#but good god wherever she is she's proud as FUCK of seven
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I would say “not to be one track mind about this” but actually, absolutely to be a one track mind about this but the more I’m rewatching Voyager and thinking about Seven on Picard, the more I’m like oh shit Seven has entirely made herself in Janeway’s image, and it’s something she’s immensely proud of.
And ofc there are all kinds of questions about what Janeway intended and didn’t intend and how much is actually inherently Seven’s self, but look at Fenris Ranger Seven of Nine, fighting to help people who have been left behind or can’t help themselves, circumventing the bigger systems that get in the way of immediate, direct action out of necessity and because she sees no other possible way to be and tell me this isn’t entirely Janeway’s doing.
#i have! so many questions!!! about where the fuck janeway is in picard!!!!#but good god wherever she is she's proud as FUCK of seven#and ofc the janewayification of seven in voyager is a huge theme in the latter seasons!!!#they weren't trying to hide it!!!#but guys i'm getting a tear whenever seven does something 'inefficient' to help someone and doesn't even realize#we help each other#whenever we can#and my god it's something she just internalizes#i'm rewatching the one in s7 where her cortical implant fails and they're all pretty sure she's gonna die#and she apologizes to janeway for - she earnestly believes - not having fulfilled her expectations#and janeway is STUNNED#like - this is what you're afraid of??#and ofc there's the hint of the darker idea of who seven actually is vs. who she was shaped into becoming#but i'd also argue that the fact that seven is so earnestly burdened by this speaks not just to her attachment to janeway#but also to a deep deep desire regarding the question of who she wants to be#and janeway's response - that seven has exceeded her expectations but more importantly she's her friend#and THAT'S why she's important to janeway -#is also precisely the point#hmm anyway i love them ur honor#thank u tv gods for giving us voyager at the right time bc i have no interest at all in whatever gritty take we'd get today#compassion and helping each other and things working out is literally all i want from this show#well except for... u know... the obvious#j7#voyager
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Eri has finally cracked it.
All along the edges of half-baked lesson plans, descriptions of jutsu that she's never heard of and seals curling in on themselves forever, Uzumaki Raiko had laid out the future.
She knew about the Kyuubi attack.
She knew that- No. Eri can't tell him. It would- no. He's doing... He's doing better now, so much better, this would-
What horrible things to know. Is this why Sensei left?
Sensei's plans all seemed geared to stopping the Kyuubi attack. Everything that 'happens' after that is less detailed, a bullet point list rather than a terrible story
She'd predicted Kakashi and all that... Well, she'd known about Tenzou. The Sandaime hadn't even known about Tenzou, the boys had said.
Naruto seven. Shisui dies in ambush. Uchiha Massacre.
Naruto Uzumaki is seven years old. Fuck, sensei had been gone before Kushina-san was even pregnant, how did she-
Uchiha Massacre. That sounds. Bad. Sure, they're not the most... Well-liked, but...
Before that, though, there is only one Uchiha that Eri knows of that is named Shisui. They most definitely do not move in the same circles, but someone that high profile... Surely everyone would have heard if that guy was dead?
---
Eri never saw herself becoming a stalker.
She never saw this coming either. She'd thought that Muta was dead, dead, dead, but that was definitely his chakra behind the mask and his sword in her stomach and his voice saying, "Stay put," like she's some kind of dog, and gods, Eri has never been so angry in her entire life.
That fucking traitor.
Unfortunately for what is definitely fate trying to stay true to form, Muta's out of the fucking loop.
---
Stasis seals don't fix anything, and she does still have to move carefully, slowly, and she tracks that bastard down to see Shunshin no Shisui on his knees, and she should have sent a pigeon, fuck-
The first training session Team Two ever had, Sensei made them do the Kawarimi until they threw up.
Eri kind of wants to throw up now. Her (empty) eye is burning. And then-
---
This guy. Really is an elite. Not even a moment and he's back on his feet and whooshing them away.
He's holding her princess style. She does not feel very princessy right now. Actually, she's going to-
---
She does not throw up all over the fastest man alive, but it is a very near thing.
He holds her hair out of her face. That's nice of him.
She is so fucking-
---
The infamous Shunshin no Shisui looks, to her professional eye, almost as bad as she feels. He's very pale and she can't tell which one of them is shaking worse and he's staring at her like she has, like, three heads or something.
This is not a genjutsu, Uchiha. Your eyes are not necessary.
"Kakashi." She starts, and abruptly feels very proud of how steady her voice is. She doesn't feel very steady. She's pretty sure that she's older than this guy, though, so she's got to be steady. Gotta be steady...
"Kakashi." What was she going to say again?
Shisui shuts his gaping mouth. And opens it. And shuts it.
Finally, leadingly, "Kakashi...?"
"Kakashi," she says, grabbing her thoughts with all the strength blood-loss has left her, "is going to be so mad at me."
Shisui makes a very strange noise. He's also started to look blurry, which is, in her professional opinion, not a good sign.
"I need to go to the hospital," she decides. Not... Wherever they are. There's a river.
Shisui jumps like he's been electrocuted. That would be funny. She should learn some lightning jutsu. Sensei was good at them. She could Thunder Dome Muta. Bastard. A thousand smites upon him, or whatever Sensei used to say...
---
She wakes up in the hospital, feeling somehow even shittier than she did...?
Whatever. Shisui is still here. He doesn't look dead.
"Sensei better be proud of me," she mumbles thickly, and goes right the fuck back to sleep.
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Wolf!Ateez Reaction to random ,poking‘ on the nose
warnings: strong language, suggestive, smut, violence, dominance
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k i m h o n g j o o n g
„Didn’t I say stay at home when there’s alarm?“
You roll with your eyes while picking up more herbs from the garden. Sensing the big wolf behind you becoming restless makes you smirk mischievously.
You bend down to pick up a flower when you can feel a warm and wet snout tickling your (in comparison) small face.
„Hong Joong! Stop haha.“ You’re giggling profusely while the wolf doesn’t stop until you are on the ground with him on top of you licking your face.
„You won’t listen to me so there’s punishment.“
„Noo, wait! Pl - please...“ After a while your mate finally stops and you try to catch your breath again. Leaning up on your arms a little bit you watch the big eyes of the wolf interested.
With a small smile you ‚boop‘ his nose and laugh. The wolf sneezes and shakes his head to lick you all over the face.
„Ew, Hong Joong!“
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p a r k s e o n g h w a
„Stop following me around!“
The wolf behind you doesn’t stop when you shout at him per mind link. Everyone knew that Park Seong Hwa was head over heels for you. Well, he was your mate after all...
But, you didn’t want to be mated so early. You wanted to see the world first and liked to have your space and freedom. Seong Hwa‘a attitude on the other hand screamed „let’s build a family and live in a house and visit our parents every weekend so our children can play and...“.
He didn’t say this but he gave of the attitude.
Anyways, after telling the boy you needed a week for yourself first - which he respected - the urge to see you and be close to his mate grew inexorable after seven days passed.
No matter if in your wolf or as a human Seong Hwa followed you everywhere. Even now very early at your morning run.
You stopped in your tracks after a few attempts of shaking off the wolf. „Ok, listen. I want to be along right now... understood?“
Seong Hwa tilts his head at your statement and huffs out not agreeing with it.
„I - I just want to make sure you’re ok...“
When his head starts to hang your wolf ushers you to react to his cuteness. His heartwarming words make you take a step to him and you touch his snout with your own.
Seong Hwa seems to purr at the contact and his eyes shine at you with happiness. „Shit, I don’t think I can be angry with you...“
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j e o n g y u n h o
„You look like a bunny.“ He says when you look up to him from the ground and he places the tip of his index lightly on your nose.
A frown develops on your face while you watch how the smirk on Yun Ho‘s face only brightens.
„Mhh - mhg.“
„Ah, yes...“ Yun Ho‘s hips buckle and with a light push he grabs the back of your head holding you still. You can feel the liquid filling up your mouth while butterflies and lust roam your body.
With a bop Yun Ho let’s go of your hair and breaths hard while you’re looking like a mess kneeing on the ground. His gaze drifts to your slip where he can see the wetness from your neediness.
„I should take care of that, right?“
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k a n g y e o s a n g
„You have such a cute nose...“ Yeo Sang eyes you suspiciously and puts down the book he was currently reading.
„Stop embarrassing me.“ You pout at his answer but seem to smile anyways while admiring his beauty.
Other students are watching the two of you being completely head over heels for the young couple of their prestigious school.
„I don’t get why she’s with him. He’s a dick.“
Some of the girls and boys turn around shock evident on their faces. „He’s Kang Yeo Sang. And (y/l/n) (y/n) the only girl that can warm his heart of ice. It’s so romantic!“ Girls are squeaking at the sight of you still talking while Yeo Sang pretends to read his book.
He’s listening to you of course. You’re his beloved mate and always shining like a star in his seemingly dark world.
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c h o i s a n
You’re pushing the boy on the bed with a little to much force. Straddling his waist you make sure he gets rid of his shirt and stop yourself from drooling when you see his abs.
„God damn, you’re hot Choi San!“
He frowns at you and smirks while grabbing your waist. „Like this is a secret.“
You start to kiss upwards from his hips while listening to the sweet little moans he gives you. His head is tilted back and eyes closed completely in the bliss of your touches.
Suddenly he flinches when you bop his nose and kiss his soft and slightly opened lips. „The coolest Choi San... proud first wolf of the guards... letting out so cute noses when his mate is touching him.“
You cannot stop the giggle the escapes while San realizes what you just said to him. With a harsh tug he turns you over and pins your hands over your head on the cushion. His eyes turn into a golden color and he leans down to breath your scent in.
„You know my secret. Let’s see what sounds you make when you can’t walk anymore.“
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s o n g m i n g i
„Okay guys! That’s enough for today.“ Everyone claps at Min Gi‘s words and his nose easily catches your scent when the wind turns.
You jog to him happily while he gets rid of his shirt to get ready for a shower after the hard training. „Oh, wait. Baby I am so sweaty...“ You pout and get on your tiptoes motioning for him to take you into his embrace.
A huge and goofy smile appears on the strong wolf‘s face while he enjoys the scent you’re giving off and the feeling of your skin on his.
„Did you already take a run, princess?“
„No, that’s why I am here. We could go to the lake y‘know?“ You bite your lips at the suggestion leaving Min Gi furrow his eyebrows at you.
Suddenly he kisses the tip of your nose to which your cheeks heat up immediately. You quickly find the ground really interesting when Min Gi moves your head up by placing his index under your chin.
„You’re so cute, (y/n)... then come on!“
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j u n g w o o y o u n g
„You fucking idiot!“ With a strong push your fist lands on Woo Young‘s nose to which the boy yells out and angrily changes into his wolf.
You follow soon after and the much bigger wolf starts to circle your form while some of your teachers stand in the back watching the scene on the field bored.
„How dare you hurt my precious nose?!“ Woo Young launches at you but you’re quick to jump away.
„You shouldn’t stick your nose into things that aren’t your business!“
The wolf growls at you and eyes you down while his canines flash angrily.
„Not my business?“ He emphasizes every word while taking more steps to your form.
„Every female in this pack is my business. You are my business!“
„Oh shut the fuck up.“
„Oh god, hopefully they won’t become mates.“ An elderly woman turns around to laugh at the others. „I think our alpha could need some excitement.“
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c h o i j o n g h o
You were a human. Well, technically you always believed so. It was the moment Jong Ho couldn’t hold himself back in the forest when you already spotted him.
Carefully reaching out of the bushes he howled to show you he wasn’t anything of a threat. You on the other hand were like glued to the ground watching the enormous wolf with big eyes.
Jong Ho couldn’t hold himself back to reach your form and nuzzle his snout in your neck although feeling your distress and fear.
Mate. He found his mate.
He sat down in front of you waiting for any reaction and frowned when you didn’t do anything.
„You won’t go right? You want to be petted?“
Jong Ho understands that you’re probably not aware... he is sad but also relived when you start to caress his fur and ears and has to suppress his purr when lay your palm flat on his snout and let him breath and feel the touch of your skin.
You start to smile when the wolf becomes impatient and rolls his head in the way you’re back to having him in your arms and stroking wherever you’re able to.
„Good boy!“
„Mh, it’s a good start...“
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↺ back to navi
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#ateez wolf#ateez wolf au#ateez reaction#ateez reactions#ateez writings#ateez writing#ateez smut au#ateez smut#ateez werewolf au#ateez werewolf#ateez x reader#ateez mate au#ateez mate
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Fire on Fire - Chapter Six
this is finally going somewhere! i had to cut this chapter in two otherwise it would have been six thousand words so… sorry for the cut😬
Warning for sucidal thoughts in this chapter.
chapter five // chapter seven
“She did not!” Aelin laughed loudly, still in her nightclothes. “Why do we always miss that?”
“Miss what?” Sam asked as he entered the room, two bowls of cereals in his hands. He gave one to Lysandra and brought two spoons so Aelin could eat in his bowl. Lysandra and Aelin just woke up, it was four in the afternoon and Aelin didn’t eat anything since last night, so she was starving.
Aelin, Lysandra, Nehemia, and Sam might have partied a little too hard last night. So this morning, Aelin and Lysandra decided to stay home. Sam didn’t look happy about Aelin missing class but he didn’t say anything, knowing Aelin’s mind was made. He came back from school an hour ago and woke them up.“Gods, I love these cereals,” she moaned at the taste. Aelin loved food, and it showed on her body. The only good thing about her injury is that now she didn’t have to pay attention to everything she ate to fit in stupid costumes. She might miss dancing but she loved food more.
“I finished the last box, by the way.”
Aelin nodded, making a mental note she’ll have to ask Quinn to go grocery shopping as soon as she could.
“Leave me some, Lys,” Nehemia said as she threw herself on Aelin’s bed. She was glad to have a gigantic bed when the four of them were home, which is almost all the time lately. Nehemia threw her hair behind her shoulder, silently asking her friends to pay attention to them.
“That color suits you, Mia,” Aelin smiled and it was genuine. Nehemia had fresh new braids, they started black but ended in a deep ocean blue. The girl never wanted boring colors in her hair and almost everything suited her. Lysandra and Sam agreed with her, making Nehemia smile arrogantly. But Aelin knew that Nehemia was hiding a real smile behind that.
“Might dye my hair blue to match you,” Aelin said and Nehemia looked thrilled.
“Don’t you dare!” Sam said, turning to Aelin and almost spilling the cereals and milk on her bed. “Your hair is so pretty. Buy a wig but don’t you dare dye it.”
“Excuse me?”
He pouted, “Please?” Even with this ridiculous face, he stayed beautiful. She loved the twinkle of mischief, the hint of exasperation at her, and the kindness that made her feel good, the kindness that made her want to be the best person she could be.
“Okay,” She sighed and he had a victorious smile drawn on his face. “Let’s go for the wig.”
He smiled and kissed her, pout-ring all his love for her in it. She could spend years kissing him. “You two are gross,” Lysandra complained, Sam and Aelin pulled apart and Aelin sent her best friend a vulgar gesture.
“Anyway, Lys, what did we miss?” Sam asked again, this boy was the most curious of the four. He liked to hear gossip about everyone.
“Ansel was high at Nox’s party two days ago.” Aelin was sad they missed a party just to be at a Gala, but her parents were home for once and demanded that she was with them.
“You’re joking?” Nehemia asked and laughed as she took Lysandra’s spoon to eat some cereals. The brunette threw the dark-skinned girl a look that promised violence.
“You’ll never see me taking drugs, that’s for sure,” Aelin sighed and rested her head on Sam’s shoulder. “God, I already regret drinking twice in a week.”
“Good,” Sam said and she rolled her eyes.
The four friends spent hours talking and laughing together. They practically all lived at her home, anyway. Sam and Lysandra’s families were fucked up enough, so they spent their time here. Nehemia’s parents worked too much to notice that she didn’t come home most nights. Aelin’s parents were never here either, so she welcomed the company.
When it started getting dark outside, Aelin’s phone rang. She had no idea who called her but it could be one of her parents, calling her from wherever they were now or even Aedion who had a habit to lose his phone.
“Hello?”
“Aelin?” A deep voice asked and Aelin thought she recognized it in the back of her brain but she couldn’t put a name on who it belonged to.
“I’m not trying to be rude but, who are you?”
The man laughed and the sound gave her chills. “It’s Arobynn Hamel. Your mother was supposed to give you my phone number but I guess she forgot.”
Her body froze. Arobynnn Hamel. Of course, she knew that voice, she had watched enough interviews of him to become familiar with it, she even met him two days ago. She sat straighter in her bed, attracting the worried gaze of her three friends. With a more serious face than they had ever seen, Aelin motioned for them to remain silent.
“Oh gods, I’m sorry, Mister Hamel. She didn’t give me your number, I’m very sorry.” She was so embarrassed, Mala knew how much Aelin would be mad at her mom for it. Her friends looked surprised at who called her.
“Calm down, Aelin. It’s okay.” He comforted her as he laughed softly. “And call me Arobynn.”
“Alright.” She said and waited for him to explain why he was calling her, not that she wasn’t happy about it because she was. She just knew she would embarrass herself if she opened her mouth and started talking.
“Are you doing anything tomorrow night?” He asked and Aelin furrowed her brows. That was weird but exciting at the same time.
“No, I am free. Why?”
“We didn’t have a lot of time to talk Saturday and I think it’s a shame. I am still in Orynth for two days and would like to talk with you. Your mother told me you wanted to be an author or work in the publishing industry, is it true?”
“Yes,” it was the fastest answer of her life. Yes, she had always dreamed of working around books.
“From what I’ve heard, Aelin Galathynius, you are special. I’d like to see that by myself. Allow me to take you out for dinner tomorrow and we can talk about your future.”
If Arobynn Hamel helped her… She could become a successful author. She could picture it, a small house, Sam at her side, a study full of books she wrote, a life away from the spotlight, a happy life. It’s exactly what she wanted. Special, he thought she was special.
“Dress code?”
He laughed again and Aelin couldn’t help but smile. “Something like the dress you had on Saturday should be good. I’ll pick you up at seven, is it good for you?”
“Perfect.”
They hung up and she looked at her friend, still surprised, and smile. She was thoughtfully happy.
“Aelin?” Aedion asked, tearing her from her daydream. “You there?”
“Sorry. What is it?” She was tired and hungover, she didn’t get lots of sleep last night and she was feeling the effects. Dorian had left early this morning, long before anyone woke up. It was better than having to face Aedion’s judgmental looks.
“I asked if your scholarship got renewed for next year, Lysandra got the answer in the mail yesterday so you’re supposed to have yours too, right?” She looked up from her bowl of cereals, confused for a second. When she met Rowan Whitethorn’s face, with the same confused expression as her, she remembered.
Lysandra, Aedion, and everyone else believed she got a scholarship, frankly, she had no idea how they believed her. But they never had a reason to distrust her, that’s probably the reason.
Most of her relation with Arobynn was secret and the money he spent on her was part of the lie.
“Yeah, everything is taken care of.” She smiled, it was the truth in a way. She dared to look at Rowan and she didn’t why, didn’t know how, but she knew he didn’t believe her. She could see it in his frown and eyes.
“Good,” her cousin smiled as he drank his coffee.
She smiled back, he was worried for her, she knew it. It’s exactly why she didn’t tell him anything, he didn’t need the stress. “I’ve got everything under control.”
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“What are you still doing here?” Arobynn asked, startling Aelin. She had been too busy on her computer to hear him coming. “It’s past nine, we finished hours ago.”
They both had worked for hours today and she was tired. “What are you still doing here?” She asked.
“I asked first, darling.” He sat in his chair in front of her. She was still in her seat, the chair almost belonged to her for all the time she spent on it. She wanted to be annoyed at him but today had been different. He had been different. He wasn’t the Arobynn she had known years ago but he was close, closer than he usually was lately. Aelin was pretty sure he hadn’t had a drink all day, which could explain his mood. That was a good thing.
“I’m writing and waiting for my cousin to check his damn phone so he can pick me up.”
“Where’s your car?”
“Broken,” she grilled through her teeth. The damn truck had decided not to work this morning, causing Aelin to have a nervous breakdown. “A friend of mine had a look at it and told me it would cost me more to repair it than to buy a new one, so here I am, depending on my cousin.” She hated it, hated to depend on someone. But it seemed to happen a lot lately, so she might have to get used to it. “What are you doing here?” She repeated.
“My meeting lasted two hours,” he said, his voice hard.
“Ah, sucks when you have to actually do your job, right?” She remarked and didn’t know if it was a reproach for the way he over-worked her or a teasing. Maybe both, she didn’t want to wonder about it too much.
“Someone’s feisty today,” he joked and she fought a small smile. “Ready for Monday?”
“I already told you no, Arobynn.”
“Why not? You finish the school year in four days.”
“I have a job, Arobynn. I can’t just-”
“Everything’s taken care of.” He cut her off with a smile. It was the kind of smile that told her he had done something and was feeling rather proud of it.
“What.”
“Did you know Rofle was my friend? After a drink or two, he agreed to let you come back in September, right after your internship at Hamel Publishing.”
“And you did that after I told you no?” Her tone was rising. “And are you friends with everyone here?”
He rose from his seat to stand right before her. She had to raise her head to look him in the eye. One of his calloused hands rested on her cheek, caressing her cheekbone. "You know how powerful I am." She did, Arobynn wasn’t just a successful author or the CEO of a publishing company, those were just hobbies for him. He had grown up in a rich family, had been raised to be like every rich people. He had learned how fake smiles and words were weapons, how to manipulate people. He had a way to manipulate everyone he called his friends, whether it was a picture, a video, or a letter. He had something on everyone. “I once promised you I would make you shine, Aelin. I won’t let a shitty job ruin that promise.” For years he had told her she was special, he had told her she could reach the stars should she just let him help her. And for years she had believed him, so she decided to do it again. She only nodded and it seemed to be enough for him.“I’m calling a cab for you.”
“No.”
“No?” His voice was surprised. “Is it because of the money?”
“For fuck sake Arobynn I can afford a cab ride,” that was a total lie, but he didn’t need to know that. “I just… can’t.”
Understanding and pity flashed on Arobynn’s face and she had to keep herself from yelling at him for it. “You still can’t?”
“I don’t wanna talk about it.” She said voice hard that didn’t let room for questions.
“Pack your things, I’ll drive you.” This was what Arobynn from four years ago would have said, what the Arobynn she had come to know would have said. In a flicker of hope, she said yes. Hope that she could erase what happened between them, that she would forget like Arobynn repeatedly asked her to, and just start again because she didn’t know how to survive another person leaving her.
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It was the middle of the night when Rowan heard her cries.
At first, he had ignored them, trying to give her privacy. It was unusual of her to let someone hear her, so Rowan thought it might be very bad. But after five minutes of cries, he couldn’t stay in his bed anymore.
When he walked into her room, his heart broke a little. She was in bed, sleeping, trashing against the sheets, crying, and trying to talk. Even with only the light from the bathroom, he could see the pain written all over her face.
He couldn’t take it, he couldn’t just walk back to his room and ignore her. So, he shook her shoulder, trying to wake her up but it didn’t work. She kept jerking in her bed as if she was fighting with the pillows and her blanket.
“Aelin,” he said, using both his hands to shake her. “Aelin,” he repeated louder. Her eyes jerked open, she turned her head several times, trying to figure out where she was. Her whole body shook and a second later she leaned over the bed and vomited her guts out. Rowan held her hair back, avoiding touching her directly so as not to overwhelm her.
When she lay back down in bed, she was still crying, her limbs shaking as if she were hypothermic even though Rowan could see the sweat glistening on her skin.
Rowan had only seen one person look so wrecked in his entire life, himself. He saw it every time he woke up and looked into the mirror. It was worse ten years ago because he had no idea how to hide it, in a decade he learned how to conceal everything. How to recognize which night was most likely to give him a nightmare, learned how to stay quiet while he felt like dying inside.
“You should take a shower,” Rowan said, voice softer than he has ever used with her. He had been wrong, so wrong.
“I don’t think I have the strength.”
“To shower?” He asked but there was no judgment, he only wanted to make sure.
“To live.” Her small voice broke and his heart did too. When she looked up at him, eyes filled with tears, Rowan didn’t see anything but desperation and loathing. He knew it wasn’t directed at him but at herself.
“Come here,” he said as he slid his arms under her body. “We’re gonna clean you up, okay?” He lifted her up from her bed, avoiding the content of her stomach on the floor as her weak arms curled around his neck and he guided her to the bathroom.
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@sheharahu // @morganofthewildfire // @thestoriesyoutell // @fromthelibraryofemilyj // @swankii-art-teacher // @itsforeverinnocent-blog // @becarefuloflove // @imnotsogoodatthis // @rowaelinismyotp // @a-court-of-milkandhoney // @feysand-loml // @surielandiareendgame // @live-the-fangirl-life // @story-scribbler // @loves-books // @fangirlprincess09 // @theysayitscrazy
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👼Home Is Wherever I'm With You (Alice Macray)[NSFW]👼
Alice Macray x Fem!reader
👼Part 2 of SP getting reader pregnant👼
👼Wordcount: 2714👼
👼Posted on AO3: Read Here👼
👼Content: Fluff, some angst, homophobia, Phyllis and Alice's husband are trash garbage, some smut, strap-on, wlw magic, pregnancy, Alice is an angel, mentions of religion.👼
👼There was one person who never left your side though, even if it meant they were put in the firing path of Phyllis, and that was Alice. She, in all her sweet innocence, didn’t understand why it was such a big deal that you happened to like women, surely if God didn’t want the “lovely lgbts” then he wouldn’t have created them. Alice was religious, went to church on Sundays, said grace before eating, prayed before bed, but she wasn’t the type to go around telling people that they were sinning or judge them because they weren’t religious, if anything, she just wanted people to be happy.👼
It had been a number of years since you had moved to a slightly more progressive part of town, ever since Phyllis found out that you had – as she put it – “homosexual inclinations” it was made very clearly that you were no longer welcome in that area. And because she ruled with an iron-fist, no one dared to speak out against her, even if they had said to you in private that you were still the same wonderful person they had always known.
There was one person who never left your side though, even if it meant they were put in the firing path of Phyllis, and that was Alice. She, in all her sweet innocence, didn’t understand why it was such a big deal that you happened to like women, surely if God didn’t want the “lovely lgbts” then he wouldn’t have created them. Alice was religious, went to church on Sundays, said grace before eating, prayed before bed, but she wasn’t the type to go around telling people that they were sinning or judge them because they weren’t religious, if anything, she just wanted people to be happy.
It had hurt when you moved because you had grown close with Alice and her kids, even if her husband harboured ill feelings towards you because you were a “dyke” and “we can’t let our children around that dyke, Alice” but she managed to calm him down enough so that you could still come around. But you hadn’t seen Alice and the kids much since moving, and you missed them something wicked. Yes you had spoken to them, mainly Alice, on the phone but it was brief and happened very rarely. You missed her. You missed them.
The days where she called you had you wanting them to last forever, you could wander around your home just listening to her talk about how things were going, how much she enjoyed her job, how the kids were doing in school. You found yourself feeling like a high schooler talking to their crush after school on the phone, laying down on your bed with the dumbest grin on your face. However, that grin changed to a shocked expression when you let slip how you feel about her. “Alice, fuck – sorry I know you don’t like swearing but… Alice, I love you so much and I miss you, I miss being around you and being with the kids. It’s been miserable not being able to see you, but-“ you hear a sharp intake of breath “I- I’m sorry, I have to go.” Before the line goes dead.
Seven months, twelve days, thirteen hours, and fifteen minutes it had been since that call and you hadn’t heard from her. You weren’t usually the type to count these things, even when you had important events to look forward to, you wouldn’t count down the days. You guess it was some form of way to torture yourself, counting the length of time since you fucked up one of the few good things you still had in life. She was radiant like an angel, put the beauty of the moon to shame, and you- you were like a horseman of the apocalypse, ruining everything you touched. Maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration, you haven’t ruined everything you touch but you certainly have relationship wise.
You had a few spare rooms in your house, you’d hoped that one day you would be able to have your own family, a bedroom for each kid: two bedrooms and one room as the nursery. No, that was a lie, you had dreamed about having Alice live with you - be with you – the boys would have their own rooms to decorate how they please (under the watchful eye of Alice) and… a nursery so you and Alice could have a child together, so that the boys would have a little sister (hopefully) to protect from the big kids.
To be honest, you had already started making renovations on the house so that it would be better suited for a family like that anyway, the bedrooms had a fresh coat of paint, nothing that was specifically catered to boys or girls – you wanted the kids to pick the colour themselves if they wanted a change – and made sure the windows had latches to prevent them from opening too far so that no one could fall out of them.
You were most proud of the kitchen though; it was your pride and joy of the entire property. That’s where you currently find yourself, applying the final sealing coat on the marble countertop so that no liquid seeps into the pores of the material. You had music playing through the radio, just loud enough to drown out the sound of the odd car that drove by. You were humming along to this when you heard the doorbell ring, this surprised you because not many people stopped round to your place, and if they did they would usually knock. You put the paintbrush in the sink and put the lid back onto the tin of sealant before you made your way over to the door. You didn’t bother to check your appearance or anything because you thought it was probably some girl scouts or a random, so in all your messy renovation glory you swung the door open to greet whoever was on the other side.
“Hi there, what can I-“ Your voice catches in your throat and colour rushes to your cheeks as you lay eyes on the woman before you. Now you were wishing you had at least wiped the sweat from your face and the grime from your hands.
“Hi… I- I know we- I know I haven’t spoken to you since…well…” She trails off quietly, looking down. You bite your bottom lip slightly and shake your head, willing the tears to remain unshed “It’s- It’s fine Alice, really. It’s in the past… You don’t need to explain yourself. It’s fine.” The older woman shakes her head and looks at you again, her eyes glistening slightly “I want to. Can- can I come in, please?”
You step back and hold the door open so she can make her way inside, closing and locking the door behind her before leading her to the lounge. “I- I wanted to apologise for hanging up the way I did…and for leaving your life without saying anything.” She takes a seat in an arm chair, hands immediately starting to fiddle with the cushion “I just- I didn’t- I don’t”
“You don’t feel the same way. I- I know. It’s okay. I- I got over most of the hurt-“
“No- no that’s not what I meant. I didn’t understand why you felt that way and- and I didn’t understand why I- why I” she shakes her head, her grip on the cushion tightening before she blurts out “why I felt something I hadn’t felt since the joy I felt when I had my boys.” She lets out a sob and buries her face in her hands as she starts crying.
You rush over to her and wrap your arms around her gently, rubbing her back as you hush her gently. “It’s okay, it’s okay. Shhh… It’s okay, Alice” She moves so she can hug you tight, burying her face in your shirt as she continues crying. “hey, hey it’s okay. It’ll be okay. Shhh.. It’s okay, Alice.” You continue rubbing her back, only slowing down more as her breathing starts to return to normal. “There we go, there we go. It’s okay. It’ll be okay.”
She doesn’t pull back but you hear her mumble out “my- my husband- ex… he- he found me crying after the call and he asked why. I- I told him that it- it was because I think I- I was in…love with someone else. A- A woman… And- and he” she lets out a sob before continuing “he told me how- how disgusting I- I am. That- that I was going to- to ruin my- my kids. We- He filed for divorce a few weeks later… It’s- it’s supposed to be split custody but- but I guess the boys like me more so- so they stay with me a majority of the time. They asked why I was so sad, why I didn’t bake apple pie as much anymore, why I- why I never called you. I didn’t answer them for so long, just- just said it was some- some trial that God was putting me through. But… a few days ago they asked again, and- and the looks in their eyes…” she lets out a bit of a laugh “they looked like they wouldn’t judge me no matter what I said, they- they really are my boys. So…I told them.”
Your breath catches and you still your movements before continuing, encouraging Alice to continue. “I told them everything. Well- well excluding what their father said about- about me. I just- I said that their father didn’t- didn’t approve of- of who I had…fallen in love with. They- they were confused and asked how it was possible for someone to- to fall in love when already married. I said sometimes- sometimes it happens and that it- it doesn’t mean I never loved their father, but I had discovered that- that maybe I…liked women. A woman. Gosh… You should’ve seen the looks on their face, it was like I’d given them their birthday presents early. I hadn’t even told them who but… they’re so wonderful.”
She pulls back and wipes her eyes on her sleeve, giving you a small smile “I told them that the woman I was- I am in love with is you. That- that I hadn’t known what to do so that’s why I was sad for so long because I just… Anyway… They said I was silly and should go tell you everything because they miss you and want to see me happy again.”
You blush deeply and look away, a shy smile settling on your lips before Alice gently turns your head to face her. “I- I love you, yn.” She leans in and tentatively brushes her lips against yours before kissing you, you gasp softly in shock before melting into the kiss.
One year, three months, two weeks, three days, and nine hours. That’s how long Alice and her boys – your boys – have been living with you for. After she kissed you that day, she asked if she could make love to you but emphasised that you would have to guide her because she’d never been with another woman. Alice was a quick learner and once she had a solid understanding of what you enjoyed…she made it very clear that she was the one in charge in the bedroom. This surprised you but you weren’t going to complain, if the love of your life wanted to be called “Miss” in the bedroom and boss you around, you bet your fucking ass you’re going to do just that. Although she did burst into tears after you went down on her because she didn’t know something like that was supposed to feel that good.
She asked you why there was an empty room one day while the boys were at tutoring, and you told her it was because you hoped to have a baby one day… Hopefully with her. She was shocked and had blushed profusely but the smile on her face reassured you she wasn’t put off by the idea. You said you knew it wouldn’t actually be possible for her to get you pregnant but you saw a fierce determination in her eyes that made you feel like she would find a way. Alice didn’t bring it up again for quite some time, and you didn’t press about it either, just put it down to her having forgotten or maybe not actually being into the idea.
One evening while the boys were at their fathers Alice said she had something to show you, said it was really important. When you walked into the bedroom you nearly choked on your bottled water, Alice was standing there, looking down as she adjusted - what appeared to be a strap-on – to fit her comfortably. She still had her simple white bra on but to you she still looked sexy, with or without clothing you were attracted to her; the look of utter concentration on her face made you giggle though, drawing her attention to you, a blush settling on her face as she smiles.
“I- Hi. I- So I did some… I did things to try and- and figure out if there was a way I could get you…pregnant… And- well, I know you don’t always come to church but- No I didn’t ask around church, silly. Every time I prayed, I asked for there to be a time where it would be possible for me to get you pregnant, so- so I could have a baby with the woman I love. And- and so it turns out that tonight is that night. I saw a sign, and I know that sounds cra-“ You cut her off with a deep and slow kiss, hands cupping her cheeks gently before you pull back “Alice, baby, nothing you say sounds crazy to me.”
She blushes more and flusters a bit before continuing “I saw a sign, well- well what I hope was one and knew that it would be possible tonight. That- that it would be possible for me to- to” she tears up, some tears spilling onto her cheeks which you wipe away gently “to get you pregnant so we can have our baby.” You sniffle a little, having teared up at her words “Alice… You’re so- you’re so wonderful. Please take me to bed, make- make love to me.”
Alice takes your hand in hers gently and leads you to your shared bed where she lays you down gently on it before crawling on top of you, her hand stroking your cheek gently. “I love you so much, yn.”
“I love you too, Alice.”
You looked up at the woman you loved, her hand ghosting gently between your legs and roaming over your body before she starts to remove your clothing, kissing your skin as each item is removed. She trails kisses up your thighs before moving up to kiss you, her lips were still sweet from the dessert she had made, her tongue slips between her lips and runs against your bottom lip before you part them to brush your tongue over hers, you both moaning at the feeling. A gasp falls from your lips when you feel her touch your slit, fingers rubbing your clit lightly before dipping the tips of two into your pussy.
“You make the most beautiful noises, my love.”
There had never been a moment before now where you had felt so much love when having sex with someone. It wasn’t only because your girlfriend had managed to find a way to try having a baby with you – having her baby, it was because there wasn't a single moment the entire night where the love in her eyes disappeared.
You wouldn’t know if Alice’s prayers had been heard until you took a pregnancy tests a few days later, but there was a feeling in your bones that made you think that things would work out – that you would have her baby. On the off chance, or more likely chance, that you didn’t get pregnant, that would be okay too. Your sweet Alice would probably try her best to find another way though, she was determined like that.
You and Alice both shared a nice bubble bath after your lovemaking, just enjoying being in each other’s arms. “Alice baby, I love you so much. Thank you for tonight. Thank you for coming back to me. Just- just thank you.” She hums softly in response, her eyes drifting closed “I love you too, Yn. I’d always find my way back to you anyway.” You press a kiss to her head, enjoying the feeling of being content and happy with a woman you love, and with the chance of being pregnant with her child.
#Alice macray#Alice macray imagine#Alice macray x reader#sarah paulson#sarah paulson imagine#sarah paulson x reader
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← Chapter 1 →
They Call It Teyvat…
⇥ fem!reader x genshin men ⇤
(n) a homesickness for a home you can’t return to, or that never was.
Synopsis: It felt like a dream when you first arrived to this odd land. No clue on how you got there- let alone leave. Soon enough, you met Paimon and started the journey of finding all the archons of Teyvat. Along the way, you catch the eyes of numerous men… to your demise.
Word Count: 1.6k
Warning(s): Nothing really! Mentions of Venti, Dvalin, dresses, etc.
A/N: ITS FINALLY HERE! I’m sorry, I closed the requests just so I could work on this crap. Anyways this is just pt. 1 to many chapters. Enjoy!! Really though, enjoy!
“Hey… I need you to wake up now. I know it might be hard…”
A thousand voices rang through your mind, getting lost in a sea of voices. The one that called out was different then the rest. Calmer, quieter… more desperate.
“Wake up. Wake up. Wake-“
Your mind jolted awake, sweat growing on your forehead and body. What a horrible feeling of waking up to a nightmare, you thought. The voices were still ringing around your mind.
The feel of spikes underneath your fingertips convinced you that this cushioning was not your bed. You came up from the grassy ground, dirt dug deep into your nails.
“I must’ve thought I was clutching my bed sheets..” You thought while scraping away the grim.
But you were right. This in fact was not your bed- nor your bedroom. No. In fact, this was a grassy area in a not too familiar scenery.
It was lushious. Like a calm summer's day. Dew drops on the bright green grass made it almost sparkle in the daylight. And the smell of rain could be smelled. Fresh in the air.
Oh, this was most definitely not your home…
Goodness what were you doing here? Your mind tried to trail back to what you could remember. And you could only think of bits and pieces.
You remembered pitch black; owls howling in the nearby trees. Remembering that you cried asleep.
“Thinking back isn’t going to help me, wherever the hell I am…”
You thought. Inside, you were panicking. This was not your home. It was strange, nothing looked familiar to you. And yet it felt familiar.
This place, this time. It feels too nostalgic for you to say it’s new. To say it’s unfamiliar.
“Oh, my god it looks like I’m stuck in a.. fantasy novel! This scenery is gorgeous.”
It suddenly occurred that you were on a cliff side. You carefully trudged over to the end of the cliff, looking over to see the view. What you could see amazed you..
There were walls. They stood so tall and grand. Peaking over those walls was something to be expected.
It was a city, from the looks of it. Hiding away behind those walls. With even bigger towers and buildings. With windmills! And massive buildings in the back. Maybe they were the important ones.
Wait, what were you doing just standing here like a fool??
There’s civilization out there! And all you could do was gawk like a fish? You embarrassed yourself. Still- that place looked nothing like you’ve ever seen before.
Your first thought was somewhere in Europe. The scenery seemed that way. And from first glance, Germany? Yes. The structures would explain it all!
“heeeeeyy!”
A faint sound ringed from the distance. Coming from the bottom of the cliff. From what you could make out, it was almost like a child.
Children? No, it can’t be. The voice was quite childish, but it couldn’t be. And where they calling out to you?
Suddenly the voice started to grow; louder and louder. Until you could see the face behind the voice.
Whatever it was was tired, screaming, and flying right into you.
Wait-
You fell back with the force from the flying child. The thing fell into your arms, swirls in its eyes and a red bump on its forehead.
It didn’t take long for the thing to wake up, though. Immediately flying up to your confused expression.
“S/O! There you are! Paimon’s been trying to find you everywhere, and this is where you’ve been hiding!?”
It’s face came inches away from your own, huffing in frustration. So far all you could get was that this thing was named Paimon. And it was angry, for some reason.
“I-I’m sorry, Paimon,” you managed to get out, “I just wanted to see the scenery. Y’know?”
She huffed. “And you better be! Now c’mon, I brought you a simple dress for you to wear. Be grateful Paimon is such an amazing companion.”
The flying girl looked proud of herself. Thinking it was stupid of her to be proud of a pointless feat. But then again, she was quite small and frail. You’ll let this slide.
She was right about one thing: you needed to change.
Peering down to your legs, you noticed the attire you were sporting right now. A… hospital gown, from the looks of it.
The fine dress she had picked out for you was decent. Basic and brown with a leather belt. Perfect for being unnoticed. Along with a satchel with simple embroidery. You felt a little worried as to where Paimon might have gotten this from…
“Thanks, Paimon. Uh- should I change here, or?” You asked. She puffed out her cheeks in frustration.
“NO! Are you a savage or something!? Here, Paimon will take you to somewhere remote and then we can go to that city over there. Uhhh, what was it called? Oh yeah, it’s called-“
“Mondstadt. It’s called Mondstadt…”
Rigid bark against your palm went smoothly along the trunk of the tree.
You and your lovely companion, Paimon, had found a spectacle that was still unfamiliar and new. An old statue resting underneath a grand, oak tree: just sitting there while the world went by.
Standing underneath it alone made you feel intimidated. Wondering how the hell a tree could get so big.
“Wow… damn, I wonder how old this girl is..” you said to yourself. “Hey, Paimon? Can you tell me where we are again?”
“Uhhh, Paimon doesn’t know the name. Oh! But Paimon remembers they call this continent Teyvat! That’s about it, though.”
You hummed to yourself.
“Teyvat… wait, a continent? Then that means there’s countries inside of this place. Or whatever this world follows.”
Before you and Paimon left, you had mentioned Mondstadt before she could. Funny- you had never known of that city before and yet the word seemed to fly out of your mouth.
Paimon floated up near your shoulder, looking panicked and scared.
“S/O! I saw something weird in the sky!” She exclaimed, taking a small hand and pointing up towards the clear, blue sky.
You stepped away from the tree to see what she was rambling about.
It was like an instant did the flying green object go by. Leaving you and your floating companion speechless.
“AHHHH- DID YOU SEE THAT!?” Paimon exclaimed while tugging on your sleeve.
You couldn’t help thinking to yourself. “Huh. You don’t see that everyday-“ still in awe at what just happened. “C’mon Paimon! We have to follow whatever that thing is!”
She gasped dramatically. “Follow!? Did you SEE how scary that thing was??”
You rolled your eyes as you stepped up the pace and started jogging. “Paimon, if it is what I think it is; that thing that was in the sky might just be a dragon!”
“AND HOW DOES THAT MAKE IT ANY BETTER!?”
While she groaned in detestment, Paimon quickly trailed behind you. You- being determined to find that dragon- kept running towards the direction it was going.
It took a while, but you stopped in the middle of a thick forest. Hearing grunts of an animal getting louder and louder as you peaked from a nearby tree.
What you saw shocked you; to say the least.
A boy, arms reaching forward near the snout of the dragon. Smoke coming out of its nostrils.
“… Don’t be afraid.” He said, trying to calm the beast.
“… It’s alright now. I’m back.”
You felt something happening crawling on your skin, arms. It was odd. Looking away and at your arms, you finally saw. Eyes widening.
Turquoise veins appeared- running down your arms. Glowing for what seemed like a split second. Soon it stopped. Your veins, disappearing.
The dragon roared. It echoed across the entire forestry. The young boy's arms went to cover himself as the dragon tried to attack.
“Who’s there!?” He called out. The dragon, now enraged, spread its coloured wings and flew off to who knows where. While the boy vanished with a bright light.
The same bright light that you encountered…
“Oh, my god… what the fuck was that?” You were too staggered to mind tongue. Looking back at your arms.
“A-are you ok? Your arms…” Paimon said under her breath.
Ok? Ok wasn’t the word. You were… lost, scared, thunderstruck, worried, anxious, terrified to your wits ends.
But all you said was-
“I remember.”
“So wait, Paimon is confused-“
The day still burned brightly as you walked down yet another gravel path.
“Confused about what? I remember. I remember being in a… hospital. Yeah- a hospital. Also, there were people surrounding me and I just… passed out.”
Your face while rembersing showed Paimon enough to know what you were gonna do.
“Paimon… I have to get back,” you said, “I- I remember, there’s something I need to do!”
The flying toddler was confused and hazy. Get back? Another world?? She didn’t know how to respond to what you were saying at all.
“Uhh- well, if you need to get back home, Paimon might know a way…”
“Really?? What do you got?” You persisted.
“Well, all over Teyvat they mention these deities called the seven archons…”
“Deities…” you mumbled under your breath, thinking out loud.
“A-and they created all the elements of the visions you see today. So, if anybody can get you home, maybe they can…?”
Suddenly, your hands flew to Paimon’s shoulders. A shining beam plastered across your face. Oh yeah, Paimon was scared.
“I’m in a new world full of magic and mystery, trying to find seven gods that might take me months, years, or even DECADES to find… LET’S DO THIS, PAIMON!”
You scurried away. Seemingly towards the massive towers you could see in the distance. Paimon gasped, catching up to you.
“A-are you crazy!? No way you could ever do that! Paimon could never dream of such a… ridiculous thing!!”
Alas, you could not hear her over the feeling of pure excitement and adventure in your eyes. This is just like in the books! Where there’s magic and powers and hidden romance- everything you loved to read!
“Too late! C’mon, let’s get to Mondstat quickly so we can find the first god!”
You ran off ahead. Leaving an annoyed Paimon to trail after you.
Oh yeah, this was most definitely gonna be a journey to remember…
@salami2
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Bay/rise 34!! @brightlotusmoon @errorfreak88 @digitl-art-monstr @selfindulgenz @yarchurr @dakotafinely @yarchurr @sententiously-sarcastic @sprinklestheditty
“This is fucking stupid.” Raph was pacing anxiously, his frustrations coming out in the form of heavy breaths.
“I totally agree.” Donnie agreed, “But you know Leo. He’d not gonna let this go.”
“He he fucking ought to! We ain’t got time for this shit!”
The Leo’s were both separately getting ready for the spar, but with such an open space it was nearly impossible for them to get out of each other's line of sight. This resulted in what could only be described as a heated staring content between the both of them as they sharpened their katana and odachi almost passive-aggressively. The brothers and sister of both proud ninja were intermingled in a group together— their brothers’ antics weren’t enough to drive them apart completely, but it was enough for a wedge to be stuck between them.
“Is Leo gonna be okay?” Michelangelo appealed to Donatello, grabbing a hold of the older teens arm.
“I don’t know Michael.” Donatello sighed, sticking his nose in the air in his frustration, “Leon’s always getting himself in this kind of trouble! It’s gonna catch up to him eventually!”
“Hopefully not today.” Michelangelo said, looking to Leo. “Other Leo is very large. He’s jumbo sized!”
“Sadly, his brain didn't get the memo.”
Mikey was looking between both of the Leo’s with no small amount of guilt. Donnie had given him the clear after he had calmed slightly and the pain in his chest wasn’t so bad, but now the pain had been replaced with an intense sadness. Michelangelo nudged his brother and pointed to the sad box turtle, and then both brothers nodded at each other with similar intent as they marched over and each took a seat beside Mikey.
“Why the long face?” Michelangelo pouted.
“I dunno, Mike, seems kinda… oblong to me.” Donatello motioned vageuly to Mikey’s face.
Mikey gave the slightest chuckle before he started to cry softly. Michelangelo frowned and looked to Donatello, who quickly pulled a tissue from out of his battle shell and offered it to Mikey. Mikey accepted it and, after a moments thought, said,
“You just carry tissues around wherever?”
“I never know when I’ll have to break out the dramatics~!” Donatello struck a pose.
“Are you okay?” Michelangelo gave Mikey a gentle stroke on the shoulder. “You look sad.”
“I’m just… useless.” Mikey hung his head.
That statement caused both Hamato brothers to erupt in loud, overlaying denial as they practically swarmed Mikey trying to convince him otherwise.
“You’re not!”
“You’re really not.”
“You’re incredible!”
“I once tried nunchucks for a day. Hit myself in the head, cried in a corner, slept in said corner. Very traumatizing.”
“You can do lots of things!”
“Except fight, apparently…” Mikey pouted, crossing his arms. “I just watched my dad and your dad get taken and I did nothing!”
“You’re not the only one who did nothing!” Donatello offered.
Michelangelo swatted Donatello and scowled at him a second before turning back to Mikey. “You panicked— that’s nothing to be ashamed of!”
“We were there! We— we could’ve helped stop them! We—“
“What could we have done…?” Michelangelo asked softly, laying a hand on Mikey’s knee.
Mikey gave a long, tired sigh reminiscent of someone far older with many more years of life bearing down on his shoulders. “Nothing.”
“Exactly.” Michelangelo said, “But what we could’ve done is gotten hurt! He took out all your brothers in one swing! All we would’ve ended up doing is getting taken out with them.”
“But don’t you think—“
“Come on.” Mikey’s words were interrupted by his Leo, who had lost what little patience remained as he strutted forward with the confidence of gods. “Let’s get this over with.”
Leo was the first in the dojo and he stood there as if he was still challenging Leonardo to back down at the cost of his honor. Leonardo didn't move from his place where he was still polishing his odachi.
“Well?” Leo prompted, “Come on! You challenged me to this, remember! Don’t you want to defend your honor?”
Leonardo thought for a second, and then shrugged. “Eh, never really had much of that to begin with. And I have all the time in the world baby!”
Despite his words, Leonardo seemed to accept his counterpart's challenge and stood from his seated position, giving his odachi a few experimental swipes before he came to join Leo in the dojo.
“This ain’t gonna end good...” April shook her head. Her face was painted to match Leonardo’s markings and she brandished a blue flag in support. Upon seeing Leonardo entering the dojo, however, she promptly cheered, “WHOOP WHOOP! YOU GOT THIS LEON!”
The rest of the gathered mutants— all except Raphael, who was still sleeping off his exhaustion— gathered in a tight group to watch as the scene unfolded. Donnie split from the group one last time in an attempt to appeal to his brother.
“Leo, this is crazy!” Donnie said, but it was like talking to a wall, “You can’t fight him!”
“Why not?” Leo asked calmly without dignifying Donnie’s concern with even a glance.
“Well, one, he's a child.” Donnie deadpanned, “And two, we need to be focusing on finding Master Splinter.”
“Trust me Don, this isn’t gonna take very long.”
“What you gonna do, punt the fifteen year old?!”
“He’s the one who picked a fight.” Leo growled.
“Yeah. Oh course he did.” Donnie leaned closer to his brother and spoke slowly, as if Leo were dense, “He’s. A. Teenager. A dumb, confident teenager!”
“So are we.”
“We’re gonna be twenty next month— I hardly think it counts!”
Leo didn't respond. He stared forward with a determined look and simply walked away from Donnie, leaving his younger brother staring after him with a frustrated disbelief.
Leo faced his counterpart. “Do you know the duel rights?”
Leonardo shrugged almost cartoonishly.
“Of course not.” Leo sighed, then carried on, “Rule number one: The offending party has the right to an apology and, if it is accepted by the offended party, then the duel will not carry to term.”
“Okay, so you gonna apologize them?” Leonardo asked, almost hopefully.
Leo narrowed his eyes and gave no answer. “If there is no apology met, then the next rule of order is to choose a second. The seconds are the judges— they try to reach a peace, and if a peace is unable to be met, then we move onto phase three. My second is my brother Raphael.”
Raph grunted softly and split off from the group to hesitantly come to Leo’s side.
“Don, you feeling up to it?” Leonardo looked to his brother.
Donatello gave it a moment's thought before shrugging and sauntering off almost in a bored fashion to Leonardo’s side.
“How do we win?” Leonardo asked.
“To win, you must knock down your opponent and hold your blade to their throat. Rule number three! The seconds try to negotiate a peace.” Leo gave a nod, and Raph lumbered forward to meet Donatello in the middle. The two of them quickly fell to a hushed discussion.
“Hello.” Donatello said, his eyes half-lidded and his voice dull.
“Hey— can’t you just try and get your Leo to apologize?” Raph almost pleaded, “You know this ain’t exactly a fair fight.”
“I know.” Donatello replied with little enthusiasm. “Your Leo’s gonna get knocked flat on his Gluteus Maximus. That’s science terms for buttocks. Aka: ass.”
Raph gave a half-amused snort. “No offense, pancake, but I think we both know that ain’t right.”
“Oh wowwwwww, so original.” Donatello slumped, “I’m so hurt. Then again you do have a good point.
Raph smiled, thinning himself victorious until Donatello added,
“I mean, there’s nothing Maximus about his Gluteus.” Donatello motioned to Leo with his thumb.
“No—” Raph growled and forced a smile as he addressed Donatello with slow words, “What I meant was that your brother is gonna end up with the same fate as a firework on Fourth of July.” He made an explosion motion and added his own sound effects, “I mean— come on! It’s like a dodge against a semi-truck— your bro stands no chance!”
“I think we can stand to disagree on that.” Donatello defended his brother calmly.
Raph fixed Donatello with a deadpan expression. “You’re not gonna back down are you?”
“Negatory.” Donatello finally smiled— little more than a slight curve of his lips, but still a smile. “Or way— would that be an affirmative? Eh. Doesn’t matter. Either way I believe we are done here.”
Without another word, he spun on his heels and carried himself confidently over to his brother’s side. Raph grumbled as he often did before taking his leave a few seconds after. There was a minute of stressful silence as both seconds reported to their brothers before Leo stepped forward again.
“Rule four. Draw your weapon only once there is a medic on sight with his back turned.”
Leonardo whistled. “I mean, not that I couldn’t beat you with my back turned, but seriously?”
“Not you.” Leo growled, “Donnie will be our medic on standby.” Leo motioned the tech genius to turn around, and Donnie hesitantly obeyed. This left only the Mikey’s watching. Once Leo was satisfied, he went on, “Rule five would usually include dueling at dawn, but I hardly think it matters down here.”
Leonardo looked up at the high ceiling and then down at Leo.
“Rules six and seven are also moot given our particular circumstances. Unless you have a god you pray to…?”
“Eh, some may describe me as a God, but I think I forgive myself for my sins~”
It took everything Leo had to keep his cool. “Rule number eight. Your last chance to set the record straight.”
“Hey! That rhymed! Good for you!”
“Wait are you just getting these from the Hamilton Musical?” Donatello started to ask, but was interrupted; even as Leo spoke over him, he still continued to talk until he finished the sentence.
“Rule number nine! Look your enemy in the eye.” He and Leonardo locked gazes, “Meet your enemy in the middle…”
Leonardo and Leo took four paces each until they were directly in front of each other.
“Summon your courage in any way necessary.” Leo said cooly, giving a bow that Leonardo returned, “Take a minute to breathe, then take ten paces back.”
The Leo’s were almost in perfect sync as they took their paces backward, now several paces behind their seconds while still facing each other.
“Ready your sword…”
Twin katana and a single odachi were held at the ready.
“Take one final breath…”
No one in the room breathed.
“And count to ten. One… two… three… four...”
“...five...six…seven… eight... nine...”
“Ten.”
#Fight fight fight!!#yes I got the duel commandments from Hamilton#I couldn’t find any good ones okay?!#I won’t apologize for perfection #donatello will defend his bro till the day he dies#usually with sarcasm
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Yeah, so I read your HP headcanons/analysis and I found it really well put. I was wondering about your thoughts on Dumbledore and who he really was as a person. (It’s okay if you don’t really want to reply :> )
We’re just getting all up into The Carnivorous Muffin headcanon land, aren’t we?
Well, this one’s probably obvious to anyone who reads my work.
I fall on the manipulative Dumbledore side of things and then some. Dumbledore is not only a bastard man but is a raging misogynist and extremely classist (which is funny because I don’t see too many people calling him out for those last two when to me canon all but shouts it at you).
Basically, what it comes down to, is even taken in very good faith I simply cannot read Dumbledore’s actions as benign in pretty much every single goddamn decision he makes ever.
God, where do I even start here? I guess we can go chronologically.
Well, there was Dumbledore’s Wizard Nazi youth with an oddly Dorian Gray flare to it with Gellert. I think it’s fairly obvious why Dumbledore’s not exactly... good there so I’m going to skip past it. Suffice to say, it took his sister’s death (and maybe murdering his own invalid sister) for Dumbledore to stop planning world domination. Even then it wasn’t so much that world domination was wrong, but because his sister died and he was an asshole.
I’m going to go ahead and include CoG and Fantastic Beasts because I can (CoG, while a terrible movie, actually does entertain me in many ways). Anyways, before the films came out I always considered the younger Dumbledore far more stoic and brooding. He doesn’t get his eccentric persona until after the defeat of Grindelwald and was before then angsty mcangsts and an academic at heart.
Well, per CoG, apparently he was a budding spy master long before defeating Gellert/Voldemort popped up. We see him manipulating Newt, sending him to Paris as his own agent, WHEN NEWT DOESN’T WANT TO GO AND HAS ACKNOWLEDGED THAT DUMBLEDORE USED HIM INTHE LAST FILM. Dumbledore writes off having used Newt for his own agenda with a charming smile but none the less it paints a pretty grim picture that Albus has always been... Albus. There has always been a greater good out there somewhere and the man is always using someone as a pawn.
Cut to canon and his treatment of Tom Riddle. Frankly, Dumbledore’s treatment of the young Tom Riddle, and even Tom Riddle just before he came Voldemort, is insane. The thought experiment I like to run is “replace Tom in those scenes with Harry Potter”.
Harry was a poor orphan, whose guardians would more than match what Mrs. Cole said about Tom Riddle, who had spurts of accidental magic now and then and enjoyed when his bully cousin was discomfitted. Now, imagine Dumbledore giving Harry his letter, and then pretending to light all of Harry’s possessions on fire to “teach him a lesson”. What the fuck?
Now, am I saying Tom Riddle wasn’t creepy here and that killing a rabbit was terrible. No. But I am saying Dumbledore had a horrible reaction to it and is proud of it years later. (Also, the fact that he uses this memory to convince Harry of how evil Tom is, is hilarious to me. Dumbledore, you were the shit that lit people’s wardrobes on fire. If I was Tom, I’d be upset too).
Dumbledore is always like this with Tom Riddle. He thinks the worst of Tom even in points where Tom hasn’t done anything. I’m not talking about later when, yes, Tom did live up to Dumbledore’s fears but when Dumbledore treats him like garbage and actively sabotaged Tom’s career.
Anyways, cut to later when the Marauders are in school. One of the big things is that Dumbledore puts up a guerilla resistance gang OF SCHOOL CHILDREN. While most members are older, James, Lily, Sirius, Remus, and Peter are all only just out of Hogwarts. “Well,” you say, “It’s their choice and they did graduate. Surely Dumbledore wasn’t actually recruiting school children.” I point you towards canon, where Dumbledore convinces three actual school children that the fate of the nation rests on their shoulders and to go fight the good fight. So yes, Dumbledore canonically uses child soldiers and has no regret for doing so.
The other is letting James and Sirius off the hook for the Lupin incident. While Dumbledore talks the talk this showed that he was not willing to walk the walk. True, while getting them into major trouble would have involved outing Lupin (who was innocent in all of this) at the same time they were nearly responsible for the murder of another student. It’s very convenient that Dumbledore lets off the rich son of a lord, two individuals who later end up in the resistance movement (Potter likely funding part of it), and tells the impoverished half blood to sit down and shut up.
And in canon, yes, I believe that Dumbledore absolutely knew what Harry’s home condition was like. While the blood wards are an excuse they aren’t a particularly good one as for most of Harry’s childhood the Death Eaters were all accounted for. Harry was in no extreme danger from them. To not have had an inkling of Harry’s home life (when Harry even hints at it when wanting to stay over the summer, Harry runs away from home in third year, Fred and George see the bars on the window, and he even visits Harry’s home in sixth year) would be such laughable incompetence and stupidity it’s right out.
With that, I absolutely do believe what Snape showed us in the memory, the Dumbledore behind the scenes as it were. That Dumbledore knew fairly early that Harry Potter was a horcrux and began grooming Harry for suicide. Specifically, that’s what sixth year really is. All those memories of Tom Riddle, the pretext to get some memory from Slughorn, it’s an excuse for a smear campaign designed to convince Harry that Tom Riddle is inherently evil and must die at all costs, even Harry’s own life.
Dumbledore didn’t need that Slughorn memory. Sure, it was useful to know Tom intended to make seven but think about it. How did Dumbledore know there’d be anything remotely useful in there? He doesn’t know that Tom actually drops a number on Slughorn. Even then, he doesn’t know whether Tom actually goes and does it. All of it felt like, “Harry, I have a super secret important mission that only YOU can do. Can you handle it, Harry? Because without this the country is surely doomed” And in that I mean it was an effort to win back Harry’s favor after the previous year meltdown, keep him busy, and start in on the excuse to show Harry some pretty damn innocuous memories of Tom Riddle and go, “See, HE IS EVIL!”
Due to this, I frankly think that the train scene was a hallucination on Harry’s part. Wishful thinking for some gentle explanation of how Dumbledore had not cruelly used him for years and intended his death.
Well, that and it never made much sense that Dumbledore could predict Harry’s a) becoming the master of death b) miraculous second resurrection.
In the first case, Harry becomes master of death because of wand lore bullshit and happenstance where Harry happens to save Draco’s life. Dumbledore had no idea such a thing would happen. Dumbledore’s plan was for there to be no master of death, as the wand would default to having no owner when Snape defeated Dumbledore on Dumbledore’s orders. That Draco got the wand is a sort of Deus ex Machina. Sorry guys, Dumbledore intended Harry to die.
More, even then, while Dumbledore was very into the occult of these things we leave canon without any idea if these things are even responsible for his resurrection. They’re just relatively nifty objects with a legend behind them. There was nothing concrete to suggest that, should Harry happen to get all of them, he would be able to rise from the dead.
Otherwise onto the misogyny and classism parts.
In terms of misogyny this is from every time Dumbledore talks about Lily Evans or Merope Gaunt. In the case of Lily, she’s this weird Madonna figure whose love for Harry was so powerful it saved his life. That she also happened to make these blood wards Dumbledore cannot reproduce and extended her protection to Harry wherever he went is irrelevant. It’s her love that counts. That feminine, maternal, love purer than all others.
Basically, Dumbledore seems to be of the belief that women are flowers. The best of women are these demure, selfless, brave women who sacrifice themselves for their children. Yikes, Dumbledore.
Merope’s the really bad one though. Merope’s tale is how she drugged and raped a defenseless muggle for months and then he escaped. Dumbledore spins it into this Victorian tale of woe where Tom Riddle Sr. THE KIDNAPPED RAPE VICTIM is the asshole here who abandoned Merope to the merciless cold world. How dare he.
It’s very clear that Dumbledore doesn’t see Merope, or women in general, as people. Instead these weird Victorian ideals who can be tragic victims of circumstance.
As for the classism.
While Dumbledore’s very against the pureblood culture we see in the Malfoys a lot of his treatment of Tom Riddle feels very... classist. The big one, which is a little tangential but I say it counts, is Dumbledore’s theory that children of rape are incapable of love. Granted, he’s saying this while convincing Harry to kill himself for the good of the cause and there is a real world parallel in that alcohol/drugs while pregnant is a very bad idea that can lead to extreme mental and physical health disorders. That said, we’re talking love potions at conception, and it always read more as “rape babies” vs. specific drugs. And that is... just yikes on so many levels.
Now, do I agree with manipulative Dumbledore we see in many fics? No, because Dumbledore’s not that stupid.
He doesn’t need to borrow money from Harry’s vault, he doesn’t need to pay off Hermione and Ron to be Harry’s friends, he doesn’t need to choose Harry’s friends for him, he doesn’t need to manipulate Harry’s memories directly. He doesn’t need to do any of this because he got what he wanted just fine in canon.
Dumbledore is one of the smartest characters in canon, far smarter than Harry, and he doesn’t have to stoop to such outrageous schemes to get what he wants. Poorly concealed smear campaigns convincing Harry to commit suicide are more than enough.
#ask#anon#headcanons#albus dumbledore#manipulative dumbledore#dumbledore is pretty damn evil guys#as in there is pretty much not a single action you can point to where i'll say it was reasonable and not in some way underhanded#except maybe his choice in wardrobe#the man has some elton john style
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the path we choose to walk on Pt.2
Part 2 of my Fix-It! Do note that this is NOT THE END. There will be at least one more part (god hope please)
@misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @insertdeeplyrics @cass-said-i-love-you
ALSO SOMEONE WANNA JOIN MY TAG LIST STILL
READ PART ONE FIRST HERE
Ao3
PART 2: a barn in which we meet
Sam is ecstatic. Eileen just revealed to him that she’s pregnant. Dean has been waiting to see Sam’s reaction and he couldn’t be happier. He’s moved out of their place a month ago and is now living in a rather crappy apartment but he’s always over at their house anyway.
I’m gonna be an uncle, Cas.
It feels weird but Sam is so happy. Sam hugs him and Dean makes sure to tell him that he’s gonna be a great Dad. Of course, Dean is going to be a greater Uncle, no two questions about it. Eileen laughs at them and it feels good to have a family. Miracle barks and Dean laughs to include the dog in the hug.
Cas would be proud of him. Dean has a job. It’s not a great job, but it’s a job outside the life. In time, he’ll make friends, too.
“He kissed you?” Sam asks three months later and Dean nods.
“What was it like?”
Dean shakes his head. He doesn’t know. David had been flirting with him for about two months now and Dean wants to explore this side of him, it’s just – it’s just difficult. He feels as if he’s done a disservice to Cas.
“It wasn’t Cas,” he says and Sam nods.
“I know, Dean, but – Cas is gone. Don’t you think he’d want you to be happy?”
Of course Cas would want that. Cas would want Dean to get a partner. Cas would want someone in Dean’s life that would do everything the angel had never been able to do – but it still feels wrong. It’s not Cas. Maybe that will be the fault with everyone: they will never be Cas.
“Go on a date with him,” Sam says, “just to see what it’s like. If you don’t like it, then stop it, yeah? But give him a chance, at least. He’s not a creeper, right?”
No, David is nice. Under different circumstances, Dean might’ve even liked him.
“We’ll see,” Dean replies and they both know that nothing will come of it.
It’s not Cas.
Eileen was eight months pregnant when Sam found a case. “Something’s killing monsters,” he says.
Normally, Dean wouldn’t be too concerned with this – monsters could kill other monsters for all he cared but this – whatever it was, it killed too many too quickly. It would make whole nests mad and then they’d beseech the town.
Dean doesn’t want Sam to go, not so shortly before the birth of his daughter but he can’t go alone, either. So they’re going to go together. If everything goes well, they don’t have to kill something. After all, whatever monster-killer is out there might not be aware of the impact of what they’re doing.
“Let’s go, then,” Dean says.
Eileen is upset about staying behind but she knows it’s better this way. “You look out for him,” she says to Dean and he laughs.
“With my life,” he promises.
It feels good to take the Impala on a long stretch again. Miracle stayed behind with Eileen and it’s just him and his little brother on the road. It almost feels like the old times. They were rushing in to save the day, heroes once more.
Cas would be proud of them.
“Know anything about that monster-killer?”
“No,” Sam says. “But get this: all the killings happen in the same place, suggesting that it’s not moving around. In fact, it might even be that the other monsters seek it out for whatever reason so maybe it’s acting in self-defense?”
Dean just nods. That might be possible.
A long time ago, he believed that all monsters were evil. But he’d been wrong. They were also just trying to survive. If they were good, they got to live. And if they were bad, they got dead. If one would look at it from this angle, it wouldn’t be that complicated at all.
It doesn’t take long to arrive at the scene. No humans have come to harm as of yet, so there’s no need to identify as the FBI again. They could just get in and get out.
“We don’t know what we’re dealing with,” Sam warns him and Dean nods. He’s not suicidal. He has his gun and he also has his angel blade. He’d be fine. Castiel’s coat is in the trunk. Dean took it with him wherever he went. He would never be too old for a comfort blanket.
It’s a barn. Somehow, Dean was expecting this. He looks around. There are no monsters than he can hear so he hopes that they’ve come at a good time. The trees though – they look odd. They are all bended outwards as if a bomb had dropped.
“Where are the bodies?”
“Maybe whoever is killing them gets rid of them after?”
Sam shrugs, and Dean mimics him. It doesn’t really matter, either.
“Stay behind me,” Dean says and Sam scoffs. He steps up next to Dean and looks at him.
“Together,” he says and Dean smiles.
They don’t get attacked when they enter. Maybe they’re not a threat to that thing. The barn has numerous holes in the ceiling so at least a little light is shining through. They cautiously walk further in. Dean is expecting an attack any second and the longer time goes on, the more anxious he gets. He just doesn’t want the monster to jump out of the dark and attack Sam. What would he tell Eileen? Dean is still crap at Sign Language.
There is a loud, and yet muffled sound and Dean points his gun at it. He looks over to Sam who just nods and Dean takes the lead. There. He can see it, nestled against the wall. It’s a blob that looks vaguely human-shaped. Its hand is outstretched but the arm is shaking and the thing looks like it’s covered in goo.
Dean lowers his gun. Whatever it is, it’s afraid. Sam steps up next to him, also putting his gun away.
“Hey,” Sam starts in a soft tone and the thing flinches, “we’re not here to hurt you.”
The hand stays outstretched for a moment but then the arm gets lowered. The poor thing is shaking.
“My name is Sam,” the thing moves a little, “and I’m here with my brother Dean.”
There is a low keening noise and Dean doesn’t know what to make of it.
“We want to help you, if we can.”
The thing falls forward on all fours and drags itself closer to them. Whatever the goo is, it clings tightly to the body and Dean feels sorry for whatever’s underneath. The thing has to stop every few inches, clearly exhausted. Dean feels for whatever it is. It starts punching its hand into the ground and Dean realises that it’s writing something down.
Where, it says.
“You’re in Kansas,” he replies and the thing turns in his direction. It shakes and Dean thinks it’s just about to collapse. How long has it been here, weighed down by this goo? How long has it waited for someone like Sam and Dean to show up?
“Hey,” he says a little softer. “We’re going to get that stuff off of you and then we can talk, like civilised people, yeah?”
The thing’s head droops a little and Dean finds it very endearing. It looks almost like a head tilt. “Okay, so,” he starts but then there are noises outside. Dean realises instantly that more monsters have come.
“Sammy,” he hisses but Sam is already in position. Dean stays close to Goo who’s heaving a little. Dean doesn’t understand why he wants to protect Goo but he finds he simply has to.
Seven guys trot in and Dean guesses that they might be Vampires. Damn, he’s packed the wrong bullets. Still, shooting them would slow them down for a moment so that he could stab them with the knife. It’s easy to slip back into the Killer Dean Winchester and he hates it. What would Cas have to say about all this?
“Ah, the Winchesters! I had believed you had retired. So sad to see I was wrong. But no worry – me and my friends will gladly help you along!”
Damn he hates vampires. They just fucking suck.
“Oh yeah? So how about you eat... this...”
They just exploded. In front of his eyes, they just exploded in a flash of light and Dean looks down at Goo. His hand his outstretched, just like before and something coils in Dean’s stomach. It couldn’t be. No, that’s just ridiculous.
Sam’s looking over at them too but Dean pays him no mind because – because Goo just slumps to the ground and Dean’s heart sinks. No. No no no no no no. Please don’t. He drops his gun and falls to the floor, grabbing Goo and lifting him up. He doesn’t care that he gets the ugly sticky stuff all over himself.
“Cas,” he whispers but Goo doesn’t reply. “Please, please. Cas, please.”
With Sam’s help, they get Goo into the car. In the back of his head, Dean isn’t looking forward to having to clean Baby from this stuff but he doesn’t really mind. If this is Cas – it has to be, it has to be – he doesn’t care at all. He slides in the backseat and Sam drives towards the nearest motel. Dean shrugs off his jacket and puts it around Goo’s shoulders, hoping to at least fool the majority of people into thinking that this was just another normal person. And if they didn’t – well they are very welcome to lick his boots.
Sam walks into the reception area of this Motel 5 and Dean tries to wake up Goo again but he’s still out like a light.
“Cas,” he says. “Cas, I’ve missed you so much. Please. Please, be real.”
His voice doesn’t sound like his own.
Together, they drag Goo into their room. Without stopping, they immediately continue on into the bathroom. There’s no tub, sadly – Sam had inquired – so the shower would have to do. They shove Goo inside and turn the warm water on. Dean doesn’t want to use cold water. Cas doesn’t deserve cold water.
“It doesn’t come off,” Dean says and Sam clenches his jaw. Why isn’t it coming off? Dean’s breath starts to pick up until Sam puts his hand on his shoulder.
“Breathe,” he reminds his brother and so Dean takes a deep breath. He nods and Sam turns the water off. The get Goo back out of the shower and haul him into the main room. They lay him upon a bed and Dean sits next to him. Sam gets on his phone, presumably to call Eileen and let her know what’s up.
“Cas,” Dean says quietly. “Please. If it’s you, then please – please give me a sign.”
There is nothing and Dean loses hope. But then he sees a small light flicker in the middle of Goo and Dean’s desperate enough to take it.
“Cas,” he says again and puts his hand on Goo’s face. “I’m here, baby. Tell me how to help you. Please. I need you back, Cas. I can’t – I’ve tried. Cas, I’ve tried to do it without you and I’m fine, y’know but it’s not – it’s not enough, y’know?
There’s this guy. David. He’s nice, yeah? He kissed me a few months ago and – I don’t know. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t – it wasn’t you. But I wanted to try. You’d want me to be happy, to find a partner that’ll love me and – I wanted to try. So I asked him out, Cas. He’s a nice guy. He makes jokes and he likes Baby and he likes Pizza and he even indulges me on my cowboy fetish. Remember when I made you wear that hat? Those were good times, Cas. Anyway, I – we, we had, uh... we had sex. It was just one time, but well, it – I don’t know. It wasn’t bad, I think – I don’t really know, I’ve never done it before, but – it was alright. It was just okay and I’ve told him as much and he looked at me and said you’re still in love with someone else and fuck, Cas, he’s right. I tried to use David as this filler, to try and get over you before I was ready and I –
Fuck, Cas. I love you. I can’t get over you; how do I even start? I think about you every day. Did you hear my prayers? I’ve never stopped. I thought, that maybe, if I pray enough, that you’d hear me someday.”
Dean leans forward and presses his forehead against Goo. It feels gross, but this is Cas.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t good enough last time. I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to bring you back. You deserve more than me and I’ll never understand why your dumb ass fell in love with me. Jack became God, y’know? You were right about him. I’m just – I’m so sad you’ll never get to experience the world now. You should’ve gotten the chance to say good-bye to him and I... I...
Cas, please. Come back to me.
I – I know I can live without you. It’ll be empty and cold and sad, but I could. The point is, Cas, I don’t want to. I don’t want to live somewhere where you do not. Even if we can’t go back to the way things were, I need to know – I need to know that you’re alive.
What’s Heaven without its best angel?
What’s the Righteous Man without his saviour?
...
Cas, please. I don’t... I don’t have any other words.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
I want to tell you.
I want to hold your hand and I want to kiss your hair and I want to be gross with you and I...
I just want you.
I just...
Please. Cas. Please...”
His throat hurts, and he cries.
*
At night, Dean lies next to Goo. He’s holding Goo’s hand as much as he can and he sleeps. He’s never got to sleep in the same bed as Cas before. He wishes that they would’ve had more opportunities before but it was too late now.
I’ll watch over you.
Dean wishes he could’ve watched over Castiel at least one time.
Dean wakes by someone shaking him rapidly. He doesn’t want to wake up. Miracle can walk herself. He’s dreaming about Cas walking in a field. He doesn’t want to leave the dream. But the shaking doesn’t stop. So he rolls on his back and blinks angrily at whoever woke him. Sam.
Of course it’s fucking Sam.
“Dean,” he breathes and he there’s this look in his eyes. He’s looking next to Dean and so Dean turns his head and –
“Cas,” he whispers.
Goo is gone and all that’s left is Cas.
Dean cries.
He can’t stop. He doesn’t even try.
Cas doesn’t really respond to anything when he wakes up. But Dean doesn’t care. Cas is here. Cas is alive. He’s slapped himself several times just to make sure that he was really awake. It’s hard to pry Dean away from Cas even just for a minute.
Sam is worried that Cas is so unresponsive to anything and on some level, Dean is too, but at the moment, he doesn’t care.
“Cas,” is the only thing Dean is really capable of saying and every time he does, he feels like Cas’ eyes snap in his direction at least a little. That’s good, right? That’s some sort of response and that’s good. They’ll figure it out. They always do. Team Free Will was together again and they could tackle everything.
One day after Goo turned into Cas, they made the drive back home. Dean lets Sam drive so that he can stay in the backseat with Cas. It feels so good to have his angel leaning against him. Dean had detested it, but they’ve done a test: they’ve cut Cas with the angel blade and there had been grace shimmering beneath the surface.
On the way home, Dean murmurs to Cas constantly and he wants to believe that the angel can understand him. And even if he can’t – he just wants to talk to Cas. He can’t even count the days since he’s last been so happy.
“I love you,” he whispers again and again and maybe, just maybe, Cas moves his head every time he says it.
They decide that Cas would stay at Dean’s apartment. Sam had been debating if Cas shouldn’t maybe stay with him and Eileen – after all they had a whole house. But they’d be having a baby pretty soon. Dean was able to devote himself to Cas entirely. And most importantly, Dean doesn’t want to stay away from Cas for any amount of time. He’s utterly convinced that Cas reacted to his voice in the car. Yes, maybe it had been just a coincidence but Dean needs to believe that there is more to it. Cas loves him. He loves Cas.
“Just be careful, Dean,” Sam had said while Dean clutched Cas to his chest. “If anything happens, call me.”
Dean had nodded and ascended the stairs.
Castiel is lying on his couch for most of the day. Dean wants to believe that Cas watches him. He enjoys this – being watched by Cas. It had been too long. He couldn’t stop smiling because he’s happy.
Cas is alive. Cas is here.
It’s like a dream come true.
At night, Cas lies in bed next to him and Dean presses soft kisses against his temple. He doesn’t dare do more and he’s content like this. He holds Castiel’s hand the entire night and if he wishes hard enough he can imagine that Castiel squeezes his hand back.
“Dean,” Castiel says and Dean cries.
Castiel doesn’t speak again but Dean can’t stop crying.
“Sam just called,” Dean informs Cas who is lying on the couch. Cas’ eyes flicker to him, half-understanding. “Eileen just went into labour. I wanna go there, Cas, I wanna meet my niece. Do you... do you want to come?”
He’s not expecting a response. He always wants one, but he never expects it.
“I,” Castiel says and his voice is terribly hoarse but Dean drops the phone nonetheless.
“Want,” Castiel keeps on saying before he hacks up an ugly cough. Dean cries and rushes over to him.
Cas looks at him with tired eyes, but he sees him, he looks at him, he’s here –
“Anything you want, baby,” Dean whispers. “Anything you want.”
The nurses tell Dean that Sam and Eileen are inside but that he’s not allowed to go in. They were nice enough to give him a wheelchair for Cas – as much as Dean loves to pretend he’s a strong macho man, Cas is still six feet tall and really fucking heavy.
“They’re just inside there,” Dean says to Cas who’s looking at the floor. “Sam’s gonna be a dad.”
He can scarcely believe it himself. Sammy’s going to be a dad.
“Father,” Castiel says and Dean smiles. This is good. This is so good. Castiel can hear him and he can even respond.
“I’m so proud of you, Cas.”
Castiel looks at him with his big, blue, unblinking eyes. He frowns. Fuck, Dean had missed him so much.
“Jack,” he says and tries to look around.
“He’s God now, Cas. It’s like you always said – he’s destined for great things.”
Cas looks a bit upset.
“Goodbye,” he rasps and his eyes become frantic. “Where,” he says and starts coughing.
Oh god, no no no no. Cas is coughing up the same black goo he had been covered with.
“Cas, Cas, baby, please,” Dean whines.
Cas’ whole body shakes and Dean can tell that he’s trying to reign the coughs in. His good, pure, strong angel. Cas looks up at Dean, heaving heavily with tears in his eyes.
Dean presses kisses on his face – his cheeks, his forehead, his nose, his chin.
“So good. You’re so good. We’ll fix this. I promise. We’ll fix this, together. I’m not letting you go. I’m never letting you go again, Cas.”
“Dean,” Cas says quietly and slumps against him. Dean can feel him breathing and he wraps his arms around him.
“I love you,” Dean says and Cas presses his forehead against Dean’s neck.
*
It takes ten hours, but then Dean officially becomes an uncle. Castiel had been asleep for a good amount of time, but at least he hasn’t coughed again. Of course, Dean is a bit worried about the sleeping but he’ll figure that out. All that matters is that he’s got Cas by his side and that he’s now got a little baby girl to spoil.
Once he gets the clear, he rolls Cas into the room and Sam and Eileen both look tired but also so, so happy. They light up even more when they see Cas.
“Cas,” Sam says and smiles at him. Cas looks up at Sam and blinks slowly.
“Sam,” he replies hoarsely.
Sam looks to Dean in utter disbelief and Dean can just smile. “Show us the baby, yeah?”
Eileen moves the blanket aside a bit so that they can take a look at the little bundle of joy. Her face is all scrunched up and she’s just adorable.
“Sammy, are you sure she’s really your daughter?”
Sam shoves him playfully. “You’re such a dick.”
“Baby,” Cas says and Eileen smiles at him.
“Do you want to hold her?”
It doesn’t seem like Cas understands at first, but then he nods. He raises his arms and Eileen places her daughter in them without a second thought. Both Sam and Dean are ready to interfere in case Cas’ arms would not be steady enough to hold the baby but it turns out they needn’t have worried.
“Hello,” Cas says to the child who wiggles a bit in his arms.
“Her name’s Maria,” Sam supplies and Castiel slowly nods.
“Maria,” he says. He slowly puts a finger on her tiny nose. His finger glows and Dean worries. What’s going on?
Cas looks at Eileen but he doesn’t move to give the baby back. Eileen just looks at him, then she slowly nods and smiles. She signs something and Cas turns his head to Sam.
“Fix,” he says. “Heart.”
“She... she has a heart problem?”
Castiel shakes his head. “Not... not anymore. I. I fix. I. Take. I...,” he closes his eyes in strain. “It’s gone now. They. Would. They would not have. Noticed. It’s small. But I. I took it.” His voice sounds like it pains him greatly. He slumps in his chair a bit but holds Maria tight.
“Dean,” he says and Dean’s by his side in a flash. “I want. I want to see Jack.”
*
When they are back at home, Dean prays to Jack. Cas fell asleep in the car as soon as they started driving back home and he hasn’t woken up since. But he also hasn’t coughed again which is probably a good sign.
“Hey, Jack,” Dean says, looking out the window. He’s put Cas into bed and is sitting next to him. The soft breathing behind him calms Dean and he wouldn’t move away from it for the world.
“I don’t know if you noticed, but we got Cas back. I don’t know how, if you were involved or not and if you can even hear me, but – he’s back, Jack. Cas is back.”
It still sounds like a dream.
“And he – Jack, he wants to see you. He didn’t get to say good-bye, y’know? He really misses you and, Jack, he’s – he’s sick or something. We found him covered in some black goo – you know, it kinda looked the Empty Goo thing, but I don’t – the goo is gone now, but he’s weak and he was coughing that stuff up earlier today and – I just... Jack, please come here. Fix him? He deserves it, yeah? So... just please, when you have a moment off from being God, could you... just pop in?”
Dean isn’t expecting Jack to instantly appear in the room, but – he somehow is. He sighs and turns around to Castiel fully. He’s sleeping peacefully and Dean smiles. He takes Cas’ hand and softly strokes the skin.
Miracle miracles herself into the bedroom and sniffs at Cas extensively. Cas doesn’t react to her but Dean smiles at the dog. He isn’t even sure if Cas knows that there’s a dog here. Miracle clearly doesn’t know what to make of the strange new man yet and Dean can’t blame her.
“I’m sorry I’ve been neglecting you, girl,” he says and Miracle huffs. She looks at him expectantly. Dean laughs.
“But this is Cas, yeah? They guy I told you about. The guy that died? I’m sorry, girl. I’ll make it up to you when he’s better. And he’s getting better, he just needs a little more time, yeah? So... how about you help? If we both shower him with love, then he’ll get back on his feet even quicker, yeah? And then all three of us can go on a walk together.”
At the word “walk”, Miracle perked up and started wagging her tail. She then proceeds to climb up on the bed and snuggle up to Cas as if she had actually understood Dean. And he has a pretty good feeling that she actually had. Dean laughed and lays down himself, intertwining his fingers with Cas. His niece had just been born, Cas had been incredibly responsive today and everything would work out.
They just need a little more time.
A little more time, and then all of them could sit a table together, enjoying a family dinner.
#supernatural#Destiel#spn fix it#spn 15x20#castiel#dean winchester#Sam Winchester#eileen leahy#saileen#hurt#angst#hurt/comfort#fanfiction#writing#irrlicht writes#userpris#more to come#part two
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Between The Pipes [Chapter 33]
Rating: M
Words: 2860
Pairing: Kristanna
Summary: When a new owner takes over the Arendelle Ice Breakers, Kristoff isn’t sure about his future with the team. That is, until a PR nightmare throws the newest member of the media team, who also just so happens to be the daughter of the new owner, right into his arms. Kristoff and Anna can’t even stand the interviews they have to do together… how on earth are they going to fix this mess? Hockey!AU.
[Chapter Index]
Where To Read:
[AO3]
Notes: 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰
Enjoy!
It was about ten days before Kristoff felt all of his symptoms had fully subsided. He had started going for jogs a couple of days ago, but anything more than that tended to bring the headache roaring back. So he continued to take it easy, go for a short jog in the morning, and only watch an hour of tapes per day. Anything longer than that hurt his head, too.
Anna had… not so slowly started moving her things in. She didn’t have much, but he told her to put her stuff wherever she wanted, that she could make this place as much hers as she wanted. And he genuinely meant it. His house had just been a house. He hadn’t put much thought into it beyond the comfort of his couch and bed. Decor was minimal, and everything was very much brown.
Maybe she could help him make it a home.
Her just being there already made it closer.
—
After four weeks, they broke her lease and she had officially moved in. They figured it would help her save some more in the long run, help her skate by for just a little longer, even if he told her over and over that she didn’t need to worry about money.
But Anna hadn’t wanted to start things out that way. She had some savings, and she could pay for things here and there, and she didn’t want him to feel like she was taking advantage. Kristoff assured her that he could never think that she was. But still, she insisted, and he told her that that was something he absolutely loved about her.
He had been able to start doing more normal exercises again. Working with the trainers was annoying, but there weren’t any headaches returning when he pushed himself like he used to. They told him if he could do this for a week without any symptoms popping up, he could get back on the ice.
—
That week went by like a breeze, and Kristoff relished in the feel of crisp ice under his skates. There was no feeling better than being on the ice. He sighed with defeat as they told him they wanted to wait another week before they started firing pucks at him, but he grudgingly agreed. At least he was skating.
And then, even better, he got to come home and see Anna, her hair wrapped into a bun on top of her head as she sat with her knee to her chest, drawing in an almost full sketchbook, her tongue caught between her teeth. “Hi baby,” he smiled, his heart warming as she looked up at him and used the back of her hand to push hair from her eyes. He kissed her softly as he walked past, enjoying the pure domesticity of it all. “Have a good day?”
“Oh yes! I went to that cafe downtown that we like - you know, Oaken’s Mochas and Teas?”
He always laughed at the name. So on the nose.
“And well, I noticed that they didn’t have any sort of logo or anything so… I don’t know. I just…” she blushed and spun around on the chair, dangling her legs off the side. “They know me and I figured what was the harm in asking - so I’m designing something for them now!”
His eyes widened and he took three steps forward to clear the gap between them, placing an enthusiastic kiss on her lips. “Anna, that’s so great.”
“They’re paying me, too!” She was giggling against his mouth, and he couldn’t help but smile. “Remember how the last place wouldn’t pay? I took it because, you know, portfolio, but I offered for free, but they insisted.”
“I’m so proud of you, baby.”
Then her arms were around his neck and not letting go and she hummed low and slow, “how about you? Good day? Worn out?”
Oh. He was never too worn out for that.
He hoisted her up onto his hips, grinning like a madman as they moved backwards to his bedroom. Well, their bedroom. She never did sleep in the spare room.
—
He was growing slightly frustrated at the week-by-week status, but he knew this was his second head injury, and they wanted to be more careful this time around. But only progressing to the next step after a whole week was growing agonizing. At least he was doing non-contact now, grinning from ear to ear as he slapped each puck out of midair.
God it felt so fucking good to be back like this.
Anna had come with him today to spend some time with Honeymaren while they practiced, and he could hear her whooping from the stands. Every time he made a save, “that’s my baby!” Every time someone scored on him, “you’ll get it next time honey!”
It was the most endearing thing ever, as she jumped up and waved her hands in the air, as if it were an actual game. As if it weren’t just her in the stands, cheering him on during a practice.
God he loved her so much.
—
Finally they were letting him practice back in a regular jersey. No more no-contact. He was fortunate that goalies rarely got touched anyway, but now they guys weren’t holding back anymore. Slapshots and more risky wraparounds and pucks fired in a way that made him dive were becoming the norm again, and he felt so damn good with every puck he saved.
Shot by shot, the rust was shaking off, and Kristoff felt ready to get back in a game. It was almost April, and he needed to be playoff ready. They had promised him he’d be back in by March 20th, which gave him a little under three weeks of in-game play before the playoffs started. They were so close to a playoff spot, and he knew that he could help them win it.
But he wouldn’t rush, and he was going to trust the physicians on staff, and take it slow.
If for no other reason than Anna.
He knew she was worried about him getting back in. But they weren’t playing the Stallions yet - they had at least until the Eastern Conference, and by then he would undoubtedly be a one hundred percent. Plus, the guys had his back, and, he couldn’t help but laugh about it, Warren had been scratched for the rest of the season. Coach’s decision.
—
Right on the promised date, Kristoff was starting in net against Tampa, and the literal electricity in the arena had him amped up beyond belief. Their whole team was working together like a well oiled machine, and he hadn’t realized what a vital cog he was to the whole operation until he had been gone. Even if it had just been in practice, he already felt the connection, and he knew this game would be easily won.
Anna had threatened him with an indefinite withhold if he didn’t let her come on the roadie, so she was up in their box, undoubtedly screaming along to every play, and just knowing she was in the arena made his game that much better.
They won, 5-2, and dog-piled in the middle of the arena as they clinched their playoff spot.
Fuck. This was still the best feeling in the world.
—
The rest of the season went by in a flash, and before they knew it, the Ice Breakers were facing New York in round one. It felt so easy now as they swept the round, and had extra days for recovery.
The Stallions lost against Boston.
It had been a weird moment, celebrating someone else’s loss, but Anna had come home with two bottles of champagne and they popped bottles and got a little drunk and Anna had taken him to bed and all right, he might be okay with celebrating another’s loss if it meant he got this. Plus, it was the team that almost took him out for the end of the season.
Yeah, he was okay with celebrating.
Philadelphia was a harder won match. They liked to play dirty. It went to game seven before they finally secured the win, and they all felt the tiring ache of it. Kristoff hated going to game seven - it meant they only had two days to recuperate before the next match started.
But Anna had drawn him a hot bath, had snuck in to lay on his chest while he relaxed, and scratched her fingers against his chin as she waxed poetic about playoff beards and how maybe he should just keep it and then her hands sunk a little lower, and he was suddenly feeling a lot more prepared for the Conference finals.
He genuinely thought they might lose to Toronto. They lost the first two. Won the third. Lost the fourth, and if they didn’t win all three of the remaining games, they were out.
It was close. God it was so fucking close.
Game seven. They were 3-3. Sudden death overtime. It looked like it might head into double overtime, with only eighteen seconds on the clock, but then --
Pederson scores! Ice Breakers win!!!!
Thank fuck.
—
Anna was there for every game. Every win, every loss, she was there. And he knew he wasn’t being a good boyfriend right now, he knew that he was too focused on his career right now and this was what he had been so fucking concerned about from the beginning.
But after game two against Nashville, which they lost miserably, Kristoff was sulking on the couch watching tapes to figure out where they kept scoring on him, and Anna wrapped soft arms around his neck.
“Hey,” she hummed, not even reacting to his short, irritated reply. “I just want you to know… How proud I am of you.”
That got his attention.
“You had a really traumatic thing happen, and you bounced right back from it, and you’ve been playing so hard, and so well, and… There’s no fear, and that’s amazing.” He let one hand raise to her arm, stroking his thumb across her skin.
“I love you so much,” he muttered, tilting his head back to look up at her. “I’m sorry if I’ve been a bad boyfriend.”
“I know,” she smiled, placing one quick kiss against his lips. “And you haven’t. I can deal with your job being most important for two months of the year.”
“You love me still?”
“More every day.”
He felt more confident in game three. And four. And then they were up three to one, and only needed one more fucking win to win the whole damn thing.
—
They were in Nashville and Anna was lamenting the fact that they didn’t have the time to actually see the city this week, and Kristoff pulled her close and told her if they won tonight they could stay here as long as she wanted and see everything she could possibly think of. She blushed and kissed him and told him that he better bring his A game, because she was holding him to it and would be horribly disappointed if they had to fly back home tonight.
That was an extra motivation.
They arrived at the arena early, amazed at the crowd already forming and the insane energy just surrounding the building. Playoff hockey was a whole other world, and he was so ecstatic that Anna was getting to experience it by his side. He kissed her deeply before she had to head up to the box and him to the locker room, with a quick squeeze of her bottom and a laugh.
“Hey!”
“It’s for luck!!”
Anna swatted at him but grinned as she followed Jelissa up the stairs to the visiting team’s box, laughing with the blonde about their stupid men and how on earth do we put up with them and Kristoff tuned out the rest before he heard something he didn’t want to. Then he turned his focus to the game.
“Men!” Sven hollered, his voice booming through the locker room. “This game is do or die. We’re ahead, but you better not let that cockiness mess with your game.”
Kristoff couldn’t help but smile. His best friend had perfectly honed his skill of making a speech lighthearted but also motivating. The team followed him into fire, and Kristoff had always admired him for it. When Sven wrapped it up and hopped down from his perch, Kristoff held out a hand, gripped his best friends’ and knocked their helmets together.
“Captain.”
“We win together or we die together, brother.”
Kristoff almost laughed at the drama of it all. “Calm down, Aragorn.”
Sven was silent for a moment. “When the fuck did you watch Lord of the Rings?”
“... Concussion recovery was rough.” He dropped Sven’s hand and smirked. “But it was actually pretty good.”
“Haven’t I been telling you for years that you would like it?” He smacked Kristoff upside the head and grinned. “Never listen to me, but the second you get a girlfriend…”
They heard the announcements starting, and moved out towards the runway. As always, they were last onto the ice, and as always, they fist bumped before they stepped out. He was as ready as he’d ever be. The timer counted down, they got into position.
Three.
Two.
One.
The puck hit the ice.
Period one had a rough start. 2-0 Nashville. But he was recalibrating, remembering what it was he kept missing. They got him on his glove side. They knew he was a little weaker, a little more hesitant with it after the injury.
But he could fix it.
Period two, nothing got by him, and the guys scored three times. 2-3 Ice Breakers. Thank god.
Period three, and the pressure is on. Nashville doesn’t want to lose, and the Ice Breakers don’t want to drag it out. They’ve played three long matches already.
Nashville scores.
Ice Breakers score.
3-4.
4-4.
5-4.
5-5.
And then.
Carruthers, the kid they just brought up from the minors to fill in a gap from another injury, fucking scores with three seconds on the clock. His third game. His first NHL goal.
The fucking Stanley Cup game winning goal.
The whole team runs to center ice. The whole team dog piles on top of the kid, still silent and slack-jawed with shock, still not believing what just happened.
“Fuck yeah!”
“God damn it Ruthy!”
“How the fuck, kid!”
The incoherent screaming from the team didn’t drown out the booing from the crowd, but nothing would bring them down right now. Nothing could.
After their celebration, both teams basically let the three seconds run. Nashville knew nothing could be done, and the Ice Breakers weren’t about to let anything past them anyway. The buzzer rang and they all cheered again, whooping and hollering as they received the cup, went through the motions in the arena that wasn’t welcoming them. Then they ran down the runway, back to the locker room to find their family and friends waiting with enough champagne for every person in that room to have their own bottle.
Captain Sven Pederson had the pleasure of carrying the cup back with him.
Music was blasting, everyone was screaming, champagne was already flying through the air and as the team started stripping some of their bulkier gear off, Mattias took to the stage.
“I’ve never been more fucking proud of you boys. You rallied together and in just a few years, we’ve already risen so far beyond what people expected of this new little team in the middle of nowhere. I’m not going to make some big long speech,” Kristoff could see the tears in his eyes as he sniffled, and he let out a booming laugh as he looked around the room. “But you’ve all just… you’ve made me feel like a proud father.” He waved his hands in front of his face and shrugged. “But fuck my speech, let’s celebrate!”
And celebrate they did.
Bottles popped, beers were distributed, everyone drank way more than they should as Sven emptied at least 8 bottles of champagne directly into the cup and lifted it to pour into every players’ mouth. The man of the hour, Scotty Carruthers, was herded to the middle of the pack and drenched in champagne and beer before he had even fully finished processing what was happening.
After far too long, Kristoff found Anna, and she leapt immediately into his arms, placing sloppy peppered kisses all over his face. “I’m” kiss “so” kiss “fucking” kiss kiss “proud of you.” And then a hearty one on the mouth, as her hands pressed firm to either side of his jaw.
Kristoff smiled with his fingers spread wide over her back as she threw her arms in the air to add more beer to the rain in the room. She laughed brightly, lowered her hands back to his shoulders, and gave him the best smile he had ever seen. “I love you so much.”
And then he thought that somehow that was worth more than the fucking Stanley Cup.
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something about you;
introduction | masterlist | tag | wattpad
Eight. January, 2009.
He can’t get enough of kissing her.
Isla is his girlfriend now, has been for over two months, and Niall still can’t get enough of it: can’t get enough of walking with his arm around her in the hallway at school, can’t get enough of bringing her name up in front of Colm during practice, can’t get enough of the sight of her in his jumpers, can’t get enough of this, right now, the way he has her laid out underneath him on his twin-sized bed, his hands up under her jumper, her fingers tangled in his hair. They’ve been kissing for what feels like hours and he’s insatiable, riled up, pulls away every time he has to breathe only to feel like he’s suffocating without her mouth on his. He can’t imagine he’ll ever get enough of her. He can’t imagine ever going anywhere if she’s not around.
And she’s the same way—Isla’s never been particularly shy around him but he knows now that there’s a whole side of her no one gets to see, a layer just for him, where she’s passionate and loving and soft, never satisfied with just one more kiss, just one more cuddle. He thinks about when he met her, 7 years old and looking at him on the ground, covered in mud, and looks at her now almost exactly seven years later, sprawled out underneath him, a deep, purple hickey blossoming on her neck. The thought of how far they’ve come makes him want to cry.
Still straddling her, Niall sits back on his haunches, hands resting on Isla’s hips. It’s only a few days into January and outside Niall’s bedroom window it’s snowing—thick, heavy flakes falling to the ground fast and hard. It started hours ago and there’s a claustrophobic blanket of it covering the grass, the street, the trees, the cars, muffling every sound, softening every light. Night falls in mid-afternoon in January, too, making it feel like 11pm when it’s just barely 6:30. Isla’s been over since 10am and they spent the day mostly like this: snogging, napping, cuddling, laughing. She brought a book over and curled up next to him while he played guitar, they fucked around on FIFA together for a few hours, rolling over laughing as they designed the ugliest possible kits they could imagine, gave their squads the stupidest names they could think up. He made her an omelette for lunch—ham and cheese, her favorite—and almost choked to death laughing when she started joking about their head teacher, a spot-on impersonation that almost terrified him with how good it was.
When he’s with Isla, Niall doesn’t feel that familiar desperation to get out, that dread that his life is going to stop here, slam up against a brick wall on the edges of Mullingar and wither away. He still wants to get out but he thinks about doing it with her: he can figure something out for himself in London while she’s at uni and he can build something he’s proud of, wherever Isla is. He feels safe with her, less afraid of time pushing forward, of his life fading away.
‘You thinking about something?’ Isla slides her palms up Niall’s thighs and he focuses back in on the moment. Back in on his Isla. ‘You’ve got your thinking face on.’
‘Just uni and stuff,’ it’s easy, Niall’s found, not to keep things from Isla. He doesn’t feel stupid telling her what he’s thinking, even though he knows she’s a million miles smarter than he’ll ever be. ‘London.’
‘What about it?’ When Isla asks questions they’re gentle. Not probing, not accusatory. He doesn’t feel like she’ll laugh at his answers, or tell him the things he wants are out of reach.
‘Dunno, just,’ he scratches the back of his neck. ‘What I can do in London, while you’re at uni. I don’t know if I’ve got the marks to get into a music conservatory. I can try to do pub gigs, odd jobs, things like that, but I’ll need to figure out accommodation and rent in London is so expensive and—’
‘Niall, Niall,’ Isla reaches up to cup Niall’s cheek. Her hands are warm and soft and he calms down almost immediately. ‘We’ve got ages still. But we can look at conservatory programs and unis and stuff tomorrow if you want. I’m looking after Aiden while you’re at football practice but if you want to come over afterward we can use my dad’s computer.’
‘You’d look with me?’ Niall’s never felt like his future has been of that much interest to anyone.
‘Yeah, of course. We could go talk to Mrs. Healy, too, get her advice.’
‘Oh, Jesus,’ Niall grimaces at the thought of spending time with the school’s guidance counsellor, her suffocating office in the back of the administration building, the overwhelming cloud of perfume that follows everywhere she goes. ‘Spare me.’
Isla laughs, her nose scrunching up as she does. ‘I think she wears all that perfume to cover up the smell of her crush on Mr. O’Hagan.’
‘Stop,’ Niall’s jaw drops, Isla still laughing underneath him. He loves the way her laugh gets when she’s not self-conscious—her double chin, her lopsided smile, a cackle in the back of her throat. Her laugh is so funny that it sets him off too more often than not, and he’s already giggling before he can finish the rest of his sentence. ‘Do you really think?’
‘Oh my God, totally. Have you seen the way she moons over him? I bet she keeps a lock of his hair in her bra, or something.’
‘Is that what girls do when they have crushes?’ Niall’s sure his face is beet red from laughter, but he doesn’t care. ‘Do you need a lock of mine for yourself?’
‘Don’t flatter yourself,’ Isla leans up for another kiss, smiling against his lips. ‘The hair would need to be natural.’
--
When Isla’s dad comes to pick her up at 8, Niall walks her to the door. She’s wrapped up in one of his jumpers and a scarf but he can still see the dark hickey he left on her neck this afternoon, and Niall’s dad can, too, when he says goodnight to Isla in the kitchen.
Niall kisses her goodnight at the door and watches until the tail lights of her dad’s car disappear around the corner. The snow is still falling and his heart feels like the center of the universe, buoyed by endless possibilities for the future.
When he steps back into the kitchen, Bobby is leaning against the counter.
‘You’re being safe with her, Niall?’ He asks it straight out and the surprise attack works exactly the way it should: Niall doesn’t have time to think about his answer, to weigh whether or not it’s worth lying.
‘We’re not doing that, da,’ he says, and it’s the truth. He wants to, one day. He knows Mully and Emilia are, and a couple of his other friends, too. They’ve done a little touching, him and Isla, but nothing more than that—nothing that’s gone very far.
Bobby nods, and Niall exhales, relieved his dad believes him. ‘When you do, you can tell me. I don’t want you to make any stupid mistakes.’
‘Thanks, da,’ Niall makes moves for the stairs, but Bobby calls his name again. He turns back around.
‘She’s a sweet girl, Niall. I like her. Be good to her.’
‘I will, da.’
‘Boys your age can be eejits without realizing it. I just want you to use your head.’
‘You don’t need to worry about that, da. I’m not gonna do anything stupid. I love her.’ He hasn’t said it before, but it comes out easy, natural, the most logical thing in the world. He does love her. There’s no question about it, nothing scary about it, nothing new about it. He’s known it, he realizes, for the better part of a decade now—there hasn’t been a moment of his life since that day in 2000 that he hasn’t, in some way, carried the thought of her through. There hasn’t been a night without a dream about her, an afternoon without a few hours spent fantasizing about life with her. He feels safe and full and like things matter when Isla’s there. He feels happier with her than he could ever imagine being without her. He loves her. He has loved her for a long, long time.
‘Have you told her that?’ Bobby’s asking, and Niall shakes his head.
‘Not yet.’
Bobby nods. ‘Be careful.’
####
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Life in Wakanda with Bucky Barnes would include:
First Time:
You knew Bucky as a mere acquaintance. But beyond that, the endless stories that you heard from Steve made you eager to meet the man.
Bucky had no idea who you were since you were a new recruit to the Avengers.
Just like Bucky, you decided to move to Wakanda upon T’challa and Steve’s persuasion after the mindnumbing mission you had gone with the both of them.
Shuri was kind enough to show you where you were going to live which was near to Bucky house as well.
After Shuri left, you changed into the traditional Wakandan clothes and stepped out of your hut, only to meet the gaze of THE James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes.
And damn did he freeze like a deer in headlights when he saw you
You instantly tensed up the minute he began to walk away from you because damn did he look a greek god.
But you didn’t know that the reason Bucky went away from you was that he had no idea how to interact with such an attractive dame.
Bucky and you would always run into each other unintentionally, or that’s what either of you assumed
But finally got the guts to talk to you upon Shuri’s persuasion
and he did that thing again:
He froze and stuttered.
“He froze like a deer in headlights, our very own white wolf, just like you brother”
“Oh Shuri you have no idea how it feels”
Realizing his starting problem you helped him out
“You’re James aren’t you?”
“Wh-what, how do you know me?”
“Our very own star-spangled boy of course, who else?”
Friendship:
Ever since then for the next couple of days, Bucky would talk to you standing by the lake. For a minimum of five minutes.
Because let's face it, he was scared.
Scared of doing something he's never done before: getting to know an exquisite woman like you.
And the best part was you didn't mind the short-lived meetings every day
As long as you saw him
Until one-day he gathered up the courage to expand this small, budding friendship:
"Would you like to meet my goats?"
"Sure!"
And he went on and on, introducing all of his seven goats patiently to you. The ways his eyes lit up every time he told their names gave you happy jitters in your heart. It was too difficult to stop blushing.
"This one is Steve because this was my first goat ever"
"And this one is Sam because, you know, he's a jerk...but I love him."
And at one point few of the goats, especially the ones named Natasha and Scott kept scuttling around you which made you coo and play with them even more.
Which also made Bucky fall harder for you even more
"So James-"
"Bucky"
"What?"
"Call me Bucky, doll."
Attraction:
Safe to say at least, Bucky no longer ensured that the meetings would last more than five minutes.
They'd last for the whole day.
Bucky wanted to take you to the Wakandan Market since you were always pampered by Shuri to ensure you were supplied with whatever that was needed.
Your breath completely stopped when you saw Bucky.
Geared up in the Red Wakandan robe along with the scarf that covered his left arm fashionably.
With that goddamn rough stubble and his man bun.
How did he do it?? With? One? Arm?
All you could think of was how you wanted to stroke your fingers along the strands of his gorgeous hair and how his beard would feel on your-
"Shall we?" He asked by extending
Now it was your turn to freeze like a deer in headlights.
"Y-yes"
In the market, you ran around like a child seeing a supermarket for the first time. So many artisans selling so many things. Your eyes lit up at every shop amidst the busy crowd.
But Bucky didn't mind the crowd, all of his attention was on you. The way your hair moved and the way your eyes lit up whenever you saw something that interested you extremely.
He even noticed how she completely wrapped arms around his right arm, gripping it harder whenever she was excited.
And he loved it. Made him proud rather
But at one point she rushed off without warning him, which made him worry intensely.
Only to return with a handful of plums.
"I overheard you reprimanding Sam yesterday of how he ate all your plums."
He doesn't know how to respond and unfortunately ends up staring. Again.
"Bucky.exe has stopped working brother."
"Oh leave the man alone Shuri"
You would pop into his hut sometimes, helping him with some daily chores
It felt so domestic and pure, one could get used to this he wondered.
The first move:
In the evening, you and bucky decided to have a bonfire set up
With enough fruits and food, both of you began indulging in stories of the past, showing each other how vulnerable you can become
While Bucky spoke about his literal fall and HYDRA, you spoke about the abusive mission that you had to endure with Steve and T’challa.
“Nothing can ever hurt you now Doll, you’re here with me now”
“And I, with you Bucky”
And involuntarily both of you pulled in together...for a hug.
Your sensations went wild when he buried his nose between your hair and neck, which made you stroke his wavy hair.
After some time, you realized his breathing became uniform and you decided to lean down.
The white wolf has gone to sleep
The next day, bucky woke up entangled between your arms on the grass.
The Bonfire ceased and the sun was up
You looked so peaceful.
He slowly removed his right arm underneath your body, only to move the strands of hair blocking your face.
She's too serene
Too beautiful
Too good for you Bucky.
He knew it right then and there as the first set of the sun's rays fell on the both of them.
She is the one.
Waking up the next day and not finding him next to you made you a tad bit sad, especially since you couldn't spot him the whole day.
The WHOLE DAY.
It was extremely disheartening, maybe thinking something went extremely wrong last night after the beautiful moment you both shared
Until you finally found him babbling to all of his goats at night
And he stopped the minute he saw you
And the conversation became too angsty, asking him where he was the whole day
and damn Bucky was shit scared since you looked so regal and scary under the moonlight.
And in the slip of his tongue:
“I don’t have to always tell you my whereabouts Y/N”
That stung your soul like a wasp
“Did anything mean to you yesterday?”
He panicked like a lost child, seeing tears streaming down your cheek.
And came over to you, tugging you closer, his right arm wiping away those tears
“Everything, doll. Every single minute meant more to me than you think”
Both of your gazes are on each other's lips
And you’re too eager to make the first move
And you do.
It wasn’t needy as you thought it was, but soo passionate
And gosh Bucky could taste the strawberry off your lips, and he wanted to bite those lips of yours
Only to be interrupted by the bleating of his goats, followed by the incessant giggles of you both
“Such a romantic first kiss Bucky”
“Tell me about it”
The fluff domestic life:
You couldn’t believe that both of you were actually a thing
Bucky quickly explained that the only reason that he avoided you that day was that he was nervous and felt he was out of your league.
“That’s so stupid Barnes. Stop thinking like your goats”
“Hey, not a word about my goats!”
T’challa and Shuri were so happy for the both of you were together now
And even helped to move into a slightly bigger house for the both of you
and Bucky’s goats
“Doll, they’re ours now”
Both of you shared a bed, although Bucky was skeptical, especially because of his non-existent arm.
But you reassured him that didn’t matter. Always.
Mornings became lazier, both of you always entangled in each other's arms
“Good morning sleeping beauty”
And Bucky’s hoarse morning voice was a godsend gift
And if you didn’t nudge, he will pepper your face and neck with soft kisses, especially your sweet spot
and eventually, you’d give in sleepily, with a sloppy morning makeout session between the sheets
both of you would cook together although most of the time you ended up learning from him because clearly, he knew way better than you did
and breakfast, lunch, and dinner went by talking and getting to know each other more and more
Bucky would also teach you how to take care of his goats
"Steve and Scott are fine with anything but do not feed Natasha carrots for God's sake"
And you just thought they were goats.
They’re family.
Bucky also flexed his muscles literally and would show how he could do one hand pushups.
And you would definitely take the opportunity to slide underneath his glorious torso because he would peck on your lips every time he came down
and your giggles would drive him crazy
Comforting each other’s nightmares and bad days
And whenever he would get phantom pain on his left arm, you’d massage it and coo sweet sweet words to relax him
“You’re going to be okay bucky, I promise”
Later in the evenings, Bucky would sometimes sit outside to watch the sunset
While you took the opportunity to french braid his hair and putting flowers wherever you could
“I could get used to this doll. Do this every day?”
"I'll think about it"
Followed by Bucky chasing you around until you submit to him
And you eventually do and fortunately get tickled to death
(Things gonna get NSFW kids bye bye chilren)
Sex was never brought up by Bucky though he did want to. He was just a bit hesitant due to his physicality.
But you on the other hand never saw it as a disability
You wanted Bucky. Wanted him so bad.
Like whats not there to want? Great body, soft hair, a really cute ass.
There would be times when the sexual tension was so bad, you both had to leave the room. But alas, it was solved.
It was when you went by the lake surrounded by thick trees, you saw Bucky. An ethereal Bucky.
He was sitting on one of the branches, his legs spread in naked glory, his Blue Wakandan robe conveniently covering his manhood.
Those thighs could kill you
The glorious ends of his hair were dripping with water onto his bare torso. He probably took a dip in the lake
You getting turned on was an understatement because he looked like a fucking god
You whispered his name involuntarily and your brain was clouded with so much lust you had no idea what you were doing.
Bucky, on the other hand, was in the lake a few minutes back because he was hot and bothered thinking about you, and unfortunately had to take care of himself.
Especially because you decided to wear your cute black tank top and shorts with a messy bun, teasing him every time you took a step.
He froze, again of all the times to freeze as he saw you coming towards him, her eyes clearly showcasing one emotion.
You looked up to him, your hands roaming his wet torso and you swore bucky choked.
“Doll you’re so good to me. Are- are you sure?”
“I want you so bad baby. So so bad.”
And all you had to do was jump onto his waist, and wrap your arms around his neck.
Both of you made love to each other for the first time near the lake and it was so hot (figuratively obv ;)
Bucky’s beard burn throughout your body
and he loved to hear those pretty lil moans of yours, making him hard instantly
and he was vocal too, and boy did it make you flip
especially when he whispered hoarsely into your ears
“beautiful girl”
“you feel so good doll”
“Harder baby” you’d moan
and you both came screaming from your highs together. And ever since then, he’d try something every day
But he’s extremely vanilla
and has come to the conclusion that he loves loud sex
because why not.
Both of you would go down on each other whenever you both were stressed
He’d ask you every time if whatever he was doing okay and you didn’t mind.
Because you love this man too much.
Trailing your body down with sloppy kisses was his favorite.
And you? You loved biting him.
You loved his thighs. And riding him every time was your kink.
“You’re a fucking goddess, doll”
And he could never decide if he was a boobs or an ass person
“Its hard baby. You do have great assets”
“I know it's hard” you’d wink
His after sex care was spot on and you ended up cuddling him as always.
Angry sex happened like one time
Because you forgot to mention to Bucky that you were to spend the day with T’challa
some pieces of furniture broke but it was alright
But it ended up with both of you saying those three words for the first time to each other
“I can’t stay mad at you. I love you too much Y/N”
“Oh Bucky I love you too”
And you knew life in Wakanda couldn’t get better
--
Tag: @padmaaavati @marauderette130 @dendrite-lover (ILY frens)
Posted on 18th June, 2019
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes x reader#Bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes headcanon#bucky barnes x reader wakanda#bucky x reader x steve#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes angst#bucky barnes rp#bucky barnes imagines#bucky barnes oneshot#bucky barnes preference#bucky barnes playlist#james buchanan barnes#bucky barnes prompt#bucky barnes hc#bucky barnes aesthetic#bucky barnes blurb#bucky barnes wakanda#Sebastian stan#Saki writes
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St. James Infirmary
Summary: As much as Tommy wanted to fulfill his promise to you to move on, this might be one that he just can’t keep
Paring: Tommy Shelby x Reader
“Let it go, let it go, God bless her
Wherever she may be”
The only thing stopping him from getting up was his wife cuddled on top of him, he envied Grace's ability to sleep throughout the night, he tried his hardest to gently move her, making her stir a little before she stilled again, letting out a silent sigh he sits up and goes to slip on a shirt and his pajama pants, the cold floor on the bottom of his feet didn't bother him like it usually does, for some reason he was burning up despite the fact that it was snowing outside, maybe he was coming down with a cold and had a fever, which would be the last thing he needed right now, he was too busy to have to lay in bed for a week.
Once he arrived to his office he streched and and plopped down in his chair, doing nothing for a moment but stare at the piles of paper on his desk, why did he think it was a good idea to begin doing loads of paperwork while in a drowsy state was beyond him, it was just something in him itching to do it “Well, let’s get this over with, maybe I’ll get bored to sleep” he says to himself while lifting up a pen, once again doing nothing, he didn’t understand what was going on with him lately, this happened for the fifth night in a row, waking up around the same time and not being able to go back to sleep, and if he did he’d just wake back up a couple of hours later, the insomnia begin to show on his face, bags forming under his eyes and his wrinkles becoming more prominent, everyone was worried but him, using the stress of business as an excuse but they knew better.
After all it was nearing the anniversary of your unfortunate death, the family agreed that this was the cause of his unhealthy sleeping schedule but knew well enough not to bring it up, it was too important for him to forget, the reason for his coldness, besides the war, your death drained Tommy of any peace, any faith and hope for the future, he no longer planned ahead or was optimistic, “whatever happens will just have to happen” he once told Polly the evening after your funeral, her heart broke for her nephew, never seeing him give up this easily.
He tossed his pen on a stack of paper before leaning back in his chair “the fuck is the matter with you?” He mumbles, he knew the answer to that question but choose to not acknowledge it, the denial comforting him just a little, the less he remembered the better, he had to fight it and stuff it away, it’s what you wanted, you never liked how he always fussed over you, obsessed over your entire being, so much so that he was willing to change and go fully legit once he arrived home from France “I’ll be an honest man for you, I want you to be proud of me”.
But being an honest businessman wasn’t him, maybe as a lover but not professionally, no matter how much he loved and adored you, there will always be a part of him that would miss his old ways, you never pushed him to be anything he wasn’t, his business was never something you were that into, of course you showed up to family meetings and gave your input when needed, but other than that you kept your opinions to yourself, more comfortable staying behind the scenes.
He still thought of you as an important factor to the company, helping out whenever things got backed up, assisting either him or Polly with whatever they needed, he once caught a glimpse of you and Pol having tea in her office during a break, you had stood up to refill your cup, and when the sunlight hit you he had noticed a pudge in your stomach, it made his heart want to hop out of his chest, how did he not notice it before? You, his dream girl was pregnant with his baby, HIS child, who else? Well he could think of someone else but you hadn’t seen him in over a month, he made sure of it, that part of your life with the prim and proper pretty boy and heir to his fathers newspaper company was over.
It wasn’t until later that night when he finally said something to you about it, wrapping his arms around your waist as you were taking out your earrings, he looked you up and down in the mirror and then pecked your neck “I finally have you for good now” you gave him a dumbfounded look and it only made him chuckle, moving his hands up and down your slightly swollen belly “We’re having a baby YN, a little you and me” your hands begin to shake and he reached over to hold them “Everything is gonna be alright love, it’s all gonna be alright”
He was interrupted from his thoughts when the door opened and soft footsteps made it’s way closer to him, looking up to see his daughter rubbing her eyes and yawning “Hi daddy” he grinned while opening his arms wide, waiting for her to hop into his arms “Hello ladybug, what are you doing up aye?” “I had a dream about mummy, she was singing to me, I wanted to come tell you” he held his baby tight in his arms, not wanting to let her go even more after hearing her confession, she was one of very few things left in the world to remember you by, he obviously had to get rid of your clothes because of Grace, donating them to the local shelters, your jewelry going to Ada, all he had left were two photos and his daughter Tulip Esmeralda, she was the spitting image of you, eyes, hair texture, even your cute high pitched laugh, now that you were gone she was his main priority in this life, sure he cared for Grace, she was beautiful and sweet enough, but she wasn’t you, and especially not his little Tulip, often putting her first which she understood completely, still doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.
“Mummy sounded beautiful didn’t she, love” “Yes dad, just as pretty as she is” he held in his tears and gave her a big kiss on the cheek, she then got down from his lap and kissed his cheek before going to leave “Going so soon, you just got here?” “I just wanted to tell you that daddy, don’t you wanna hear about what mummy is doing in heaven?” He nods and smiles “Course I do” “She loves me and you daddy, the angels are taking care of her...night night!” She runs off back to bed, leaving the door wide open “Night night” he shouts back.
He sits there for a while then hears another pair of footsteps, heavier ones than ones of a seven year old “Thomas?” Grace is standing at the door, wrapping her robe tightly around her “What are you doing up?” She enters the office but he holds a hand up to stop her “It’s alright, I’m coming back to bed, feeling a little drowsy now” she gives him a little smile and he gets up to walk her out “Was that Tulip I heard earlier?” “Yep, she was coming to tell me that she saw YN again” she nods and clears her throat, as hard as she tried to hide her discomfort, it was all over her face, just when she thought that he finally had you out of his system, here came his daughter to place you back in, it wasn’t enough that she had to look at your portrait everyday on the wall next to the staircase, you, him and baby Tulip, he couldn’t bring himself to take that down as well.
“What’s the matter?” He asks, she forces a smile and shakes her head “Nothing, it’s wonderful that she remembers her mum” “Seriously what’s wrong?” Grace sighs and closes the door, this was it, she couldn’t hold back anymore, she knew she would sound like unsympathetic but it was how she felt “Why did you love her more than she loved you?” “Excuse me?” She kept her composure, not wanting to back down so soon “You wanna know who I ran into today in town? David Mills, you know, her ex fiancé...Well we talked, had a deep conversation, mostly about YN, how you framed him for treason and gotten him banned from the United Kingdom for three years, he knew you had something to do with it but could never prove it, and when he returned from America he discovered that YN had moved on, you both had gotten married and Tulip was already like what, two years old? You wanna know what else he told me Thomas? He told me that YN had wrote to him during those years he had been away, she was very much still in love with him, but felt trapped because she had your baby and knew you’d never let her go” “That’s not true” “It very much is, it’s been that way ever since you both were teenagers, she could never break from your chain Thomas you were always-“ she yelped when he slammed his fist up against the wall beside her head, he gripped her jaw and made her look at him “Every time we fuck all I see is her, I see YN, I have to hold myself back from calling her name to not hurt your feelings, don’t think for ONE second that just because I married you that my love for her lessened, it will be her till the day I die, all that I own and posses in this world will go to my daughter when I pass on, all that I’ve earned and built was for our family together, and now that she’s gone the next thing close to her is our child, every single cent Grace, widows don’t always get everything...she’s a nice kid so she might be willing to share with you, consider yourself lucky of her generosity” he lets her go and opens the door and storming out, leaving her there speechless, she lets out a little weep and covers her mouth to muffle her cries.
All this time she’d been jealous of you because of the adoration he held for you, the attention he gave to you, from the outside looking in you were the luckiest girl to have Thomas Shelby wrapped around your finger, her jealousy now turned to pitty, you had no choice but to be his favorite person, you were stuck and trapped up until your last day on Earth, your last day of life would be your only chance of freedom, love really does blind you, it made her miserable and him insane, and poor little Tulip is now the only thing keeping him semi stable, Grace thanks her lucky stars for that kid right now.
...
“Daddy?” “Shh go to sleep my love” “Okay” “Oh, and Tulip” “Yes daddy?” “If mummy visits again tell her that I love her okay” “Okay dad” He smoothes her hair away from her face and watches her drift off to sleep, he looks over to see one of the two pictures of you on her nightstand, “I love you Mrs. Shelby” he whispers, and for a second he could swear he can see you smile wider in the photo.
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Dany’s appreciation (and criticism) of the Dothraki and Viserys
As I was rereading ASOIAF, I made it my goal to compile all* the book passages demonstrating either certain key attributes of Daenerys Targaryen (e.g. that she's compassionate and empathetic) or aspects of hers that are usually overblown (e.g. that she's violent and ambitious). Doing such a task may seem exaggerated, but I'd argue it's not, for many, many misconceptions about Dany have become widespread in light of the show's final season's events (and even before).
It must be acknowledged that it can be tricky to reference, say, ADWD passages to counter-argument how she was depicted in season eight (which allegedly follows ADOS events). Dany will have had plenty of character development in the span of two books. However, whatever happens to Dany in the next two books, I would argue that there is more than enough material to conclude that her show counterpart was made to fall for flaws that she (for the most part) never had and actions that she (for the most part) would never take.
Another objection to the purpose of these lists is that Game of Thrones is different from A Song of Ice and Fire and should be analyzed on its own, which is a fair point. However, the show is also an adaptation of these books, which begs the questions: why did they change Dany's character? Why did they overfocus on negative traits of hers or depicted them as negative when they weren't supposed to be or gave her negative traits that were never hers to begin with? Another fact that undermines the show=/=books argument is that most people think that the show's ending will be the books', albeit only in broad strokes and in different circumstances. As a result, people's perception of Dany is inevitably influenced by the show, which is a shame.
I hope these lists can be useful for whoever wants to find book passages to defend Dany's character in analysis or even conversations.
*Well, at least all the passages that I could find.
Also, people may interpret certain passages differently and then come up with a different collection of passages, so I'm not arguing that this list is completely objective (nor that there could ever be one).
Also, some passages have been cut short according to whether they were, IMO, relevant to the specific topic of the list they're in, so the context surrounding them may not always be clear (always read the books!). Many of them appear in different lists, sometimes fully cited, sometimes not.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
To justify the existence of this list, let's see examples of widespread opinions that I feel misrepresent Daenerys Targaryen:
Would Dany’s return actually be good for the realm? She offers a fairly similar vision of Westeros to the Dothraki that her late husband Khal Drogo did back in season one, but for the common folk of Westeros, that would likely mean their homes and livelihood being destroyed by nomadic invaders with a penchant for violence. (x)
~
The problem is that Daenerys has come of age with Viserys and then the Dothraki: two parties who only ever cared about conquest. Maybe it’s too sweeping to say that conquest is always wrong. But, perhaps Daenerys needs to realize that war is rarely justified when it is just for one person’s glory. And I’m not sure that that will ever happen. (x)
Bonus from the same source linked above: Fundamentally, Daenerys has a good heart – and maybe Jon can show her the way.
Is Dany so lacking in moral conscience and critical thinking that she can't discern what's good and what's bad from the Dothraki and Viserys's influence? I would argue that the books tell a different story.
Also, fuck that person for saying that maybe Jon can show her the way (to goodness or peace or whatever). FUCK THAT PERSON.
A Dance with Dragons
ADWD Daenerys X
Dany set off through the tall grass at a brisk pace. The earth felt warm between her toes. The grass was as tall as she was. It never seemed so high when I was mounted on my silver, riding beside my sun-and-stars at the head of his khalasar.
~
Only the birth of her dragons amidst the fire and smoke of Khal Drogo’s funeral pyre had spared Dany herself from being dragged back to Vaes Dothrak to live out the remainder of her days amongst the crones of the dosh khaleen.
~
She wondered how the ants had managed to climb over it and find her. To them these tumbledown stones must loom as huge as the Wall of Westeros. The biggest wall in all the world, her brother Viserys used to say, as proud as if he’d built it himself.
Viserys told her tales of knights so poor that they had to sleep beneath the ancient hedges that grew along the byways of the Seven Kingdoms. Dany would have given much and more for a nice thick hedge. Preferably one without an anthill.
~
A few bright stars lingered in the cobalt sky. Perhaps one of them is Khal Drogo, sitting on his fiery stallion in the night lands and smiling down on me.
~
Would the horse god of the Dothraki part the grass and claim her for his starry khalasar, so she might ride the nightlands with Khal Drogo? In Westeros the dead of House Targaryen were given to the flames, but who would light her pyre here? My flesh will feed the wolves and carrion crows, she thought sadly, and worms will burrow through my womb.
~
She dreamt of her dead brother.
Viserys looked just as he had the last time she’d seen him. His mouth was twisted in anguish, his hair was burnt, and his face was black and smoking where the molten gold had run down across his brow and cheeks and into his eyes.
“You are dead,” Dany said.
Murdered. Though his lips never moved, somehow she could hear his voice, whispering in her ear. You never mourned me, sister. It is hard to die unmourned.
“I loved you once.”
Once, he said, so bitterly it made her shudder. You were supposed to be my wife, to bear me children with silver hair and purple eyes, to keep the blood of the dragon pure. I took care of you. I taught you who you were. I fed you. I sold our mother’s crown to keep you fed.
“You hurt me. You frightened me.”
Only when you woke the dragon. I loved you. “You sold me. You betrayed me.”
No. You were the betrayer. You turned against me, against your own blood. They cheated me. Your horsey husband and his stinking savages. They were cheats and liars. They promised me a golden crown and gave me this. He touched the molten gold that was creeping down his face, and smoke rose from his finger.
“You could have had your crown,” Dany told him. “My sun-and-stars would have won it for you if only you had waited.”
I waited long enough. I waited my whole life. I was their king, their rightful king. They laughed at me.
“You should have stayed in Pentos with Magister Illyrio. Khal Drogo had to present me to the dosh khaleen, but you did not have to ride with us. That was your choice. Your mistake.”
Do you want to wake the dragon, you stupid little whore? Drogo’s khalasar was mine. I bought them from him, a hundred thousand screamers. I paid for them with your maidenhead.
“You never understood. Dothraki do not buy and sell. They give gifts and receive them. If you had waited ...”
I did wait. For my crown, for my throne, for you. All those years, and all I ever got was a pot of molten gold. Why did they give the dragon’s eggs to you? They should have been mine. If I’d had a dragon, I would have taught the world the meaning of our words.
~
One rider, and alone. A scout. He was one who rode before the khalasar to find the game and the good green grass, and sniff out foes wherever they might hide. If he found her there, he would kill her, rape her, or enslave her. At best, he would send her back to the crones of the dosh khaleen, where good khaleesi were supposed to go when their khals had died.
ADWD Daenerys IX
Dany could hear her handmaids arguing behind her, debating who was going to win the day’s final match. Jhiqui favored the gigantic Goghor, who looked more bull than man, even to the bronze ring in his nose. Irri insisted that Belaquo Bonebreaker’s flail would prove the giant’s undoing. My handmaids are Dothraki, she told herself. Death rides with every khalasar. The day she wed Khal Drogo, the arakhs had flashed at her wedding feast, and men had died whilst others drank and mated. Life and death went hand in hand amongst the horselords, and a sprinkling of blood was thought to bless a marriage. Her new marriage would soon be drenched in blood. How blessed it would be.
~
In Westeros the septons spoke of seven hells and seven heavens, but the Seven Kingdoms and their gods were far away. If she died here, Dany wondered, would the horse god of the Dothraki part the grass and claim her for his starry khalasar, so she might ride the nightlands beside her sun-and-stars? Or would the angry gods of Ghis send their harpies to seize her soul and drag her down to torment?
ADWD Daenerys VII
Dany envied the Dothraki maids their loose sandsilk trousers and painted vests. They would be much cooler than her in her tokar, with its heavy fringe of baby pearls. “Help me wind this round myself, please. I cannot manage all these pearls by myself.”
~
“Have my silver saddled. I would not go to my lord husband upon the backs of bearers.”
ADWD Daenerys V
The day might come soon when she would have need of every knight. “Will they joust for me? I should like that.” Viserys had told her stories of the tourneys he had witnessed in the Seven Kingdoms, but Dany had never seen a joust herself.
“They are not ready, Your Grace. When they are, they will be pleased to demonstrate their prowess.”
~
Daario should be here, and my bloodriders, she thought. If there is to be a battle, the blood of my blood should be with me.
ADWD Daenerys IV
“Most queens have no purpose but to warm some king’s bed and pop out sons for him. If that’s the sort of queen you mean to be, best marry Hizdahr.”
Her anger flashed. “Have you forgotten who I am?”
“No. Have you?”
Viserys would have his head off for that insolence. “I am the blood of the dragon. Do not presume to teach me lessons.” When Dany stood, the lion pelt slipped from her shoulders and tumbled to the ground. “Leave me.”
ADWD Daenerys III
“Dothraki make slaves, Ghiscari train them. And to reach Qarth, the horselords must needs drive their captives across the red waste. Hundreds would die, if not thousands … and many horses too, which is why no khal will risk it. And there is this: Qarth wants no khalasars seething round our walls. The stench of all those horses … meaning no offense, Khaleesi.”
“A horse has an honest smell. That is more than can be said of some great lords and merchant princes.”
ADWD Daenerys I
Dothraki were wise where horses were concerned, but could be utter fools about much else.
~
Daenerys pushed her hair back. “Find these cowards for me. Find them, so that I might teach the Harpy’s Sons what it means to wake the dragon.”
~
“Soldiers, not warriors, if it please Your Grace. They were made for the battlefield, to stand shoulder to shoulder behind their shields with their spears thrust out before them. Their training teaches them to obey, fearlessly, perfectly, without thought or hesitation ... not to unravel secrets or ask questions.”
“Would knights serve me any better?” [...]
“Not in this,” the old man admitted. “And Your Grace has no knights, save me. It will be years before the boys are ready.”
“Then who, if not Unsullied? Dothraki would be even worse.” Dothraki fought from horseback. Mounted men were of more use in open fields and hills than in the narrow streets and alleys of the city.
A Storm of Swords
ASOS Daenerys VI
“When I sent you down into the sewers, part of me hoped I’d seen the last of you. It seemed a fitting end for liars, to drown in slavers’ filth. I thought the gods would deal with you, but instead you returned to me. My gallant knights of Westeros, an informer and a turncloak. My brother would have hanged you both.” Viserys, would have, anyway. She did not know what Rhaegar would have done.
~
Irri helped her slip from her court clothes and into more comfortable garb; baggy woolen breeches, a loose felted tunic, a painted Dothraki vest.
~
“Aegon the Conqueror brought fire and blood to Westeros, but afterward he gave them peace, prosperity, and justice. But all I have brought to Slaver’s Bay is death and ruin. I have been more khal than queen, smashing and plundering, then moving on.”
ASOS Daenerys V
High on the walls of Meereen, the jeers had grown louder, and now hundreds of the defenders were taking their lead from the hero and pissing down through the ramparts to show their contempt for the besiegers. They are pissing on slaves, to show how little they fear us, she thought. They would never dare such a thing if it were a Dothraki khalasar outside their gates.
~
“What if we were to build siege towers? My brother Viserys told tales of such, I know they can be made.”
ASOS Daenerys IV
She had made Jhogo, Aggo, and Rakharo her kos as well as her bloodriders, and just now she needed them more to command her Dothraki than to protect her person. Her khalasar was tiny, some thirty-odd mounted warriors, and most of them braidless boys and bentback old men. Yet they were all the horse she had, and she dared not go without them.
ASOS Daenerys III
Today she rode her silver, clad in horsehair pants and painted leather vest, a bronze medallion belt about her waist and two more crossed between her breasts. Irri and Jhiqui had braided her hair and hung it with a tiny silver bell whose chime sang of the Undying of Qarth, burned in their Palace of Dust.
ASOS Daenerys II
The old man had not wanted to sail to Astapor; nor did he favor buying this slave army. A queen should hear all sides before reaching a decision. That was why Dany had brought him with her to the Plaza of Pride, not to keep her safe. Her bloodriders would do that well enough.
~
And some had skins of the same amber hue as Kraznys mo Nakloz, and the bristly red-black hair that marked the ancient folk of Ghis, who named themselves the harpy’s sons. They sell even their own kind. It should not have surprised her. The Dothraki did the same, when khalasar met khalasar in the sea of grass.
~
Aggo and Jhogo fell in to either side of them, walking with the bowlegged swagger all the horselords affected when forced to dismount and stride the earth like common mortals.
~
She set her mouth grimly and gave her head a shake, and the bell in her braid chimed softly.
~
“You speak of sacking cities. Answer me this, ser—why have the Dothraki never sacked this city?” She pointed. “Look at the walls. You can see where they’ve begun to crumble. There, and there. Do you see any guards on those towers? I don’t. Are they hiding, ser? I saw these sons of the harpy today, all their proud highborn warriors. They dressed in linen skirts, and the fiercest thing about them was their hair. Even a modest khalasar could crack this Astapor like a nut and spill out the rotted meat inside. So tell me, why is that ugly harpy not sitting beside the godsway in Vaes Dothrak among the other stolen gods?”
A Clash of Kings
ACOK Daenerys V
She was breaking her fast on a bowl of cold shrimp-and-persimmon soup when Irri brought her a Qartheen gown, an airy confection of ivory samite patterned with seed pearls. “Take it away,” Dany said. “The docks are no place for lady’s finery.”
If the Milk Men thought her such a savage, she would dress the part for them. When she went to the stables, she wore faded sandsilk pants and woven grass sandals. Her small breasts moved freely beneath a painted Dothraki vest, and a curved dagger hung from her medallion belt. Jhiqui had braided her hair Dothraki-fashion, and fastened a silver bell to the end of the braid. “I have won no victories,” she tried telling her handmaid when the bell tinkled softly.
Jhiqui disagreed. “You burned the maegi in their house of dust and sent their souls to hell.”
That was Drogon’s victory, not mine, Dany wanted to say, but she held her tongue. The Dothraki would esteem her all the more for a few bells in her hair.
~
She chimed as she mounted her silver mare, and again with every stride [...] At least when she rode she felt as though she was getting somewhere.
~
Well, perhaps it was time. The people of her khalasar had welcomed the chance to recover from the ravages of the red waste, but now that they were plump and rested once again, they began to grow unruly. Dothraki were not accustomed to staying long in one place. They were a warrior people, not made for cities.
~
“I smell it, Khaleesi,” he called. “The poison water.” The Dothraki distrusted the sea and all that moved upon it. Water that a horse could not drink was water they wanted no part of. They will learn, Dany resolved. I braved their sea with Khal Drogo. Now they can brave mine.
ACOK Daenerys IV
Aggo put a hand on his arakh. “Khaleesi, it is said that many go into the Palace of Dust, but few come out.”
“It is said,” Jhogo agreed.
“We are blood of your blood,” said Aggo, “sworn to live and die as you do. Let us walk with you in this dark place, to keep you safe from harm.”
“Some places even a khal must walk alone,” Dany said.
~
The blood of the dragon must not be afraid. Dany said a quick prayer, begging the Warrior for courage and the Dothraki horse god for strength. She made herself walk forward.
ACOK Daenerys III
“A firemage, Khaleesi.”
“I want to see.”
“Then you must.” The Dothraki offered a hand down. When she took it, he pulled her up onto his horse and sat her in front of him, where she could see over the heads of the crowd. The firemage had conjured a ladder in the air, a crackling orange ladder of swirling flame that rose unsupported from the floor of the bazaar, reaching toward the high latticed roof.
Most of the spectators, she noticed, were not of the city: she saw sailors off trading ships, merchants come by caravan, dusty men out of the red waste, wandering soldiers, craftsmen, slavers. Jhogo slid one hand about her waist and leaned close. “The Milk Men shun him. Khaleesi, do you see the girl in the felt hat? There, behind the fat priest. She is a—”
“—cutpurse,” finished Dany. She was no pampered lady, blind to such things. She had seen cutpurses aplenty in the streets of the Free Cities, during the years she’d spent with her brother, running from the Usurper’s hired knives.
ACOK Daenerys II
The thought of home disquieted her. If her sun-and-stars had lived, he would have led his khalasar across the poison water and swept away her enemies, but his strength had left the world. Her bloodriders remained, sworn to her for life and skilled in slaughter, but only in the ways of the horselords. The Dothraki sacked cities and plundered kingdoms, they did not rule them. Dany had no wish to reduce King’s Landing to a blackened ruin full of unquiet ghosts. She had supped enough on tears. I want to make my kingdom beautiful, to fill it with fat men and pretty maids and laughing children. I want my people to smile when they see me ride by, the way Viserys said they smiled for my father.
But before she could do that she must conquer.
[...]When Khal Drogo had lived, men trembled and made him gifts to stay his wrath. If they did not, he took their cities, wealth and wives and all. But his khalasar had been vast, while hers was meager. Her people had followed her across the red waste as she chased her comet, and would follow her across the poison water too, but they would not be enough. Even her dragons might not be enough. Viserys had believed that the realm would rise for its rightful king ... but Viserys had been a fool, and fools believe in foolish things.
Her doubts made her shiver.
ACOK Daenerys I
“Your hair is coming back, Khaleesi,” Jhiqui said as she scraped sand off her back. Dany ran a hand over the top of her head, feeling the new growth. Dothraki men wore their hair in long oiled braids, and cut them only when defeated. Perhaps I should do the same, she thought, to remind them that Drogo’s strength lives within me now. Khal Drogo had died with his hair uncut, a boast few men could make.
~
“My handmaids say there are ghosts here.”
“There are ghosts everywhere,” Ser Jorah said softly. “We carry them with us wherever we go.”
Yes, she thought. Viserys, Khal Drogo, my son Rhaego, they are with me always.
A Game of Thrones
AGOT Daenerys X
Then there was nothing to be done but watch the sun and look for the first star.
When a horselord dies, his horse is slain with him, so he might ride proud into the night lands. The bodies are burned beneath the open sky, and the khal rises on his fiery steed to take his place among the stars. The more fiercely the man burned in life, the brighter his star will shine in the darkness.
Jhogo spied it first. “There,” he said in a hushed voice. Dany looked and saw it, low in the east. The first star was a comet, burning red. Bloodred; fire red; the dragon’s tail. She could not have asked for a stronger sign.
AGOT Daenerys IX
“It was her fate, Khaleesi,” said Aggo.
If I look back I am lost. “It was a cruel fate,” Dany said, “yet not so cruel as Mago’s will be. I promise you that, by the old gods and the new, by the lamb god and the horse god and every god that lives. I swear it by the Mother of Mountains and the Womb of the World. Before I am done with them, Mago and Ko Jhaqo will plead for the mercy they showed Eroeh.”
~
The memory of their first ride was with her when she led him out into the darkness, for the Dothraki believed that all things of importance in a man’s life must be done beneath the open sky. She told herself that there were powers stronger than hatred, and spells older and truer than any the maegi had learned in Asshai. The night was black and moonless, but overhead a million stars burned bright. She took that for an omen.
No soft blanket of grass welcomed them here, only the hard dusty ground, bare and strewn with stones. No trees stirred in the wind, and there was no stream to soothe her fears with the gentle music of water. Dany told herself that the stars would be enough. “Remember, Drogo,” she whispered. “Remember our first ride together, the day we wed. Remember the night we made Rhaego, with the khalasar all around us and your eyes on my face. Remember how cool and clean the water was in the Womb of the World. Remember, my sun-and-stars. Remember, and come back to me.”
AGOT Daenerys VIII
The child kicked inside her, as if he had heard. Dany remembered the story Viserys had told her, of what the Usurper’s dogs had done to Rhaegar’s children. His son had been a babe as well, yet they had ripped him from his mother’s breast and dashed his head against a wall. That was the way of men. “They must not hurt my son!” she cried.
~
Dany did not want to go back to Vaes Dothrak and live the rest of her life among those terrible old women, yet she knew that the knight spoke the truth. Drogo had been more than her sun-and-stars; he had been the shield that kept her safe. “I will not leave him,” she said stubbornly, miserably. She took his hand again. “I will not.”
~
“Khaleesi,” he pleaded, “you must not do this thing. Let me kill this maegi.”
“Kill her and you kill your khal,” Dany said.
“This is bloodmagic,” he said. “It is forbidden.”
“I am khaleesi, and I say it is not forbidden. In Vaes Dothrak, Khal Drogo slew a stallion and I ate his heart, to give our son strength and courage. This is the same. The same.”
~
Mirri Maz Duur had no use for the carcass. “Burn it,” Dany told them. It was what they did, she knew. When a man died, his mount was killed and placed beneath him on the funeral pyre, to carry him to the night lands. The men of her khas dragged the carcass from the tent.
AGOT Daenerys VII
Ser Jorah said the people of this country named themselves the Lhazareen, but the Dothraki called them haesh rakhi, the Lamb Men. Once Dany might have taken them for Dothraki, for they had the same copper skin and almond-shaped eyes. Now they looked alien to her, squat and flat-faced, their black hair cropped unnaturally short. They were herders of sheep and eaters of vegetables, and Khal Drogo said they belonged south of the river bend. The grass of the Dothraki sea was not meant for sheep.
~
“Jhogo, Quaro, you will aid Ser Jorah. I want no rape.”
The warriors exchanged a baffled look.
Jorah Mormont spurred his horse closer. “Princess,” he said, “you have a gentle heart, but you do not understand. This is how it has always been. Those men have shed blood for the khal. Now they claim their reward.”
Across the road, the girl was still crying, her high singsong tongue strange to Dany’s ears. The first man was done with her now, and a second had taken his place.
“She is a lamb girl,” Quaro said in Dothraki. “She is nothing, Khaleesi. The riders do her honor. The Lamb Men lay with sheep, it is known.”
“It is known,” her handmaid Irri echoed.
“It is known,” agreed Jhogo, astride the tall grey stallion that Drogo had given him. “If her wailing offends your ears, Khaleesi, Jhogo will bring you her tongue.” He drew his arakh.
“I will not have her harmed,” Dany said. “I claim her. Do as I command you, or Khal Drogo will know the reason why.”
“Ai, Khaleesi,” Jhogo replied, kicking his horse. Quaro and the others followed his lead, the bells in their hair chiming.
~
Dany heard Jhogo shout. The rapers laughed at him. One man shouted back. Jhogo’s arakh flashed, and the man’s head went tumbling from his shoulders. Laughter turned to curses as the horsemen reached for weapons, but by then Quaro and Aggo and Rakharo were there. She saw Aggo point across the road to where she sat upon her silver. The riders looked at her with cold black eyes. One spat. The others scattered to their mounts, muttering.
All the while the man atop the lamb girl continued to plunge in and out of her, so intent on his pleasure that he seemed unaware of what was going on around him. Ser Jorah dismounted and wrenched him off with a mailed hand. The Dothraki went sprawling in the mud, bounced up with a knife in hand, and died with Aggo’s arrow through his throat.
~
A mounted warrior rode up and vaulted from his saddle. He spoke to Haggo, a stream of angry Dothraki too fast for Dany to understand. The huge bloodrider gave her a heavy look before he turned to his khal. “This one is Mago, who rides in the khas of Ko Jhaqo. He says the khaleesi has taken his spoils, a daughter of the lambs who was his to mount.”
Khal Drogo’s face was still and hard, but his black eyes were curious as they went to Dany. “Tell me the truth of this, moon of my life,” he commanded in Dothraki.
Dany told him what she had done, in his own tongue so the khal would understand her better, her words simple and direct.
When she was done, Drogo was frowning. “This is the way of war. These women are our slaves now, to do with as we please.”
“It pleases me to hold them safe,” Dany said, wondering if she had dared too much. “If your warriors would mount these women, let them take them gently and keep them for wives. Give them places in the khalasar and let them bear you sons.”
Qotho was ever the cruelest of the bloodriders. It was he who laughed. “Does the horse breed with the sheep?”
Something in his tone reminded her of Viserys. Dany turned on him angrily. “The dragon feeds on horse and sheep alike.”
Khal Drogo smiled. “See how fierce she grows!” he said. “It is my son inside her, the stallion who mounts the world, filling her with his fire. Ride slowly, Qotho ... if the mother does not burn you where you sit, the son will trample you into the mud. And you, Mago, hold your tongue and find another lamb to mount. These belong to my khaleesi.”
AGOT Daenerys VI
She had never seen the Seven Kingdoms either, no more than Drogo, yet she felt as though she knew them from all the tales her brother had told her. Viserys had promised her a thousand times that he would take her back one day, but he was dead now and his promises had died with him.
~
Home? The word made her feel sad. Ser Jorah had his Bear Island, but what was home to her? A few tales, names recited as solemnly as the words of a prayer, the fading memory of a red door ... was Vaes Dothrak to be her home forever? When she looked at the crones of the dosh khaleen, was she looking at her future?
~
The day was warm and cloudless, the sky a deep blue. When the wind blew, she could smell the rich scents of grass and earth. As her litter passed beneath the stolen monuments, she went from sunlight to shadow and back again. Dany swayed along, studying the faces of dead heroes and forgotten kings. She wondered if the gods of burned cities could still answer prayers.
If I were not the blood of the dragon, she thought wistfully, this could be my home. She was khaleesi, she had a strong man and a swift horse, handmaids to serve her, warriors to keep her safe, an honored place in the dosh khaleen awaiting her when she grew
old ... and in her womb grew a son who would one day bestride the world. That should be enough for any woman ... but not for the dragon. With Viserys gone, Daenerys was the last, the very last. She was the seed of kings and conquerors, and so too the child inside her. She must not forget.
AGOT Daenerys V
A procession followed them out onto the godsway, the broad grassy road that ran through the heart of Vaes Dothrak, from the horse gate to the Mother of Mountains. The crones of the dosh khaleen came first, with their eunuchs and slaves. Some supported themselves with tall carved staffs as they struggled along on ancient, shaking legs, while others walked as proud as any horselord. Each of the old women had been a khaleesi once. When their lord husbands died and a new khal took his place at the front of his riders, with a new khaleesi mounted beside him, they were sent here, to reign over the vast Dothraki nation. Even the mightiest of khals bowed to the wisdom and authority of the dosh khaleen. Still, it gave Dany the shivers to think that one day she might be sent to join them, whether she willed it or no.
~
“He has no gold to pay soldiers. What if he’s betrayed?” Caravan guards were seldom troubled much by thoughts of honor, and the Usurper in King’s Landing would pay well for her brother’s head.
~
“Then ... he should have them. He does not need to steal them. He had only to ask. He is my brother ... and my true king.”
“He is your brother,” Ser Jorah acknowledged.
“You do not understand, ser,” she said. “My mother died giving me birth, and my father and my brother Rhaegar even before that. I would never have known so much as their names if Viserys had not been there to tell me. He was the only one left. The only one. He is all I have.”
“Once,” said Ser Jorah. “No longer, Khaleesi. You belong to the Dothraki now. In your womb rides the stallion who mounts the world.”
AGOT Daenerys IV
Beyond the horse gate, plundered gods and stolen heroes loomed to either side of them. The forgotten deities of dead cities brandished their broken thunderbolts at the sky as Dany rode her silver past their feet. Stone kings looked down on her from their thrones, their faces chipped and stained, even their names lost in the mists of time. Lithe young maidens danced on marble plinths, draped only in flowers, or poured air from shattered jars. Monsters stood in the grass beside the road; black iron dragons with jewels for eyes, roaring griffins, manticores with their barbed tails poised to strike, and other beasts she could not name. Some of the statues were so lovely they took her breath away, others so misshapen and terrible that Dany could scarcely bear to look at them. Those, Ser Jorah said, had likely come from the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai.
“So many,” she said as her silver stepped slowly onward, “and from so many lands.”
Viserys was less impressed. “The trash of dead cities,” he sneered. He was careful to speak in the Common Tongue, which few Dothraki could understand, yet even so Dany found herself glancing back at the men of her khas, to make certain he had not been overheard. He went on blithely. “All these savages know how to do is steal the things better men have built ... and kill.” He laughed. “They do know how to kill. Otherwise I’d have no use for them at all.”
“They are my people now,” Dany said. “You should not call them savages, brother.”
“The dragon speaks as he likes,” Viserys said ... in the Common Tongue. He glanced over his shoulder at Aggo and Rakharo, riding behind them, and favored them with a mocking smile. “See, the savages lack the wit to understand the speech of civilized men.”
~
Every khal had his bloodriders. At first Dany had thought of them as a kind of Dothraki Kingsguard, sworn to protect their lord, but it went further than that. Jhiqui had taught her that a bloodrider was more than a guard; they were the khal’s brothers, his shadows, his fiercest friends. “Blood of my blood,” Drogo called them, and so it was; they shared a single life. The ancient traditions of the horselords demanded that when the khal died, his bloodriders died with him, to ride at his side in the night lands. If the khal died at the hands of some enemy, they lived only long enough to avenge him, and then followed him joyfully into the grave. In some khalasars, Jhiqui said, the bloodriders shared the khal’s wine, his tent, and even his wives, though never his horses. A man’s mount was his own.
Daenerys was glad that Khal Drogo did not hold to those ancient ways. She should not have liked being shared. And while old Cohollo treated her kindly enough, the others frightened her; Haggo, huge and silent, often glowered as if he had forgotten who she was, and Qotho had cruel eyes and quick hands that liked to hurt. He left bruises on Doreah’s soft white skin whenever he touched her, and sometimes made Irri sob in the night. Even his horses seemed to fear him.
Yet they were bound to Drogo for life and death, so Daenerys had no choice but to accept them. And sometimes she found herself wishing her father had been protected by such men. In the songs, the white knights of the Kingsguard were ever noble, valiant, and true, and yet King Aerys had been murdered by one of them, the handsome boy they now called the Kingslayer, and a second, Ser Barristan the Bold, had gone over to the Usurper. She wondered if all men were as false in the Seven Kingdoms. When her son sat the Iron Throne, she would see that he had bloodriders of his own to protect him against treachery in his Kingsguard.
~
“I will give my brother his gifts tonight,” she decided as Jhiqui was washing her hair. “He should look a king in the sacred city. Doreah, run and find him and invite him to sup with me.”
[...] While her handmaids prepared the meal, Dany laid out the clothing she’d had made to her brother’s measure: a tunic and leggings of crisp white linen, leather sandals that laced up to the knee, a bronze medallion belt, a leather vest painted with fire-breathing dragons. The Dothraki would respect him more if he looked less a beggar, she hoped, and perhaps he would forgive her for shaming him that day in the grass. He was still her king, after all, and her brother. They were both blood of the dragon.
She was arranging the last of his gifts—a sandsilk cloak, green as grass, with a pale grey border that would bring out the silver in his hair—when Viserys arrived, dragging Doreah by the arm.
~
“Look. These are for you.”
Viserys frowned suspiciously. “What is all this?”
“New raiment. I had it made for you.” Dany smiled shyly.
He looked at her and sneered. “Dothraki rags. Do you presume to dress me now?”
“Please ... you’ll be cooler and more comfortable, and I thought ... maybe if you dressed like them, the Dothraki ... ” Dany did not know how to say it without waking his dragon.
“Next you’ll want to braid my hair.”
“I’d never ... ” Why was he always so cruel? She had only wanted to help. “You have no right to a braid, you have won no victories yet.”
It was the wrong thing to say. Fury shone from his lilac eyes, yet he dared not strike her, not with her handmaids watching and the warriors of her khas outside. Viserys picked up the cloak and sniffed at it. “This stinks of manure. Perhaps I shall use it as a horse blanket.”
“I had Doreah sew it specially for you,” she told him, wounded. “These are garments fit for a khal.”
“I am the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, not some grass-stained savage with bells in his hair,” Viserys spat back at her. He grabbed her arm. “You forget yourself, slut. Do you think that big belly will protect you if you wake the dragon?”
His fingers dug into her arm painfully and for an instant Dany felt like a child again, quailing in the face of his rage. She reached out with her other hand and grabbed the first thing she touched, the belt she’d hoped to give him, a heavy chain of ornate bronze medallions. She swung it with all her strength.
It caught him full in the face. Viserys let go of her. Blood ran down his cheek where the edge of one of the medallions had sliced it open. “You are the one who forgets himself,” Dany said to him. “Didn’t you learn anything that day in the grass? Leave me now, before I summon my khas to drag you out. And pray that Khal Drogo does not hear of this, or he will cut open your belly and feed you your own entrails.”
AGOT Daenerys III
“Wait here,” Dany told Ser Jorah. “Tell them all to stay. Tell them I command it.”
The knight smiled. Ser Jorah was not a handsome man. He had a neck and shoulders like a bull, and coarse black hair covered his arms and chest so thickly that there was none left for his head. Yet his smiles gave Dany comfort. “You are learning to talk like a queen, Daenerys.”
“Not a queen,” said Dany. “A khaleesi.” She wheeled her horse about and galloped down the ridge alone.
The descent was steep and rocky, but Dany rode fearlessly, and the joy and the danger of it were a song in her heart. All her life Viserys had told her she was a princess, but not until she rode her silver had Daenerys Targaryen ever felt like one.
~
From that hour onward, each day was easier than the one before it. Her legs grew stronger; her blisters burst and her hands grew callused; her soft thighs toughened, supple as leather.
The khal had commanded the handmaid Irri to teach Dany to ride in the Dothraki fashion, but it was the filly who was her real teacher. The horse seemed to know her moods, as if they shared a single mind. With every passing day, Dany felt surer in her seat. The Dothraki were a hard and unsentimental people, and it was not their custom to name their animals, so Dany thought of her only as the silver. She had never loved anything so much.
As the riding became less an ordeal, Dany began to notice the beauties of the land around her. She rode at the head of the khalasar with Drogo and his bloodriders, so she came to each country fresh and unspoiled. Behind them the great horde might tear the earth and muddy the rivers and send up clouds of choking dust, but the fields ahead of them were always green and verdant.
~
By then her agony was a fading memory. She still ached after a long day’s riding, yet somehow the pain had a sweetness to it now, and each morning she came willingly to her saddle, eager to know what wonders waited for her in the lands ahead. She began to find pleasure even in her nights, and if she still cried out when Drogo took her, it was not always in pain.
~
At the bottom of the ridge, the grasses rose around her, tall and supple. Dany slowed to a trot and rode out onto the plain, losing herself in the green, blessedly alone. In the khalasar, she was never alone. Khal Drogo came to her only after the sun went down, but her handmaids fed her and bathed her and slept by the door of her tent, Drogo’s bloodriders and the men of her khas were never far, and her brother was an unwelcome shadow, day and night. Dany could hear him on the top of the ridge, his voice shrill with anger as he shouted at Ser Jorah. She rode on, submerging herself deeper in the Dothraki sea.
The green swallowed her up. The air was rich with the scents of earth and grass, mixed with the smell of horseflesh and Dany’s sweat and the oil in her hair. Dothraki smells. They seemed to belong here. Dany breathed it all in, laughing. She had a sudden urge to feel the ground beneath her, to curl her toes in that thick black soil. Swinging down from her saddle, she let the silver graze while she pulled off her high boots.
~
“Have you forgotten who you are? Look at you. Look at you!”
Dany did not need to look. She was barefoot, with oiled hair, wearing Dothraki riding leathers and a painted vest given her as a bride gift. She looked as though she belonged here. Viserys was soiled and stained in city silks and ringmail.
~
“Take his horse,” Dany commanded Ser Jorah. Viserys gaped at her. He could not believe what he was hearing; nor could Dany quite believe what she was saying. Yet the words came. “Let my brother walk behind us back to the khalasar.” Among the Dothraki, the man who does not ride was no man at all, the lowest of the low, without honor or pride. “Let everyone see him as he is.”
~
“He could not lead an army even if my lord husband gave him one,” Dany said. “He has no coin and the only knight who follows him reviles him as less than a snake. The Dothraki make mock of his weakness. He will never take us home.”
“Wise child.” The knight smiled.
“I am no child,” she told him fiercely. Her heels pressed into the sides of her mount, rousing the silver to a gallop. Faster and faster she raced, leaving Jorah and Irri and the others far behind, the warm wind in her hair and the setting sun red on her face. By the time she reached the khalasar, it was dusk.
~
There is no privacy in the heart of the khalasar. Dany felt the eyes on her as she undressed him, heard the soft voices as she did the things that Doreah had told her to do. It was nothing to her. Was she not khaleesi? His were the only eyes that mattered, and when she mounted him she saw something there that she had never seen before. She rode him as fiercely as ever she had ridden her silver, and when the moment of his pleasure came, Khal Drogo called out her name.
AGOT Daenerys II
She was a young filly, spirited and splendid. Dany knew just enough about horses to know that this was no ordinary animal. There was something about her that took the breath away. She was grey as the winter sea, with a mane like silver smoke.
Hesitantly she reached out and stroked the horse’s neck, ran her fingers through the silver of her mane. Khal Drogo said something in Dothraki and Magister Illyrio translated. “Silver for the silver of your hair, the khal says.”
“She’s beautiful,” Dany murmured.
“She is the pride of the khalasar,” Illyrio said. “Custom decrees that the khaleesi must ride a mount worthy of her place by the side of the khal.”
Drogo stepped forward and put his hands on her waist. He lifted her up as easily as if she were a child and set her on the thin Dothraki saddle, so much smaller than the ones she was used to. Dany sat there uncertain for a moment. No one had told her about this part. “What should I do?” she asked Illyrio.
It was Ser Jorah Mormont who answered. “Take the reins and ride. You need not go far.”
Nervously Dany gathered the reins in her hands and slid her feet into the short stirrups. She was only a fair rider; she had spent far more time traveling by ship and wagon and palanquin than by horseback. Praying that she would not fall off and disgrace herself, she gave the filly the lightest and most timid touch with her knees.
And for the first time in hours, she forgot to be afraid. Or perhaps it was for the first time ever.
The silver-grey filly moved with a smooth and silken gait, and the crowd parted for her, every eye upon them. Dany found herself moving faster than she had intended, yet somehow it was exciting rather than terrifying. The horse broke into a trot, and she smiled. Dothraki scrambled to clear a path. The slightest pressure with her legs, the lightest touch on the reins, and the filly responded. She sent it into a gallop, and now the Dothraki were hooting and laughing and shouting at her as they jumped out of her way. As she turned to ride back, a firepit loomed ahead, directly in her path. They were hemmed in on either side, with no room to stop. A daring she had never known filled Daenerys then, and she gave the filly her head.
The silver horse leapt the flames as if she had wings.
When she pulled up before Magister Illyrio, she said, “Tell Khal Drogo that he has given me the wind.” The fat Pentoshi stroked his yellow beard as he repeated her words in Dothraki, and Dany saw her new husband smile for the first time.
The last sliver of sun vanished behind the high walls of Pentos to the west just then. Dany had lost all track of time.
#daenerys targaryen#dany passages#a dance with dragons#a storm of swords#valyrianscrolls#a clash of kings#a game of thrones
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stork and starshine
in which New Kang (her first appearance is in Storm Over Function) asks where babies come from and I once again refuse to fuck with spaces or italics because--say it with me--I’m fucking lazy! I had intended this to be sillier than it is, but as always the muse takes me where it wants me and it wants me to be a fucking hallmark channel tearjerker bullshit screenwriter so here, have some ancient queens being dads (okay Shang Tsung isn’t ancient--this will be like, idk twentyish? years before the... third MK tournament?? I dunno man I’m making this up as I go along. I have no kontrol. Any writer who says they do also likely has a bridge to sell you).
Warring Exes
restored timeline
A light tug on the arm of his luxuriant vermilion robe drew Shang Tsung’s attention up from the swooping strokes of his quill upon parchment. He regarded the room in an almost comically oblivious way, even going so far as to shade his eyes from some bright light, as if it was difficult to see. The tug came again and once more, he scanned the room.
“Baba, here, I’m here,” said a voice which was more like birdsong than speech. Shang Tsung laid his quill aside then and turned to face his daughter, a girl of six with hair as dark as the depths of night before dawn and vivid, hazel eyes. She reached out toward him with small hands and he sat back, a stern look upon his face.
“Liu Kang,” he purred, “we have spoken of this many times; when you desire something, what do you do?”
“I take it!” She was very proud of her answer and he smiled, gesturing that she should go on. Her face screwed up, lips puckering in thought before she continued, finishing strong. “Or find someone who can give it to me!”
“Indeed, and how do you communicate this desire?” The greed sparkling in his obsidian eyes was lost upon her, a child who had just learned self from other, but the pride was not. It sparked a fire in her the likes of which he had never seen and which he appreciated greatly. She would grow to be a wolf, not a snake.
“I say it!” Everything from a child, it seemed, had to be delivered upon the wings of boundless enthusiasm. The girl had adjusted her posture, straightening and standing erect, a pose which showed nicely the fine clothes she wore, perfectly tailored to her tiny body and mimicking that of her opulent “Baba”. Her dark hair was glossy under the lamplight of Shang Tsung’s study and the gold and baubles in it caught and reflected that warmth. She was a stunning child and he could see even now that she would grow into a beautiful woman. He had no intention of allowing her to traverse the realms without knowing who she was. That would be her most powerful weapon of all, to say nothing of the sorcery he fully planned on teaching her.
“So, tell me, what would you like?” He leaned upon one arm of his chair and watched her, luxuriating in parental bliss. He watched her eyes dart about, watched her cheeks go red, watched her little eyebrows pulling together at the center of her sweet, smooth forehead, one he had kissed more times than he could count.
“I um… I want to know how people come into this world.” Liu Kang spoke each syllable with meticulous care, knowing how much was expected of her and wanting only to please. Shang Tsung’s face softened and her posture slackened with it. She was not a child in want, but she was not spoiled—per se. Her lessons were difficult and Shang Tsung would bear nothing less than perfection from his darling girl. But he was a good teacher and surprisingly patient. It pleased her to please him and he was pleased when she strove for this. They were well-matched.
“You desire knowledge, my daughter,” he offered, opening a hand and conjuring a few shapes for her amusement—and his own, if he was being honest—before straightening and standing, pushing his chair away from the grand mahogany desk with the backs of his knees. He offered her one of his gilded hands, rings adorning his fingers, instead of golden claw gauntlets, his bracelets jingling as he moved. She took that hand and held it tightly, and together, they moved toward his library. “I will never deny you knowledge.”
Shang Tsung’s study was a warmly furnished, dark room, lined with books and lit by braziers and enchanted objects wherever he desired them to be. Those books were his favorites—special editions, old manuscripts, things which were unattainable to others… But nothing could escape his grasp once he had set his mind upon it. The tomes he sought, however, would not be in that collection.
They stepped out into the library proper, a stone room cut into the very mountain of his keep and equipped with protective ventilation, enchanted barriers to ward against moisture and rot, and sconces every few feet, illuminating the vastness of it. She had come careening through here—there was no doubt in his mind that careening had been her method of travel—a few minutes before, just to come find him. He wondered if she had known he would be here, or if she had been sent.
“I know you have said I was a gift, but I know the gifts people bring you,” she said, her voice grave with the knowledge of six accumulated years. “Did someone bring me like that?”
Shang Tsung considered a moment, his hand upon the spine of an Earthrealm biology book, bemoaning the absence of an Edenian scroll or volume of the same subject. One finger ran down the title and publisher absently as he considered how he would answer this. He had never hidden anything purposefully from her, and the story of her arrival was a good one, a fascinating one, in fact. Still, he was unsure if the timing was appropriate. After a moment’s thought, he withdrew from the shelf and, still holding her hand in his, dropped to one knee before her, the light catching the gold in his hair as it caught in hers.
“I will tell you the story of your arrival, Starshine, but not yet.” He touched her nose, a sweet little button of a thing. “We must find your father first.”
She brightened at this and reached out to touch Shang Tsung’s nose in the same way. “Follow me,” she bade, tugging on his hand. He stood and she pulled, his heart swelling with pride. She was intelligent, perceptive, beautiful, thoughtful—everything a parent could want in a child. For a brief moment, he considered how little he deserved her. As she pulled him relentlessly through the winding halls of his castle—their home—he considered what, precisely, he had done in his entire life to deserve such an immense gift, something which could sate his greed once and for all. He had not known in his younger days that such a thing could be possible. He had thought the well of his desires endless. The thoughts banished themselves as she, with her tiny hand, and a bit of his sorcery, pushed her way—their way—through the last door to his throne room.
“Father!” Her shrill, bird-like voice called out toward the balcony behind Shang Tsung’s opulent throne. On the balcony, a figure stood, facing the misty sea beyond the island. The fog had cleared this night and one might see for miles, study the stars, see many moons and skies of different realms. “Father!” She called louder this time and the figure turned.
The shoulders were broad, the stature gargantuan, at least seven feet tall, perhaps more, and, though light-colored robes and white hair were tossed about ceaselessly by the wind, a hat, in the simple style of a rice farmer—though far more lavishly adorned than a rice farmer’s had any right to be—stayed perched on top of the tall man’s head. Gentle, dark blue eyes caught the light of some moon or other as he moved forward to receive his daughter’s affection, dropping to one knee and opening his arms to catch her as she leapt into them.
“Liu Kang,” rumbled Raiden, his voice the distant murmur of thunder, “you have found him for me. I am so proud.”
“She is an adept sorceress,” Shang Tsung said, stepping out onto the balcony. “I have taught her well and will teach her more.”
A shadow passed briefly over Raiden’s face as he remained on one knee, the girl in his arms, but it disappeared as suddenly as it had emerged. He was no fool. Liu Kang could not enter the world—any world—without defense. He could teach her no sorcery, could not even gift her with divinity which he no longer possessed. It was a wise path, if a dangerous, serpentine one. His consolation was that Shang Tsung would allow no harm to come to his precious girl—their girl—while under his tutelage. This was his greatest gift, this all-consuming, nearly-obsessive adoration. The way Shang Tsung’s face lit up when he observed their daughter was a balm for Raiden’s scarred, mortal soul.
The sorcerer approached and, joining his family near the fine stone of the balcony railing, bent forth and grasped Raiden’s chin, delighting in the fine bones of his face, the set of his lips, the nobility of his nose. With his free hand, Shang Tsung removed the hat so that the moonlight could lay its silvery elegance over the former god’s features, illuminating them, highlighting each perfect imperfection, each part of him that had likened him to humanity, even when he had been divine. With Liu Kang caught between them, he brought their lips together, long and slow, the child wrapped in Raiden’s arms—he was helpless to resist, but it had been much time and more since he had wanted to do so.
Only her muffled shouts stopped them and they pulled apart to her flailing protests. “Baba promised a story!” Her declaration was loud, almost thunderous. Shang Tsung’s serpentine smile at her demand mirrored Raiden’s soft grunt of incredulity, though this too was followed by a smile.
“A story,” he echoed, “of what, I wonder?”
Their eyes met over Liu Kang’s head and wordless knowledge passed between them. It was time she knew whence she came. Raiden’s nod was minute as he stood, Liu Kang in his arms, Shang Tsung before him, the strangest family in any realm, every realm… but happy, for all that.
#cc#cw#mortal kombat#raiden#shang tsung#warring exes#new kang#didn't tag her in storm over function because I didn't wanna spoil
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Without The Lights~ Billy Hargrove x OC Camille Harper
Chapter 10: Shadows Of The Night
A/N: A secret bleeds and Camille finds comfort with her friend. Billy has dinner at the Harper house and things don’t go as planned. TW: Talk of assault and abortion. Sexual content.
“Let’s see it,” Camille purred.
“Harpy, you’re making me blush.” Billy’s chest heaved softer. “I don’t think you’re ready for it just yet.”
“I’m ready,” she uttered, sultry. “Don’t make me beg.”
“Kind of want you to beg.” Teeth tugged at his bottom lip. They leaned closer in response with wandering eyes.
“Show it to me, Billy.”
“If you insist...”
“Okay. You two need to stop it, I am going to be sick.” A girl muttered from the next lab table to their right. Robin. Her face pinched in genuine disgust and amusement. Heather was laughing next to her, covering her lips. Camille noted they’d gotten closer over the new semester. World’s colliding still at Hawkins High. Chemistry class went on around them. Lab partners working together.
“What…we’re just talking grades? What else could we be-"
"What else indeed, Harper." Robin twitched one brow and Camille broke to chuckle.
"He won't show me his damn test still. I stayed up diligently tutoring him, I deserve to know.” Camille cocked her head. Robin snickered at her finally, doodling in the corners of her paper.
"Hm, that's what she's calling it." Billy mused while he slipped a stick of cinnamon gum into his mouth, earning a light swat at his arm. "Don't damage the goods now, Harpy." She loathed him especially today.
“Get an A plus, Camille?” Heather looked around Robin to see Camille grin with a nod. “No surprise there.” Fingers picked up the exam and Billy huffed at it, angling still so Camille couldn't see his paper.
“What did you get? Tell me or I'll burst.” Camille pressed. Life picked up even still. Quieter than she liked. The Party met frequently outside of school. Watching out for the others as much as they could. Billy shook his head, frowning, and her shoulder’s fell. “Oh. You studied so hard for it. It’ll be fine, we got you to passing so we'll just keep at it.”
“I guess.” Billy flicked the paper around. “Because I got a B fucking minus. No more D letter grades.” He broke to offer a grin that illuminated his entire face and she pushed at him. "Read it and weep for me, babe."
“Billy!” She hushed when he bounced in his seat, too happy that he’d fooled her. “That’s amazing. I’m so proud of you.” He licked his lips, cheeks heating. Those words held tight and didn’t let go. “We have to celebrate. My, uh, mom’s home tonight. We should go out to a movie. I need a night out and I think you earned one.” She was nonchalant about it.
“A movie?” His focus shifted, hands lowering the exam to the table.
“Yes. A movie." Camille's sly eyes flicked to him. "You know, moving pictures. Big screen. Popcorn.”
“On this specific date?” He blinked. “Valentine’s Day.” Camille exhaled out her nose, leaning on her elbows to watch his face.
“Yes, Billy, I want to go to the movies with you on Valentine’s Day. Clear enough?”
“That sounds suspiciously like a date.”
“Maybe it is.” Camille shrugged, going back to her paper as if she hadn’t just rocked his shit apart. “I’ll pick you up this time.”
“Wine and dine me, I might try harder at this whole good grade thing.”
“Seriously, you’re trying hard now and it’s paying off. You're slowly going up full letter grades. Evidence is clear. You're a dummy but, you're not dumb.” She filled in a worksheet, winking. Camille shifted to adjust her shirt sleeves up. Pink with red hearts and cherries. Billy stared at her when she didn’t look at him again. Admiring this person he’d come to value.
“Thank you, Camille,” he’d said it so quietly, she barely heard it. Billy was writing on his own page now when Camille peered at him. She gave a nod.
“Seven o’clock? I’ll come get you.”
“Guess I’ll be waiting.” He flipped through his book. Camille opened her mouth to speak when their school’s intercom picked up. A high pitched sound caused every student to cover their ears. It echoed and adjusted before Camille grew cold.
“Hey. R-” The feedback was static and then even again. “It’s Camille…if you couldn’t remember my voice. You probably don’t want me calling. I waited for two hours. You damn coward.”
“Is that you?” Heather leaned over to whisper and Camille’s eyes went wide. All her classmates had already turned to stare at her.
“No…! No!” Camille jerked herself up like she’d become possessed and raced out. Billy almost fell from his chair in shock, unable to react.
“Ms. Harper!” Their teacher called. The horrid message continued while Camille tore down the hallways.
“I just had some stuff I wanted to say… It was really shitty. What you did. Not just leaving me to go to a clinic myself. Leaving me to abort our baby myself. Getting me pregnant in the first place. You are just…fucking awful. And I ignored it thinking it was love. That’s not love. Learned the hard way, I guess. But, wherever you are. Manipulating another poor girl. Fuck you. Fuck you for all of us!”
Camille passed students who stopped to whisper. Few came out of classrooms with curious teachers. She banged on the front office door. Locked. A tape recorder sat in front of the mic with no one around.
“Fucking eat shit. I was…I am a child. You were the adult! Can’t be an adult? You’re disgusting.” Camille heard her words echo through their entire high school. Shedding that burning spotlight upon her skin. She pressed her head to the window and wept, unable to take it before she covered her ears. “I loved you. I thought I did. Maybe I don’t know love either. But, today, a friend helped me see…just a flicker. What it could feel like. And I’m going to find it one day. I know you won’t. How could you? I don’t regret what I did and I hope one day I don’t always feel guilt and shame when I think of you. You should be ashamed, you fucked a teenager and bragged about it…”
“…I hope you never touch another woman again, shithead. Can’t get college girls so you bat at high schoolers? One day, you’re going to meet a girl who sees you for what you are. I hope it eats you. You won’t touch me ever again. And that, I can be proud of. Just fuck you. Stay away from me. Not like that’ll be hard now. You’re twenty and you got into bed with a fifteen year old. You’re sick. Don’t spread that illness to anymore girls like you almost did with me. I see you again, I’ll destroy you. Fuck you! Just, fuck you!” Camille heard herself cry and lost it, her elbow bashed into the glass while teachers tried to tear her off. She clawed and kicked. Made a scene. Flashed her queen bee stinger. Bared her teeth. “Don’t set foot in Hawkins ever again. Have a great life.” Unable to stop the harrowing tones as it tried to loop, Camille grabbed a glass paper weight then smashed the tape and mic both to bits. When the torture ended, she sunk to the floor as her English teacher came first to hold her.
“I had to do it, I had to!” Camille was sobbing. Body jerking with each heave. Inconsolable. She wondered what it must have been for the gate to the Upside Down to tear open and unleash hell. Something like this.
“Shhh, it’s alright. I’ve got you, honey.” Ms. Strode always had that soft spot for students. “We’ll call your mother.”
“Oh, my god. Margaret, wake up!” Another teacher found the office aid, passed out behind the desk. “Call the police.” Everyone rushed around while Ms. Strode got Camille to her feet. Billy was there after pushing through crowds, eyes huge when Nancy raced to catch up with him from her own classroom. Students looked at their queen fallen from grace.
“Camille, we got you.” Nancy got around Billy and came to her other side. Billy turned to see every judgmental, shocked, and intrigued expression.
“The fuck are you all looking at?! Show’s over, dicks!” Billy Hargrove flipped his switch and they cowered back to keep moving about their day. “Assholes.” He followed after the women when they got Camille into the empty nurse’s office.
“Nancy, can you stay with her?” Ms. Strode got up and Billy charged in.
“Me, too.” He didn’t ask permission. Camille was lying down, covering her face and crying hard still. Nancy held her and Billy came to her other side. Their teacher left to make some calls. They let their friend weep until she was silently gasping. Waiting for flesh to just peel off bone.
“It was her. Edna.” Camille grew numb. “She’s trying to ruin my life all over again. But, she’s been watching me. She’s known the entire time. Bitch. Trying to get me to fucking crack.” Nancy rubbed her back to soothe her cries.
“You can’t stay in that house. Your mother-”
“That’s it, she hasn’t made any move at all. I don’t…get it.” Camille let Billy wipe her tears and shift long hair from her face.
“Camille,” he realized it, “if…if this chick has been spying on you. She could know we saw your mother. In Dayton.” She lifted her eyes, stilling.
“You know Hopper’s been watching out for her too.” Nancy spoke to calm her down.
“She knows that we know everything. It's like she's trying to tear me down so I'm isolated and admitting it. Why didn’t she go to Rosemary or Noah? Lab never came for me.” Camille whispered.
“Maybe she…wants to torment you first.” Nancy frowned. She watched Billy Hargrove comfort her friend and noted how it wasn’t strange anymore. Seeing him around like this. “Camille, you’re bleeding.” Nancy pulled her friend’s sleeve up. “You might need stitches.” A nasty set of cuts swelled just under her elbow. Camille hissed upon seeing it and Billy was already digging for something to stop the blood with their nurse helping in the main office.
“I didn’t even feel that in my state.” Camille whined.
“Hold still.” Billy helped her clean it like many of his own wounds before.
“What am I supposed to tell her? My mother.” Camille ached and her friends paused for a brief moment. “Hawkins is a small place. Come tomorrow, the whole damn town is going to know about me. Edna wants that. She’s trying to break me.”
“Well, as Dustin would say, when one of the Party members needs assistance: it’s our duty to provide it.” Nancy recited and Camille tried to smile. “And we will.” Billy was gentle when he wrapped her arm up.
“Hell of a bruise coming.” He huffed, chest falling.
“Not going to a hospital.” She brought her sleeve down. “Can you guys stay with me awhile?”
“Not like we were planning to leave you.” Nancy pressed her head to Camille’s shoulder and rubbed her arm. Billy sat on the floor and let her hold his hand. Silent, they waited for Rosemary to appear and whisk Camille away. Ms. Strode appeared and gestured that her mother was waiting. Camille stood taller and wiped her eyes, opting to walk alone down the long hallway. Where she was gawked at by passing students. Eyes ahead, she swayed along and didn't give any of them a damn thing. Not one piece of her.
** ** **
“Camille.” Her mother shut the door. The entire car ride was silent. Rosemary was shaken, stuffing nervous pills into her mouth. Camille didn't dare ask what they were for. Steve dropped her car off then left with Jonathan and Nancy when Rosemary wouldn’t let anyone else inside the house. “Camille, baby, talk to me. Just please.” She sat her daughter down, sounding desperate. Hands cupped Camille face, raw and splotched red. “This is because I wasn’t around enough.”
“No, mom, I was stupid.” Camille wheezed. “I couldn’t tell you or dad.”
“I’m so sorry, baby. You needed us. You went through that alone.” Rosemary came to hug her close, too tight. Jarring. “I’ll quit.”
“No, fuck, mom. No. Do not do that. I’m better now. I am.” Camille forced a smile. “I made a bad choice. I learned.”
“You never came to me. We did not teach you to lie.” She stated that with genuine confusion. As if they groomed her incorrectly.
“I just wanted…to be perfect for you both.” Her reply was the most honest she’d been in awhile.
“This is all Noah’s fault. He filled your head with… He couldn’t let you grow naturally. We kept a distance, thinking... I told him, I told him this had gone too far. Become too much. That we lost control in the shuffle.”
“Mom…what are you talking about?” Camille watch her mother’s eyes. Manic. The moment flooded out. Of course, she knew exactly what it meant.
“No, sweetie, I’m sorry. It’s just…daddy and I made mistakes too. But, I’m fixing them. I love you so much. Please…know that you can come to me. You’re my sweet girl. Mine.”
“Mom, that…uh, you’re squeezing me. It’s okay.” Camille drew back when Rosemary let her go, speaking her syllables slower.
“Everything is going to be okay.” She cocked her flawless head like one of the damn Stepford wives.
“I know.”
“I love you. I’ll keep you safe inside here. I promise.” Rosemary kissed her head.
“I…I love you, too.” Camille gripped the couch and her mother came up. There was a moment of unsettling staring before the doorbell rang. She jumped up too quick. “I’ll be fine. I am fine. I’ll get that.”
“Rest today. I’ll make us dinner. One of your favorites.” Her mother floated off down the hall to pour herself some brandy and Camille wiped her face. She hurried to open the front door, surprised at who was there waiting.
“Robin? Hi.”
“Hey, sorry, I…” Robin held out a pink backpack. “You forgot this. I snagged your assignments.”
“Thank you, um, do you want to come in?”
“A chance to see the new Harper house renovations? Sure.” Robin stepped into the doorway. “Changed a lot since your twelfth birthday.”
“Yeah, wow, that was an odd day.”
“The bouncy castle and the dancing clown that terrified all of us.”
“You know, I have nightmares about that voice still. He had the strangest name.” Camille joked and Robin smiled at her. “Guess we didn’t see each other much after that.”
“High school changes people. Start to discover new things about yourself.”
“You’re almost too right about that,” Camille hung her backpack up. “Thanks for this.”
“Yeah, I just…wanted to make sure you were okay. You know? Heather will be glad to hear it too." Robin shrugged, cheeks pink over freckles. "I also wanted to say that…what you said to that asshole was really cool.”
“Ah, thanks. Words just came, I guess.”
“I hope we see more of that Camille.” Robin offered, pointing with her thumb behind her. “Well, I should…”
“Right, um, thank you again for coming, Robin. I appreciate it.” Camille paused. "I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"Ignoring you after my birthday party." She replied. "Glad you and Heather get along. Her parents are...strict. Girl needs more friends in her life." Robin twitched a sort of half smile at that, face softening.
“I’ll see you around school, Cam. Don't make me split you and Hargrove up.”
"We're not even together really."
"You should tell him that." The teen beamed at her and moved to go outside.
“Bye, Robin.” Camille shut the door and Rosemary was there in a flash, glass in hand.
“Are you alright?”
“Better, yes. Um, I had a...a kind of date tonight with Billy.”
“Why not invite him over for dinner instead? I’d like to meet this boy you like. Your friend.”
“Uh, I’m not sure, he-”
“Tell him to be here at seven. I’ll make us all a chocolate cake.” Rosemary definitely hit the pills hard today. Washed them down with sips of expensive brandy. Only drank that when she was upset. Usually stayed with something white or blush otherwise. It was always how Camille could gauge her moods. By what was in her glass.
“…Okay.” Camille waited for her to go after another awkward beat. Her breath left tight lungs so she picked up the phone to dial.
“Hargrove.” Billy surprised her. He was never the one to answer. Neil always lied, telling her Billy was "out" before smacking the receiver down on her.
“Billy, it’s me. My…My mother invited you to dinner. Can you come?” Her voice was shaken. Billy didn’t dare ask why over the phone. “It’s at seven. I’d really like you to be there.”
“I’ll be there.” They both hung up and Camille plastered a smile to go help her mother cook.
“He’s coming.”
“Wonderful.” Rosemary moved items around. “Does he make you happy?”
“Yes, he does. We're friends, we help each other.”
“That’s all I wanted for you, you know.”
“I know. I am happy. I am. You’re an…amazing mother. You know, I see women wearing your clothing and I always smile. You touched all their lives in a small way. Billy’s stepmom gushed about how she wore one of your blouses on a date. I’m proud of what you did. You did your best. Daddy did too. I know that.” Camille found something heartfelt in all this bullshit. All this pain. And I killed daddy, Camille wanted to say. She apologized for it even still. “I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you, I was ashamed.” Rosemary was holding her again, shaking. Unraveling.
“I’m proud of you, Camille. We’re going to be just fine. You became an amazing woman. Never stop. I just wish you'd come to me. Please, know that you can.” She kissed her cheeks and Camille relaxed. “Come on, let’s make something to impress this boy of yours.” Her daughter could only nod. The twinge of fear didn’t quite melt away. But, she was up for ignoring it. Camille Harper lived her entire life in a den of wolves. You don't just slink out of it when they begin to starve.
** ** **
“You’re early,” Camille was relieved when she opened the door in a short, pink sweater dress with black tights. Billy had his shirt buttoned up higher than usual. Only one open. Frankly, that was more surprising than the flowers in hand.
“For your mother. Moms love me.” He cocked his head so she allowed him inside. Camille kissed his cheek so she could whisper.
“Something’s off.” She warned. “She’s…” Camille came out to listen as her mother hummed in the kitchen to music playing on their stereo. “She’s like…clingy and weird. Doped up.” Rosemary opened the door to interrupt them, removing an apron. She reminded Billy of twenty Karen Wheelers. All dolled up to the max. With Karen, you still got something genuine there. Rosemary lived her life in the artificial. Her current mental state amounted to shiny sequins popping off a campy prom dress.
“Camille, darling, introduce me.”
“Billy Hargrove, this is my mother, Rosemary Harper.” Camille stepped out of the way with the flowers. “Billy is my friend from class. He transferred into Hawkins last fall. Brought us these flowers.” The teen realized Billy was making a jab with them.
“Sunflowers. How sweet? How’d you know?” She outstretched a hand and Billy took it in both of his
“Mrs. Harper? For a moment, I thought Camille had a sister." He turned up the usual appeal. "Nice to finally meet you. My stepmom talks about your clothes all the time.”
“A charmer. Flattery will get you everywhere in this house.” She grinned. More sparkly sequins threatened to burst. Billy remembered a red, sequined scarf his mother owned. Part of an old Halloween costume. Shiny and wild to the eye. As a kid, he'd playfully run about the house with it wrapped around his shoulders to music. Made him feel like a star. Until Neil came home to catch him one Tuesday afternoon. Knocked three baby teeth out. His mother threw the scarf away after that. Probably for the best. “Come into the dining room. Camille, go set the table for me.” Billy met Camille’s eyes, brow lifting subtly. They went in after her. “How do you like Hawkins, William?”
“Oh, Billy is fine,” he swallowed. “Hawkins is…different.”
“Used to be a much quieter place. Such a pity.” Rosemary sighed, bringing a dish to the table. “Chicken pot pie.”
“It smells amazing, mom,” Camille let Billy pull out her chair before he held out one for her mother next.
“He’s just a doll, isn’t he?” Rosemary served pieces up when Billy slipped into a seat across from Camille. Music still played and candles lit the table.
“Thank you, Mrs. Harper.”
“Rosemary, please.” She’d insisted, eating from her plate. Both teens waited until she swallowed to pick at their food. “Camille tells me you’re from California. You know, I dressed so many celebrities in LA. Award season was my favorite time. Sometimes I miss that. Hawkins must absolutely bore you, poor thing.”
“Delicious,” Billy remarked, nodding. “And I thought that as well until I moved here. Met some…interesting people.”
“Well, that’s good then. With the right people, you can make any place a home.” She sounded like fucking Glinda the Good Witch. If she snorted a great deal of coke. Billy watched her smile and paused to swallow. His lips lifted with some force. Camille nudged his foot under the table. “That’s what my Noah used to say.” Her mother was noticeably dazed.
“I’m sorry for your loss.” Billy offered.
“That’s appreciated, young man. I can see that you’re very important to my daughter, Billy. Glad to see her in the company of good friends who care about her.” Rosemary was still smiling. “Because if anyone dared to hurt her, oh, I do pity the next boy who crosses my baby.”
“Mom.” Camille set her water down, eyes widening and Rosemary sat back. Collected.
“Camille, you are beautiful and you are still so stupid. I really thought we taught you better. I can see now, we didn’t. Pity. You just never could grasp people. You never could trust your instincts.” She poured blame into Camille’s soul like gasoline. All they needed was a match.
“Whoa…” Billy sat straighter when Rosemary’s knife tapped her plate. Camille’s jaw dropped.
"Mom, stop."
“If you don’t think for a second that this boy only wants what they all do… What have I taught you? Are you going to sleep with my daughter? Leave her shattered like the other did? Are you going to try to take her from me? When I finally have her all my own. Oh, no. I will not have it!” Rosemary smacked the table and stood. Camille jumped to her feet.
“Billy, I think you should go now.” She came around the table to push at him. “Mom, what the hell is wrong with you?”
“No, I’m not going anywhere.” Billy was tense, fists clenching. The words blurted out. “Look, I care about your daughter-”
“Words.” Rosemary was a rubber band snapping. “Men, you’re all the same, you make messes and we clean them up. You hurt us and we lick our own wounds. You use and use and we come to our knees after. Where is my credit?! Huh, I took good care of you, I did. And you want to throw it all away by growing up. Without your mother, Camille!” Her daughter stopped and almost burst herself, remembering Judith King alone in that hospital. Rocking.
“Mom…calm down,” Camille realized the magnitude of the grave danger she was in all at once. The boiling pot she couldn't leap out of. She had to stay in control. Told herself she was. Didn't trust her fucking instincts. Her fatal flaw with people. Camille's hand lifted to slip the knife from her mother’s fingers. “I think you need to go lie down.”
“Oh…oh, yes. I am not myself. I think I,” Rosemary clenched with tears. “I think I drank a little too much brandy. Too many pills to relax me. I’m so sorry, I’m sorry. I wanted one good night for you. For us.”
“I know…let’s get you in bed.” Camille looked at Billy and helped the manic woman off to her room.
“I didn’t mean that, I’m just so scared.” She crumbled.
“Go to sleep. We’ll be fine.” Camille tucked her into bed and hurried out, shutting the door. Billy’s hands were on her shoulders, dragging her back to the stairs.
“You are not staying here tonight.” He was heated, voice low. “You don’t even have to come stay with me if you don’t want to. I’ll take you anywhere. I’ll take you to Harrington or the Wheeler’s or to the damn Chief, I don’t care. But, you are not staying in this house tonight. I mean it.” Camille wrapped her arms around him. Words. “Pack a bag, we’re going right now.”
“She wasn’t always like that, since my father…something’s coming undone inside her as well.” Camille sniffled and Billy held her back this time, firm as if to reassure her. She packed a bag and wrote a quick note to let her mother know that she was safe with a friend.
“Come on,” Billy reached for her hand without thinking to get her out of there. “Where am I taking you?” They got into his car so he pulled out of the driveway. She fazed out of existence. Her elbow burned still. That pain was the only thing keeping her attached to this world. “Camille, talk to me. You need to stay right here now. Okay?”
“I…” She shook her head. Tried to flood back in. For him. “I don’t know. You pick.”
“My house it is,” he inhaled. “Dad leaves before us for work tomorrow. I’ll sneak you into the window again. Can get ready at my place and I’ll take you to school... Camille. Focus here. You're fading on me.”
“Okay...yes, okay.” Her body mellowed out. Numb even when he beckoned to snap her back. “I don’t want to cause more trouble for you at home.”
“You couldn’t possibly.” He hitched with amusement then. Camille looked outside at the trees, lips opening when she found words to grasp.
“You meant it, I could tell.”
“Meant, what?”
“You cared about me.” She turned her head and his eyes stayed on the road. Billy didn’t speak so she went for his hand, clasping it between both of hers. “Everything that happened. I want you to know that you’re making it. Doing better. You’re my friend and I care about you too. And I forgive you. I wouldn’t have made it this far without you touching my life. And just, thank you, Billy.” His chest sunk and he squeezed her hand tight. “Just needed you to know that.”
** ** **
“Shhh, they’re sleeping,” Billy eased Camille into his bedroom window. She had one leg over when the door opened a crack and Max poked her head in without knocking.
“You’re not as sneaky as you think,” she whispered, amused. “Saw her pass my window.” The younger girl came forward to take Camille’s other hand.
“Keep it down,” Billy hissed, hands under Camille's arms to heave her inside. She felt his muscles flex and let her face heat. “Go shut my door.”
“I heard about… Well, we all…” Max shuffled her feet. Camille dropped her bag and sat on Billy’s bed. “I’m sorry.” She came and wrapped her arms around Camille’s neck when she got emotional. Billy shut his window and sighed, sneaking out to grab a glass of water. His sister was kneeling on his bed, holding his friend close and petting her hair. “It’s okay.” Billy offered her the cool glass quietly so she came out from Max to drink, eyes red and tired.
“Come on, go change.” Billy was ushering her into his little closet with her bag. Flicking the swinging light in there on. Max stood, gaze sliding from him to the floor. He didn’t try to kick her out.
“What happened after?” She hesitated when his eyes landed on her face. “Thought her mom invited you over.”
“I don’t know, she just…freaked out on us.” Billy shook his head. His sister looked encouraged.
“So, you helped her leave.”
“For tonight,” Billy ran a hand into his hair and plopped down on his bed. Max pressed her lips. “Don’t give me that look, not like I’m in your nerd party.”
“Maybe we can start our own side party? I don’t know all the rules but I think I’ll make some of my own up.” Max shrugged. “It can be a secret too, no one will see us coming. Just think about it, maybe come up with a cool name.” Billy lifted one brow at her, lips pressing when she stood.
“Max.” He mustered the courage. Let it flood out. “I’m sorry.” Hands clenched in his lap when she came forward, touching his face so he’d look at her expression.
“I always wanted a big brother,” she admitted. “Nice to meet you, Billy.”
“You too, Mad Max.” Billy let her hug him. A quick, tight squeeze he needed. One arm returned it because she needed it too.
“Name the secret side party.” Max moved to the closet door. “Camille, I hope you feel better.” There was some quiet shuffling.
“Thank you,” came the muffled reply. Max crept out to get back to her room and Camille appeared, drained. Billy looked up and there was a beat.
“Hey.”
“Hi.” She crawled behind him atop the covers. “School’s going to be a nightmare tomorrow.”
“Figured you’d want to skip.” Billy pulled his pants and shirt off, not bothering with much else before he reclined next to her. Camille shifted in a baggy tee, curling her bare legs up. He took note of them briefly.
“No. Queen Bee can’t back down. Right?” Camille closed her eyes and opened them. “I don’t regret anything about the choice I made. I won’t let those people scare me into thinking that I should.” He didn’t argue with that. “Sorry, we can’t go on a normal date.”
“We’ll get there. Eventually.” Billy turned his head to see her, idly hitting the last lamp to shut off.
“Happy Valentine’s Day.” Camille sighed, burying her face into pillows that smelled like him. Billy came up to shift so he could slip covers over them both. She scooted into him, allowed his hands to smooth up and down her back. Billy was careful of the wound on her arm, relaxing while they warmed up. Dim moonlight sunk between the curtains. Camille watched the shine of his eyes in the dark. Her arms curled between them, fingers shifting out to touch his chest.
“Let me guess,” he purred. Hands smoothed over his skin. “You want to try something?”
“Hm, what gives you that idea?” Camille drew closer, lips just barely brushing his.
“We have to keep it down,” he warned, breathless before they kissed. Heated flesh pressed together. They held each other for a while there in the dark. Billy was more still as she explored him. Tracing over contours and scars. She cupped his face, thumbs smoothing along cheekbones. Following the swell of his full bottom lip before her mouth opened against his. Camille felt him get aroused against her thigh.
“I want to touch you,” she uttered, fingers in his hair until he adjusted and reclined more on his back. One arm pulled her into him so she draped her body along his. Lips peppered over his collar and neck. Billy suppressed a moan and tilted his head back, hand finding hers. Camille traced his hip and guided him until she cupped his shaft through thin briefs. Fingers edged up and down the feel of him. "Oh." The softest little sound sent pride shooting up his body. He was well aware of what he was packing. Billy’s lips parted to sigh and he shifted her hand under the fabric. Longed so to be touched. Fingers wrapped around the shaft. They found a pace together. Pumping slow and rhythmic while her mouth was on warm skin.
“Camille.” Billy came undone, hand sliding away so she could work him until he was hard and slick. Her thumb rubbed circles into the tip. Torturing him. Unraveling him utterly. His arm squeezed her closer when it became too much. “Fuck,” he craned his neck to bury his face into her hair, muffling his sighs into the pillows. “More.” She slowed to longer strokes, coming out to slip her tongue into his mouth. Drawing it out. Billy held himself together. Just barely.
“Do you think about me when you’re alone?” Camille was going painfully slow, lips lingering down his chest. Turning the tables. "Doing this to yourself and thinking about fantasy queen Camille. Hm?" Billy tried not to scoff. No comment. “Have to give to get.” She recalled his own words. Tormented him with them. Fingernails scratched down his chest. Her mouth left little pink marks he’d remember tomorrow.
“Yes, god, Camille.” His hips tried to rut in tune with her hand. “Few minutes after I met you just so we’re clear.”
“Crystal.” She teased, slipping to run her tongue down his happy trail and all the way up to his tip. Billy gave a wanting little arch to be inside her. Fingers shifted into her hair. “This is more like it, yeah?”
“Close,” he reached to stoke himself, eyes intent on her own until she opened her mouth when he offered his tip. She just felt too good. Swallowing him down all the way. “Better.” Camille gave a hum that vibrated his dick, plunging it further into her throat. She came up to find her pace again. Kisses and licks smeared arousal down his skin. Camille brought her bottom into the air and focused on the pace. Mouth slipping over him with ease. Fingers guided her by the hair, twisting locks from her face. Billy watched her suckle and pressed his head back. She'd ruin him for other flings too. They played together, heated, and as quiet as they could be. He felt his stomach flutter, body growing taut. Camille worked him, swirling her tongue as hands ran along his hips.
“I’m right there,” he confessed, tapping her shoulder before fingers latched around her wrist. Billy tried to warn her again when her eyes lifted to his. She gave a sort of nod, massaging his skin to let him know it was alright. Lips opened when he let go, climax pumped in spurts along her tongue. Camille slowed to swallow in time before she could choke, lapping to finish him off. His muscles clenched and released rhythmically so she drew it out. Exquisitely. Billy gave a soft moan like honey. Camille came up on her knees, wiping her swelled lips on her hand. Splayed, he watched her tuck him back into his briefs before plopping next to him.
“Been waiting to return the favor,” she mused, chest steady with deep breaths while he came down from the high. While he came down from her. Blue eyes darkened with clouds. “Taste you, I mean.” Billy, unable to stand it, came up to hover and took her face in one hand. Gazes flickered intently. “You don’t have to kiss me after, I get it.” As if it was a challenge, he pressed her into the bed to kiss her as obscenely as he could. Tongue slipping along lips and between teeth. Spit trailed when they parted.
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
“I think you like it,” Camille hushed, “just a little.”
“What happened to not dating boys you go to school with?” Billy came up so she followed, braced on her hands. Legs opened while he sat between them.
“Technically haven’t been able to date yet.”
“You know what I mean. Flings were banned too.” He countered. "Friends who go down on each other is great and all, but...you want more and so do I. So, I'll ask you again. What happened to no flings for queenie?"
“Guess the same thing happened with you moving on from one skirt to another,” she replied. “Haven’t even tried to continue the rounds. I wouldn’t blame you.”
“Harpy is dodging the question,” he touch his ear, tilting toward her so she caved.
“I can make exceptions.” She shifted to prop herself up on pillows. They observed each other.
“Just admit that I make you hot already, Camille.” Billy lingered, easing forward. “We played this shit for months. Just let go. Can’t stand it anymore. Admit you got off to me. More than once. Lift up your shirt.” The command surprised her. Slowly, she shifted fabric up, baring herself to his eyes. Billy bit his lip at the sight of her, pleased. Nipples pebbled against cooler air. “Take it off.”
“You take it off.” Camille hitched a gasp when hands eased up her sides. Cupped her breasts for good measure before the shirt slipped over her head. Fabric bunched around her shoulders.
“You thought about it, what type of fuck I’d be.” He hummed, fingertips edging down the soft skin of her inner thighs.
“Had a vague idea, you flaunt it well.” Camille licked her lips, teeth nipped at her bottom one so he came forward for a slow kiss. “Didn’t try hard to do it. Just happens when you’re…heated.” She gasped as he cupped her, offering a slow rub. Felt like he was out to claim something.
“Heated like this? Admit it, Camille,” he ghosted his mouth over hers, eyes direct to hold her attention. Palm on her still in a way that was possessive. “You sat next to me in class squirming because you knew…I’d make you quake. Yes or no?”
“Ye…s…” She grew timid so he advanced, lips closing around a nipple. Teeth tugged. Steady, he tormented the other bud. Tongue flicking up toward her neck.
“What was that?” His thumb circled her clit through fabric, slicking it in her arousal.
“Yes.” Camille tried not to melt but he was the sun and she’d flown far too close.
“Thought about how I’d push a dress up over your shoulders and make you moan. Don’t have to say anything,” Billy’s fingers slipped under fabric, “it’s already written all over you. You got wet with my cock in your mouth.” Camille was rocking to meet his hand, jaw clenched before she stole a kiss. His forehead touched hers when two digits slipped into her with ease. Billy hushed her when she whined, body clenching him. “You wondered what it would feel like buried here.”
“Billy,” came another plea. Her expression faltered, lost in euphoria. Lost in him. Drowning again in fire. He didn’t let up.
“Camille…” He drawled in a quiet, sing-song tone that always ruined her. His free hand came to rest by her hip when he slid closer. “Just say the words.” Billy pumped slowly, thumb teasing that stiff bundle of nerves. Heat swelled. Her flesh cried out for more. She caved.
“Yes…I…” Eyes closed and opened, lips parting to sigh. Billy had her. “Fuck it, I thought about you.”
“So, process of elimination,” he was rubbing her more intently now, “I make you…?”
“Hot.” Camille bit back a moan. “You make me hot. Okay…Ha…Happy? Fuck.” Her hips shifted back so he came with, thighs forcing hers apart when her back hit the wall.
“Camille,” he chided, lips along her jaw. “I can’t make you come if you squirm like that.” Her hands found his shoulders to cling. “You want to, don’t you?” Billy was savoring every bit of this.
“Yes,” she watched him slow and gave in, “I want to come.”
“All you gotta do is ask me,” he smiled against her mouth, "just ask and I'll give you what you want."
“Billy, fuck, make me come. I want it.” She recalibrated. “I want you. Let me, please.”
“Since you asked me so sweetly.” He bent to leave a mark on her neck that she’d have to see in the morning. Fingers pumped and curved inside her, knuckle deep. Camille shuddered against him, moving to fuck herself in turn. He felt her clit twitch, muscles clamping down against him. “Come.” He coaxed. “You’re right there, just let go. Let go, Camille.” He made her feel so good. Hazel eyes closed so he took her jaw again with one free hand. “No, you stay right here. Look at me.” Billy wanted to watch her come undone. She could only mouth the words, eyes widening when orgasm raced within her veins. She rocked unsteadily into him. Thighs quivering. “There you are.” He eased, keeping her in a state for as long as he could. Lips offering only encouragement. Pride. Fingers slipped out of her, holding fabric aside to see her soaked and twitching. “Fuck, Camille.” Beautiful. She slipped down so he eased her against the mattress to nestle into his chest. Fingers danced all along her back. “Happy Valentine’s Day.” He felt her hitch to muffle a laugh into his chest.
“It is, isn’t it?” She tucked herself into him, contented. Billy craved a cigarette but couldn’t stand to slip from her to grab one. Instead, they breathed and traced shapes into skin. “Made the exception because I like you…dummy.” Billy shook his head, thoroughly entertained. “It’s different between us, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, think so.”
“Feels like we’re on the same edge, terrifying as it might be.” Camille sighed, relaxing further into him. “But…it’s not lonely. Not anymore.” He could only nod, arm looped around her back. Her body breathed in tune with his. Lulling to the heartbeat pulsing under her ear.
“Go to sleep.” He murmured into dark hair at last. Camille didn’t feel she had a choice at this point. It tugged her away. Billy held her and soothed every little twitch that dared to disturb her mind. Up until it came for him next.
#LMAO the opening of this chp is my fav#billy hargrove#Billy hargrove x oc#billy hargrove smut#billy hargrove fanfiction#mine#writing#without the lights#Camille Harper
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