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damn-stark · 1 year

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Chapter 3 I’d make a deal with god

Chapter 3 of Tragedy at the Miller’s

A/N- I hope you guys like the chapter

Warning- ANGST, violence, death and blood, swearing, long chapter, some fluff :)

Pairing- Joel Miller x daughter!reader, Henry x Fem!reader

Episode- 1x05-1x06 (only the beginning)

(If you want to be tagged let me know!)

————

The street was quiet. And as far as views go, it was the same way as it was in the tunnel, dark and eerie.

The stars overhead were tempting to admire, you felt grateful that you were out of the humid tunnel and breathing fresh air, but the cul-de-sac was too quiet, and you weren’t actually across the river yet. You knew better than to get your hopes up too soon; just like most of what you’ve learned from life, you learned that the hard way.

Yet it seems Henry and Sam don’t quite get that.

Then again how could they know? The farthest they’ve gone out of the city is being in that forest. They only know a small part of what the world is like.

“No,” Henry breaks the silence you had purposely left as you tried to make your way to the bridge. “No one is here. No one’s gonna be here because my plan worked.”

Your dad scoffs in annoyance, “so much goddamn talkin’.”

You look back at Henry over your shoulder and add on too. “We’re not across the river yet, let’s wait to celebrate then.”

“I’m just saying,” Henry continues smugly. “I delivered.”

You smirk faintly and roll your eyes to look back ahead.

“Make this right,” he points out. “Go down the street, embankment behind the last house, and we’re out.”

“So we cross the river and then what?” Ellie asks. “Where ya gonna go?”

You glance over at your dad, and even if it hasn’t been discussed you know that there’s no option but to travel home together now.

At least you hope that’s what he’s thinkin’ too.

“We’re going to Wyoming,” you share and blink to look at your dad for reassurance. “We can go together.”

But as expected when your dad meets your gaze he remains nonchalant. He then peers back at Henry though, and seems to look…unsure. “How about we cross the river and then talk.”

You swallow thickly and look back ahead. Would this really be it?

Ellie notices his look, he reads him like you do and comments on the matter. “Don’t worry he’ll give in. Trust me.”

Trust her?

How long have they been together?

“This is how it goes?” Ellie continues. “He’s like, No, Ellie,” she begins to mock him in a deep voice, causing you to blink in disbelief before you peer back at her. “Never, ever, ever happening.”

Regardless of what uneasiness you felt by his lack of agreeance, what jealousy just sparked, you can’t help but grin in amusement at her teasing.

“And then I’m like,” Ellie continues in her normal voice. “I’m gonna ask you a million more times. And he’s like—”

Before she can finish what she’s saying, she’s suddenly interrupted by the sound of a gunshot whizzing past your ear, and hitting the ground inches away from you.

“Fuck!” Ellie screams, while you cover your ear and throw yourself to the ground, losing that smile.

“Move, move!” Your dad yells and proceeds to grab your arm to yank you off the ground, and push you and Ellie behind a rusted car.

“Y/N,” you hear Henry from the ear that’s not currently ringing. “Are you okay? Did it hit you?”

You groan and shake your head. “No…no,” you pant. “Just went past me.”

“Where fuck is that coming from—”

“Shut up,” your dad cuts Henry off now.

You pull your hand away from your ear as the ringing begins to fade, and look over at your dad peeking past the top of the hood. A gunshot then breaks a car window though, so he ducks his head back down.

“How many?” You ask him.

Your dad shakes his head. “One, I think. I can’t be sure, not from here.”

You swallow thickly and snatch your rifle off your shoulder. You try to suggest a risky idea that comes to mind, but then another gunshot goes off and a hand wraps around your wrist instead.

“Shit,” Henry panics and looks away from the shooter to try and move with Sam at his other hand. “Alright, fuck. Let’s move. Let’s go.”

Without hesitance you yank your arm back and grab his wrist instead to pull him back down. “I’m not leaving my dad. And you can’t just get up like that or you’ll get shot,” you scold him as kindly as you can sound. “Stay down.” You then snap your eyes to your dad and share the idea you had in mind. “I can shoot them, I just need a distraction so he doesn’t end up shooting me.”

A bullet hits the car you’re behind, and your dad lets his gaze linger on you as he thinks about the plan you shared.

You want him to say yes so he’d see that you’re capable, that you’ve changed from that little girl he saw last time, years ago.

However, he shakes his head and sighs.

“Dad—”

“I’ll go,” he cuts you off before you can argue. “You two stay here.” He directs to Ellie and yourself.

“What?” Ellie asks in confusion.

He turns to face Ellie now. “If you don’t move, he’s not gonna hit you,” he tells her, and then looks to you. “I’m gonna go around, try to get in the house through the back, and then I’ll take him out.”

You shake your head and protest. “If you go out there, he’s gonna kill you.”

“It’s dark and he has shit aim. Nobody’s gonna kill me. Besides, I ain’t putting you at risk.”

“You just said—”

“Y/N,” he cuts you off sharply. “Do you trust me?”

You lower your shoulders from their tense position, you let your face soften from its hardened state and nod softly without as much as thinking about it.

Your dad proceeds to pull his gun out and looks to Ellie to speak to her. “If anything happens you stick with her, got it?”

Ellie glances at you and hesitates before returning her gaze to him and nodding in comprehension. After that your dad proceeds to scurry away through the cover of night, making the person in that house try to follow him with their gun to try and shoot him.

And now, while the person is distracted you lift your head over the car's hood to finally take a peek yourself. That’s when you catch only one light reflecting from a window before the bullet hits the ground in front of the car. You proceed to look around at the other houses to see if there were more, but your dad was right it seems to be just one in the house straight ahead.

Just one. Your dad will be fine.

You duck back behind the car and wait. Wait in anticipation. You hold onto your pendant around your neck and wait. A few more bullets go off and hit the objects around you, you wait for them to reload and shoot again, but a longer silence follows now, letting you guess that your dad might have reached the shooter now.

You slowly lift your head and peek out, and luckily this time you see no more reflection. Yet you can’t be assured that your dad has gotten to him, not until you can see him up there giving you all a sign.

However, a few seconds pass of more silence and he doesn’t give you any. Instead you hear one gunshot echo, it doesn’t hit anything nearby it just echoes, meaning one of two things; your dad shot the shooter, or the shooter shot your dad.

You can’t think of losing him just as you reunited, so you’ll go with he’s the one that shot the shooter first.

“It seems your dad got him,” Henry interjects.

You stop fiddling with the pendant and meet his gaze with hope. “Yeah,” you whisper. “I think so too. Let’s just wait until he gives a sign though.”

Henry nods in agreement, and silence follows again. Albeit the silence breaks soon thereafter with a distant scream from your dad. “Run!”

You blink in confusion, and hang your rifle over your shoulder again as you slowly push yourself up to try and get a view of him.

“Run!” Your dad yells again.

Why is he saying that?

And only seconds later is when you begin to hear the distant sounds of engines running. When you snap your eyes ahead you notice headlights down the street, getting larger the closer they get, and brighter as more than one begins to appear.

“Go! Go, go!” You bellow to the group, and push Ellie in front of you so she can get ahead of you so can you run behind her, Henry and Sam.

The closer the leading car gets, the more you hear metal clashing as cars blocking the street get shoved aside. Bullets ring against metal too as your dad tries to shoot the driver of the moving truck, and as Ellie tries to shoot back aimlessly.

You want to shoot at the driver too to at least get that car off your trail, but when you hit the trigger you come out empty since you haven’t given Henry his empty pistol back.

“Fuck,” you grumble. “Fuck. Fuck.”

As Henry and Sam get ahead faster, you mindlessly begin to run past Ellie to try and reach the other end of the street. However, it’s at that moment that you begin to get ahead that you suddenly hear glass clash, brakes then screech before you hear a crash through one of the wooden houses.

You try to look back at the sight, you try to look back even when you hear multiple cars brake behind you, even if it’s one thing you didn’t like to do while running away from dangerous shit, but you remember Ellie had fallen behind, so you look. That’s when you see her on the ground, and multiple people climbing out of their cars.

It’s a fucking risk to go back especially since they all have guns, but you can’t leave her behind, not even if you feel a smidge of jealousy towards her. Maybe giving her the slight cold shoulder is something that you can live with, but leaving her behind is something that would haunt you, so you quickly turn back around on your heels and sprint towards her.

She catches you running at her as she remains stunned on the ground and her eyes brighten before she pushes herself up and then runs at you.

“Come on!” You yell at her. “Come on!”

Ellie quickens her pace as best as she can, and just as you throw your hand out to reach for hers suddenly an explosion goes off at your side, and the force throws you both to the ground.

“Fuck,” you cough out seconds later, and flutter your eyes open, catching a bright raging light now brighten the street. “Fuck.” You snap your head up and see Ellie moving slightly. That fills you with relief over the fact that she isn’t badly hurt. Or at least that’s what it seems like.

“Ellie,” you call out between pants. “Ellie, are you—”

Before you can finish your question though, hands get slapped around your arms and begin to yank off the ground.

“Come on, come on,” someone muffles.

You snap your head back in a panic, but thankfully only see Henry.

“You’re not hurt?” He asks.

You shake your head and get up to your feet. “No, no, I’m okay. Go, help Ellie.”

Henry nods and leaves your side to run to Ellie while you run to Sam behind a car.

“Are you okay?” Sam immediately signs to you worringly once you’re ducked close to him.

You nod quickly and redirect his question. “You okay?”

Sam nods, and both of your gazes lift as Henry and Ellie join you ducked behind the car.

“You okay?” You ask Ellie as she fixes herself between Sam and you.

She nods and mumbles, “yeah.”

Multiple footsteps now step closer, and commands get thrown out that make you stiffen. “He’s up there! Two and two! Around the back, take him out!”

“Fuck!” You hiss. There’s no way to take them out without getting caught or leaving yourself vulnerable. Fuck.

“Dead end, Henry!” You hear a woman shout—Kathleen most likely. “Gonna step out? Save us some time?”

Henry of course doesn’t answer, so Kathleen continues.

“No? That’s alright. Doesn’t matter.”

You rest your head against the car and try to think of some plan to get out of this position. Yet, Henry then interjects. “I’ll come out!”

You quickly snap your head over to him and shake it in protest. “No,” you whisper. “No, Henry no.”

Said man meets your gaze and lets his eyes linger on you. “Just let the girl and kids go!” He shouts.

You keep shaking your head in hopes he’d change his mind.

“No,” Kathleen retorts. “Sorry. The little girl is with the man who killed Bryan. And Sam, and the other girl, well they’re with you.”

You shift your eyes away and scoff.

What the fuck?! What the fuck is her problem? Wanting to kill you, you understand, but the kids?

“You don’t understand!” Henry rebuttals.

But Kathleen doesn’t listen. “But I do,” she counters. “I know why you did what you did. But did you ever stop to think that maybe he was supposed to die?”

What the hell?

You shake your head and curl your lip in anger and disgust.

“He’s just a fucking kid!” Henry yells back.

“Well, kids die, Henry,” Kathleen says without an ounce of sympathy in her tone. “They die all the time. You think the whole world revolves around him? That he’s worth everything? Well, this is what happens when you fuck with fate.”

“Get ready to take him and run,” Henry blurts at you quietly.

You look over at him and see him looking at you. “No,” you rebuttal. “No.”

“Y/N,” he insists. “Yes.”

You try to look angry at his stupid choice, but instead you look hurt.

“Henry,” you whisper, but he then cups your cheek and cuts you off.

“Please. Do it.”

You stare into his eyes and want to argue, you want to yell at him for wanting to risk his life like this, for wanting you to take Sam away without leaving with him, but…you don’t. You trust him and understand this one need, you give in for him, for the love you already harbor.

“Fine,” you whisper and look over at Sam, noticing Ellie take his hand for you.

“It’s time, Henry,” Kathleen interjects. “Enough!”

You look back at Henry and meet his gaze, seeing him hesitate for a few seconds. So you reach for his trembling hand and give it a gentle squeeze. He proceeds to let his eyes linger in your hurt gaze for a moment longer before he averts his gaze, and puts his head back to pant and then whisper to himself, “okay,” before he stands up and raises his hands while he slowly steps towards the aggressor.

“It ends the way it ends,” Kathleen says after a few seconds of silence, and cocks her gun before she shouts another command. “Grab the girl he’s with too, I want him to see her die.”

You gasp and freeze since you know she only means you.

“No!” Henry shouts. “Wait, no! Not her! She had nothing to do with it! It was just me!”

Footsteps begin to approach, and your heart begins to race, your hands begin to shake, but you put on a brave face and roll your eyes to the side to glare at the rugged man approaching you.

“Touch them and I’ll kill you,” you grimace.

The man tries to grab you, but you stand up by yourself and step away from him. “Don’t you dare,” you snap and raise your hands.

“Come on,” the man orders and points the gun forward.

“No,” Kathleen adds now as you get forced to stand by Henry. “She might have not had anything to do with it, but you care about her.”

You drift your eyes to Henry, and end up meeting his angry and worried gaze.

“It’s okay,” you mouth to him with an assuring look and smile. “It’s okay.” You drift your gaze back to Kathleen and shoot her an unbothered glare.

There’s only one man next to you, the others are standing a bit too far to react too fast. They wouldn’t let one of their own die would they? They cared so much about the one person your dad killed, so….

Quickly before anyone can react to you, you fist your left hand, and quickly swing your fist up to punch the man’s forearm to make his aim fall from your head.

“Wait!” you hear Kathleen yell as guns point at you now.

You then quickly spin around and ram your fist in his throat to leave him incapacitated while you snatch his gun from him, and then use your foot to swing it under him to sweep him off the floor.

When the guy hits the ground you instantly point his gun at his head, and step on the back of his hand before slowly glaring up at Kathleen.

She looks stunned, so you take this time to look over at Henry, catching his own shocked and awed look.

“Come close and I’ll shoot him,” you threaten all of them. “Your revenge can’t mean more than your man’s life now does it?” You taunt Kathleen with a sly smirk.

Kathleen moves her gun to point at you and parts her lips to say something, but she then cuts herself off as the sound of rubble and creaking metal steals everyone’s attention, including Henry’s and yours.

At first it doesn’t seem like much, just the ground beneath the truck crumbling due to the explosion. But it’s from that same hole that the truck falls into that lets out the sound of distant groaning and growling. Infected….

You remove your foot off the man under you and help up so he can run away. You then snap your head over to Henry, and he meets your gaze to share a knowing look since no one can deny the sounds.

Yet before either of you can run away dozens, no, hundreds of infected climb out from the ground and don’t waste a second to charge at everyone that is formed in front of the hole. They all try to shoot at the runners and the clickers that charge at them, but there’s too many, too many overwhelm them immediately—It’s so many of them climbing out of the ground.

You’ve seen hordes before, you’ve run from dozens of infected before, but never like this, never from one’s running out of a fire pit as if they were spawn out of hell.

The sight freezes you out of fear, leaves you vulnerable, until Henry runs at you now that the men focused their attention away from him and you, and breaks you from your stupor.

“Come on!” He yells, and you both run to the kids still ducked behind the car.

“You have my gun, I have the man’s,” you tell Henry as you duck and hide with the kids. “Take Sam and go, I’ll take Ellie and be right behind you.”

Shooters approach the car you’re hidden behind and begin shooting at infected climbing on the car. More fall at your side as bullets come from the house where your dad is in. And before long, as more infected approach, you all bolt away from behind the car to run to your dad.

However, more infected swarm the area and get in your way, so you lose sight of Henry and Sam quickly as they don’t stop running. You on the other hand use the man’s gun and shoot at the clickers and runners that charge at Ellie and you.

“Go!” You yell at Ellie. “Go, I have you covered!”

Ellie runs on ahead, and you kill any threats that are near her. Once there’s no infected ahead of you, you follow after Ellie as she runs towards a van nearby that has a window slightly opened.

A clicker closeby hears her running footsteps however and tries to charge at her, but you quickly stop in your steps to shoot it and then move the aim to shoot the other infected that can be a possible threat.

“I’ll open the door for you!” Ellie yells back as she approaches the car.

You watch her get inside through the window, and immediately more infected try to reach her through the windows; they pound and claw. You clear as many of them as you can until your bullets run out and you have no choice but to throw the gun out and use your own rifle.

Yet that has few bullets in it too, luckily your dad helps you take out as many as he can around the car and you, while Ellie crawls to the door to try and open it for you from the inside. And when you turn to grab the door handle, suddenly a stalker tackles you down to the ground.

“Oof.” You breathe out as you slam to the ground, and end up losing your gun.

The stalker tries to bite down at you, but you quickly throw your head to the side, and throw your hands up to keep it away. You want to kick it back and use your knife, but then a bullet goes through its head and it falls limb, letting you crawl back away from its corpse. You then look up at the window and give your dad a thankful nod.

He nods back, so after that, before more infected come and swarm you, you get up and find your gun first, before you face the car to get Ellie.

Neverthless, at that moment as you turn you notice a different kind of infected. It’s larger than others, tall, and plump. It has fungus coming out of its head like a clicker, but this one also has fungus growing out of its entire body. It’s…terrifying. It’s fucking horrifying, but you don’t freeze this time, you can’t. You just push its presence to the back of your head and face the car again. That’s when you see a child clicker climb in the same car Ellie is hiding in.

You know your dad has you covered from any infected around you, so you quickly throw the door open and hastily help Ellie out of the car as the clicker flips over the seats to try and reach her.

“Come on!” You urge her after you close the car door. “We’re almost there!” You grab her wrist to run towards your dad together, but she quickly stops you and points out.

“It’s Sam and Henry!”

You follow where she points to, and see the both of them under a car trying to kick away the clickers that are trying to grab them. However, there’s too many infected in your way, too many for you and Ellie to take down without getting swarmed….

Wait! That’s right...

You look up at your dad at the same time Ellie does, and you both speechlessly ask him to cover you with your looks alone.

He’s hesitant at first, but he gives you both an assuring nod, letting you both then run towards Henry and Sam.

“You help Sam, I’ll get the one on Henry!” You tell Ellie as you maneuver past bodies of the infected your dad was killing in your path.

“Okay, yeah!” She replies through pants.

You narrow your eyes on the clicker that has Henry by his feet, ignoring the car that races past behind you and quickening your pace to get closer.

Just as you approach Henry, the clicker drags him out of hiding, it wants to bite him, but you quickly lift your rifle and shoot it right in its head, killing it.

“Come on,” you tell Henry urgently as you help him to his feet. “You’re okay,” you assure him before you turn on your heels, noticing Ellie managed to get the clicker off Sam, but she can’t stab her knife deep enough to kill it. So you lift your gun and help her kill it, letting her then help Sam off the ground.

“Go, go!” You yell at everyone.

Quickly, before more infected can come towards you, you all bolt towards the house your dad is inside of. You climb up the yard hand in hand with Henry, you’re close to getting out, but then Kathleen stops you all.

“Stop!”

Henry pushes you all back behind him to block you all from her gun, but you still raise your rifle to try and use your last bullet on her.

Albeit that’s when you notice the child clicker from before sneaking up from behind her, and lower your gun instead. Kathleen blinks in confusion, and follows everyone’s line of gaze. But, she notices the clicker too late and it tackles her to the ground before she can react.

It hits her repeatedly, and overpowers her, all she can do is scream.

As bad as she was, that fate is still horrible.

“This way now!” You hear your dad yell, breaking everyone from their shock. You then look over at him in shock and watch him pushing Ellie and Sam towards the bridge just behind the houses.

“Move!” He yells and turns you around so you can keep moving behind Henry. He follows last, making sure no one or nothing follows you from the bloodbath that was now the cul-de-sac.

——

*LATER*

“Pew…pew. As the Raven 01 approaches the red planet….”

You put the paper your food was wrapped in down and drag your feet back against your chest to continue listening to Ellie reading with Sam.

Compared to all the terrified screams, all the infected growling and groaning, all the gunshots, and burning flames that had filled your ears on your way to the motel, listening to her read in the silence of night was calming and peaceful.

“You think they’ll be okay?” Henry asks out loud, breaking the silence that was between him, your dad and you.

“Yeah,” your dad nods. “I think.”

You hug your legs and look over at him as he continues.

“It’s easier when you’re a kid anyway….” He pauses and glances at you before looking at Henry. “You don’t have anybody else relying on you. That’s the hard part.”

Being scared isn’t easy, not knowing how to help because you’re young isn't easy, but he’s also right.

“Well,” Henry interjects. “I guess we’re doing a good job then.”

Your dad nods softly in agreement, and you can’t help but smile down at your knees since they seem to be getting along more now.

“What’s that comic book say?” Your dad asks. “Endure and survive?”

You lift your gaze to look at the Savage Starlight comic book Sam and Ellie are reading, and scoff softly before you nod. “Endure and survive,” you repeat.

“That shits redundant,” Henry retorts, making you smile in amusement.

“Yeah,” your dad agrees. “It’s not great.”

You shake your head and laugh softly. “No.”

Savage Starlight was a comic book you often saw lying around, but you never got into them so much. You always enjoyed more of uh…romance, some horror, thrillers, comedy, and fantasy.

“Look, Henry,” you hear your dad continue, making you snap your eyes to him and sit up as you’re filled with curiosity. “I don’t know exactly how I’m gettin’ to Wyoming. I’m probably walkin’. But you know if you want to.”

Your smile grows wider, and your gaze grows softer as you understand your fathers invitation to Henry.

“Yeah,” Henry agrees. “Yeah. Yeah, I think it’d be nice for Sam to have a friend. I’ll tell him in the morning. New day, new start.”

You’re filled with joy now, and that fear of rejection washes away….

At least you hope your dad is also referring to you.

“What about me?” You interject to double check. Even if you might know the answer.

Your dads eyes snap to you and he scoffs before he retorts. “How do you think we’re getting there?”

You smirk and then glance at Henry sitting on a table beside you to share a soft smile with him.

“I don’t why you had to ask,” your dad mumbles.

You then look at the kids, and notice Sam fiddling with the pendant you had given him.

“Just makin’ sure,” you say and drag your legs down. “Maybe y’all wanted to leave me behind….” Wait…you catch that comment the moment it comes out. It’s wrong…it seems like a jab directed to your dad, but you didn’t mean it that way.

You snap your eyes over to him in hopes he didn’t take it that way, but you can’t tell, he’s looking away, his lips are formed in the same serious line. Fuck. Fuck….

Let’s just hope he didn’t take it badly.

You swallow thickly and look ahead, noticing Henry in the room with the kids, and Sam still holding the pendant. So choosing to just brush off your concern so as to not overthink about it, you get up and walk in the room, seeing Sam walk to the other bed now.

“Goodnight,” you sign to him as he notices you walk in.

He offers you a faint smile and redirects your comment. “Goodnight.”

Henry walks back in the room, and before you can follow him you check on Sam since he was holding the pendant. “Are you feeling okay?” You question him.

Sam nods in assurance, but you can notice his frown and a…sad look in his eyes.

“Are you sure?” You press.

Sam nods again. Perhaps it was just the events of tonight then.

“Okay,” you continue to sign to him. “No story tonight?”

Sam shakes his head. “Tomorrow,” he signs back.

You smile and nod in agreement. “Sounds good,” you sign. “Goodnight.”

Sam offers you a faint smile as a response, and before you can leave the room you glance over at Ellie and offer her a very faint smile that’s a bit forced. Maybe she’ll grow on you soon enough. Once your dad explains why they’re traveling together. Hopefully.

Anyway, once you close the room door behind you, rather than sitting back down, and since there was no other room in this curtain room you’re camping in. And since you don’t want your dad hearing your conversation with Henry, you meet your partner's gaze and point to the exit.

Henry doesn’t seem to understand though, so you point to the door again. But nothing.

You roll your eyes and just break the silence. “I’m going to get some fresh air before bed.” You nod slowly, and before anyone can say anything you make sure you have your knife with you before you walk over to the door, and push the table that’s blocking the exit to the side before walking out. Hopefully, Henry understands, and hopefully your dad doesn’t walk out. As funny as that would be, it’s not who you want to talk to.

Regardless, as you wait you lean against the railing and look up at the shining stars painted on the night sky. You smile up at them and watch them twinkle. The door opens, and you quickly peer back, seeing Henry walk out. Thankfully.

“Hey,” you greet him in a whisper.

He closes the door and walks to your side first before returning a greeting. “Hey.”

You look back at the sky and continue to watch the stars. “You know there’s a way to navigate around using the stars.” You share with him.

Henry hums. “I didn’t know,” he says. “Do you know how to?”

You nod and drop your gaze to look at him, noticing he was already looking at you. “Yeah, I do,” you admit.

Henry smiles and scoffs. “Of course you do.”

You laugh softly. “Well it’s kind of convient you know, very helpful..”

“Is that why you like to stare at them all the time?” He asks.

You let out a small breath and shake your head. “No. I just like to watch them, it’s fascinating really; space, all of it.”

Henry hums and averts his gaze, he grabs the rusted railing and brings a short silence.

You notice his smile faltering, so you quickly probe. “What is it?”

Henry gently hits the wood and lifts his gaze to meet yours. “Thank you,” he says. Again. “What you did back there, to that guy…” he swallows thickly and goes shy. “No one has ever done that before. You know usually when things go down like that people scatter to protect themselves…I’m guilty of that, but you…” he pauses and his eyes soften, whilst you now feel caught by surprise. “…you stuck around all three times,” Henry continues. “You shouldn't have, but you did, and you saved me and Sam. Thank you.”

Your smile widens and trembles, and your heart races inside your chest, but you grab his hand and offer him a soft look. “You were worth it,” you redirect sweetly. “All of it. And when it’s worth it there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to protect the ones I love.”

Henry looks caught off guard for a few seconds, but he quickly manages to shoot you a smile before he cups your cheek to pull you in for a kiss. A sweet and passionate one that makes you wrap your arms around his neck. That lets you move in sync with another, and makes you press yourself against the wall next to the door.

Henry seems to be taken back by your passion, but he just smiles and goes with it, letting himself get swept up by you. The only reason you pull back is to catch your breath.

“You know I think you were right,” he says between pants. “I think your dad—”

“Please,” you cut him off and press your finger against his lips. “Don’t talk about my dad,” you whisper and giggle. “Not right now.”

Henry snorts and nods. “Right,” he mumbles, letting you drop your hand back to your side—“but we should get some sleep, I imagine we have a long day of walking tomorrow.”

You smile sweetly and lean in to whisper against his lips. “Yeah I know, but why not stay out here a while longer, hm? Maybe find a more discreet place to go take this further.”

Henry gapes and blinks rapidly. “I,” he breathes out and shakes his head.

You grin and cup his jaw. “It’s okay if you don’t want to,” you assure him. “I’m fine just being with you here.”

Henry shakes his head again and quickly throws out his response, “No I want to, I do. Do you?”

You grin softly and press your hand against his chest, feeling his heart racing.

“Don’t worry,” you assure him as you hold his gaze. “You’ll be okay. You’re with me.” You pull back, and drop your hand to your side to grab his, and pull him down the stairs with you. “Come on!” You grin happily.

——

*THE NEXT DAY*

“Sarah,” you whisper and slowly walk further inside her dark room.

She hums and shifts on her bed. “Hm?”

“I'm scared,” you whisper. “There’s something in my room.”

Her bed creaks and thanks to the moonlight reflecting inside through her window by her bed, you see her sitting up and rubbing her eyes. “Okay,” she mumbles and slides over to the other side of her bed. “Come on.”

You smile with relief and run over to the bed to climb on and lay beside her.

“What was in your room?” She asks as she lays her head back down on the pillow.

You pull the blankets over you and flip to your side to face her. “A…monster, I think.”

She smiles weakly and wraps her arm around you. “Maybe you just heard dad snoring.” She mumbles.

You sigh unsurely and watch her close her eyes to try and drift back to sleep.

“Do you want me to tell you a story?” She asks quietly.

You perk up and grin softly. “Just one,” you agree.

“Okay, well—”

“Ahh! Ahhh!”

Suddenly the dream you were having is interrupted coldly by the sound of distressed yelling that makes you gasp, and sit right up out of instinct.

However, it’s as you sit up that the door is slammed open and Ellie is thrown to the floor by….by Sam growling, groaning, and snapping his teeth as he tries to claw at her. She tries to push him off, but she can’t fight him. Or she really doesn’t want to…

But why?

Why?

Why is he acting so violent, why is he trying to bite her? Why is making those noises?

You sit there wide eyed, frozen by horrifying fear that inside, deep inside your heart you understand why it grows so furiously. You can identify what those sounds coming out of Sam mean, you’ve heard them what feels like all your life. You know…But you don’t want to accept it. You don’t want to accept his sudden fate.

He’s so young, so innocent, so sweet and kind. It can’t…it can’t be true. It can’t be happening again…

He can’t…

“Nope, nope, nope,” you hear Henry repeat, and when you look up you see him on his feet, pointing your dads own gun at him as he slowly stands up.

“Joel!” Ellie cries out.

Sam is going to bite her…he’s going to bite her…

You try to reach for your own knife since you know you’re out of bullets. You want to help her before it takes her too…you want to help your dad and Henry, but you can’t move a muscle, your fear paralyzes you as well as your denial.

You can only keep watching…just like when…Sarah died. You can only watch.

Henry shoots at your dad, you can hear the bullet, and his yell even after you cover your ears. You can feel it carve the ground, but that still doesn’t make you move.

“Joel!” Ellie cries again as Sam doesn’t stop.

He’s going to bite her. Sam he’s…

And suddenly there’s another gunshot, but this time rather than feeling it hit the ground, you hear a thump, and then silence. Deafening silence.

Finally as Sam stays still on the floor, you slowly get up and take a step towards him. You notice the dark blood spilling out and staining the ground, you still wait…You wait for him to get up. He has to. It can’t be happening again…he couldn’t have turned. He has to wake up.

You slowly put your hands down. “Sam?” You call out quietly even though you know he wouldn't have heard you either way, it’s just a desperate attempt.

“Ellie,” you hear your dad call as the girl sits there in disbelief at what just happened. “Are you okay?” You hear him ask her.

You worry if she’s bit, you want to ask if she’s okay too, but all you can focus on is Sam, you wait if he’ll move at least his chest to show he’s breathing.

Your dad tries to move toward Ellie, but he comes to a quick stop as Henry points his gun at him. He’s just shocked, that’s it.

Thinking he won’t do anything to you, you take another step towards Sam.

However, that's when you hear an abrupt stop. “No…don’t.”

You snap your gleaming eyes towards Henry, and see him pointing his gun at you now. Your dad quickly notices his new aim, and slowly puts his arm across you to try and shield you.

Henry’s just shocked. He’s just…shocked.

“Easy, easy, easy,” your dad tries to calm Henry down whilst he puts his hands out to try and grab the gun in Henry’s hand.

“Henry,” you call out quietly.

Said man's eyes drift to you, and tears immediately fill his eyes at the sight of you. “What did I do?” He asks you.

You try to tell him that he helped Ellie, that his brother was going to hurt her, but you can’t…you can’t muster a single word since you’re still in denial yourself.

“What did I do?” Henry asks again and keeps his gun pointed at you. “What-what-what did I do?” His eyes drift to his brother still on the floor, and you follow his line of gaze, realizing now—no, accepting at that moment as he lay still, as more blood spilled out of him, that Sam was gone.

It hits you like a bullet to the flesh, so suddenly. The realization shakes your entire core, making that painful anguish that you had pushed back bust through that shield of denial.

He’s gone. Sam’s gone. He was infected and now he’s gone.

“Sam?” The sound of Henry’s broken voice snaps your watery gaze back to him.

“Henry, gimme the gun?” Your dad pleads softly.

“Henry,” you call out quietly through tears. “Henry, please.”

Said man’s eyes drift to you and your dad, but he then focuses solely on you.

“Gimme the gun,” your dad continues to say. “Gimme the gun.”

“Henry,” you interject in a brittle voice, and take a step towards him to try and take the gun. “Just give me the gun, okay? Let’s talk.”

Henry holds your gaze for a moment and blinks before looking at Sam again. And finally he begins to lower his hand.

You try to encourage him, “yeah just—” but you cut yourself off immedietly as you see him move his hand to now point the gun at himself instead. You know what he intends to do, you yell at him to stop, but a gunshot goes off, causing you to quickly cover your ears. Yet you still hear a loud thump hit the floor.

Now…you just stand there, looking at the now empty space where Henry had one stood. You stand there frozen and quiet. You stand there panting, and with dry eyes.

Your dad stands before you, he talks to you, you see his mouth moving, but you don’t register his muffles that go through your covered ears because you can’t accept this now. If you keep looking at the wall, it’s like nothing ever happened. If you keep your eyes on the wall you won’t have to accept it, if you stand here time will stop….

You hoped anyway. You wished.

“Y/N! Look at me, baby,” you hear your dad yell at you, making you snap your eyes to him before you slowly drift your eyes down to see….

Oh god.

Oh god….

You drop your hands from your ears, and gasp as it feels like the air in your lungs is knocked out of you at the sight of his lifeless body, at the feeling of realization slamming into you, piercing your very heart now and shattering it and your entire being.

Henry’s gone. He’s gone just like Sam. They’re both gone….Henry’s gone….

But maybe…

“Henry?” You call out desperately as you watch him, hoping he’ll wake up. “Henry?” You call out again and step away from your dad to walk to Henry. “Henry, please,” your voice quivers as he remains unresponsive.

“Henry,” you mewl and fall on your knees beside him, on the pool of blood that now surrounds his upper body. “Henry.” You whisper and slowly reach for him to turn him face up. That’s when you see his lifeless eyes, the blood that now stains his face, and the tear stains on his cheeks. And it hits you again, but now it’s more powerful, more painful.

“No,” you cry and shake your head. “No, please Henry,” you sob and cradle his face for a moment before you cradle his body. “No, no….” You drop your forehead on his and shakily gasp for air as you can’t stop crying. “Please…please…someone help me….Henry…don’t do this to me, please.”

A hand falls on your shoulders, making you gasp and look back.

“Y/N,” your dad whispers.

“Daddy,” you mutter, “you have to help me. Please. Please.”

“Oh baby…”

You shake your head as he cradles your face in his hands.

“Dad,” you cry out desperately. “Please!”

He shakes his head, and tears fill his eyes only because he sees the heartbreak in your eyes as you hold your partner's dead body in your arms.

“He’s gone,” your dad says.

No.

No…

You pull your face away from your dads hold to look back at Henry, and lay your head on his chest.

He’s gone and there’s nothing you can do about it. Again. Someone else is gone and you can’t do anything about it. So you close your eyes and cry against him out of defeat, heartbreak, and agony.

“We can bury them,” your dad says softly. “Come on.”

Slowly he takes his body from you, and you let him, and just sit there. He takes Sam’s body soon thereafter, you can’t tell when, time just loses meaning, it all blends together.

Eventually you make it outside to where your dad and Ellie had buried Henry and Sam. You don’t know how, or when exactly you walked out, but feel the chilly breeze of the morning hit you, you feel the brightness burn your retinas for a moment until you grow accustomed to the brightness.

You see them no longer, only dirt over two unmarked graves. You feel only tears roll down your cheeks, and that agony in your heart as you realize you’ll never see them again, you won’t go to Jackson together.

You sit between their graves and just lose your gaze on the grass brushing against the wind. You sit there cold and hopeless. You sit there even as Ellie puts Sam’s board down on his grave, as you hear her speak to your dad once she’s up and behind you.

“Which ways west?” She asks.

There’s silence before there’s retreating footsteps. You were moving on, you had to, there was no one else to wait for now, there was no one else to go with now.

“Y/N,” your dad breaks the silence. “I have to tell you something…”

You keep your eyes lost on the grass, and wait for him to continue.

“Ellie…she’s immune…”

Is this some joke? Some sick fucking joke?

You gasp and peer at him over your shoulder to shoot him a disgusted glare.

“Dont,” you croak because of all of your crying. “Don’t fucking joke.”

He stands there with a serious, deadpanned look on his face. “I’m not,” he assures you. “It’s true, I saw her get bit and she didn’t turn. Do you really think I would joke about that?”

You blink in disbelief and look back at the grass ahead of you.

Joining the fireflies built a hope in you that maybe there was a chance for the world to get better. It was hard not to believe what they believed in, for a hope for humanity. A hope that could’ve saved so many lost friends…that could’ve saved Sam. So hearing this now coming out of your dads lips isn’t completely unbelievable, not to you.

“That’s why I need to take her to your uncle Tommy,” he continues. “So he can take her to the Fireflies.”

So he? He?

As if a bucket of cold water had just been dumped on you, now you’re hit with a cold reminder, your anger towards your father. Those words he just spoke trigger it, the heartbreak you bear now only fuels it, blinding you with rage.

“So what?” You scoff, and stand up to spin around and face him with that burning anger in your watery eyes. “You’re going to dump another one of your burdens on uncle Tommy? Just like you did me?”

Your dad shakes his head and mutters out, “you’re just upset. Let’s go, we can talk about it later.”

You shake your head and step towards him to continue. “I have every right to be upset! I have every right to be mad at you, you left me,” you whisper and feel angry tears now roll down your cheeks. “You…you!” You cry out and hit his chest.

“Y/N,” he mutters and averts his gaze.

You swallow back the thick lump that grows in your throat and spat back. “Why? Hm? All I ever did was love you, even if you were mean—”

“I kept you alive,” he cuts you off bluntly with his eyes barely on you.

“Yes,” you scoff. “But I still needed my dad….” Your voice quivers. “And…you still left…Why? W-was it because I…was never good enough for you? I’m sorry….I’m sorry I wasn’t the perfect daughter, I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough then. I’m sorry I wasn’t worthy enough for you to stay with me, for you to take me with you.” You sniffle and wipe away your tears. “I'm sorry I wasn't important enough for you to call me throughout all those years. I waited,“ you mumble. “I did. But no.” You shake your head and wipe your tears away.

“I just hope you don’t hurt that girl the same you did me,” you continue. “I hope she’s the daughter I never was for you.” You scoff and hit your hands against your thighs.

“No, don’t say that,” he interjects. “And don’t pit your anger against her.”

You let out a shaky sigh and tilt your head down slightly as you keep your eyes on him. “I’ll take you to uncle Tommy,” you add bluntly. “But that’s it. I’m done with you after that.” You shove past him and pick up your backpack and rifle off the floor. You make it to the street but stop to add one more thing as you see Ellie a few feet away waiting for you and your dad to catch up.

“I won’t pit my anger against her. I just hope you do better.”

——

*A MONTH LATER*

It was quiet. Not outside; you can hear the birds chirping their morning song as the sun slowly rises, you can hear Ellie shuffling on the ground restlessly. It’s quiet inside your mind.

At first, those first few days after, your mind raced with different possibilities, denial, different outcomes…hopes. It was loud with anger, but now it’s quiet. Now as you hold the cold gold sun pin in your fingers your mind is just absolutely quiet, all there is is a picture of him, Henry, in your head.

There’s a coldness in your heart. Another gap missing that he and Sam left. It makes those nights you had to sleep, sleepless, restless. Like now. Your dad let you sleep, but you couldn’t keep your eyes closed, you couldn’t get that….that scene of a month ago out of your head. Everytime you close your eyes you see Henry and Sam, see them lying on the ground with blood around them. Their deaths replay in your head over and over again until you open your eyes. So it’s easier just to stay awake and study the sun pin in the silence….

Then again it’s not so quiet outside….Ellie keeps moving. You flip to your other side and the first thing that you notice is your dad passed out…

What a damn good watchman. Old man.

Pft.

You drift your eyes across from you and see Ellie has her back turned to you. She’s still for like a minute before she moves again.

Maybe she’s thinking about them too? Because she can’t be asleep with all that moving.

You haven’t talked to her since it happened—no, lies you did but it was just like a few words, “do you want some of my food?” “Do you want to help me keep watch?”. She was always eager for both, but beside that nothing else was said. And you do know what grief is, you know how it feels, she may not have known them long, but Sam and her still bonded, their deaths were still…impactful…

It’s not like your dad has talked about it anyway. It’s not like he would.

“Hey,” you whisper and stretch your foot out to tap her. “Are you awake?”

There’s a second of silence before Ellie slowly looks back and looks a bit disbelieved. “Yes,” she mutters.

You spare one glance at your dad to make sure he’s still sleeping before you continue. “Do you want to go for a walk? He passed out.”

Ellie pulls down her sweater and looks down to see for herself before she meets your gaze and answers hesitantly. “Sure.”

You smile softly and tuck the pin in your pocket before you get up, and very carefully grab your backpack and gun off the ground. Ellie grabs her gun and leaves her backpack where it is. As you head out she just does one more double take to make sure your dad is still sleeping, before she runs over to catch up to you heading to the windmill that’s across the small abandoned farmhouse you were camping at for the night.

“So,” Ellie rolls out with a slow head nod. “Can I hold your gun?”

You hold onto your backpack strap and look over at her with slight curiosity. “Do you know how to use it?” You ask her.

Ellie shakes her head. “I can be taught though.”

You hum and look back at the windmill you're walking to and give her a proposition. “How about you can keep watch through the scope. Feel the weight first.”

“It’s better than nothing,” she groans.

You scoff softly in amusement and open the wooden door to let her walk in first, before you close the door and follow her up the creaky wooden stairs against the wall, until you reach a platform that’s put against the window that overlooks what was once a secluded farm.

“Here,” you interject, and put your gun down to sit on your knees so you can take off your poncho and lay it on the dirty ground. “You can sit there.” You then proceed to take off your jacket and lay it over your spot. “And I’ll sit here.” You mumble and sit back down.

Ellie looks down and hesitates. “We’re already dirty anyway.”

You shrug. “But now you won’t be cold, and you’ll be comfy.” You click your tongue.

Ellie spares you a quick glance before she sits, she wants to reach for your gun, but she suddenly stops and goes wide eyed.

“Oh my god,” she gasps and crawls closer to you. “You have tattoos! No way!” She grins and studies the tattoos on your arm. “That’s so cool.”

You smile softly, and turn your body so she can see the crescent moon tattoo shaped from curved lines; it almost looks like it was a smoke moon. She then hovers her fingers over the small stars that are scattered around the area, and then looks down at the falling angel woman. But lastly she takes her time on one in particular, a small one on your forearm.

“What’s this?” She asks and points to it.

You look down and giggle. “What did you think it is?”

Ellie scoffs and smirks. “A dick?”

You smirk. “It’s supposed to be a middle finger. My uncle Tommy and I got drunk for my 21st birthday. He wanted to give me a tattoo so he drew a hand giving the middle finger, but he, uh,” you snort. “Failed, so now I will always have a little dick tattoo.”

Ellie snickers and sits back down with your rifle in hand.

You move your arm and twist your body to show her the back tattoo. “I also have this one.” You point out.

Ellie shifts back around, and you give her a few seconds before you turn to sit back.

“That’s so cool!” She says with a smile. “I want one.”

You glance over the golden grass and smile softly. “My friend, she does tattoos. Perhaps when you’re older she can do something on you. Just don’t get it while drunk.”

“Why stars and a moon?” Ellie probes.

You shrug softly. “I liked it, and I like the Galaxy, the moon, everything.”

Ellie turns her head, and you see a wider smile. “Really? That's nice, I do too. Or more the aspect of going to space.”

You grin and look at her. “Really? That’d be cool. Like, uh,” you snap your fingers until you remember the name. “Like Sally Ride.”

Ellie's eyes go wider. “Yes!” She exclaims. “Exactly like her! Like if I could choose a way to die, I would die up there in space, after I flew up there of course.”

“Of course,” you mumble and stare up at the sweet colored sky as the sun slowly overtakes the night sky. “I mean it would be a very cool way to die. No oxygen, but a view of earth and the vacuum of space.”

Ellie follows your line of gaze and smiles softly as she nods slowly. “Yeah,” she whispers.

Silence follows after that. Deafening, but peaceful silence.

Yet that peace soon begins to turn to gloom the more the sun rises and you remember why you’re here.

“Do you,” you interject, but pause to look down at your fingers not covered by your gloves. “Do you want to talk about what happened last month?” You can’t even mention their names. Not yet. Not without it aching.

Ellie drops her gaze to focus on the fields of grass, and lets out a deep exhale before she shakes her head. “No…not really. Not yet.”

You hum softly. “That’s alright,” you assure her. “Well I’m here, you know, 24/7. If you want to talk.”

It may not be a lot to offer, but it’s those very words that meant a lot to you when you were told them by your uncle, Maria, or your friends. Yes, you haven’t been the most welcoming, or the nicest person with her, but at first you were slightly jealous, then you were too sad, but after that argument with your dad that jealousy had faded. Call it pettiness or what not, but you’re here now, and hope that at least she knows she can talk about her feelings with you and not have to hide them or brush them off.

He’d do that.

Nevertheless, there’s a brief moment of quiet before Ellie mutters in a serious tone. “Here in this windmill? Because that’s sort of inconvenient.”

You snort and break into a chuckle for the first time in a month. “You know what I meant fucker,” you mutter between laughs.

Ellie smiles proudly and nods.

Silence comes back as you keep watch, your smiles fade, but she soon interrupts. “You know I did have this problem last night actually.”

Your brows slowly furrow and you look at her with concern.

“I just stayed up all night wondering where the sun went…then it dawned on me.”

Your face slowly falls, and she looks over at you with a very proud smile. You let a second pass before you burst out laughing at her joke. She soon joins in and you’re both too lost laughing until your stomachs hurt.

When you’ve somewhat calmed down you add one you remember. “Okay, okay.” You clear your throat. “I walked into my sister's room and tripped on a bra…it was a booby trap.” You smirk.

Ellie shakes her head and laughs harder. “That was stupid.”

You nod and once again begin to laugh along with her, not realizing in that moment as you were both distracted that your dad was now inside the windmill lost listening in to the both of you.

When your laughs die down you take advantage of this moment and pull your backpack to your lap to unzip it, and pull out an additional Walkman. “I feel like you’ll enjoy this,” you tell her and then search your backpack for a specific cassette.

Ellie slowly puts down the rifle and watches you pull out a small plastic box.

“The Smiths,” you mention and open the box to insert the cassette. “Very good band.” You smile and hand her the Walkman. “Listen to it when you can, or when you can’t sleep. Just don’t lose the cassette ‘kay? It’s my friends.”

Ellie hesitantly takes the Walkman and headphones. “Are you sure?” She asks quietly.

You nod. “I have my own. I had that as a spare, but you can keep it. When you’re done with that album, let me know, I can give you more music to listen to while we find more.”

Ellie slowly smiles softly, and meets your gaze. “Thanks.” She whispers.

You offer her a smile, and don’t realize that for that moment sharing your music as Sarah once did with you, laughing with Ellie felt the best you’ve felt in a long time; you didn’t feel sad, or angry. You felt good, at peace, and a sense of familiarity you haven’t felt in years.

——

*2 MONTHS LATER*

Winter has fully embraced the earth, providing some sense of what month it can be. Between Kansas City and here you’ve lost track of the days. You know with every feeling in you that Jackson is only a couple days out.

Seeing Maria, your uncle Tommy, your friends, and your house is only a couple days out. Finally!

“You don’t seriously believe them,” Ellie remarks as she stomps out of the cabin of this old couple living a quiet life in the middle of nowhere.

Which honestly isn’t half bad. You only wish to grow old like them and live with….with someone…

“They’ve lived here a long time,” your dad rebuttals as he leads the way off the property. He then stops and looks back as he hears only one pair of footsteps following him.

You then proceed to stop too and glance back, catching Ellie robbing one of the rabbits that the man that had found you killed.

“Put that back,” he tells her and then continues to lead the way.

“What about you, y/n, I mean you’ve lived around here,” Ellie pulls you into the conversation.

You scoff softly and wait for her to catch up. “Well all I’ll say is that it’s a bunch of superstition, okay?” You tell her without giving away too much of what awaits beyond the River. “There’s no River of death, nothin’.”

“So they don’t know anything?” She points out and falls beside you, letting you finally continue to follow your dad. “Because they’ve also never heard of the Fireflies.”

“It’s hard to hear much living so secluded,” you explain and look ahead, catching in that moment your dad stops and leans against a wooden pole.

Is he really that scared of some fear the old couple have? Because it’s only to scare people away, it isn’t true.

Is he still tired? He’s panting.

“Joel? Joel?” Ellie calls out, and shares a slightly concerned and confused look with you before she walks over to him, while you watch him with higher concern that freezes you a bit.

“Joel, are you okay?” She asks and gets closer to him as he stays leaning against the pole. “Joel?”

“Shut up,” he quips at her.

You blink and snap out of your stupor to make your way to him too. “Dad,” you call out.

“Holy shit, are you dying?” Ellie remarks, making that fear you didn’t feel before spark now at the sound of her words, even if he shakes his head.

Is it his heart? He is old now.

What if it is his heart?

“Dad?” You call out and walk past Ellie to look at his face, noticing his eyes are closed and his hand is in a tight fist. It’s like he’s in pain…

“I’m okay,” he mutters breathlessly.

You know you haven’t talked much in the past three months, your anger is still pretty alive and heightened to the point you can’t hold his gaze sometimes for more than a few seconds. But he still is your dad, and you still do very much love him…more than anything. It’s just hard being with him right now. It’s hard.

“Okay, okay,” he keeps repeating, and you grow more concerned.

“Okay, are you okay? It doesn’t sound like you are,” Ellie keeps panicking.

“I’m fine.”

“But are you because just a reminder that if you’re dead, I’m fucked—”

“Ellie,” you warn, and step closer to him. You feel like freezing, like covering your ears at the sight of his trouble, but you muster the strength to carefully grab his arm, and call to him again. “Daddy.”

As if snapped back to reality by your touch, and your voice so close, he snaps his eyes to you and calms his breathing immediately.

“Are you okay?” You ask him.

He swallows thickly and holds your gaze for a moment before he snaps back. “I said I’m fine.”

Huh. You pull your hand away and nod. “Okay.”

“It’s just the cold air all of a sudden,” he explains what can be true, but what sounds like bullshit.

“All right,” Ellie says and continues to walk ahead. “Uh, so let’s go and find Tommy and the Fireflies.”

You linger your gaze on your dad for a few more seconds as you try to find some sort of symptom. But he did brush Ellie and you off harshly so, instead you leave him be and follow after Ellie.

“It’s gonna be easy,” Ellie adds and almost trips going up the snowy hill. “All we have to do is cross the River of Death.”

You roll your eyes at the fact that she’s believing it so easily, but still don’t try to correct anyone. Instead you comment on something to lighten the mood.

“We might have to wait to find the Fireflies.”

Ellie looks back with slight concern and presses. “Why?”

You look down at the snow you’re walking over and smirk. “Well it’s not summer yet.” You look up at her and shoot her a smile.

Ellie rolls her eyes and looks back. “That was stupid,” she remarks as she hides her amused smile.

“You liked it,” you mutter and pull on your backpack straps to tighten them. “You know it.”

“Maybe I can laugh at all your jokes if you teach me what you did back there, to that guy in Kansas City a few months ago,” she says.

She saw that?

You let out a soft sigh, and brush away what threatens to resurface about Sam and Henry to solely focus on what she wants. “Well, one, you don’t gotta pretend to like my jokes to get something out of me. You could've just asked.”

Ellie shrugs. “I ask Joel to teach me stuff and he says no,” she argues. “I thought you’d be the same.”

You scoff. “Well no, I ain't. And two, always read the room, Kathleen prided herself on loyalty, she wasn’t going to risk letting me kill the guy. I knew that so I acted,” you share your technique.

“Uh, huh,” Ellie notes everything down mentally.

“Two, body stance, look at how they’re standing, how tight their finger is on the trigger, if it’s too tight you’ll get shot at that moment,” you continue. “Three, act fast, hit the weak points to paralyze them. Men, the groin is a good one, for both men and women, throat, eyes, knees, temple, nose, jaw and shins. And then get them to the ground, or your stance of choice to threaten them. But always make sure they can’t and aren’t reaching for any weapons, okay? You’ll lose the higher ground if they do.”

Ellie looks over her shoulder, showing off her little smirk. “Okay, got that, but now what about a physical demonstration?” She asks.

You nod. “Sure, once we find somewhere to camp.”

Ellie shoots you a partial grin and nods in comprehension. “Cool.” She looks back ahead. “Your joke was stupid by the way.”

You snicker and run up to catch up to her. “Yeah. How about yours, Will Livingston, huh?”

She snickers and shrugs, bringing silence that follows the three of you for a while. You just walk, walk and walk for miles, down hills, up them, past dryer terrain and even snowier ground. Past a horizon of the setting sun, and under clear skies. All up until you reach a valley that overlooks the river the couple had mentioned on the map your dad insists on carrying even if they have you guiding the way

“The River of Death,” Ellie comments. “Scary.”

“Don’t start,“ your dad warns her bluntly.

You on the other hand watch the distant running river and sigh with relief. You’re almost home.

“It’s too close to dark,” your dad mentions. “There’s some caves along the river. We’ll set up camp there, cross in the mornin’.”

“Good,” Ellie says. “I'm starving. Should’ve stolen two rabbits.”

“We can get our own rabbits,” your dad counters.

You scoff at his comment, and see him give you a side eye.

“You gonna teach me how?” Ellie asks with hope.

Only to be shot down by your dad. “Just keep movin’.”

“Y/N?” Ellie now drifts her question to you.

You look over at her and think for a few seconds before nodding. “Sure let's just get more bullets first, or maybe a bow and arrow.”

Ellie snaps her eyes to your dad and shoots him a smirk. “See,” she quips. “Someone’s nice.” And then she proceeds to continue walking.

You scoff and roll your eyes before you also proceed to continue walking even more. Luckily this time you don’t end up walking far, your dad finds a cave somewhat deep in the woods to set up your last camp.

As always you’re all quick to eat as that’s what you’re looking forward to the most throughout the long days of walking, and avoiding danger. As always it’s quiet between you and him. He doesn’t attempt to talk to you, nor do you attempt to talk to him. Something stands in the way now, a tension…a fear that runs in the both of you.

The one thing that fills the awkward and tension filled silence is Ellie.

“Oh my god!” She exclaims and jumps off her seat to run off towards the giant rock in front of the cave.

“Ellie,” your dad mutters.

You look up from your food and see the sky beginning to glow as it fills with beautiful dancing colors of bright green, and hints of purple light. Northern lights.

You smile softly and shove the last bit of food in your mouth before you follow Ellie towards the rock to get a better view of them from the top.

“Beautiful huh? You know why they happen?” You ask Ellie as you sit beside her on the rock.

Ellie keeps her head up to continue admiring the dancing hues, and shakes her head. “Do you?” She redirects.

You hum and nod. “I read it in a book once, it happens when charged particles collide with gasses in Earth's upper atmosphere. Those collisions then produce tiny flashes that fill the sky with colorful light.”

Ellie looks down and meets your gaze. “Hm, interesting.” She says sincerely with a soft smile as she looks up again.

“There’s a lot of lore behind them, different beliefs,” you add quietly. “Some people think of them as bad omen, others as positive….what really stuck with me is this one belief I got told once by an old lady in Jackson…” you pause and slowly look down at your hands as that sadness, that grief, that agony, presents itself in you again after having pushed it away all day.

“She said that the lights are the souls of the departed…ancestors, those….” You swallow thickly and feel your eyes and throat begin to sting. “You lost.” You reach in your pocket and pull out the sun pin you kept inside, you fiddle with it and watch it reflect the lights that dance above.

“I like that one,” Ellie whispers.

You nod as your eyes fill with tears. “Me too.” You let out a deep sigh and flicker your eyes up to watch the sky again, to admire its beauty.

Ellie and you stay up there, basking in the lights and the silence until your dad whistles and cuts in. “Come down from there. Y’all gonna break your necks.”

Impossible….maybe a sore neck…

Regardless you both climb down and huddle back near the fire.

“Ah,” Ellie interjects. “Can I have some?”

You put the pin away and glance over at your dad, noticing the flask of alcohol in his hand.

“No.” He shakes his head.

“What?” Ellie argues. “Just to warm up. C’mon.”

Your dad rolls his eyes slightly but gives in, making you pass the flask to Ellie.

“Thanks,” she mutters, and looks at the metal flask for a second before raising it up as a speechless cheers.

You think she’d hesitate to take a sip, but she takes the drink without a fight.

Honestly, it’s very funny. Especially when she pulls it down and scrunches her face in disgust.

“Yep,” she groans. “Still gross.” She nudges it to you now. “Sip?”

You look at it and shake your head. “I’m fine. Thanks.” You grab the flask and hand it back to your dad.

“So I’ve been thinking,” Ellie continues to fill the silence.

“Hm?” You probe curiously, and press your hands down on the cold ground to lean back.

“Let’s say we find the Fireflies,” she says, “it all works, they draw my blood and put it through some of their fancy machines and make a cure.”

“Okay?” You hear your dad say.

“Then what? Like, what do we do?”

“Oh, it’s we?” Your dad retorts, kind of rudely may you add.

“Okay,” Ellie corrects herself. “Fine. Whatever. You. You can do anything you want. Where are you going? What are you doing?”

That’s an interesting question.

You glance over at your dad and wait.

“It’s never been an option,” he answers and looks up to the sky as he clears his throat. “Maybe,” he sighs. “An old farmhouse, some land, a ranch.”

He’s said that once, when you were young, he said he was working to get one, that you could all have all the free space you wanted, you could have horses, sheep, dogs, cats and goats. He’d said that once he’s old Sarah and you could live with him to take care of him and the animals. He always liked to talk about it.

Of course that was pre outbreak. You never heard that dream after. It’s nice that it hasn’t changed.

“Cool,” Ellie comments, but you can’t tell if she’s teasing him or actually interested. “What kind?”

“Sheep. I would raise sheep.”

You glance down at the fire and smile softly.

“Sheep,” Ellie whispers.

“They’re quiet,” your dad adds, making you snort softly. “Do what they’re told.”

You stifle your laugh and glance over at Ellie since you know it’s a jab at her.

“Yeah, yeah,” Ellie gets it. “Okay. So, just you and a buncha sheep. Romantic.”

You smile and spare your dad one teasing glance. He feels your gaze, he sees your smile finally directed at him after three months, and sighs softly.

“What about you, y/n?” Ellie asks.

You glance at her and then watch the dancing lights in the sky. “Well when I was young I wanted to be a performer like Britney Spears.” You grin proudly.

“Who?” Ellie queries, but you don’t have time to answer since you continue.

“But now I want to become a movie star,” you smirk and look down at her. “An actress who stars in big movies. Like Halle Berry, Kate Winslet, Kristen Dunst, Uma Thurman, Winona Ryder, and my favorite, and my idol, Audrey Hepburn.” You beam at her and nod slowly.

Ellie squints and shakes her head. “I’ve heard of none of them.”

“You will soon enough, and you’ll know my name as well. Y/N Miller,” you throw your hands up in the air and glance at your dad with that grin, noticing him listening with intent and the corner of his lips slightly raised. “Famous movie star. Survivalist. And the most talented and prettiest.”

Ellie snorts and nods along again. “I actually think that’s pretty cool. I mean you’ll probably be the only one, but it’s nice.”

“Thank you,” you beam at her and put your hands down. “I won’t forget to mention you in my speech when I win my Oscar.” You wink and then press her now. “What about you? Where are you gonna go?”

Ellie gently punches her legs and looks up. “It’s probably because I grew up in the QZ. Behind you, there’s ocean, and ahead of you, there’s a wall.” She looks down between you and your dad. “Nowhere else to look but up. I read everything I could in the school library. Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin, Jim Lovell. But you know who my favorite is?”

Yes.

“Sally Ride,” your dad guesses correctly.

“Sally fuckin’ Ride!” She whispers excitedly. “Best astronaut name ever.”

You smile softly and in admiration. Silence follows, and her own smile fades, her gaze gets lost ahead of her, and you sense sorrow.

“It’ll work, right?” She then asks, making your smile fall. “The vaccine?”

You sigh and sit up to drag your legs against your chest, and hug them tightly.

“It’s a little late to start wonderin’” your dad retorts.

“I tried,” she says. “With Sam.”

Your frown immediately deepens, and your heart begins to sink.

“Tried what?” Your dad probes.

“I knew he was infected,” Ellie answers, and you see her glance at you. “I rubbed some of my blood into his bite. I know. I know it was stupid. But I…I wanted to save him.”

Your eyes water again, that anguish crawls back up, and memories haunt you.

“Well, I reckon it’s a lot more complicated than that,” your dad tells her. “Marlene, she’s a lotta things, but she’s no fool. If she says they can do it, they can do it.”

They hope….you hope too.

For him. For Sam.

After that silence returns, which is abruptly interrupted. “Who wants to take first watch and second watch?” Ellie asks to change the subject.

You part your lips to volunteer, but your dad quickly interrupts before you can.

“I’ll do both. you girls should get some sleep.”

You snap your eyes to him and get ready to argue, but once again he beats you to it.

“Y/N, it’s okay, I can do it. Tomorrow we’ll be with Tommy, and I can sleep then.”

You hesitate for a moment but you know you’ll get nowhere, so you give in.

“Dream of sheep ranches on the moon,” he adds as you and Ellie grab your sleeping bags.

“I will,” Ellie agrees. And you just scoff softly and leave it at that.

——

Sleep comes, but you don’t last long, eventually the nightmares take over; the same ones from the past three months, and all you can do is stay up to avoid seeing all of it. It would make a boring and long night, but you find yourself entertained by watching your dad.

He sits against the cave wall, he watches the sky, he watches the dark shadows in the forest, and occasionally he glances over to watch you and Ellie sleep. He seems to be looking for something, a sign of life. Once he finds it he’d look away and go back to keeping watch. That’s when your head spins and you begin to wonder why he left you?

What was his reason? Grief?

Because you feel it, you understand it. Perhaps not before, not the moment you lost Sarah, but after losing Henry?

That need to just go away, to cave into yourself, to hide and never come out? To…not keep going, to just end it as it seems like life has little meaning? You understand that. You want to do it everyday. Is that why?

Or was it fear? Just cause?

Did you do something wrong?

Or were you not enough? Were you not…her?

If you could, you'd bring her back to him. If somehow there was a chance, you would. You’d bring back Sam and Henry. Even if it meant you’d be gone forever, you’d do it.

If seeing Sarah again would make him happy you’d do it. Anger and resentment aside, you’d do it….

Nevertheless…as you’re caught up in your own thoughts, he ends up passing out.

What an old man.

To keep him that way so he can get the rest he needs you get up and keep watch for him. Ellie soon joins you and you let sleep as you both keep watch while the sun rises again, and the day turns bright.

During your watch you taught Ellie the move she wanted to learn; which she learns fast and gets very happy about. You talked about stupid stuff, and then watched some more until he woke up abruptly.

“Still mumbling in your sleep,” Ellie comments as he looks up panicked. “We woke up early. You were passed out, so we took second watch.”

“Y/N,” your dad scolds you.

You just shrug and brush him off.

“You gotta wake me up if that happens,” he rebuttals and gets up. “You can’t do things like this, Ellie.”

“But I can,” she counters sassily. “‘Cause I just did. Besides, y/n was with me the entire time.”

“She’s older, she knows stuff,” he quickly snaps back. “She’s not responsible for you, I am, okay?”

“Then don’t fall asleep,” she sasses him. “We were quiet, We checked our six, we looked for tracks, we found the high ground, and we kept watch,” she assures him as he gets near. “like you and she taught me too. And y/n let me hold the gun the entire time.” She quips and shares a proud glance with you. “What can I say, man? I'm a natural.”

“Uh-huh,” he nods. “Give her the gun.”

Ellie sighs and turns to hand you back your gun. You then proceed to hang it around your shoulder, and listen to him direct her a comment.

“You wake me up next time.”

“Yes, sir,” Ellie agrees. “But only if y/n is not here.” She shoots him a smile.

Your dad rolls his eyes and groans. “Fine,” he says in defeat. “C’mon pack up, let’s get goin’.”

As usual the day consists of endless fucking walking which was getting more annoying the closer you were to home. It’s like a fucking dread. And today it seemed colder out—but that’s probably due to the falling snow and the winder winds.

Once you assure Ellie and your dad that River is safe to cross, you make it to the other side and put your mask up over half of your face, you put your hood over your head to block out the cold and keep as warm as you can.

The closer you got home, the more the grounds seemed familiar, the more your excitement rose. That becomes especially so as you get close to the dam.

“We’re almost there,” you squeal. “We’re almost home.” You quicken your pace, but look back as you the sound of Ellie blowing out air catches your attention. “Whatcha doin’?”

“I’m learning how to whistle,” she explains as she catches both you and your dad looking back at her now.

“You don’t know how to whistle?” Your dad queries.

Ellie pulls her hand out of her mouth to rebuttal. “Does it sound like I know how to whistle?”

“No,” you retort and look back ahead. “Just put your lips together and blow.

“I’ve tried that! It doesn’t work!”

You smirk and do it yourself before you look back at her to do it again.

Ellie shoots you a pointed glare and drops her hand to her side. “Well now you're just showing off,” she spats. “No one likes a show off.”

You smirk and counter. “Everyone likes me, so I guess it’s wrong.”

Ellie scoffs. “Have you ever heard of the word humble? Won’t hurt to know its definition.”

You grin and look ahead. “I do know it actually.” You whistle one more to piss her off.

This time she doesn’t retort back, instead you suddenly feel a snowball hit your back.

“Hey!” You exclaim and look back.

Ellie shoots you a smirk. “Show off,” she quips without shame.

You let out a small huff and stop walking to bend down and make a snowball. Ellie knows what you’re going to do and begins to walk back with a grin.

“Don’t,” she laughs and puts her hand out.

“Whistle,” you say. “And I won’t throw it. Oh wait,” you snicker. “You can’t.”

Ellie quickly bends down and collects a snowball, causing you guys to stay at a standstill to wait who’d throw it first.

“Throw it and I’ll push you in,” she threatens.

You begin to walk back and taunt her again with a whistle.

“Fucker!” Ellie runs and throws it, but you manage to turn out of the way, and it ends up hitting the back of your dads legs.

Ellie’s eyes go wide, and you and her stifle your laughs as he stops and looks back.

“It was me,” she admits with a smirk, and you let your snowball fall, and snicker.

Your dad looks between the two of you, he lets his gaze linger without saying anything. And when he does break his gaze away it’s to glance down at his wrist for a second before he lifts his eyes and lets out a deep annoyed sigh. “Enough foolin’ around, let’s go.” He grumbles and turns to continue on ahead, causing you guys to follow after him now.

“You guys should teach me how to hunt. Like, seriously,” Ellie says.

“Huh,” your dad breathes out.

“Huh,” Ellie mocks. “Like she’s a girl. she can’t handle it.”

“You can handle the shootin’” you assure her.

“Not so sure about the dressin’?” Your dad adds on to your comment.

“What’s the dressin’?” Ellie asks.

You look over at her and explain it to her. “It’s when you take the guts out.”

Ellie nods as she falls behind. “Oh, yeah. Why do they call it dressing? It’s like, you should call it undressing ‘cause it is. It’s like undressing from the inside.”

You hum in agreement and think about it now too.

“Still interested, though.” Ellie adds.

“I told you,” you tell her and grin as you see glimpses of the dam coming up. “Let’s just get more bullets, and we can do it.” You then run up ahead and stop at the top of the hill that overlooks the running water that goes through the dam.

Ellie and your dad catch up, and Ellie of course adds something to specialize the moment. “Dam.”

You and your dad share a judgmental gaze before he retorts for you. “You’re no Will Livingston.”

“Yeah, yeah, but who is?” She rebuttals. “So that made electricity?”

“Yeah,” your dad answers her. “Don’t ask me. I don’t have a clue.”

You smile wider and linger in your spot for a moment before you continue walking.

“You know, you could’ve just made something up,” Ellie interjects as they both follow you now whilst you try hard not to just run home out of pure joy. “I would’ve believed you.”

“You know,” you add on as you walk down, past the dam. “The dam still provides electricity. I’ve been told how, but I forgot, but there is light in Jackson, trust me.”

“Huh,” Ellie huffs out. “Well we're almost there aren’t we? We’ll see.”

“Yeah.” You mutter. “We will.”

Once you make it down you each step makes your heart beat pick up, each other footstep makes you wary since you know that the rangers out on pontrol should probably be approaching. It’s rare that they’d miss spotting the three of you.

“Look at that River,” Ellie points out. “It’s crazy blue. Hey, Joel, what if this is the River of Death?”

You hear him stop, so you stop even with your anticipation to get home, and wait for them. You watch him pull out his map to check what you’ve already pointed out.

“We’re close,” you break the silence. “Let’s go.”

As you take a few steps ahead, you come to a quick halt as the sound of horses neighing, their running footsteps steal your attention.

Your dad takes Ellie’s hand and tries to run away, while you stay in place and watch multiple people surround you, stopping Ellie and your dad right by you.

“Get behind me,” you hear your dad tell Ellie, before he grabs your hand and tries to pull you behind him too.

However, you slip your hand away and step forward again. You’re not scared, you recognize this tactic, you know the protocol, you know it’s them.

“We ain’t lookin’ for any trouble,” your dad interjects to try to ease the tension. “We’re just passin’ through.”

You glance around at all of them, all the faces of the people that surround the three of you. Since they all have hats, and masks over their faces it’s hard to identify who’s who. You doubt much has changed as far as routines go, maybe some people have been added here and there, but it should be the same otherwise. They might recognize you and ease the tension.

Albeit just as you lower your hand to take off your mask all guns point at you

“Keep your hands up!” The man at front yells.

“Yes,” you mutter and search the crowd again for Maria, she usually likes to patrol at the gate.

Behind you a dog begins to whine; maybe it’s the alert dog…fuck that’s right. Fuck.

“Drop the guns!” The man yells again.

You snap your gaze to your dad and give him an assuring nod before you both pull your guns off your shoulders, and place them on the ground. When you’re lifting your arms again is when you reach for your mask and pull it off, you then lift your hand further and pull off your hood, finally revealing your face to those ahead of you.

Again you search the crowd and behind the man you spot her, Maria. Her eyes land on you too and you see her ease her shoulders.

The man ahead lowers his gun slightly and squints his gaze slightly. “Holy shit,” he mutters. “The child protege returns.” He scoffs and glances back, you follow his line of gaze and see Maria getting off her horse, she lowers her mask and her eyes soften—“welcome home, Sunny.”

You smile with relief, and offer him a nod.

“You’re gonna have to stay there girl,” he adds. “You know the rules.”

You nod and look at Ellie and your dad. “It’s okay,” you mutter and keep your hands at your side.

“You been near infected?” He asks.

You shake your head and try to answer, but your dad beats you to it.

“There’s no infected out here.”

“The hell there ain’t,” the guy spats back and whistles, making a dog from ahead of you bark as he’s brought over.

Then who’s whining behind you?

“Last chance for a bullet. If you’ve been infected, he will smell it and he will rip you up.”

You swallow thickly and glance over at Ellie.

Usually the dog only detects active cordyceps, hers is…dormant considering it hasn’t spread? Or is it active?

Fuck.

The dog is let go from its leash and he first begins to walk to your dad. He first smells him to make sure, and once he smells nothing he jumps up and gives the all clear. After that the dog walks over to you, he smells your feet and your legs, before jumps on you and gives you the all clear.

“Good boy,” you coo at him and scratch him behind the ears.

The dog happily wags his tail before getting on all fours to walk back to his handler.

“Like I said, we’ll just move on,” your dad interjects. But it’s not that easy, they still need to make sure Ellie is clear. You can’t move otherwise, not even to greet Maria that is itching to meet up with you as much as you are to meet up with her.

“Now her,” they point to Ellie.

Your heart begins to race, and your mind begins to race faster. The dog begins to growl as he creeps towards her, so you look at your dad to see what he’d do, but you see that he’s frozen…he’s…frozen.

He must truly care about her….

Fuck.

You step back and face Ellie, and she looks over at you at that moment too to express her concern since your dad wouldn’t turn to face her.

“It's okay,” you mouth to her as the dog gets closer. “It’s okay.” You discreetly reach your fingers for your holstered gun. If the dog does detect the cordyceps then you’ll have to…wound it so he doesn’t hurt her, they’ll all probably hate you for it, but you can’t let her die.

The dog gets closer, he smells her for a few seconds before he looks up at her. You hold your breath and clench your jaw.

Ellie glances at you again, and you step forward, but the dog then barks and jumps on her, giving the all clear, and letting you relax and exhale deeply.

“Hi,” Ellie giggles and crouches down to pet the dog and let him lick her. “Hi!”

Now that he isn’t going to kill her, you look at the guy for the okay.

He catches you and points to Maria with his eyes. You immediately beam as your eyes begin to sting, and don’t wait a moment longer to break into a run towards her, meeting her halfway.

“Oh god,” she whispers as she throws her arms around you. “You’re here. You’ve been gone too long.”

You nod and ball up the material of her jacket in your fists as you nuzzle your head against her shoulder.

“I’m home,” your voice quivers, forgetting those you came with as you’re basked by the joy, and warmth of being in her arms again. It’s why you miss the curious stare of your dad, the confusion that grows within him, whilst Ellie begins to feel a spark of something deep within her, something she hasn’t felt about you before, jealousy…not for what you might have with Maria, but over how she holds you and what it can mean.

Sure at first she was slightly jealous of you, of how your father showed you affection, but that soon disappeared, quickly actually; the moment she saw you take down that man. And now after 3 months, after witnessing what happened 3 months ago together. After 2 months of you teaching her things she didn't know, things she wanted to know, now after having someone to talk to, someone to laugh with. Now after finally having another woman to bond with her instead of just your dad. After having no one but you and your dad, she’s grown quite attached to you too.

She knew you were heading home to your family, but something in her hoped you wouldn't be so overjoyed, she didn’t want you to stay with them. She wanted just you, your dad, and her. Even if she noticed how you and your dad barely even talked at the moment.

“You’re never leaving,” Maria says and rests her chin on your head. “You understand that?”

You laugh and nod. “Not plannin’ to.”

Maria tightens her hold around you for one more lingering second before she pulls back to grab your shoulders and look at you in the face, to see the happy tears that roll down your cheeks.

“Tommy is going to freak out,” she says with a happy smile. “I was so worried,” she sighs and caresses your cheeks as she looks deep into your eyes.

You try to hide it well, the sadness brought by your still very much active grief, but can she tell in this small interaction?

“I’m home now,” you assure her. “I’m okay.”

“Are you?” She asks.

You nod and offer her a brighter smile. “I…am.”

She hums, and caresses your chin once more before letting you go, and letting you turn to introduce who you’re here with now that you remember that you’re still surrounded. But before you can, a big red bloodhound comes running at you and tackles you to the ground with all its force to start licking you, and whining out of joy.

“Hey!” You hear Ellie exclaim with concern.

“Ahh,” you groan and keep tilting your head away so you wouldn’t be licked in your mouth. “That’s a good boy, Achilles,” you tell him. “I missed you too man, but you’re heavy.”

“Maybe he’ll help you get cleaned up,” you hear someone say as they approach you. “Achilles, get off her man.”

The dog does as he’s told, letting someone else come to view as they stand above you now, blocking the natural bright light that almost blinds you, but shines around his head like he’s some majestic being.

“Fuck,” he gasps and throws his hand out to offer it to you.

As if it can be possible you grin brighter at the sight of his familiar soft brown eyes that gleam with happiness, and his beaming smile that spreads on his square jaw. You take his hand and let him help you off the ground, you stay there in front of each of other for a lingering moment just staring at one another with longing that comes rushing back at you—you also notice he doesn’t seem to aged much, he looks pretty much the same, except for his hair, it’s longer, fluffier, and no longer shaven.

It looks good that way. It’s nice to see him again. seeing your best friend since you joined the fireflies years ago brings even more ease to your wounded heart. It makes you excited, so much so that you squeal before you throw your arms around his neck.

“Jesus,” he mutters as he holds onto you. “I knew you’d make it.” He nuzzles his head against your shoulder, and you close your eyes to nuzzle your face against him.

“I’m finally home,” you whisper as if you can’t believe it.

He hums and begins to rub your back, he lets you bask in his embrace until you’re the one that wants to let go.

“You grew out your hair,” you point out with a smile and brush back the ends of his hair. “I like it.”

You begin to turn to face your dad and Ellie, but he turns with you to keep holding your gaze with a soft look that matches yours.

“Yeah,” he scoffs and grows cocky. “I knew you were coming, so I was like, I’m going to grow it for her since I know she likes it that way.”

You roll your eyes, but keep your smile as you walk past him to face your dad and Ellie now.

“They’re okay,” you assure the group. “They’re with me. That man is,” you exhale and share a glance with Maria. “My dad, Joel, the girl is Ellie.”

Slowly they both put their hands down, but the guns remain pointed.

“You vouch for them?” The guy asks you.

You glance at him and meet his gaze to nod. “Yep.”

The guy nods in comprehension and lowers his gun, letting the others do the same.

“Let’s get them on some horses and get them inside,” the guy instructs.

You glance at Ellie and your dad once before you turn on your heels to follow Maria.

“That’s your dad?” Apollo asks quietly beside you as he makes his horse, and his dog Achilles follows him as you all head home. “Are you gonna present me or what?”

“Shut up, Apollo,” you snap back and nudge him.

Apollo laughs and looks back. “I kinda see it between him and Tommy.”

You giggle. “Well they are brothers. You and Atlas look alike for that same reason.”

“You and your sister didn't look alike,” Apollo quickly rebuttals.

You huff out. “‘Cause we were half sisters, duh, do you want it explained to you how that works? Mama,” you look at Maria up on her horse now. “You want to explain to Apollo how that works.”

“Don’t be an ass,” Apollo retorts and nudges you.

You giggle, and notice Maria smirk.

Not so long after that Ellie, your dad, and you are whisked to some horses, finally being able to rest your feet and not have to walk the rest of the way to Jackson. You come to recognize most of the rangers who had given you that cold welcome, and greet all those you knew and that knew you.

You weren’t inside the walls yet, you haven’t seen your uncle yet, but you did feel more safe now, more comforted now that you aren’t out in the open. Now that you’re only minutes from home.

“I can’t wait to share the hell I’ve been through these past two years,” you interject on your way home. “You guys won’t fucking believe it.”

Apollo glances over at you and narrows his gaze to quip. “Maybe.” He licks his lips and looks serious. “You should tell it in the form of a play, hm?”

He’s making fun of you, funny.

“Yeah,” you go along with him. “The adventures of y/n Miller, one woman show, the musical.” You smirk and bounce your eyebrows.

“Who would play you?” He counters. “‘Cause,” he says and sucks in air through his teeth. “I hate to break it to you, but singing isn’t for you, you can play the guitar, but it’s singing that just….” He shakes his head.

You drop your jaw, peel your eyes wide as if suddenly hit with excitement, and snap your fingers to share your thought. “I have the best idea. Maybe…your mom can do it?”

Apollo goes serious, and you stifle your laugh as you grin at him.

“Can I get a bump?” You tease him and stick your fist out at your other side to offer Ellie a fistbump since she’s riding beside you.

Ellie’s confused at first, but she doesn’t leave you hanging. Apollo shakes his head with a frown, so you now offer him your fist.

“Come on,” you encourage him. “Don’t leave me hanging, it was funny.” You giggle.

Apollo rolls his eyes but very lightly hits your fist. “Only because you’re back,” he mutters.

You shrug sweetly and shoot him a sweet smile.

“It was a lame joke,” Ellie mutters.

You roll your eyes to her and sigh. “Well, I think it works,” you assure yourself. “It was good at the moment.” You flash her a smile.

Jackson isn’t far now, you all make it there quickly by horse. That wooden wall comes to view soon, and after being gone for so long, it’s such a heavenly sight. What once felt like a trapdoor, what once felt like a cage is now nothing but paradise. Walking in was such a fucking relief too. There was instant comfort in all the buildings, some that have had some tweaks and others that remain the same.

“Welcome back home,” Maria tells you as the gates close behind you.

You shoot her a smile and continue to look around at all the people, and then focus on the Christmas decorations, letting you know come up to date with what month it was; December! It’s almost Christmas!

Yet, even as happy as you feel, there’s a sadness that stabs your heart, that reminds you of that pain…

Henry and Sam should be here. They should’ve made it this far, they should’ve seen all this. You promised them…

“Y/N?!”

You snap away from your thoughts and look behind you where the call had come from, that’s when you see another familiar face, a close friend from your firefly days, and Apollo’s younger brother.

You turn your frown the other way around so they won’t worry. “Atlas!” You call out and climb off the horse, letting the man behind you take it for you.

“I knew it was you!” Atlas exclaims as you both run to meet halfway in an embrace. “Holy fuck!” He chuckles. “Fuck! I thought you were dead!”

You laugh softly and pat his back. “I made it, like I said I would.”

He smiles and caresses the back of your neck with his soft hands. “We missed you. Home wasn’t the same without you.”

You pull back and offer him a happy smile. “You haven’t aged,” you point out.

“Nah,” he winks. “Just got more handsome.”

You scrunch your nose in disgust and pull away from him completely.

Atlas smirks and glances at the pair you came in with as they walk away further in town. “You’ve brought company.”

You nod and turn to walk after them now, seeing Apollo approach on foot. “Yeah, that’s my dad,” you let Atlas know.

Atlas snaps his head to you and furrows his thick dark eyebrows. “No fucking way. Like, your dad, dad?”

Why are they so in disbelief that he’s your dad? Is there something you’re missing?

“Yeah.” You nod and scoff. “Him.” You let out a sigh and watch Apollo fall by your other side now. “I’ve got a question,” you abruptly change the subject as curiosity grows. “Are you still with redhead Jessica?”

Atlas begins to snicker, but Apollo answers before his brother can blurt the news.

“We broke up.”

You perk up instantly.

“Yeah,” Atlas bounces off his brother's announcement. “She cheated on him.” He smirks.

What a relief…not the cheating part.

Well…kinda…

“Yeah,” Apollo sighs as he shoots his brother a glare. “It happened like a year ago.”

You smile and let him see it. “Bad news, told ya.”

“Whatever,” Apollo retorts.

“Atlas! You rangle up stragglers?!” You hear a woman shout.

Apollo and you snap your heads to the side, seeing Atlas spin around to walk backwards so he can look at the young girls that had spoken to him.

“Yep!” Atlas lies. “Bad ones too! I spotted them myself, kept them from getting shot.”

You and Apollo share an amused and judgemental look before continuing to watch Atlas, noticing at that moment a pile of shit that one of the horses dropped just now; and Atlas was walking right towards it.

“A thousand that he steps in it,” you offer Apollo.

Your friend scoffs and shakes his head. “No need, he’s going to step in it.”

You both snicker and watch Atlas continue to walk back.

“Let’s meet later while everyone is at the movies, I’ll tell you all about it, and my recent patrol!”

The girls giggle and nod. “Let’s do it!” One of the girls accepts.

Atlas shoots them a wink, and as he does he runs into the pile of hot horse shit.

Without looking, as if you hadn’t ever left, Apollo and you share a proud highfive at his brother's carelessness.

“Oh man!” Atlas exclaims. “What the hell?!”

“Y/N?!” Someone yells, this one more familiar and soothing than before.

You snap your eyes ahead, and there in the middle of the crowd that had greeted you outside the gates, beside your dad, is your uncle Tommy.

“Uncle Tommy!” You call back with instant tears filling your eyes as you’re slammed with unmeasurable relief, more bliss than you’ve felt since you saw your dad for the first time.

Your uncle Tommy smiles softly and without hesitation, before wasting another second you both break through barriers of space to collide, to throw your arms around one another and hold each other.

“Oh, babygirl,” he whispers as he caresses your back, and holds you in his arms tightly as if he would lose you if his hold was too loose.

“Uncle Tommy,” you cry after not being able to hold it any longer.

“Oh,” he breathes out. “My sweet Sunny.”

As you held him, as you cried into his shoulder, you felt finally home, secured. This was home. Him. Uncle Tommy. For so long he was all you had after your dad left, for so long even when your dad was there he was the light that didn’t flicker away. He was the hope you almost lost. He was home, just as much as you were his.

Yes, as you hugged him, as you held him close you did notice the faint look of hurt in your dads eyes as he saw the interaction, it hurt you seeing it. But isn’t this what he wanted when he left you? When he drove you away? When you weren’t enough for him?

When you weren’t enough for him to stay and be your dad?

Tagged- @slut-f0r-u @star-wars-lover @traceylader @givemylovetoall @itzagothamcitysiren @sammy-13 @beloved-reblogger @emiriia @rues-daya @sunfairyy @littleshadow17 @mcu-starwars @bigtuffswordboy @riaqiax @dheet @queenofthekill @joliettes @d4rno @dgraysonss @rana030 @punisherinthealps @pedropascalluvr41 @ahoyyharrington @beaniebeensbaby201@maeneedsabreak@maelartasch@adristyles@daughterofthequeen @alastorhazbin @ririvilliams @khaylin27

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weskin-time · 1 year

Text

Baby It’s Cold Outside

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish x GN!Reader

not beta read. i used google translate for the Gaelic so sorry if it isn’t correct.

i’m getting back into the groove of writing so i’m sorry if this is stale and kinda sucks!

mo chridhe- my heart

mo leannan- my sweetheart

It was forbidden to date outside your rank. You could get in serious trouble by violating the code, it could fuck up the chain of command and ruin both peoples lives. But there was something about Sargent John ‘Soap’ MacTavish that just set your heart ablaze. After a long song and dance he confessed to you, and you to him, but came to an agreement that you two wouldn’t become anything until you got promoted from corporal to sargent.

It was hard to hide these feelings in public, it was little smiles shared, whispered words in each others ears, he praised you more than other members of 141 or anyone in any squad he was in, Gaz teased you the most that Soap had a crush on you. You and Soap haven’t even kissed each other let alone did anything not safe for work, there was no real label to put on what you two were. You weren’t dating, it wasn’t a situationship if you both tried very hard to avoid anything sticky that would leave others a hint to what was going on between you too.

Tonight was one of those nights that could get you in trouble.

Winter was fast approaching, snow littered the ground and the air was filled with chills. It was the season you wear black leggings under your uniform instead of the black knee high socks, a little loop hole you found during uniform inspection. Currently you were in Johns dorm on base, you snuck in like a you were high school lovers trying to be quiet making sure the coast was clear before slipping in. You snuck into each others dorms some nights to have secret dates.

You’ve already been here for an hour, talking and sipping warm drink’s together, you were pushing your luck by staying any longer.

“Another cup o’ coco?” he was seated on the head of his bed while you sat on the foot watching Mythbusters being played on a shitty desktop on a desk across the small room.

You never liked the Army’s barracks. The Air Force was much nicer, and they had way better rooms, they were bigger and didn’t feel like a stuffy box with a bed.

You moved on the bed so your feet planted on the ground yet you didn’t move, “I want to John but I really should go before we get caught.” You didn’t want to leave the warmth of Soaps room and enter the cold frozen winter wastes of the outside just to trudge in the snow till you got to your own dorm room.

“Aye but we wont mo chridhe.” he tried to reassure you. “Stay for a bit longer. please?” He leaned closer to you placing his hand on your own.

You took his hand in your own and got up, moving past him and to the window pulling back the blinds only to see pure white outside. It was snowing bad outside. You sat back down on the bed hands still intertwined. “It’s a borderline blizzard out there.” You sighed.

“Then stay till it blows over! I don’t want cha’ getting a cold sweetheart.” He pulled you by your interlocked hands for you to press into him, your back to his chest as he leaned up against the headboard and pillows of his bed with his large arm wrapped around your waist hand still in his own larger one. His body heat seeped into your skin almost convincing you of staying, you loved it when he called you pet names.

“Give me your big puffy jacket and i’ll be fine walking back to my dorm.” you smiled and nestled yourself into his hold.

“No, I can’t find it I think ya’ should just stay like this and finish this season with me before heading out.” He spoke into your hair as he rested his chin on your head.

“We’re on the second episode John, it’ll be spring by the time this seasons over.” A smile danced across your lips. You really had no intention to leave just yet but you liked how he was pleading with you to stay with him for a while longer. It felt domestic, it felt like something you shouldn’t be chasing the high of but it felt like you two were a real couple with you being in his arms watching Mythbusters. He gave a soft chuckle.

Soap was silent for a good while, a comfortable feeling in the air hung loose in his room, he just held you and tried to put the feeling of you in his arms in his long term memory. When the next episode began to play he craned his neck down so his lips were close to your ear before whispering to you. “Chan eil mi airson feitheamh gus a bhith còmhla riut. Tha mi airson innse dhut gu bheil gaol agam ort a-nis.”

“What did you say?” you turned your head to try and look at him but he hid his face so you couldn’t look at him.

His voice held a hint of sadness and yearning as he spoke, “I just said how i think your eyes are beautiful.”

“Oh John stop.” you giggled and gave a weak slap to his wrist.

He squeezed you before removing his hand and grabbing the covers of his bed and placed them on you two. “What? Cant I tell ya how much I love your smile? How i love hearing ya bark out commands to troops like it doesn’t make me want to kiss ya?” His voice was back to its usual self now.

You wiggled around flipping yourself over so you were now chest to chest, you settled in between his spread thighs and rested your hands on his chest, you looked up at him with a smile on your face. “Flattery isn’t going to make me stay John.”

“But it’s so cold out there and it’s so warm in here, in my bed, cuddled up together, in my arms.” He grabbed the blanket again and moved it to rest on your shoulders.

“You’re going to have to try another method to make me stay you dork.” You didn’t want to get in trouble and possibly never get the promotion you desperately wanted so you could openly be with Soap but this little back and forth charade was too fun, too warm in your heart for you to stop, it was light hearted banter and he knew you were going to stay for longer as you cuddled up to him.

“What if I kiss ya?” His blue eyes bore into your own, a slight blush kissed his cheeks and tip of his nose. “Would that sway ya into staying?” His voice dropped an octave as he whispered.

You think he could hear your heart beating with how fast and hard it was pounding in your ribs. His eyes glanced down to your lips before searching your eyes again, he wanted to make sure it was okay with you before he went ahead and did it, what a sweet hearted gentleman.

You smiled up at him, “Well I think you’re gonna have to find that out for yourself MacTavish.” You teased.

His left arm wrapped around the small of your back while his right hand went to cup the base of your skull, his fingers intertwining in your hair as he pulled you closer to him. You chuckled and met him half way as you both closed your eyes. His lips were soft, slightly chapped but so were your own, it was winter after all. It was one short kiss you didn’t want to pull away from. The feeling of finally kissing him for the first time made your heart quiver and your face grow warm.

He pulled away slowly, “Will ya stay for a few more episodes now mo leannan?” A dopey smile danced across his lips as he looked down at you with soft adoration in his eyes.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer, “I think i need a bit more persuasion hon.”

He kissed you again with no hesitation, his stubble of a beard tickled your face in a comforting way. People say when you kiss someone sparks fly, fireworks go off, or time stands still, but that only happens in movies and romance novels. Kissing him felt like a weight you didn’t know you had on your chest was lifted, feeling his lips move across your own made your heart buzz and your mind race as you took in his scent. You smiled into the kiss and he pulled you tighter to him. It was a soft and slow kiss, the kind from a shitty Hallmark movie, your heart felt like it was going to explode, like you were a teenager again kissing your crush for the first time.

You pulled away before you couldn’t anymore and got addicted to the feeling of him. A small whine left his throat and you think you might have died and went to heaven.

“Hmm fine.” You kissed his nose. “Three more episodes and one more cup of coco.”

His right hand moved from your skull to your neck keeping you in place as he peppered your face with kisses, his lips pressing against you cheeks, eyelids, and nose as you laughed and faintly screamed at the contact. “Alright alright!! how does five episodes sound?”

He placed one last kiss on your lips before moving his hand down your back to where his other one rested on the small of your back. “I don’t care how many episodes we watch i just want you warm and with me.”

#tezi post #johnny soap mactavish #soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #cod mw2 #cod x reader #call of duty #cod #call of duty x reader #modern warefare 2 #modern warfare #mw2 x reader #mw x reader #task force 141 #task force 141 x reader #call of duty imagine

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tiniedemon · 1 year

Text

— ♡

when i look at you

kenny mccormick / reader / kyle broflovski

— ♡

cw | substance abuse, tooth rotting fluff, polyamory

kyle was nervous. he wasn't the type of nervous where he felt nauseous and shaky. it was more the sort of nervous that left a pleasant tingle in his gut and a slight bounce to his leg. he couldn't focus on the conversation between his lovers, entirely too taken by the events soon to take place.

you were stuffing a bowl, fingers stained with keef and blissful smile on your face. this would be your second bowl of the evening. kenny was on kyle's other side, deft fingers and pierced tongue working to roll the perfect blunt. the smell of marijuana hung heavy in the air, only amplifying kyle's anxiety.

he'd never smoked weed before. he'd smoked a cigarette once in fourth grade as an experiment, and his lungs were otherwise virgin to any foreign vapors. he hadn't even tried one of your fruity vapes or kenny's menthol cigarettes, no matter how hard the two of you begged him to. he'd volunteered himself for this.

kenny finally finished up the blunt and bumped his shoulder against kyle's as he lit it, smiling around the butt of it.

"still down to smoke?" he asked, speech a bit muffled due to the object between his lips. kyle inhaled slowly and nodded, wiping his sweaty palms against his pant legs. you set one hand on his knee, the other assisting your thighs in holding the very expensive bong upright, and offering a soft curl of your lips. it left kyle feeling nervous for an entirely different reason.

"you really don't have to, ky," you hushed, eyes droopy and bloodshot from your smoke intake. he grinned shakily in return, heart hammering in his chest. he was nervous, sure, but there was a sort of rebellious excitement swelling in his chest.

"i know, baby," he responded in a soft tone, hand falling over yours where it rested against his leg. "i want to. i promise i'm choosing this for myself, not just for you two."

you nodded slowly with an accepting smile, letting your mouth fall against the bong in your lap and withdrawing your hand to light the bowl. kenny nudged kyle's shoulder, drawing the ginger's attention to the charming man at his other side. kenny offered up the blunt with thin fingers and a crooked smile. he swore in that moment he couldn't get enough of kenny's cocky grins.

the first hit was a shitshow. the sting hit his throat before his lungs, leaving him coughing to the point of tears. once he finally regained his ability to breathe correctly, kyle realized how lightheaded he was.

his entire body buzzed just beneath the skin, an excitable giggle bubbling up his throat and past his lips before he could stop it. he couldn't bring himself to be embarrassed, taken with the loopy detachment of his head from his shoulders.

the second hit wasn't nearly as bad, the coughing only minute and the smile on kyle's face growing. he wasn't sure he'd ever felt this nice in his entire life, save for the day he solidified his relationship with the loves of his life.

"you good, ky?" he heard your voice ask. it took his brain a few moments to piece together your question, his eyes trained on the curves and angles of your face. he reached a hand up, settling it against your cheekbone with a giddy smile.

"you're so beautiful," he whispered, happiness spewing over in his chest. "like, down to your soul and shit."

kenny burst out into laughter, which sent kyle into a fit of laughter, followed by your own giggling episode. once the laughter died down, kyle was staring intently at kenny as the blonde finished off the blunt in his grasp. his fumbling hands came to rest on kenny's closet leg, tugging on the fabric of his sweats. he couldn't help the lovesick sigh he let out, too entranced by both his insanely handsome boyfriend and this insanely good high.

"ken," he called, voice a bit louder than he intended. "i just want you to know that you are literally jesus. except, like, i'd die for you instead of the other way around."

kenny paused in his disposal of the roach, turning his loving gaze to his boyfriend. then he dragged his icy eyes to his other lover, who sat reclined on the couch, watching the interaction with a loving glint in your eyes.

"hopefully you never have to," the blonde murmured, turning his attention back to the sticky ginger practically crawling into his lap. "i'd never let that happen. y'know, since i'm jesus and shit."

cue another round of laughter.

#south park x reader #kyle broflovski x reader #kenny mcormick x reader

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dorisslut · 1 year

Note

Dori with female reader watching Alice in Borderland and reader gets horny when she saw Niragi and Dori gave her Niragi in bed??

Please and thank you

Thank you for the request! Sorry i haven’t been posting i have had many ideas in mind. I hope u enjoy! :)

You and dori were sitting in the living room watching alice in borderland, you guys were up to where Dori Niragi was making everyone vote for Aguni as leader. You didn’t recognize him with his long hair and all the piercings.

“How do you like him” you heard him whisper into your ear. You were confused because you didn’t think he came on yet.

“What?” as if on perfect timing he pointed to himself holding a gun up to Mira, doing a lewd movement with his tongue.

“That’s you?!” he nodded at you gently turning your face back to the screen. You couldn’t believe that was Dori, he looked so hot with the piercings and long hair, you leaned back in his embrace. As time went on and you kept watching, you felt yourself getting wetter.

You rubbed your thighs together, trying to get some sort of friction.

“Are you okay?” Dori looked over at you and paused the episode. As soon as you heard him you stopped you movements and turned to look at him.

“Yeah im okay, unpause it” You tried to turn away from him to look at the screen but he stopped you.

“Then why are you rubbing your thighs together under the blanket?” He tilted his head teasing you with a little hum at the end.

“I don’t know what your talking about.” He unpaused the show smirking and looking bad over. We got to season 2 the end of episode 1 and Niragi was burnt.

“You look pretty good burnt” You were still rubbing your legs together, your wetness still not going away. You thought maybe this time he wont notice it, he wasn’t acting like he knew.

He mumbled a quick ‘thank you’ and we continued watching.

“Can you pause it? I need to go to the bathroom really quick” he nodded and paused it, you didn’t know why he was being so short with you all of a sudden but you went to the bathroom and came back quick and sat next to him, unpausing the tv.

You checked the time and saw it was already almost 1 in the morning, you didn’t know you guys had been watching for so long.

“Ah finally we finished” Dori stood up to stretch so did you.

“So you want to tell me why you have been rubbing your thighs this whole time?” he bent down to your eye level with a grin on his face.

“What are you talking about?” You could feel that your panties were still extremely wet.

“You know exactly what i’m talking about” He was being rougher then usual, he was usually so sweet and gentle but right now he was more straightforward.

“Did you like Niragi?” You didn’t realize he was walking you towards the stairs, he picked you up and brought you upstairs to your bedroom. He dropped you onto the bed taking off his shirt before crawling over you kissing you.

You slid you hands up to his neck but before you could get fully around Dori Niragi grabbed your hands and pinned them above your head.

“No touching” he pulled away kissing and sucking at you neck. While his mouth was occupied with your neck his hand that wasn’t holding your wrists came down to get your shirt off.

He pulled away from your neck to get it above your head then going back to leaving hickeys but moving down to your hands above your head.

“please” you whimpered out wanting more from him.

“What do you want? You have to tell me or i wont know.” Dori Niragi was fidgeting with the back of your bra.

“Please take it off”

“Take what off?” now he was really pushing it.

“Anything! just please!” Dori Niragi finally takes your bra and starts to fondle with your breasts, Taking one of your now hard buds into his mouth flicking his tongue against it.

“Please i need more” you tangled your fingers in his black hair begging him to give you more.

“Stop being such a needy little bitch and take what i give you.” he slapped your face and moved down taking off your underwear, blowing a bit of air to tease you. Then coming back up to kiss you.

“Stop teasing please, need you so bad” He started traveling bad down to your sopping cunt. Dori Niragi ran his long slender fingers through your wet folds, sliding two finger into your soaking wet hole. You let out a cry feeling him suck on your clit, weaving your fingers into his hair.

“Please” Your thighs closed around his head as he quickens his fingers and sucks on your clit harder.

“Oh my god Dori i’m gonna cum!”

“Do it” You came right when he told you, he came back up tapping your chin.

“Open” You complied and he shoved his slender fingers into your mouth. You swirled your tongue around his digits.

“You want my cock baby?” You nodded around his fingers and felt the tip dragging against your clit. You whined wanting him to enter you already, Dori Niragi finally put his tip in slowly pushing his long cock into you.

He slowly pulled out till his tip was just out and slammed back into you.

“Oh god!” You cried out feeling tears form in the corners of your eyes. He pounded into faster hitting that’s spongy spot that has you seeing starts each time.

“You like that? this the spot?” You couldn’t even get any words out, the only word you could get was his name. You felt yourself clench around his cock and his thrusts were sloppy.

“Please Dori i’m going to cum!”

“Me to-shit cum with me” You both got to your climax together. Dori Niragi continued thrusting riding out your highs.

Once overstimulation hit you he slowly pulled out seeing his seed drop out of you, he pushed it back in with his fingers.

“Please, no more” You winced feeling his fingers pump in and out of you again.

“Just give me one more, i know you’ve got it in you.” Your legs started shaking feeling the knot getting tighter in you stomach. He made slow circles on your clit and you felt the knot snap, cumming around his fingers.

Dori went into the bathroom grabbing a went washcloth and coming to clean you up. He threw it back into the bathroom coming into bed with you. You were already dozing off and so was he.

“That was amazing y/n, thank you” You hummed, to tired to say anything back to him.

“Goodnight i love you” He pulled you to face him kissing you on the lips.

“I love you to Dori, goodnight”

A/n: I hope you enjoyed im sorry it took so long! <3

#dori sakurada oneshot #niragi imagine #aib niragi #niragi smut #dori sakurada imagine #dori sakurada x reader #niragi x reader #suguru niragi #dori sakurada #dori sakurada smut #netflix #aib #alice in borderland

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hbyrde36 · 25 days

Text

Chapter 2: Into My Heart

Written for the @strangerthingsreversebigbang

Art below and here by @glitterfang

Beta'd by @penny00dreadful

Rating: E | WC: 4371 | Chapters: 2/2 | AO3 Link

CW: Smut

Eddie tucked the bottle of whiskey, concealed in its nondescript brown paper bag, under his arm—freeing his hands to unlock the apartment door. Wine just wasn’t going to cut it tonight, he’d decided on his way home. Disappointment to this degree called for something stronger, and as luck would have it the liquor store was a convenient stop on his way.

“Honey! I'm home!” He called out, kicking the door closed behind him hard enough to shake the walls.

Chrissy startled, jumping about a foot in the air from her seat on the sofa. “Do you have to do that every time?”

He grinned, tossing his keys on the little table they kept by the door.

She flipped him off.

Their apartment was small, its entrance, living room, and kitchen all essentially one big room, and he could feel her eyes tracking his every movement as he crossed the space. Wordlessly he took a rocks glass out of the cabinet and sloshed about a shot and a half's worth of amber liquid into it from his newly acquired bottle, and downed it all in one go.

Could he have just used a shot glass? Probably. But this way was classier, and he liked the feel of the heavy bottomed cup in his hand. He’d drink the second one a little slower, maybe even add some ice.

“Well, that’s not a good sign. Hard session?” Chrissy asked.

Hard.

A manic laugh bubbled up from his throat as he thought back to the beginning of his appointment with Steve. “You could say that.”

“That’s… concerning.” She mumbled, upending her wine glass to catch the final drops before setting it down on the table. “Might as well just bring yourself and that bottle over here. Come sit, tell me all about it.”

Eddie was too keyed up to sit. He paced back and forth in front of the couch as he went through the whole thing detail by detail. He wasn’t sure what the ethics were of recounting the entire interaction for her, particularly the sensitive bits—about Steve's sensitive bits, but he supposed there was no such thing as tattooist/client confidentiality.

“Maybe she’s just like, a really close friend?” Chrissy said when he was done.

“No, Chris. I'm telling you, he basically called her his soulmate. You should have seen the way he glowed when he talked about her. It was like his whole stupidly-fucking-pretty face lit up from the inside.”

Chrissy groaned, taking a swig directly from his bottle, like a heathen, and slumped down in her seat.

“I want thaaaaat.” She whined.

Eddie plopped down hard next to her, heaving a sigh. “Don’t we all.”

In an attempt to put it all out of his mind and enjoy what was left of his Friday night in peace–-without being plagued by thoughts of cute little moles and dazzling hazel eyes, Eddie changed into comfy clothes, queued up the next episode in their Drag Race rewatch, and cuddled up next to Chrissy. Unfortunately, as hard as he tried to concentrate on the queens and the drama unfolding on the screen in front of him, he couldn't stop thinking about Steve. Not even the Snatch Game could hold his attention.

Apologies to you Jinkx Monsoon, Eddie mused regretfully. It’s not you, it’s me. You were wonderful.

After much hemming and hawing, and one too many woe-is-me sighs from his side of the couch, Chrissy yanked the remote out of his hand and hit pause.

Rude.

“Did you have something you needed to say, princess?”

Eddie grumbled. “I just wish I didn't have to see him again.”

“That’s dramatic.”

“What if you did it for me?”

“What? The tattoo?!”

“Come on, I'll owe you one—a big one. Just, I dunno, we'll let Steve show up for his appointment and then you’ll tell him I’ve got, like, food poisoning or whatever, and didn’t want to have to cancel on him at the last minute, so you’re going to finish up his color. I’ll show you the sketches—It’ll be great. It's more your style than mine anyway.”

Chrissy raised both eyebrows, crossing her arms over her chest. “Sounds like you’ve got it all worked out, Munson.”

“So you’ll do it?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Come on.” Eddie slid down to the floor, falling to his knees in front of her and lifting his hands in prayer. “Please?”

“No! This is ridiculous, Eddie! I can’t believe you’re even considering… What's the big deal anyway? So you thought he was cute, you both flirted a little, so what? Now you can’t even face the guy?”

She narrowed her eyes, staring down at his, admittedly, pathetic display. “You didn't do something embarrassing did you? Is there more to this story than you're telling me?”

“No.” Eddie reared back, giving up his wide-eyed begging which was clearly not working on her—damn lesbians and their immunity to his boyish charms—and pulled himself back up into his seat.

She hummed suspiciously.

“You don’t understand. He’s like, perfect.”

“Aww,” She cooed, wrapping him up in a one-armed hug. “You really have it bad for him don’t you?”

Eddie leaned into her, pouting. He couldn’t even argue.

She flicked his bottom lip. He flinched away.

“Ow!”

“No pouting!”

She huffed a laugh, but when he didn’t crack her mouth turned down into a sympathetic frown. “Are you absolutely sure there’s no hope?”

“Chris, he’s covering up one woman's name with a bird to represent another. He’s taken—and an idiot. A very hot, very sweet, kind to kids and old ladies, idiot. It’s over, that’s it, no chance.”

As if to mock the way he was dreading their upcoming appointment, the next six weeks flew by for Eddie in a blur, and before he knew it the day had arrived. It was another Friday afternoon appointment, apparently the only time Steve was available between his work schedule, spending time with his D&D loving adoptive brother, and whatever other altruistic endeavors he got up to in his daylight hours. Probably saving kittens from trees and shit.

At least he wouldn’t have to go through it alone this time, Chrissy had promised to stick around whether she had a client or not, though, he wasn't naive enough to think she was doing it solely out of the kindness of her heart. Oh no, she wanted to get a look at Steve with her own eyes and see what all the fuss was about.

Eddie paced back and forth in his studio, arranging and rearranging his supplies and setup as he watched the clock tick down to Steve’s arrival.

“Oh my god, since when did you become so high strung?” Chrissy gaped at him from the doorway.

He wondered how long she’d been watching him freak out.

“I don’t fucking know, alright?!” Eddie hissed, sitting down heavily in his desk chair. He picked up the color mock up of Steve’s tattoo, the one he’d be using as a reference, and ran a finger along the edge. “He just… I dunno, he weaseled his way inside me and now I can’t shake him.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Gross.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

The bell above the front door dinged, the sound carrying into his room, and Eddie peered back at the clock. Ten minutes early—the boy was punctual, he’d give him that.

Chrissy smiled mischievously, darting back out to the lobby. Eddie raced along behind trying to catch up, knowing full well it would be a bad idea to leave her alone with Steve for any length of time. She’d probably try to interrogate him or something.

Eddie locked eyes with the man of the hour the moment he slid around the corner, his shoes squeaking on the linoleum. An easy smile spread across Steve's face. He looked genuinely happy to see him, but that was probably due to the prospect of finally getting his tattoo finished.

“Eddie,” Steve released his name like a sigh of relief. “It’s good to see you.”

It sounded like he meant it, and If Eddie didn’t know better he’d think Steve had also spent the last 6 weeks pining, and thinking of their time together obsessively.

Until this moment he had held out hope that maybe somehow this time would be different. That maybe going into it knowing that Steve wasn’t available would make it easier to deny the pull he felt, but then he cast his eyes down and realized Steve was wearing those same fucking Levi’s again.

It’d been weeks. It could easily have been a coincidence, just the next clean pair of pants in his rotation, but there was no way Steve didn’t know what he looked like in those unholy jeans. Had he done this on purpose?

Either way, Eddie didn't know whether to be grateful for the view, or throw himself out the window into oncoming traffic.

Chrissy cleared her throat loudly.

Shit. He’d been staring too long again.

Eddie shook himself mentally. “Steve, this is Chrissy.”

“Nice to put a face to the name.” She said, giving a little wave.

Steve's eyes slid briefly to Eddie, narrowed and curious. Probably wondering why he’d told her about him at all.

He was gonna kill her.

“You too.” Steve said with a quirk of his brow. “Eddie told me how you two met and opened this place together. Must be great to get to work with your best friend everyday.”

“Could be worse I guess.”

Eddie cut her a hard look. “Don’t you have some cleaning to do?”

With a smirk, Chrissy winked at Steve, then mercifully did head off towards her own studio.

“We should go get started.” Eddie said, leading the way to the back to his room. “Sorry about her.”

Steve chuckled. “She seems nice. I think Robin would like her.”

Eddie clenched his jaw, turning away to hide his scowl. “I’m sure she would.”

Steve knew the drill now and took off his shirt without being asked, getting comfortable in the chair while Eddie slipped a pair of gloves on and pulled his stool over, examining the healed lines of the half-finished tattoo.

He hummed, impressed. “You did a good job taking care of it.”

Steve shrugged, but Eddie noticed the way he preened a little at the praise. “I did exactly what you told me to do.”

Fuck.

There was just something about a man who followed directions.

Eddie took a deep breath, blowing it out slowly through his nose. He was going to give himself whiplash at this rate.

He prepped Steve’s skin in silence and got right to his task, trying to focus on the thrumming of the machine, instead of the rise and fall of the other man’s chest under his gloved hands—thankful that Steve didn’t seem to be having the same reaction to the initial pain that he had before.

“I told Dustin about you.” Steve blurted out after a while.

The sudden sound of his voice, as well as the words themselves caught Eddie off guard.

“What?”

Steve’s body flushed and Eddie flicked his eyes up, finding a matching shade of pink spreading over his face. “Yeah, I'm pretty sure he thinks you're the coolest guy in the world now. A tattoo artist and you play D&D? I had no chance.”

“Oh.”

Eddie went quiet, not sure what he was supposed to do with that—with any of this. He got back to work, hoping Steve would leave it there. He didn’t want to be rude, but he also didn’t want to play whatever game this was anymore.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked. “You seem… I don't know… different today?”

Eddie could have said, how would you know, you’ve only met me once? Or, we spent a few hours together, why do you care? Or something else equally passive aggressive, but… Steve wasn’t wrong and Eddie wasn’t in the business of gaslighting people.

Telling a little white lie though? That was fair game.

“I have a headache, that’s all. It’s fine.”

It was fine. He just needed to do his job and get this over with.

But of course, Steve had to be perfect and sweet about that too.

“I’m sorry. I get migraines sometimes, so I get it. Doc says it’s from getting knocked in the head one too many times playing high school sports. I was very dedicated.”

Steve laughed a little at himself, and Eddie couldn't help but look up again to see the way his eyes crinkled with it. Steve tilted his head, mouth turned up at the corners as he gazed down at Eddie. “Doesn’t seem worth it, in hindsight.”

Despite trying not to, Eddie smiled back and could feel himself getting drawn in again.

He forced himself to turn away.

“Are you sure you're alright, though?” Steve continued. “If you're not feeling well–”

“I’m fine. I'm not going to mess your ink up or anything, don’t worry.”

“Hey,” Steve said tenderly, waiting until Eddie had stilled the machine again to lay a tentative hand on his upper arm. “I wasn't worried about that.”

“Oh.” Eddie swallowed a gasp, feeling like his skin was on fire under the touch.

“We can reschedule if you need to, it’s okay.”

Fuck, Steve was entirely too thoughtful.

And what was Eddie even doing? Trying to be cold and aloof, pretending to have a headache to explain why he wasn’t talking? It wasn’t fair to the guy. It wasn’t Steve’s fault he’d developed an extremely inconvenient crush—that he couldn’t handle a little innocent friendly flirtiness without losing his mind.

“No. I promise I'm–”

I’m just an idiot.

“I, uh, took some ibuprofen before you got here. I’m already feeling better.”

Finally, Steve let it go, allowing Eddie to get back to work without disturbing the quiet between them again. At least now the silence was almost comfortable.

Art by Glitterfang

The time went by quickly. Eddie did glance up every so often to make sure Steve was okay, always surprised to find the other man’s eyes fixed on his face, rather than the tattoo, making Eddie’s stomach flip each time.

The finished piece was beautiful, and honestly Eddie thought it might be some of his best work, even if it wasn’t his usual style. After a thorough cleaning he held a mirror up so Steve could see it better. He teared up a bit as he inspected his reflection.

“It's even better than I could have imagined.” Steve turned away from the mirror to face him, smiling and looking so sincere it made Eddie’s heart ache. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome. I’m really glad you’re happy with it.” Eddie bit at his bottom lip. “Well, you already know your care instructions, so i’ll get this wrapped up and you’ll be good to–”

Steve cut him off abruptly. “Do you… um, I mean, could I get your number?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Steve.” Eddie said, heart hammering in his chest. He couldn't do this. He didn’t want to only be Steve’s friend, and if somehow the other man wanted his number for more than that, well, he didn’t want to be a homewrecker either.

Steve deflated, looking hurt, which was a little ridiculous considering he was the one with a whole-ass girlfriend. “But I thought maybe… since we’re done now, and I’m not a client anymore–”

“Look,” Eddie interrupted. “It’s sweet that you want to be friends or whatever, but–”

“No, I–”

“Knock-knock” Chrissy sing-songed, appearing in the doorway rapping her knuckles on its frame. “There’s someone here to see Steve.”

Saved by the bell.

“We’re about done if you want to tell them to just–”

“Great, I'll send her in!”

Her?

Eddie was gonna kill Chrissy, for real this time.

Worst. Friend. Ever.

A very cute girl with a chin length bob bounced into the room. Eddie got as far as noticing the spray of freckles across her nose and cheeks before he had to look away, using cutting down a square of Saniderm to the correct size as an excuse.

She wasn’t quite what Eddie had pictured as the girlfriend of a gym bro—okay, Steve wasn’t exactly a gym bro but Eddie was allowed to be salty about it in his own mind if he wanted to—but to his dismay, they made a nice looking couple.

“Hey Dingus, how’s it going?” She said.

Odd term of endearment, but okay.

“Eddie, this is Robin.” Steve said.

“Yeah I figured that one out all on my own, thanks.” Eddie muttered, rolling back up to Steve on his chair with the bandage in hand.

Steve furrowed his brow, staring from Eddie over to Robin and back again. Suddenly his eyes went wide. “My roommate, Robin.”

“O… kay?” Eddie shrugged, ducking his head to start covering the tattoo. Weird fucking way to refer to your live-in girlfriend, but whatever. He was over it. He just wanted to get the happy couple out of his tattoo shop so he could go home and–

Eddie sucked in a breath as Steve lightly gripped his arm again. He looked up, ready to be annoyed—the audacity of this guy to keep flirting with him, right in front of his girlfriend, but stopped short when he saw the soft pleading look in Steve’s eyes.

“My best friend, platonic with-a-capital-p, lesbian roomate, Robin.”

Wait, what?

“Wait, what?!” Eddie nearly shouted.

He whipped his head around to look at Robin again. He’d only glanced at her before, not noticing much more than her hair and denim jacket, but on closer inspection he saw her neatly trimmed manicure, and the fact that she was wearing men’s jeans with a carabiner holding her keys hanging from one of the belt loops.

None of those things were a guarantee of course, plenty of straight women also kept short nails and had masculine leaning senses of style, but when he spotted the pink, white, and orange stripes of the lesbian flag stitched into her lapel, he figured that was as sure a sign as any.

“Oh.” Eddie breathed, turning back to Steve.

“Yeah, oh.” Steve parroted back softly, his mouth spreading into a tentative smile.

“B- but I thought… and the tattoo!” Eddie stuttered.

“Is that why you were acting so weird? Because you thought Robin was my–” Steve shook his head as if that very idea were unthinkable. “You thought that I was covering up my ex's name with a new girlfriend?”

Eddie squirmed. “...No.”

“Eddie?”

“Well, what was I supposed to think?!”

“Oh shit, were you jealous?!” Robin blurted out.

“Robin!” Steve hissed.

“Oh I'm sorry,” she said, tilting her head side-to-side, the words absolutely dripping with sarcasm. “Was I supposed to pretend the tension in here wasn’t thick enough to choke on?”

Eddie bit his tongue, locking eyes with Steve. Steve broke first, letting out a loud but very adorable snort of laughter.

Robin’s face went bright red, realizing what she’d said.

“Birdie, can you just give us a minute?” Steve asked her, when he’d regained control of himself.

“Fine,” She sighed. “But I'm only going because Chrissy said she’d pierce my nose for free.”

“Slut.”

“Shut up.”

Robin moved to leave but paused on the threshold, looking back at them over her shoulder. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” She called out, taking hold of the knob and pulling the door to his studio shut behind her.

Eddie wasn’t sure it’d ever been closed before.

“So, when you asked me for my number?”

Steve nodded. “It was because I wanted to ask you out.”

“I’m such an idiot.”

Steve reached out to tuck a stray curl behind Eddie’s ear. “Does that mean maybe you’ve changed your mind about me calling you?”

Eddie eyed up the now closed door and let himself do what he’d wanted to since the first time Steve sat shirtless in his chair, and climbed up onto it, straddling the other man’s lap.

“Is this okay?” He asked, hovering his mouth over Steve’s, close enough that a hard thought would have their lips brushing.

“Yes.” Steve whispered, leaning in to close the almost non-existent space between them.

It was tentative and unsure at first, the way Steve’s lips moved against his own, testing—tasting, but then he whined, a high-pitched and needy sound deep in his throat that went straight to Eddie’s dick, and opened his mouth wide.

Eddie took it for the invitation it was and licked inside, their tongues sliding together as their bodies did the same, grinding and making out like a couple of teenagers in the backseat of a car, both growing hard.

Suddenly Steve broke the kiss, panting, “Wait, wait, wait.”

“Shit. Sorry, I shouldn’t have–” Eddie tried to climb off but found himself held firmly in place by Steve’s broad hands on his waist.

“No, please. I just need to know… is this only a hookup for you?” Steve asked once he’d caught his breath. “It’s okay if it is,” he added quickly. “I just hoped–”

The rest of Steve’s words were lost to a gasp as Eddie ran fingers through his hair, gently tilting his head to the side for better access to the other man’s speckled neck. Eddie scraped his teeth gently over Steve’s pulse point, licking up the column of his throat to speak low and close to his ear. “While I do fully intend on sucking your dick here and now, if you’ll let me–”

Steve whined again, hips thrusting up and into Eddie of their own accord.

Eddie shuddered, pressing a kiss to the skin just behind Steve's ear and finally sat back, looking him in the eye. “I’m not really into hookups, not anymore, and I would love to take you out after.”

Steve's eyes fluttered, watching heavy-lidded and open mouthed as Eddie slid down his body until he was eye level with the obvious bulge in his pants, nosing over it.

“Not before?” Steve croaked out, struggling to speak as Eddie teased him mercilessly.

Eddie rested his cheek against Steve’s denim covered cock, looking up at him through the thick curtain of his lashes. “Sweetheart, I've been dying to get my lips wrapped around you since the first time you got hard in my chair. If it’s alright with you, dinner can wait.”

“Fuck.” Steve bit down on his bottom lip and wound a hand into Eddie’s messy bun, nails scratching at his scalp.

“So, what do you say?” Eddie asked, smoothing his hands up Steve’s luscious thighs, resting them on either side of his fly as he waited for an answer.

Steve brought his other hand down to cup Eddie’s face running a thumb over his cheek. “It’s a date.”

Eddie grinned, making quick work of Steve's button and zipper, working his pants and underwear down just enough to let his hard length spring free.

Fuck it was pretty.

Not that that was a surprise. Everything about Steve was pretty.

Eddie flicked his tongue out, tasting the tip of him, dipping his tongue into the slit to capture a bit of precum that had spilled out.

“I’m not going to last very long.” Steve rasped.

“How long has it been since someone touched you?” Eddie asked, pressing an open mouthed kiss to the pink head of his cock.

Steve whimpered. “Too long.”

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll fix that. Just sit back and let me take care of you, okay?”

As much as he wanted to take his time and enjoy the feel of Steve sitting heavy on his tongue, for hours or days, those thighs pressing in on either side of him, Eddie was acutely aware that Robin and Chrissy were within earshot, and the door Robin had so helpfully closed did not have a lock. Quick and dirty was probably for the best.

Hopefully he would have many more opportunities to enjoy Steve at his leisure, assuming their date went well.

Eddie sank down, keeping his lips tight around Steve’s shaft as he took inch after inch of him inside, until he was nose deep in coarse curly hair.

It’d been a while for Eddie too, since he’d been with anyone like this, but it was like riding a bike, once you’ve mastered the art of taking a cock down your throat—you never forget.

Steve gripped the back of his head harder, not quite holding him down the way Eddie really wanted him to, but enough to let him know he was there. Eddie moaned around him as he began to bob his head, setting a rough pace that had Steve making the most debauched sounds above him.

“God, m’so close already, Eddie.” Steve cried out in warning, taking his hand away to give him the option of moving back. As if he’d waste the opportunity to taste him.

Eddie doubled his efforts, nearly choking himself for how deep he took Steve down, swallowing around him over and over again until finally he came—hot and thick and a little bitter, but oh so wonderful.

He didn’t pull off until Steve was soft in his mouth and writhing from oversensitivity.

Steve immediately pulled him back up into his lap, crashing their mouths together, moaning into the kiss when he undoubtedly caught a taste of himself on Eddie’s tongue.

Eventually Eddie broke the kiss, helping Steve tuck himself away and wiggle back into his jeans. He ignored his own arousal, content with this moment being all about Steve, anxious to keep his promise about taking the other man out on a real date.

“So, where would you like to go? What’s your favorite restaurant in the city?” He asked, settling himself back down into Steve’s lap once his clothing was back in place.

“What if instead we went back to my place,” Steve began, pulling him in close, dragging his lips over Eddie’s collarbone as he spoke. “I cook for us, you let me return the favor, and you can take me out to dinner next time.”

Eddie sucked in a sharp breath as Steve palmed him where he was already so painfully hard in his own jeans. “Already planning a second date?”

“And a third and a fourth. Is that okay?”

“Sounds perfect.”

#steddie fanfic #stranger things reverse big bang #tattoo artist eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steve harrington/eddie munson #steddie fic #chrissy cunningham #robin buckley #strbb

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ctimenefic · 3 months

Text

So @strawberry-daiquiris wrote an incredible F1 Traitors AU (seriously, go read it) and was kind enough to let me paddle around in the Galex end of the pool.

Many thanks to @latecomersprivilege, for whom this is a belated birthday gift, an almost on time Valentine's gift, and ultimately not what she asked for but what she's getting!

It’s a month since the last episode aired and George hasn’t messaged him.

Oh, he’s in the group chat - he’s the admin of the group chat. He’s posting memes, even the ones about himself, nearly every day. Asking very sincerely after people’s partners, their kids. Adding little crying laughing emojis to almost all the jokes. (Almost all - never Alex’s. Not even once. Which. Come on. Checo’s not even that funny.)

So. Yeah, it’d been bad, at the end, at their last round table together, George damp eyed and smiling through it and Alex nearly fumbling his own defence trying to tell him one more time “it’s just a game”.

But. Like. Not so bad as to cancel out everything else. Or at least, Alex had thought so. Hoped so.

It’s been a month.

Hey just wondering if we shd have a coffee or smthg? Clear the air?

Sure. When?

Nxt wk? Peckham?

(George told him all about his little flat in Dulwich, how he properly loved all the twee village-y shit like the wooden sign-posts and bougie cafes, in their murmured conversations in the hotel corridors, heads ducked together and voices low. Alex had taken the piss, but so softly he’d barely recognised his own cadence. That- that had been the first clue, before he’d started noticing how George’s adams apple bobbed when he got loud.

But Dulwich is packed to the brim with Traitors fans, has to be, all middle class mums and families that gather round the telly of an evening to actually spend time together. They’d be spotted in seconds. So Peckham feels safer, crowded and anonymous and too fucking cool to pay attention if Alex has to get on his knees and beg George to- to-)

The cafe’s still a bit posh, which means it’s basically deserted. George is wearing the kind of T-shirt that only fits that well because it’s expensive.

He’s ordered tea already, and Alex wants to remind him to drink up, like he did at breakfast every morning, because George would always get too into their conversation to finish before it got cold. He’d slug it back anyway, wincing, and Alex would pretend to ignore the line of his throat.

“I’m sorry you didn’t win,” George blurts. “I know I- I didn’t help, I know, but after, I did want it to be you. You’d worked so hard.”

Alex stares at him. “I never thought I would. Maybe near the end, a bit, but. Well. I got lucky.”

George pulls a face. “Come on, you were brilliant at it. So convincing. I really thought I’d find out you were, like, an actor or something.”

George smiles at that, small and tight. “Oh, yeah, the office have been so weird about it. Saying they didn't watch, and then making jokes that prove they did. I've stopped paying attention to it.”

Alex tries to laugh, like it’s a joke. Like he hadn’t talked George’s ear off about the practice. How he’d use the money, if they won - as Faithful - to get back to his veterinary degree, properly qualify. “Nah, still at my old place. They’ve, uh, let me take the backroom stuff for a bit, while it dies down.”

Alex nods. Pretends George has got better at lying. “Hope they're not being nasty.”

“Oh, not too bad.” The ‘too’ makes Alex want to snarl, set his teeth in someone's neck. Bastards. And George's blasé tone runs a little thin as he goes on. “Might quit, actually, try the influencer thing for a bit. It's basically the same as sales, just, you know. Different product.”

“You'd be good at that,” Alex tries. “Influential. I'd be, uh, influenced.” In the time it takes George to blink three times, Alex experiences all nine levels of hell and a few more added just for him.

I'd be influenced. Christ.

“How are you doing with that, sponsorships and stuff?” George asks and Alex shrugs. He’s got his fans, the ones who think he was robbed, rather than bottled it. His Insta’s big, now, not millions but, like, decent. Marketable. Problem is, he isn’t.

“Turns out, being known as a really good liar doesn’t get loads of hashtag spon ops,” he says, trying to keep it light. Like money hadn’t been the whole point. George’s face falls, the first unrehearsed expression Alex has seen all morning.

“Oh crikey, I’m sorry, I didn’t- cause it’s been alright, and I was a traitor too, at the end so-”

“Yeah, but I forced you into it, didn’t I? I’m the bad guy.” There’s a decent TikTok edit of him to that Billie Eilish song, all his smiles and laughs and fond looks, set to the beat of sociopathy. It’s very slick; turned his stomach on the second watch. “Plus, you know, you look like that, which probably helps.”

He knows it’s been more than alright for George. He hasn’t liked any of his Instagram posts, too… proud? ashamed? But he’s seen them all, including the Stories, so George must know he’s been there. Or maybe he doesn’t, maybe there’s hundreds of people, and they’re not mutuals, he remembers abruptly. George didn’t follow him back.

He flips his phone in his hands, once, twice; worries at the crack in the screen down by the bottom right corner, just enough to feel the scrape against the pad of his thumb.

George notices, of course. Those big blue eyes, all the better for spotting clues. Terrible at knowing what they meant. “Do you wanna take a picture for insta then? Show people it’s all water under the bridge?”

“Uh, not really? I mean…” it doesn’t feel under the bridge, or air cleared. Alex still feels like he’s choking on it.

That small wrinkle he used to make fun of appears between George’s brows. “Wasn’t that the point of this?”

“Jesus, no, I’m not-” Alex feels sick, properly sick, hot chocolate coming back on him for a second. “I wanted to be friends - I want to be friends. Again.”

“Again,” George repeats, after a beat.

Alex swallows. Presses the tip of his tongue against the edge of his front teeth, where they turn sharp enough to cut, like a bit of pain now will soothe the sucking void where his stomach used to be. “Right, no, of course. Forget it, look, I'll get these and-”

George catches his wrist before he can make a break for it. His thumb lands in the soft spot between the tendons, where Alex’s pulse beats - ha - traitorously fast.

“Wait. You haven't told me how your mum is. And your sisters. And Luca, obviously, and the cats.”

“The cats?”

“Yeah, obviously. Can't go before I hear about the cats, ‘Lex. All of them. So you should probably, um, sit back down.”

So he does.

#my fic #f1 rpf fic #f1 rpf #galex #traitors au #an attempt was made #there's probably a part two where they Actually Kiss but good luck future me on writing that

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aki-shun · 2 years

Text

Part II

Jack an Leona is here!!!

I'm so sorry for this episode being late but DA DAA is here :D

Warning: HUMAN

⚡️Sebek ZIGVOLT⚡️

You can't be thinking this guy is bottom of a HUMAN

A HUMAN(!)

Nah

He's not

He's TOP

Everytime

And you can't change it

First of all, it's a miracle you're even dating this guy

How did you convince him?!

This boy totally hates you

Because you are a HUMAN

And that's enough for him to hate you

But you keep bothering him

You do your best to make him go out with you

You're trying even though he's always rejecting you

He secretly likes it but can't admit it

Tsundere boy 2

HUMAN, if you really love me and you want to date, PROVE IT!

Valley of Thorns is a bit old-fashioned, I guess

Valley of thorns in the virginity and having a relationship are important and sacred, I guess..

So he will want it with you

No problem for him

Even if he doesn't admit it, he likes you too and wants to have sex with you

'Cause when that happens you won't be able to break up with him even if you wanted to

Having a relationship with someone you love is sacred and if you get involved with someone, you can no longer break up with them

You were in your dorm room

Sebek hadn't even gotten out of the shower yet

!Please clean before intercourse. This is important for the health of both you and your partner!

You're so excited because you barely made eye contact with Sebek, let alone a date

But now you're gonna have sex with him

Lucky Boy~

Sebek got out of the shower and approached you

Damn he was so sexy with his hair down

And that wet body from years of training

Fuck it, you're glorious

You already had a slight blush on your face

He took lubricant from the nightstand and poured it on his hands and fingers

After he poured enough, he stuck two fingers in your hole.

You shivered, the coldness of the lubricant and Sebek's thick(?) fingers disturbed you, but you did not give in

You tried to suppress his moans as his fingers sheared your insides

Because Grim was sleeping in the room and the ghosts could hear you and come

You didn't want two possibilities so you were covering your mouth with one hand

After Sebek finished prepping you, he poured some of the lubricant on his own cock

You could see that he was looking at you with serious and cold eyes when he looked at his face, but the redness on his cheeks and ears was enough to tell how he was feeling

He got into you in a way that wasn't very slow and gentle

A deep moan escaped your throat

Then Sebek's cock twitched inside you and you felt it

The Sebek bed began to slide into you at a speed that wouldn't make much of a noise

As time progressed, Sebek's movements and pace began to become more rigid

The more he increased his speed, the harder it was to suppress his moans

Sebek turned you around and buried your face in the pillow and lifted your ass in the air

(for the reader who didn't understand the positions and showered me with questions at six in the morning: dog position)

Sebek squeezed your hips, pushing himself harder on you

Your drool and tears soiled your pillow

Your moans were absorbed by your pillow, but they were loud enough for Sebek to hear

As Sebek neared the climax, he was pushing himself harder and faster at you

The harder Sebek pressed herself against you, the more your hole and your walls clung to him

Sebek leaned over you, resting his chest on your back

With his mouth close to your left ear and he said

I see you love me, enough to you get fucked by me, HUMAN. Look how your goddamn hole is wrapping my cock. Are you ready to be under me forever?

He was saying this in your ear in a contemptuous tone

Your face was still buried in the pillow

Then Sebek straightened up and slapped your ass hard

You ejaculated with this hard hit and all your cum spilled on the sheets

A sharp scream came out of your mouth

Enough to wake grim and the ghosts

But they didn't wake up or come

Lucky~ one wink

Sebek leans over you again

I asked you a question, HUMAN. There's a half-fairy in front of you, now answer my question.

You nodded, your body still shaking from the sudden discharge

Then Sebek started to move harder with a smug grin

Pressing himself in the deepest

All the cum was pouring into your inside

A HUMAN like you should be grateful to be accepted by me.

But you were grateful to god that Grim or the ghosts didn't wake up :)

I'll post the article for Ruggie later because I'll write it as both top and bottom.

#twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst #twst smut #twisted wonderland × male reader #twisted wonderland × bottom male reader #bottom male reader #male reader #sebek zigvolt #twst sebek #sebek x male mc #sebek x male reader #school and homework are so tiring #Part III will come #im sorry for this late:#this bastard is satisfying his ego with you

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silens-oro · 1 year

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Spoils of War: 7. The Wheel

Aemond Targaryen x F!Targaryen!Reader Minor side relationships with the reader will be present throughout this.

Spoils of War Masterlist Masterlist

Synopsis: The Wheel of War begins to turn.

Word Count: ~18k (absolutely absurd)

General Warning: 18+. POTENTIAL SPOILERS FOR UPCOMING HOTD EPISODES. Targaryen uncle/niece incest (lite, nothing truly weird other than they are both Targaryens), blood, gore, murder, child murder, animal sacrifice (not really but I'm warning still), nudity, ptsd, mention of r*ape (none occurs). Let me know if I've missed any!

AN: This took way longer to finish than I anticipated it would. By the time I finished writing, this chapter was over 20k words. I had to do some major edits, and throw some of the bulk into the next chapter. I've adored the feedback I've received on this story, so please keep sending it in! From this point forward, it is going to get very messy, very quickly. Thank you all for reading! This story is a literal labor of love that has taken many, many weeks of writing DAILY and editing to get to this point. I've never felt the attachment to anything I've written like I feel to this story, so I hope you're all enjoying it as much as I am.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are highly appreciated.

A putrid smell hit Aemond’s nostrils as he stepped down the staircase leading to the dungeon. It smelled of death and decay, and was absolutely unmistakable. A stone catapulted to the pit of his stomach, the dread that seeped through him was enough to make him sick if the smell alone didn’t.

Aemond had been absent for the last week due to princely duties as his grandsire called them. They were nothing more than to show the might of Vhagar to those who toed the line of support to the Green’s cause. Duty was duty, nonetheless, but Aemond could not return to you quick enough.

The first thought he had as he entered the dungeon was that you perished, by your own hand most likely. His Shadow, as she had done in his absences previous, was supposed to check in on you nightly. By the smell, the decay was days along. His Shadow probably feared what he would do should he find out his beloved had accomplished what he tried so hard to prevent. She was right, of course. No death would be quick enough for her, and he would find her -he promised himself. He’d skin the little wretch alive with his bare hands when he caught her.

Aemond kept his torch in front of himself to illuminate the stale darkness. A squelching noise was the first sound to meet his keen ears. It was faint, but present. He brought the sleeve of his coat to his nose to alleviate some of the stench that permeated the air. It was sickly sweet and rancid with a copper tinge to it that turned his stomach. His feet moved quickly over the dusty floor to reach your cell.

Aemond saw that the door to the cell was ajar before the rest of the cell came into view. His heart pounded as he stopped at the foot of it. A body, swarmed with devouring rats, was on the floor. Dark, clotted blood surrounded it as the rats munched at what was left of the soft tissue of the person’s legs and innards. The face was covered by your wool blanket, seemingly untouched by the vermin.

As Aemond crouched down with the torch, the rats scurried in all directions -squealing at the intrusion- but a rat with a stump for a paw stood in the furthest corner, watching his every move.

Aemond quickly tossed the blanket from the body and relief immediately filled him when he saw dark hair in place of Targaryen silver, but that relief quickly turned to rage and anxiety. He stood swiftly, kicking the dirty blanket to the side.

“Idiot girl!” He seethed at the body, breathing heavily. He brought a hand to his head and paced to sooth his growing panic.

His hand ran down his face as he glared at the decaying body of his Shadow with absolute hatred filling his eye. His angular mouth was set in a sneer at the reality that was facing him. So many thoughts and questions swirled through his mind as he tried to piece together what had happened. How did you lure his Shadow into the cell? How did you break free? How did you escape from the dungeon without being seen?

Aemond’s eyes caught sight of your open shackles and the single key that lay discarded on the ground next to them. His eye narrowed and he looked down at the girl once more. He could see bloody slits in the girl’s shirt where the rats hadn’t chewed through quite yet.

She had a weapon, he thought. She did not escape on her own.

The next thought he had was what would happen if you made it out of King’s Landing. Surely you’d return to Dragonstone -back to your father. Ravens would surely descend upon the Keep, alerting his mother of what he had done. That the Princess was alive and had been alive this whole time. Whatever her reaction would be, his grandsire’s would surely be thrice as bad.

The tendrils of madness scratched at the far corners of his mind as he tried to think five steps ahead.

If he had stolen you once, he would most assuredly be able to do it again. You were his, after all.

Aemond loathed the filth of Flea Bottom, and once more he was in search of someone hiding amongst the shit, piss, and rats. He hoped you hadn’t gone too far and that you were still holed up somewhere in the city. If you were, he’d be able to flush you out.

Though his hood was covering his face, he did not blend in. His face was easily recognizable and it only took one single person to stop him in his tracks.

“Have you lost something, my Prince?” A woman spoke brazenly as she stepped out of a doorway he passed. Her eyes were reminiscent of a snake’s as they zeroed in on him. Aemond had half a mind to ignore the woman, but something about the way she looked at him let him know she knew exactly who he was looking for.

“Perhaps.” He did not give the woman more than that.

“Perhaps,” She mirrored with an arch of her brow. “Is it a bird that has escaped its cage?” She asked coyly. “It…is…a bird you are looking for, my Prince?” Aemond’s eye turned to a slit.

“A bird?”

“Hm…swore I saw a little wren fly to the ports not six nights past. However, if it is not a wren you are looking for, I apologize for the interruption, my Prince. I wish you luck in your endeavor.” She bowed and turned to recede back into the darkness of the pitiful dwelling, but Aemond was quick to stop her. She turned her chin over her shoulder and raised a sparse brow at him.

“…What do you know of this…wren?” The woman grinned and nodded for him to follow behind her. Aemond looked around him, deeming the coast clear of any onlookers, and followed her in.

Aemond returned to the Red Keep after dark with no further luck on your current whereabouts, other than you had fled on a ship in the cover of night with a handful of Northerners.

The Warden of the North came to fetch his bride, was what the woman told him. The words alone nearly set him into a rage. He was so careful, so very careful to keep your whereabouts a secret, and now it was all for naught.

Aemond’s anxiety peaked when he entered the Keep as he was met with absolute chaos. Guards were stationed at every entrance, at every staircase. They were stationed at every “secret” entrance and all had their eyes on the lookout. For what, he didn’t know.

“The Queen Dowager requests your presence at once, my Prince.” A guard fetched Aemond as he saw the Prince stride into the Keep. “It is of the utmost urgency.”

A new mess to clean up, no doubt, he thought to himself with a roll of his eye. He turned on his heel to follow the guard to his mother’s solar where he could hear an awful wailing from within as he turned down the hall. Aemond’s brows furrowed when he opened the door, and his jaw nearly hit the floor at what he saw inside.

The man who carried you through King’s Landing helped you step off the ship and onto the docks of Dragonstone. Once your feet hit the solid wood, you took a breath to center yourself. It took a moment to stabilize yourself on shaky legs as he held onto your arms.

“Can you walk?” The man asked, his voice deep and his northern accent thick. Looking up into his dark eyes, you nodded with a grateful smile.

“Thank you.” You whispered sincerely. Thank you for pulling me out of the dungeon. Thank you for carrying me through King’s Landing. Thank you for delivering me home.

“You are most welcome, Princess.” For the first time, he gave you a kind smile and a nod. His gaze moved over your head and you turned to follow where he was looking.

There, at the beginning of the dock, stood your father with Ser Erryk and Ser Lorent. Your father’s hair blew with the breeze and painted a serene portrait of ferocity and stateliness. Your legs were moving towards him before your brain could catch up. Once your eyes connected with his, your father rushed down the docks with long, hurried steps to meet you in the middle. His arms wrapped you in an embrace that you wished to never part from.

He held you -oh he held you. He squeezed you to him as hard as he could as you sobbed into his chest. His scent that was undeniably home wafted into your senses and it all became too much too soon. Your father’s outward display of affection, in front of such an audience, was a rarity and it told you just how dire your disappearance was to him.

Your rescuers stayed back to let you have your moment with your father.

“There are horses and provisions ready for your journey,” Your father motioned to the top of the dunes. “For Lord Stark,” He held a scroll out.

“Can they not rest here for the night, father?” You questioned. Surely those who risked their necks for you deserved a moment to breathe.

“We thank you for the extension, my Princess, but we do have a long journey ahead of us. We must reach the North before the worst of winter hits if we are to make the journey in as little time as possible.” The woman spoke as she walked up to take the scroll and secure it in the satchel around her shoulder.

“This will not be forgotten.” Your father stated, his eyes holding contact with the woman. She merely nodded with a small grin and bowed. The man who carried you followed suit, and the rest of the men on the boat followed silently as they trailed behind.

“My girl.” Your father spoke in your native tongue as he held your face in his hands, looking you up and down to survey the damage that had been done, noting just how shattered the light in your eyes had become. “What has he done to you?” His voice shook. Never, not once in your life, had you heard his voice tremble. He pulled you into his chest once more.

You shook your head as you held onto him with everything you had. The warmth of your father’s embrace was a comforting security blanket. Nothing and no one could harm you from within his arms.

You longed for your bed with each step you took. An awful pain grew in the back of your eyes as you were led through the archway that opened into the Keep. The sights and sounds of the world outside of your cell were overwhelming -even still, weeks later. You rubbed at your eyes as you followed behind your father. The instant change from sunlight to shadow was a relief.

Jaws dropped as you passed by servants and guards. You noted a handmaid scurry to the western wing, no doubt to spread the news of your resurrection.

You must’ve looked a sight. Dressed in an oversized tunic and trousers that were fastened to your waist with a strand of rope, as well as some boots that were clearly a size too big on your feet. Your clothes alone were well below your station, but they were clean and that was more than you had in that cell for weeks at a time.

The mess of hair on your head was another story entirely. The salty air and briney water were not kind to it. You hadn’t a clue what your own face looked like. While you had bathed on the small vessel, you did not dare look upon your own reflection in the water. Though the temptation was there, you did not know if your mind could survive looking upon the monster that would surely be looking back.

Your father led you up to the council chambers. The room, to your surprise, was empty as you entered. Natural light filtered in from the high windows, but that was all that gave life to the otherwise dark room.

“Sit.” Your father instructed, motioning to the chair at the furthest end of the table. He then nodded to both Queen’s Guards and they set off in opposite directions. A heavy silence overtook the room. Not a single thought flowed through your mind as your father paced for a moment before dropping down into a squat beside your knee.

His eyes held yours in a hypnotizing stare. “I have never felt more relief than I did when you stepped off that ship, byka hontes.” Birdie. It was a nickname you hadn’t heard since you were a child. Your love for the skies at such a young age had graced you with the moniker by your father and your father alone.

As you grew older, he began to treat you more and more like a Princess grown and less like the perpetually small child that clinged onto his legs, and the name soon faded into the deep recesses of your mind until it was merely a memory lost to time.

Daemon’s hands gently held your scabbed wrists, his thumbs rubbing the puffy, pink scars where the scabs had fallen. “Aemond held you in irons?” You nodded, breaking the eye contact between you.

“He was adamant on keeping me under lock and key…until the war ended, anyway. My shackles would only then be metaphorical.” Your father wanted to tell you he saw this coming -the look in his eyes said as much. As happy as he was to have you within reach once more, it was also in his nature to boast when his warnings were not heeded. Surprising you, he did not so much as utter the words ‘I told you so’. Instead, he decided to speak on something so much worse.

“I am asking this before anyone else enters this room, and it shall never be brought up again if you so wish it, but I must know…” Your eyes turned to look into his once more. “Did Aemond force himself on you?” Your face melted into a look of disgust.

“My maidenhead is the first thing you question? After all I’ve been through? After all we’ve lost?” Anger began to build. Daemon shook his head, holding a hand out to keep you seated. His brows were furrowed in irritation.

“No, you silly girl.” The term ‘silly girl’ was never used teasingly when he called you it, and it always struck a nerve when he said it. “I worry for you. I don’t give two shits about your maidenhead.” He returned just as angrily. “I wish to know if my daughter was defiled, if there is a chance that you carry that cunt’s seed in your womb. It will be dealt with if he did, rest assured.” Your stomach clenched at the thought. Your anger had passed on to something along the lines of anxiety as you shook your head.

“He did not, and he would not.” You answered stoically. “Aemond would not force himself on anyone, much less me, father. In that I can promise you. There were plenty of opportunities and not once did he attempt it.” Where Aemond drew the line between what he believed would be acceptable and unacceptable in the eyes of the Seven baffled you as his own morals were so wildly skewed.

“You think he is incapable of such depravity?” The question was asked as if you were stupid, naive. A silly girl.

“I think any man is capable of such depravity, but I know he would not do it, much less do it to me.” You said adamantly.

“There was also a time when you didn’t think it was in his character to cause you harm, to hold you in chains.” He responded point blank. “And yet your brother is dead, you were taken, and we’ve lost two dragons. Because of him!” He raised his voice. “Tell me once more how well you know him!” Your eyes narrowed and a deep frown sat heavily upon your mouth. You did not blame your father for how he lashed out, not after what he and your mother had surely dealt with -are still dealing with. It still hurt, nonetheless.

“I am not defending him, father. You asked a question and I gave you my answer. You need not remind me of what has been lost. I was there. I saw it. I felt it. I heard it.” You stated defiantly. “I harbor enough guilt in my heart that I do not need to be lectured on it.” You were tired -exhausted- and his line of questioning was beginning to eat away at your patience.

A gasp from the top of the staircase broke the growing tension. Your father stood upright, but did not move from his place next to you. You also stood in respect to your Queen Mother. She held onto Ser Erryk’s arm to keep herself from teetering over in shock. Tears welled in her eyes as she looked upon you. You noted the look of horror that crossed her face as she got a good look at your own the closer she crept. Her eyes shifted between you and Daemon, then back to you. Ser Erryk assisted her down the stairs and once she reached the bottom, she tore towards you in a flurry.

Rhaenyra pulled you to her, sobbing into your shoulder as she held you.

“My child!” She wailed, whispering your name over and over. You held her tightly, anchoring her to the floor in reassurance that you weren’t a figment of her imagination. Your father brought a hand to her back and rubbed soothing circles between her shoulders. She pulled back, looking between you and your father with a thousand questions fluttering within her eyes. “How?” Was the only one that she could physically ask. You looked to your father.

“I would also like to know.”

Your father had given his own explanation of what transpired. Jace had acquired the likes of your future Lord Husband, Cregan Stark, to locate you based on a feeling in Jace’s gut that you were not dead. That silly, little feeling that Jace held on to, that Cregan Stark believed in, is the reason why you were sat at the Painted Table, free of your shackles and free of Aemond.

And so, you told your parents everything. Every little detail from your less than pleasant visit to Storm’s End, to Luke’s murder, to your brutal capture and the subsequent death of Maestron. You told them of your time in the pitch black darkness of the abandoned dungeon of the Red Keep, and of Aemond’s shadow. You told them of your hunger strike and how Aemond and his shadow held you down and force fed you until you could not breathe.

Your father paced back and forth like a caged lion as you retold your tale, and you noted the look of surprise and pride when you mentioned how you tricked Aemond’s Shadow into opening your cell and how she met an end she was worthy of.

Your mother sat silently with tears of rage falling endlessly as you recounted every detail that had been unknown to them until this very moment..

“Did Alicent know you were there?” She questioned, her lips set in a firm line.

“Aemond made it clear, and he could’ve been lying, but his shadow was the only other person who knew I was down there.” You picked at one of your broken fingernails, hissing when it splintered just a little too far up.

“If there were any families sitting on the fence, they won’t be anymore.” Your father spoke as he stopped to lean on the table. “The true Princess of the Realm held captive in a dungeon by her crazed kinslayer uncle? Their backs will turn on the Greens in an instant.”

“I see you are ever so quick to jump at the opportunity.” Your mother spat. “Can we not have a mere fucking moment to appreciate that our daughter is still with us?” You sat silently, not surprised by your father’s behavior. You’ve seen the best and the worst of him throughout your life. You knew the man inside and out, and you knew he loved you, but he was also a Targaryen Prince and with that came a certain type of tenacity that did not sit well with most.

“Your Grace,” Ser Erryk interrupted as he came back down the stairs to the first landing. “Apologies for the interruption, but Blood has returned.”

“Bring him in.” Your father commanded with a nefarious grin. Ser Erryk looked to his Queen, who merely nodded, and he turned to fetch whoever this ‘Blood’ was. “Aemond was stupid enough to draw first blood.” Your father explained after seeing confusion cross your features. “Now his family is feeling what ours has.”

Blood was a tall man, massive, wide, and imposing as he calmly took each step into the council room. His cragged face was adorned with a large scar trailing from his left eyebrow all the way past his jawline. His dark eyes were wide and absolutely terrifying when they met yours. A crooked grin stretched his lips when he saw you shift back in your chair. He had the largest arms you had ever seen on a man and you were certain he could snap your neck in an instant if he so wanted to. There was an air of darkness that shrouded him and the sack he carried over his shoulder.

Ser Erryk kept a close distance to the man, carefully putting himself in the line of fire should Blood try to make a go at either you or the Queen. His hand never left the hilt of his sword as his eyes watched every move the man made.

Your father placed a pouch on the Painted Table. The clang it made let you know that there was quite a hefty sum inside. Blood, in turn, swung the sack from over his shoulders and emptied its contents onto the table. An involuntary gasp left you the second two small decomposing heads rolled towards you. Pushing your chair back in a panic, it nearly tipped over had Ser Erryk not been there to catch it. You held a hand to your mouth to stop from dry heaving.

Blood tossed the empty sack on the table and snatched the pouch of gold. He opened it, looked inside, and made a humming noise in satisfaction at what he saw.

“Should you need our assistance again, your Grace, you know where to find us.” Your father dismissed the assassin and Ser Erryk followed after him.

Your mother’s face was stoic and your father looked quite pleased. Your heart hurt for these children, but your mind flashed to Lucerys. He may not have been as young as the two before you, but he was still a child nonetheless. This wouldn’t bring your brother back, but you knew how much this would hurt Helaena, and by extension Aemond and their mother. The corner of your mouth twitched up at the thought.

Let this be a lesson to them, you thought ruefully, and let them see the headless bodies of those children every time they gazed upon Aemond.

“A son for a son. A daughter for a daughter.” Your father said simply. You could not break your eyes from the lifeless milky gazes of young Princess Jaehaera and her twin Prince Jaehaerys. This act would surely set the wheel of war into full motion.

“You’ve done this!” Alicent screamed the moment Aemond entered. Her face was splotched red and her voice was hoarse as she pointed an accusing finger at her son. He looked to the shrouded bodies on the floor and back to her, and in an instant she was on him.

The slap echoed in the room, and just for good measure, she slapped him again on his opposite cheek. The blows were painful and full of rage he knew was building inside of her.

“Look at them!” She grabbed Aemond by his wrist and dragged him to the shrouded bodies. She pulled the sheet in a flurry and Aemond felt as if he would throw up in an instant. “Jaehaerys and Jaehaera are dead! Assassinated before our very eyes, Aemond! The heir to the throne, my grandchildren, beheaded because of choices you made! Look at them!” Alicent grabbed Aemond’s chin and tilted his head down so he had to look at them. He felt his eye tear up at the sight of their small bodies. His niece and nephew had adored him, just as he adored them, and now they lay slain before him. His mother was right.

“A son for a son. A daughter for a daughter.” Alicent spat, covering her grandchildren once more before they were taken to the Silent Sisters for funeral preparations. Alicent stormed to her chambers and Aemond caught a glimpse of an absolutely devastated Helaena. Aemond felt his breath leave him.

You were alive and Sweet Jaehaera died for nothing.

Ser Erryk accompanied you to your quarters. At the command of your Queen Mother, the knight was now tasked with being your sworn shield. Gods only knew what Aemond would do now that you were no longer under this thumb, topped with the assassinations of his eldest niece and nephew. Ser Erryk took his place dutifully outside as you entered your chambers, offering his assistance should you need anything.

Myra, your ever trusted handmaiden, was already inside preparing for your arrival in the short time she was given. Her shining eyes met yours before she bowed her head.

“My Princess.” Myra greeted with a warm smile. “A hot bath is being drawn as we speak.” In her arms was your robe, slippers, and nightgown. It was late in the day and the sun was starting its slow descent towards the horizon, you noted as you looked through the balcony doors. Nodding to Myra, you followed her from your chambers with Ser Erryk trailing closely behind.

You had not truly known what the grave look your mother initially gave you meant until you got your first look at yourself in months when you returned to your chambers after your much needed soak. Myra had made sure the orange blossom oils you loved so much were replenished and waiting for you when you stepped into the tub.

The scent was soothing.

The flaking scabs around your wrists still ached with each flex of the skin. The puffy, pink scars left behind were a scathing reminder that mocked you day in and day out. The pink rings around your ankles fared much better -they didn’t quite ache as much, nor were the scars terrible. They would fade with time.

It was your face that haunted your mother. As Myra managed her way through your tangles tenderly, you could only look upon yourself with a heavy frown as you sat in front of the reflecting glass of your dressing table.

Your once beautiful hair’s ends were split and broken off, giving it a jagged appearance at the ends. Your skin, though it had gained some of its natural color back on your journey back to Dragonstone, was still ashen and malnourished. The circles under your eyes were dark, creating a sunken effect. Cracked were your lips, perpetually it seemed. A deep line split your bottom lip down the middle but it had been that way since the beginning of your captivity, so it no longer really bothered you.

“The maester will be bringing up salves, my Princess. We will get you back into working order in no time. Don’t you fret.” Myra spoke softly as she caught your lifeless gaze in the mirror. She gave you a reassuring smile and you could only nod. “If I may be so bold,” She looked into your eyes in the mirror. You nodded once more. “You have been missed terribly, my Princess. I am filled with relief that you are alive.” Myra’s earnestness made tears well in your eyes. Myra immediately panicked. “I apologize, my Princess! I did not mean to upset you!” Your hand tugged at her wrist and you pulled her into a hug.

Myra, though she was your handmaiden, and was a dear friend. She had been by your side since you reached maturity and she was loyal to a fault.

“My return to Dragonstone has been…overwhelming.” You explained as you pulled away gently. “It lightens my heart to hear your kind words, Myra.” She gave you a sad smile and nodded before continuing to work through your hair.

By the time Myra was done with you, the sun was just peeking over the water’s edge. Before she took her leave, you requested that she let Ser Erryk know that, with her exception, you did not want to be disturbed.

You lounged upright upon the cushioned chaise on your balcony. You wrapped yourself in a blanket taken from your bed, breathing in the fresh air with a newfound appreciation. Dragons flew freely in the distance as they entered and exited the many caves and vents of the Dragonmont.

Your heart ached terribly as you brought your head to your hands and hunched over, allowing the blanket to fully cocoon you. Guilt flowed through your blood with each pump of your heart and it tendriled through you like poison. The cushion beside you dipped and a hand placed itself on your blanketed back. The presence was familiar and comforting, and you immediately tilted your body to rest against them as they held you. Not a single word was spoken between you until darkness began to shroud the island.

“It seems that I have you to thank for my rescue.” Your voice cracked as you brought your head out of the blanket to finally look upon Jace. He had aged well past his six and ten years since you last saw him, due to stress and grief. A hint of dark stubble had started to grace his jaw.

“I merely kept hope. It was Lord Stark that devised the plan. It is he who is owed the credit.” Jace sat back in the chaise, pulling you back with him to keep you nestled safely in his side. His hand ran up and down your covered arm.

“I am…grateful all the same.” You choked out, trying to hold yourself together. You were tired of crying, tired of letting your own grief overtake everything you felt. You wanted to sleep and never open your eyes to the world again.

“Lord Stark accepted the betrothal before you went missing.” Jace spoke softly, looking out over the open ocean. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a beautiful glow over the island and its surrounding waters. “I like to think that it was my shining descriptions of you that sold him on the idea.”

“And it seems that was his stipulation upon my release.” Your tone held a sharpness to it. “I am to go from one man’s prison to the next.” Jace sighed as he pulled from you gently so that you may face one another. “It doesn't matter. I am not the same person I was before. He will soon learn that.” Jace said your name softly.

“You are my sister, and that is enough for him. The North, for all its perceived faults, is not the prison you imagine it to be. You have always trusted my word, so please trust me when I say that if there was ever a man worthy of your hand, it is Cregan Stark.” Jace’s plea was heartfelt, this much you knew. “He has sworn to me that he would treat you with honor and respect. I think you’ll warm up to Winterfell quite quickly, as I did. Cregan will take care of you and you will be safe. This I promise.”

“You seem close…you call him by his first name as if he is blood.” You eyed Jace suspiciously.

“After word reached Winterfell of what happened to you…what happened to Luke…” Jace trailed off. “Lord Stark was supportive while I mourned.” He sighed, running a hand down his face. “He was kind enough to host me in Winterfell for a few weeks longer than intended and during that time we came to an agreement, a blood oath of brotherhood. In my heart of hearts I knew you couldn’t be dead. Aemond would sooner turn his sword on himself than kill you, regardless of his mindset. I was certain then, and it turns out that I was right.”

“If only he had done that to begin with and spared us all a world of hurt.” You mumbled, leaning back into Jace. The ebb and flow of the sea filled the silence between you and Jace.

“Daemon saw to it that Maestron’s skull be reclaimed from the Hook.” Jace spoke softly. “He is resting in the crypts should you wish to see him. We…could not find Arrax.” You wouldn’t, you wanted to say. He’s scattered like ash. Just as Luke is. You kept the words to yourself and let them fester within.

Just as Luke is.

Just as you should be.

Fluorescent yellow flames encircled you, enveloping your being in heat, protection and serenity. The dragonfire did not scorch your skin as it wrapped around each limb, the rays braided through your hair, taking on the glow. Floating, your feet never touched the ground as you drifted higher and higher within the darkness. A deep rumble vibrated through your entire body. It shook the walls of the cavern, causing pebbles to fall around you.

An eye, vividly chartreuse, appeared from the darkness and floated closer to your face. The size was massive, nearly the size of your head -if not bigger. The slitted pupil contracted as it got closer to the flames around you. The reflection of the ethereal fire bounced off its glossy, rounded surface.

The eye blinked, the reptilian lids moving both vertically and horizontally, then it distanced itself from you and in its place a muzzle -as black as the darkness around you- came into view. The salivating jaws opened to display endless rows of sharp teeth. You could smell the dragon’s putrid breath, reeking of death and decay.

Your eyes shot open, a gasp escaped your mouth as the distant sound of a dragon’s roar -mighty in its volume all the way from the Dragonmont- caught your ears. Looking to your open balcony, you felt a pull in your soul you never thought you would feel again in your lifetime. Standing quickly in the candlelit room, the cold stone floor was shocking to the heat of your feet as you walked to the balcony and stood at its ledge.

This pull felt different than it had with Maestron, but it was familiar enough for you to recognize.

There was only one dragon alive who was black as coal and had eyes of the brightest green. You were reminded of the same feeling of awe you had as a child when the dragon came to mind. Though you had only set your eyes upon him a handful of times, it was always from a far enough distance that you never got to truly see the intricate details of his powerful body. Your father made it abundantly clear as a young girl that neither you, nor Maestron, were to ever come close to crossing paths with this particular beast.

“I have never seen a dragon such as him, papa. He is quite beautiful.” Your ten year old self stared in wonder from the shores just outside of Dragonstone’s Keep. There was a gap where one of the last of your front baby teeth had fallen out in recent weeks, and it was visible to your father as your jaw dropped in wonder at the dragon who flew out of the Mont and over the open ocean.

Two dragonkeepers were behind you and your father, guiding Maestron back to where the other wyrmlings were kept near the Keep. Your wyrmling was not yet big enough to ride, and neither were you ready to ride him, but your father insisted you spend as much time with the dragon as you could so your bond was inseparable by the time you could ride him.

“Does it have a name, Kepa?” He shook his head.

“Not as your Maestron does, sweetling. This dragon has only a nickname given to him by the smallfolk of the villages.” Your father explained. “He is a feral dragon, the eldest of the wild bunch if my memory serves me.”

“Older than Sheepstealer? Grey Ghost?” Your father chuckled. The far more docile wild dragons had alway piqued your interest -the elusive Grey Ghost especially as he liked to stay hidden within the mists of the Mont and surrounding waters. You had seen even less of his appearance than that of the dragon that currently held your attention.

“Yes, even older than Sheepstealer and Grey Ghost, Birdie, and just as they have -he’s been riderless his whole life.” Your eyes didn’t leave the dragon’s obsidian scales until he was so far away, he disappeared into the horizon.

“Did he not hatch in a crib?” Your confusion brought a grin to your father’s face.

“No, that is why they are called wild dragons, Birdie. No one really knows for sure where he came from. Some say he was hatched in the Dragonmont. Some even say he was hatched just before Aenar rode Balerion over the seas from Valyria and landed here, but that would make him quite old, wouldn’t it?” He looked down as you nodded. “Most believe he is from a different dragon lineage altogether, which is why he looks so different from the other dragons. I believe this to be true. It could also explain why he acts with hostility towards our Valyrian dragons. He is a mystery, nonetheless, and will remain as such.” Daemon shook his head, his shoulder length hair swayed in the breeze, eyes looking down to lock with yours. “He eats up anyone foolish enough to even step near his nest in the Mont, especially curious little dragonriders. Few have tried to bond with him, and all have failed. Their bones litter his nest, it is said.” You looked upon your father with wide eyes.

“He eats them?” You asked with a frown.

“He does.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not a dragonrider yet.” There was relief in your voice.

“But you will be, Birdie. Be warned, little one. It isn’t just curious little dragonriders he likes to feast on. He will consume anything he comes across. People, animals, other dragons -wyrmlings especially.” You looked over to Maestron’s retreating form in a panic. “That is why we keep them and the newly nested eggs separate from the larger dragons, lest they be feasted on. We wouldn’t want that, would we?” You shook your head at the thought of Maestron perishing before he could even fly.

Though, there was something that drew you to the beast in the sky. To be unbonded for so long, living freely to do as he pleased thrilled you. The dragon had quite the reputation.

Your father squatted down in front of you, his hands holding onto your tiny arms gently. “That is why you must always be cautious in the skies, my Birdie. Dragons such as he will not think twice about swallowing you and your wyrmling whole.” His hand came up to push a bit of hair from your face. “He is nicknamed the Cannibal for a reason.”

“The Cannibal.” You tested the name out, your lips pulling into a grin. “Had Maestron not hatched, I think I would be worthy of riding the Cannibal.” Your father let out a laugh, standing up straight with a groan that only adults seemed to let out when they rested on joints for too long. “Don’t you think, kepa?”

“You do not heed my warnings?” He asked with a raise of a brow.

“I do! That is why my Maestron will be the most bloodthirsty dragon in the Seven Kingdoms once he is grown, since I cannot ride the fearsome Cannibal! Maestron will be feared by all just as the Cannibal is feared! When I am older, I will be the fiercest dragonrider to exist! None shall cross me or they will perish!” You had your father’s tenacity, his thirst for victory, and for your own reputation. He saw himself fully when he stared down at you.

“Indeed you shall, for you are my daughter. The Realm will know your name for generations to come, and those who cross you and your mighty Maestron will quake in their boots, I am sure of it.” He smiled genuinely and gave you a pat on your head in affection.

“If my Maestron were to ever fall, I would surely ride the Cannibal.” You had every confidence in the world that your words were true. "I am brave enough."

“Will you now?” His tone was teasing as he lifted your squirming body into his strong arms. Your giggles and screams filled the air as he nibbled at your shoulder playfully. “Such girlish screams from the fiercest dragonrider of the realm.” He tickled you without mercy. “The Cannibal would eat you up as if you were one of those little cakes you sneak from the kitchens when you think no one is watching. One bite and you would be gobbled up.” Your giggles continued to ring through the air until he put you back down on your feet.

“He is that big?” You were out of breath as you righted yourself in the sand, still smiling goofily up at your father. He looked down at you in adoration.

You were his everything.

There was a deep-rooted love he had for you that he never felt so wholly for anyone else in his life. He knew the second you entered the world -screaming and covered in blood- that he would burn kingdoms to the ground, would bring men to their knees, would do anything it took to make sure you prospered in the world he would inevitably leave behind.

“He is.” Your father leaned down, holding his hand to your tiny, rounded cheek. “Massive, fierce, and just as lethal as Balerion was -though he lacks his size. You must promise me to stay clear of him.”

“I promise, Kepa.” You said sweetly, and you meant it because if this dragon scared your Kepa -a man undeniably invincible in your eyes- then the dragon was not to be trifled with.

A knock at your door the following morning stilled Myra’s movements as she finished securing the final braid she was working on.

“Enter.” You called out and the door opened. Baela was the first to enter with Rhaena closely behind. Two servants followed them in, each carrying a tray of assorted foods.

You stood from your bench, quick to close the distance as you pulled your sisters in close to you. The servants moved past you and out to the balcony where they began to set each little plate onto the stone table.

It was Rhaena who looked up at you first. She had tears in her eyes and you knew just how much of a toll all of this had taken on her. She was marrying Luke out of duty, but she grew up with him and cared for him in her own way all the same. His loss was taken hard by many.

You placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, then moved to Baela to do the same.

“I have missed your beautiful faces dearly, my sweet girls.” They both had shining eyes as they returned your smile.

“We’ve missed you!” Baela spoke as the girls separated themselves from you. “Father has been…”

“-Terrible,” Rhaena interjected, earning a warning look from Baela.

“He has not been the same. Neither has the Queen.” Baela explained. You nodded solemnly. Not wanting the girls to dwell on such sadness any longer, you quickly changed the subject.

“I see you’ve brought a little feast with you.” You smiled once more, and they seemed to perk up. “I’m famished. Shall we?” You gestured to the balcony and followed behind them.

As you sat across from your sisters, your eyes fell to the small pyramid of stacked marzipan cakes, and you were immediately transported back to the cold, dark, stale dungeons with your itchy blanket and your three-pawed rat. You felt sweat drip down the back of your neck and your eye twitched ever so slightly. Rhaena’s voice was nothing more than babbling to your ears -completely unintelligible- until Baela called your name, snapping you out of your trance.

Your eyes snapped up and both girls were staring at you.

“My apologies.” You cleared your throat. “I am…still not quite myself. Forgive me.” Your smile did not reach your eyes, but the excuse seemed to quell Rhaena enough that she started chatting once more while adding fruits, cheeses, toasts and jams to her plate. Baela, on the other hand, kept looking at you until you gave her one more unconvincing smile. “Please,” You gestured to the food and began to take little bits here and there to busy your shaking hands. You weren’t really hungry -your appetite not returning in full quite yet- but it was the sight of the cakes that turned your stomach to lead.

Still, they had made the effort to see you at the first chance they could, and they thought ahead so much as to have the kitchens prepare all of this just for you. You would eat to please them. It was the least you could do.

“You haven’t touched the marzipan cakes.” Rhaena pointed out midway through the meal. “I know they are your favorite, and I know it is still only the morning,” She shot a glare over to Baela, “but we thought you’d like a little comfort to welcome you home.” A small comfort, Aemond had described them himself. It took every bit of willpower to not upchuck what little you had just consumed. You schooled your face, hoping your absolute dread did not cross your features. Baela watched you carefully.

“They were Rhaena’s idea.” Baela acquiesced. “I told her it was too early for cakes, but she insisted.”

Rhaena looked so hopeful that her idea pleased you. You reached your hand over the table and took hers within your palm. You saw both of their eyes glance to your wrist, but neither said anything. You were grateful.

“Your kindness knows no bounds, Rhaena. What have I done to deserve you? The both of you?” Genuine love and gratitude reflected in your eyes as you looked at the girls. “I am merely saving the cakes for my breakfast dessert. Doesn’t that sound like a treat?“ Rhaena giggled as you looked over at her with a playfully conspiratorial grin. Truthfully, you’d sooner eat a rock than touch those cakes. You didn’t know if you could keep a single bite down even if you wanted to, but that bridge would be crossed when the time came. Until then, you would not dwell on it.

“You are going easy on me, Ser Erryk. Why? Do you think I am incapable of learning this?” Your tone held a bite to it, frustration lacing your every word.

“It is not that I think you are incapable, my Princess.” The knight sighed, letting his blunted training sword drop to his side.

“Then what is it?” You demanded. “Why do you balk at the notion of me wielding a blade?”

“It’s just…you have me, my Princess.” He replied. “This is simply not necessary.” You rolled your eyes.

“You cannot be everywhere, Ser Erryk.” You argued.

“But I will be everywhere you are, my Princess. I am to join you in the North, as my Queen has commanded. Where you go, I will follow. I’ve sworn it to you and to the Queen that I shall be your protector until my very last breath. I do not take my oath lightly.” Erryk’s brows were pinched together. “Perhaps I am not- '' You cut off your knight sternly. You panted heavily as sweat dripped from the sides of your face.

“-Perhaps if you will not do it, Ser Erryk, I shall find someone who will. Though their skill will not be a match to yours, I am sure.” You sighed as you lessened the space between yourself and the knight. “You do not know what it is like to feel powerless, unable to fend for yourself.” Your head dropped in shame. “Through the entire ordeal with Aemond, from Storm’s End to the dungeons of the Red Keep, I was weak -pitifully weak- and I’ve since vowed to myself that I will never feel defenseless again.” You looked up at him once more. “A war is upon us and even if I were to never meet a battlefield, it would make no difference. I will be prepared. I will learn to wield this blade,” You shook the smallsword in your hand, “-So that I may never endure what I have at the hands of any man, ever again in my life. So again I ask: Will you take this seriously, Ser? Or need I look elsewhere?” Erryk looked at you sternly for a moment, analyzing you before he bowed his head with a heavy sigh.

“I will, my Princess. My apologies.”

Dragon fire blazed across the gray skies and storm clouds swirled overhead. The sounds of battle on the ground below could be heard from so far up in the sky. You could see, though it wasn’t from your own eyes. The world around you was made of color that your eyes would never be able to see. It was a forbidden beauty, not seen by the human eye. Craning your head to the left, you saw onyx wings. The ombré of black to a deep purple within the leathery membranes cast a spark in your mind.

The Cannibal.

There was a grip on your mind -or his, you couldn’t differentiate. It was like that of a fist and it clenched firm. The feeling was not painful, but you were all too aware of its unpleasant presence.

The beast soared lower to the battlefield below, neon flame burst from the Cannibal’s mouth, turning all in his wake to ash and char. The air around you sizzled as he accelerated up into the sky.

To feel as a dragon feels is overwhelming in every sense of the word. The raw power, the speed, the might -all of it was too much for a mere human to bear.

A young dragon, only just large enough to carry a rider, caught your eye. The beast’s scales were a beautiful cobalt, while the crest and tail were an orange rust. A burst of adrenaline flowed through the Cannibal’s body -your body- as he surged towards the much smaller dragon with a terror-inducing roar.

A young rider -looking similar in age to Jace- was on its back, and you saw despair shroud over the young man as the Cannibal approached. His Targaryen features were akin to that of the Usurper Aegon’s, and you knew then that this could only be young Daeron. You hoped the fear on Aegon’s own face would look just the same as his youngest brother’s did when he meets his own end.

When the young man saw the unstoppable mass that was coming for him, he nor his dragon stood a chance -and just as Vhagar had ripped Luke and Arrax from the sky, the Cannibal did the very same. There was no remorse to be had in the bloody wake of war.

Bloodlust was the only descriptor you could use for the feeling that swept upon the dragon as he swallowed what chunks of flesh remained in mouth. You tasted it as if your own jaws had taken young Daeron’s life, though it did not taste of salt and iron. It was satisfying, delectable. It fueled the dragon’s lust for chaos and ruin, and that is the path he continued on.

Another mighty roar was let loose from the Cannibal’s maw as he circled the battle overhead, and a deeper roar echoed in the distance in response.

The Cannibal turned in the open sky quickly to charge in the direction of the dragon who dared call back to him in challenge.

Your own eyes opened to the darkness that surrounded you before the dragon came into view. You knew who it was, deep in your bones. The monstrous bellows of Vhagar, for as long as she lived, would haunt you.

Sweat coated your skin, sticking you to your sheets uncomfortably. At some point in the night, you had shucked off your nightgown and now the chill bit at your exposed skin. The cool air hit your bare flesh as it blew in from the open balcony door. Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath. Looking down at your hands, they trembled fiercely.

A dragon dream.

This could not be a coincidence, not after the dream you had the previous night. Both were so vibrant, so real.

You stood from your bed, grabbing the robe that hung on the post next to it. Shrugging it on, you didn’t bother to tie it as you walked to your balcony to look towards the Dragonmont.

A black mass, visible from where you stood, flew over the village below.

“You have the advantage of a smaller blade at this close proximity to your opponent.” Ser Erryk grunted as he all but manhandled you towards the rocky alcove behind you on the beach. He had taken your plea to heart, and as happy as you were that he did, it was an embarrassingly humbling experience.

Your feet tripped through the sand as you tried to simply not lose any ground, but Ser Erryk was unrelenting.

“The size of your opponent does not matter so long as you know where to place your feet.” With that, you tripped on a rock behind your heel and he used that as an opportunity to push your back against the alcove. His sword’s length lay across your chest to show you what a stupid split second decision will end in. “And now you are dead.” He breathed, inches from your face.

You panted, becoming increasingly aware of how close Erryk was to you. He removed his sword and looked down at you with a softness in his eyes.

“Well…” You swallowed. “...at least I’ll have you.” You said, teasingly. He raised a brow at you and released you from his hold, but you caught the tilt of his lips all the same when he turned towards the shore.

“Again.” Ser Erryk urged, raising his sword once more.

The biting wind whipped through your hair as the Cannibal flew at break-neck speeds. Viewing through your own eyes this time around, you looked down to your gauntleted hands that tightly held onto the saddlehorn. You could feel as the influence of the dragon flowed through your veins and you truly felt invincible.

Movement below caught your eyes. Vhagar, in all her might, bellowed out a cannon of flame one last time as she plummeted to the waters below with a thundering crash. A tidal wave echoed to the shores, drowning any poor soul who stood too near the water’s edge. You could not believe your eyes. Circling the Cannibal around above, you watched as Vhagar sank to the depths below, steam rising from the waters above her.

The Cannibal roared in a victorious threat of dominance to any remaining dragons in the sky, friend or foe, now that his largest adversary had perished.

Arrows flew past you, bouncing off of the Cannibals impenetrable scales and narrowly missing your face by mere inches. The dragon shifted direction to fly higher in the sky to evade any rogue arrows that could potentially hit their targets.

Gaping wounds were slashed across the Cannibal’s neck and flank -marks made by teeth and claws- but they did not seem to bother him. If anything, they pushed him further to decimate everything and everyone in his path with pure fury.

You awoke with clarity. It was as if your eyes had been truly opened for the first time and a sense of purpose settled deep in your chest.

Dressing yourself with haste, you snuck through the secret passages of the Keep. Slinking in the shadows, you bypassed where you knew guards and knights alike would be stationed until you made it outside and to the stables -your face hidden by the hood of your cloak.

The ride to the village took no longer than half an hour by horseback. The moon was bright enough to see the road ahead of you, and Dragonstone was one of the safest places within the realm to wander freely. Even still, your smallsword was tied snuggly to your hip as a precaution.

Just outside of the village, down the road a ways, was a small homestead surrounded by livestock pens. Goats, cows, horses, pigs, and chickens could be heard now that you’ve seemed to have disturbed the entire yard.

A herd dog -a white, fluffy beast of a thing with a dripping muzzle- barked in alert at your arrival, keeping an eye on you to make sure you did not cause harm to his charges. You kept your distance, giving the dog a wide berth, and stopped your horse just before the gate to the walkway of the home. It was by no means big, maybe a bedroom or two, a living space, and possibly a small area to cook. It was modest, but comfortable.

Walking up to the door, you pounded three hard knocks onto it that were sure to wake the occupants inside. It took a few moments, but the door opened a crack.

“What do you want?” A man all but growled through the crack in the door.

“Your goats. I would like to purchase two of them.” You replied sternly.

“Come back at a reasonable hour, girl. I will be selling no goats of mine at this time of night.” The man sneered as he attempted to close the door in your face, but the toe of your boot held it open. You dangled a coin purse in front of the door, jangling the gold pieces inside. The pressure against your foot eased and a haggard, dirty old face filled the small space.

“You don’t know my price.” He looked at you suspiciously.

“Your price is my price. I assure you, it is more than you’d ask and more than they’re worth.” You spoke plainly. This seemed to win the man over and he opened the door fully.

“What are you doing buying goats at the hour of the owl anyway?” The man questioned as he stepped out of the house, closing the door behind him.

“My business is my own. I’m sure you understand.” You replied, looking at the animals that walked up to their fences curiously.

“Aye.” He gave you a once over, eyeing you nervously. Your face was shrouded by the hood of your cloak, but a flash of silver hair did catch his eye. The man nodded and led you to the goat pen.

“I’ll take the biggest two you have. Tie them together so they do not wander. My horse is on the road.” With that, you tossed him the pouch and turned to return to your mount.

You sat patiently upon the horse’s back. It only took the man a few minutes to wrangle the bleating goats. Their incessant chatter only got louder the closer they got to you.

“For you, miss.” The man handed her the end of the rope. You took it within your gloved hand, tying it to the saddlehorn.

“I shall return at the same time tomorrow, and every night forward for the foreseeable future. Each night I will need an animal larger than the last. I will pay you fairly, of course.” The man blinked up at you, but nodded nonetheless.

“Of course.” He mirrored.

“I do apologize for waking you at such an hour.” You kicked the horse gently to begin trotting. “I hope sleep finds you well, sir. Good night.” With that you continued down the road towards the Dragonmont.

It was another hour or so before you made it to the base of the Mont. The goats had run alongside you obediently. If anything, they seemed to love the exercise.

Fleeting happinesses, you supposed.

You pulled the horse to a stop as the path became too difficult to walk it up safely and tied the horse to a tree that was hidden among the brush so none of the dragons would find an easy meal. The walk back to the Keep on foot was not ideal.

The path to the western side of the Dragonmont was frequently taken. The gravel was clear of debris and overgrown weeds unlike the eastern path before you. It was daunting, you would not lie, and the darkness did not boost your confidence.

Steam and smoke billowed into the air high above you. The air smelled of sulfur and a scent that was distinctly dragon. You could hear the chittering of the beasts both wild and bonded as their calls echoed from within the volcano’s passages and vents.

It hurt your heart to know Maestron’s own distinct call was not among them. It would take time to undo all of the natural reflexes in your mind regarding him that were no longer natural. You had a lifetime with him, so to live with his absence was what you’d imagine it was like to lose a spouse. It was a piece of you, gone.

You held tightly onto the rope and pushed ahead, determined to continue on. It was a long, arduous hike to the back of the eastern side of the Mont. Crags had chipped and fallen onto the path over time, making it difficult terrain for you to cross over at some points, much less with the two goats who did their best to make sure this trek was as difficult as possible for you.

You wretched little beasts, you thought as you tugged at their rope. You have no idea what awaits you.

By the time you made it relatively close to your endpoint, you were sweating profusely. Your clothes stuck to you uncomfortably and your skin felt clammy in the warm air. The moon was still high in the sky, so you felt like you made pretty good time thus far.

The closer you got to the cave’s entrance, the more bones littered the ground at your feet. It was a graveyard menagerie, a collection of both animal and human skeletal remains alike.

Still, you only felt the magic within you grow stronger, pulling you to the darkness ahead. Finding an alcove of stone at the mouth of the cave for protection, you hid and listened. One of the wretched goats let out a bleat and you wanted to wring its neck with your bare hands.

The sniffing of a dragon’s nostrils could be heard. It was a long-winded sweeping sound that was loud and clear. The beast inside was scenting what dared to lurk outside of his nest. Still, he did not approach and instead waited for you to come to him. He was an ambush predator, your father had explained once, and he loved the thrill of the hunt -especially if the element of surprise was involved.

“I hold no fear in my heart for you.” You spoke out loud for the dragon to hear, still pushed into the crevice. A deep rumbling vibrated through the pitch black cave, just as it had in your dream. “You called to me, or I called to you. Either way, the call was answered.”

A deep bellow came from within the cave, echoing into the night.

“I know that you hold no love for anyone or anything, but I’ve brought you a gift. Accept it and I shall be on my way to return your peace as it was. Tomorrow, I shall be back to do the same, and one day I wish to look upon you as we did within the dream but I will remain patient.”

You allow the curious goats to wander into the cave, still tied together by their necks with two connecting loops of rope. The clicking of their tiny hooves echoed as they stepped further and further into the cave fearlessly.

Their incessant bleating was cut short by a burst of flame that shot from the entrance, charring everything in its path. The flames were vibrantly yellow, just as they were in your dream, and they took up the enormity of the cave’s mouth from top to bottom.

The heat licked at your skin even from where you hid. The tiny hairs on your forearms swayed from the force of the gusts as you brought them up to shield your eyes from the brightness. Your chest buzzed as if a colony of angry bees had nested within it, smashing against your ribs to be let free.

The visceral sounds of flesh ripping, bones crunching, and entrails sloshing met your ears.

Good, he had accepted your offering.

“You are sluggish.” Ser Erryk narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “More so than usual.” He threw in the jab teasingly, but he let you know that he took note of your lack of performance during this training session.

Your limbs were heavy and sore from your previous lessons, as well as from the trek up and down the side of the Dragonmont, and you swore you would’ve fallen over had the breeze been just slightly more of a gust than it was.

“You forget that I do not have a lifetime of strenuous activity, Ser.” You grumbled crankily as you dropped to the sand to sit for a moment. You did not get back to your chambers until the hour of the nightingale began to approach. It seemed as if you had merely blinked your eyes before Myra entered your chambers so you could prepare for your training session. “I was raised as a soft lady, much to my detriment, and soft ladies do not strain themselves.” Ser Erryk did not look impressed at your whining, but allowed you to take a break nonetheless. “I am adjusting,” You shielded your eyes from the sun with the palm of your hand to look up at him. “And gaining a newfound appreciation for what you do. You make it look effortless.” Erryk dropped to the sand next to you.

“As you’ve said, my Princess, I have a lifetime of honing my skill with a sword. It will come to you in time, but you must be patient and persistent.” Squinting as you stared just a second too long at him, you cracked a smile.

“Perhaps, if you are feeling generous, you could take me on as your squire.” Ser Erryk barked a laugh as he stood back up, dusting the sand off of his trousers before extending a hand to pull you up.

Just as you promised the farmer, you had returned nightly to collect pigs, sheep, more goats, a mule, and now -on the tenth night- a cow. This time around, you had a companion with you.

Ser Erryk had been tipped off on your nightly excursions outside of the castle walls after interrogating the poor stable boy you had paid off to have your horse saddled and ready for you, and to say it disturbed the knight greatly would be an understatement. It wasn’t until this night that he had finally caught you.

“My Princess, I must insist that you stay within the walls of the Keep.” Erryk’s unmistakable voice stopped you as you pulled the horse from its stall. Turning, you saw that he was waiting for you in the deep shadows of the stables. His eyes held exasperation as he stepped into the moonlight. “For your safety.”

“Insist all you’d like, Ser Erryk.” You inspected the strap of the saddle and loaded yourself onto the horse. Erryk stepped in front of you, making your horse stamp his hoof. “You may join me if it will ease your worries, but I will not be staying put. Stay or follow -it matters not to me, Ser. Either way, I will return before the sun rises.” You finished with a raise of your brow in challenge. He could very well alert the rest of the guards to your presence, thus awakening the whole castle. The last thing you needed was your father breathing down your neck regarding this matter. You did not keep many things from him, but this was something you could not utter a single word to him about until the matter was set in stone.

Erryk insisted on joining you if he could not talk you out of staying put, as was his knightly duty, and so he rode a horse beside you as you came upon the farmer’s homestead.

Just as he had the eight nights after your initial visit, the farmer was waiting at the gates of his yard, the protective dog sitting by his feet. His tail wagged when he saw you, now familiar with your nightly visits.

Tied to the fence was a large cow, chewing the grass that grew around the wooden post. Reaching into your cloak, you tossed the purse to the farmer, just as you had every night past. He untied the cow from the fence and tied the rope to your saddle, and off you went without a single word exchanged.

Ser Erryk watched the exchange curiously, but not as curiously as the man had watched the knight who was very obviously a member of the Queen’s Guard. Still, not a word was spoken as the pair of you made off with your livestock. You were a good ways down the road, nearly halfway to the base of the Mont, when Ser Erryk spoke.

“You spend your nights buying livestock?” His question held a cheeky tone to it, and you would give it right back to him.

“I do.” You grinned over at him.

“You risk your life out here alone for cows?”

“Risk my life? Hardly, Ser Erryk.” You scoffed. “And it isn’t just for cows. It was also sheep…and goats…and pigs,” You listed. “Oh! And a mule last night.”

“What do you do with these animals? I did not take you for a farmer.”

“That would be a very silly thing, wouldn’t it?” You humored him.

“It really would be, Princess.” The conversation died after that and it didn’t take much longer to get to the base of the Dragonmont. Both of you dismounted and hid your horses amongst the trees. Untying the cow, you led her to the eastern path you had traveled many times up to this point. Ser Erryk followed behind you hesitantly.

“It is not my place to question you, my Princess,” He cleared his throat. “but I must know what we are doing here.” Erryk’s eyes were on a constant swivel as he watched out diligently for danger.

“We are going up to the Dragonmont, Ser Erryk.” You stated simply as you continued on. It would take about an hour, as you had timed before, to hike up to the cave. With the heifer it may take longer depending on how cooperative she was going to be.

“I’ve gathered as much, my Princess.” He sighed. “The cow is what I have questions about.” Erryk had a sinking feeling in his gut, but he needed to hear you confirm his suspicions before he acted.

“It is a gift.” You replied cryptically, a grin playing at your lips. Your eyes surveyed the tumultuous ground for anything that would cause you to lose your footing.

“For whom?” Ser Erryk stumbled, quickly righting himself.

“For what, is the question you should be asking.” You answered cheekily. “This heifer is a gift for the Cannibal, if you must know.” Ser Erryk stopped dead in his tracks, his brows furrowed.

“You jest.” He spoke, all royal pretenses dropped as he looked at you. His lips were set in a deep frown.

“I’ve never jested in my life, Ser.” You teased, and did not falter in your steps up the inclined overgrown pathway. You did, however, shoot a smirk over your shoulder at the knight. Erryk jogged to catch up with you and stopped in front of you, halting your advances with his hand extended. The cow mooed without a care in the world, dropping its head to chew on a patch of wildflowers on the side of the trail. They were the last living patch of greenery this far up.

“Princess, I cannot allow you to go up there.” Erryk looked distraught, his eyes wide and full of terror. “It would be suicide.”

“Allow me? Let me make myself abundantly clear -you do not allow me to do anything, Ser Erryk.” You looked up at the knight in challenge. Taking a good look at him in the moonlight, his handsome, angular face was accentuated. He and his brother, though nearly identical, had characteristics that differentiated them. You had always naturally preferred Erryk over Arryk during any of your interactions, and seeing as how Erryk was now sworn to your family -to you- you had instinctually made the right choice.

Erryk wasn’t the type of handsome that knights like Ser Criston were -prettily handsome- but he was ruggedly handsome all the same. His eyes were bright and his face was expressive, though it was more than just his face that drew you in. He was tall, broad, strong, passionate, loyal to a fault, and absolutely lethal with a sword. Erryk Cargyll was everything a knight should be and you were more than pleased to have him at your side.

“I apologize, my Princess. I meant no offense. It is only your safety that I must keep as my highest priority.” His head was bowed, though he looked up at you when you responded.

“Duly noted, Ser Erryk.” You took a step closer to the knight. “I’m going to tell you something that only your ears will be privy to, as I know you can be trusted wholly. No one, not even my father, knows what I’ve been doing up here on the Dragonmont.”

“As apprehensive as I am about this, it is an honor to be held in such high regard, my Princess. My ears are yours.” And he meant it -you know he did. Your voice was soft and airy as you spoke. He was the only soul you would dare tell this to, as he would swear his silence if you asked it of him. Your father, for as much as he loved you, would only look at you the way he looked at his brother when he spoke of Aegon’s Dream. That look of disappointment was not something you took lightly, nor could you bear the weight of it and everything that would follow.

The cow’s rope fell from your hands, though the cow stood as if you were still holding it. You pulled the hood of your cloak off, baring your face to the knight. Your trembling hands clasped his armored ones and held tightly, startling him with your touch.

“Ten and three nights past, I had my first dream, Erryk. A dream I’ve never experienced before, but I had two more in just as many nights following. They were not the dreams of fantasy, Erryk. All three of them were as Aegon the Conqueror’s dream, of Daenys’ premonitions. My father does not believe them, naturally. He is practical, if he is anything, which is why I have not spoken to him about this, but that is beside the point.” You took another step closer, Erryk’s hands nearly touching your stomach, and you looked up at the tall knight with what some might describe as lucid madness. Your lilac eyes glowed in the moonlight, Erryk noted.

“My Uncle Viserys used to speak of these dreams. He was adamant that they were the truth. I had heard of them as a child and thought they were merely tales myself. How could something that happened in the land of sleep be real? Now I know. It was real to Aegon. It was real to Daenys. She prophesied that Valyria would fall, and the line of Targaryen would be demolished. Had Aenar not listened to her, I would not be standing before you, Erryk. The dragons you see today would no longer exist.” Your lashes fluttered as you spoke feverishly and Erryk could only listen on with apprehension continuing to grow within him. “Aegon himself truly believed the fall of man would come to be. He saw it, he felt it.”

“The fall of man has not happened, Princess.”

“Yet!” You hissed. “It hasn’t happened yet!” You felt Erryk’s fingers tighten around yours to hold you steady. “What I saw and what I felt was real, Erryk. I saw it, I smelled it, I tasted it, I touched it. All of it was real.” Your words sounded more like pleas to the knight to merely believe you.

“In the first dream, I saw the Cannibal. I was as close to him as I am to you. His fire danced around me as he looked at me and I looked at him, and we understood one another.” Your breathing was erratic, just as your words were. “There was a tendril that pulled us together, connected us in a way that only exists between a rider and a dragon. In the second dream I saw through the Cannibal’s eyes, Erryk. I felt what he felt, I tasted what he tasted. I breathed fire and scorched the earth. Through his eyes, I felt what it was to fly over mountains and oceans -over battlefields and castles. And in the final dream, I saw Vhagar.” Erryk’s brows furrowed as you smiled deliriously. “I saw her! Riding upon the Cannibal’s back I saw her fall to her doom, Erryk.” Manic tears burst forth from your eyes.

“I was there! I do not know where it was, but she perished.” Your chest heaved. “These dreams cannot be mere coincidence.” Erryk took in your words, his mind spinning frantically as he tried to process his response. You spoke so earnestly, but it was hard for him to believe what you were saying as reality. It may have been your truth, but your current mental state may also be aligned with fiction.

“May I speak freely, my Princess?” He spoke gently, his thumbs rubbing over the tops of your hands to calm you down.

“Of course.” You breathed, your eyes shining with hope that he’d understand what you were saying.

“...Perhaps…perhaps this is your way of dealing with your grief. So much has happened and you have not had the proper time to process it.” Your stomach dropped and it felt as if you were freefalling from a cliff. Perhaps this is what it would’ve felt like had Aemond let you run off the edge of Massey’s Hook.

Erryk’s brows were downturned and his eyes shined with pity when you visibly deflated. You pulled your hands from his and crossed your arms over your chest to bring your defenses up.

“I’ve dealt with my grief! I’m still dealing with my grief!” You spat. “They were dragon dreams, Erryk!” You nearly shouted. “I know they were! I have been climbing this trail up and down the Mont, for hours of each way every single night since I had the third dream. I’ve visited the Cannibal every night -this night being the tenth, and I live to tell the tale, Erryk! When has he let anyone step foot near his nest and live? When?” You pushed angrily.

“I…Ido not know what to say, my Princess.” In truth, Ser Erryk had a lot he’d like to say, but he’d also like to keep his head attached to his shoulders. He would also like to not become the next offering to the Cannibal if what you spoke of was genuine truth. He could not make heads nor tails of the situation. You took a step back from Erryk and sighed, picking up the fallen rope within your hands.

“You insisted on accompanying me, Ser Erryk, but I will not fault you for staying behind while I continue forward. The Cannibal is unpredictable and I cannot promise your safety should you follow.” You said seriously, sniffling as you ran a shaking hand over your face. Erryk looked between you, the cow, and the steaming volcanic vents of the Dragonmont behind you.

“This dragon calls to me, Erryk.” You whispered. “You may not believe me, nor do you understand it, but I feel it in the furthest depths of my being. It is not the same as my bond with Maestron was, but the magic is there and it will only grow stronger with time should he accept me. The fact that the Cannibal has not ended my existence is encouragement enough. Now,” You gave the cow a pat to its flank as you fixed Erryk with your stare. “You can help me get this beast to the eastern side of the Mont, or you can return to the Keep and carry on with your other duties -whatever they should be at the hour of the wolf.”

“My only duties are with you, Princess.” Ser Erryk said without hesitation. “Day or night, I shall not leave your side.” His eyes held a softness as they looked down at you, but still, he kept his mouth shut.

“Very well.” You nodded and handed the rope to the knight. Erryk dutifully followed behind you with the cow in tow.

The familiar boneyard came into view and you stopped Erryk from going forward.

“It is not much further from here. I must stress to you that whatever you see -whatever you hear- you must remain calm. He will know you are with me. He will catch your scent if he hasn’t already. Stay out of sight and say a quick prayer to the Seven that you make it to see the sunrise, Ser Erryk. Your bravery tonight will not be forgotten.” You smiled softly at him, your palm coming up to rest on his cheek.

Erryk knew what was at stake. He knew the possibility of neither of you coming out of this alive was high. Still, he followed you to the end as he had sworn he would. An armored finger rested under your chin and tilted your face up just the slightest bit.

“I shall not leave you, Princess.” He spoke gently. It was a promise that would be kept. He may not have believed you, but still, he’d follow you to your end. You nodded, tears lining your eyes. They sparkled like diamonds in the moonlight, entrancing the knight.

Erryk could not deny the pull that drew him to you, but even in what he projected was his last hour in this life, he would not allow himself to act rashly for you were his Princess and he had a duty to uphold. If a man could not keep his oath, even with the Stranger looming ever closer, then what was he worth?

Reputation meant everything, in life and in death.

“Come.” You whispered, taking the rope from Erryk and leading the cow behind you. A comfortable silence blanketed the pair of you as you walked. Erryk decided, in that moment, that he would allow himself one final comfort in this life. It was bold, but uncompromising.

He pulled the glove and gauntlet off of his left hand, freeing his fingers from the leather and metal. He grasped your hand tenderly within his own calloused palm, affectionately tangling your more delicate fingers with his.

You turned to look at Erryk and his profile looked as if it was carved from stone in the glow of the moonlight. The breeze lifted his long hair that rested on his back, swirling it around his shoulders. You squeezed his much larger hand and smiled with a shy dip of your head. Returning the smile, Erryk decided that this would be enough. There were worse ways to leave this life.

Silently you carried on, hand in hand with your knight as you approached the final bend. Erryk could feel the stone tremble beneath his feet and his heart nearly stopped dead in his chest. You gave his hand one last squeeze before releasing it. You ushered him into the alcove that you hid in the first time you came to approach the Cannibal.

“You will stay here and do not come out unless you are certain I am dead.” Erryk’s jaw dropped in shock. “Do not look at me like that. Please, promise me you will stay put.” Erryk’s jaw clenched, anger and frustration building up inside of him. How could you ask him to do nothing while you faced the most ferocious beast on this island?

Once more you brought your hand to his bearded cheek. “I believe what I saw, Erryk. I know you don’t, but I truly do. I need you to trust me as I trust you -wholly and without question.” Erryk’s brows furrowed and he held your stare for a few moments before he relented against his better judgment.

“Okay.” He whispered. “Okay.” You nodded, caressing his jaw for a moment more before leaving him in the alcove. He could see you perfectly through a crack in the stone as you approached the mouth of the cave with the cow in tow. It was the same crack in the slab of stone that you watched through the first night you visited the Cannibal.

Surely this is what it felt like to wait for the swing of the executioner’s sword, Erryk thought to himself. To know you are going to die a gruesome death, but first you had to wait for your turn at the chopping block.

“Another offering, as I’ve promised.” You called into the darkness, patting the rump of the cow to encourage her to walk forward. The clip-clop of her hooves echoed slowly as she disappeared from view. The deep rumble of the Cannibal’s purr reverberated through Erryk’s own chest as he watched on with baited breath. You moved out of the mouth of the cave and to the side, only separated from Erryk by the slab of stone he peeked through.

A blinding flash of yellow flame shot through the mouth of the cave. Erryk had to cover his eyes, but you had welcomed the brightness from where you stood with an unhinged smile gracing your face. The flames lasted for five long seconds. You counted it time and time again with each offering you brought, learning more of the dragon with each passing night. That was his preferred roasting time, you figured.

Darkness encased the cave once more. The tell-tale sounds of bones crunching and flesh tearing met your ears.

There was a theory you had worked out in your brain that you purposefully failed to share with Erryk. Had you clued him in on what you were here to truly do, he wouldn’t think twice about letting the cow loose and throwing you over his shoulder to return back to the Keep kicking and screaming.

He wouldn’t understand -not really. He couldn’t. The blood of the dragon did not run through his veins as it did yours.

You didn’t realize it until you were in the safety of the Keep at Dragonstone, but Aemond had fractured something within you. It dwelled in the deepest, darkest recesses of your mind and soul, and what you were about to do would either soder it back together or wipe it from existence entirely. Whatever the outcome, you would be set free.

Erryk hissed your name directly as you began to disrobe where you stood. Your cloak fell to the ground in a heap. Next you kicked your boots to the left of it.

“What in the Seven are you doing?” Came Erryk’s panicked whisper. Your shirt, breeches, and smallclothes were tossed onto your cloak, and you moved your boots to hold the pile down. “Princess, please!” His gaze turned from you instantly as you stood bare as the day you were born before him. “This is madness.”

“No, Erryk. This is fate.” Your voice was calm as you turned away from him. The air, though warm this close to the volcano, still caused your nipples to peak and goosebumps to form on your naked skin. You freed your hair from the bands that held your braids together, tossing the strips of leather into your boot.

“In the...off chance…that I do not return…tell my father what has transpired in full truth, and that I am sorry I did not keep my promise.” Erryk grabbed your wrist through the crevice, intent on not letting you go. He adamantly kept his eyes on yours, not daring to let them wander further down. You were not his to gaze freely upon, he chastised himself. And you never would be. He breathed your name once more, causing you to turn back to the knight. There was a deep sadness that swirled in his eyes as he gazed upon your moonlit face.

“Do not do this. I am begging you. If I have to carry you down the Dragonmont myself and tie you to my horse, I’ll do it.” You smiled at Erryk. “Your family has already lost you once. The Realm needs you, Princess. Please think!” Erryk’s cheeks were flushed and his eyes glistened. Stress poured from every feature and there was a slight tremor in the grip he had on you. You rested a hand upon his, gently prying his fingers away.

“This is my destiny, Erryk. This dragon will rid the Realm of all the vile creatures that dwell within it.” Your mind flashed to Aemond and Vhagar, to Aegon and Sunfyre, Daeron and Tessarion, to Alicent and her wretched father.

All would fall to the might of the Cannibal.

You felt it in your bones as you pulled your wrist free from Erryk’s grasp and stepped to the opening of the cave before he could stop you. The deep rumble of the Cannibal’s growl echoed in the cave, and his giant steps shook the Mont from within. Erryk was nearly hyperventilating as he watched. He did not dare blink an eye.

“You feel this.” You spoke freely into the void with a steady voice. It did not shake and there was no fear present. “We are connected. You would not spare me if I didn’t speak the truth.” The Cannibal’s growls only grew deeper, bordering a purr from the massive creature. “Prove to me that this is real, that we are one.” You held your arms wide as you closed your eyes and tilted your head back, face tilted to the sky above. “I welcome you.”

Erryk saw the flames before he could think. Hot, yellow fire shot from the cave as it had with the cow, and now you were fully engulfed. Erryk felt tears fall down the planes of his cheeks, his lips trembling terribly as he watched on as you were consumed by the dragonfire.

Gone. You were gone.

Failure emanated through his core, turning his stomach something fierce and he could do nothing but watch you perish. Erryk’s burning eyes clenched shut.

He failed you. He failed his Queen. He failed the Realm.

The continuous dragonfire made his eyes crack open. The flames lasted much longer than they had before and his jaw dropped in wonder.

The heat of the flames was nearly unbearable, but they did not burn your flesh. They felt like the warmest rays of the sun on the hottest summer day as the fire danced and licked your skin. The golden flames sparked and sizzled around you as you held your breath. Your feet left the stone floor for a mere blip of a moment in time and you felt it. Mere inches off the ground, the flames engulfed you fully.

It was a lifetime within the fire, just as it had been within your dream, and in an instant you were shifted back to darkness. Your feet hit the ground with a slap, your knees wobbled at the force. Looking up, the sharp chartreuse eye of the Cannibal beckoned you forward and your legs moved on their own accord.

Erryk could not breathe as he watched you enter the Cannibal’s nest. You, who had roasted alive within the dragon’s flames mere seconds ago, before his very eyes, was now walking on your own two feet as if he didn’t see what he definitely just saw. He blinked hard, rubbing his eyes.

There wasn’t a single blemish on your skin, not a single burn marred your flesh. You should’ve been dead instantly, reduced to a pile of ash left to blow in the wind.

At that moment, Erryk did not know what to do -what to think. Was he dead? It was the only semi-rational thought he could come up with. He leaned to the ledge of the cliff and vomited the little contents of his stomach he had left.

The growl of the Cannibal should’ve been terrifying, but you knew in that very moment that he would not kill you. He was just as stunned as you were in the revelation that you uncovered. This dragon was old and no creature had ever lived through his flames.

Not once.

Not until now.

With each step closer, you felt the strength he emanated. Unadulterated raw power flowed through you from the top of your head to the tips of your toes as you stood in the darkness. Bones and the dust of bones that had been stepped on for over a century littered the ground ahead of you. The stench of death and the heady, earthy scent of the dragon hung heavy in the air.

The light of the moon stopped just ahead of you, but you saw the dragon shift in the darkness, his green eyes glowed from high above. Yellow embers shimmered from his belly, casting a faint glow to the nest from under his black scales, but they only illuminated bright enough to light the stone below him.

The ground shook beneath your feet as he took long, lumbering steps towards your minuscule frame. You could still feel his flames around you, inside of you, though they weren’t physically there. The Cannibal’s head lowered menacingly and he tilted it to the side to look you over fully with one massive, angry eye.

“Magnificent.” You whispered. The dragon growled and hummed “Issaros.” Stranger. The name fit him as the dragon himself was synonymous with death.

Issaros bared his teeth to you, saliva dripping from his maw. The gusts of air from his exhales were like mighty winds from the sea with how close he was.

“You have been free your whole existence. I do not wish to cage you, to tame you, to bind you to my will. I have great use for you, and you seek death…destruction…flesh.” You could see the interest pique in his eye as he continued to watch you with the threat of his teeth ever present.

“I will make you an offer: Follow me North and allow me the privilege of riding upon you into battle. In return, I give you the freedom to feast freely upon man and beast alike, but only those I have deemed my enemies. There are plenty, I assure you. You shall never want for blood and flesh again, my friend. After the war is won, you shall return here to the Dragonmont, or any other place you deem worthy to dwell in. You will always have your freedom and regardless of the bond we now share, I will not hold you hostage to me. With this, you have my word.” You stepped closer, bringing a palm up to rest along a spike on his snout. His lips twitched back in warning, but he did not move from you nor did he snap his teeth. Your eyes met his once more.

“Will you accept this?”

Erryk sat outside of the cave in near total silence. It could’ve been minutes, it could’ve been hours. He did not know. It wasn’t until the ground beneath him trembled immensely and a black mass exited the cave did he stand.

Erryk’s hair flew back behind him as the massive dragon flapped his leathery wings and took off into the night sky. He felt the blood drain from his face when he saw a flash of your silver hair upon the Cannibal’s back as he ascended to the stars.

You spoke truth, Erryk thought as he watched on with mental clarity. The proof was right in front of him and he did not dare blink should this be a figment of his imagination.

Your head was tilted back and your arms were stretched out to either side of you. The cold wind felt refreshing on your naked flesh as the dragon tore through the sky.

The deafening roar Issaros let out was bone-chilling and you had never before felt as powerful as you did in that very moment. With this ferocious killing machine beneath you, you would bring death and ruin to Aemond and all he held dear.

If there was ever a formidable dragon that could battle against the likes of Vhagar, as you had prophesised, it was the dreaded Cannibal.

What the dragon lacked in size by comparison, he had quadrupled in viciousness, ruthlessness, and cunning. He was a predator through and through, and had no qualms about killing for the sport of it.

And he deemed you worthy to sit upon him.

To sit upon a dragon so large was unlike anything you had ever felt. The only other times were when your father had taken you upon Caraxes as a girl, but that had been many years past. This, as an experienced dragon rider, made you feel invincible.

Issaros screeched at any other dragon who dared to come remotely near him in warning as he glided through the night sky. Most, if not all, knew of his temperament.

“They are needed.” You called to the dragon. “When this war is over, you may do with them as you wish, but for now they must live.” You felt his irritation, but he heeded your words all the same.

“If my Maestron were to ever fall, I would surely ride the Cannibal.” It was a prophecy spoken at such a tender age and you didn’t even know it. The words were a fantasy, said in the heat of the moment as a child, but those words had come to pass. Just as Daenys’ prophetic words had come to pass. Just as Aegon’s dream was sure to come to fruition.

The flames of magic flowed through your blood as the Cannibal flew through the skies in a miraculous display. It felt as though your ribs were expanding, like you could take infinite air within your lungs. To feel such an intense connection with such a wild dragon not only mended what Aemond had fractured, but it evolved something else deep within you.

You wanted blood.

You wanted retribution.

You wanted vengeance.

Erryk’s eyes were wide as he stared openly at you when you exited the cave. Soot painted over your body from the dragon fire and your hair was a mess of tangles from the wind. Streaks of blood littered your nude body from small cuts made by the dragon’s tough scales.

Erryk quickly removed his cloak when he saw your legs begin to buckle in your delirious steps towards him. When you were clear of the cave’s mouth, he ran to you and swept you into his arms, his warm cloak wrapped around you to preserve your modesty.

“I need a moment.” You mumbled against his chest. Your hand grasped onto the shoulder strap of his plated armor as he set you in the alcove he had been hidden behind. Erryk made sure his cloak was tightly wrapped around you when you shivered.

The knight crept over to your discarded belongings to hastily retrieve them. He tried not to jump when he heard the Cannibal’s purr rumble in the darkness, but his heart pounded furiously in his chest as he backed away slowly until he was shielded once more in the alcove.

Erryk stopped dead in his tracks when he saw you. Sprawled on your back, one arm stretched over your head and the other draped over your stomach. His cloak was pulled up to reveal your legs and covered only your more intimate areas. The ethereal glow of your skin in the moonlight was more than he, a man so strong in his convictions, could handle.

The scene before him could’ve been a painting, and it would be imprinted on his mind for the rest of his life. You had bewitched him, he thought as his stomach flipped and his heart sang. What he witnessed on this night was more than enough to convince him that you would change the Realm. For better or worse, he could not tell, but he would remain at your side.

Erryk allowed you a moment’s rest, but the moon was slowly dropping in the sky and the hour of the nightingale would soon be upon you. The lighter it got, the harder it would be to sneak your way back to the stables.

Erryk turned his back to you so you could sluggishly dress, then he took you in his arms once more to carry you down the Dragonmont.

Your fluttering eyes met his when he glanced down at you. Your palm came up to rest on his bearded cheek in a sweet caress.

“Rest, my Princess. I shall wake you when we’ve reached the horses.”

Days had passed since you took Ser Erryk to the Dragonmont, and he had returned with you every night since. Your trainings had also continued, and just as he promised, you were slowly gaining an understanding of the craft. You were by no means a warrior, but your footwork was improving and you had begun to think on the offense rather than wait to be cornered into defense.

Since that first night on the Mont, Erryk let his touch linger as he instructed you. He got closer, though it never progressed to anything more. You knew he’d never cross that line, much less put you in such a predicament. Erryk worked his entire life to be at his current station and you would not squander that for him.

Still, the temptation lit a fire within you with every touch and glance he gave you. The feelings, though they were forbidden, existed all the same.

At this point in the night Erryk would be waiting for you at the stables, but tonight he was not there by the time you arrived. He’d usually have your horse ready for you, but you didn’t mind saddling it yourself. You were adjusting the straps to the saddle on his borrowed horse when he trotted past you.

“Ser Erryk!” You called when he didn’t even spare you a glance. He pulled the horse to a stop and turned in your direction. “Where have you been off to?” You questioned in confusion. As far as you knew, he was in his quarters resting before your excursion.

Erryk looked at you with wide eyes as if he was looking at a ghost. He kept the horse stock still for a moment before dismounting and taking cautious steps closer to you.

“I had a task set by the Queen, Princess.” You noted that his movements seemed off. His gait held a different stride, and his voice was slightly higher. Brows furrowed, you tilted your head as you continued to analyze him. “I must report back to her at once, Princess.” His tone was impatient and he spoke to you as if you were a stranger. Something must’ve happened for Erryk to be this short with you.

“In that case, if you do not feel up to the ride, you may stay here. Tonight will be no different than the others.” You offered, knowing he would turn you down. You would give him some time to debrief with your mother and then he would insist on joining you.

That is…not what happened, much to your surprise.

“I’m afraid I will not make the ride tonight, Princess.” Odd. “My sincerest apologies.” You gave him a long look, not understanding why he was being so secretive. Relief flashed in his eyes when you nodded and mounted your horse. You tried to not let the flash of hurt you felt cross your features, but you definitely threw him a nasty look.

“Very well. I shall see you on the morrow.” You tapped the flank of your horse with your heel and turned in the direction of the gates.

Something rolling in your gut told you to turn back. Erryk’s abnormal behavior did not sit right with you, and you knew back in the stables that you should’ve stayed to push him for further details. Irritated with yourself, you turned your horse around and headed back to the Keep. Issaros would be cross with you, you were sure, but you would address him on your next visit.

As you got back to the main road, a raven cawed as it flew overhead. Stopping your horse, your head turned to follow the direction it flew in. It was far too late in the night for a raven to fly out of Dragonstone, much less in the direction of-

Your brain went blank for a moment and realization dawned on you. You kicked your horse sharply and he sprinted into a full gallop to race back to the Keep.

“It wasn’t Erryk, you fool!” You berated yourself, urging your horse to sprint faster. “It wasn’t Erryk!”

If you weren't simping for Ser Erryk before, you are now. I'm starting a support group.

We're setting things up for absolute mayhem.

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5-pp-man · 2 months

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another tierlist because ppl actually liked that first one;

the crème de la crop;

the first 2 eps i thought it was fine, but it didnt really captivate me as much as id hoped. but then ep 3 changed everything for me. i started to think "how could living armour work logically? everything so far has been edible, so this must be too, right?" i actually managed to think of the exact thing that this series did. that really made me realise the worldbuilding in this was something unique, and it only got better and better with each episode. its really managed to captivate me and i look forward to "delicious donderdag" every week :)

ANIME ORIGINAL LETS GOOOO absolutely bonkers show that almost slipped by me because it initially tried to fool its audience into thinking it was a regular dramatic military show. it still is but theres also a giant robot who plays by saturday morning cartoon giant robot rules. if that sounds like tonal whiplash to you, trust me, it is. and its amazing. have i mentioned how homoerotic this one is as well? yeah. originally a tier below this one, but immediately after finishing this post i watched the newest ep. i had to make an exception and edit the list because ep 9 changes everything. i havent been gobsmacked by a show this hard in a while.

(return of the) show(s) that execute their own premise very well;

i havent read the manga for yubisaki to renren so i cant compare, but the quality of this adaptation has been very consistent. you need a little sweet romance every once in a while :) this is one of those series where the characters really grew on me the longer it went on. im always a fan of mixing realistic struggles with romance and this one has been doing it well so far

adaptations that are ok (i read the manga for both of these);

i've been a mashle fan since before s1 aired. and the anime has some good changes and additions here and there! but its not very consistent in terms of quality, it does that shonen thing where the animation quality suddenly spikes for certain action sequences, but it also frequently had a lot of scenes where they recycle shots a lot and nothing interesting happens on the screen for a considerable amount of time. still! its a fine adaptation. and yeah the op for this. blew tf up lmao? very strange to see happen in real time

i actually rlly like the manga for this one. i read the whole thing up until vol.6 before the season started (all that was available back then) and it made me cry multiple times throughout. i was sort of missing that connection with the show, though some of the later episodes still hit. its mostly to do with the animation quality, which isnt that great unfortunately. the voice actors are knocking it out of the park though

wghere am i;

is this show good? i. uh. will you hate me if i say yes...? objectively, i know its not that good. especially in the animation department. but if you like other Umatani shows, you'll like this one. it's got the same brand of goofy reactionary humour mixed with gimmicky tacky characters and crazy stupid plot twists. ive been faithfully watching this one each week and I'm afraid i've become very invested. overscientific indeed

bro you fell off...;

i was so beyond excited for this one. i replayed the op a million times, watched each preview, rewatched multiple episodes. and then. ep 5 happened. and i started to realise. oh this show kind of sucks doesnt it? the pacing of the first ep was great, but the rest? way too fast. it became clear with ep 6 that theyre trying to do a double cour show with half the length, which is why they started hauling ass plot-wise. now. i was an arajin apologist for the longest time. but at that point i honestly started to loathe him. even when he stepped up, his praise still felt sort of unearned. and to top it all off, shindou's motivation sucked so he felt like a lousy antagonist. ep6 was better than 5, but it really made me lose my enthusiasm and hope for the series. and right as we were talking about them probably not having time for a filler ep, ep7 happened. feels like a waste of time to do an ep like that when you've still got a whole 2nd arc to go through. but who am i

it started off pretty good honestly. but then chris went to the hospital and it kind of just dwindled from there. this season does so much with characters that have not even been properly introduced like how am i supposed to care about these people if i barely know who they are. the stuff with finn and leo respectively was good though. but the lore dump? lord help me. also vijay just kind of. exists to be there in the background huh? i would not call him a main character they never give him any attention. wendy had another ep again and he didnt get shit. again. also i think finn was stupid as fuck for not listening to lala but again. who am i. i know we cant destroy high card because we need a show but. cmon man.

i am severely behind on these;

reason why im behind is because most of the eps are a bit heavy so i kept. not watching them. its starting to get rlly interesting though so i'm def gonna catch up this is one of those robo-racism shows so i have to really watch out to see where its going. dont want another marginal service situation...

sorry this is just. a little too boring for me. its charming, sure. but i think this wouldve worked better as something with an 11 min timeslot instead of 23 min. theres just a bit too mu- or well, too little for me to rlly get into this. i think reading it would be more fun for me personally

#dungeon meshi #yubisaki to renren #yuuki bakuhatsu bang bravern #30 sai made doutei dato mahoutsukai ni nareru rashii #gekkan mousou kagaku #bucchigiri?!#high card #metallic rouge #kyuujitsu no warumono san #delicious in dungeon #a sign of affection #brave bang bravern!#bang brave bang bravern #cherry magic!#delusional monthly magazine #bucchigiri #mr villain's day off #i did the review a bit later into the season this time around. so my thoughts are more in order and ive already dropped a few things #theres also 1 more category this time #also if youre curious; i ended up finishing everything from last season except for the 2 series in the couldve been better category #i finished a bunch of them way later though but shhh. im also planning on finishing the last 2 at some point. esp since ke is getting a s2 #like wtf. who couldve seen that coming.#tedpost #tedtalks #tedlists

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qianqiancandyjar · 5 months

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Ninjavember 2023!

Here's completed version with a bunch of explaining below each picture! Just scroll down if you don't want to see me blabbering. (I tried to go short as much as possible)

(I have a lot of AUs and headcanons that only exist in my head and my sketchbooks. Forgive me for wanting to spill them out.)

Day 2: Randy was listening to music with earphones so he didn't know Theresa was sitting next to him. Imagine how embarrassed he would get when he knows.

Day 8: Tech-Ninja AU. It's about machinist Randy being set up by Mcfist for murdering the town hero Ninja with his invention, the Tech-Ninja armor. Then the spirit of the destroyed Nomicon travelled to his armor and become an AI, choosing him to be the next Ninja. So Randy accepted it and was determined to make up for what he caused, when nobody except Howard, the boss of Weinerman industries, trusted him.

Day 10: Apocalypse AU. It's about Randy lost the battle at the end of season 2 and became the prisoner of the Sorcerer. The Nomicon was handed to Howard before that, and they later recruited survivors to form a resistance against the Sorcerer. Then Randy was stanked, but instead of turning into a monster, he was brainwashed and given the power of creating his own red and black stank. And- You know what will happen. (Inspired by the Darkness of Randy Cunningham)

Day 13: Elemental trial AU. You can say it's my take on what will happen in season 3. The Carp god was under the cover of a random carpfish as Norisville mascot. After a series of events it was awaken and gave Randy the power of Ice Rage.

Day 14: I think there's more than just the blood of First Ninja's brothers, since nobody knows how to destank people at the beginning...

Day 17: The Warrior might have been living or sleeping there, waiting for some ninjas to wake him up or consult him about his forbidden arts. (Ha, It's kinda like Eclipsa in Star vs. the forces of Evil)

Day 18: Or it can be called the New Generation AU. In the future, Randy took the place of Messager as well as the Ninja Guardian, while Brent became the new Sword Smith and Sorceress became their main villain. I am not really good at designing OCs so there's no next ninja yet.

However, I read a fanfic of another fandom in the form of CYOA, and it gave me new idea: just let the reader be the next ninja, it will be fun, too. (Also, this AU was inspired by an RC9GN fanfic titled from the past to the future, where future Randy became Ninja Guardian. But I couldn't find it on fanfiction.net any more. Has anyone read it? I didn't dream about it, right?)

Day 19: During that time I got even crazier after I read Enter the Nomicon. It's hard to believe I had a crazy period of shipping Randicon, even for myself. Especially weird for me since I now have a completely different view about Nomicon (peek at my Yokai Ninja AU comics). Time really can change a person, wow.

Day 21: Yes, a whole page just for this headcanon. I used the screenshots in the show because it's too hard to draw. The barrier thing is kinda like the one that held Bill's power in the range of Gravity Falls.

Day 23: Danny: the Walking Air-Conditioner. Inspired by a chapter of Secret Quartet. Danny phased his hand through the scarf. Just imagine your friend put a cold hand inside your scarf in winter. *shiver*

Day 25: Besides Ninja vine ball, there are also spike ball, gas ball, sonic ball, rainbow illusion ball, tear ball and so on. I just pick the most common one from my ninja balls headcanons to put in here.

Day 27: You may see I prefer using numbers to refer episodes, because that's how I track and rewatch them. To be more specific, I list some keywords here: NomiRandy, First Ninja, Debbie, Tengu. As fellow RC9GN Fans I'm sure you get it.

Day 30: It's a half-baked AU thing. The flowers I tried to draw are rosemary?

Wow! I actually finished all the prompts! Thank you for holding the big event! @evilspiritweek

(I don't mind sharing more details about my AUs or headcanons. *wink*)

#randy cunningham 9th grade ninja #rc9gn #ninjavember 2023 #ninjavember #randy cunningham #secret trio #rc9gn first ninja #howard weinerman #theresa fowler #rc9gn sorceress #rc9gn tengu #rc9gn theresa #fan art #rc9gn nomicon #nomirandy #rc9gn au #rc9gn fanart

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the-eeveekins · 4 months

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25 Days of G-Witch Reflection

This was my 4th time watching G-Witch, but really the first time I've watched it start-to-finish since the show ended in July (I watched the Japanese version twice a week when it was airing and was also watching the English dub simultaneously, which ended a few weeks later). The idea to watch an episode a day starting December 1st and ending on Christmas Day didn't come to me until very late in November, when I was thinking about wanting to make sure I watched it again before the year ended. It was challenging at times and stressful at others, but I looked forward to watching an episode every day and writing down my thoughts on each one, and those thoughts slowly grew with each episode.

My thoughts? Well I still love this show, and honestly the pacing felt better this time around, but maybe that's just me getting used to it. That's not to say it's pacing is amazing, but now that I don't have the burden of certain expectations going in, the pacing and the speed at which the ending happened feel more natural. In addition, a lot of big problems I had before really feel like it might be a case of me overthinking things once I started writing them out everyday, but there's still the issue of the show being ambiguous enough that those things aren't clear in the first place.

I think G-Witch's biggest problem is the expectations people have going into it, some due to it being a Gundam series and some being how well it executes it's background themes. There is an expectation that the show will seriously tackle the conflict between Earth and Space, the corporate corruption, the co-opting of medical technology for warfare and the transhumanist questions raised in the prologue and ending. I personally believe that those were never meant to be a focus, that the point of this story was the relationship between Suletta & Miorine and the conflict of their families (with The Tempest serving as the framework for the story) and everything else was a background detail meant to move that story forward. So maybe the reason I love it so much and many of it's "flaws" don't bother me is I never expected it to (nor really wanted it to) tackle those issues, and focus on that family drama instead.

I remember being in the minority when the 2nd season was airing that didn't want a 3rd and 4th season, especially one that would turn G-Witch into a traditional war story. I liked that G-Witch seemed to be aiming for a smaller, tighter focus around Suletta & Miorine's family, and I could tell midway through S2 that that story was barreling towards it's conclusion and anymore would've just been another Gundam war story unless they continued to take this AU further and further away from the core Gundam experience.

Unfortunately, for one reason or another, the show itself seemed to forget that in parts of S2, and tried to be more like a traditional Gundam series for a moment. Watching it day-to-day makes episode 15 really stand out for how egregiously out of place it is, and the series ties too hard to keep Guel relevant during it's finale, to the detriment of more important things. We may never know what happened behind the scenes, but I still firmly believe that this was a result of executive meddling. My biggest complaint after this 4th viewing is that S2 spent too much time on the Jeturk family and not enough time with the Rembran family (Delling and Notrette are almost an afterthought), and instead of building the SAL as the final antagonistic faction, we wasted time following the Dawn of Fold for an episode that didn't impact the story. Definitely still think they needed to introduce the Demi-Barding & Gundam Schwarzette earlier and do a little more with them.

I definitely wish Suletta & Miorine spent more time together in S2, but I don't know that I'd change anything significant enough in S2 to make them spend significantly more time together. I would just give them more time in the wake of their reunion to see them talk afterwards before Suletta boarded the Calibarn. And even if the number of scenes they physically shared was small, they constantly thought about each other and motivated each other through the entirety of the season. Everything Miorine did was for Suletta's sake. Miorine was constantly in Suletta's thoughts, even after the divorce, and she never gave up on that relationship.

It's been 6 months since the series finished airing, and I still think about it daily. I still have a lot of emotions regarding the series. I cry pretty much the entire 2nd half of the final episode still, I still can't listen to Houseki no Hibi without breaking into tears, and it even hits me sometimes when listening to The Blessing or looking at various pieces of art. Much to my surprise, and my immense relief and happiness, not a day goes by where I don't see a new piece of Sulemio artwork, and seeing them together still brings me great joy and happiness. Suletta is my favorite fictional character ever, and Miorine is right next to her, and they're both incredibly important to me for a number of reasons. I love them so much that it actually got me to write fiction about characters that aren't my OCs, and even post my writing publicly for the first time. This show and it's ending makes me incredibly happy, but I also felt an incredibly strong melancholy when it ended that took me over a week to get over, and those feelings have strongly returned in the wake of finishing it again.

I don't know how long this hyperfixation will last. I've never loved a piece of media or characters as strongly as I love G-Witch and Sulemio, and I'm definitely in uncharted territory when it comes to that. But until I stop thinking about this show and these girls on a daily basis, I'm going to keep talking about it and showing it my love.

#25 days of g witch #g witch #the witch from mercury #gundam #g witch spoilers

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visd3stele · 2 years

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Can I request some Criston Cole angst. Maybe she's rhaenyra's older half sister who had targaryen magic(interpret as you will). She and Criston fell in love and she gets pregnant but her powers began to get out of control before she tells him as she finds out about him and rhaenyra and nearly hurt rhaenyra so Viserys banished her. Daemon takes her to Essos to get help with her powers (only one who acknowledges her). Episode 5 angst (Criston pov) Criston x reader happy ending.

hope you like it 🤗

tw: spoilers from ep5, cheating (sort of), vague hints of *aham* bedroom activities (nothing detailed or explicit), reader going mad for a bit there, canon Criston bullshit, child loss, raw pain ( i hope 😁), lmk if there needs to be something else up here

a/n: so... it is kind of his pov, but i have to confess i skipped that part and went straight to writing and i actually really like how it turned out. oops? i'm sorry... maybe i'll write something else from his pov after i finish the requests i got. aaand, i combined this with another ask (X).

masterlist ; requests

Love the way you hurt me

"Princess y/n Targaryen was born a peculiar child," Lady Alicent whispered back to Ser Criston Cole. "No wonder Viserys chose Rhaenyra as heir." She added, sipping from her filled cup, stealing a stealthy glance at you.

You were sitting in a corner at the banquet after the tournament. Speaking to no one, swaying alone on a rhythm only you could hear, watching everyone intently.

"It is said she was born eyes wide open, not even a whimper, much less crying like babes should do."

Ser Cole fixed his inky gaze on you. Curiosity flooded the obscure eyes, deep and warm in their darkness despite the steel surrounding him at all times, as soon as he first laid eyes on you. At the tournament. When princess Rhaenyra, the realm's delight, filled the air around her with joyous interest in the world around, you kept to yourself, seemingly unaware of the happenings taking place around.

He had approached you first, lured in by your unusual beauty. Eyes big and attentive, the e/c in your irises like a haze over what lurked beneath. Face nor cold, nor warm to prying glances of the court, but the one of a goddess of old. Ser Criston has heard about the mistiques of Velarys, how inhuman its inhibitors are. But he never believed – nor understood – until he saw you.

He has asked of your blessing in the fight, like knights are supposed to. You lowered your gaze on him and your statue like demeanor broke for a second, before looking through him. That second was 'nough for Ser Cole, to steal his breath and bind his soul. The veil lift from your eyes and traveled deep within his, piercing his very being.

You didn't grant him his blessing, so he had to seek it from your sister. You spoke no words, nor did you acclaim his win. It only served to pull him more towards your mystery. Which led him to the conversation with Lady Alicent.

"She barely talks. The prince, Daemon is the only one to get to her. Make her react to a human presence. Other than that, she spends her days with the dragons. Or painting in her room. No one is allowed in her chambers, not servants, not even her family."

Lady Alicent leaned closer as the story thickened. "Actually, there was a woman. Y/n responded to her better than she does to Daemon. She was very clingy of this woman as a child, the only one to enter her room. After she died, y/n fasted for a whole year. No food, no water. The maestress do not know how she survived."

Criston's brows were lost in his messy curls. No matter how hard he tried to tame them for the event, his brown locks rebelled again and again. "Who was the woman?"

"A maid." Alicent Hightower shrugged. "Though some people believe she is y/n's real mother, not the late queen."

"The princess is a bastard?"

"So the gossip goes. Excuse me now, Ser Cole, but I hadn't danced at all since I arrived. It won't do," the young woman smiled and hurried away to find a pair on the merry hum of chords.

Ser Criston dunked a cup over his head. 'Twas, indeed, too much to take... at least while sober, that's it. When he turned around, there you stood. Behind him, those empty eyes that seem curios, yet all knowing.

Criston didn't know what happened to him. He considered himself quite the ladies' dream. With a body sculpted by the finest artists, muscles carved sharply by years of practice, with his eyes so dark they catch every light in the room in a soft glow, a dashing smile brighter than his armor and, well, being a knight, Ser Cole met no problems finding lovers.

Though he wasn't a cruel one, as others might think. He never laid with a woman he didn't felt for. And he expected that same passion returned. It caused him lots of heartbreaks in his young life. But it only seemed to make his heart expand, hoping to find that one true love poets sing about.

Now...? Now something differed. His throat dried the second he locked eyes with you. Color rose in his cheeks as he searched the room in a franzy. As if a speech would lie waiting for him on the walls. His heart skipped a beat, only to resume its race faster than it pumped during the tournament.

Before he could compose himself and add thoughts to a currently barren mind, he heard you speak. "We are to dance tonight." You had said. And Ser Cole barely contained a whimpery moan. Your voice sounded like honey tasted in a rainy morning, spread on freshly made bread. Not sweet like the addictive cakes, but not bitter either. Soft, yet powerful. Steady and decisive, so far a cry from the way orders are given. It was a certainty, a simple fact voiced out as one would say the sky is blue and a sword – sharp.

"Pri- princess?" Criston winced as he stumbled dumbfounded over his words. You didn't repeat yourself. Instead raised your arms towards him, palms facing the floor. He noticed dried paint around your nails and he smiled. Such a well put together image, only to show him a bit of chaos no one else would see. A sentiment of pride rose in his chest and Ser Cole loosened a bit, releasing a long exhale of breath. He didn't even notice when his inhales became short and sharp.

He bowed, remembering to bid a hand at his back. Took one of your hands in his own and dropped a kiss on the back of it. Criston shuddered at the warmth of your skin. No healer he was, nor versed in such knowledges, but he could swore your temperature was abnormally high.

Raising his forehead to steal a peek at you, he was stricken by your smile. "Blood of the dragon runs with fire inside the veins." Was it a joke? Criston thought so. As some of your warmth passed to him, Ser Cole chuckled lightly, an unsure smile – no less sincere make no mistake – playing on his lips.

"It's worth it to burn if it shall be by your doing." His self seemed to regain conscious as he grinned at you while interlacing your fingers for the new dance.

"You won't burn," you said, following him in the midst of carefree people dancing tirelessly. Something in the way you said it pinched a nerve, sending a shiver up Criston's spine. It wasn't a misunderstanding of his flirting. More of a reassurance: he won't burn... but something else will happen to him.

He shook the thought away. Surely, just a draft of a tipsy brain. Though he didn't drink but a couple cups – always putting his duty as a knight first of mere pleasures – Ser Cole thought he could lose himself whole in your being. An overbearing presence he couldn't resist. Not that he wished to.

Criston shook his head again. Yes, that must be it. He let that Lady Alicent fill his mind with conspiracies about you. There was no denying you were far from being like anyone else he has ever met, true. But that feeling must be exaggerated by his growing attraction to you.

"You like painting?" Criston decided to entertain a conversation while dancing. Act normal around you. He knew he made the right call when another smile, brighter than the last, bloomed on your face.

"I do."

"What do you paint?"

"Mostly what I see. Though there are times I ask dragons to pose for me."

Once again, he brushed the chilling tingles at the way you spoke about what you see. He had a feeling you meant something else than the sights outside.

He tried a joke. "I bet there are other models you could try. Maybe one's portrait."

"You shan't mean your own, do you, Ser Cole? Can I really be that lucky?"

Criston laughed. And his shoulders relaxed as your own stiff tension vanished away. A changed he noticed in you, one he cherished and allowed be fully calmed by. For the first time since he met you, you were truly present. Giving him the opportunity to make the aqquintance of the real princess y/n that, for reasons he shall find later, hid beneath a mask with everyone else.

"Well, princess, it's my duty to serve you. However you may wish."

Something even wierder happened then. You laughed. Ser Cole decided that is how life itself sounded like if it could be heard guiding its beings through. The chime of bells falling on the ground from a crib. A tune ringing on the happiest of his days. It sounded like the empty noise that caressed his ears after the last clash of metal on metal in a fight. Right before realization settled in – that he won, that he lived – your laugh was the dazed buzzing of the essence of life.

"I thought it meant solely in battle, no?"

"Not every battle must be on a dusty field, ending with me bloodied head to toe."

"Ah, that can't be true. You barely had a scratch today. The others looked like you described, but you? You only had smeared blood on your chin from a lip cut." And with your words you brought your fingers to his mouth, brushing your thumb over the crust standing in relief against the pulpy softness of his lips.

Criston shuddered again. This time not with fear, but with content. Your other four fingers traced his cheek. You made no movement to take them away, but still, Criston covered your hand with his, trapping it in place. He moved it slightly and you allowed it, weightless in his touch. He dropped a kiss to your wrist.

Ser Cole urged all the training he endured to resist taking you right there and then. Your response to his humble kiss sparked wild desire within him: fluttering eyelids, a sigh bordering a moan, a woman like he has never seen before.

If there wouldn't have been the cream of Westeros' nobility in the room, Criston would have grabbed the back of your neck and smash his lips to yours.

"You will have me tonight," you said, as if reading his thoughts, and this time the sure finality of your words escaped him. "I shall see you in my chambers. The door will be unlocked."

Too stunned to stop you, Criston let you walk away. Only the teasing glint in your eyes as you turned to whisper "thank you for the dance, Ser Cole," over your shoulder kept him company until the hour of lovers came to be. Finally.

He questioned it later, the speed with which you gave yourself to him in the sacred chambers only a selected few has seen, on a royal bed from which you never thrown him out of. He questioned it on another night of pleasures, with another princess in his arms. One less confusing with whom things were simple. (He liked simple. Or so he believed).

But for now, Criston Cole was too wrapped in your alluring secrecy. In your truths only he, amongst all the guests in the palace, had the honor to hear.

So he tipped on his toes, armor forgotten in the confinements of his given room. Dressed only in a nightwear the light of his candle revealed his body through. He made his way, as pulled by a string, to your suit. He needn't even knock. The creak in the door confirmed the right place and all Criston had to do was lift a ghostly touch on the wooden plank. Barely a push and he could sneak inside, securing the lock closed shut and tight.

It was the beginning of a formidable romance. The more he visited you, the more he fell in love. He didn't just lay with you as a husband would to a wife, he confessed his hidden most thoughts, highest desires and embarrassing fears. You did the same. The odd look in your gaze no more when he was with you.

Criston knew he can't be seen with you. But the more your love grew, the more he wanted to kiss your cheek every time he passed by you n the halls, or to have you wish him unneeded luck in battle, only for him to come out the winner and smile lovingly at you. "For princess y/n," he wished he could say. About every thing he did in life, in fact.

And the knight was sure you loved him too. Just as much, if not even more. Sometimes his thoughts would circle back to the first time you met, trying to understand if there was love in the depths of your eyes ever since. It couldn't be, and still...

Ser Cole willed every insecurity away. Every question or strange feeling. After all, you were a normal woman, with maybe too much to shoulder alone.

Until one day, when his love had to face his believes. He came to you at night as usual, a huge smile adorning his barely lit face under the thick curtains of his curls. He looked exactly like a lover in the old tales, come to steal the princess away. What was knew, though, was your distress.

"Y/n?" Criston called, dropping the wine he managed to steal and rushing to your side. What he saw tighten the aorta in a strangling grip around his heart.

The room a mess of rumpled papers, brushes and coals at every step, the desk broken apart with its pieces thrown all around. Criston had wanted to wonder what happened and who did this. But one look at you and he knew.

You were cowered in yourself on the bed, back rising with your breath too quickly. Ragged sobs echoing off the silent walls. Inside your deathly grasp, another wrinkled paper laid. Your fingers brushing over it, chipping pieces, letting them fall like ashes on the blankets.

Scared as he was - even the simplest man, a nonbeliever, can feel magic so strong when it's in his air - Criston tried to rub a comforting hand over your back. The second he touched you, he felt his skin melt in angry hisses.

He stepped away. And it was then you first looked at him. Your eyes smudged with tears, a crazed pain inside. "Can't stand to even look at me, Ser Cole?" You rasped. The way your fingers curled and uncurled around the well kept treasure you had, the way your barked words and roars of crying prolonged your mouth wide open, the heat you streamed into the burning room... Criston has never been more terrified in his life. For the first time, he had an idea of what 'the blood of the dragon' meant. For you looked like one. A majestic predator trapped in the body of a woman.

Before he could regain a sense of himself and reality, you snaped by him, disappearing around the corner. Criston didn't follow, eyes locked on the crumpled paper you left behind. Curiosity won in the end. Instead of following you, he grabbed the paper and softly, with upmost care not to break it, he unfolded it. The knight, trained to consider the enemies' moves, make quick and logical battle plans and look at the world as it is, rather than how it could be in one's fairytale, had to understand what he has just been a witness to.

As Criston took in the drawing, brows furrowed in even more confusion than before, a familiar voice screamed nearby. Dropping the sheet, Ser Cole ran towards bustle. Where you attacked your younger sister.

Princess Rhaenyra bore marks of burnt where you touched her, some in the shape of a wide open palm, some looking like fisted knuckles. "A dragon shan't burn," you spit, going in for another kick. The princess was on the ground, stumbling away from you, But the circle that closed in around the two sisters won't allow it. There's nothing the courtiers love more than gossip, even at the expanse of their realm's delight.

"Enough!" Criston boomed, catching your hand. He has put the whole armor on, yet he could still feel your fire. "You'll kill her."

"And that would break your heart, won't it, Ser Cole? Look at you, all a trembling mess at the sight of me. The brave knight who come to save his princess-" you stole a spiteful look at your sister before bestowing your piercing gaze upon him once more -"from the freak."

Criston will beat himself up for not doing anything that day. In your absence, he'd put the puzzle together and welcome guilt to consume him, wishing to be your fire.

But now he was too lost, too scared. He saw a maiden in need of saving and a woman gone mad. All he could think about was that maybe Lady Alicent has been right that far away night. You were, indeed, a peculiar bastard.

"Let her go," a commanding voice towered over him. The prince Targaryen hushed the lot of peasants, servants and bashful nobles away. "Help Rhaenyra to the healers."

A last thread of defiance clawed its madly in love head out. Despite your outburst he couldn't explain, he still felt for you. Deeply. He couldn't let you go. But he wouldn't accept you either... At least not yet.

"My prince," Criston bowed reluctantly, releasing his hold on your wrist.

"Can you stand?" He asked Rhaenyra. She gave him a subtle nod and accepted his hand to pull slowly pull herself up. They limped away in a soft embrace. When Ser Cole stole a peek behind, Daemon and you were gone.

He found the next day the king has finally lost his patience with his oldest daughter upon hearing of what had happened between you and Rhaenyra. In a burst of fury, he exiled you.

"Daemon is with her. No one knows - nor care to know - where." Lady Alicent informed Criston on their way to visit Rhaenyra who was advised to stay in bed until she completely heals.

"How do you feel?" He asked her when Alicent rushed out to empty herself of the rich breakfast. Viserys has married her no long ago, already giving her a child.

"Well. Not at all as if my sister just tried to kill me."

"Right," Criston cringed. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's not your fault. I think I always knew she'd snap. I just didn't want to believe it."

"Were you close?"

Rhaenyra shook her head, tilting it to face the covers in shameful sadness. "No one was. Except Daemon and her late mother. It seemed for a bit she let you in too."

"Her mother?"Criston decided against pondering too much on the narrow list of people you allowed the company of.

"I thought Alicent already told you. Our father cheated my mother with a servant in her chambers. Y/n is the result of that."

"Is that why you two never..."

"Not at all!" Rhaenyra exclaimed, guessing very well what Criston was about to ask. "Her mother was a bit of mine too, in fact. After mine died birthing me, y/n's took care of both of us, raising us like sisters. But she seemed lost in her own head. The only times she talked to me was scary. Cripted warnings with no explanation. Like to stay away from Alicent.

When y/n's mother died I tried comforting her. I thought we could finally bond. But she stared me in the eye - a look I can't forget to this day - and told me not worry about her. She's been through this many times. But about myself and my friends I surround with. I hadn't try speak to her since."

Days passed and Criston and Rhaenyra grew closer and closer 'til a beautiful friendship was tied. Ser Cole seemed to have forgotten about you, if not for the daily walks to your suit. The way there imprinted in his mind.

He'd sit on the bed, head hanging between his palms rested on his knees. Lost in thought. Other times he'd pace the still not cleaned floor. Pick drawing after drawing up, trying to decipher what he looked at. The knight kept the paper you smoldered in your grip the day you attacked Rhaenyra. Hanging like the most valuable piece of art in his room, greeting him in the morn', lulling him to sleep at night. Two bodies tangled together, hands clasped in desperate union stretched on white sheets.

One night, as he said goodbye to the dragon heir after spending hours in each other's filled with desire arms, Criston went back to his own bed. The smile he wore faltered and fall when he saw your drawing. A perfect image of the sweetly love making he has just returned from.

"It can't be." He whispered, a poor attempt to convince himself against what his right mind already knew as truth. Criston took down the drawing, smoothening it on the cold floor. He brushed his fingers over every inch of it as still fresh memories confirmed it. You drew the future that day.

"And any other day," Ser Cole muttered. A sort of frightened admiration washing over him. He knew the stories, of course he did. Everyone has heard of Velarys' magic running in the veins of its people. Most people thought it's only the dragons. Taming them, controlling the beasts. It was so much more, he too lately realized.

Your too hot skin, never to be burned but meant to burn. Your lost eyes, seeing time's rush behind the e/c veil.

Criston twirled his sword in one hand, thinking, trying to contain the anger in his bones. What was he supposed to do with this information now? Would it change anything? You still mercilessly attacked your own sister in a fit of jealousy.

Yes, a voice in his head deadpanned. But even he could admit to himself, even if he could accept his love for you never died, Criston also had to see there was nothing more to do than moving on. Daemon took you skies know where. And you probably loathed him even if he could find you. Maybe it was time to move on. Your drawing of the future showed it too.

So Criston Cole had tried. And so Criston Cole has failed. He saw you in every face he looked at. Heard you in every voice addressing him. None as beautiful, none as etheral as your figure and the sound of your speaking. But his mind couldn't help but conjure your memory in every aspect of his life.

It drove him mad. He couldn't sleep, eat, nor train without your doomed presence looming over him. It's your fault, it seemed to say. You abandoned me, cheater. You broke me.

He could take it no more.

It was the banquet of Rhaenyra's wedding when Criston let go of any protocol, care and worry. He has dishonored his vows, tainted by desire. Every time he left her chambers the hole in his soul expanded. Fury at himself ate him alive. And not only for the kingsguard white cloak, not so pure anymore.

No, he should have never received it in the first place. After he allowed his love turned hate by gross fear, after he allowed it to hurt you and you to hurt Rhaenyra. After he fulfilled your pained prophecies, Ser Criston Cole shouldn't have reach such a title. Clearly, he wasn't worthy of it. The only thing he had to bring pride to his name and he muddled it.

Maybe the princess would be happy to leave with him. After all, there were many unhappy voices in the council with her father's choice. It would be so easier. A new life in Esos, forgetting the old, burying the hurt.

So he took an offer of good faith - oranges and cinnamon - to signify his loyalty and the undying of his love. Nevermind it may be another lie he tells himself to feel better, to sooth a pit - he carved with his own two hands in his being - short moment for short moment.

As he searched for the princess-heir, Ser Cole found himself face to face to a breathtaking sight. You. Criston would have thought he's imagining things had he not spotted Daemon by your side. Whispering something in your ear.

Ser Criston froze on his feet. Taking in all your etheral beauty he dreamt of every day, night and in between. You haven't changed at all - of course you didn't. Criston reminded himself you were only gone for a few months. The same striking gleam in your eyes, the same inviting lips curled into a sober smirk.

The knight felt his heart sink. You were farring so much better in your uncle's company. His eyes slide down in shame, only to fixate on your form. Something has changed, after all. A swollen belly poked your garments with heavy pregnancy.

"Tell my brother I shall not attend this wedding without my wife to be," Daemon argued with a stubborn guard.

Cole's heart sunk even more. Wife to be. A baby. You moved on so fast while every memory of you was ever lasting in his heart, pulling him backwards each time. He deserved it.

He needed to act now. Find Rhaenyra and leave. All he could think about looking for the bride of tonight was how much he wished to have a pinch of your magic right now. Ironic, he knew. But, oh, what he wouldn't give to burn the prince's hands off when he touched you.

Everything happened so fast afterwards. His rejection by the princess numbed him. The three bottles of alcohol he has breathed in arose his anger. Then he found himself in the midst of a chaos he didn't understand.

Criston stumbled on his feet, vision a blur of colors and shapes. Blood spilled around him as men begin to stab guests all of a sudden.

"Daemon, I'm dying," he heard your voice. The knight turned around, blinking the dizziness away in a futile attempt to spot you.

"I won't let that happen, y/n. But I need you to focus, where is Rhaenyra?"

"She will survive."

"Y/n, that's not what I asked. Where is she? Please!" Criston has never heard such desperation in the dragon prince's voice. "Remember why we came here, yes? To warn them. Protect them. That is why I killed my wife and pretend to be your betrothed. So, focus. Where is Rhaenyra?"

"She'll survive. I won't. The baby..." You trailed off. Ser Cole's heart broke in pieces. And if it already was broken as he could argue later, then the pieces spread too far gone to be made whole again. Your voice. Just like the one you had months ago when you saw him cheating on you. Except this time the madness in your voice was replaced by sorrow. "We cannot change the future, Daemon."

Your voices became clearer now for Ser Cole. Even in the maihem that broke around him. He turned one more time and he almost leaped. There you were, pulled by a bloodied Daemon, fighting your way out of the massacre.

"Yes, we can. That's why you have these visions. You and the babe will live to see tomorrow morn'. I swear this to you."

Criston begin to sway his way towards you when a strong man rushed right in front of him, carrying you on his back. He blinked and almost made a move to follow him. But the he saw you again, in the same spot as before, still cinging to Daemon Targaryen.

Rhaenyra will survive, your voice ranged though his hazed mind. The only thing making sense for the drunken night. I won't.

Just as he thought it Criston saw Joffrey Lonmouth sneaking at your back. Sword drawn, reddened with the blood of his victims from tonight, hungry for more.

"Y/n," he shouted at the same time Joffrey yelled "death to the princess". It seemed he hasn't been the only one to confuse you with your sister.

Both Criston and Daemon moved at the speed of dragon fire. Daemon slicing Lonmouth's arm off while Ser Cole pulled you aside.

And they both thought they saved you. Until a shuddering scream left your lungs and you grew lighter and limper in Criston's hold. The knight looked down where the tip of the sword pushed through the baby bump.

Your hands went to rub it on instant, feeling uncousciously for the babe that could be no more. "This isn't right. This isn't right!"

"Y/n, I need you to breath, alright?" Daemon tried to sooth you, passing a trembling hand through his golden locks to stop it. "Get her to the maestress," he snapped at Ser Cole. "Now! What are you waiting for?"

That seemed to be enough to pull Criston out of the alcohol claws. He picked you up and rushed outside the dining hall, trusting Daemon to watch his back.

He ran faster than he ever did before. He wished he could have words of encouragement for you, but his throat has died and his brain could only focus on one thing: getting you away from the fight and into good care.

"No, no, no, no," you kept pulling at his arms, trying to break free. "This isn't right," you chanted, voice growing to yells of dellirium or lowering to mutters of a lost mind.

"It will be, princess. Please, let me take you to safety. Y/n!"

"The baby. My baby. Our baby!" Ser Cole barely salvaged the misstep, gaining back the lost track of his running rhythm.

"I should be dead too. I should be with our baby. I saw it. Why isn't it happening?" You demanded, tears spilling on from your chin on his arms.

At last, Criston reached the healers' corners. You were put to sleep so they could work uninterrupted by your hectic moves. He didn't leave you for one second, not even in the confused daze he tried to break from. He would guard at your head day and night until you shall come back to your senses.

"Princess y/n shall survive. But the babe is lost."

Ser Cole thanked the old lady and sat on the edge of the bed at your feet. Where your stomach has been swollen with life mere hours ago, a flattened reminder of the loss was in place. He reached to touch it, but decided against it. In the state of your mind, you must have not realized whom you're talking to. Daemon fathered the child... did he not?

"Criston?" It's been days until you woke up. He hadn't wondered outside to know the consequences of that night. He couldn't if it meant leaving you.

"Take it easy," the knight said as he saw trying to get up. "Is there anything you need?"

Instead of an answer, your hands flew to your stomach and a whimper broke through your sealed tight lips. "This isn't right."

Criston took your hands in his. "Hey, hey, look at me. Y/n, look at me. You did everything you could to be with your baby. But we can't fight fate. There must be a reason you survived, even if this isn't what you saw. I am sure soon enough you'll see a new future." Saying it, Criston smiled at you through unshed tears, nodding his head as if to pass you all his bravery. That wasn't that much in the moment, though.

"But, I lost our baby. And you're here, with me."

Choosing to ignore the sharp question of his presence, Criston focused on the first part of your speech. "You keep saying our baby..."

"You are - were," you winced, "the father. I have fallen pregnant after our first night together. It messed with my magic. After I saw you and Rhaeeyra... I'm sorry. I a, so sorry."

"No, I a, the one who should apologize. You have these amazing gifts and you choose to show them to me, out of all people. I didn't know how to appreciate you."

"Do you love her? My sister?"

"No. I love you, y/n. It has always been you."

"But the look in your eyes back then..."

"A stupid, stupid mistake. I didn't understand you and I turned on you because of that."

You nodded, eyes still glued to your too thin waist. You have gotten used to the weight. "You never felt him kick."

"Him?"

"I saw him in the future. He looked like you. We were happy in Esos. But then I saw the attack and our death. And now... now I can't see anything. I am so confused, Criston," you cried, grief mixing with an emotion you have never knew: anxiety for the future.

"You are tired, y/n. Rest. Don't think too much of it. The visions will come back, just give it time. You have just woken up."

Ser Cole was about to live to get the maestress to take one more look at you. And, frankly, he needed time to munch on everything. He was a father for five months and he didn't even know. Now he lost a son.

"I saw you too. In Esos. With us," you said, picking his attention. "My visions aren't always in order, but I was so sure..."

"I haven't been sure of anything since I met you, y/n Targaryen. But say the word and I'll leave for Esos - for any place you want - with you."

"Take me to Esos, Ser Criston Cole. Now."

#ser criston #ser criston cole x reader #ser criston cole #criston cole x reader #criston cole #my writing #my wriitng #my fic writing #my fic ideas #my fic

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