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cryptidghostgirl · 3 months

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hiii can i request a silly little scene i have in my head? ok so!

alastor x wife! reader- theyve been together since they were alive, legit partners in crime they both encouraged eachother to kill and when they reunited in hell after around 8 years they were independent once again UNTIL They got in trouble with Lilith and she took reader to be like her slave until Alastor finished helping Charie with her dream (until he helped prove that demons can be redeemed) so they didnt see each other for another 7 years (his absence)

And all throughout the first season hes like “I miss my wife, Husk. I miss her a lot” (while drunk-) like that one sonic dub meme and starts shaping his shadow creature into reader and talking to it and everyone is like “m yep he’s officially lost it.”

BUT then Sir Pentious is redeemed and Lilith sees and shes like “damn :/“ and send reader to the new hotel via portal and reader just. falls on the ground in front of the big entrance and everyone hears it and they rush out and Alastor is quiet, wide eyed and reader goes smth like “i know- i shouldnt have accepted it in your name but-“ blah blah she rambles on about it and Alastor just goes “Youre as beautiful as the day I los you.” LIKE THAT HEARYBREAKING SCENE FROM HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON 2 ;-; and everyone reacts in their own way

I REALLY NEED THIS BUT I LACK THE ABILITIES TO DO IT HEEELP (love u)

A/N oh bestie,, i got you. I was actually planning on something similar where Alastor was getting drunk at a bar and talking about the love of his life (I'm still gonna write that one too but I really like this prompt!!) You guys really come up with the best requests, please keep sending them in.

Fuel and the Fire (Alastor x Wife!Partner-in-Crime!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: ANGST also bad words (idk why i wrote the warnings like this). Also Angel Dust is in this one and I love him but he is a warning on his own.

Word Count: 2,392

Master Lists:

Master Lists

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Alastor and Y/n, partners in crime, the fuel and the fire. On a first glance, it would be assumed she was his fuel, the coal and dry leaves he fed himself by. Once anyone got to know them -- and god, what trouble a person was in if they got to know them -- they quickly realized it was the other way around.

Hand in hand from day one, from childhood. Running from the cops, washing the blood off one another's faces. In the living world and life after death, nothing could tear them apart. He was the soil she planted herself in, he was her rock and Y/n? Well she was Alastor's everything. He'd do anything at all for her, all she had to do was ask.

For a decade, they terrified the living world. They were the reason to double check the lock on the door before bed, they were the ominous shadow at the corner. When cold death wrapped them in his reckless grasp, they turned their terror on Hell.

The pair made a name for themselves quickly, filling up the airwaves and making waves in the underworld. For generations, they reigned supreme. For generations, they knew no fear. Then one day, they simply disappeared.

When Alastor reappeared on the streets seven years later without his shadow, the town was alight with gossip. No one knew where he had been, where she still was, or why he had returned but Alastor quickly rebuilt his operation, setting up shop at Lucifer's daughter's Hazbin Hotel along with several of the souls he owned.

The hotel's other residents and workers were distrustful of the man, to say the least. He was shifty, wore a constant smile, and rumors circled around him like birds of prey. That was until about three months into his stay, at least.

Angel hadn't meant to eavesdrop. He'd been coming down to the bar for a drink and a rant of his own when he'd heard the familiar, crackling voice of the Hotel's host.

"I just... I miss her so much, Husk."

He sounded sad, utterly dejected. Angel crouched down on the staircase, hiding his slim body behind one of the ornate posts supporting the railing.

"You keep saying that but do nothing to go find her. She disappeared the same time as you, you know." came Husk's gruff reply.

"I know she did."

"You keep saying that, acting like you know something. Admit it: you don't know shit, Alastor."

Alastor's radio waves faltered, squeaking slightly. Angel tensed in terror, wondering if he'd been found out. This was clearly a private conversation, and the Radio Demon was testy at the best of times. Right now he seemed positively furious.

"Don't test me, Husk." Alastor said after a moment, breaking the tense silence, "She... we both got roped into something. I am doing my part, she is doing hers."

Angel straightened himself up, deciding it was high time he entered the room. He still wanted that drink, after all. He let his feet fall heavily on the stairs, alerting the others to his presence. Husk turned toward the sound, meeting Angel's eyes as he entered the bar. Alastor, on the other hand, kept his back to the spider demon.

Taking a seat beside Alastor, Husk immediately poured Angel a drink and slid it across the counter towards him.

"So, tough night, Smiles?" Angel asked, turning to Alastor who downed the rest of his drink in a single gulp.

"I don't know what you're talking about, my good fellow." Alastor hummed in response.

There was a threat in his voice, but Angel could tell the demon's heart wasn't in it. Everything was just, odd.

"Yeah... sure..." Angel scoffed, taking a sip of his own drink.

"Radio man was crying to me about his wife five seconds ago." Husk grumbled and Angel's eyes went wide.

"You have a wife?" he asked, turning back to Alastor, "I mean, I get it. I'm in to the whole 'tall dark and creepy' thing too but, you care about someone? I don’t know if I can see it.”

Alastor's eyes narrowed as he turned on Husk. The cat demon rolled his eyes in a brazen display of disrespect. He knew his master well, knew this was the only thing he had any leverage with the man on. With a deep breath, Alastor placed his hands firmly on the bar top and pulled himself to his feet. Not saying another word, he disappeared into his shadows.

That had been the first odd occurrence. Of course Angel had told Charlie and Charlie had told everyone, had even approached Alastor about it. The Radio Demon brushed it all off with skill and for a while, things were quiet.

About a month later, the second strange thing began happening. Alastor had always had a certain sway over shadows, everyone knew that. However, he very rarely used them, brought them out if it wasn't to hide him or take him where he needed to be. Then, suddenly, one began to follow him.

"Uh, Alastor?" Charlie had timidly approached him the first time she saw this happening.

"Yes, Charlie my dear?" Alastor asked, turning to face her as he tossed his microphone in the air, catching it neatly in the center of the stand.

"Well, we were just wondering if everything was... okay?" she asked, her hands behind her back and a pointed gaze on the shadow.

"If everything..." Alastor trailed off, following the path of Charlie's gaze and realizing what was going on, "No, no my dear. Everything is quite all right, quite alright indeed."

"Well, okay... If you say so." Charlie had relented after a few moments, unsure of what else to do.

Eventually, the members of the Hazbin Hotel grew used to the shadows, they too slipped out of their minds. Overcome with impending doom of the extermination just a month away, Alastor's strange behavior was no longer a priority.

That had been until the third odd occurrence came into being. It was Sir Pentious who had noticed it first, drawing it to the group's attention as Alastor walked through the lobby and past the group doing trust exercises there on his way to some meeting or another with the other overlords.

"Sir Pentious?" Charlie had called, trying to bring him back to earth as he watched the place Alastor had occupied, "Sir Pentious?"

"Pentious!" Vaggie yelled and his head snapped to her, "You're not coming up with some new plan to attack Alastor, are you?"

"No!" he quickly exclaimed, waving his hands frantically in the air, "Not at all just..."

"What?" Vaggie asked through gritted teeth, advancing a step forward, her spear in hand.

"It's just... doesn't that shadow Alastor has had following him well.... doesn't it kind of look like a woman?"

Husk broke out into wild laughter while Angel widened his eyes.

"Oh, he's definitely lost it now." Husk exclaimed as he calmed himself, clutching his stomach, "If I knew Y/n was the secret to breaking him down, I woulda done something about it years ago."

"No you wouldn't have, ya big talker." Angel teased, elbowing the cat demon lightly.

"Y/n?" Sir Pentious asked.

"Alastor's wife. That was her name." Husk replied.

"Did you know her?" Charlie asked.

Alastor had left the hotel, the threat that had held their questions at bay for months was gone and the topic was right. Husk nodded.

"So, what's she like?" Angel asked suggestively, "Is she more of a dom? Does deer boy like to get dicked down by his lady?"

"Gross." Charlie shook her head, her hands to her temples, "I do not want to know that."

"She's a good kid." Husk said after a moment, "She's nice..."

He trailed off.

"But?" Vaggie prompted, sensing there was more that he wanted to say.

Husk sighed.

"If you think Alastor is trouble, she's a fucking house fire set for the insurance money."

"So probably not interested in being a guest." Charlie dejectedly stated.

Husk shrugged.

"You never know. It has been seven years since anyone has seen her. Alastor allegedly knows where she's at but, he hasn't gone after her. Just keeps whining to me about it so, I don't know. Maybe she's changed. I doubt it though. Sweet as a pea, sharp as a knife."

Charlie had never felt such relief as when she learned Alastor had not died in the chaos of the battle. The hotel was destroyed, heaven was pissed, Sir Pentious had died but, at least he was alright. They rebuilt the hotel, Alastor's same shadow of a woman trailing after him wherever he went. After about a week, thanks to all the angelic and demonic powers involved in the construction, the new Hotel was finished.

It was just as they put the finishing touches on the place, hung the portrait of Sir Pentious they'd commissioned above the fire place, that a portal opened in the lobby. Everyone tensed, banding together behind Charlie and Alastor. Angels were coming, they were sure of it.

A crash echoed from the other side, a sharp yell and then something tumbled through the portal. With a flash, the portal disappeared behind the shape of a person huddled on the floor. She coughed violently.

Alastor's eyes went wide. Everyone else was too distracted to notice, but if they'd have been paying attention, they would have seen his shadow disappear.

The girl was filthy, her clothes torn and her hair tangled. She let out another, sharp cough before slowly lifting her head. Alastor took a trembling step forward.

"Y/n?" he asked, his voice soft in disbeleif.

A smile, wide and sharp, split the woman's bruised face in two.

"Hey hun, I'm home."

In a flash, he was at her side, helping her to her feet, checking her for wounds.

"Jesus, Y/n." he sighed, "You're a mess."

"I know."

"Y/n-"

"I know. I shouldn't have done it, you don't need to lecture me. I didn't have a choice. It was you or me, Al. I couldn't... I can't... I had to. You've gotta understand."

"Sweetheart-"

Y/n cut him off again, her speech a single, constant, stressed-out stream.

"It was stupid, I know. I know. I really do but, she gave me the option and I couldn't say no cause then if I said no you'd really be the one in trouble a-"

Alastor raised a hand gently to her cheek and Y/n's words caught in her throat. She looked up at him, meeting his eyes at last.

"You're as beautiful as the day I lost you."

His voice was soft, so quiet the others could barely hear him. Y/n's cheeks flushed a bright pink. Her hands found the lapels of his jacket, holding them lightly.

"I.." she stuttered, her mind racing.

With a sigh and a slight shake of her head, she gave up in the search for words and buried herself in his chest. Alastor wrapped his arms around Y/n, pressing her tightly into his frame.

"God, I missed you." she said, her voice muffled by the fabric.

Alastor pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

"I love you." she continued, "I'm so sorry."

Alastor pulled her off of him, leaning down the slightest bit so they were eye to eye. Y/n, wiped a stray tear away, letting out a slight, sad laugh. Alastor's eyes traversed her face, caressing every crevasse.

"I'm so glad your alright but, I don't understand." he said at last, "How are you back? The deal..."

Y/n nodded and Alastor's eyes went wider still. Leaning on Alastor's shoulder for support, she turned her eyes onto the rest of the group.

"You must be Charlie." she hummed softly, meeting the young demon's gaze.

Taking a deep breath, Charlie stepped forward and nodded.

"Yes, I am. I run the Hazbin Hotel, which is where you are, to help rehabilitate sinners."

"I know." Y/n nodded, her voice quavering slightly, "I've heard so much about you. You... my dear, it worked."

"I- what?" every other question died in Charlie's throat, shock shot through her body like a bullet.

"It worked." Y/n confirmed, "You did it. I had a deal, a deal which Alastor went to your side to get me out of. If you succeeded in redeeming a soul with his aid, I would be free. And here I am."

"Here you are." Alastor repeated, spinning Y/n to face him once again.

She wobbled unsteadily on her feet. Catching sight of this along with the numerous wounds all over her body, Alastor scooped Y/n up into his arms like he did when they had first been married, when they had crossed the first threshold together. Y/n looped her arms around his neck, exhaustion seeping in with the relief as she let her head fall on his chest.

"Vaggie..." Charlie began as she turned to her girlfriend, "you don't think..."

"Pentious?" Vaggie asked and Charlie nodded.

"It's gotta be." Angel confirmed.

"You did good, kid." Husk smiled, patting Charlie on the back.

Y/n raised her head at the sound of a familiar voice, her eyes opening.

"Husker?" she asked with a smile.

The cat demon stepped forward, bowing slightly.

"Husker! I-"

"Enough of that, my love." Alastor cut her off, tapping her nose gently, "You need a shower and some rest. You can meet everyone in the morning."

Y/n crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes as she looked up at her husband.

"Promise?"

"Yes, I promise." he sighed.

"Does that mean you're staying?" Charlie asked tentatively and the couple turned to her.

"Whatever the little lady desires." Alastor stated, looking back down at his wife in a lovestruck daze.

"Yes, Charlie. We're staying." Y/n laughed, "Things need to start changing around here and I don't see anyone else doing a god damn thing to make that happen except for you."

"I.." Charlie was speechless, the kindness this fear inspiring woman was directing towards her, having never met her before. What Husk had said made sense, she smiled, "Thank you. I don't know what you did, but that you both so much."

"Anything for my favorite girl." Alastor kissed Y/n softly.

"Oh, get a room." Angel scoffed, rolling his eyes.

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emo-batboy · 6 months

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Things Battinson Totally Did During His First Year of University

Using Unhinged or Odd Things I Also Did as a College Freshman :D

Note: for this list, let’s believe Bruce was living in an (admittedly expensive and swanky) dorm because it is required for first-years, especially those entering at a young age, and Alfred told him he needed to make friends. Also yes I did every single thing on this list. I never claimed to be a role model

Bruce, to his TA: I’m so sorry I’m late to class. I gave blood a few hours ago and almost fainted on the way here, but it won’t happen again.

Signs up for a class called “Age of Dinosaurs” despite it not being required whatsoever and proceeds to work his entire schedule around it

Bruce: Your mental health is super important. If you think you should see the on-campus therapist, go see them. Friend: Fine. I’ll sign up for therapy if you sign up for therapy too. Bruce: Hold on-

Finds a loophole in his housing contract that allows him to get a pet frog, calls him kermit :)

Gets a second frog because Kermit was lonely, names it Constantine after Muppets Most Wanted, then realizes that they’re gay for each other. Wonders if the rainbow-colored rocks he got them triggered anything

Swings dramatically between calling Alfred every single day and ghosting him for weeks, cries when he realizes what he did

“Accidentally” joins the student body council, doesn’t know what he’s doing, gets re-elected anyway

Molds a dragon out of Laffy Taffy instead of doing his work

Bruce: *joins Honors, gets all A’s, takes the max amount of classes, has several minors, overachieves* Also Bruce: I’m a failure.

Breaks into a building after hours to study because NO ONE KNOWS HOW TO SHUT THE FUCK UP AT THE LIBRARY

Bruce: I will not get seasonal depression this year. Bruce: *gets real and seasonal depression that year*

Meticulously schedules his day with a color-coded planner because if he sits down for too long, the thoughts will consume him

Gives a presentation to his rhetoric class on how much he likes Spider-Man: Into the Spiderverse (it is 20 minutes long)

Successfully allocates funding from the student body council to pay for free feminine products in the dorms OUT OF SPITE because someone said it couldn't be done. fuck you, Andrew

Bruce: It is not an all-nighter if I go to sleep before my first class. Friend: It is 7:30am, the sun is in the sky, and your first class is at 12:30. Bruce: But I am getting sleep.

Refuses to go anywhere without his backpack because what if he needs three notebooks at once

Loses over 20 pounds because ✨stress✨ and scares the shit out of Alfred when he comes home for Thanksgiving

Argues with his TA over the one (1) question he got wrong on his Dinosaur exam

Bruce, calling Alfred: Hello father figure. How do I do taxes? Do I have to do them myself? Also, I think I’m having a panic attack.

Joins in on a charity arts-and-crafts project that gives kids books with matching activities made by volunteers, proceeds to commandeer the project because “it’s not color-blind friendly” and rewrites the instructions for everyone

Makes a murder wall

Goes to one (1) sports game and proceeds to leave in the first ten minutes because it’s way too loud wtf is wrong with people

Professor, addressing the lecture hall: I dare you to write an essay about these two sentences. Bruce: *writes an essay about six words, gets a 100, never even read the book*

Crawls into the ceiling for some alone time

Ghosts someone after a date because he’s too scared to tell them he didn’t know it was a date in the first place and now he feels bad

Classmate: How tf does he walk across campus that fast? I go in the same direction he does on my bike, and he’s always ahead of me. Bruce: *is gay sprinting to Dinosaur class*

Refuses to let others use his Favorite Pen TM

Constantly gets mistaken for a Grad Student because he is “so wise and mature” (bestie, that’s the autism)

Alfred: *casually mentions he got into a car accident through text* Bruce: *replies with a meme while hyperventilating because he doesn’t know what to do with that information??!*

Wears a suit to one of his finals

Regularly eats non-organic food for the first time in his life, proceeds to learn about several allergies Alfred forgot to mention he has

Writes “What is a Hot Pocket?” in calligraphy and proceeds to laugh his ass off alone in his dorm because he is so exhausted he’s reached the point of delusion

Locks himself out of his dorm right before class, frantically asks the floor group chat if someone can help, proceeds to tell the nice gay man on the floor who saved him “I love you” because his social skills have hit rock bottom

Makes a little music album display next to his desk for his favorite band (Nirvana) His friends call it a shrine, and they are technically correct

Has a blacklist of people he refuses to interact with because Reasons

Counselor: What do you want to do when you graduate? Bruce: *gestures vaguely*

Refuses to take the bus because there are people in there and he doesn’t like those

Loses one of his frogs, how tf did he do that, they’re fully aquatic, oh fuck, this is probably why they got rid of that loophole a year later because unbeknownst to Bruce, he accidentally started a frog revolution in the dorms, btw he SWEARS he did not mean to do that

Has two trash cans in his room: one for the Good Garbage, and one for the Bad Garbage. Only Bruce knows which is which

Bruce: *writes a creative piece about a ship’s final thoughts as it sinks, bringing its passengers down with it* TA: Absolutely lovely, Bruce, but are you okay?

Goes on Night Walks, keeps himself safe by maintaining a level 12 resting bitch face at all times

Earns the nickname “8th floor cryptid” after pacing the halls at 3am when it’s too cold for Night Walks (honestly tho how tf didn’t he get the nickname earlier?)

Bruce: Do you think a depressed person could do this? Bruce: *has a manic episode*

Okay that's all love you BYE

#cryptid Bruce Wayne #college au #does this count if op is the au #fully nocturnal unhinged madman Bruce but make him like 17 and full of crippling separation anxiety and autism #bruce would rather die than inconvenience a professor but hE KNOWS HIS DINOSAURS #Dino class was my fav one in uni hands down #yes i am insane thank you for asking #originally this was just going to be a normal list but I kept taking from my own experience then said “fuck it I'm the captain now”#one of these was a lie tho...the murder wall was third year :/#battinson #bruce wayne #batman #the batman 2022 #batman 2022 #the batman #battinson needs a hug #dc universe #gotham #autistic bruce wayne

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woniverse-writes · 7 months

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"Moth to a Flame (part 6)"

Bada Lee x Reader

part 5 ⟵ part 6 ⟶ part 7

series masterlist

summary: y/n l/n is the youngest team member of Jam Republic, competing in the second season of Street Woman Fighter. she’s got the sweetest smile and the most vibrant personality, but she also may or may not be the biggest hothead on the show when it comes to defending her teammates. apparently that’s attractive to Bada Lee.

word count: 12k

warnings: swearing, angst, mentions of depression anxiety disorder, mentions of medication, not proofread, nothing i write is a reflection of anyone's true character and is a work of total fiction

It had been almost a week since the interim mission check. Almost a week since 1 million was estimated to place first. A week since Jam Republic began preparing themselves for elimination. A week since Bada and Y/n fought… a week since the two had last spoken.

After the screaming match between the two girls and y/n making her exit with a slam of team Bebe's dressing room door, the younger headed to her own dressing room bawling her eyes out. Her teammates didn't immediately question anything as she stormed in and began to aggressively pack up the few things she had brought back for the day. Audrey made her way over to place a gentle hand on her shoulder

"y/n-" but was immediately swatted away by the still-crying girl. y/n immediately turned around with regret written all over her face

"I'm so sorry- I didn't- I didn't mean to push you away" she sobbed with wide eyes, shaking her head, trying to convince her friend that she didn't mean it, but Audrey already knew that. Audrey knew Y/n.

"hey, hey! It's okay, I know you didn't mean to…" she comforted the girl, bringing her into a hug. This time the younger girl let her friend wrap her in a warm hug. She buried her face in Audrey's chest and bawled her eyes out until she felt too tired to carry on.

"Is something else bothering you lovey?" Kirsten asked gently from somewhere in the corner. Y/n looked up slightly confused, which is when she realized they had no idea what just happened. She began to cry all over again, this time just weeping exhaustedly. I don't even think you could call it crying- more so just her looking sad as tears freely ran down her face. It took her a few minutes before she could even begin to explain, but when she did it wasn’t any easier.

“I got into an argument with Bada… well- it was actually a really bad fight, and- and I totally fucked everything up” Poor girl could barely finish her sentence, as she hiccuped her way through it before she started sobbing and heaving again. Everyone in the room shared looks of shock and confusion, all rushing closer to comfort their youngest. Audrey already had her hand rubbing circles softly on Y/n’s back while Emma sat on the other side rubbing her shoulder, and the oldest three kneeled/sat in front of her.

“I’m so sorry my sweet girl… do you wanna tell us about it?” Kirsten being the wonderful leader and friend she is, did not hesitate one second before openly trying to comfort y/n. The youngest sniffled and hiccuped a bit more while trying to nod.

“Y-yeah, just give me a-a few minutes, p-please” y/n shakily pleaded as her sobs picked back up. After about ten minutes of crying, she was pretty sure there was nothing left in her. Latrice had gotten up to get her water a few minutes ago and now was forcing her to drink it seeing as y/n had been able to calm down.

“Take your time baby, you don’t have to tell us everything- you don’t even have to tell us anything if you don’t want to!” Ling reassured her little bestie and made sure y/n still remembered how safe she was with Jam Republic.

“No, it’s okay- I want you guys to know… I just- I don’t even know where to start or how to retell this…or if I even have the energy to do so right now…” the youngest countered, wanting just to tell her members what happened and get it out of the way so she could begin suppressing it, but her eyes began to droop and her voice got soft, both being immediate signs of her exhaustion. And on any other day, or in any other situation her members would find it quite endearing, but they can’t help but feel crushed at the sight.

“Why don’t we finish packing- after the flight, you’ll have rested a bit, and if you’re feeling up to once we’ve landed you can explain the whole situation to us then. If not, that’s okay too.” Latrice gently spoke up, reminding everyone that they had a flight to leave for in just under an hour and a half. Y/n sniffled and nodded, slowly standing up. Everyone immediately backed away slightly to give her enough space, then watched as she lifelessly moved around the space, finishing packing her things. It sincerely shocked them to see her this way, thinking it was already pretty bad how she was acting before they showed up- and that was when they WEREN’T paying attention to her. Y/n was never good at hiding her feelings unless it was when she was dancing or performing- when she was putting on a show- so to see her so sluggish and empty really scared the five other members of Jam Republic.

“This is going to be a long, hard fucking week…” Emma noted, the others either nodding or tiredly humming in agreement.

________________

“Do you wanna talk about any of it?” Lusher tried her best not to pry- not that she would've had to pry much anyway since she heard the whole thing- but she wanted to hear how Bada was feeling with the aftermath. The leader just sighed deeply once again with her elbows resting on her knees, hunched over as she laid her head in her hands.

Bada felt nauseous. She felt dizzy, like the room was spinning and her ears were ringing. To be completely honest, there was a possibility she would pass out at any moment. None of what had just happened in the last- what? 20 minutes? Was it longer than that? Hell, was it shorter? Bada really had no clue, but none of what had happened in that time felt real to her.

“I don’t know Lusher…” the leader finally mumbled, still hunched over. It was quiet and meek, sounding exhausted. The sub-leader glanced around at her teammates whose faces were all some sort of variation of fear or anxiety, She sighed and crossed her arms before speaking up again

“Well, then how about we get some rest? Maybe afterward you’ll want to talk about it, or maybe you won’t- either way, we’ll be here…” She firmly stated, knowing how tired everyone was and how sleep easily played a role in how well they felt. The leader took a huge breath, her members watching had her shoulders rose and fell. Bada stood up with her head still hanging low. The other girls moved out of the way and watched as the oldest started groggily packing up her things and sat back down on the couch with an empty look when she finished.

“I’m ready when you guys are.”

____________

The first day back in New Zealand was just another segment added to the nightmare that Jam Republic has been living in these last few days. Y/n slept the whole plane ride but woke up with a very minor fever and headache. She just chalked it up to crying so much and getting so world up.

“I promise it’s fine Kirsten, I'm probably just dehydrated-”

“Which still isn’t good! Even if that’s the case, it’s not something to treat lightly, y/n. And since I know you’re lying it’s even more serious to me… I need you to try your best to take care of yourself right now love, we need you.” she dragged the youngest over to some airport market and grabbed two waters and a bottle of juice. Kirsten glanced over her shoulder and saw eyeing up some snacks, but didn’t end up grabbing them. When the younger walked away to look at something else, the leader moved to grab whatever she was looking at. The bright colorful packaging with cute designs made her smile. It was obviously a very y/n-like treat- some sort of sweet gummies with a sour sugar coating. She grabbed two of them and got a savory snack as well, knowing how stubborn her youngest is and how hard on herself she can get.

When all of their luggage had been picked up, all six members of Jam Republic headed back to their hotel. y/n lay with her head against the cool glass of the window, not quite asleep but definitely not mentally present. Everyone was already worried from what had happened the previous day, but it seemed like something different was the issue now. Y/n didn’t only seem depressed anymore- she seemed physically ill.

By the time they arrived at their place, Emma was the first to offer y/n help, which she obviously declined. Yet Emma still took her heavier bags, and y/n didn’t even have the energy to complain. The older carried them up for her as she dragged behind the rest of the group. Audrey, noticing how out of it her best friend was, circled back around to meet y/n in the back of the clump

“You not feeling too good, bunny?” the slightly older brunette questioned with eyes full of concern, and a mouth of whatever candy bar she was munching on. Y/n actually felt herself smile a bit at how endearing her friend was. still, she sighed and nodded, which of course Audrey didn’t believe.

“I really don’t get why you feel like you have to lie about it…” the elder mumbled, kicking a rock while they walked. Great, now I made Audrey upset. y/n frowned and sighed deeply

“It’s just easier to deal with it by myself… it’s exhausting having to explain why I feel the way I do, especially when I don’t even understand it half the time… I wanna tell you guys, I promise I do, but it would drag the team down so much, Audrey…”

“Why do you say that? Because we’d have to take time to discuss what’s wrong? Because we’d have to stop working and focus on you for a second?”

“No Audrey it’s not-”

“Oh so then it’s because we care about you and we’d do anything for you in a heartbeat and you don’t wanna accept that you have people that sincerely love you? You don’t wanna accept that you really are a loveable amazing person who doesn’t deserve to be talked to or treated like that?” Audrey pointed off somewhere in the direction they had just come from, seething as she finished. this was the first time y/n had ever seen the girl as angry as she was, but she couldn’t help but feel confused

“How… how do you know what she said?” y/n tilted her head and awaited her friend’s response with said eyes. Audrey hesitated for a second, feeling like she’d said too much, but sighed and began speaking again

“Lusher told Latrice… well- Latrice and me. I still want to hear everything from you though- I want to know how you’re processing all this and how it felt for you because while she seemed neutral, there could just as easily be things Lusher left out in favor of Bada.” she quickly explained, hoping she hadn’t betrayed the other girl’s trust by getting the story from someone else first.

“Lusher didn’t seem… mad? Wait- how does she know? Did Bada really tell them everything already? I mean I guess that makes sense since-” her mumbled external pondering was cut off

“They heard everything…” the older of the two once again spoke hesitantly, unsure of how the other would react. y/n just glanced over, slightly dazed

“Huh?” Audrey let out a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding, then continued explaining.

“Lusher said their entire team was just around the corner while you guys were arguing, and they could hear everything…” she trailed off at the end, cringing slightly at how bad the entire situation was. Y/n sighed and closed her eyes, feeling another wave of headaches coming

“Great, now all of team Bebe hates me…”

“You don’t know that!” Audrey was simply trying to be her optimistic self, and she couldn’t help but giggle when the slightest bit of normal y/n showed through the depression when she gave her older friend an over-exaggerated deadpan look. The two finally reached their shared room and began unpacking the few things they had. After doing so, the girls all quickly washed up and got changed, then headed to practice.

Practice had gone well for the most part- the first half was reworking practically everything and adding more to make the choreography stand out more. The second half was just drilling everything until it was muscle memory, or at least close to it. Everyone could tell y/n wasn’t feeling well. It didn’t show in her dance, but definitely on her face as she looked miserable every time they finished.

“Why don’t you take a break hon-” Emma tried convincing her with a gentle hand on her shoulder, to which y/n loosely pushed it away

“Em, I’m fine” she whined and moaned, tired of having everyone baby her for the day. The older stood there for a moment before sighing and shaking her head, then walking off. The rest of the practice went the same, and everyone finished wrapping things up around 12:45 am.

Later that evening (or morning rather) after practice had ended and all of Jam Republic had returned to their hotel, y/n started throwing up and her fever increased severely, ending her up in the ER at 2 am with Kirsten and Ling, the others being told to stay back and get some rest.

“After running some tests and talking with her, it just seems like a stress fever, which thankfully means there’s nothing physically wrong- well besides some dehydration, but we have her on an IV for right now- However, whatever is causing the girl so much stress should probably be taken out of her life immediately…” the doctor sternly informed the two oldest members of Jam Republic. They both just looked at each other, not really knowing what to do, seeing as their poor baby’s stress was unavoidable right now unless she were to completely drop from the challenge, and maybe even the entire competition as a whole.

“We’re actually a part of a competition right now… we want her to rest but- we need her to be able to compete with us. Is there anything we can do to speed up the recovery?” Ling spoke before her friend could, the desperate tone already taking over her voice. The doctor sighs and takes off his glasses.

“We could try putting her on an anti-anxiety medication to see if that helps… but it really would be the most ideal to let her rest as much as possible in a low-stress environment.”

“A low-stress environment isn’t really possible right now. And- she’s actually already on something for anxiety and depression, would she even be allowed to do that?” at Kirsten’s question the doctor looks slightly confused

“Has she not been taking the medication recently? Because when we ran the tests to see if there was something in her system, we found no traces of drugs, alcohol, or any substances…” The two dancers once again looked at each other, having a silent conversation.

“Would we be able to see her?” the leader asks softly, to which the doctor nods and leads them to y/n’s room. He opens the door and they find her lying there staring off into space, barely awake.

“Hey honey… is it alright if we come in?” Kirsten asked as softly as she could while still wanting the girl to hear her. Y/n nodded wordlessly and closed her eyes. The two oldest Jam Republic members came and sat near her hospital bed and after a few minutes of conversation with the doctor, it was just the three of them in the room.

“Sweetheart…” the leader brushed some hair out of y/n’s face and watched as her eyes fluttered open

“Did you hear any of that?” She finished and furrowed her brows, unsure of how aware of her surroundings the younger was. Y/n shook her head and matched Kirsten’s expression

“They’re gonna keep you here overnight to make sure you get enough hydration before going back, okay?” She kept brushing away stray hairs and petting them down softly against y/n’s head, lulling her to sleep. There was a slight nod of understanding. Kirsten stood up and y/n quickly (as quickly as she could) reached out to grab her hand

“Please stay… at least one of you… can at least one of you please stay with me” the youngest pleaded in a pitiful whisper that made the older two’s hearts break all over again. This girl really was going to be the death of them all

“Of course honey, we’ll both stay” Ling reaches for her other hand pressing a motherly kiss to the back of it

“I’m sorry… for slowing down the process and now dragging you guys into it… you should be getting good rest right now… not here with me… and here I am being selfish by asking you to stay… shocker…” It seemed like y/n was just mumbling whatever was coming to mind, yet tears were once again freely slipping down. Her eyes closed and wet eyelashes fluttered softly against her cheeks as she drifted off. The two sat there in slight shock, a bit taken aback by what she’d said. Both had wanted to say something and let her know how wrong she was- how while yes they should’ve been resting, it was more important to them that she was okay. After a few minutes of silence, Ling spoke up

“Why didn’t you tell her she can’t practice?”

“Because now is not the time to send her into a nervous breakdown… she’s barely even conscious, it’d probably give her a heart attack if I told her she wasn’t allowed to practice” the leader stressed and hung her head for a moment.

“We’re gonna have to ask her about her medication in the morning…” she sighed rubbing her forehead, causing Ling the groan softly so as not to disrupt the sleeping girl a few inches away

The next day Kirsten woke up first and told a half-asleep Ling she was going to grab breakfast for them. When she returned, it seemed the older had been awake for a bit and that y/n had just been waking up. The leader sat in the chair next to the hospital bed and handed everyone their food. y/n thanked her teammate quietly and they all began eating. After a few brief moments of silence and soft chewing, Kirsten spoke up

“So there are a few things we need to talk about…” she mentioned seriously, glancing up at y/n who was staring intensely at her food, but had stopped chewing for the moment.

“...like what?” the younger questioned and went back to cutting up her food to eat more.

“Like why you haven’t been telling us things… we need to know when you aren’t feeling well y/n or else we can’t help you-” Kirsten explained in a worried motherly tone but was quickly cut off

“I don’t want you to have to help me-” the bedridden girl argued tiredly and sighed. There wasn’t any anger and she didn’t raise her voice in the slightest. She was just exhausted.

“I should be able to take care of myself on my own. I’m an adult… i should start acting like one” y/n spoke everything loud and clear until the last phrase. She had mumbled the statement to herself, sinking back into her pillows and wallowing in pity again, but Ling and Kirsten both heard the self-deprecating callout. Every second that passed, the two eldest grew more and more worried about their youngest’s wellbeing

“The doctors said they didn’t didn’t find any traces of anything in your system, which is good, but that also included your meds… did you forget to take them yesterday?” Ling questioned softly rubbing the back of the girl’s hand. Y/n once again goes completely silent, and avoids eye contact with an extremely guilty expression, which has both older members raising an eyebrow.

“Y/n… what’s up?” Kirsten pushed for a response, causing the younger dancer to sigh

“I haven’t been taking them regularly…” Y/n mumbled, fiddling with the blanket that laid over her lap, still avoiding eye contact.

“You haven’t been taking your meds???” “Y/n are you fucking kidding me? Since when?” both members started began outwardly stressing

“...since the second week of filming-”

“THAT WAS THREE AND A HALF MONTHS AGO-”

“Lingy, let’s not yell at her… I’m sure she had a reason…” Kirsten put a hand on her shoulder and the oldest sighed, they both turned expectantly to y/n, who felt immensely small in front of them for the first time in her entirety of knowing the two dancers.

“...they were making me tired” The youngest curled into her and cringed at the excuse, especially after seeing both women’s faces drop into disbelief.

“Are you serious right now?” Ling questioned with a deadpan expression her arms crossed. Y/n bit her lip and continued to play with her fingers.

“y/n…” Kirsten sighed as she closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose

“I started that new medication and it made it impossible for me to do anything! I was barely making it through those battles and the only thing keeping me going was the excitement and adrenaline-” The youngest tried to defend her reasoning but what cut off

“So you thought it was better to just take nothing? Why didn’t you say something to someone, or even just call your doctor and ask to go back-” This was the first time Kirsten even slightly raised her voice at y/n, and it wasn’t even at that point, but the small girl could feel the disappointment radiating off of her team leader, and she felt everything come crashing again.

“Because I didn’t want to go back to the other medication, it did nothing for me- I wouldn’t have switched in the first place if it worked!” she could feel herself getting worked up again, tears somehow still being able to form. She sighed and laid back in the hospital bed, actually crying this time instead of having tears judge freely fall down her face as she stared blankly.

“I know I shouldn’t have stopped taking them… but I just couldn’t do it. I thought I was doing fine…” y/n mumbled, wiping away tears and sniffling, feeling exhausted again.

“Y/n…” Kirsten started after taking a deep breath and hearing the younger girl’s hum of recognition

“You can’t practice.”

“What…” barely came out as a whisper

“You’re too stressed out right now, and your immune system is down… you aren’t eating or sleeping properly and you’re overworking yourself. You are literally killing yourself slowly… and for what? A stupid competition? Some girl?” she tried to keep her tone level and calm, but Kirsten couldn’t help the rise at the mention of the other team leader, hating her in that brief moment for being one of the reasons her poor baby was feeling this way

“If it’s so stupid Kirsten, then why are we here?” Y/n could feel herself getting frustrated again. This was exactly why no one took her seriously, because her team didn’t even take her seriously, or at least that’s what she thought. Kirsten let out what felt like the twelve hundredth sigh within the last 24 hours.

“They’re discharging you in about 20 minutes… you’re allowed to come to practice but it’s recommended that you don’t… the doctors said it’s best to keep you out of high-stress environments right now-“

“Yeah well, do they even know what’s going on?” so many things were happening in the moment. Y/n felt like she was going to combust and throw up and pass out all at once. She’d never spoken to Kirsten like this- fuck she’d never felt frustrated with Kirsten like this.

“Yes y/n, we told them, and they still think it’s best for you to rest… at least for a little while” The leader’s tone was back to gentle, but it sounded just as tired as the younger girl’s. Y/n didn’t say anything as she sat in disbelief. The three sat in silence for the next few minutes until it was time for y/n to be discharged. She signed off on some documents and then the three were off. They decided to head back to the hotel first before meeting the others at the studio, wanting to change and all that since they’d all spent the night at the hospital in their pajamas.

Y/n decided to stay back and get some more rest, finally giving in to her exhaustion. While they were glad she was taking their advice, Ling and Kirsten once again couldn’t help but feel their hearts hurt for their youngest members. It was always hard seeing each other go through tough times, but it usually never lasted this long or became this severe. It felt like there was nothing they could do to help her.

The youngest jam republic dancer napped and rested for about five hours after she had made her return to their hotel. After waking up she showered and got dressed and decided to head down to the studio. When y/n arrived she waved and greeted everyone politely with a gentle smile, shocking everyone at her appearance.

“I thought you weren’t coming today- you said you were gonna rest.” Kirsten separated herself from the group after telling them to keep practicing

“I did rest- but I couldn’t just sit there and do nothing… even if I don’t feel well I should still come and watch to make sure I’m not missing anything” y/n defended her case to the best of her ability, but Kirsten was always right

“No, if you don’t feel well you need to be resting and taking care of your body AND your brain” the leader retorted, teasingly poking the younger girl’s forehead at the end of her sentence to make a point. Y/n cracked the tiniest smile and even though it was barely there Kirsten was proud of herself for at least being able to do that much.

Y/n sat at the front and watched the practice for the remainder of the time, taking notes on everything she saw whether it be strengths or weaknesses, new ideas, or things she felt needed to be changed entirely. The girl was surprisingly calm and didn’t feel any stress while she was observing. That’s pretty much how the rest of that week’s practices went for Y/n until the last three days before filming. She had been begging Kirsten to allow her to get back to dancing and the leader actually almost caved a few times, desperate to perfect the routine, but still stayed strong and insisted she rested.

____________

It had been a week since the two had spoken. By now all the choreography was finished being created, taught, and perfected. The videos were all shot and edited and it was finally the day where all seven teams would present their work to everyone else and the judges. The day when another two crews would be put up for elimination, and once would go home.

Everyone entered the arena one by one, each team taking their designated seat. It was always mindlessly interesting in these situations, where they’d all gather to watch something but not dance because the fashion choices were truly a show of each dancer’s honest character. Y/n looked as elegant as usual with her red, black, and ivory ensemble. She was doing surprisingly well at the moment, having more of an icy glare rather than the empty eyes of depression that had taken over her the last week or so.

Y/n was doing surprisingly well until she wasn't. Jam Republic is seated by the time team Bebe passes by. y/n feels her heart rate pick up as they approach, all of them glancing at her, some glaring, but their leader acted as if she didn't even see the girl and walked right past them with an icy stare.

“Oh, now that’s just fucking mean” Ling scoffed and stared down the team as they took their seats. Everyone was obviously feeling on edge and very nervous about the results, but y/n still looked quite ill. She had recovered for the most part, but she suddenly felt like throwing up again at the interaction with Bebe. She's still so distraught from the fight with Bada a couple of days before, and now the youngest dancer is scared shitless that both of their teams are going to be up for elimination. As much as she wants to avoid the older girl right now, y/n wouldn't be able to live with herself if Bebe got sent home today…

y/n took a sharp breath, biting her lip trying to push back the sudden sting of tears already feeling the anxiety begin to gnaw away at her. Lusher noticed this right as the team took their seats and spoke over her shoulder to their leader.

"you can't keep ignoring her…" the younger prompted after seeing the way Bada pretended y/n didn't exist when they passed by

"excuse me? Who are you to tell me what I can and can't do?" the leader coldly responded, eyeing the girl up and down. Tatter felt a shiver run down her spine at the interaction, already worried about the integrity of her team considering the rest of their practice time felt like a waste as well. She just sighed and tilted her head out of stress.

After the fight between Bada and Y/n happened, and they both went their separate ways alongside their teams, team Bebe began to fall apart. Bada read through the countless criticisms their routine had gotten and didn’t even know where to start. The stress was eating her alive and she tried her best not to let it show. Normally when things got bad, the Bebe leader would talk about it with Y/n, but that obviously wasn’t a possibility right now, which made everything so much worse.

Practices became unbearable due to how irritable the leader had become, often losing patience easily when things didn’t work out how they were supposed to. Any time they’d go on break Bada would sit and rewatch whatever footage had been taken or reread the notes to see what was going wrong. The other six Bebe members sat off to the side getting water, all observing their oldest with immense concern. She still hadn’t opened up about the situation to them, honestly feeling too embarrassed, even though she knew they heard the entire thing. The guilt of it all was eating away at Bada and she didn’t want to admit that.

“She’s gonna have to share the burden with us at some point” Lusher sighed and pushed herself up off the floor, sauntering over to their crew leader and popping a squat next to her

“You haven’t had any water today…” the sub-leader observed while glancing at the taller girl

“You’re seriously keeping track of whether I do or don’t drink water?” it was supposed to come out in a joking manner, but Bada was serious, the sentence coming out flat and irritated. She didn’t look up from the sheets of paper she was looking over when she responded as well, completely focused on fixing the issue that she couldn’t seem to understand.

“Yeah I am- because you’ve stopped taking care of yourself and you won’t let anyone help you” Lusher snapped back, causing Bada to finally look up and meet her harsh gaze. The younger dancer’s arms were crossed and her brows were furrowed, making her look more like a pouty child than an angry adult, but still Bada could feel the frustration radiating off of her. She sighed and stood up, tall stature looming over Lusher for a second before she stood as well.

“Talk to me… this isn’t gonna work if you take everything on yourself” the shorter once again encouraged her teammate to share her troubles. Bada sighed and the two stared at each other for a moment before Lusher turned her head slightly to call out for Tatter. The blonde came bounding over with a somewhat nervous look on her face

“What’s up?” she asked

“You think you’d be able to run things by yourself for a bit?” Lusher questioned in return, causing Bada to cock her head a little, not entirely fond of the idea. But the way the youngest director confidently responds makes her feel a little better about it. The other responds with a quick ‘great’ and a smile, before dragging Bada out of the practice room and slightly down the hall to one of the small dancer lounges.

“Alright- let’s hear it.” Lusher claps her hands together as she sits on the couch and crosses one leg over the other. The leader lets out an amused scoff and shakes her head. She sits down on the other side of the couch and leans on the armrest.

“I just feel stressed about the routine… we’re taking a big risk with what we’re doing and I can’t help but wonder if it’s the right approach…” Lusher eyed her suspiciously, not fully believing the leader

“So it has nothing to do with Y/n?” she tilted her head and raised an eyebrow, the leader huffing at the question

“Well of course it has plenty to do with Y/n- we didn’t exactly leave off on good terms the last time we talked… it’s just more unnecessary added stress that I need to stop thinking about and move past.” Bada finished her reasoning in a reserved manner, looking away from the girl next to her

“Woah- wait- you think that’s really something you should just ignore??” Lusher was genuinely shocked, not used to her leader being so avoidant. Maybe it was her way of trying to remain relaxed and cool, but the younger dancer could see how terribly the whole situation was affecting her friend, and it definitely wasn’t something to just be left alone.

“Well, I have better things to worry about right now than some childish dancer who clearly can’t control her emotions” the shorter girl scoffed completely unamused

“This is coming from the person who blew up on her just as easily- come on Bada, you’ve never been a hypocrite so don’t start now” She couldn’t help but laugh a little at how childish the leader was being without even realizing it

“So you’re taking her side now?” Bada looked pretty offended, telling the other dancer just how serious she was with her question. Lusher sighed deeply

“I’m not taking anyone’s side, but you both were really shitty to each other… neither of you should’ve said the things you said- but by you saying how immature and emotional she is, you’re pretty much saying it all about yourself because you two had the same energy going on…” she tried to explain calmly, which resulted in another immature response from the leader

“I was simply matching her energy-” Bada pouted as she talked, and Lusher usually would’ve found it cute if it were any other situation

“Right, which by your definition was childish and irrational…” the leader scoffed and looked away, playing with her sleeve. There were a few moments of silence

“You know she’s not doing well either…” the sub-leader spoke up after a while

“Yeah? And how would you know?” the taller girl mumbled, still not looking away from her sleeve, finding the loose string much more interesting than the conversation at this point

“Uhm, I asked her?” she posed it as a question, but it was meant in a sarcastic way, pointing out the obvious answer. Bada quickly snapped her head back up to finally look over at the younger girl

“Oh, so you’ve been talking to Y/n?” Lusher sighed again after seeing her friend’s irritated expression make a return

“Of course I have, she’s our friend- well she’s my friend, I don't know what she is to you” she responded softly and sincerely, yet mumbled the last part, causing the leader to scoff for probably the thirteenth time during this conversation

“C’mon Seoyoung, be serious right now- this isn’t the time for your silly little delusions-” Bada tried to joke slightly and steer her away from the door they were about to open

“No, you be serious Bada. you know damn well she’s more important to you than you’d like to admit. If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were practically in love with her.” the older of the two let out a laugh of disbelief at her teammate’s (accurate) accusation

“In love? With y/n? That hilarious Lusher- really funny actually. I’d love to know where your brain comes up with things like that.” her tone was low and sarcastic, becoming mean and condescending, similar to how it was the last time she spoke with Y/n

“Oh don’t fucking talk to me like that- you’re not gonna treat me like I’m an idiot because I know you better than that. Stop putting your insecurities onto the people who care most about you when they’re trying to help Bada” The room went silent and the older stood straight up in her place, eyes softening at the callout. It was strange to hear Lusher talk to her like that, or even hear her talk like that at all. Sure, the girl teased her a lot, but the two had never gotten into a serious back-and-forth argument like this. Bada thought at that moment that maybe she really could be the problem, seeing as how no one else had been getting into screaming matches like she had recently.

“I just don’t understand why she couldn’t just talk to me…” Bada mumbled sadly burying her head in her arms

“Because she was stressed out and hurt… I mean- if my girlfriend voted to eliminate my group, I would be hurt too-” Lusher tried easing the mood with some light teasing

“Seoyoung…” the older girl dramatically glared at her, but both knew the look held no real malice

“Okay my bad- sorry, but you get the point.” she rushed out in turn

“I do, but she said she understood…” the leader once again drifted off, focus going elsewhere

“Okay, and? She can understand your reason and still be upset about it. Especially since there were other things that were probably weighing down on her… you have to remember, we weren’t the only ones who voted to eliminate Jam Republic… EVERYONE voted for them… and since they had already been facing setbacks from the moment they got to New Zealand she was probably struggling a lot-” Lusher tried to help her understand, but Bada wasn’t having it

“yeah, she was struggling but I was too- you didn’t see me taking it out on her did you?” she tried to retort, but was met with Lusher’s immediate response

“but you did take it out on her! Just not immediately…”

“Lusher you saw everything- you know how hard everything was for me-“ and it was true, lusher did see everything, just like she’s seeing it now. She witnessed one of her best friends completely lose her confidence and doubt all of her abilities while keeping it bottled up. But she was the only one who saw.

“Right, but she didn’t, Bada… How is she supposed to know that if you don’t tell her-”

“She didn’t tell me anything!” it felt like an argument was starting again. The older of the two truly not seeing the whole problem, or at least not recognizing her part in it

“Right, but you pushed her to talk about something she didn’t want to share with you- why? I don’t know- but that’s none of my business! YOU need to figure out what went wrong…” Lusher explained from the objective point of view

“I get that, but how is it fair for her to shut me out and then get bitchy with me, but when I do it in return that’s not okay?”

“Oh my god- Bada, it wasn’t okay for either of you to act that way! But your retaliating after pressuring y/n to talk about something she wasn’t ready to talk about seems like your own fault…you were so fucking mean to her Bada- like- the things you said were awful and absolutely not okay!” The younger of the two allowed her voice to increase, finally getting her point across. Lusher watched as Bada’s face softened again, feeling like she finally got through to her, even just a little bit.

“...I know” The older hung her head and covered her eyes, as Lusher sighed and sat down next to her, leaning her head on Bada’s shoulder.

“I know she treated you badly too, what she said wasn’t okay either- but it wasn’t charged like yours was” Bada scoffed and wiped her tears that she didn’t even realize had fallen

“yeah, and how do you know?” she shifted slightly to glance down at the younger girl, but Lusher just kept staring off into the space ahead of them

“Well- maybe at first it was a little bit… but at some point, she had already given up on fighting and just wanted to get out of there… believe me, Bada, she knows how bad she fucked up too…”

That week had been just as terrible for Team Bebe as it had been for Jam Republic. The last day before filming they ended up making drastic changes to really sell the concept, causing everyone to be exhausted the next day, but luckily they were all able to hold off until after filming had finished.

The team now sat in their designated area, everyone carrying a very negative intimidating intense energy, except Lusher who was just exhausted from still having to play the mediator at this point. After all teams have settled in and the production staff is ready to go, Kang Daniel begins recapping the mission for the audience members and announces the first concept shortly after. Deep n Dap’s video was shown first.

Y/n felt another wave of depression rush over her as she watched the video. It was so well organized and put together, and hearing how loud everyone else was cheering for the green team made her feel nauseous all over again. Yet the young dancer was able to preserve her face and not let her anxiety show, although she didn’t make a single sound or expression for the entire video. Once Deep n Dap’s score was revealed the entire team of Jam Republic began to get nervous seeing how high all three directors had scored.

Shortly after, it was Jam Republic’s turn. Kirsten had been asked about their rehearsal process and was only able to get a few words out before she started tearing up. The leader finally showed her tears, and Y/n hung her head holding her breath knowing she'd cry too if she didn't. When the score for Jam Republic’s leader was shown, y/n felt herself genuinely smile for the first time in three days.

Once the video started and everyone was cheering, y/n felt herself start to lighten up a little- but was also still frustrated at the circumstances- seeing as they all had no faith in Jam Republic and now here they are cheering for them. Witnessing how well the video turned out after all their trials and efforts, and how much everyone loved the individual parts really made Y/n feel so much better. It shocked everyone slightly that y/n wasn't showcased or highlighted at all, but they had no problem pointing her out since she still stood out due to her energy.

“Oh- Y/n didn’t have any highlights?” Redlic commented as the applause died down

“I guess they weren’t able to give her something with all the idea changes…” To be completely honest, Y/n didn’t want a highlight. When the crew began reworking their choreography and it came to the segment that had featured the youngest dancer, Y/n told Latrice to cut it. She was still not allowed to practice at the time and felt it was unfair to the other dancers and her team.

It actually made Bada feel really bad about herself- because, for the first time since meeting the girl, she was glad y/n wasn't in the spotlight. When the leader realized she was thinking this way it made her feel even worse about the situation, knowing how hard this all was on the younger girl, and she did nothing but make that worse for her. She felt conflicted the entire time watching the video- while she was mostly glad she didn’t have to watch Y/n be in the center of attention and was able to avoid accidentally reacting to how pretty she was; Bada was also annoyed that she wasn’t showcasing her talents like she normally did. Knowing how skilled the young dancer was, her presence alone probably would’ve guaranteed Jam Republic a win, so what reason was there for her not to be given her own part?

The other two scores were revealed and the team felt immense pride. However, any relief Y/n was feeling was ripped away just as quickly as it arrived. Daniel announced the 100-point deduction from Kirsten’s score due to them failing to meet the minimum amount of required dancers and y/n felt her stomach drop. The gasp she let out was followed by tears although she managed to push them back- she truly thought she was going to be sick. Y/n had to physically cover her mouth, to avoid letting out a sob or to stop herself from throwing up? She doesn’t even know. This poor girl is literally internally losing her shit and having a mental breakdown over the fact that they could lose to deep n dap.

Moments pass as Daniel re-explains the extra concept points that would be rewarded to the crew that executed the outdoor concept better according to the judges. When it was revealed that Jam Republic won the points Y/n burst into tears and covered her face with both hands as her shoulders shook with sobs.

“Ahhh the baby” Amy whined in sympathy, pouting along with Redy and Lia

“She must’ve been so stressed” Waackxy pouted as she and her teammates nodded

“DON’T CRYYYYYY” Lusher was the only one from Bebe to shout out to her, the others kind of just side-eyeing her

“What? She still deserves comfort… she’s not a bad person, she just did a not good thing… I wouldn’t even call it a bad thing” The sub-leader sternly eyed up her teammates, then her leader, already tired of how they were acting.

"she cries too much" Bada was mumbling to herself but made sure to say it loud enough for the girl in front of her to hear. Lusher whipped around and pursed her lips, her nostrils flaring as she forced herself to take deep breaths

"For someone who got into an argument over immaturity, you're acting really childish." the younger of the two whispered calmly, but everyone could feel the rage simmering in her. She turned back around and her face immediately reverted back to one of pride for the pink team.

“Y/n, you were extremely ill during the second half of the rehearsal process-” Bada tilted her head, eyebrows furrowing in confusion and concern at Daniel’s words. She was sick? Is she okay now?

“How do you feel that impacted your overall performance?” the host questioned after Kirsten and Emma had finished giving their speeches. The youngest member sniffed and wiped her tears as she was handed the microphone, taking a deep breath before speaking

“Well…” she sighed and felt more tears coming

“It was extremely difficult for me personally, obviously… but I couldn’t help but feel like a burden to my team…” the youngest member let out a sob as she tried to finish her sentence. Audrey rubbed her back, comforting her friend.

“So I did my best to attentively take notes and help where I could, while actively reviewing the choreography until I was well enough to perfect it on my own…” Y/n was able to finish more stably after taking a few deep breaths and calming herself down. Daniel nodded and smiled sympathetically before thanking her and moving on.

“Wow… she taught herself everything in her own time and practiced it less than the others… and still looked that good???” NOB cocked her head, genuinely stunned by how dedicated and talented the youngest Jam Republic member was.

After 1 Million and Mannequeen’s videos were both shown and scores were revealed, announcing that 1 Million had taken the win, it was time to move on to the all-gender concept groups. Lady Bounce’s video was shown first, and they scored extremely well, seeing as it was well executed and had a lot of energy. The team had received a generally positive reaction during interim checks and also finished off strong with positive feedback from the judges. Both Bebe's and Y/n’s nerves were beginning to rise.

When it came time for Bebe’s video to play, everyone was interested to see what the team did with the feedback. Since Jam Republic was seemingly able to come back from near-elimination, the other crews were curious to see if Bebe would be able to do the same, or if they would simply take the other team’s place as the least impressive performance.

Right off the bat, Y/n was already distraught. The amount of partner work really threw her for a loop because it wasn’t like that before… and she literally thought she was gonna burst into tears again. She knew it was obviously just acting, but the young dancer still hated it and lowkey felt like it was a punishment, even though it clearly wasn’t.

The entire time, she watched with a heavy heart. It was so good and she couldn’t even tell anyone how proud she was of them, especially Bada, so Y/n just there and silently let tears roll down her face the whole time. Her eyes were on Bada as soon as it ended. She of course didn’t look her way, but y/n continued to clap as hard as she could, knowing if she were to open her mouth and cheer she’d probably let out a sob

“It was just really good… I’m glad it turned out so well” she said wiping her tears and putting on a very fake smile trying her hardest to look happy and not utterly heartbroken, knowing how the camera picked up every reaction. Audrey once again patted her friend’s back and gave her a sympathetic smile. When Bebe’s score was shown everyone was shocked to see that it was lower than Lady Bounce’s- not by a ton, but still lower. Y/n felt her heart rate start to pick up, getting nervous at the thought of Bebe losing the whole challenge and ending in the elimination battle.

Bada started her speech well but only got about two words in before feeling a surge of emotions. She quickly recognized the hard work of her team and spoke on how she would continue to improve and grow as a director, before affirming it all with a nod and handing the microphone back over. Wolf’Lo’s performance followed, and Y/n wasn’t shocked at all when she continued to be unimpressed by the group’s work. However, despite her exhaustion and anxiety, the youngest Jam Republic member was still able to pull out an expressive reaction to the orange team scoring higher than Bebe.

“That’s fucking ridiculous…” Y/n glared at the screen, unable to hide her distaste. Emma snorted at the girl’s reaction

“Good to see you haven’t lost your judgment” the older girl teasingly smirked at her teammate who just smiled lightly and shook her head. Daniel moves on to announcing which of the three teams received the bonus points for executing their concept the best. Ladybounce took the win and y/n began to panic more seeing that Bebe came in last out of the three. When they showed the current rankings based on judges' scores, she was relieved Jam Republic wasn’t at risk for elimination, seeing Bebe in sixth place had her head spinning. She was really hoping the audience votes would keep her safe and boost Bebe in the ranks as well.

The host began announcing the final ranks for the mission, after adding in audience votes and views. 1 Million placed first, not surprising anyone, since their performance was practically flawless. Jam Republic was called for second place and all six of the members felt the tension leave their bodies, even though their safety was guaranteed by their win. Audrey put her arm around y/n and the girl was able to smile a little bit more at their victory, still not completely present in the moment due to how much of a nervous wreck she was for Bada and her team. Now that Y/n knew she was one hundred percent safe, she should’ve felt relieved, but no such feeling came.

While the other members debated who tied with Mannequeen for third between Ladybounce and Bebe, y/n just continued to lay with her head on Audrey’s shoulder, totally zoned out. Ladybounce won and the youngest jam member tensed up while applauding, not moving from her teammate's shoulder. When Bebe is announced as fifth it takes y/n a second to come out of her daze, and when she does she sits straight up and feels tears sting her eyes again. She’s able to hold them back as she applauds, finally feeling genuine relief knowing that the team is safe.

Bada was handed the mic to give her speech, and much like everyone else who had held the microphone at one point today, she began to tear up. Of course, all the natural stress and anxiety of the challenge and competition as a whole had gotten to her, but everything had hit so much harder since she wasn’t able to share any of it with Y/n. The leader felt tears rush faster, no matter how hard she tried to keep them back. After taking a few deep breaths and racing some encouraging pats on the back from her team, Bada was able to speak up

“I’m glad we always scored well in previous missions, but it was a lot of pressure going into this knowing how high the standards were for us…” the tall leader started off

“It’s really all thanks to the members for keeping things going while i wasn’t at my best, so thank you. We’ll continue to keep showing great performances.” Bada finished with a firm not and grateful smile, evoking applause from the other teams. Deep n Dap and Wolf’Lo place in sixth and seventh by default, meaning they are the two teams up for elimination. Daniel announces that both teams are free to go prepare for the battles now and everyone disperses, heading back to their individual hideouts. Jam Republic is one of the last groups to head up to their room, along with Mannequeen, seeing as the two were hyping each other’s videos up.

“Oh shit- I think I left my phone down there…” Y/n sighed in annoyance after feeling around for her phone and not finding it

“Do you want me to come with you to check?” Emma offered, but the younger just shook her head

“No, it’s okay. I’ll meet you guys back in the room” she replied and the others nodded, then they both parted ways. Y/n went back down to the fight zone area, looking around Jam Republic’s seating for her phone, finally finding it next to the bleachers. As she heads back up and begins going down the hall, someone rounds the corner nearly bumping into her.

“Oh- I’m sorry” Y/n meekly whispers at the taller blonde, who at first was glaring down at her, but softened her gaze once she realized how terrible the girl looked. Even under all the stage makeup she had on, Y/n’s eyes were slightly sunken in and didn’t hold the same sparkle they usually did

“It’s fine…” Tatter somewhat dryly responded. Neither of them moved, both simply staring at each other for moments. The older of the two felt the urge to at least create some small talk between them, also harboring some guilty feelings for being cold toward the Jam Republic member.

“How have you been?” she crosses her arms and tries to sound relaxed, not wanting the other girl to feel uncomfortable. Y/n didn’t really know what to say, as she stood stuttering for a few moments, debating whether or not to answer truthfully

“well… I’ve definitely been better” is ultimately what she decides to say. Tatter frowns and her shoulders slump as she sighs

“I’m sorry…” y/n gives her a tight-lipped smile in return, hoping that would be the end, as the whole thing felt incredibly awkward. Yet the older sighed again and continued

“I’m actually sorry for some other things too… I’m sorry for not reaching out to check on you and for being so bitchy. I just saw how distraught Bada was after the whole situation between you two, and I didn’t even stop for a moment to think you could be doing worse… so I’m really sorry y/n” Tatter gently explained with genuine sorrow in her eyes. The other dancer was touched by the apology and a bit taken aback as well

“Thank you Tatter… I really appreciate it. These last few days have been miserable, especially since fighting with Bada… I understand you guys not wanting to talk to me or other things like that because I said some pretty terrible things-” the blonde cut her off with a scoff of a laugh

“Yeah well, you definitely weren’t the only one… I’d even argue that what Bada said was much worse” she strongly retorted, causing the younger girl to sigh and look down

“I know… but I kinda deserved it” Y/n quietly replied feeling her throat begin to close up at the memory

“Not really… I mean sure- you were being an annoying brat, and maybe a tiny bit selfish in the moment, definitely petty-” the other girl calmly argued

“Okay Tatter, was there a point you were trying to make?” the blonde laughed at her friend’s sarcasm, glad to see the slightest smile on the girl’s face, making it known that she wasn’t taking any of it personally

“What I’m trying to say is that even though you were having a rough moment, how Bada dealt with it was absolutely not the right way to go about it. Of course, you were both at fault, but she took it too far.” Tatter finished seriously with a small shake of her head. There was another moment of silence before she began speaking again, shifting the topic slightly

“I bet dealing with this didn’t make it any easier for you to get better, huh?” the older asked in regard to Y/n getting sick and having to continue working on the mission while trying to recover

“No, I actually think it’s part of the reason I got so sick… because I was so stressed out over everything already and that was like- my final straw” The two laughed softly at Y/n’s slightly dramatic statement. Tatter pouts playfully, yet feels genuine heartache for her two friends.

“Things will get better, believe me… she misses you, she’s just so fucking stubborn” Tatter grimaced at the thought of her hard-headed leader and how she’s currently refusing to accept her guilt, causing the tiniest saddest smile to show on y/n’s face.

“I should probably get back to my group now…” the younger softly commented looking down somewhat sadly at her shoes. Tatter hugged her without hesitation and felt Y/n tense up at first, but the short girl quickly relaxed and wrapped her arms around the other in return. They said their goodbyes and right as the blonde watched Y/n turn the corner, she felt a tap on her shoulder and whipped around to see her own teammate.

“what took you so long?” Lusher questioned staring down at the still-empty water bottle the girl said she was going to fill up about 15 minutes ago. Tatter hesitated for a second before deciding it was better to just be honest

“...I was talking to Y/n” she watched as her older teammate’s eyes lit up slightly

“Oh? About?” Lusher curiously and somewhat suspiciously inquired, hoping it would be something good and not about how Tatter decided to beat the shit out of the other girl

“Nothing really, just checking in on her…” the two continued their conversation as they finally began heading back towards their hideout

“Oh, so you’re finally done glaring at her? Good!” the blonde laughed rolling her eyes at the older girl’s sarcasm

“Yeah… I apologized for being bitchy and then we talked a bit about how stressed she was and how it didn’t help when she got sick…” Lusher visibly relaxed at the younger dancer's truthful retelling of the conversation, feeling a bit more at peace knowing she wasn’t alone anymore in the “getting Bada to stop hating Y/n” battle

“I still can’t believe she got so worked up and stressed that she ended up in the hospital” Lusher nonchalantly replied, stopping Tatter in her tracks

“What??” the blonde exasperated, stuck a few steps behind behind the older dancer. Lusher looked around, confused for a moment until she remembered that she was the only one who knew

“Oh yeah, Y/n wound up in the hospital almost as soon as they got back to New Zealand. The doctors said she was so overworked and anxious that it was making her physically ill- that’s why she wasn’t allowed to practice or even be in the rehearsal space at time” Lusher briefly explained the whole situation to her teammate, who stood there with her jaw dropped

“How did you even find this out??” Tatter questioned, still baffled. Lusher’s face went from calm to somewhat guilty for a second

“Well… I had been trying to get in contact with Y/n to see how she was doing, but she wasn’t responding to any of my calls or texts. So I texted Latrice and she explained what was going on, and also made me aware that by texting her, I was lowkey stressing Y/n out more…” she finished with an embarrassed smile, knowing that she and Y/n were okay now and that she didn’t have to feel guilty about it anymore. Tatter scoffed in amusement, shaking her head as they both finally entered their team’s room.

“It took you two long enough!”

____________

After everyone had been given a break while Deep n Dap and Wolf’Lo prepared for their elimination battles, they all gathered in the arena for the show. The bright lights and cheers from the audience amped up the energy and had all the other teams extra hyped.

The first battle was the “hidden battle”, where both teams went head to head as a whole group. Y/n wasn’t expecting more than what she’d usually seen from both groups, but it’s safe to say she was blown away by Deep n Dap’s performance. The song choice and usage of nunchucks really had her getting hyped up, and her normal, energetic self slowly coming back.

The battle to follow was between Chocol and Locker Zee. The young Jam Republic member was fired up, which meant some interesting comments were bound to leave her mouth before passing through her brain

“Bruh it’s so annoying how they’re suddenly so good… like- they were good before but this is AMAZING…” Her entire team side-eyed her, Kirsten and Latrice worried about the show airing what she just said, fearing she could get canceled; the other half trying not to laugh but internally agreed. When the third battle is about to begin and mini walks out and takes off her over shirt showing off her pink jersey, y/n gets excited and points with a smile, since the two are both pink lovers, of course causing her team to smile at her in endearment. When JJ walks out and does the same, y/n starts dying laughing, clapping her hands in amusement along with the rest of her crew. Once the battle starts Mini is the first to dance

“She’s like- actually scary” Y/n jokes around and hides behind Audrey, who laughs and continues to smile just because she’s happy her friend is able to joke around again. The fourth battle was the 5 on 5 and y/n was beginning to get tired of how good both teams were. It felt like things were never going to end, and she was honestly thinking neither team deserved to go home at this point. The fifth battle was another one-on-one with Baby Sleek and Locker Zee, which resulted in another win for Wolf’Lo, bringing the score to 3:2 in favor of Wolf’Lo.

For once, Y/n actually found herself rooting for Deep n Dap, probably because she couldn’t stand Wolf’Lo just as much, or possibly even worse. The sixth battle began, and it was between a duo from each team. Yeni Cho and Haechi came out for the orange team, while JJ and Locker Zee both came out for the green team. Y/n was once again bored by the older team’s presentation, genuinely excited to see what the Deep n Dap duo was about to whip up.

When their music started and everyone recognized it was Michael Jackson, the energy in the room somehow increased even more. JJ and Locker Zee put on a flawless performance, executing each hit and accent perfectly, making sure to connect with each other and the audience.

“BRO WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?????” “I DON’T KNOW BUT I NEED MORE OF IT” Audrey and Y/n are literally losing their shit while watching the performance, absolutely obsessed with the duo, hoping to see more of them in the future. As JJ and Locker Zee took the win, it tied up the score once again, bringing them to the final round, which ended up being between the two leaders. This was a battle Y/n was extremely curious about, already not a fan of Halo’s specific style and also aware of Mina Myoung’s incapability to freestyle. But when the music started, she was pleasantly surprised

“WHAT THE FUCK WHY IS SHE EATING?????” Y/n is so baffled by Mina Myoung’s sudden ability to freestyle efficiently. Y/n stood there, fully back to her normal self (at least for the time being) holding onto her hair with her jaw dropped. To her, the improvement (call it that or desperation) was sickening- it was such a pleasant change that Y/n felt Mina deserved the win just for that alone.

However, the win goes to Halo, giving Wolf’Lo the overall gain of staying in the competition, meaning Deep n Dap was the next team to be eliminated. It’s a bit hard to watch, knowing they truly did try their best. Y/n was doing surprisingly well with not crying- well… until Mina started talking. The leader began her speech and the Jam Republic member was able to avoid tears until Mina brought up how she felt she was able to move on from 1 Million. After that, it was like the floodgates opened up. Don’t ask her why, but Y/n took that shit personally, like a shot straight to the heart. Especially when the Deep n Dap leader mentioned her relationship with Lia Kim, y/n felt her ache for them.

As all teams say their goodbyes to Deep and Dap and said team leaves the studio, filming ends for the day. Everyone is either standing around mingling or heading back to their own hideouts. Jam Republic continues their conversation with Mannequeen when Lusher comes bounding over and wraps her arms around y/n congratulating her, nearly scaring the life out of the small girl. When the younger turns around to see who it is, she once again bursts into tears and clings to her. Lusher feels her heart break even more for her friend yet can’t help but giggle softly at how cute the reaction was. Poor y/n was so scared that Lusher hated her too and it brought her the slightest bit of relief knowing that she didn't

Bada watched from where the rest of team Bebe sat in their designated spot, not even trying to hide her irritation at the situation. She was feeling a mix of annoyance (at both y/n and lusher) and watching the interaction once again sent a wave of guilt rushing through her.

"Ya know you can go congratulate her too…" Tatter spoke up from behind the leader. Bada looked over her shoulder at the blonde and scoffed, but it held no malice- she just sounded exhausted

"And why would I go do that?" the team leader looks over her shoulder with a cold stare and a slight look of disgust at the idea

"well for starters so you can stop getting into arguments with your own teammates-" She did have a point… Bada had been much more irritable since the argument, causing a lot of their practice time to be even more strictly ran

"and two, so you can stop making both her and yourself miserable" Ouch Tatter. Ouch.

“Weren’t you just glaring at her too when we walked in?” Bada rolled her eyes and pouted childishly crossing her arms, causing the other girl to snort and respond

“Yeah, but I talked to her in the hallway… she was in the hospital you know-” Tatter responded as if it were common knowledge or a quick throwaway fact about the girl

“What???” the leader’s eyes widened and she uncrossed her arms leaning forward to make sure she heard the girl correctly

“Yeah… got so worked up and anxious over everything she made herself sick apparently” Tatter shrugged, not having all the proper information. Bada sighed and rolled her eyes

“Seriously? Where‘d you even hear this from?” she pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes, now fully recognizing and admitting to the guilt she’d been suppressing. Tatter hesitated for a second, debating whether or not to mention her small conversation with the girl they were talking about, ultimately deciding not to.

“Lusher” the blonde gave away her source matter-of-factly. Of course, she heard it from Lusher. Bada was beginning to think if she hadn’t made a move on Y/n first, Lusher would’ve easily swooped in and done so. But now that she and Y/n were fighting, did that mean Bada could potentially lose her to the other girl? Lusher was attentive and understanding, closer to Y/n’s age, and had been the first of team Bebe to interact with Y/n… plus she had been in contact with her after the whole incident. The leader tried not to worry about the irrational possibility of her own teammate stealing the girl she was pining after away from her… but it was still a lingering thought nonetheless.

notes: i needed this chapter to be as long as it was just so you guys didn't have to suffer as much in the next chapter🫶

taglist (open) (continued in replies): @tinybada @angel-hyuckie @violetinferno @jesuschrist2006 @1luvkarina @uwulyn @justandloyal2961 @deadgirlwalking3 @squidvoldyvoid @vivzyo @ouhaika @jksjx @ocyeanicc @marianamartinsthings @jxrdxnh @luvjanexx @lorenztired @khjssss @heavenlycloud @loisje123 @starchasermyloves @zhivaxo @grinnwolph @notyourd0lly @stinkbvgs @nermandiiiii-blog @arujee @idontknownemore @thatgayinsomniac @fruitr0llup @cgriffin9797-blog @woooooya @kaaylvst @ssc7514 @astoreea @linda-botello @kpopgirl-97 @erikook @misszoldyc @sammisregrets @jysai @moonsvrse @froufrousnowman @amararosesblog @tikitsune @aestrelle19 @laaaasanielzz @randomhoex @tswisal1 @unpretty-reader @charlesswife @stella222

#moth to a flame #street woman fighter 2 #bada lee #bada lee x reader #street woman fighter x reader #bada x reader

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tumb1rprincess · 3 months

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Thoughts on episodes 7 and 8 of Hazbin Hotel

The fucking "ace in the hole" joke with Alastor, that was funny.

I want Rosie as my therapist. I can't believe a cannibal is one of the sweetest characters on the show.

So angel weapons are the only thing that can kill angels, okay. I knew that was a thing, but I wondering if maybe Carmilla did it some other way. Also, her instantly recognizing Vaggie as an angel made me laugh. Was that supposed to be a nod towards the fans for figuring that out ages ago?

More fucking bops, hell yeah. I think my favorite out of this bunch had to be Charlie and Vaggie's reprise of More Than Anything. So fucking cute!

I legit that Angel Dust was going to be like "So, if this is our last night, how about we fuck?" to Husker, but I guess their relationship is going to be more of a slow burn. That's fine with me.

Alastor and Nifty are so cute, they're fucking weirdo besties.

Sir Pentious my beloved, you were a good boy. I didn't expect him to be the one to go, but I also didn't expect him to end up in Heaven. Does this mean that Heaven will finally see that redemption is possible?

We finally saw Adam's face! It's kind of generic, but maybe that's the point? Also, I just now realized his robes are supposed to look like a sports varsity jacket.

This fight was bloody, man. Angels getting ripped apart, Lute ripping off part of her own body to get out from under that rubble, Adam getting the shit beat out of him.

Lucifer and Charlie finally showing their true demon forms and showing their real power was so satisfying. Glad they showed Adam what for, although Nifty killing him was hilarious.

Dude, Alastor got shook during this fight. He got hurt, he had to run, and whatever deal he's in is suffocating him. I wonder if his favor to ask of Charlie is her figuring out how to free him.

So Lilith is in Heaven. This raises so many questions. Why is she there? What is she planning? Does she have Alastor on a leash or does somebody else?

This also makes me question where the series will go from here. Heaven probably won't be doing exterminations anymore since they don't want to lose anymore angels. Will the main conflict next season be getting Heaven to recognize that redeeming sinners is possible? Will Heaven even let Charlie and the others know that Sir Pentious got there? Will Lilith be the big bad? What's Lute's next move now that she's in charge of the exterminators?

I guess me theorizing so much about season 2 shows how much I loved season 1. I'm so glad I got into this series, and this show has gone from a little Youtube pilot to a full fledged show with one season done another on the way. The only thing I hope is that season 2 will have more than eight episodes, I want more time with these characters and to see their development more. I want to see what happens next. God, what a show.

#spoilers #alastor #rosie #carmilla carmine #vaggie #lucifer #charlie morningstar #adam #lute #lilith #sir pentious #nifty #angel dust #husk #hazbin hotel

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steviesbicrisis · 10 months

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Steve Harrington (Taylor's version)

Tracklist: 1. A Place in this world 2. Fifteen 3. Enchanted 4. State Of Grace 5. I Know Places 6. Out Of The Woods 7. Delicate 8. The Archer 9. It's Nice To Have A Friend 10. This Is Me Trying 11. The 1 12. Peace 13. Tis The Damn Season 14. You're On Your Own Kid

I am so happy with how this project turned out. I made this with my official Taylor Expert™️ and bestie @hairstevington, so if you liked this you better go give her some love as well!! Let me know which Steve Era is your favorite!

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 6 months

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When The World Is Crashing Down [Chapter 9: We’re Friends When You’re On Your Knees]

Series summary: Your family is House Celtigar, one of Rhaenyra’s wealthiest allies. In the aftermath of Rook’s Rest, Aemond unknowingly conscripts you to save his brother’s life. Now you are in the liar of the enemy, but your loyalties are quickly shifting…

Chapter warnings: Y'all, you are not ready for this one. Language, warfare, violence, serious injury, alcoholism/addiction, sexual content (18+), murder, Aemond "there are other Targaryens" Targaryen having feelings again (good ones?? not good ones?? both?? who knows bestie, not me!), an unexpected family reunion, must be the season of the witch... 👀

Series title is a lyrics from: "7 Minutes In Heaven" by Fall Out Boy.

Chapter title is a lyric from: "Our Lawyer Made Us Change the Name of This Song So We Wouldn’t Get Sued" by Fall Out Boy.

Word count: 8.4k.

Link to chapter list: HERE.

Taglist (more in comments): @tinykryptonitewerewolf @lauraneedstochill @not-a-glad-gladiator @daenysx @babyblue711 @arcielee @at-a-rax-ia @bhanclegane @jvpit3rs @padfooteyes @marvelescvpe @travelingmypassion @darkenchantress @yeahright0h @poohxlove @trifoliumviridi @bloodyflowerrr @fan-goddess @devynsficrecs @flowerpotmage @thelittleswanao3 @seabasscevans @hiraethrhapsody @libroparaiso @echos-muses @st-eve-barnes @chattylurker @lm-txles @vagharnaur @moonlightfoxx @storiumemporium @insabecs @heliosscribbles @beautifulsweetschaos @namelesslosers @partnerincrime0 @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @yawneneytiri @marbles-posts @imsolence @maidmerrymint @backyardfolklore @nimaharchive @anxiousdaemon @under-the-aspen-tree @amiraisgoingthruit @dd122004dd @randomdragonfires @jetblack4real @joliettes

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged! 🥰💜

You watch her from the shadows of the dungeons, rusted iron, phantom echoes of falling water, chilling drafts that come from nowhere and everywhere. She has not yet noticed you. She is beautiful, regal, arrogant, even as she sits gnawing on crusts of bread and the gristle of chicken bones, scraps that Lord Larys throws to her like she’s a pig nosing its way through a trough, an animal that is clever and yet condemned. And if she is livestock, then what are you? A creature of darkness, of nightfall, lethal and treacherous, a wolf or a bat or a spider. You step forward and into a ray of light that cuts across the stones like the path of a comet.

Baela gasps and drops the tibia she’d been working on, cracking it in two, sucking out the dead-blood marrow. Her wide-set, almond-shaped eyes catch on you. She is not afraid; you have never known Daemon Targaryen’s eldest daughter to be afraid of anything. She is fascinated.

“I’m sorry,” she says, crawling across the floor of her cell. She grips the metal bars and peers out at you, kneeling there like she’s praying. You suspect Baela has never prayed to anyone or anything. “I didn’t mean to almost burn you. I didn’t realize you were standing on the steps with him until after I’d given Moondancer the order. It all happened so quickly.”

You cannot appear to be angry. You have no reason to be angry if you are Aegon’s captive. “I take no offense. I wasn’t harmed.”

“No one had any idea the Usurper was here,” Baela says. Still her eyes are bright, entranced. “We believed Dragonstone to be vacant.”

Good. You give her a dismal smirk. “No. Not so vacant after all.”

“Are you with child yet?”

A bolt shoots down your spine like cold lightning. “What?”

“That’s what he’s trying to do, isn’t it?” Baela says. “He wants an heir from you. His wife is dead, his sons are dead. He couldn’t get his claws on me or Rhaena. But you can give him a Valyrian-blooded prince.”

Aegon has never mentioned having children with you. You don’t know if this means he doesn’t want them, or if he does not wish to place demands upon you, or if he is indifferent, or if he believes it to be impossible. “I have nothing to show for his efforts.”

“Has it been unspeakably awful?” And if Baela seeks to console, this is secondary to her personal interest; she is curious, she is absorbed. Her fingers close more tightly around the iron bars. “He’s a drunk, a degenerate. He’s vile. He’s deformed. Has he tortured you? Has he violated you in a hundred different ways? Does he tie you down, does he strike you, does he cut and bruise you?”

And this is the Blacks’ story, one they could never begin to suspect might be fiction: that you are a martyr, that Aegon is a monster. In place of an answer, you give Baela the treasures you have brought her. You pass them through the gaps between the bars: a bottle of ink, parchment, a quill with a point like a blade.

Baela takes these objects, amazed. “You can help me send a letter back to Harrenhal?”

“I don’t know if I will be able to get to the rookery. But I’ll try.”

“The Usurper allows you this much free rein?”

He trusts me. He loves me. He’s bedbound and in agony. “He’s rather distracted at the moment.”

“He’s dying, hopefully,” Baela says. She has already begun to write. And there’s a reptilian sort of coldness that is snaking deeper into you, constricting around your bones, gliding through the blood-slick chambers of your heart, too much a part of you to ever rip out. But now Baela’s face softens. She looks up dolefully. “Moondancer, she’s…she’s gone, isn’t she?”

You bow your head as if this is something tragic. “She did not survive Sunfyre’s attack.”

“Fucking beasts,” she seethes, resuming her writing. “When my father learns of this, he and Caraxes will come to rescue us. And he will burn the Usurper alive.” She finishes her letter, rolls up the parchment, and hands it back to you.

“How will Daemon know that you authored this and under no duress?”

“My signature,” Baela says, grinning. “I end all of my correspondence to him with Your ever-obedient daughter. It is a joke between us. If it was absent, he would notice. His suspicions would be aroused. That is how I would signal if I was ever forced to write to him against my will.”

There is dark satisfaction like a spell shimmering in your arteries, nerves, the void-black pupils of your eyes. You return her smile. “Perfect.”

“Don’t fear,” Baela tells you, and reaches through the rusted iron bars to clasp your hand. You fight the reflex to tear away from her, this woman who certainly maimed Aegon and might have killed him. You find yourself studying her, measuring her height and weight, calculating how much milk of the poppy it would take to end her life. “Cregan Stark is south of the Neck now. He will move heaven and earth to possess you, everyone knows that. Soon we will have Northmen marching through the Riverlands with Caraxes and Sheepstealer safeguarding them from above. And after the Riverlands they will be in the Reach, and then finally King’s Landing to stabilize the capital. The Usurper and Sunfyre cannot fight. Daeron is scarcely more than a boy. The Betrayers are avaricious, overconfident drunks. The Greens will be vanquished before winter.”

“And what about Vhagar?”

“Together, Caraxes and Sheepstealer can bring her down.” But there is doubt in Baela’s voice, yes, a vacillation that is rarely heard from her.

“I hope so,” you reply, one of countless lies.

You take Baela’s letter to the rookery, open it, examine it carefully for the subtleties of her handwriting: slopes and dots and lines. Then you get a fresh piece of parchment and painstakingly draft a very different message. Not a plea for help, but an assurance that all is well; not a summons to Dragonstone, but a confirmation that the castle was found to be unoccupied and is now held firmly by Baela and Moondancer.

And you end the letter before tying it to a leg of the raven trained to fly to Harrenhal:

Your ever-obedient daughter, Baela Targaryen

~~~~~~~~~~

“Please eat something, Your Grace. I beg you.” Lord Larys Strong’s face is creased with servile, attentive worry. On the plate before you is fresh, warm bread and a dish of salted butter. In your bowl is a crab soup thick with vegetables, the broth tomato-based and red like Autumn’s hair, like blood.

“I can’t.”

“Would you like me to bring you something else? I could have the chefs prepare roast chicken, or duck, or boar…”

“No.” You push the bowl of soup away. You and Larys are alone in the Great Hall, seated at the high table which presides over a silent, vacuous chamber. The room was built to resemble a dragon lying on its belly; the entranceway is its mouth, two massive doors edged with stone teeth. There are dragons everywhere, these talismans of Aegon’s house, these creatures that are monsters to some and saviors to others.

Larys studies you closely. His voice is tender. “Your Grace, please. Can I do anything for you?”

You consider him, an enigma that is useful and subtle and dogged in his loyalty. “What is it that binds you so faithfully to Alicent and her children, Lord Larys? House Strong was so favored by Rhaenyra. Her heirs were your blood, no matter how much she tried to deny it. You could have risen high in the Black Council. Make no mistake, I am very thankful for your service to the Greens. I am glad to count you among the greatest of our fortunes. But what inspired you to turn your coat?”

Larys smiles at you. He has eyes like rain, the wavy abundant brown hair of his spurned family. His hands rest on the handle of his cane. “Your eldest brother is an acclaimed swordsman.”

“Yes,” you agree, caught off-guard.

“And so was mine,” Larys says. “House Strong, is it any wonder what we valued most? My father loved Harwin. He was so fiercely proud of him. He was interested in him, he understood him. They would whisper to each other all through feasts, all through tourneys, conspiring, chortling, enmeshed in this synergy that left no air for anyone else to breathe.”

“And your father never understood you.” Just like Bartimos Celtigar overlooks Everett, a son gifted with books and quills instead of horses and swords. “Never even tried to.”

“It is a terrible thing to be in the midst of your family and yet feel alone.”

“It is,” you say, remembering the Blacks’ festivities in King’s Landing.

“Now Lyonel and Harwin Strong whisper to no one,” Larys says, his smile widening into a dark, victorious grin. “And I am the Master of Whisperers.”

You remember the words that Otto Hightower spoke to you as he waited for his execution in the dungeons of the Red Keep: These dark, contagious facets of life change us all. They ruins us. Time, heartache, violence. You become capable of inconceivable things. You would scheme and deceive. You would murder. “Do you ever regret it?” you ask Larys softly. Becoming a sinner, a killer, a kinslayer.

“Never,” he replies. “Dowager Queen Alicent was the first person to ever truly listen to me. To make me feel worth something. Worth anything. To advance her interests in every way possible…that cannot be an injustice. It is the cleanest kind of loyalty. And I have no doubt my sacrifices will be repaid. If the Greens triumph, that is. When this war is over, Alicent’s son must sit the Iron Throne.”

“You mean Aegon.”

“Yes, of course.” But something mournful passes over Larys’ face like a shadow; he peers down at his hands to hide this from you.

He doubts Aegon will live. He foresees Aemond or Daeron inheriting the throne instead. You stand from the table, your chair squealing shrilly against the stone floor. “We should bring the king his supper,” you tell Larys. “He needs his strength.”

Aegon does not like you to be there when the maesters prod at him, scrub his wounds, rebandage his shattered legs. You were once his healer, yes, but now he believes you to be his wife. He does not want to be your patient. He does not want you to see him as a wounded man writhing in bed, as someone helpless, pathetic, weak, doomed.

The maesters are just finishing when you arrive with a tray of buttered bread and fresh soup, steam rising from the bowl of red like entrails that litter the earth once a battle has ended. The maesters are gathering up bloody strips of linen to be burned. Aegon is sobbing; his silver hair hangs in chaotic waves, both hands cover his face.

Your voice is hushed and heartbroken. “Aegon…”

“No, I’m okay,” he says, sniffling, mopping the tears from his cheeks with his bare palms. Then he reaches out to you. “Come here, come here, come here.”

You go to him, sliding the tray onto his bedside table until it clinks against the glass bottles there: rose oil, red wine, milk of the poppy. You climb onto the bed and Aegon’s arms circle around your waist, pulling you in closer as he buries his face in the warmth of your chest, your throat, covering you in hurried, imprecise kisses. Dimly, you wonder what he tastes when he breathes you in; you wonder what colors bloom in the sunless passages of his lungs.

“I missed you,” he murmurs. You can feel the dampness of his tears on your bare skin, the roughness of his scars.

“I was only gone for a few hours.”

“Too long,” he says. “Far too long. How’s Sunfyre?”

“He’s down on the beach, Your Grace,” Larys answers from the doorway where he has materialized like stars at dusk.

“Is he eating? Ambulatory? Wading in the water?”

“He’s…” Lord Larys hesitates. “He seems to be in a great deal of discomfort.” And yes, you know this to be true: Sunfyre the Golden’s wings hang in shreds, his wounds are inflamed with infection, and there is something wrong with him inside as well, a wheezing when he inhales, blood that seeps from his nostrils and his jaws. There’s nothing anybody can do for him. No one can touch him but Aegon, and Aegon can’t leave his bed.

Aegon says to Larys, low and sinister: “I want Baela dead. I want her burned.”

“She is far more valuable to you alive, Your Grace.”

“I am the king and I wish her to die.”

“Corlys Velaryon is her grandsire,” Larys implores. “If he discovers you executed Baela, he may recommit himself to Rhaenyra’s side. He may launch his own rebellion even after Rhaenyra is defeated. If you wish to win and keep the Iron Throne, I advise you to spare her.”

Aegon sighs and glares out the window that overlooks the Narrow Sea, his arms still linked around your waist. You begin to weave his braid for him. “Aegon,” you say gently. “We’ve brought you supper. Please eat it.”

“I’m afraid I’m too nauseated by my own inadequacy. Perhaps later.”

“You want to be well again. And you will be. But you have to eat.”

“I really don’t think I can.”

“Aegon, please.”

“Well…” He glances over at the bowl of soup and then gives you a mischievous smirk. “I suppose nothing tastes better than a crab, does it? Particularly when it is served in bed.”

“Or on the floor of a library.” You smile and kiss him: his pale face, his trembling lips. You finish his tiny braid like a silver chain and tuck it behind his ear. Then you pour him a cup of milk of the poppy, just one pearl-white splash, just enough to sand the serrated edges off his anguish.

“No.” He stops you, a hand on your wrist. “I don’t want to be useless again. I don’t want to be swimming in dreams. I want to be here with you.”

You shake your head. There are tears stinging in your eyes. “But you’re in pain.”

He grins, brushing your hair back from your face. “I’ve been in pain my whole life, Angel.”

And he manages to force down half the soup and two brimming goblets of wine before he sinks beneath the sea of his consciousness, while outside waves crack open against the rocks and Sunfyre leaks viscous threads the color of crimson, roses, flames.

~~~~~~~~~~

“You sent that raven a week ago,” Baela tells you when you bring her your offering, your clandestine kindness: apple cake, black tea. “More than enough time has passed for it to be received at Harrenhal and acted upon.”

You fill a porcelain cup with tea from the kettle and give it to her through the iron bars of her cell. “Perhaps the raven went astray.”

Baela ponders this as she alternates between unladylike chomps on a wedge of apple cake and slurps from the cup. “Maybe my father has been away from the castle. Maybe he’s out on the battlefield with the Stark men.”

Or maybe he believes you and Moondancer to be perfectly well and presiding unopposed over Dragonstone, and therefore not in need of his attention. What a welcome delusion to live under. I’m sure he’d rather be fucking Nettles anyway. You take the empty cup when Baela has drained it and refill it with tea. Baela accepts the nearly overflowing cup gratefully. She has had nothing to drink since she was taken captive except muddy rainwater that pools in one corner of each cell, guided by stone gutters that run along the outside of the castle. The tea is cloudy with cream and laced with sugar; still, her nose wrinkles a bit when she swallows it down.

“Bitter,” she notes distractedly.

“It’s made from leaves grown here on Dragonstone. Formidable, but not very sweet.”

Baela cackles; it echoes through the dungeon. This is the same voice that commanded Moondancer to brutalize Sunfyre, to send Aegon plummeting to the sand. Are her eyes already losing their viperish sharpness, is her heartbeat slowing? “Just like me!” She finishes her cup of tea and eagerly holds it out to you through the bars. You pour it full of the earth-colored brew once again.

You ask her as she licks apple cake crumbs from her fingers: “Why is Cregan Stark so determined to wed me?”

“He wants you. He considers you worthy of him.”

“But he doesn’t understand me. He doesn’t really know who I am.”

Baela shrugs indifferently. “None of us love anyone because of who they are. We love them because of who they make us believe we are.” She sips her tea and blinks groggily. “In any case, he will be your honorable savior, and you will be his illustrious damsel, and when the traitor dragons are dead he will spirit you away to Winterfell to bear his wolf pups. It’s not so bad a fate, I think. Not for someone like you. You aren’t ill-suited to matrimony. You are docile enough. A caretaker, a healer. You seem like the sort of woman who would be content with just one man.”

Yes. If he was Aegon. As you watch her kneeling on the stone floor of her cell, Baela sways and almost nods off, seemingly unaware that she is doing it.

“Burning might be too swift a death for the Usurper,” Baela says, smiling dazedly. “Cregan should have some of the Boltons flay him. They can all take turns wearing his hideous scars.”

“Yes. Skins shed, skins regrown, some of us change them over and over again.”

Baela stares at you inanely. She is beyond comprehension. Then she collapses to the stone floor, the porcelain tea cup spilling from her grasp and breaking into jagged white shards.

You take the key to the cell off the hook out in the corridor and unlock the door of iron bars. You step inside, still holding the tea kettle in one hand. You set the kettle down and drag Baela until she is propped upright against a wall. Her pulse is slow, but still present; she moans feebly as you position her. But it is all for a good cause; you must ensure she drinks the rest of the tea, the witches’ brew of leaves and cream and sugar and a fatal dose of milk of the poppy. Outside you hear a deep, prehistoric rumble as Vhagar flies over Dragonstone and scouts for a landing spot large enough to host her. Aemond is back again.

You angle the spout of the tea kettle between Baela’s paling lips and ply her with a small amount, less than a mouthful, then you rub her throat in just the right place to trigger her reflex to swallow. You know this trick well; you have used it on grievously wounded soldiers. You used it on Aegon after he was burned. You repeat the steps until the kettle is empty. Then you lay Baela flat again and watch her chest rise and fall slower, slower, slower until it stops. But still, you leave nothing to chance. You nick Baela’s wrist with a paring knife from the castle kitchens, until now tucked away in a pocket of your gown, emerald green silk to match the side of this war that you are pledged to. Her blood, unpropelled by the rhythm of a heart, dribbles sluggishly rather than spurts. She’s gone; she’s with her mother and Luke and Jace and the young sickly Viserys and Rhaenys, Otto and Helaena and Jaehaerys and Maelor and Autumn’s silver-haired son that she never had the chance to name. You wonder if the struggle goes on in the afterlife. Perhaps presently Otto and Baela are scratching and yowling at each other in a castle made of clouds.

Upstairs, Aemond is already in Aegon’s bedchamber. They are speaking in whispers when you enter, and you catch only pieces of the exchange: capital, Cregan, marriage, Daemon, crown. Larys stands in the corner of the room, his hands laced atop the handle of his cane. He gives you a reverent bow in greeting. He might not be so pleased to see you once he learns what you’ve done.

Aegon stops talking abruptly when he spots you and gestures for Aemond to go quiet as well, a commanding sweep of his hand. Aemond follows his brother’s gaze to the doorway. His lone blue eye climbs up and down you like a man on the rungs of a ladder. His hair is in one thick braid from his flight; stray white-blond strands that have been ripped free hang in disarray around his stoic, unreadable face. Aemond does not bow to you and never will. He only leers, a silver-haired wolf, a hawk with unhollow bones.

“Hello, Angel,” Aegon says, beaming or at least attempting to. He is frail and pallid and too thin and dripping sweat. There are indigo rings around his eyes like bruises. His legs are swollen, grotesque mountain ranges beneath the blankets. You rush to him and sit on the edge of the bed, feeling his forehead for fever and combing your fingers fondly through his hair.

Aemond sighs irritably. “Anyway, I’d like to torture her.”

“My prince…” Larys urges.

Aegon holds up a palm. “Now now, Lord Larys, let’s hear his proposal. Exactly how much do you intend to torture Baela?”

“Quite a bit,” Aemond says.

“To death?” Aegon asks hopefully.

“I don’t see why not.”

“My prince!” Larys says again. “Please, consider the possible ramifications, she is a prisoner of substantial strategic value, if your mother was here she would caution—”

“I’m afraid that Baela can no longer be interrogated,” you confess, and they all turn to you. There is a long, laden pause.

“And why is that?” Aemond says.

“Because she is dead of poisoning.”

“What?!”

“In her cell. Her body is there now. Feed her to Vhagar or Sunfyre, throw her in the sea, do whatever you wish with her. But she has paid her debt for the harm she inflicted upon us.”

Slowly, a grin splits across Aemond’s face. Larys shakes off his shock and resigns himself to it. But Aegon is neither proud nor reconciled. “You did that?” he says softly.

“You wanted Baela dead.”

“Yes, I did. But you don’t take life,” Aegon says, remembering what you once told him in King’s Landing. His oceanic eyes are stunned and fearful; not because Baela is was murdered, but because you were the one to end her. Because until now he was still able to tell himself that you could somehow escape this war unscarred, unruined. “You preserve it.”

“I preserve yours,” you reply. And when you offer him milk of the poppy—with no fear, for you know precisely how much it takes to kill a man—Aegon refuses it again, taking his suffering pure and sharp like the glass of a mirror.

~~~~~~~~~~

“What will happen to him?” Aemond asks you. You’re sitting on the stone staircase together under overcast midday skies, sipping wine and watching Sunfyre amble lethargically up and down the beach. You aren’t sure what’s made him so restless: his own dire injuries, Aegon in torment within the castle walls, something else entirely, some premonition that only beasts of ancient magic know. At last, Sunfyre seems to have exhausted himself and crumples onto the sand.

“I think Aegon will walk again. Eventually.”

“But he won’t be able to fight.”

You shake your head. “No.”

“Fuck,” Aemond hisses caustically, glowering out over the ocean.

You look at Aemond, needing to ask but terrified of the answer. “Can you win without him?”

“Can we win, you mean?” He smiles faintly, then sobers again. “I think so. Just before I left the Riverlands to come here, I received reports that Daemon had sent his lowborn little child bride away with Sheepstealer. He is trying to protect her from Rhaenyra’s assassins. My bitch of a half-sister has thus done us a remarkable favor. If Daemon is alone, I have no doubt that Vhagar can slay Caraxes. They say Daemon has fled Harrenhal. He’s hiding from me. I will find him, and I will burn him. I will end this war.”

“You need to be with Criston when his army faces the Northmen.”

“Of course,” Aemond says; but something in his face worries you.

There is a high-pitched shriek overhead, a glimmering flash of vivid gemstone blue. You startle and Aemond’s hand juts out, grabs you by the forearm, yanks you closer to him; then he relaxes when he recognizes who it is.

Aemond sighs loudly. “Why the fuck can’t he stay where he’s supposed to be?!” Then he stands, helps you to your feet while he’s at it, and heads down to the shoreline to meet Daeron and Tessarion.

The Blue Queen circles the beach several times, Daeron peering down as if struggling to understand something, his long white-blond hair whipping in the wind. At last Tessarion lands, her claws sinking into the wet sand, ocean froth bubbling around legs. Her long, swanlike neck stretches out towards Sunfyre, soft inquisitive squeals emanating from her jaws. Daeron leaps down from the saddle and strides to where Sunfyre is sprawled helplessly on the beach.

Alicent’s youngest child is clad in mint green—including a cape that billows out behind him in the seaside breeze—and glinting gold accents everywhere, buckles on his boots and the clasp of his cape and even a freckling of studs in his ears. He props both hands on his waist as he scrutinizes the crippled dragon. “Well, you’re not Moondancer.”

“He ripped Moondancer’s throat out,” Aemond says. “And then he ate her.”

Daeron whistles and gazes at Sunfyre admiringly. “I heard that Baela and Moondancer had taken possession of Dragonstone. I came to murder them. But now I see my services are unnecessary.”

“Baela is dead.” Then Aemond adds, nodding to you: “Here is the executioner.”

Daeron considers you, then laughs and assails you with a spirited embrace that nearly knocks you off your feet. “Welcome to the family, Lady Celtigar.”

“She’s the queen now.”

“Is she?” Daeron asks, eyebrows raised. “I was not under the impression that our brother was in any particular hurry to marry again.”

“His priorities seem to have shifted,” Aemond says.

“Can I see him?” Daeron looks around the beach and then up at the castle, shielding his eyes from the greyscale daylight. “Is he not outside with you? What is he doing in there? Not reciting prayers and composing poetry, I’d imagine.”

In Aegon’s bedchamber, Daeron cannot conceal his shock, his dismay; he gawks at the king like he is a three-legged dog, a blinded orphan. He stands thunderstruck at the end of the bed, taking in the vague yet horrifying outlines of Aegon’s shattered legs, the gauntness of his face, the fact that he is incapable of playing any meaningful role in the war for the foreseeable future. You sit on the bed beside Aegon, Aemond lurks by a window, Larys observes intently from a respectful distance, his eyes following every word as they flit through the air.

When Daeron recovers somewhat, he says: “I need to know what to do about Hammer and Ulf.”

“Why?” Aegon replies wearily. “What’s wrong with them?”

“Apparently, Mother once offered them the seats of House Costayne and House Merryweather as compensation for their efforts on behalf of the Greens, and they accepted. But now that’s suddenly not good enough. They’re asking me for the Riverlands and the Vale.”

Aegon turns to Aemond. “Is there anything left of the Riverlands these days? Should we find a new name for them? The Smolderlands, perhaps? The Everything-Is-Dead-Here-Now-Lands?”

“This is serious,” Aemond says flatly.

“I’m entirely serious.”

“Should I just tell them they can have whatever they want?” Daeron asks. “And then when the war is over and we’ve won…you know…pretend not to remember that conversation?”

“They can’t be given territory of any importance,” Aemond says. “They aren’t nobility.”

Daeron amends: “More relevantly, they are devoid of accountability and self-discipline. They drink all day and whore all night, and…oh, I mean no offense, Your Grace.”

“Fine,” Aegon says, preoccupied. There are fat beads of sweat on his bloodless face, glistening misery in his eyes. He gazes sorrowfully down at his left hand where he once wore his golden dragon ring before he lost it the same day he destroyed his legs. You pour him a cup of red wine and he drains it in seconds. You fill another.

“My point is that Hammer and Ulf are increasingly unreliable. I am only halfway convinced they could even show up for a battle before it was over. And yet we need them. Especially if Sunfyre cannot fight.”

“Agree to their requests,” Aemond says. “And if they survive the war, we will deal with them then. Rhaenyra’s faction is the greater enemy. We cannot risk the Dragonseeds racing back into her arms.”

“Lord Larys?” Aegon prompts dimly

“I could not agree more, Your Grace.”

“And on the subject of Rhaenyra,” Daeron continues. “Tessarion and I can take King’s Landing. Syrax is the only dragon in the city now, and Rhaenyra has never ridden her into combat.”

“No,” Aegon says. “We cannot risk setting the capital ablaze and turning the people against us. And Mother is there. Everett is there.”

“Everett?” Daeron looks around, baffled. “Who the fuck is Everett?”

“Angel’s brother. Not the firstborn son. The other one.” And as Aegon explains this, his chest is heaving and his eyes are glazed over. He tries to reposition himself in bed and has to bite down on his lower lip to keep from crying out, hard enough to draw blood.

“Is there anything else?” you ask Daeron and Aemond, a warning in your face. He needs rest. He needs to sleep, to heal.

“No,” Aemond says. He paces towards the door and snatches Daeron’s cape as he passes by him, hauling him out into the hallway. You follow after them.

As soon as he is out of earshot of Aegon’s room, Daeron tells Aemond: “He doesn’t look good.”

“He’ll be fine.”

“Aemond, I think you should prepare to—”

“He’ll be fine!” Aemond snaps.

“You don’t think I’m losing something too?” Daeron demands furiously. “You don’t think I want him to be well again? Of course I want that. But if wishing people to live made it possible, the world would be a very different place.”

“You are needed in the Reach,” Aemond says, and that’s all.

Daeron glares up at him, incredulous, defiant. “This will be over soon. I hope you’re ready for what comes next.”

Then he storms out of the castle, soars down the long stone staircase, meets Tessarion on the windswept beach and takes flight into the southwest where the earth is green but the nights are an inescapable, dreamless black.

~~~~~~~~~~

Aegon is weeping again; you hear him from the hallway. It is after nightfall, and the castle is illuminated only by firelight. Candles flicker; the hearth crackles and pops. In the shadows, Aegon lies with his dragonfire scars and his fractured legs and his useless hereditary magic, tears streaming down his face. You have a vision of what he will look like when he’s dead; you imagine the Stranger reaching up from underneath the bed to seize him with claws like a raven’s talons and drag him out of existence.

“I need it,” Aegon sobs when he sees you, grasping for the glass bottle of milk of the poppy. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to need it, but I do.”

“I’m here, Aegon. It’s alright. Let me help.” You pour him a cup of the bitter remedy, a strange gleaming white like pearl, opal, moonstone. Then you tilt the cup against his lips. Aegon gulps down the milk of the poppy and then falls back into his sea of pillows.

He murmurs, eyes closed as you graze the backs of your fingers feather-lightly over his unmarred cheek: “I wanted to start over with you.”

“You’ll still get the chance.”

“No,” he whimpers miserably. “I ruin everyone. Everyone I’m given, everyone I touch. Helaena, Jaehaerys, Maelor. We don’t even know where Jaehaera is, in Storm’s End, lost on the road, taken captive, dead. Otto, Autumn, Aemond, Mother, Sunfyre. And now I’m ruining you too.”

“You’re not,” you plead with him in a whisper. And not for the first time, you think: What do you require from me, Aegon? Wrath, compassion, healing, children? What can I do to give you hope again? Tell me and it’s yours. I’d do anything. I’d become anyone. “Aegon?” you begin, trying to ask him; but he is already unconscious. He’ll likely be out until sunrise.

You drink cup after cup of red wine and sit in the flame-lit shadows with him, in the quiet, in the liminal space between decisions, envisioned sins and prospective virtues. Then you leave the bedchamber like a ghost, a creak here and a tap there and no other trace. You wander down long, twisting corridors framed by dragons of iron and stone. And at the other end of the castle beyond a door you’ve never opened before is the lair of a very different breed of dragon: tall and lean and ambitious, his eyepatch removed and stowed away for the evening, his long silver hair hanging freely to his waist.

He is wearing cotton sleeping trousers but nothing else. He is seated at his writing desk and scrawling something onto parchment in black ink, a list or a diagram or a design for a new crown upon his ascension to the throne, you don’t know and you have no intention of asking. You have far too many things on your mind already. You feel nauseous and unsteady, you feel like you can’t possibly go through with this. You can’t imagine it. You can’t fathom what he would feel like, taste like.

Aemond steals a nonchalant glimpse of you, having no sense of your inner turmoil. “Can I assist you with something?”

“Yes,” you say simply, sipping your wine under the stone arch of the doorway.

He looks up at you again, his quill suddenly still in his hand. His two eyes are on you, one wide and river-blue, the other a soulless glittering sapphire in a tangle of ruined flesh. And now he understands. There are other Targaryens, he had said. “Take off your clothes. Sit down on the bed.”

You step inside his bedchamber and close the door behind you, setting your empty cup on the edge of his writing desk. You walk to his bed—dark green blankets, gold thread—and shed each piece of clothing you have on, a black gown and everything under it, not looking to see if Aemond is watching you, too anxious, trembling wildly. But you know his gaze is on you when you—standing naked and shivering in the firelight—begin to pull back the blankets and hear the sharp reprove in his voice.

“I did not tell you to hide yourself from me,” Aemond says. “Sit at the edge. Yes, there. Good.”

You perch on the bed and wait for him, your ankles linked, legs swinging restlessly, arms crossed over your chest. Aemond is staring at you from the opposite end of the room. You can’t look at him; you look elsewhere, at the tapestries of dragons hanging from the drafty stone walls, at the thick candles that drip white wax. And this won’t be like lying with a stranger, but it won’t be like lying with someone you want either, because you are profoundly uneasy and monstrously ashamed and perhaps even afraid.

Aemond is approaching now, firelight skating over his smooth, unsinged skin. He is undoing the tie at the waist of his trousers. He yanks them off, revealing himself to you. He is already hard, and he is massive, vast in length and width. The panic hits you like a breaking wave.

“Oh,” you gasp in alarm, unable to stop yourself. Then you explain so he won’t be offended: “I’m not going to be able to take you if I’m not ready.” You rest a hand on your bare thigh, slip it between your legs, begin to stroke yourself the way Aegon does, trying to relax, trying to think of him…

“No,” Aemond says, moving your hand aside. “Let me.”

Obediently, you rest your palms just behind you on the mattress, open your thighs for him, inhale sharpy as Aemond’s long, artful fingers touch you somewhere only one other man ever has. And you’re a traitor, the worst kind of traitor, because it’s working: you can feel yourself opening for him, hungering for him, coating his hand in slick warm wetness.

Aemond isn’t looking at your face. His eye is fixed on the place where his fingers are circling, where he is now pushing two inside of you, and while it happens abruptly and roughly enough to startle you it is not quite painful, or maybe it is, just the tiniest bit, but the pleasure eclipses the pain, the pleasure is a current you are powerless to swim against.

“You can tell me to stop,” Aemond says as he strokes you from the inside with his fingers buried to the knuckles, his breathing labored. “I don’t want you to. But if you tell me to stop, I’ll listen. Okay?”

You nod, and instead of an answer you give him a moan, stifled but unmistakable, dark treasonous forbidden ecstasy. And this snaps something in Aemond, it unleashes a part of him he’d been keeping tied up like an untrustworthy animal, one that could maul or maim or kill. He drops to his knees, hooks his arms beneath your thighs, drags you to him until his lips and tongue are on you with dizzyingly blissful pressure. You fall back onto the bed, one hand twisting into the blankets, the other in his waterfall of unruly silver hair, pushing him even harder against you as he licks ravenously. Aemond doesn’t seem to mind; with each roll of your hips and bitten-back plea his enthusiasm blooms, hums and triumphant chuckles spilling from his mouth as he swallows down the proof of your desire. It’s starting, that swift climb towards a high like nothing else on earth, something Aegon once taught you was possible. You are a betrayer, but with the very best of intentions; you are making a sacrifice, but it feels so much like a gift.

“Aemond, I’m ready,” you pant, your fingers hopelessly knotted in his hair. “You can do it now, you can…” And then you lose your words because instead of rising to his feet, Aemond stays right where he is, his tongue insatiable, his face drenched in your wetness.

He’s going to make me…I’m so close…

“Aemond, what are you waiting for…?”

His lips close around the spot where you are most sensitive and he sucks forcefully, and that feeling like a shuddering, irresistible unravelling strikes you harder and faster than it ever has before, so intense it is almost painful, sharp and commanding, not something he is doing with you but to you, and you know even in the golden haze of the climax that this is not about love but about power, pride, control, worthiness.

He doesn’t stop. He is licking you again, opening your folds with one hand, thrusting two fingers inside of you with the other. You are still feeling the pulsing, involuntary aftershocks of one high when the next begins building, building, building, and when you close your eyes all you can see are waves on the ocean in a storm, swelling to impossible heights and ungoverned by anything except the dubious mercy of nature.

“Aemond please,” you beg in a frayed whisper, bathed in sweat and guilt and frenzied lust. “I’m ready. Just do it, please…”

And then he wrenches you into another vortex and it takes everything in you not to scream, not to jolt awake the skeleton crew that tends to Dragonstone and its surreptitious guests. You are beyond complete thoughts, beyond sentences. You are boneless, your muscles have turned to mist and air, you are entirely under Aemond’s control and that’s where he has wanted you all along.

“Aemond, please, please, please…”

Unable to resist any longer, he stands—wiping the glistening, dripping sheen from his face with the back of one hand—and forces his cock inside you to the hilt. He does not slow down when he meets resistance, and you don’t tell him to. You moan in shock at the disorienting fullness, you cannot help it; it is a feeling on the knife’s edge between ripping agony and euphoric pleasure. It is something you would gratefully die of. He moves within you, deep and quick, his hands clasping your hips. Emotionally, you feel nothing but a razored, perilous, impersonal intensity; in your body, it is paradise.

Again? Again…?!

“Are you going to come for me one more time, Angel?” Aemond taunts you as he thrusts; and that’s Aegon’s name for you that he’s using, and it’s wrong, and Aemond knows that, and there is absolutely nothing you can do to break the spell he’s got you under, you can’t tell him to stop, you don’t have the will to, and if this is about power then you know who’s won out of the three of you, you know who has steel in his bones and lightning cracking in his veins.

It’s different this time, pleasure rising like the tide in your whole body, a peak that is not concentrated so clearly between your legs but everywhere: fingertips, spine, belly, heart.

“Come for me, Angel. I know you can do it.” And then for the first time Aemond leans in close to you, his pristine scarless chest pressed to yours, his lips traveling from your throat to the curve of your jaw, his tongue darting into your mouth before you can turn away, and he tastes like pure, mineral lust, and maybe that’s not just because of what he’s done to you, maybe that’s all he is all the way down, hunger that is never satisfied, a need to consume like fire burns flesh.

You whimper, a desperate vulnerable sound, a pleading for him to finish what he’s started and give you this one last high, just one more, just one, please, please, you’ll do anything.

“I’m better than him, aren’t I?” Aemond demands as he fucks you, and there’s no other word for it. This isn’t making love, this isn’t a meeting of souls, it is using someone else’s body to patch up all your hollows, all the pinprick voids you’ve been walking around with for years, losing yourself one blooddrop at a time until you pass by a mirror one day and think who the hell is that? “I know how to take care of you. I know what you want. I can do things Aegon never could. I’ll make you come again. I’ll give you a prince.”

And he coaxes it out of you like the memory of a dream, more like an ether than something you could name: a shimmering elation all over, a cry you can only muffle by biting down on Aemond’s neck as he pounds into you, and then he at last he surrenders what you came here for, but only after all the rest of it. He fills you with himself, so much of it that you can feel it pouring out onto the blankets, immense flooding wet warmth that gives you no satisfaction whatsoever.

I’m a traitor, you think, and for all the times you’ve changed your skin this is the very worst of them. I shouldn’t have done this. I wish I hadn’t done this.

Aemond lifts himself off of you and rolls onto his back, panting alongside you as you both stare up at the ceiling, drenched in each other’s salt and knowing things that were once so unthinkable. Aemond is gazing over at you. His clear blue eye is tracing your lips, your breasts, your hips, your folds that are soaked with his sweat and seed. You don’t want him watching you. You feel sick knowing he’s watching you. You get up from the bed and begin putting on your gown.

Aemond says: “We should probably try again tomorrow.”

You shake your head. “I can’t,” you reply quietly.

He sits up on the bed, his lone eye narrowed and suspicious. His hair is damp and now flows over his shoulders in disheveled silvery waves. “What?”

“I can’t do this again. I’m sorry, I just can’t.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“So that’s it,” Aemond flings. “Just this once and never again. Never again in our whole goddamn lives.”

“It feels like betraying him. It is betraying him.”

“And what if he can’t father any more children?!”

“Then I’ll be barren.”

Aemond glares, petulant, affronted. “I thought you wanted to help this family.”

“You didn’t do this for your family. You did it for you.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m a fucking monster.” He tears off the bed, tugs on his trousers, ties the knot with swift furious hands.

“Aemond, I didn’t say that, I don’t think—”

“You’ve done enough,” he seethes, pawing through a chest of clothing. He finds a shirt and pulls it on, gathers up his things, rages to the bedchamber door. He whips it open and disappears into the nightscape corridor.

“Aemond!” you call after him in a fierce whisper, as loudly as you dare to. “Aemond, where are you going?!”

“To take Harrenhal,” he pitches over his shoulder. And then he’s gone, and maybe it’s your fault, and maybe it isn’t, but either way you are wholly convinced that it is.

You bathe in one of the massive tubs heated by the lava that runs deep beneath the rocky earth of the island, scouring away every trace of Aemond, lathering yourself with soap scented with pine, rinsing, lathering again. Still, you can feel the way he moved inside you with such battering, rapturous force. Still, you miss him, you miss being able to talk to him and look to him and trust that he will protect Aegon in every way he can, for no matter how much envy Aemond is built of you believe his love for his king is stronger.

You return to Aegon’s bed, always so careful now not to jostle his legs, his shattered bones that are only just beginning to mend. You are petrified that he will know somehow—that he will see it on your face, smell it sweating from your pores—but Aegon has nothing for you but seeking hands and contented, drowsy sighs.

“Where’d you go?” he mumbles, still half-asleep, drawing you in closer. “I missed you. I keep dreaming that everyone’s gone. I watch you walk through the doorway and I’m left here in bed all alone.”

“Aegon?”

“Yes, wife.”

“Do you need children with me to be happy?”

He waits a long time before he answers. When at last he does, he chooses each word carefully. “I have never felt a calling to be a father. I’ve never been any good at it. Jaehaerys, Jaehaera, Maelor…they were mine, but they also weren’t, and I can’t explain it. I felt nothing for them except a vague sort of sympathy that they had the misfortune of being born to me. Now, did a lot of that have to do with my relationship with Helaena? Probably. And do I think things would be different if I had children with you? Yes, I believe they would be, to some extent at least. But I don’t need children to be happy. I just need you.”

You say with tears in your eyes and your voice splintering: “I’m so sorry, Aegon.”

He is mystified. “For what?”

“For not being a better person for you. For not being able to cure or protect you. For not being able to end the war.”

“Angel, nobody can,” Aegon says, fingers snarled in your hair, lips to your forehead. Then he smiles; you can feel the warm, playful curl of it against your skin. “Well, except Aemond, of course.”

~~~~~~~~~~

She is there to greet him when he arrives. She creeps out of the shadows like a spider, long limbs and volcanic-glass eyes, whispers like wind in brittle fall leaves and flesh that will never refuse him. She wears black, not for one night like you did but always; she has long dark hair that she never cuts or braids or ties back. Sometimes there are raven feathers in it, sometimes herbs or powders from spells, sometimes twigs and petals, sometimes blood. It all washes out in the cold cryptic currents of the Gods Eye. Once Daemon Targaryen was here, but he did not have a wound in the shape that she could fill, could walk into like a doorway and stitch herself into the velvet-gore lining of his lungs, his liver, his heart. But now Daemon is gone. And Harrenhal has a new king to reign over the city of bones and ashes.

She meets him under the starlight that trickles in through the ruins of Harrenhal, less a castle than an architectural graveyard, less a place of beginnings than of calamitous ends. Her fingernails trace his scar and she tells him it is the mark of a hero. She touches her lips to his sapphire eye and tells him it reminds her of a god. And thus the doorway opens, and Alys drifts through it, silent and resistless like smoke, like a plague.

Perpetual Resurrection, Aemond thinks. He knows they are the words of House Celtigar. He has studied the mottos of every noble house in Westeros; but none speak to him more than these.

She touches him and he sees everything he could be. He tastes her lips and drinks down the smooth intoxicating fire that burns the boy he once was away.

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen #aegon ii #aegon targaryen ii #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader

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xisumaduosbracket · 4 months

Text

!FINAL ROUND!

propaganda for: Joehillssays

propaganda for: Keralis01

friendly reminder, joe wrote dr who hermitcraft mlp fanfic during season one and it featured x heavily

VOTE XISUMA AND JOE! THEYVE BEEN BUDDY FRIENDS SINCE SEASON 1!

My candles can't burn down Any more. They can't burn anything down, These days. They just flicker with a false incandescence Less and less... Dimmer and dimmer... As their batteries discharge. I only replace them, The batteries, I mean, When you visit. So between your visits, Each night is dimmer and dimmer. Until I am alone in the dark.

ive gotta vote against my guy, keralis and xisuma are just too important

if keralis or hypno don't win i will literally eat a lime whole, unpeeled, and post it

sweet face, shashwammy, shashwambam, good girl, shammy void. all things keralis has called xisuma. they are besties and keralis is a flirt and they based next to each other on season 7 and Xisuma made a bee with keralis's eyes floting between their bases.

Have you seen them together?? Been together since the start of Hermitcraft, once "pranked" each other with a What Is Love noteblock song, Beesuma and Beeralis, "Shashwammy!", entirety of s7 actually

#polls #duo with: Joehillssays #duo with: Keralis01 #xisuma #xisumavoid #joehillssays #joehills #joe hills #keralis01 #keralis #mcyt polls #hermitblr #mcytblr

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starsandhughes · 6 months

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Penalty Box Series— Trevor Zegras Edition (Six)

23-24 Season Masterlist

previous: five

next: seven

OCTOBER 28, 2023

these have been short lately i’m so sorry

yourusername

liked by trevorzegras, leocarlssoon, and 15,688 others

yourusername welcome back to my postgame penalty box update show: MY BABY DADDY SCORED HIS FIRST GOAL OF THE SEASON EDITION!

tonight, my duckies won 7-4 against the flyers! coincidentally, the only time the ducks scored 7 goals last season was also in a 7-4 win where trevor scored and stromer assisted on it! isn't that fun? yay stats! that's my mans and my hero!

you'll notice that i put 0.5 as the penalty count, and that's because z sat for a too many men bench penalty, which don't count towards his personal minutes, but he was still in the box!

and our son! he's taking after his father with his second penalty of the season! i’m so proud of you, leo! i love you! we love criminals in the zegras-hughes family <3

i’m so proud of you guys! you're 3-0 on the roadie so far, with one more game to go! this is your season, boys! i love you!

my love, i’m so incredibly happy for you, and beyond proud! here's to the first of many! (i chugged my drink when he scored to celebrate btw so if you're currently drinking— chug! chug! chug! chug!) i love you, always, sweet boy🧡

p.s. FRANKY TANKY! MY BOY! CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR SECOND HATTY! YOU AND AUSTON PAPI MATTHEWS ARE NOW THE ONLY TWO IN THE NHL WITH TWO HATTIES! IT'S YOUR YEAR, BESTIE! I'M SO PROUD OF YOU! I LOVE YOU! MWAH!

p.s.s. coachy cro, never stop sending z in as the default criminal! it brings me immense joy!

tagged trevorzegras and leocarlssoon

view all 139 comments

trevorzegras i love that you love stats, my precious little weirdo! i wouldn't know my accomplishments without you telling me them🧡 i love you, forever

yourusername y/n "sissy" soon to be zegras-hughes: professional event planner, professional nerd, professional fiancé supporter

trevorzegras damn right

lhughes_06 JUST fiancé supporter?

jackhughes sissy, your brothers exit

colecaufield sissy, your friends exist

yourusername @/lhughes_06 @/jackhughes @.colecaufield i’m an amateur supporter of the rest of you <3

jamie.drysdale you two are bad influences on your son

yourusername YOU TAKE THAT BACK, DRYSDALE! HE CAME THIS WAY AND WE LOVE HIM!

trevorzegras we're trying our best!

leocarlssoon i take offense to this

yourusername SEE! YOU BROKE THE BABY! YOU BUMBLE FUCK BITCH!

jamie.drysdale @/yourusername okay okay i’m sorry! you're doing great! you'll be a great mom to your twins! i didn't mean it!

jackhughes @/yourusername does this mean i’m your favorite ex husband?

yourusername @/jackhughes no <3

user59 when sissy says chug, you chug!

frank_vatrano thanks, y/n/n! i love you, too! your new hat trick medals are definitely a plus

yourusername ya girl has a big brain!!

frank_vatrano she does😂

maxjones98 @/yourusername how much stuff for goodie bags and awards do you actually have on hand right now?

yourusername @/maxjones98 a lot! i have so much faith in my duckies! and my other boys!

trevorzegras @/maxjones89 her craft room has a bookshelf full of the stuff she includes with drawers labeled individually for all of us

frank_vatrano @/trevorzegras doesn't she also give bags to canucks, devils, and habs when we play them?

trevorzegras @/frank_vatrano it's a huge bookshelf

jamie.drysdale @/trevorzegras don't forget the stack of boxes to mail first goal trophies and personal record awards

trevorzegras @/frank_vatrano what he said

maxjones98 @/trevorzegras your girl is so amazingly sweet it's insane

yourusername @/maxjones98 JONESEY! YOU'RE GONNA MAKE ME CRY!

user40 the ducks?? on a win streak?? somebody made a deal with a god

_quinnhughes i think z should be at -1

yourusername 2 minute penalty for being a rude head. go sit in your bathtub.

trevorzegras you heard my baby mama! go!

_quinnhughes @/trevorzegras @/yourusername STOP WITH THE BABY DADDY AND MAMA

trevorzegras @_quinnhughes NO

yourusername MAKE ME

_quinnhughes oh dear god

user6 sissy and z are gonna make quinn go grey at 24😭

leocarlssoon i love you too mom😂

yourusername you're swimming so well!! you're such a good duckling!!!

leocarlssoon i try

yourusername you're succeeding!

user61 z pulled a quinn after he scored fr

colecaufield @/trevorzegras THAT'S MY MAN!

trevorzegras PLAY INSANE IN THE BRAIN!

yourusername his goal song might be by vanilla ice, but my mans is not vanilla

colecaufield @/yourusername why? just why?

jackhughes MY EYES

lhughes_06 AHHHH

trevorzegras @/yourusername ;)

_quinnhughes @/yourusername MINORS! THERE COULD BE MINORS READING THIS!

jamie.drysdale this is why i moved

yourusername @/jamie.drysdale stfu no it's not

colecaufield @/jamie.drysdale you were a tough soldier

user75 sissy gives no fucks about a digital footprint oh my god

_alexturcotte our boy is giving the rockettes a run for their money

yourusername his true dream is to be a vegas show girl

_alexturcotte shame he had to settle for hockey

yourusername truly

trevorzegras @/yourusername you're my new dream

yourusername @/trevorzegras that's sweet but we were teasing you and you ruined it

_alextucotte @/trevorzegras MOMENT RUINER

trevorzegras i can't win

jackhughes @/trevorzegras about time! that's my boy!

trevorzegras got these flashing lights on me🚨

yourusername that... i think made sense... i might have cracked the hockey boy code with this one!

jackhughes @/yourusername big brain

trevorzegras @/yourusername that's my girl!

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teyamsatan · 1 year

Text

Cruel Summer | Chapter IV: 'Tis The Damn Season

Pairings: Neteyam x (f)Human!Reader

Word Count: 8.2k words

Warnings/notes: angst, allusions to/mentions of smut, Neteyam x reader being the absolute cutest, some fluff, all the feels, 18+ minors DNI

Synopsis: Neteyam in unable to stop himself from confessing a truth he's tried to bury for years, a truth that will change everything between you. Jake shares news with his son that will threaten whatever peace Neteyam's come to know.

A/N: there's no earthly reason why this chapter had to take so long except my own inability to write it and procrastinating with requests instead. i hope this was worth the wait, and as this is the second to last chapter, prepare yourself for the main meal soon. I don't think that will take that long, cause I've had the last chapter in my mind before I even started writing this story to begin with. I hope you enjoy, i'd love to hear your thoughts, i love to hear from you besties.

: ̗̀➛ listen to the Cruel Summer playlist here : ̗̀➛ masterlist (x) : ̗̀➛ series masterlist (x)

I'm stayin' at my parents' house

And the road not taken looks real good now

And it always leads to you in my hometown

Neteyam’s head was spinning with worry and mind-numbing fear, watching his sister’s spirit be taken out of her, her bioluminescent freckles that usually shine brighter than any other Na’vi he’s ever seen so dim they were barely alight anymore. He was picking at his nails nervously, a habit he hasn’t had since he was 7, watching as his mother was trying her best to shake her awake, almost like she was trying to will life back into her. The wails got to Neteyam more than he cared to admit, and eventually, he excused himself and left the family marui, settling instead for watching the tiny glowing fish as they surrounded and circled his ankles. Neteyam rarely felt powerless in his life. No matter what the situation was, no matter how dire, he always felt like he could somehow make it his own, he could somehow make it work. But now, as he stood there, listening to cries and tries, listening to his family trying to figure out how to save his baby sister, Neteyam felt hopeless and helpless, like a child. In moments like this, he missed you most. It was hard being without you always, his body having to unlearn and relearn instincts and feelings, having to rewire his brain from having been so accustomed to you and your body, and your mind and your soul for the past 19 years of his life. You would know what to do. You’d have some medical trick or a human way, you’d scream everyone out of the room and you’d just somehow figure it out. You always were able to just… figure things out. He missed that, along with everything else.

“I’m going to contact Norm and Max, ok, baby? It’s going to be alright, they’ll know what to do. It’ll be alright.”

Neteyam was terrified as the hours passed, waiting for the flying machine he knew would be coming any minute, and what would it bring along with it. His questions, his biggest dream and biggest nightmare, all plaguing him and his mind for the past few hours, were swiftly answered as from the helicopter came three figures, one blue one and two humans. One human in particular he cared about. His heart was beating so loudly it was almost completely covering the incessant, deafening sound the propellor blades were making. You were so beautiful, even more beautiful than he remembered. He couldn’t help the way his eyes trailed over your body and focused on scars that have appeared in the time you were apart, scars that made his stomach drop, or the way your hair was shorter, or the way you have gotten leaner and more muscular. He couldn’t help his mind wandering and twisting every change, a deep feeling of sorrow and weird jealousy, for the people that got to watch you grow, for the people that had to touch your body to heal your wounds, for the people the got to help you when he didn’t - when he couldn’t.

Your eyes immediately found his, the way they always had the power to, and his breath hitched in his throat, the way it always seemed to when you did. He didn’t miss the way your eyes widened imperceptibly as you noticed him, nor the way they hardened as his presence took his toll on your mind. The frown and the hurt, the slight glistening of tears threatening to spill reminded Neteyam of the last time he saw you, the time that could have gone better, should have gone better than it did, and how he never got the chance to say goodbye. So many words he wanted to say, so many confessions that have rested in his chest for years that needed to be let out but weren’t, now close to spilling out as a blurt of messed-up feelings. So close, yet so far. Because this wasn’t the time - it never seemed to be when it came to you and him. You stood in the back and watched as Norm and Max greeted his father, and you all made your way back to the tent, the attention fully back on his sister who was still unconscious. The sight of her tugged at his heart so much it was making him sick, so he refused to walk in and see what they were doing, what human devices and contraptions it took to bring Kiri back to them.

There's an ache in you put there by the ache in me

But if it's all the same to you, it's the same to me

His skin felt like it caught fire as it perceived your body in its vicinity, as you walked out of the marui and settled on the weaved pathway by the edge of the water, feet dangling off it. It felt so strange, having you back in his space. Like so much and yet nothing had changed. Like he hadn’t left you, and his life behind, his happiness and hope, like you didn’t kick him out and refused to send him off and at least pretend to make it easier on both of you. Like he never had to keep pretending his life wasn’t permeated fully by your very essence, your very being, by everything you were.

“Vol…”

You didn’t look at him. You couldn’t. Neteyam felt anger bubble up inside him. This whole thing was so fucking unfair. You were so fucking unfair. He didn’t choose any of this. He didn’t want to leave you, why can’t you see that? Why could you not at least try to understand, try to be a little sympathetic towards the fact that this was killing him, and he suffered everyday, and the cold he felt from you cut worse than any blade, hurt worse than any wound.

“God fucking damn it, Vol. Can you stop with the attitude and just please talk to me? I don’t see you in months, you show up here, clearly, you wanted to see us… see me. I’m here, so just talk to me. If you have to scream, or shout, or kick me, you can do that as long as you fucking talk.”

“I’m not here for you. I’m here for Kiri.”

“Oh, stop it. Norm and Max could take care of Kiri well enough, and you know that. You’re not just here for Kiri. You’re here for me, too. I want to talk, we have to talk.”

“No, Neteyam. We don’t have to talk. There’s nothing to talk about because nothing fucking matters anymore. None of it. We’re just strangers now, right? Acquaintances. I’ll see you every few months whenever Jake needs something and that’s about the extent of our relationship. Nineteen years of being there for you, of being your best friend, and in a day, you somehow became a stranger. You gave away the right to talk to me the second you walked out that door.”

Neteyam watched as you took your leave, going back into the tent, leaving him once more to deal with all that stood to plague him.

It took hours, but Kiri’s condition wasn’t improving even with all the contraptions and equipment you were using on her. None of you knew what was wrong, although Norm and Max thought it was epilepsy. It looked like epilepsy, you thought, but if it had been, she would be back by now. It hurt you watching her like that, laying on the floor, the light of her freckles so dim they were barely visible anymore, and you touched her, running your hands over her chest and arm, hoping you could pray the light back into her, so you could tell her you’re sorry that you didn’t say goodbye to her. You would tell her that every time you are in the forest and you find a bead or flower that you’ve never seen before, you collect it with her in mind and keep it there in the hopes you’ll one day see her again, and she could use them for her tops or for the jewellery she always makes for everyone she loves. You missed her, the same way you missed them all, and you needed her to know that, despite all the hurt and the pain they’ve left behind, she would always be your sister.

Neytiri eyed you curiously while you spent time with her daughter, and you cowered a little under her gaze. You knew it was dumb, but you’ve always loved Neytiri. You watched your whole life as she was the best mother to her children, and how patient and caring and funny and attentive she was, and you always hoped one day she’d learn to love you too, and that through her you could finally feel what it was like to have a mother, a loving mother. But she never did, no matter the time that passed or the efforts you made, so you stopped trying and forsook your futile aspirations. It was time to grow up, and you did - not fully whole, never quite the person you hoped you would become, but there was no point in dwelling on matters of the past, of realities you’d never be able to undo.

“Will she live?” Your eyes snapped to her in shock as she spoke. She very rarely ever spoke to you directly. And not only did she do just that, but she asked you a question. A genuine question about the well-being of her daughter. You couldn’t believe she cared what you thought about it to ask. She sounded so sad and desolate, her voice hoarse and nasal from the amount she had cried.

“I’m sure she will… she’s a tough girl. She’s special, she always has been. I think she’ll be just fine.”

“Then why isn’t she awake yet? If it’s what they say it is… why?” Her voice broke at the last word and yours was not far off when you answered her.

“I don’t know. But I don’t think they are right. I think it’s more complicated than that.”

She looked confused at you, then approached and sat down in front of her, across from you, as her hands also found Kiri’s body, pushing the bangs out of her face.

“Her seizure happened at the Tree of Souls. At the bridge between this world and Eywa’s. I think nothing we, humans, or our technology could possibly do could bring her back. I think she needs the Tsa’hik.”

Her eyes widened at your words and she immediately got up and sprinted out of the tent, and you hoped you were right, partly because of Kiri and partly cause maybe this way, not that it mattered anymore, but maybe she’d finally stop looking at you like a stray dog and more like an actual person.

The next thing you knew, Neytiri came in with an array of people, the most imposing of which was a woman, who you assumed was the Metkayina Tsa’hik, who intimidated you beyond belief from the second she walked in, all tall and beautiful and imposing… and pregnant. You instinctively rose from your spot and got out, feeling a sudden chill in the room and knowing for a fact it wasn’t a place you were welcomed in anymore. You didn’t care, as long as it meant Kiri would be fine. You joined the rest of the family and the scientists outside, the silence thick as all of you watched with heavy hearts, hoping for a miracle. It took a while, but eventually, the silence was disrupted by gasps of relief as Kiri did indeed wake up, immediately tackled by several of her family members hugging her, consoling her as she cried.

So we could call it even

You could call me babe for the weekend

'Tis the damn season, write this down

Early in the evening, when everything settled down, you made your way outside the marui once more, looking at the sky as it was preparing itself for eclipse, finally able to take in the beauty of this place, unlike anything you’ve ever seen before and more breathtaking than you could have ever imagined. You felt Neteyam’s presence flood your own as he approached you - your senses might never be as acute as theirs, neither your vision, or hearing, or touch able to hold a candle to their own, but none of that ever mattered when it came to him. His being was enough to turn you inside out, and sharpen your senses so that it would pick up everything about him, from his slightly musky and woody smell, that changed throughout the month as his heat approached, to the sound and cadence of his footsteps that were unmistakable to you no matter how far they were approaching you from, to the slight clink of the beads in his hair, that sometimes felt like it moved on its own accord, to even his breathing and its pattern, and the way it seemed to increase whenever he was close to you.

“Now can we talk? Kiri’s fine, she’s finally fine. Please, Vol…”

“Neteyam, I can’t make myself any clearer. I have nothing to say to you.”

Neteyam felt anger overtake him again. What would he have to do to get you to listen, to get you to give him one second, just one second to explain to you, to talk to you? It was so fucking unfair, to have to lose so much and yet be painted as the villain by you, the person who’s supposed to know him better than anyone else in the world, who used to understand him, to whom he never had to explain any of his thought process because there was no need. You always just knew. He hoped he didn’t have to do this, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and with that rationale in mind, Neteyam approached you suddenly and picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder and making his way out of the village.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?! Put me down!” Neteyam pondered her question for a second. Maybe he truly was out of his mind. None of this was like him at all, this is not something he would ever have done a while ago, never before you. Neteyam was selfless, that’s how he was brought up to be, that’s the only way he knew how to be. But for the first time in his life, he needed to be selfish. For the first time in his life, he would do what he wanted to do, and he wanted to talk to you. Alone. He wanted to feel you, he wanted to remember what it was like for his heart to jump out of his chest and for his nostrils to be flooded with the only scent that drove his senses haywire and for his mind to scramble trying to understand the myriad of emotions running through it while he looked at you. He hasn’t seen you in months, haven’t felt you in months, and he was supposed to let it go without a fight?

No fucking way.

You were so light in his arms, it felt like he was carrying a doll, and he barely registered your tiny ineffectual fists punching at his back, although he did feel like your legs were definitely stronger, just like the rest of you was since he last saw you. He didn’t stop until he hit an isolate meadow in the mangrove forest, your annoyed huffs and croaky screams drowning out the beautiful melodies played by the birds and his family’s ikran, that now had a home in these trees.

“I have no problem with holding you like this the whole time, but I’d rather look at you while I speak. I will put you down, but I swear on everything I hold dear, Vol, if you run, I will drag you back by your feet if I have to. We are talking, whether you like it or not.”

With that threat, he lifted you off his shoulder and put you gently on the ground. You stood where he placed you, but refused to look at him, a deep frown marring your beautiful face. He sighed, feeling defeated and unmoored, but kneeled in front of you so he can look at your face properly, and you could look at his.

“Vol, we haven’t seen each other in months. I didn’t know whether I’d ever see you again, but you’re here. You came here, out of your own volition. I know you wanted to see me. I know you, Vol. And you know me. You’re the only one that knows me.” He takes a hold of your mask gently and angles your face with barely any force to make you face him. “I was so mad at you for the way you shut me out. For not allowing me to say goodbye the way I wanted to, the way I should have. I needed to hold you, and tell you that I’ll miss you and that you’ll always be my best friend. That I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Your eyes could barely hold it in, the urge to let it out and cry. Cry at seeing him again, at how frustrating he was, how angry you were, but how happy at the same time to finally see him again, to feel his touch on your skin and the way it lit it on fire, the way desire and ache and love pulsed through your veins at his mere proximity, how, despite all the months, all the time, all the hurt, it felt like nothing had changed between you, like seeing him again was exactly like coming back home after a long day outside, exhausted and spent, and happy to be comfortable and safe again.

“I don’t care. I don’t care how sorry any of you are. You left your clan behind, and me, all of us behind, to go hide while we stand and fight and worry for our lives and the lives of everyone in the clan.”

Your words struck a chord in Neteyam and he felt the anger prick painfully at his mind, and despite priding himself on his composure, he couldn’t hold it in any longer, not anymore. Months of anguish kept inside finally came out and there was little he could do to stop it.

“We left so we could protect you! Why must you be so stubborn all of the fucking time? This wasn’t done to hurt you, Vol. This has nothing to do with you! None of us wanted to go! Believe it or not, you’re not the only one affected by this. I understand that you are upset and you have every reason to be, but what was the alternative? Either we stayed and the whole clan was even more at risk than it already is, or we brought two humans with us across the oceans to a new clan that hates humans?! Stop being so fucking selfish for one second and understand this isn’t only about you! I fucking lost everything that day! I lost my home, and my friends, and my future as Olo’eyktan, fuck, I lost the woman I lo-“

Your eyes go wide in shock at the words almost spoken, words that you imagined all your life but couldn’t believe right now. That can’t be what he was telling you, right? After all this time apart, after all the time together, in which you shared anything and everything under the sun, in secrets kept and broken promises, it couldn’t be that Neteyam was confessing to you something you swore you’d never feel for each other, something you wanted nothing more than to hear, something that would somehow both kill you and put you back together at the same time.

“What did you just say?”

Time flies, messy as the mud on your truck tires

Now I'm missing your smile, hear me out

We could just ride around

And the road not taken looks real good now

And it always leads to you in my hometown

His own wide eyes settle after a while, deep, settling breaths calming his heartbeat that he could feel in his throat, in his ears, in his temples. This was it. After all this time, after everything you’ve gone through, ironically now when there was no chance for you, not that there ever was, now when he was mad at you, when he would lose you again in just a short while, now he was about to confess something that has plagued him for years, that he’s wanted to tell you, that he knew he never could.

He slowly brought his hand to your neck and collarbone, eyes tearing up mirroring your own, and he knew it would be easy telling you this, because loving you was easy, and falling in love with you - the easiest thing he’s ever done. His thumb caressed your soft skin and he watched in wonder as your mouth opened slightly, a soft exhale escaping you, and he followed the tear that rolled down your cheek when you closed your eyes from the overwhelming feelings trying you.

“I lost the woman I love. The only woman I’ve ever loved. The annoying, aggravating, impossible woman who I’ve watched become the most beautiful, intelligent, incredible person, who taught me everything I know about anything that matters. Who I promised I wouldn’t fall in love with, but I did. A long time ago.”

You shook your head slightly, feeling the tears fall down your face, the stitches that you managed to put in the wounds deep in your soul coming loose around him, bleeding once more, and you wondered if despite wishing to hear these words for years, now that you have, it was the last thing you were ever going to hear. Because how are you supposed to survive this now, this overbearing pain of loving him, and losing him, knowing all this time he loved you, too, and that this was so far past what you agreed on… that it was love, requited love, crazy, stupid, incredible, one-of-a-kind love?

“You can’t say shit like this to me, Neteyam. You think I’m selfish? How about you? Why would you say these things to me now? I’m about to leave, I’m about to lose you again. It took me months to put back together what you broke, and I’m still not there yet, and now you say this shit, and what am I supposed to do with it, huh? How am I supposed to move on? To accept that I love a man that’ll never be mine, that I’ll never have except in fleeting moments, in secret affairs, that I’ve had to watch turn his back to me and choose duty over me, over and over and over again. You’re being mean. You’re being selfish.”

“You fucking taught me to be selfish. You told me over and over my whole life to be more selfish. Well here I am, I’m being selfish. I want something, and that something is you. I want you. I need you. I need you to know that I’m in love with you, and to know that at least once in my life I get to make love to the woman i love and know that she loves me too, and that this is real, and that I’ve known this feeling and lived this feeling, at least once. Please. Please just tell me it wasn’t in my head. That all these years, despite what we told each other and ourselves, I loved you and you loved me too. And it was real, the only real thing I’ve ever known.”

He sounded so forlorn, so desperate for you to ease his pain and mend his heart that was just as broken as yours, that suffered through as much, if not more, that was laid bared on the table for you to see it, to feel it, to either take it gently in your palms or squish it under your feet. No matter how mad you were, it was hard not to be taken aback and awed at his confession, not to feel privileged to be loved by him, by the best man you’ve ever met, a man who could have anyone in this world easily, whose mere presence in a room commands respect and attention, whose mind and words inspired Omaticaya songs, whose body motivated young men and enamoured young women. He was the best there was, and he wanted you. A human, who had none of the qualities praised and admired in the clan and in his world, but all the ones he wanted and hoped for. Because you were his best friend. And you understood him, and you stood by him through thick and thin, in sickness and in health, your whole entire lives. And you loved him, despite his shortcomings, despite being different to you, and you smiled at him in the way that put the sun to shame, and your eyes lit up when looking at him in a way that put the stars out of work. And you found him funny, which few people did - Lo’ak was the funny one, not him, that’s what he has always been told, but not to you, and if he was honest with himself, he only made jokes to hear your laugh and to feel the way you punched him whenever you found something funny. You have loved him all your life, you’ve been in love with him for years, and despite all that stood against you, all that you knew would prevent your own happy ending, despite your mind telling you it’s easier to just walk away, it’s safer for you to just leave and protect your heart, your heart needed to feel his, and feel him. Your heart needed to know what it would be, to be with him knowing what you knew now, knowing for a fact this is real, and it’s everything.

You circled his wrist with your fingers and your other hand found his hair, that you pushed away from his face. You couldn’t help your smile that felt like the first real one you’ve cracked in months, and the way your heart skipped every other beat taking in his beauty, marvelling at his eyes that were pools of love and lust, of sadness and hope, of anguish and fear.

“Of course it was real, skxawng.” You said with soft sobs. “It’s all real. It’s always been real. My whole life, you’ve been the only thing that’s been real.” You took off your mask, and closed the distance between you and kissed him, and you both melt into it, feeling the months apart fade away, feeling your mind empty of everything outside of him and his taste and his scent, and the feel of his skin as your palms traced his face and neck, of the way your own skin tingles under his touch. As you put your mask back on, struggling to catch your breath, he reaches for the buttons of your linen shirt and undoes them with surprising gentleness and accuracy, so tiny in his huge hands, and slides the shirt down your arms until it falls on the floor. You shudder a little under the breeze now caressing your bare skin and at the way Neteyam’s thumb flickers over one of your nipples, still covered by a black lace bra.

“You’re so beautiful. So, so beautiful. I can’t believe I get to love you, I can’t believe you’re mine. And I’m yours, Vol. I’m yours, I’ve always been yours. I’ll always be yours.”

You said nothing as the seed of doubt didn’t allow you to hope or even consider the future, instead getting lost in the pleasure of his skilled hands on your body, that still knew everything about you, as he laid you down on the ground gently and hovered over you, as his lips drew maps of unknown marvels on your soft skin, so different to his, but still so familiar, and he felt for the first time since his ikran landed on that beach months ago that this place could finally feel like home. He hated how despite memorising every curve, and beauty mark, and scar on your body, there were things that he had to relearn, curves he had to discover as his mouth came to terms with the changes he wasn’t there to witness, wasn’t there to get accustomed to as they happened to you. He pushed the unpleasant thought aside. It just meant he needed to relearn it, and he was happy with that. He was happy to hope he would get to once again know everything about you, and never get the chance to miss you again.

Despite your silence, the tears still came and went, fogging up your mask listening to him and thinking about how much you’ve wanted this, and how much it will all hurt when it will inevitably succumb into nothing again. He stopped and came back to your level as he heard your quiet sniffles, ears perking up at the sound.

“Vol…”

“We shouldn’t be doing this, Neteyam. When you left, it killed me. It took me months to get back together enough to be normal again, if we do this, after everything you’ve said, after what i know, if i lose you, I…”

For the first time in his life and in your life, it was Neteyam who removed your mask covering your face and kissed you, and you swore you could have died then and been happy about it, and thank your lucky star you got to go while feeling his lips on yours, but soon enough he covered your face again and caressed your hair gently.

“We have to do this because of what I said. Because of what you said. Because you are the only woman I’ll ever love, because for all intents and purposes, you are my mate. I want you to be my mate. Because all I’ve dreamt about for years is doing this with you knowing that you loved me too.” His expression changed, and in a serious tone, he continued. “But we won’t do anything you don’t want to, Vol. If you don’t want to do this, just tell me.”

Damn him, you thought bitterly. Damn him for having the ability of making you completely forget and forsake reason or any critical thinking when it came to him, when it came to what he meant to you. Of course you wanted to do this. You wanted nothing more than to do this. And despite how much your mind was screaming in pain at the eventuality of his loss, another part of it was screaming at the possibility of never feeling this feeling, at least once. All you managed was a meek shake of your head, and he smiled, a stupidly handsome smile and you couldn’t help yours from blossoming on your face as well, or the sense of fleeting happiness that enveloped you like a warm blanket.

Despite whatever feelings of love you now knew were harboured in your convoluted relationship, you and Neteyam very rarely acted like it when you had sex. Your love was mostly tangible in the way you healed him, in the way he listened to your endless chattering about human stuff, in the way he looked at you when you said something that he found particularly endearing or the way you looked for him first whenever something anything of note happened to you. Sex, on the other hand, was a means to an end to you most times, just a way to relief tension and stress, a way to give your body what it needed, what it wanted, with someone who knew how to get it there. It was rough, and teasing, it was pushing your bodies to the extremes and testing your own and each other’s boundaries, but there was no need for that now. Because right now, in the way he touched you, in the way you felt, you knew this was different. You knew it was going to change everything yet again, more so than a mere confession ever could. Because now, knowing what you knew, feeling what you felt, you were making love, and it was an intimacy you’ve never experienced before.

Back then, no matter how thoroughly he got you ready, no matter how long the foreplay, there was always a sense of urgency. It lasted all night, and there was still urgency to it. There was none of that now, as he explored every ounce of your body in languid, deliberate movements in between sonorous whispers that sounded a lot like adoration and wonderment, that told you how much he loved you, how much he’s missed you, how you were everything to him and listening to it felt a lot like heaven, a lot like comfort, a lot like home.

He caressed your thighs from your ankles to the hips, and gently removed your shorts and placed them on the ground, next to your shirt. He inhaled sharply taking in your body and how much he missed it, and how much despite all the little changes, you were still very much yourself, and your body was still the one he used to get drunk on every night, that he got to once more tonight. You helped him out by removing your bra and underwear, and you smiled at the way his pupils dilated watching you, his eyes almost black now. You pulled him by his loincloth until he was over you again, and he took no time in attaching himself to you, and his lips to your neck, and his hands to your waist. Your heart was beating loudly as you felt him and he smiled against your chest when his lips felt your quickening pulse, knowing that his was just the same, that this was so much more than it ever was before. He never quite understood while people put so much emphasis on sex, why it was regarded as such an intimate act, especially to humans, but he understood now, as he felt you, as he knew you were in love with each other, that there was no doubt in either of your minds, that this feeling, and what you were doing, was something he could only conceive of doing with you, that this was going to bind you for life, regardless of the bond, regardless of a mating ritual, regardless of anything else. You were his and he was yours, forever.

You reached over and untied his tewng and threw it with the rest of your clothes and just as it happened every time, you were always taken aback by his length, that somehow was always bigger than you remembered, and in light of the months spent apart, you were genuinely wondering about the logistics of how it was ever going to fit.

“I know, I’m a little concerned, too.”

You laughed, relieved that it was a thought shared between you, and doing your best to compose yourself and take a deep breath in, you removed your mask once more with one hand and pulled him towards you with the other, your lips meeting in a wet, messy kiss, filled with euphoric smiles and breathless moans, and for the first time in your life, you felt happy. Even it was just for a little while, just for a short, fleeting moment in time, you were wholly happy, and you had everything you ever wanted. A maskless kiss in the beautiful nature that surrounded you, shared with the man you loved, that you now knew loved you too, and the quiet hope of tomorrow. You didn’t want it to end, even as you felt the world slowly disappear from view, even as he reluctantly put some distance between you and helped you fasten it back onto your face.

“I never missed your room more than right this second.”

“Tell me about it.”

As he slowly entered you, you were reminded of your first time, nearly two years ago now, and how sweet he had been, and how thoughtful and kind, and how he was the same now. He took his time, comforting you at every point, and held you as you cried from the pain of being stretched out after so long, by a length and girth no human normally was supposed to know, and he talked you through it, and you cracked a few jokes in between soft sobs and muffled cries, and you understood then what it felt like to be whole, and mended by a touch or a gaze, as long as they came from the one person in the world that mattered.

When the pain subsided, it was replaced by ecstasy and the best feeling you’ve ever felt, as the pleasure he was always able to coax out of you was magnified infinitely by his confession, and you knew he felt the same by the way he looked at you, by how isolated tears fell from his eyes and onto your mask, how his smile was radiant and reassured, how he held you and touched you like he’d never let you go again, and God, you hoped he never did. When you came, you came together, and the overwhelming feelings left you a panting, limp mess around him, your mind empty from the high and full from the simple “I love you” that followed.

“I have missed you so much, Vol.” suddenly, he picks you up by your waist and turns you so that you are placed gently on his chest, and you sprawl on his body, with him still deep in you, tightening your arms around him and your head on his chest. You lay there for a long while, while he places kisses on your head and runs his fingers down your back and thighs, taking you in, and you listen to his heartbeat, fast and erratic, so much like your own, so much like the soundtrack to your dreams, the music of your deepest fantasies.

It took forever for either of you to move at all, just content being in each other’s presence, making up for months of lost love and lost nights. Eventually, you removed your head from where it has found its once-more home, and looked at him.

“I missed you, too. I can’t believe I’m here. There’s so much I want to tell you.”

And so you did. You spent hours talking, catching up, talking about anything and everything, like you always used to when you were young. You told him about training and how Tarsem is doing a good job as Olo'eyktan, how he wants both you and Spider to be a more involved part of the plan, how he’s got you training and how you feel excited to be more involved in this part of his life that you never quite got to be involved in before. You tell him about every new scar on your body and he does the same, and he goes over the village and the training, and all the new people he’s met and how he likes Tsireya and Rot’xo but not Aonung, he tells you about all the ways Lo’ak is testing their dad’s patience and all the dreams he’s had of you. That takes a while, and you laugh at the sillier ones and cry at the more emotional ones, and cry at the way he was right that you had been selfish, and how much in your attempt to deal with your own heartbreak, you forgot that he was going through his own. You never separated from each other, still hugging, or cuddling, or pressing at least one leg against the other’s, refusing to be more than a couple centimetres apart at a time, if you could help it.

Sleep in half the day just for old times' sake

I won't ask you to wait if you don't ask me to stay

So I'll go back to L.A. and the so-called friends

Who'll write books about me, if I ever make it

And wonder about the only soul who can tell which smiles I'm fakin'

You didn’t talk about the future. About how you knew you would have to leave soon, and what would happen after, you didn’t talk about the hurt or the pain, or the way it would come crashing down in front of you so soon, because right now, it didn’t matter. Because you knew for the first time in your life that all the pain the world could possibly throw at you would be worth this, and if you had to spend your whole life paying for it, you’ve made your peace with that. At least, you got this. And no matter what you lost, you’d always have this.

In the morning, he took your hand in his and lifted you, and watched as you put your bra and panties back on. He didn’t say anything as you bent for the rest of your clothes, clearly enjoying the view, but stopped you as you were trying to get dressed.

“Let’s go for a swim. You have a mask, you can breathe underwater better than me.” He chuckled a little. “I want to show you my new life, I need you to be part of it.”

You were touched by his words. You nodded and dropped the shirt, and removed your hand from his swiftly. Without warning, you started running towards the beach, not looking behind you as you screamed after him.

“Last one in the water has to do whatever the other one wants.”

Neteyam rolled his eyes, but watched as you ran away from him, as you always did, wild and free, and he was relieved to realise some things would never change, and this was definitely one, alongside the eternal love he felt for you. He gave you quite the headstart, but eventually started running, and it took very little on his part to catch up to you, and he listened to your screams of annoyance as his feet touched the water first and he dove in, submerging his body and grabbing your waist and pulling you under with him. He allowed you to take the unearthly beauty in, with a shocked expression on your face, your mouth agape as you noticed the coral and all the fish that were circling you curiously. You reached out for them and they immediately dispersed, and he smiled at how it made you jump slightly, his heart swelling with affection and jubilance at this moment that he never thought he’d get, that he would never forget, that he would cherish forever.

You swam for hours, and for the first time in either of your lives, Neteyam felt grateful for your mask, that allowed you to breathe underwater for extended periods of time, much longer than he could, that allowed you to go with him on an ilu and experience this new feeling that felt so different than an ikran, and yet somehow just as liberating and freeing, and you loved it, and all of a sudden he loved it a little more than he did before.

"So what do you want?" you say playfully as you resurface, your head in his neck, his body flush against yours as you float aimlessly. He just tilts his head, not understanding your question.

"You beat me in the water. I said that whoever wins gets to tell the other what to do."

Neteyam thought about it for a long while.

"I have everything I want right now." he held you a bit tighter as he answered. "I still can't believe you're here. I can't believe these last few hours have been real. There's nothing else I could ever want."

You sighed against him, and he couldn't tell if it was happy or not, and right now, he didn't want to know.

"You're a better person than I am. I would have asked for eternal servitude."

He chuckled as his lips found your wet hair again.

"You got it, Vol."

And the heart I know I'm breakin' is my own

To leave the warmest bed I've ever known

As you walked back to the village, the dream world you lived in since he brought you to the forest was quickly fading before your eyes, and the worries, and the fear were settling in again, like they always seemed to, and it felt a lot like greeting old friends that never left, just hid a little under a curtain of flowy incandescence, ready to pounce at the slightest opportunity. Neteyam's voice broke through the dark feelings overcoming you, like he always had the power to.

“I know it's scary, thinking of what's next. I know. I'm terrified, but seeing you again, Vol, this night, this morning, it made me realise I can't lose you again. So just stay. I’ll talk to my parents, I’ll talk to the Metkayina. We’ll figure it out. Just please stay.”

His words managed to put your mind as ease almost as much as they shocked you in their spontaneity and craziness. Neteyam wasn't a rash person, or a person who just blurted out big life decisions, such as this one. You laughed awkwardly, trying to defuse the tension you felt in yourself and in the air around you.

“How would that ever work, silly?”

“I don’t know. It will work. Or I’ll come back with you, I’ll come back home. We’ll figure it out, ok? Just please say yes.”

You roll your eyes at him, but you were grateful. And so, so happy. Because despite everything, this was everything you've ever wanted, and everything you thought you'd never get. You didn't know why you came to Awa'atlu. To yell at him, to check for yourself how he was doing, if he managed to move on easier than you could. To be angry, to get closure, to say goodbye forever. But now, it felt a lot like you were here for a new beginning, for a second chance at love, and how could you ever say no to that? The little nod makes Neteyam beam, and he picks you up and spins you around, once again kissing each-other against the ticking time bomb of your forsaken mask, laughing against his lips and his cheeks as he peppers kisses throughout your whole face, on your eyes, and your cheeks, on your forehead and your nose.

"Thank you."

We could call it even, even though I'm leavin'

And I'll be yours for the weekend, 'tis the damn season

"I'll go check on Kiri. You talk to your parents, ok?"

Neteyam did just that, as he found his dad sitting alone by the edge of the water, cleaning his favourite weapon, the way he liked to do when there was something on his mind, or something weighing heavily on his shoulders. Kiri's condition must have taken a bigger toll on him than Neteyam realised, he thought absentmindedly. He was so nervous, so afraid of what he had to say and how his parents would react. His mating situation has been a matter of great debate in their family for a years now, and so to tell them he's chosen... a human, essentially giving up his chance at feeling the bond, at a child... he knew would be a lot to take in, but he was ready, and he had chosen, and for once in his life, Neteyam would have his way.

"Dad?"

His father was startled as he got pulled out of his musings, another rare occurence.

"Neteyam, it's good you're here. I need to chat to you."

Neteyam took a seat by his dad, eyeing him keenly.

"Is everything alright, you seem off."

"Neteyam..." the former Olo'eyktan winced a little, refusing to meet his son's gaze.

"The situation with the Metkayina is... a little more dire than I told you before. Tonowari told us the clan is not fully willing to accept us, that they don't consider us one of them, even despite the Uturu given by their own Olo'eyktan. He's worried for our future here, and honestly son, so am I. I don't want us to have to leave again, to have to uproot our family once more.

He's... thought of a solution. For it to be an easier transition. A way forward, a way to unite the clans, the power of the Omaticaya, the blood of the Toruk Makto with the ruling family of the reef people. As you know, Tonowari has an older daughter, a warrior. She's said to be one of the most proficient and skilled warriors this tribe's ever seen. They say she's beautiful and smart. Kind and charismatic.

Neteyam... in order for us to stay, you will have to mate with her."

And I’ll be yours for the weekend..

‘tis the damn season.

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