y/n’s breathless words when Charles rolled off of her. Charles woke up alone with a note and small gift in her place.

From me to you. I’ll see you next time xxx

The gift was a gold ring with tiny footsteps indented into the gold band and only just fit on his little finger.

He willed himself that there’d be something more than a few comforting moments and admittedly amazing sex, which may have been what really perked up his mood from the devastating race.

But weeks passed, longer than y/n had ever gone without visiting her dad. Though Charles knows she’s alive, her Instagram activity gave that away but she has been enjoying girls trips, nights out and spending time with her dad when there’s breaks between the races.

Maybe he’s just noticing her absence more because of that night and he can’t shake her from his head. It’s like she climbed into his mind and took full time residence that night and now the only time he can keep her out the forefront of his mind is when he’s actually in the car going onto the track.

It’s almost the end of the season and Charles has seen some improvement throughout the year, but safe to say 2023 has knocked him down from his runner-up place in 2022.

Everyone is back in Monaco for a short break between Qatar and the US race. Perfect for Charles’ 26th birthday.

Charles is actually hitting the gym when he gets a notification of a story post for y/n (is he proud to have turned on the notifications specifically for her account? No. Will he turn them off? No) and when he sees it, a video of her on a yacht with Lewis who looks like he’s probably been annoyed by her for her own entertainment before this video.

The yacht is more than familiar and he knows it means one thing. She’s in Monaco.

---------

It was getting under Charles skin that he hadn’t seen her. So when he sees her at a restaurant waiting at the bar just looking at her phone, he takes the chance to strike.

“Y/n, I did not know you were in Monaco.” Charles states sliding into the seat next to her and definitely shocking her with his presence. But she immediately looks amused by his words.

“Really? So it was another verified Charles Leclerc who watched my story with Lewis yesterday?”

Caught out.

“Well...I did not know you would be here.” At least that is the truth.

“I see, well Max invited me to dinner and I felt inclined to accept...purely because my dad upset me.”

Ignoring his blood boiling over the fact she’s here waiting for Max, of all the drivers it had to be him, he focuses on the fact that Toto did something to upset her. Not that it’s unusual, even the headlines seem to know when the father and daughter have argued.

“What did he do that upset you?”

“He told me I couldn’t go on a date with Max.” Of course. But there’s a glint of amusement behind her eyes, the same trouble that he recognises from their last encounter. “I hate to interrupt your evening plans, but if you don’t have plans after your meal. Maybe I could come find you.”

“I have no plans after this so feel free.” Charles nods trying not to sound too eager but internally this is a win. A big win. She’s having dinner with Max, but she’s already planning on leaving him to spend the evening with Charles after that.

Max appears already looking annoyed at seeing y/n with Charles. But the two drivers acted nicely to each other.

---------

Y/n left with Max. But only 10 minutes after Charles watched her leave, his brothers and him left with him moving out then laughing when he finds y/n waiting across on the other side of where the valet pull cars up.

A smirk on her lips tells her that she probably saw Charles being irritated by the fact she actually walked out the door with Max.

“You didn’t think I’d leave without you did you?” Y/n teases while Charles opens the passenger door for her and waits for her to walk over. But she stops by him, the two dividing them but not enough for her to lean over and kiss either cheek in greeting. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.”

The drive to Charles apartment feels oddly familiar and with his superhuman ability to spot cameras directed at him. He does notice a few camera on them. No doubt there’ll be something about them being spotted together.

When they walk up to his apartment and are in quiet privacy.

“Why did you leave and just...not speak to me?”

“You didn’t speak to me either.” He definitely should’ve seen that card being played. Though she moves over and sighs taking his hand looking at the gold ring that contrasts his otherwise silver jewellery. There’s a smile lingering on her face before she moves away abruptly. “You’ve been busy, I didn’t want to intrude.”

“Next time don’t be so considerate.” Charles states maybe a little more harshly than he intended to. With y/n being such a hard person to read, Charles is understandably frustrated by her lack of commenting on anything that would maybe raise his hopes or give him anything to really be eager about this between them. “It’s nice getting to see you again.”

“Don’t lie. I know you’re mad.” Y/n sighs then tilting her head. “I know it feels like I’m playing some sort of game with you. It’s not like that.”

“Could you explain?”

“Charles, you know my reputation. I am...messy and even my own dad won’t have me around too often. This is fun, but I don’t want to become something for you to regret.” Y/n smiles softly as if she’s not breaking bad news. “Charles...”

“I wouldn’t regret anything.”

Aka, he’d be willing to take the risk of being hurt by her if there is also a chance of reward and if she’d just give him a chance.

“How about we just focus on the here and now? We can talk about other stuff another day.”

Sounds a hell of a lot like rejection.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc one shot #leclerc #f1 #formula1 #charles leclerc fanfic #fanfic

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 8 months

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Comet Donati [Chapter 8: Fool’s Gold]

Series Summary: Sex, drugs, boy bands. You are a kinda-therapist recruited (via nepotism) to help Comet Donati through a recent crisis. Things are casual with Aegon, very not-casual with Aemond. Loosely inspired by One Direction.

Chapter Warnings: Language, references to sexual content (+18), drugs, alcohol, smoking, Aemond being very horny for one person in particular, mental health struggles, pregnancy, bodily injury, illness, death, a Targaryen family reunion, the tragedy of a hammerhead shark.

Selected Chapter Quote: “Do you love him?”

Word count: 9.9k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @doingfondue @catalina-howard @randomdragonfires @myspotofcraziness @arcielee @fan-goddess @talesofoldandnew @marvelescvpe @tinykryptonitewerewolf @mariahossain @chainsawsangel @darkenchantress @not-a-glad-gladiator @gemini-mama @trifoliumviridi @herfantasyworldd @babyblue711 @namelesslosers @thelittleswanao3 @daenysx @moonlightfoxx @libroparaiso @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @mizfortuna @florent1s @heimtathurs @bhanclegane @poohxlove @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @heavenly1927 @mariahossain @echos-muses @padfooteyes @minttea07 @queenofshinigamis @juliavilu1 @amiraisgoingthruit @lauraneedstochill @wintrr13 @r0segard3n @seabasscevans @tsujifreya @helaenaluvr @hiraethrhapsody

Only 2 chapters left! 💜

“I could love you for more than a day,” you tell Aegon, smiling, drowsy, sipping you blush-pink Salty Dog at the rooftop bar in Kansas City. It’s June, tornado season: a clashing of contradictory air currents, quintessentially American destruction.

“Yeah?” he says, daylight spilling out of his gaps under the night sky: the gleam of string lights reflected in his cobalt eyes, the white of his teeth, the eternal-summer warmth of his voice.

“Yeah. Not on this planet, maybe. But on another, very similar planet.”

He clinks his glass against yours; grains of salt pop off the rims and land on the table like snow, like infinitesimal diamonds, carbon shaped by pressure and time and deadly heat into something cherished. The wind tears through his nearly shoulder-length blond hair. “To other planets, and other lifetimes, and other dimensions where we are all the least-damaged versions of ourselves.”

“Aegon,” you say, and you wait until he’s done downing his Salty Dog and is looking at you again. “Someone’s inability to love you has nothing to do with your merit to receive it. It’s about them, it’s not about you. And that’s especially true when it comes to parents. If your father can’t be there for you in the way that he should, that’s his deficit, not yours. He’s the one missing pieces of himself. He’s the one who has failed. You can’t use his inadequacy to measure your worth. You should be proud of yourself for succeeding in spite of him. You should be proud of the person you are.”

He’s spinning his empty glass between his palms, amused, perhaps somewhat anxious; he is afraid of the answer. “And what kind of person am I?” He waits for one of those familiar soulless tropes to resurface, the disaster playboy, the hot loser, the paradoxically remiss eldest brother, the addict, the slut, the comic relief.

You say instead, somehow knowing that it’s true: “A good one.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Takeoffs and landings, highways and streetlights, tarmacs that stretch into the hallways of five-star hotels. You order virgin drinks when no one else is around to hear you do it. You buy prenatal vitamins and stash them in an Advil bottle. You sneak off to see a doctor while Comet is in Boston; yes you’re pregnant, yes everything looks good so far, yes you need to stop eating sushi and lifting heavy luggage. You stay out of hot tubs. You try to dodge secondhand smoke. You follow the band from city to city like children hopping on couch cushions strewn across a floor they say is lava. And now: cold porcelain, too-bright lights, crumpled on the bathroom floor of your suite in the MGM Grand. Sin City, they call Las Vegas. Like it was made for you.

You hear the swipe of a keycard and approaching footsteps, clop clop clop. When he appears in the doorway, you moan and try shield your face with your hands. You finally got your splint off last week in San Diego. “Please go away. Please.”

Aegon doesn’t listen. He gapes at you, chomping noisily on cotton candy flavored Bubble Yum. You can smell it; the sickening sweetness twists through your guts. “Damn, Stargirl. You look terrible.”

“Thanks.” You retch unproductively into the toilet bowl; there’s nothing left in your stomach to rid yourself of.

He’s wearing khaki cargo shorts, a neon green tank top, and—eternally, faithfully—matching Crocs. “Is it food poisoning? I don’t remember you being fucked up last night.”

Not that he’d know; he spent most of it snorting lines with Cregan. You lower the toilet seat, cross your arms over it, and take a deep breath. “Okay. I’m going to tell you something. But you have to not panic.”

“Sure.”

“And you have to not get wasted and accidentally announce it to everyone either.”

“That was not me talking. That was the Icelandic beer. And we’re not in Iceland anymore, so, yeah. Problem solved.”

“I didn’t want to tell you,” you say weakly, haltingly. “Not yet. Not like this. But I need somebody to help me hide it.” Just like Cregan needed someone to tell about Iris. And he chose Aemond. “Baela’s working on her ballet school applications, and I can’t burden Rhaena with something like this, and…wait…one second…” You yank up the toilet seat and heave into the bowl until the wave of nausea passes.

Aegon rubs your back, gentle and sympathetic. “Would weed gummies help?”

“No, Aegon.”

“Percocet? Oxy? Valium? I know where to get heroin in Vegas, but I wouldn’t want you mixed up in something like that.”

You gaze pathetically at him. “I’m eight weeks pregnant.”

“Oh, fuck,” Aegon gasps.

“It’s Aemond’s.”

“Oh, fuck! How…? When…?!”

“Tokyo. Club Camelot. Just once. And then we never talked about it again.”

“Jesus Christ, you love a spontaneous bar bathroom hookup.” He blinks a few times, processing this revelation. “You don’t have to have it, you know. If you don’t want to. You have options. Maybe you wouldn’t back in Kansas, but—”

“Missouri,” you whimper, staring miserably down at your silvery reflection in the water.

“Whatever. But we could fly you anywhere. If you wanted to not be pregnant anymore. If you decided to…uh…serve it an eviction notice.”

“I’ve thought about that,” you say, but it’s not quite true; you thought about it as an option, but not one of your options. “I know, logically, that’s probably the reaction that makes the most sense. But it’s not what I want.”

“Okay.” And if he has an opinion one way or the other, he’s doing a very good job of not showing it. “So what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to resign at the end of this leg of the tour, and then I’m going to go home to Kansas City to raise my fatherless, clandestine bastard child.”

Aegon raises his eyebrows, chaotic blond hair falling in his face.

“That came out weird,” you admit. “But it is essentially accurate.”

“You’re just going to leave? You’re going to do this alone?”

“My parents will help me. They’ll be kind of horrified at first, but…they’ve been through worse. They’ll come to terms with it. They’ve been begging for grandkids since I was eighteen.”

“But you can’t leave,” Aegon says. And his large, murky, deep blue eyes are glistening.

“I have to go home. I have to build a life for myself. I can’t follow Comet around the world indefinitely.”

“But…but…so you’re eight weeks right now, right? So you have, like, I don’t know, over six months until the baby is born? That’s forever, Stargirl! That’s half a year! You could come to the fall shows in South America, and then visit London over the holidays, and…and…I mean I don’t even know what’s next for Comet after that, but you sure as hell don’t have to leave right now—!”

“Aegon, I could have complications because of the blood clotting gene thing. I could have a stroke, I could have a miscarriage. I need to be going to doctor’s appointments and taking leisurely afternoon walks and, like, eating vegetables and grilled chicken, not flying to a new city every couple of days while surrounded by booze and cigarettes.”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” He sighs and sits down cross-legged on the bathroom floor beside you, rubbing his face with his hands. He looks at you from between his fingers. “One of our last U.S. stops is in Kansas City. You want to get off the ride there?”

“I think that would be for the best.”

Aegon says suddenly: “Let’s get married.”

“What?” Your nausea is now secondary to your shock. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah. I’ll give you healthcare and child support and whatever.”

“You genuinely think that me marrying a cokehead sex addict is the solution to this problem?”

“I’m not a sex addict. I’m a sex enthusiast.”

“Aegon, I’m not going to marry you.”

He is wounded, pouting, childlike. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t want some arrangement. No matter how well-intentioned or generous it is.” I want real, constant, conventional love.

Now he smiles, faintly, sadly. “And you want a different Targaryen.”

You grab the can of ginger ale you left on the bathroom sink and sip it tentatively, averting your eyes, not answering him.

Aegon says: “Aemond doesn’t know?”

“No. He has no idea.”

“You have to tell him.”

“There is a zero percent chance of him taking this well.”

“You have to tell him,” Aegon insists, pointing to your belly, not showing yet but soon, soon, so soon. “If you’re keeping it, then that’s my family in there. You can’t just haul it off to the hellscape that is the American Midwest and push the rest of us out of its life. It can’t be a secret forever. Aemond would want to be involved. I want to be involved.”

“I’ll tell Aemond,” you promise. “But not yet. Not while I’m still on tour, not while I can’t get away from him if he…” You hesitate, not knowing what you are trying to say. Aegon waits. “He’s going to think I did it on purpose. That I was trying to use him or fix him or something. He’s going to hate me.”

“You can explain,” Aegon says, but doubtfully.

“Explain what? That I stopped taking the pill, but then forgot I’d stopped taking it, and then remembered right after we had unprotected sex that I initiated, whoops, oh and also Plan B apparently doesn’t fucking work?”

“His super sperm work, that’s for sure,” Aegon mutters. “Hope mine aren’t that energetic.”

“I’m a nobody,” you say. “And I have a lot to gain from this, even if that’s not how I see it. And Aemond…he’s so goddamn mistrustful. He’s so convinced that no one could want him or believe in him in a way that is pure. I’m afraid to tell him. I’m afraid he’s going to say things in the heat of the moment that I won’t be able to forget.” Like when he called me a slut. Like when he said he loves me.

“The getting pregnant thing sounds bad,” Aegon concedes. “And, yeah…he will most likely not react in an even vaguely sane way. Because he’s Aemond, and that clown from the It movies lives in his brain. But he’ll process it for a few weeks and then he’ll come to the right conclusion: that you wouldn’t deliberately do something to hurt him, and that he wants to be there for you and the kid. And I’ll vouch for you.”

You shake your head, your eyes faraway. “I wish I could wait to tell him until he’s in a better place emotionally. Until he has something…anything…to latch on to…a plan for what to do with his life…”

“Hey,” Aegon says. Gingerly, he turns your face towards his with one hand. His cheeks are splotchy with pink sunburn. He’s sweating out White Claws and Coppertone Sport. “I know you think you’re doing this alone, but you aren’t. I’m going to take care of you.”

You look at him with tears brimming in your eyes, hot, ashamed, blurring out your vision. “You’re so different than Aemond. You’re weightless and warm like daylight. You glow. But you do that for everyone, not just me. And I can’t count on you.”

“I love you,” Aegon says. “Not in a Jack and Rose on the Titanic way. In a different way. But I’m never going to forget about you, Stargirl. I get that I might disappear for a while, but I’m never going to not come back someday.”

You fold into him: softness, effortless proximity, cotton-candy-scented kisses smacked onto your temple, arms that circle protectively around your waist. “I love you too, Aegon.”

“Think you’ll be able to walk over with us to the aquarium at the Mandalay Bay? Criston got everyone tickets to feed the zebra shark.”

“When?”

“Um, soon. But I can buy you some time. I’ll text them that I’m busy FaceTiming Selena.”

“You’re a saint.” Patron saint of mayhem. You groan as you crawl out of his grasp and towards the shower. “I might be okay in thirty minutes. Let me try to start feeling human and wash my hair and stuff.”

“You want some help?”

You stare at him from where you are kneeling on the cold tile. “Really?”

“Yeah. You look…wobbly. You sit on the shower floor, I’ll wash your hair.”

“But I’ll be naked.”

He grins, holding up his hands in a blithe shrug. “I’ve seen it all before, Stargirl.”

“You’ll be naked too.”

“Don’t think you can tempt me into any unwholesome activities, you unwed knocked-up vixen.”

You laugh; it feels incredible. “I will gratefully accept your offer. I might not have a choice, actually. I don’t think I can keep my arms above my head for that long.”

Aegon stands, walks into the shower, starts reading bottles. “You want to smell like Japanese cherry blossoms or a coconut?” He pauses. “A fatherless clandestine bastard child conceived in Tokyo. Cherry blossoms it is.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A series of walkways connect the MGM Grand to the Mandalay Bay. Comet moseys through faux cobblestone streets in the New York-New York, complete with steam-wheezing manhole covers and operational storefronts of pizzerias, delis, bakeries, Irish pubs. The band narrowly avoids being trampled by droves of exuberant children—and you are looking at children more closely these days, watching how their parents corral them, noticing what makes them happy or sad or afraid—in the strobing, bleeping arcades of the castle-like Excalibur. In the Luxor, modeled after the pyramids of Ancient Egypt and featuring the largest atrium in the world, Criston begs everyone to pose for photos in front of sand-colored statues of sphinxes and pharaohs. “Smile big for your mom, Daeron!” Criston orders between pictures. Shelby, as always, is wearing her camera-ready, gloss-and-veneers grin. She’s also wearing a stunning floral-print maxi dress with a slit up to her thigh, looking glamorous and graceful and very not-pregnant. By the time Comet arrives in the sleek, golden, tastefully nautical corridors of the Mandalay Bay, you are exhausted and dangerously nauseous. You try your best to conceal it.

“Are you okay?” Baela asks. She is scrutinizing you as you stand in the shark tunnel of the aquarium, bathed in rippling sapphire-blue light. Overhead the captive ocean swims by: sea turtles, sawfish, Galapagos sharks, blacktip reef sharks, sand tiger sharks (hideous, in your humble opinion), stingrays, horseshoe crabs, a metallic rainbow of shimmering fish.

“Stargirl!” Aegon scolds mildly, ambling over to massage your shoulders. “I told you not to eat all those New York-New York corn dogs!” He shakes his head and smiles casually at Baela. “You can’t take these Midwestern girls anywhere. They see battered meat on a stick and lose all control.”

“How many did you eat?” Baela says, studying your sweated, queasy, generally unwell appearance.

“I don’t remember. I don’t want to talk about corn dogs right now.”

“You think it might be food poisoning?” Aemond asks. He has appeared in the shark tunnel with a plushie grey beast clutched in one hand. He’s lurking several yards away, but his forehead is creased with curiosity, with concern. His right eye flicks to where Aegon’s hands rest on your shoulders—disapproval? appraisal? fascination? envy?—and then back to your face.

“No, just gluttony.”

“It’s one of the seven deadly sins, you know.” Aegon counts on his fingers. “Gluttony, and pride, and lust, and…uh…uh…oh, right, greed…and uh…”

“What is this, Bible study?” Baela says.

“You’d know all about gluttony, you whale,” Jace tells Aegon.

Aegon shouts back: “I am like a whale, Jace! I am a rare and celebrated mammal!”

Jace mimes shooting Aegon with a harpoon. And then, when Cregan turns to glare at him, he grabs Baela’s hand. Jace’s face is at last fully healed and he has no interest in jeopardizing that. “Come on, baby. Let’s go see the Komodo dragons.”

“Don’t vomit on any sea creatures!” Baela chimes as they leave. Soon only you, Aemond, and Aegon are left in the shark tunnel. Rhaena and Luke are petting stingrays at the touch pool; Cregan, Daeron, and Criston depart to take their turns feeding the zebra shark. And Shelby is…actually, you’ve lost track of where Shelby is. Hopefully getting mauled by something.

“You should see a doctor,” Aemond tells you, stepping closer, although gradually, meanderingly, as if by happenstance. “You look…not great. You might need IV hydration or something.”

“Seriously, I’m okay. I’ll live.”

Shelby peeks irritably into the tunnel. “Honeybunch! Hurry! We have to take a selfie with this fish in the background so I can caption it I’ll love you inFINitely!”

“Will you give me two seconds, please?” Aemond snaps. She retreats with palpable unwillingness. Then Aemond offers you the plushie: a hammerhead shark, you see now. Aegon takes a few steps away from you both and pretends to be enthralled by a sawfish as it glides over the dome of the tunnel.

“What is this?!” you exclaim, delighted. Your nausea has momentarily abated.

“It’s your souvenir for Las Vegas. You can keep it right beside your sika deer from Japan. Hopefully they get along.”

“It’s so cute, Aemond! And very unexpected. Thank you.”

“No big deal,” he says. “I saw it and thought of you, that’s all.”

You pet the tiny hammerhead shark, downy and soft and grey like a storm cloud. “These were in the other tank, right?”

“Those were scalloped hammerheads,” Aemond corrects you. “This is a great hammerhead.”

“Wow. Pretentious.”

He laughs, a miraculously beautiful sound. And as you gaze at each other, painted in sapphire light and the shadows of fish, you remember everything about Aemond, the way he tasted, the sounds of his whispers and his moans, the indescribable fullness as he eased himself carefully into you. And you think: What would happen right now if there was no Shelby, no Aegon? Would he touch me? Would he kiss me? “There are actually no real-life great hammerheads in this aquarium. Not anymore. They don’t do well in captivity. One was flown here back in 2001 and she was on display for a while, but then she died unexpectedly a few years later.”

“She died?” You cradle the plushie shark in your arms. Suddenly, without warning, there are tears welling up in your eyes. You are distraught. You are consumed by irrational pregnancy hormones. “And she was the only shark of her kind here? So she didn’t have anyone who could understand her? She must have been so lonely.”

“Um, yeah, I guess. But sharks really don’t have emotions like people do, they’re mostly brainstem.”

“It’s still awful.” A tear slips down your cheek and falls onto the plushie shark before you can swipe it away.

Aemond is alarmed. “Are you…crying? About a shark that died like twenty years ago?”

“It’s sad, bruh,” Aegon sniffles, conjuring up some tears in his large, oceanic eyes. “The only one of her kind, bruh.”

“Honeybunch?” Shelby whines, appearing once again at the mouth of the tunnel. “Honey Bunches of Oats?”

Aemond sighs. “Yeah. On my way.” And he goes to meet her. A squall of giggling, bewitched children rush into the shark tunnel, pressing their eager little palms to the glass. Aegon’s manufactured tears have vanished and he is typing out a WhatsApp message to someone.

You think, picturing Shelby’s Vegas-themed fingernails skating across Aemond’s skin, flaunting parts of him while shunning others: I hate her, I hate her, I hate her.

~~~~~~~~~~

When Comet returns to their floor at the MGM Grand, there are three strangers waiting for them. Strangers to you, rather; not strangers to anybody else. Certainly not to Criston. The middle-aged woman—auburn hair, vast dark eyes, high cheekbones—rushes to throw her arms around him.

“Thank you for taking care of them,” she is saying, as Criston holds her and blushes a dark hectic pink. Then she turns her attention to Daeron and Aemond, touching their faces and their hair, asking if they are sleeping well, what they have been eating, what their favorite parts of the tour have been thus far. Aegon has not moved from your side. He fidgets awkwardly, shuffling in his Crocs, slurping on the Double Chocolatey Chip Frappuccino he bought from a Starbucks in the Excalibur. One of the strangers—a weathered older man in a grey suit, tall and vigilant like a wolfhound—examines him with a cool pale gaze. Aegon evades it.

The third stranger, oddly, comes directly to you. She is delicate, nimble, light eyes and hair like watercolors, soft and edgeless. She makes you think of birds: sweet songs, hollow bones. She takes your hands in hers and beams like she’s known you for years, like you are old friends. “You must be the one Aemond has told us so much about.”

Aemond? Me? You smile apologetically. “I think you mean Shelby. She’s over there.”

“Here I am!” Shelby waves from where she is parked determinately beside Aemond.

“No, I know who Shelby is,” the stranger says; and her dreamy, girlish voice is perfectly neutral. She might as well be making some throwaway comment about a squirrel in a tree, a fish in a koi pond. “I mean you. The girl made of stars.”

He talks about me? To people back home? Aemond turns away when you glance at him. Shelby is simmering. You tell the stranger: “That is very poetic. And flattering.”

“Stargirl, this is my sister Helaena,” Aegon says. Then he gestures to the others. “And that’s my mother Alicent, and the frightening bloke who looks like a mob boss is my grandfather Otto.”

“What on earth are you drinking?” Otto chides Aegon, wrinkling his dignified nose.

Aegon is stung, although he tries to hide it. “It’s a Double Chocolatey Chip Frappuccino. It’s delicious.”

“It’s a milkshake for adults. It’s diabetes in a cup. Put some effort into taking care of yourself for once, it’ll make you feel better.”

Aegon says flatly: “Yeah, I’m so glad you guys stopped by.”

“Are you here for the concerts?” Daeron asks, buoyant as usual.

Alicent looks to Criston; he smiles bashfully in return. “Well, Criston mentioned that you’d be in town, and your father just so happened to have a convention to attend here over some of the same days, so I figured…why not drop in and surprise my wonderful, accomplished, handsome sons?” Her prominent umber eyes drift to you. Helaena is still clasping your hands. “And their…friends.”

“Dad’s not around?” Aegon says cynically.

Alicent stalls. “Well…honey, you know how he is. He’s very, very busy. But he promised he’d try his best to make it to one of the shows.”

“You know, it’s strange. He never seems to be busy when Rhaenyra has her little art gallery openings.”

“So!” Alicent chirps, deflecting. “Criston said there was a pool. Is there a pool?” She pats the massive beach bag slung over her left shoulder. “We brought our swimsuits!”

The MGM Grand has an extensive pool complex featuring drink bars, multiple whirlpools, a waterfall, and a lazy river. Even in September—those last gasps of summer in the Northern Hemisphere—the temperature in Las Vegas hovers in the 90s. As you slather on sunscreen and nibble sparingly at an order of fries, Alicent and Helaena cannot disguise their interest in you. Alicent asks about your hometown, your family, your education, your time with Comet. She seems puzzled by your unmistakable fondness for Aegon, but otherwise smiles pleasantly and chuckles at your (carefully selected, intentionally tame) stories from the tour. Alicent strikes you as someone who is composed and warm on the surface but a jumble of frayed threads below; if you tugged on the right one, she’d unravel until all her seams split open and secrets poured out like dark water. Helaena doesn’t say much, and what she does say is strange, truthful but disjointed, like a line from a poem or a song; but she keeps touching you, a hand on your wrist or on your ankle or absentmindedly tracing the lines of your palm. From several chairs away, Shelby watches this with a toxic glower, for surely she as Aemond’s aspiring baby mama should be the beneficiary of his family’s attention. From behind his sunglasses, Aemond tries to act like he’s not staring as you spread sunscreen over your collarbones and chest and thighs.

“I’ve got drinks!” Aegon announces, appearing with a loaded tray. He weaves between chairs to deliver the beverages. “A pina colada for me…a strawberry daiquiri for Rhaena…a Twisted Pink for Luke…a margarita for Mom…no!” he barks at Daeron as the youngest Targaryen (for now, for the next approximately seven months) tries to grab a red slushie. “Not that one!”

Daeron is confounded. “But it’s a strawberry daiquiri. Isn’t that what I ordered?”

“Yeah, but that specific daiquiri is Stargirl’s.”

“What makes it different?”

“Extra whipped cream,” Aegon says without missing a beat. He passes it to you. Nonalcoholic is what it actually is: sweet and refreshing and without any bite whatsoever.

“Why are you being helpful?” Criston asks Aegon suspiciously, squinting, full of dread. “You’re never helpful.”

Aegon grins. “I’m just a helpful guy.”

“You’re freaking me out,” Criston says. “Cregan? I’m scared. What’s he up to?”

Placidly, sucking on a frozen hard lemonade through a hot pink straw with multiple loops, Cregan shrugs. Sunning themselves beside him are three Victoria’s Secret models. “Cregan?” Romee Strijd croons, reaching over to comb her fingers through his hair. “Could you rub more sunscreen on my back, please?”

Otto is stretched out on a pool chair and reading the Business section of the New York Times. Jace, Baela, Luke, Rhaena, and Daeron are gathering up their inner tubes and heading into the lazy river, a swift crystalline blue current that reminds you of Aemond’s clear right eye. Alicent gets up to go talk to Criston; they speak in low voices, less secretive than sacred, like each believes the other to be a relic necessitating great care. Shelby is now scrolling through her iPhone. Aemond is still watching you. The speakers are playing Somebody’s Heartbreak by Hunter Hayes.

“I was hoping you could fix me,” Helaena says suddenly.

You don’t understand. You think you must have misheard her. “What was that, Helaena?”

“Aemond says you fix people. That you’re a saint.”

“I’m certainly not a saint.” I’m just an unwed mother from Missouri. Who wears Cookie Monster pajama pants. “And even if I was, I don’t think anything about you needs fixing.”

“But I’m not normal.” And her eyes glisten with it: this knowledge that can’t be escaped, a lifetime of whispers and rumors and being hopelessly misunderstood.

“No, you’re not.” You won’t lie to her. What good would that do? What cure can come from dishonestly, even when spun from compassion? “But Freddie Mercury wasn’t normal. Neither was Jane Goodall. Einstein, Montessori, Dali, Tesla, da Vinci, Curie, Shelley, Newton, they were all extremely, undeniably not-normal. And guess what? Aegon’s not normal either. And neither is Aemond. And neither is anyone else in Comet. They might not be the same brand of not-normal as you, but I can guarantee you they are all bona fide freaks of nature. Because that’s what it takes to make something new, to leave a beautiful mark on the world. Being not-normal is painful sometimes. But that’s not a reflection on you. It’s an embodiment of how small-minded and cruel all those normal people can be. You don’t want to be like them. You’re above them, you can see things they can’t. You keep flying. Don’t worry about the dirt down here on Earth.”

And only now do you realize you have an audience, peering over with wide eyes: Alicent, Criston, Shelby, Aemond, Aegon, Cregan and the Victoria’s Secret models, Otto wearing the first smile you’ve ever seen from him. Helaena, calmed and content, goes to sit by him; he begins braiding a green ribbon into a lock of her hair.

“For the record,” Aegon says. “I am definitely dirt.”

You laugh as you gaze up at him, shielding your eyes form the sun. “No you aren’t. Not even close.”

He offers you a hand. “Ready to get in the lazy river?”

“Yeah, I think so…” You finish your daiquiri, climb off your chair, shed your black swimsuit coverup, and walk over to the pile of inner tubes that Criston collected for the band. You can feel Aemond’s eyes on you as your bare feet pad across the cement. He moves a towel over his swim trunks and then stares at the palm trees, trying to appear nonchalant.

“Honeybunch, let’s go in the water too,” Shelby says.

“Um. In a minute.”

The rushing current has brought Jace, Baela, Luke, Rhaena, and Daeron back around again. From his inner tube, Jace splashes you and Aegon as you approach the steps that descend into the lazy river. “Finally daring to enter my watery domain?! I’m the king down here. I’m Poseidon. But if you want to battle me for my throne, you’re welcome to try.”

“Don’t you start bumping people!” Aegon yells, jabbing his index finger at Jace. “You keep your little scrawny chicken limbs to yourself!”

“Aww, someone call Greenpeace, we’ve got a beached whale over here…”

“Careful,” Aegon says, grabbing your arm to stead you on the steps. “They’re slippery.”

And Aemond observes this, lighting one of his Benson & Hedges cigarettes and inhaling a deep breath of smoke, his face lined with scars of the past and furrows of worry for the future.

~~~~~~~~~~

Twenty-four hours later, the band is enjoying dinner down the strip at the Wynn’s buffet: eccentric modern art and elaborate fruit sculptures, prime rib and crepes made to order, gelato and pasta, sushi you can’t eat. Alicent, Helaena, and Otto are here with Comet. So are the Victoria’s Secret models. So is Selena Gomez. She sits next to Aegon, teaching him the Spanish words for various foods and giggling as he butchers them. When Justin Bieber’s Sorry comes on the speakers, she rolls her eyes and stabs aggressively at her shrimp.

You were violently ill until 3 p.m. and then mercifully improved. Upon arriving at the buffet, you caught a whiff of the Alaskan king crab legs and were at once ravenous for them. You demolish plate after plate, sucking hunks of meat out of cracked shells, licking up dribbles of drawn butter from your fingers and wrists. Aemond—relegated mostly to fresh fruit, chunks of bread, and a vegan ratatouille—ogles while trying very hard to act like he’s not. Jace pulls one-dollar bills out of his wallet and throws them at you.

“You could have an OnlyFans,” Baela says. “Forget a real job. Make millions splattering yourself in crabmeat and butter for sad horny men. You could do a whole series…shucking oysters…dismantling lobsters…”

You imagine your child in kindergarten: So where does your mommy work? She stays home and films herself eating seafood in her underwear. “I don’t think I have the disposition for a celebrity lifestyle. You know I’m always hiding from the paparazzi.”

Alicent chuckles as she takes a bite of her roasted quail. “Yes, I remember the photos! Always tucked behind Cregan or Aegon. Except those times when you were walking with Aemond. That was so sweet of you, encouraging him like that. I’m sure it meant the world to him. Ever since…well, you know…it’s a more stressful experience for him now.”

Aemond, self-conscious, busies himself with stirring his ratatouille. “It was really my pleasure,” you tell Alicent.

“Pleasure, huh?” Jace teases, wiggling his eyebrows.

Baela asks you once again if you’ll ride the New York-New York rollercoaster with her tonight. You pretend to be terrified of rollercoasters. She counters that you definitely rode rollercoasters at Grona Lund when the band was in Stockholm. You try to gaslight her into thinking she has misremembered this. Aegon jumps in with (doubtlessly fabricated) statistics about how many people are killed in rollercoaster accidents.

“Really?” Baela says. “Five million people die on rollercoasters every year?”

Aegon knows he’s made a fatal error, but he is committed. “Yup.”

“You’re telling me that more people are killed by rollercoasters than live in the entire state of Oregon? And no one has addressed this problem? This epidemic of amusement park calamities?”

Aegon shakes his head spiritedly. “Nope.”

Now Shelby is saying something to Alicent at the other end of the long table. You don’t listen too closely, because you’re in the habit of mentally muting her. Still, you can’t help but catch snippets. It’s about the importance of public figures being good role models. “…So it’s probably for the best that she’s not interested. Young girls are very impressionable, you know.”

“Oh?” Alicent is replying, polite but noncommittal, perplexed. Criston brings her a miniature creme brulee from the buffet’s sprawling dessert section.

“Don’t you agree?” Shelby asks you, and the table goes quiet. She smiles sweetly, innocently, all beachy waves and highlighter sheen.

You lower your crab leg. “What exactly am I agreeing with?”

“That people who accept the responsibility to be in the spotlight should be the sort of role models that the youth can look up to.”

“Um, not really, no. I think a popstar’s job is to be a popstar, not to impersonate Mother Teresa or stop global warming or anything. They’re not running for president. But I mean, yeah, I guess they shouldn’t be murderers, so I agree like 1%.”

Aemond glances over at where Shelby sits beside him, not knowing what she’s up to, not especially invested. She sniffs, a dismissive, haughty little sound, like can you believe how uncivilized this bitch is? “Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter since you aren’t planning to pursue fame anyway.”

“Lovely Shelby,” Jace says, taunting her. “Are you implying that our supernaturally poised and responsible Stargirl would set some sort of nefarious example for the little girls of planet Earth?”

“Yeah. That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Now Shelby is staring fixedly at you, cold like deep water.

You glare back defiantly. She couldn’t possibly have found out about the baby. Aegon would never have told her, and no one else knows. “Because…?”

“Because of what happened when you were in high school.”

Nothing changes for almost anyone else at the table, but it does for you: your mind goes blank, your skin goes cold, your stomach lurches, you are fifteen all over again. It’s not the fear that anyone in Comet would think less of you for it; you don’t think they would. Alicent might, Otto almost certainly, Cregan’s flock of models could carry the gossip anywhere—and surely this is Shelby’s design—but Comet would not condemn you. No, what paralyzes and disgusts you, what empties your veins and fills them with ice, is the truth that you are not the one choosing if and how to tell them, you are once again powerless and exposed, you are the curves and hollows of bare flesh they’re reading like a newspaper headline.

How…? Aemond…? But no: he looks just as horrified as you do, this is the last thing he expected, he didn’t think she knew, his eyes fly to yours and stay there, frenetic blue emotions but no words.

The others peer around the table. Aegon is frowning at Shelby, but he doesn’t know what she means, he doesn’t know how to help…because you’ve never told him. “What about high school…?” Luke says uncertainly.

“It’s not difficult to find,” Shelby tells you. “All someone has to do is Google your name and Kansas City, then comb back through a few pages. There are old Tweets and Facebook posts about it. Pictures, even, if you search long enough. Can you imagine how parents would feel about their daughters’ favorite boy band associating with someone like that? Popularizing that sort of behavior? It’s unacceptable. It destroys innocence.”

Your hands are shivering violently. You take one deep, shaky breath. “Actually, what happened was—”

Aemond lunges to his feet. “Don’t,” he commands you, holding up a hand. Then he turns to Shelby. His voice is deeper than you’ve ever heard it, stormy, cutting, wrathful. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Aemond!” Alicent gasps.

Shelby blinks up at him. She is bewildered; she has miscalculated. She had no idea he knew. Her eyes dart from Aemond to you.

“No, don’t you dare look at her,” Aemond seethes. “You don’t look at her. You look at me.”

It takes effort, but Shelby manages to comply. She gawks at him, dismayed, flinching away from his rage, his scar, his sightless left eye like the lethal atmosphere of Neptune. She cannot hide how she truly sees him, how she will always see him. As something broken, pitiful, less.

“What the hell does she have to be ashamed of?” Aemond asks Shelby. “She doesn’t use people. She doesn’t sell false versions of herself. She is kind, and wise, and forgiving, and beloved. And what are you? A professional liar. A manipulator, a snake. Someone who knows how to pity but not how to cure.”

“Aemond—”

“Stand up.”

Shelby is petrified, shellshocked. “Why?”

“Because I’m going to put you in an Uber, and it will take you to the airport, and I honestly don’t care where you go from there. But you can’t stay in Vegas. And I never want to see you again.”

“Aemond, please!” Shelby cries. She still hasn’t moved from her chair. There are tears flooding down her cheeks: despair, defeat. You could almost feel sorry for her. Almost.

“And if you fight me,” Aemond says. “Or if I hear a whisper of you trying to disparage anybody at this table, I will end you, Shelby. Every app you use to edit your photos, every so-called friend you’ve worked to sabotage, every sponsorship you haven’t disclosed, I’ll expose all of it. I’d call up the fucking Rolling Stone if they cared enough about you to publish it. I will end you. Now stand up.”

Trembling, sobbing, this time Shelby obeys. Aemond and a flock of security guards—two of Shelby’s, two of Comet’s—escort her out of the buffet. He is only gone for a minute or two; the table is silent except for slurps of drinks and the occasional squealing of silverware against plates. When Aemond returns, he immediately goes to you. He rests a hand on your shoulder—gently, protectively, the same way Criston does—and murmurs so no one else can hear. He is so close the air you breathe is filled with him: smoke, cologne, dissipating fury.

“I am so sorry. I had no idea she would do that. I don’t think she’ll speak of it again. Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” you reply in a stunned little squeak.

“Good.” Then he looks fiercely around the table, pausing to lock eyes with every single person. His meaning is clear. You will not ask questions. You will forget this happened. He sits back down beside Shelby’s vacated seat and pops a red grape into his mouth.

“Damn, Stargirl,” Jace says after a moment. “So you’re a serial killer.”

Everyone laughs, and the nightmare is over. It breaks open like dropped glass. “Don’t worry. I only murder obnoxious, curly-haired brunettes.”

He winks as he licks chocolate mousse from his spoon. “I wouldn’t mind being added to your body count.”

“Shut up,” Baela groans. “Shut up, shut up…!”

You excuse yourself. You walk out of the buffet. The Wynn has a gorgeous hallway that passes through a garden of whimsical ornaments, flowers, trees, and string lights. Too suddenly for you to change course, you realize what’s going to happen; you stumble into the greenery and vomit five plates’ worth of Alaskan king crab onto a Ficus tree.

“Need a napkin?” Aegon asks; he has followed you. “I don’t actually have one. But I could take my shirt off and give you that.”

Still hunched over and spitting, you shake your head. “No, I’m okay. I’ll use a leaf.” You don’t make eye contact with him. You don’t want to invite unwelcome questions.

“Relax,” Aegon says, rubbing your back. “I’m not going to ask.”

You are relived but skeptical. “You’re not curious?”

“I figure if it was something you wanted me to know about, you would have already told me.” He smirks. “I do think it’s interesting that Aemond knows something about you I don’t.”

“He gets one secret, you get another. You’re even.” You thought you were done. False alarm. You resume vomiting on the Ficus tree.

“Goddamn, that is disgusting. You want a Percocet or something?”

“I think that would be less than ideal for the baby.”

“Oh. Right.” He considers you with great sympathy. “A lot of discomfort over something that’s the size of what, a chicken nugget?”

“Yeah, probably.” You rip a leaf off the tree, wipe your lips, trudge back to the buffet bathroom to sanitize yourself as best you can.

When Comet’s fleet of Escalades arrives back at the MGM Grand, you loiter in the lobby hoping for Criston to appear. You shoo away the band when they try to wait for you, and once Aegon catches on he ensures that they file into the elevators and zoom up to their floor. You need a minute alone with Criston. You need to arrange your imminent departure from the tour. Criston, oddly, does not come inside. You give him five minutes and then head back out into the arid Vegas heat, dry, ancient, barren. One of the Escalades is still idling in front of the hotel. You open the door. Criston and Alicent are in the back seat: he’s on top of her, her legs and arms curled around him like ivy, the hem of her chic mom-appropriate sundress pulled up to her waist, her lips famished and moaning against his.

You scream, they scream, you slam the Escalade door shut. Seconds later, Criston bursts out of it. He is wearing only his hastily pulled on boxers and a half-unbuttoned white shirt.

“I’m sorry!” you blubber. “I, uh, I didn’t see anything! Um, I mean, I didn’t see that much—”

“You can’t tell anyone,” Criston pleads.

“I definitely will not.”

“Her husband…he’s…he’s not a great guy, you know? And Alicent, she’s…she’s so…she’s so incredible but so sad, she’s been through hell this past year, and after Aemond was hurt we…uh…well we spent a lot of time in hospital rooms together…and I just love her hair and her eyes, and her devotion to her family, and the way she smells…”

“I really, really, really do not feel entitled to nor desire the details that you’re sharing with me right now.”

“Okay.” Criston tugs at the collar of his shirt, catching his breath. “What were you doing out here anyway?”

“I have to talk to you about something, but it can wait.”

“You’ve already interrupted us at this point. Just go ahead.”

“Alright. Well. I’m leaving Comet.”

“No!” he cries, distressed. “Really? Why?! Is it something Jace did? What did Jace do? Because I can let Cregan know and he’ll—”

“No no no, nothing like that. It’s just time for me to go figure out my own life now.” Time for me to find a permanent job, have my baby, re-traumatize my parents, the whole American Dream thing.

Criston sighs. “I was hoping you’d stay on through the South America dates.”

“I can’t, Criston. I appreciate all that you’ve done for me and how welcoming everyone has been, this has been a fantastic experience…um, overall…but I really do have to go home now. Can we fill out the paperwork and make the Kansas City shows my last stop with Comet?”

He nods reluctantly. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll get it taken care of. We can do signatures in a few days.”

“Aegon is the only other person who knows I’m leaving. I don’t want anyone else told yet.”

“Got it. You keep my secret, I’ll keep yours.”

These secrets are multiplying, you think as you enter the MGM Grand and Criston climbs back into the Escalade. Like cells, like storm clouds. Upstairs in Comet’s hallway, Selena Gomez is in a war with the vending machine; it has snagged her Starbursts and refuses to release them. You don’t offer to help her shake the machine—heavy lifting, not good for the littlest Targaryen—but you do use your flip flop to reach up inside the machine and knock the Starbursts loose.

“You’re the best!” Selena high-fives you. “Aegon tells me you’re a really talented therapist.”

“Oh no, no way, not yet. I mean I’m really new at it and I don’t have a lot of confidence in my abilities but I am learning a lot and maybe one day—”

“The work you do is very important,” Selena says; and she seems to mean it. She is so beautiful in a vulnerable, benign way. It is difficult to not be starstruck.

“Thank you,” you manage.

“Watch out for him,” she says quietly, discretely. “Anytime his parents visit, he’s a little extra fucked up for a while.”

“I’ll do my best.”

She smiles, lays a palm briefly against your cheek, floats down the hallway and is gone.

~~~~~~~~~~

On their last night in Las Vegas, Comet adds a cover to their usual lineup of songs: Animal by Neon Trees. It was Luke’s idea, which means it was probably Aemond’s. Aemond wanders the lofty catwalks and shadowy hallways making his notes, his comments, his white amendments on night-black paper, stars freckled across the void. Alicent, Helaena, and Otto join you, Selena, Baela, Rhaena, and the Victoria’s Secret models in the front row. Otto dances with Helaena, spinning and laughing; Alicent cheers for Daeron and watches for glimpses of Criston as he studies the performance from just off-stage. Aegon fumbles no less than five lyrics. Cregan has come up with this new trick where he can remove his boxers on-stage while keeping his pants on. He gifts the aforementioned boxers to a group of soccer moms who in the commotion rip them to tiny, sweaty, treasured shreds.

After the show, Alicent, Helaena, and Otto catch a flight back to London; Selena takes a limo to Los Angeles. Jace’s suite at the MGM Grand, per tradition, is soon engulfed in voices and music and smoke and amply flowing alcohol. Criston is chatting with Aemond, who has a Bramble in one hand and a smoldering cigarette in the other. Cregan and the Victoria’s Secret models are playing Jenga with Luke and Rhaena. In Baela’s absence—she’s working out in the hotel gym—Jace is consoling himself with plentiful Vespers and some barely-legal fangirls; he is introducing his tattoos to them one by one. Daeron is toasting Yuenglings with friends at the bar. And Aegon is like he always is: here, then gone, then here again, and finally gone, like a comet, like a tornado that touches down without warning and vanishes just as quickly. You lose track of him. It’s not your fault. He comes and goes like an act of God.

In the hallway, several suite doors are open, including Aemond’s. You slip inside; no need to watch out for Shelby anymore. You find his notebook on his nightstand—the same place you keep your souvenirs in your own bedroom—and you engage in your least-honorable hobby. You’ve been sneaking looks at his lyrics since Paris. You open the notebook and rifle through onyx pages to the most recent, starlight-hued entry:

I was closest to the sun, like Icarus, swimming in your light

You are the only person I’d let melt my wings

Worry a line into your face, I think about it for days

Don’t talk to me about what the end of summer brings

“He’d kill you if he saw that,” Luke says from the doorway, grinning. “Well, he probably wouldn’t kill you. But he would not be thrilled.”

You snap the notebook shut and place it back on the nightstand. “Please don’t tell him. I am but a humble fangirl.”

“I won’t tell him. But you should ask permission.”

“I don’t think he would give it to me anymore.”

Luke is gazing at the notebook now, his face distant. “It’s screwed up, right? I only got into Comet because of Aemond. He fought for me and he won. But when he was the one who needed help, I couldn’t do the same.”

“Luke…” You open your hands: sorrow, futility. “You must be the least blameworthy person in this whole goddamn mess. You tried to fight for Aemond when no one else would. You make him feel valued. Every single day I watch you remind him of his place here in Comet. You’re the only person who does that.”

“I can’t do this without him,” Luke says softly, fearfully. “I don’t know how to write a song without his advice. I don’t know how to end a show without being able to ask him what I did right or wrong.”

“I think you’re more capable than you believe you are.”

Luke is troubled. “Am I hurting him by wanting him to stay?”

You contemplate this for a while before you choose your words. “In my opinion, Aemond needs to know that his contributions to Comet were real and they he will always be welcome here. But he also needs to find a new purpose. He’s a guest in the band. He’s not a part of it anymore. He can’t go back to who he was before the accident, he’s learned too much about how people treated him when he was hurt. Even if he got up on stage again for a farewell performance—which I think would be beneficial for him—he’s never going to be a full-time popstar again. He needs something else. I don’t know what that thing is, but he needs to be free to find it.”

“I understand,” Luke says. He’s quiet, mulling it over. And then, brightly: “Want to play Jenga with us? Cregan is so bad at it. Or he’s letting us win, I’m not sure which.”

“That’s super sweet, but I think I’m going to go lay down. Maybe take a half-hour nap and then see who’s still conscious for me to hang out with.”

“Are you okay?” Luke asks abruptly.

“What? Yeah, of course, I’m just exhausted. I think the tour is wearing on me.”

“You haven’t looked good for a few weeks now,” Luke says. “I don’t mean that in a rude way. You just seem sad or sick or something. Or both.”

You give him your best reassuring smile. “I’m okay, Luke. I promise.”

He smiles back. “Good. Enjoy your nap!”

“Enjoy your Jenga!”

You drag yourself back to your suite, a human-shaped pile of concrete and lead. What had Aegon said? A lot of discomfort over something that’s the size of what, a chicken nugget?

“We’ll be back in Kansas City in a few weeks,” you whisper as you collapse onto the bed, one hand resting on your not-showing-but-soon belly. And as your eyes drift shut, you realize how good home sounds, better than it ever has before. Is that nesting? Is that just getting older? You don’t want to leave Comet. But you do want your real life to begin.

You are nearly asleep when you hear him come in: the swipe of a keycard, the clopping of Crocs, a clumsy dive onto the bed that rocks the whole mattress.

“Hey,” you say, eyes still closed.

Aegon doesn’t answer. You sit up and look at him: sprawled face-down, hair in disarray, sunshine yellow Crocs still on his feet.

“Aegon?”

He doesn’t reply, doesn’t move. You reach out to shove him. His eyes are closed; he is limp. He’s not breathing.

“Aegon?!” you shriek, shaking him, hitting him. There’s no part of him that is glowing now. The sun has set, but the moon is full: his skin is silvery-white and bloodless. You’re screaming for anyone who will hear you.

Cregan is the first to arrive; he was out in the hallway leading all three of the Victoria’s Secret models back to his suite. And then it all happens very quickly. Cregan is dialing 911, Aemond is dragging Aegon off the bed and onto the floor, Criston sprints to get something from his room and returns with two small white devices that he’s ripping out of their packaging. Aegon’s skin is turning blue. Criston feels for a pulse, doesn’t find it. He’s telling Cregan what to relay to the 911 dispatcher: no breathing, no heartbeat, Narcan being administered. Criston cradles Aegon’s head and tilts it backwards so he can dose him with the nasal spray. Then Criston looks at his wristwatch and begins chest compressions. You are pinned by shock and horror to the wall. You can hear people out in the hallway, voices and footsteps, clamoring and rumors.

There is Jace’s frantic voice: “Is he okay?!” Cregan pushes him back outside.

“Come on, Aegon,” Aemond is saying, patiently but firmly, slapping at his brother’s face, pinching his cheeks. No blood rushes in to darken the battered flesh. “We’re all here. We’re all waiting for you. Come on back.”

“One minute,” Criston notes as he glances at his watch. Forever, it feels like.

“I’d give him another,” Aemond says.

“Second dose of Narcan,” Criston tells Cregan as he stops compressions and administers another round. And that does it: Aegon gasps, jolts, comes alive again. His skin transforms from blue to white to pink. “Jesus fucking Christ,” Criston hisses, and buries his face in his hands, trembling with relief and adrenalin. Cregan is informing the 911 dispatcher that the patient is back from the dead.

Aemond lifts his brother so he’s sitting upright and holds him, smoothing back his hair, murmuring to him words too hushed to understand. Aegon says, dazed: “Did I do it again?”

“Yeah. Yeah you did. But you’re back now.”

“I’m sorry, Aemond.”

“Stop—”

“I’m so sorry. I should have been at soundcheck.”

“Stop, Aegon. It’s over, it’s done. None of us knew what would happen.”

There are glittering, glass-like tears on Aegon’s face. His voice is choked and heavy, so heavy. “I’ve never wanted to hurt you.”

“You’re hurting me now.”

“One of these times you should just let me die.”

“But then who would torment Father? I don’t have nearly as much talent for it.”

Now they are both laughing, and you see that Aemond has a few tears of his own: only from his right eye, only from the one that fate spared.

Criston says, almost apologetically: “Aegon, we have to take you to the hospital to get checked out.”

Aegon sighs. “Yeah, I know. I remember how it goes.” Aemond and Criston help him to his feet. He can’t walk on his own; they half-carry him out into the hallway where EMS is just arriving. And once Aegon is on the stretcher and being ferried away—with great fanfare, everyone gathered in the corridor to wave him off—Aemond comes back for you.

Together you ride in one of the Escalades to the hospital and stand outside the transparent windows of the room while a lethargic, irritable Aegon is hooked up to machines and Criston talks to the doctors and nurses, vigorously reprimands him, makes a phone call to Alicent so she hears it before TMZ can report the story.

“I haven’t helped him at all,” you say to Aemond. “Not last June. Not now. Never.”

“That’s not true. You don’t know where he started.” He watches you, this man who sees so much and yet so little, who maybe loves you but sometimes hates you and is the father of a soon-to-be child that you already feel you know. “Do you love him?”

“Yes. But not in the way you mean. I would kill for Aegon, but I’d never marry him.”

Aemond chuckles, like this is a ludicrous combination of words. “Has he asked?” And then when he sees your face, too exhausted and woeful to censor itself, his jaw drops open.

“He wasn’t serious.”

“A strange thing to joke about.”

“Not for us.” It would be strange if Aemond joked about it. Because I could actually see myself marrying him. Not in another world, in this one, if only the stars aligned just right.

“Look, I think I have to apologize,” Aemond says. “Because I might have…misinterpreted things. The way you make me feel is…I can’t describe it, you know? It’s like, light, and warmth, and music, and I made the mistake of thinking that was only for me. But you do that for everyone, right? It’s not just for me. It’s never been just for me. And you’ve been so goddamn gracious. You’ve never asked me for anything. You’ve never put yourself in a position to use or take from me. You knew what I needed and you tried to give it to me. So thank you. I know I said that I understood you better in Reykjavik, and I was wrong then. But I understand you now. You help people. You heal people.”

You turn to him, startled. “You aren’t like everyone else. That’s not how I think of you.”

He is intrigued, perhaps hopeful, perhaps too afraid to hope. Pity is familiar. Love would be something else. “No?”

“No.” Truths, like birds with clipped wings, struggle in vain to take flight. “I have to confess something.”

“Go on then.”

I want you. I love you. I want to have this child with you. But I’m so fucking scared that you won’t be able to handle it. And at last, cowardice: “I’ve been reading your lyrics.”

He smiles. “That’s fair, I guess. Everything I’ve written since June has been about you anyway.”

Criston emerges from Aegon’s room. His dark hair sticks to the sweat on his forehead; his eyes are damn near vacant. He looks like he’s aged ten years in the past hour. “He wants to talk to you,” Criston tells you. “I don’t think he’ll be awake in five more minutes, and he might not remember any of it anyway. But he is insistent.”

“He usually is,” you say, and go in.

Aegon is dressed in a pale blue hospital gown, no neon. His feet are bare; you can tell because one of them is sticking out from under the blankets. His hair is slicked back from his face. He is afflicted with a slew of twisted wires and beeping monitors. But he is still Aegon: beautiful, bright, generally harmless to anyone except himself. He blinks blearily up at you. “No one has ever loved me, and it’s because I don’t deserve it.”

“Millions of people love you, Aegon. I love you.”

“For more than a day?”

“For all of them.”

He grins, then presses his right palm to his chest. “Starboy,” he says. Then he points at you. “Stargirl.” His gaze drops to your belly. “Starbaby,” he declares at last. “Not my Starbaby. But a Starbaby nonetheless.”

“You can’t leave me,” you say softly, tears falling down onto his blankets. “I can’t do this without you. Not just the tour. Everything. I can’t live in a world without you in it. You can’t leave Comet. You can’t leave me.”

And Aegon murmurs, petulant like a child as he drowns in sleep: “You’re leaving me first.”

#aemond x you #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond x reader #aegon x reader #aegon ii #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii x you

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futurefamousdeadmusician · 2 months

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Escape to the Eden Club - Sister! reader x Shelby Brothers

Summary; Emily Shelby wants to spend the night away from the confines of Small Heath and decides to head out to the famed Eden Club of London. All was well until a certain trio arrived and reigned havoc.

Author's Note; I took some liberties with the plot/ location of the Eden Club itself. That being said, this is still meant to be aligned closely with the fight scene from season 2. As always, let me know what you think.

Eager to escape into the cool evening air, Emily wrapped her shawl loosely around her shoulders and took stock of her purse. A small roll of bills, lipstick, a dainty opal hairbrush, and a shining Colt Pocket Hammerless Arthur had given her some time ago. With one last glance to the mirror, she smoothed out her dress and went for her bedroom door, shutting it softly behind her. Seeing as Polly would still be at the church for sometime, she decided it would be best to inform her brother on her intentions. Emily approached Thomas’ office and peered in to see the stout man sitting behind his modest desk. She rapped lightly on the door frame and was beckoned inside by just a flick of her brother’s eyes instead of a word. After only taking one step into the room she spoke in the most clear, confident tone she could muster.

“I’m going out with Ada this evening. I’ll be back by midnight.” Hoping the conversation would end there she turned to leave only to be stopped by her brothers words. Still not looking up from the papers spread across the wood before him he cleared his throat and said,

“Going out with Ada, eh? Why is this the first I’m hearing about this?” Emily rolled her eyes, hoping her brother didn’t see, and replied,

“Because I didn’t think there would be any issue.” Emily didn’t like lying, a quality instilled in her by her Aunt Polly since her youth. Though, as a Shelby, it came naturally. Exhausting Emily further, Thomas continued in his questioning.

“Where about are you two going?” Calmer this time, as to not arouse suspicion, the girl replied,

“Just to dinner, in Digbeth.”

“The name of the establishment?” With more attitude, she replied,

“The Carriage.” The man sat for a moment, only sparing her one more glance as he searched her face for deceit. He apparently found none.

“Be back by 11.” Emily offered a small smile and made her way out of the home on Watery Lane, calling over her shoulder,

“I’ll see you at 11:30, Tom.”

The night was still young and the chance for her to walk the streets of Birmingham alone and untethered was an excitement of a life time. She wouldn’t just be walking the streets of her hometown tonight, though. After meeting her friend Scarlett by the cut they hailed a cab and set out for London.

The passage was just under 2 hours before they arrived to the Eden Club just outside of the city. After tipping the cabman and exiting out into the brisk night they set for the front doors of the avant-garde establishment. Scarlet giggled with excitement as they approached the doorman who knew better than to question two striking young women trying to enter the club. The main hall filled was filled with the smell of smoke and sex and the band played on to ring in the young night. It wasn’t often that Emily got to leave the holdings of Small Health, let alone the claws of her brothers. After Ada’s departure, Thomas was more worried than ever about loosing his youngest sister. This fear often manifested into the overarching control of Emily’s every move. He felt it was both an act of love and an act of necessity. Emily knew she was deeply loved by her brother and cared for him in the same way. Yet, at the end of the day, if Tom could have his thumb on the pulse of every member of the family, only then could he ensure their safety, or so he believed.

“Isn’t this amazing!” Scarlett squealed in Emily’s ear. Scarlett was one of the few friends that Thomas approved of. She came from a respectable, working-class family who raised horses and often did work with the Shelby family.

“I know.” Emily said back, raising her voice to soar over the loud music. The pair approached the bar and beckoned the attendant for a drink. Soon after, two men approached the women introducing themselves as Paul, a tall man with short black hair in a pressed grey suit, and David, a slightly stout man with dusty blonde hair and rosy cheeks who’s slim black suit made him look taller than he was. Paul explained that Emily had caught his eye from the moment she had walked in and it would be a crime to let a woman like herself buy her own drinks. It was only out of the confines of Birmingham that handsome men would approach her, unafraid of people she was related to. She could speak freely and finally feel a sense of control she was never afforded at home.

“Would you care to dance?” Paul asked the young woman and carefully took her hand in his. They left their drinks at the table where David and Scarlett sat completely enthralled with one another. He led her to the dance floor just as a new song started over at the bands stage. Spinning around the floor Emily couldn’t help but laugh at the happiness she felt in Paul’s arms. He leaned in close to her face and breathed,

“You are absolutely stunning.” His breath smelled of bourbon and lust. This was Emily’s dream; to be young and free. Finally she was living it.

She only noticed the violent outburst taking place across the large room once she heard the crashing noise of a wooden table full of glassware hit the ground. The band cut to a halt and gasps filled the audience. Out of instinct, Paul shoved Emily behind him as he assessed the situation. When it became clear that the men dressed in black meant to do harm he ushered his date back to their table to collect their friends and make a run for the door. Through the crowd, Emily peered over the bobbing heads of patrons ducking and running at the chaos she noticed a familiar jacket fly up as one of the unknown assailants struck another man across the face. As he turned to face another man she saw the face of her brother adorned with a busted lip and small drops of another mans blood.

“Fuck.” She whispered and made a run for her table. Scarlett and her companion had already gathered their things and stood to meet the other couple. The four of them hid behind the large sofa they had once sat on while they waited for a path to clear to the main exit of the building. Emily grabbed her friend by the arm and swung the girl around to meet her scared face. The two men were conversing anxiously at the best plan of escape while the women spoke in hushed words.

“It my fucking brother!”

“What?” Scarlett gasped “Are you sure?” The two women peered over the couch to see the men still going at it near the center of the room. This time, Arthur’s face came into view through the madness.

“Fuck it’s the lot of them. We need to go. Now!” Emily shoved the other girl forward and the men followed suit. A gunshot rang out through the building and they all dropped to the floor covering their heads. Paul grabbed Emily’s shoulders hovered his body over hers to protect her. When the men quit fighting and stood to see where the shot had come from all became quiet. The four took this opportunity to head straight for the exit. Emily only heard the indistinct echo of Tommy’s voice before clearing the doorway.

Pouring into the street patrons ran every conceivable direction to vacate the path of anymore possible bullets. After reaching the end of the block Paul spoke, out of breath.

“Is everyone ok?” Each took their turn affirming that they were not hurt, just a bit shaken. Emily turned to her friend communicating with just their eyes that they all needed to get leave before her brothers had a chance to exit the building. “Alright, I need to get you home.” Paul said and took Emily’s shoulder and David followed suit with Scarlett.

“No!” Emily said too forcefully, “I - We will get home, I promise. You need to get on your way,” she explained gently. Truthfully, she wanted nothing more than to go anywhere with Paul, that handsome, caring gentleman. He stood firm on his words and said again,

“Emily, really, I need to make sure you get home. I don’t know who the fuck those bastards were.” Scarlett let out a worried laugh at the irony of the situation and still couldn’t take her eyes off the doorway expecting any moment that the men would emerge and see them. Emily took her arm from him though it pained her to do so.

“Please, Paul, really. You need to get going.” She said urgently. He took a step back and dropped his eyes to the ground, looking hurt. Defeated, he touched David on the shoulder, prompting him to let go of Scarlett’s arm.

“It was lovely meeting you,” was all he spoke before turning and walking off into the dark alley way. Emily rifled around in her purse and pulled out some small bills shoving them into Scarlett’s hand.

“Go. Now!” She said before beginning to turn away.

“What? I’m not leaving you!” Her friend yelled back, grabbing onto her wrist, stopping her movement.

“Scarlett, go! Please. Before they come out.” She pleaded. Even her friend knew that there would be hell to pay if her family found out that she had been running around, getting into trouble with the Shelby girl. With eyes darting between the front door of the Eden Club and Emily’s worried expression Scarlett forced herself to embrace her friend.

“Please be safe.” Emily nodded in response and they both took off into opposite directions. After quickly crossing in front of the building, the younger Shelby tried her best to hail a cab as many former club goers tried to do the same. Every few seconds she found herself looking over her shoulder praying that she wouldn’t turn to find her brother’s red face looking back at her. After a few failed attempts she saw a empty taxi just across the way parked right next to the entrance of the club. If she hurried, she might just be able to make it before her brothers emerged. With a quick decision she bolted as fast as her heels would carry her across the street and made it just steps the the cab door before she felt the shoulder of a much larger man connect with her own. As she was shoved back onto the hood of the cab she couldn’t help but shout,

“watch where yer’ fucking goin!” Just as any other Shelby would. She watched in anger as that very man climbed into the cab himself and the car began to drive away forcing her to move back onto the side walk. Collecting herself and still cursing the man under her breath she only made it a few steps from her place in front of the club before she heard her name called from behind her.

It was John. The word pierced her soul like a knife. Without thinking, she swung around to see him standing only about 10 feet behind her as Thomas and Arthur filed out of the door. Without a second to reconsider, she ran. Though slowed down by her shoes and the lingering effects of alcohol, she carried herself briskly down the street.

“Emily Lenora Shelby!” She heard Arthur roar from behind her. Continuing down the sidewalk shoving between the still clearing crowd she did not stop. Just before she reached the nearest intersection a strong hand gripped her shoulder and spun her around causing her to stumble. She was caught by her oldest brother’s hands of either shoulder lightly shaking her to emphasize each word as they came from his red, blood splattered face.

“What the fuck are you doing here? Are you bloody mental?” She squinted to shield herself from the yelling as she put her hands to his chest to push him away. He wasn’t planning on letting her go lest she run again until he felt the hand of Tom guide him away from the younger girl. She almost preferred the outright rage of Arthur over the chilling coldness of Thomas, at least with the former, his true intentions were always clear. John soon arrived behind the men and took to consoling Arthur while Thomas pushed the girl to side of the road. Unwilling, she attempted to hold her ground against the man though a stronger grip on her upper arm and a stern look from his piercing eyes encouraged her to comply. She kept her head low has he was still catching his breath from the conflict and subsequent jog to catch his fleeing sister. Finally, in a low, gruff voice, he spoke.

“In the club, ye?” She nodded her head but still wouldn’t meet the man’s eyes. Instead, she peered past him to see John and Arthur leaned in close to one another talking. Arthur waving his hands around like a lunatic while John tries to calm him down. Out of all her brothers, her and John butted heads the most. Maybe it was the age difference, sitting at just enough years to give them not much in common but enough to argue about. Though, when it was all said and done, she knew John would have her back just as much, if not more, than anyone else. She met his eyes in a quick glance before turning back to Tom’s shoes. Now, the more pragmatic Shelby took in a deep breath to gather his thoughts before continuing the conversation with his sister.

“Why? Eh?” He said quieter this time. She couldn’t tell if his low voice was an attempt to deescalate the situation or to intimidate her into telling the truth. Well, the truth as it may be, wasn’t that interesting. Emily shrugged and only spared him a small glance up. She went to the Eden club that evening for the same reason as any other girl of her year would; to have fun.

“You have no business being at those clubs. Getting yourself fucking killed, right?” He said lowering himself to her level, even closer to her face. Her jaw tensed as she thought of a thousand words she could say back to him.

“Everything was fine until you bastards shot up the place.”

“Weren’t you just at the same club, Tom?”

“It’s none of your business what I do.”

Using her better judgment though, she held her tongue. The irony of the situation was not lost on Tommy. He knew that the standard he held for his sister was much different than he held for the men of the family, though he held it steadfast. At the end of the day, he knew Emily was a good girl. Smart, calculated, quick, and usually honest. When the silence hung in the air for too long, he took a gentle hand and guided her face to meet his eyes.

“Don’t scare me like that again.” He said pointedly with his finger pointed at her face. Emily pursed her lips and gave a curt nod before he pulled her in for a quick but firm hug and placed one kiss on the top of her head. Trying to break away from the clutches are her brother once more she took a step away from Thomas and said,

“I’ll see you at home,” before attempting to leave in the opposite direction. He let out a sigh once again and wrapped a strong, possessive hand around her arm once more. His lips parted and he eyebrow went up in astonishment, almost as if he was testing her to defy him once again. She looked in his eyes a moment longer, unwavering, before following him back to the other men. Thomas cleared his throat and released the grasp on the girl before speaking,

“Let’s just go home, shall we.” The four walked in uncomfortable silence back to the car, just over a block away from the fateful scene. As they walked, her oldest brother moved closer to her eventually putting a hand on her upper back and bending down to her level.

“You knows I just want to protect you, right, love?” He offered in a nicer tone than before. Emily knew and nodded a reply.

“I know.”

“It’s just you can’t go running around like that.” Before he could get another sentence out, Thomas called out from the front of the group.

“She knows, brother.” They eventually made it to the Bentley and it was John that opened the door for his sister to enter the back seat. As she took the less-than-sober step up into the vehicle her brother gently pushed her, just to see how unstable she was.

“Acting like a fuckin’ harlot,” John laughed quietly to chastise the younger girl. Quickly, Emily turned to face him hunched over in the car and raised her purse as if she was going to hit him.

“Oi, you fuckin’ bastard!” She seethed. Before the two could go at it Thomas darted a look at them in the rear view mirror and raised his voice in a menacing shout.

“Enough!” Was all it took for the pair to quiet down and sit silently for the rest of the ride home.

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