#*clenching fists* I need… oc content….

[emotionalhottiee]

You’re my little secret 💋.

Part 1

(inspired by “My little Secret” by Xscape (kind of).

Warning: 18+ (This content may include explicit material).

DISCLAIMER: This oneshot is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise stated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events in this fanfic are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner.

Jey Uso x Ashleigh (OC)

It’s not really a secret, it’s just nobody’s business.

Being a woman, working in the nightclub scene isn’t for the weak. Yes of course the tips are amazing, but the men you have to deal with on a daily basis will make you homicidal. From the stingy motherfuckas that order one bottle for 20 plus people. To the ones who don’t tip (honestly they’re the worst).To the creepy ass men who think that just because you work in a strip club that you are dying for any type of attention from them. To the ones that think you’re supposed to want to sleep with them, because they have “money”. Those are the type of men i wish i never had to interact with, but this is the job I choose so it comes with the territory. Now I don’t know how most clubs work, but here at Queen of Diamonds in Atlanta I don’t have to worry about any of that because I have my uces. My incredibly buff Samoan bouncers/ Top flight security of the world aka my personal body guards; Joshua & Jon, my twinsies. They were here long before I started bartending here. But ever since I’ve been working here, they have been my lifesavers on more than one occasion. I love those boys…one maybe a little more than the other ;).

“What’s up Sis” I heard from the other side of the empty club. Recognizing that damn voice from anywhere, “wazzup JonJon” i hollered back. Followed by laughter seeing Jon’s face scrunched up at the nickname. He acts like he’s hates it but deep down inside he loves it. Once my laughter settled my eyes made their way over to Joshua, Jon’s twin brother. An instant smile was plastered all over my face. Josh made his way over to my bar where i was setting up, getting ready for the night. “Wass good babygirl” he said. Pulling me into a big bear hug. “Hey Joshy pooh” i said gleefully wrapping my arms around his neck. We stood embracing each other for what felt like an eternity, but it was only for a few seconds. He smacked his lips at the sound of the nickname i gave him. They know they love my nicknames.

It is a quarter to ten and the club is officially about to open for the night. As i was finishing up washing the rest of my shot glasses out. I felt some rough ass skinny arms wrap around me. My skin was crawling with disgust because i literally knew who it was. “Wassup girl” Que the Club Dj tried to whisper in my ear, as i struggled to push him off of me. I need to start lifting. I thought to myself because i could not get this man off of me. “I thought i told yo ass, DO NOT TOUCH ME!” I said very loudly.

I don’t understand why this man cant get a fucking clue. Don’t get me wrong he’s not a bad looking guy… It’s just his horrible personality that ruins it completely. He puts his hands up in defeat, as if he didn’t want any issues. I was wondering what caused him to switch up so quickly. But I didn’t have to look very far. Just as he started to walk away. I looked up at the club entrance to see Josh standing up jaw and fist clenched tighter than i have ever seen. But I’m not complaining, I love seeing my “man” get all worked up about me! My pussy started throbbing, just thinking about him. But i can’t have him right now, the club is about to start and people will surely notice us missing. I looked back up at Josh, letting him know with my eyes that i was fine. He slowly started to relax, unclenching his hands and jaw. He was silently telling me okay, but i knew he wasn’t over it. He couldn’t stand Que!

Part 2

[sunnibits]

god… the urge to make Dimitri AMVs even though I’ve never made one before, have a horrible motivation track record, am currently experiencing one of my worst art blocks ever, etc….. the oc brainrot is simply so powerful….

[yueebby]

all mine — gojo satoru

synopsis. It’s the exchange event and gojo doesn’t like how that kyoto boy is looking at you. 

contents.  fluff, jealous!gojo, minor male oc, loosely based on that one jujutsu scroll, satoru is really insufferable and problematic but in his defense he is lovesick

gojo satoru is seething. he knows that you’re good looking, but he doesn’t need the entire world to know that either. if it were up to him, your beauty would be for his eyes only. 

especially not that kyoto third year who has been eyeing you since your arrival.

it was sickening, really. and to add salt to the wound, you have been oblivious to it all. one moment, gojo has his arms draped around your shoulders, and in the blink of an eye, you were being whisked away by that third year.

“please don’t do what i think you're trying to do,” shoko’s unamused voice breaks his train of thought. her knowing gaze made gojo chuckle.

“who, me? why do you assume i’m plotting something?” gojo feigns innocence, hoping his friend couldn’t sense the vicious wave of cursed energy that was leaking out of him. 

shoko doesn’t bother telling him that his usual sky blue eyes were darker, clouded with annoyance or whatever angsty emotion he was dealing with. suguru snorts at his best friend’s silent torment.

“he’s kinda cute,” shoko places a hand on her hip while she observes you conversing with the brown haired third year from kyoto. he was probably a clan kid, judging by his traditional kimono design for a uniform. “you think [name]’s into him?” she eggs gojo on with a smirk on her lips. 

suguru bumps his shoulder against hers as a silent warning.

it takes a moment for satoru to process shoko’s conclusion, the realization evident on his face as his eyes slowly widened. 

“like hell she is.” satoru’s fist clench and he thinks that he will explode if you keep entertaining that stupid kyoto boy. why waste your time with a weakling, when satoru, who was much worthier of your attention was standing just a couple of meters away in the same courtyard? satoru glares at you from above his glasses, hoping you can feel just an ounce of the anger he feels. 

you don’t. 

he thinks he dies a little bit on the inside. in fact, he thinks you’re purposefully messing with his mind with the way you playfully smack the kyoto boy’s shoulder with the same soft hand that gojo has dreamed of holding since his first year. 

“stop being dramatic and let's warm up. we have team battles today.” annoyance is evident in suguru’s voice. yaga had warned the duo that if either of them acted up during the exchange event, the consequences would be dire.

“dramatic?” he scoffs, his glare not wavering. “she has the audacity to look beautiful in the presence of other men. she’s doing this on purpose.” his arms are crossed now.

exasperated looks are exchanged by his two friends.

screw whatever yaga said. without wasting another moment, satoru forced his way in your direction, ignoring suguru's attempt to stop him. shoko, however, held suguru back. "don't," she said, her eyes fixed on gojo. "i want to see what this idiot will do."

suguru sighed, acknowledging that gojo deserved whatever was coming his way.

you realize that perhaps you are too lenient with gojo satoru. you have forgiven every stunt he has pulled, but the look on his face right now as he approaches you with a wide grin makes you sense that might end now.

“wifey!” he closes the space between you. you furrow your eyebrows at the unfamiliar pet name. “how could you leave me for some kyoto scum?” 

you choke on air at his blatant insult to the boy in front of you. 

“ah, i apologize, i couldn’t help myself but steal her when i saw her. i’m ishikawa daisuke–”

“what a bold statement to say to her husband!” gojo doesn’t spare ishikawa a second glance, choosing to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. too shocked to move, you let gojo relish in the intimate action. 

you’re equally as surprised as ishikawa at satoru’s declaration, a strangled noise escaping from your mouth. the idea of gojo as your husband… it was enough to make your brain short circuit. where did he even get the idea from?

ishikawa’s eyes are blown wide, any semblance of self confidence thrown out of the window,  “i-i apologize for the misunderstanding. i wasn’t aware you were already married so young.” he stutters, bowing deeply to gojo who is smirking with a hand on his hip. 

“damn right we are. i knew i had to tie the knot with this beauty the moment i met her.” satoru proudly exclaims, his gaze softening when it returns on you. the initial shock is starting to wear off and you are shooting gojo your harshest glare. satoru’s antics seem to never end.

“isn’t my wifey the cutest?” he coos down at you, tapping your nose with a single finger. you are tempted to bite it off. 

“gojo satoru, you are the most insufferable man that i know,” you point at his chest angrily. “the most delusional too.” you mutter.

 he places a pained hand to his chest,  “you know other men? you’re killing me sweetheart.”

ishikawa coughs awkwardly, reminding you of his presence. you give him your best sympathetic look.

satoru, annoyed that your attention is off of him once again narrowed his eyes at the brown haired boy, “shouldn’t you be practicing with the rest of the kyoto weaklings? i recommend you to do so if you don’t want to be killed on the battlefield today.” satoru’s voice is an octave lower. 

“satoru!” you’re startled by his indirect threat, quick to defend your senior who looked like he was moments away from pissing his pants. 

“i-if you will excuse me.” ishikawa bows deeply once again before scurrying away without another word. you watch him hopelessly. the moment ishikawa is gone, satoru’s intimidating aura is replaced with a pout as he crosses his arms bitterly. 

“if you wanted my attention you could’ve just asked.” satoru exhales forcefully with a hmph. his arms are still crossed and if it weren’t for the fact that he had acted utterly out of line, you would almost go as far as calling him cute. 

“excuse me?”

“you were trying to get my attention,” he points out. “you don’t have to y’know.” my eyes are always on you. the words die on his lips.

a scoff leaves your mouth, disbelief is evident on your face, “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“you do!”

“are you jealous or something?” the idea that the great gojo satoru was sick with envy amused a cruel part inside of you.

“who? me? what could that country bumpkin have that i don’t?” he sounds almost offended at your accusation. 

“he’s nice.”

“i can be nice!" satoru whines. there is desperation in his eyes. "i bought a can of tuna for that stray cat the other week, remember?”

“yeah, but he’s nice to people. he’s also polite and-”

“alright i get it! you don’t have to keep talking about him.” satoru's eyebrows furrow in sync with the way his bottom lip slightly juts out. “i just didn’t like how he looked at you.”

“and how did he look at me?” 

satoru grumbles. was it not obvious enough? “his gaze was devouring you like you were his or something. honestly, what a loser. he’ll have to get in line.”

frustration laces your words as you challenge him, “you can’t just march around scaring off all of the guys that i talk to. i want you to admit that you were jealous."

satoru's jaw drops.

"you can't be serious." he protests, cerulean eyes widening. "i'm starting to think you like torturing me." you smile at his comment. you were indeed doing this on purpose.

"oh but i am completely serious," you reply with faux innocence, eyes blinking at him. “satoru.” you enunciate each syllable of his name, dealing the finishing blow.

he folds. you were being so unfair.

"i was jealous." he confesses petulantly. your grin widens as he admits his jealousy. the victory, however, is short-lived as satoru seizes the opportunity to sneak in another flirty comment. “it’s not my fault my dream girl happens to be everyone else’s.”

a groan escapes your lips, and you take your hand, lightly flicking his forehead. satoru accepts the physical contact happily.

"when will you give this bit up?" you retort, raising an eyebrow. 

“when i finally put a ring on that finger,” satoru winks. you regard his words with skepticism, oblivious to the fact that he was dead set on it.  gojo satoru was going to make you his, or at least die trying.

remember spring days masterlist

extra notes:

prior to the exchange event, utahime actually warned ishikawa that you were off limits. she didn’t elaborate why.

poor ishikawa seemed to be the target of most of satoru’s attacks during the team battle.

tokyo won the event by an overwhelming amount.

“i deserve victory kisses for carrying tokyo to victory, right [name]?” satoru had teased you on the way home.

you pretend to think about it, “hmm i think suguru’s curses were quite helpful. he’s the one that deserves the kisses.”

satoru had never moved faster in his entire life to cover your mouth with the palm of his hand and whisk you away from his best friend who had joined in your joke.

[jeankluv]

Birdie - Satoru Gojo | Chapter 18

summary: While everyone adored him, you stood apart in your feelings. It wouldn't be accurate to say you hated him, as " hate " was a strong word, rather, you harbored a profound dislike towards him. The problem was he knew that and his irritating presence seemed to persistently cling to you whenever he crossed your paths. Now, you found yourself paired with him for your semester project, and the thought made you wish to hurl yourself out of the third-floor window. Three months of working alongside him loomed ahead. Adding to the discomfort, you were currently under the scrutiny of hundreds of eyes, each gaze feeling like a murder attempt. It seemed everyone coveted the opportunity to collaborate with Gojo Satoru, except for you.

tags: modern au, college au, fem!reader, academic rivals, he fell first, fluff, old money Gojo Satoru, abusive parents, slight slow burn, Satoru is a softy, secondary couple (Geto Suguru x oc), a bit of angst, no use of y/n, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, Gojo plays basketball, Gojo needs a hug

warning for this chapter: +18 nsfw content, p in v, ridding

notes: it’s been a while since I posted this fic, but I was on vacation and right now, I’m stuck writing chapter 19, like I already have Birdie planned out but chapter 19 is like stuck there and I don’t know when I will be posting the next chapter, I hope that in two weeks time. So let’s pray

Sorry if there are any mistakes or typos, this was published unedited

materialist | previous chapter | next chapter

Jujutsu Kaisen materialist | ao3

You clung to the blanket that Satoru had given you after changing into one of his shirts, no matter how hard you tried you were unable to stop shivering.

But your pulse and breathing were agitated after the encounter with Naoya. You clenched your fists and cursed yourself for letting it get to you so much.

“Here you have.” Satoru entered the room with a cup of chocolate in his hands. 

You smiled and grabbed it, feeling the smell of chocolate and the warmth of the cup. “Thank you ‘Toru.”

He sat down next to you on the bed and put an arm around your shoulder, while gently caressing your arm. “Do you want to talk now about what happened?”

You took a deep breath, feeling Satoru's presence and comfort with you, and you began to tell the story of what happened.

2 hours earlier 

You took the wine Utahime gave you and drank it. The taste of the wine went down your throat and you felt a sweet taste run through your mouth. Your lips became slightly sticky and you ran your tongue over them. Utahime was drinking her wine and your eyes drifted to search for Satoru’s figure, hoping he would come soon.

You didn’t mind spending time with Utahime, but your heart ached thinking Satoru needed to face his parents on his own once again. You wanted to stand beside him.

“He will be here soon.” Utahime smiled. 

“Yeah… I just.” You sighed. “I wanted to be with him.” 

“I get it.” She nodded. “But now, relax and try this one.” She gave you another glass.

“Utahime.” You cried. “I think it is too much.” 

“It is not.” She smiled. “Take a sip, it’s really good.” She said drinking it. 

You did as she told and in fact it was good, it tasted really expensive. “It’s really good.” 

“Yeah right?” She grinned.

“Oh, there is no way.” A voice spoke and your eyes slowly opened.

Your hands started to sweat and your breathing started to be irregular.

“Ugh Naoya.” Utahime spoke. “What do you want? Go to another place and bother someone else.” 

Naoya laughed and the laughter, which was familiar to your discomfort, stabbed you like knives. “I’m here to say hi to my old worker.” You saw how a smiled crossed his face.

Utahime turned to look at you. “You know him?” 

“Yes…”

“Doll…” He walked towards you. “Last time we met your friends were pretty rude, but I know Utahime won’t do shit, so why don’t we speak?” 

Utahime ground her teeth and positioned herself next to you. “I don't know what the fuck you want, Naoya. But get out of here.”

“I just want to talk.” He said smirking. “Did you come as Utahime’s plus one?” He questioned. “That seems unlikely… oh.” He gasped. “Don’t tell me you came with the Gojo kid?” 

You frowned. “That doesn't matter to you.”

He laughed. “So yeah…” He scratched his chin. “Did you just jump on him like the bitch you are?”

You could feel the gazes of those present rest on you. Your breathing began to accelerate and unlike in class, where you had behaved calmly and had ignored what they said about you, you couldn't there. You felt enormous helplessness.

“Gojo probably needed somewhere warm to stick his…”

“Naoya! Shut up!” Utahime shouted out. 

Utahime's voice only caused the stares to grow and your nervousness to increase. You had wanted to go unnoticed, to go there to support Satoru, but now…

“What? It’s the truth… Rumors say that he likes to sleep around.” He smirked. ““He probably saw it as easy to get under the dress of a poor thing like her.” She took one of the glasses from her and took a sip. “Who would want to date a woman like her? Two jobs, scholarship, living in a one-room apartment, abandoned by her father, dead mother.”

“You stupid piece of…!” Utahime tried to slap him but you held her hand.

“Utahime… no.” 

You didn't want to cause any more fuss, you didn't want it to escalate any further. You squeezed Utahime's hand tightly, feeling like tears had begun to fall.

Why?

Why are you crying?

You weren’t the type to cry, you could hold yourself pretty well but right there, you were feeling every emotion possible. You were ashamed of what Naoya was saying, ashamed because everyone was looking and hearing those words. You didn’t want Satoru to have bigger burdens, he already had enough dealing with his family matters, you didn’t want now for him to be pointed out for dating someone like you. 

Without realizing, you started to shake, as if you were out in the cold of a winter night. Utahime quickly noticed it and stood next to you, trying to calm you. 

“Naoya you better leave or I will make sure they kick you out of here.” Utahime said loudly. 

Time began to distort around you and when your mind reconnected you felt a familiar warmth next to you, a relaxing caress and safe eyes.

Present time

“That’s it…” You whispered, waiting for Satoru to say something or do anything, but his silence was killing you. “I’m so sorry…”

“Why are you saying that?” Then he spoke with a harsher tone than the one he usually used, one that made you feel intimidated.

“I… I caused a fuss.” 

He moved in the bed and positioned himself in front of you. “Listen.” He said your name while holding your hands. “You didn’t cause a fuss, Naoya and Naoya alone did it, okay?” You looked at him. “Please love, tell me you understand.” He raised his hand to your cheek. 

Your stomach turned as you heard that word from his lips again, “love”. The way he had said it, on both occasions, made you lose all sense of the world and make you feel dizzy. God, you loved that man and you didn't want to let him go, you didn't want to lose him for anything in the world.

Satoru's eyes widened, panic showing in them. "What happened? Why are you crying?" He said, wiping away the tears that had wet your cheeks.

“I love you.” You said and you noticed Satoru’s surprise look on his face. “I love you ‘Toru and I am so afraid… I am afraid of losing what it’s starting, I don’t want to lose you, lose us.” You hugged him. “I was so afraid, because I don’t know your world and… everyone was looking and I thought… what if his family finds out about who I am about my family.” 

You stopped talking, to hug him even more, if that was even possible. “And I felt so small, so vulnerable. I didn’t want to cause a scene, I didn’t want to be a burden to you.”

Satoru broke the hug and cradled your face, he kissed your tears. "Don't say that." He told you in a whisper. “You would never be a burden to me.” He emphasized the words “never” and then placed a soft kiss on your lips. "I love you." He whispered. 

Satoru wrapped his arms around you while caressing your back and kissing your head, it felt good, very good. You would like to stay that way forever, to feel his warmth, his love, for all of it to invade you.

“You wanna take a bath?” He whispered.

“With bubbles?” You looked at him. 

Satoru chuckled and smiled. “If you want it that way, I will do it.”

“Thank you…” You kissed his lips. 

“Anything for you my love.” He kissed you. 

The cold caught you as soon as Satoru left you, even though you were wrapped in a blanket you felt his absence. You watched from the bed as Satoru prepared the bathroom, he was still wearing his suit pants and his white shirt. He looked so good. 

“I can feel you staring.” Satoru looked at you from over the shoulder. 

“I was just thinking that my boyfriend looks so good right now.” You said.

“Well my girlfriend looks better, she was stunning tonight, a real queen, a goddess.” He walked up to the bed and placed his arms on either side of your head. “The bath is ready…” He whispered against your lips.

 “Will you bathe with me?” You asked him. “I want to do it like in the movies, to cuddle and relax.”

“Of course.” 

You stood up from the bed and took off your clothes, you didn’t mind anymore. Satoru did the same, although you weren't embarrassed to strip naked in front of him because he had already seen and touched every part of you, it was still hard not to feel nervous when you looked at him. Turning your head, you walked to the bathtub and got into it, so that a few seconds later Satoru got in with you behind you.

He leaned down and his lips gently brushed against your shoulder before he began to rub your back. The touch was tender but deliberate, each stroke of the sponge carrying a silent intimacy that seemed to envelop you both. In the tranquility of that moment, the closeness between the two of you felt palpable, as if the outside world had become insignificant, as if it had been erased and only you and Satoru existed. You could feel the warmth of him against your skin, his soft breath against your neck.

You wanted that moment of intimacy to last forever. To keep it in your mind and in your soul. 

“Babe you are going to fall asleep.”

A new nickname, how many did he have to keep calling you? But now you didn't care, you liked them, every one of them from birdie to my love, all of them.

“It’s just… it feels so good.” You closed your eyes, letting everything invade you.

“I’m so glad…” He whispered against your skin. 

You could feel his hot breath against your wet skin, how your skin bristled under that warm breath. Satoru placed wet kisses on your shoulder, while he continued soaping your body, treating you like you were royalty, a queen.

“Okay… I think it is time for you to rest.” He moved behind you and got off the bath. 

“But…” You pouted.

“No buts.” He kissed your cheeks. “Let’s get ourselves dry and sleep okay?” 

That night you gave yourself completely, letting yourself be cared for and loved without reservation. Every word Satoru whispered and every soft touch of his fingers left a lasting imprint on your skin, etching itself into your heart and soul. 

The warmth of his body wrapped around you like a comforting blanket. It was an eerily familiar sensation, evoking memories of home, peace, and a deep sense of security.

The dream welcomed you like an old friend and in the arms of the one who had captivated your heart you managed to rest and let all worries go away.

When the first light of day began to filter through the large window of Satoru's room, your eyes stung, that light was annoying, you wanted to continue sleeping, dreaming of dreams that you would later forget. But as you turned to circle Satoru's torso, you found the cold sheets next to you. Your eyes snapped open and you looked around the room. But it was completely empty, there was no sign of him.

You got out of bed and walked to the kitchen in search of your white haired boy. A smile appeared on your lips when you saw him sitting in one of the seats on the island. He was wearing gray sweatpants, his torso was exposed and his hair was a mess.

With a slow step, trying not to let Satoru hear you, you approached him. When you were close enough to him, you wrapped your arms around him and let out a “bo!” causing him to get scared.

You smiled at him. “Good morning.” 

“Good morning.” He kissed you. “Did you sleep well?” 

“So good…” You closed your eyes, enjoying his hug. “You look good this morning.” You said looking at him.

“I know…” You rolled your eyes with a smile drawn on your face. “You liked this morning view princess?”

You bite your lip and nodded. “A lot.” 

You knocked your kiss together, feeling how this one was deeper and hotter than the one you just shared. 

Satoru ran his hands under your thighs and sat you down on the kitchen island, causing a small moan to escape your lips as the cold marble collided with your skin. He placed himself between your legs and began to draw drawings on your legs, while the kiss you shared was filled with passion and heat.

His hand began to go up until it got under the hem of the borrowed t-shirt that you had taken from him last night and his fingertips, hot like a burning fire, traced your abdomen, causing a soft but lustful sigh to escape from your lips.

“‘Toru…” You gasped as his hand started to go up on your body.

“What love don't you like it?” You saw his smirk, his blue eyes now dark with the desire that had settled in them.

Your head snapped back when you felt his fingers pinch your nipple. “Oh…”

Satoru grabbed your hips and pulled you closer to him, making you stick with your legs on either side of his body. Your body was beginning to burn under his touch, feeling how his hands began to explore your body.

“I love how good you look with this t-shirt on, but I need you without it.” He whispered against your ear, his soft, hot breath hitting you.

“Take it off…” You said under your breath.

Satoru clacked and he grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it up, taking it off and throwing it away. The difference in temperature between the environment and your body, which was almost on fire, was evident, and a chill ran down your spine. 

Your fingers tangled in his white hair and he began to kiss your neck and then your collarbone, biting and sucking on the places where his lips landed causing your body to react. 

His right hand pinched your nipple again and you pulled at his hair, feeling the arousal corrupt you. His tongue began to descend along the edge of your breasts until it reached your nipple, which was already swollen from the pinches that Satoru had not stopped giving it.

Your legs surrounded his hips at the same time his mouth sucked on your nipple, you were too excited, too hot. Your hips began to move instinctively, seeking friction with Satoru. You knew he probably was hard rock down there.

“F-uck…” Satoru trembled when you touched his boner.

“Sa-toru… please.” You said moving your hips again against his boner. 

You could feel his grip tighten and his shoulders tense with every movement you made begging him. The atmosphere had become fucking hot, your bodies were burning and you had begun to sweat, while your hot breaths had become disordered.

Satoru pulled away from you and began to pull down his sweatpants. “Get off and turn around.” Your skin crawled as you heard his husky voice and the authoritative tone he had used.

That turned you on even more. You got down off the island and got off your underwear, leaving you completely naked. You felt Satoru's hands on your hips, as his thumb gently traced circles on it. Even though the atmosphere was charged with lust and excitement, Satoru was still delicate and careful with his movements. 

You felt his breath hit your skin and instinctively arched your back and neck back against his bare torso. “You seem so needy?” He bit your shoulder and you pursed your lips. “Come on little bird, what do you want?” You hated that he hesitated like that, you hated it but at the same time you loved it.

“Sato-ru…” You heavily breathed. “I… need you.” 

He chuckled and his grip around your hips tightened. “That’s what you want? Huh? You want me inside of you?” 

You nodded. “Please ‘Toru…” You looked at him with crystallized eyes and you could see how the fire lit in his. 

“You're so fucking beautiful.” He said, smashing his lips against yours at the same time he entered you. 

The moan in your throat was drowned in the wet kiss you shared. One of Satoru's hands left your hip and began to move up your abdomen, burning every place his fingertips touched. His hand came up to your chin and he grabbed it, breaking the kiss.

“You are taking me so well princess.” He smirked and your nails dug into the island counter, feeling him move inside you.

“Ah…” You moaned as Satoru's hand landed on your neck and made you throw your head back.

Satoru was rough and his movements were strong and penetrating, each thrust he gave felt like it went deeper than the previous one, causing your eyes to rotate inside your skull.

His left hand surrounded your neck, while his right hand rested on your lower abdomen. His mouth laid on your ear as he moaned and said your name softly. You bit your lip feeling each thrust, you wanted to be able to turn around and dig your nails into his skin, but you had to settle for being that way.

In the place only your gasps could be heard, mixed with the clash of your naked skin. 

You could feel how Satoru had grown more confident than the first night you spent together. You enjoyed that night, you couldn't deny it, Satoru had made you reach orgasm and he had made you feel like a queen but you had felt that he wasn't letting go completely, that he was holding back on you. But at that moment? Oh no, at that moment he was making you feel everything.

“Fuck baby!” He said deep inside of you. “I need to see your pretty face.” 

You protested when it came out of you, you wanted more, you wanted everything. Satoru grabbed your hips and turned you around, so that you were both face to face. His face was agitated, his hair on his forehead and cheeks were crimson red. 

Without letting you breathe for long, he grabbed your legs and put them on his hips and then entered again. You stifled a scream and buried your nose in his neck, it was the first time you were doing it in that position.

“C’mon babe, let me see your face.” He said as he moved his hips.

You looked at with tears of pleasure running down your cheeks. “Oh Satoru!” You tightened your grip on his shoulders as he moved in and out of you. “Fuck…”

“That’s my girl, taking me so well, doing that beautiful face.” He said biting your bottom lip and then kissing you. 

He came out of you again and you felt how you moved around the room and then sat on the couch. 

“Baby, do you know what I want you to do?” You looked at him through your tears and nodded.

You took his member in your hand and gently lined it up with your entrance and then let yourself fall into it. Your entire body reacted, with that position you felt bigger and deeper. Satoru raised his hands and began to massage your breasts, pinching your nipples while you moved your hips seeking orgasm.

Satoru’s face was red and his eyes were so dark, full of desire and pleasure, and completely focus on your chest as you were riding him. You grabbed his face and kissed him, in a burning kiss thirsty for pleasure, accelerating your movements even more.

“Fuck babe.” He mumbled. “I’m gonna cum…” He squeezed his eyes shut.

You let out a moan, you had come all over him and your entire body was vibrating and leaving you without energy. Satoru pulled out of you and took off the condom masturbating a bit more, cuming on your abdomen.

Neither of you moved, your chests rose and fell and you rested your body on his, closing your eyes and resting.

“You were…” You began. “So rough.” 

“You didn’t like it?” He said, and you were able to hear a hint of concern in his voice.

You shook your head. “I love it. You were rough but gentle.” You looked at him.

He sighed with relief and smiled. “I'm glad, I thought you didn't enjoy it.” He kissed your lips. 

“We're all sweaty…” You whispered against his lips. 

“Yes, we should shower.” You nodded. “Round two?” He asked. 

“Were you not satisfied?” You asked. 

“Oh yes I was, but I will always need more of you.” 

You couldn't help but laugh when Satoru started kissing and making ribs all over your body, so much so that you felt your belly hurt from laughing so much. After that you both took a shower and yes, there was one more round and in the afternoon you spent watching movies and to your surprise, Satoru was more emotional than you had thought, since you couldn't help but cry after watching La La Land. 

When the sky began to turn orange and pink, Satoru took you back home. He had insisted that you stay the night but you had no clothes, only the dress from the party and the giant sweatpants and t-shirt that he wore. Satoru had lent you. So at the door of Kyoko's house you said goodbye with a tender kiss, wishing to see each other again the next day.

As soon as you stepped inside the house Kyoko appeared and rushed to you with a huge smile drawn on her face.

“Who was it?” She asked. “Did you enjoy the night? You looked like an absolute princess.” She smiled. 

You bit your lip, remembering the night, you couldn't keep hiding the fact that you had seen Naoya and you couldn't pretend like nothing had happened either. Kyoko quickly noticed your look of circumstance and the smile on her face disappeared.

“Something happened right?” You nodded. “Okay let’s talk about it.”

“Yeah…” 

Kyoko took the dress from your hand and you both headed to her room, where you sat face to face.

“Did something happen with Satoru's family?” She asked first.

You shook your head. “Not at all… I only met his grandparents but they were nice.” You told her. “No… the thing is that I… I met Naoya there.” 

Kyoko looked at you, as if she was holding her breath.The more she looked at you, the more nervous you became, you felt every inch of your being speed up and your breathing become more and more erratic. You knew what she would say and you knew how she would react when she found out you had met at the club.

“Oh…” She finally said. “Did he do something?! Did he try something?”

You sighed. “He was his usual disgusting self.” You looked at her. “And he said some mean things, but… doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter. If it affected you it does matter.” She held your hands.

“Utahime was there and then I talked about everything with Satoru, so it’s alright.” You smiled trying to calm her down.

“You are sure?” She questioned.

“I’m sure…” You looked at her. “There is something else, I never told you this but… I also met him at the club that time.” 

Kyoko opened her mouth. “What?!” 

“Kyoko, relax please.” You tried to calm her down. 

“No, no, you are telling me that asshole appeared there and… wait was when you got hurt on your wrist?” You avoided her gaze. “Was him?!” You nodded. “Why didn’t you tell me?!” 

“Because you were going to get worried and it was pointless, besides you were having a good night I didn’t want to ruin that for you.” 

She sighed, obviously mad. “I don’t understand why you would do that. I’m your best friend, if you get hurt I will obviously get mad and want to kill someone, especially that someone.” 

“Well… sorry okay?” You whispered. “But… I just…”

“Stop, don’t say it was nothing or that I didn’t deserve to be worried because that’s something I decide.” She looked at you. “Next time, I don’t care what it is, I don’t care, you must tell me. Alright?” 

You felt your eyes getting teary and nodded. “Yeah… I will.” 

Kyoko hugged you and you let yourself be enveloped by her essence and warmth, closing your eyes on her chest. You stood there in silence for a while and then resumed your casual conversation. Before you knew it, your conversation had gone on for longer than expected and you knew that tomorrow you would wake up with dark circles under your eyes.

That week you spent it between Kyoko's house and Satoru's. Your boyfriend insisted on picking you up from work and that you stay the night with him. You didn’t mind, you actually liked spending time with him, the quality time both of you were creating was comforting. 

But spending more time with Satoru didn't stop you from spending time with your friends, and you also found time to be with Kyoko and now your extended group, which also included Shoko and Utahime.

You couldn't wait for the weekend you would spend with Satoru in Kamakura, and show him the place where you were raised.

Your only hope for one thing, that made your heart feel in your mouth.

Everything needed to be okay, you just wanted that.

notes: bit of nsfw content before the things that will happen in the future, hehehe

— comment if you want to be tagged

🏷️: @lavender-hvze , @crybabytoru , @sanriosatoru , @norvacaine , @sadmonke , @faetoraa , @hexipessimistic , @gojoful , @kitzusune , @sh0jun , @manyno , @ropickle , @anniegojo , @milk3evee , @crunchypotatoooooooooo , @catobsessedlady , @zoeyflower , @starlostwish , @tinydonkeysforlife , @mimisq11341 , @n1vi , @olanii1019 , @vtrulvamp , @yjuisu

[tessa-liam]

Life Goes On

Marabelle Series

Chapter 15 – Part 2

Choices – The Royal Romance, AU – (cross-over with Rules of Engagement)

Series Premise – An American teenager from New York City is introduced to the world of a small European country and its society of royalty, nobility, and commoners. How will her life story be transformed? Will this new adventure bring her happiness...or regret?

Marabelle Series Masterlist, My Complete Masterlist

Main Pairing – Crown Prince Liam Rys x F!OC Lady Sophia (Sophie) Taylor

Other Pairings – Maxwell Beaumont x M!OC Daniel (from NYC), Drake Walker x F!OC Melanie Smithson

Most characters belong to Choices/Pixelberry Studios

Series Rating – M*🔞Warnings: this series will have NSFW material, drinking, crude language & innuendo, gun violence

Many thanks to @selina012 for pre-reading.

Category – Alternate universe/on-going series/angst/fluff/cross-over with Choices Rules of Engagement

Chapter Summary – Liam returns home to Cordonia to find Sophie and to address his nation about the university terror attack.

Music & Title Inspiration: Life Goes On, Ed Sheeran, Luke Combs; Run To You, Lucy Thomas

A/N1: Bethany Beaumont, Maxwell’s mother, is originally from the U.S. and is Barthelemy Beaumont’s second wife. Annabelle Beaumont (deceased) is Bertrand’s mother.

A/N2: ‘Social Season’ in this AU series refers to a traditional period in the spring/summer for royalty and members of the court to take part in Balls, dinner parties and charity events.

A/N3: Heartfelt thanks to @Selina012 for joining me in writing ideas and with dialogue/content for this chapter and series.

Aboard the Royal jet, Rashad peered outside the window and took in the white sands of Cordonia's shores passing by. Suddenly his ears popped, and the pilot spoke over the intercom, announcing the estimated arrival time was in 5 minutes. He felt nervous and helpless and could not help but repeat his fears in his mind: ‘There hasn't been any good news’.

Drake watched Liam walk away from his seat, his hand curled around a glass tumbler filled with an expensive scotch. He wondered if they would hear news before they landed. Remembering his best friend's emotional spiral downward after the past assassination attempt three years ago at the palace; this had the makings of that same pattern. This time though, Drake was not going to leave Liam alone.

The dire problem of not having any clues where Sophie was at the moment was suffocating.

As they waited to land, the minutes seemed to draw out. There was not much he or any of Liam's guards could do but wait and prepare to offer the crown prince their full support.

Liam finished off his scotch, the fiery liquid barely registering, and tried to review the notes for his upcoming address to his nation in his head while stepping into his private suite onboard.

There had still been no update on his beloved Sophie's whereabouts or circumstances.

He took a deep, long breath and turned to Bastien walking next to him with unmistakable determination. "Bastien, contact the security team back home immediately. I need all the current details on the scene and an update on the rescue operations."

Bastien sprang into action, calling the security team leader and putting him on speakerphone so that Liam could hear the conversation in real time. Captain Sean Wilson answered the call.

"Captain, this is Crown Prince Liam Rys, requesting an update on the incident at the University of Cordonia." Liam's voice came through the phone speaker, clear and strong.

"Your Highness, the situation at the scene is complicated and we have deployed additional rescue teams to help facilitate the speedy rescue and recovery process.”

The captain’s voice was tired but remained professional. "We have confirmation that multiple students have been injured in the shooting. We have increased security three-fold around the campus and are working diligently to track down the suspects."

Liam's fists clenched involuntarily, but he remained stoic as he continued. "I need a complete list of all the known casualties. I want to know about each and every one."

"Your Highness, we have established a comprehensive emergency response mechanism. At present, we are compiling the information and rescue teams are working at full ability. The list of casualties is being urgently collated, and I will send it to you via encrypted channels as soon as it is completed."

Liam nodded, and though he could not be seen, there was an unmistakable insistence in his tone: "I need this completed as soon as possible. In addition, please continue to strengthen the search and rescue efforts to ensure the safety of all students. At the same time, increase the manpower to hunt down the suspects and I demand that they be brought to justice in the shortest possible time."

Shortly after hanging up, the sound of an encrypted email rang on Liam's tablet, which he quickly clicked on; and displayed a list of known casualties on the screen as asked. There were fourteen people in the column of the dead, and dozens of names in the column of the injured. Liam took a deep breath and began to go through the list of names, one by one, each name like a sharp blade, stabbing at his heart. He searched carefully, afraid to miss any possible detail. But until the end, he did not find Sophie's name.

Liam clenched his fists, his eyes shining with unshakeable determination. "Bastien, as soon as the jet lands, we will go to the scene and assess the situation personally.”

Bastien, at once responded: "Yes, Your Highness. I will ensure that everything is in place."

Liam turned his head to stare out the window at the clouds; his heart was in turmoil. Although Sophie's name did not appear on the list of casualties, his fears did not diminish. He knew that the lack of news did not mean that Sophie was necessarily safe. That she might still be struggling, or that for some reason she might not be able to communicate with the outside world. He had to ensure that Sophie was safe personally.

Thinking of this, he took out his phone and touched Sophie’s number with trembling fingers. But all he heard on the other end of the line was a cold, robotic voice: 'Sorry, the number you are trying to reach is unavailable.'

Sending a text, he carefully tapped every letter, as he expressed his worries and thoughts.

'Love, please call me as soon as you get this message. I'm worried about you.'

___

'Where are you? Are you safe? Why can't I reach you?'

___

'I'm already on my way back to Cordonia. Please wait for me. Please.'

As the minutes ticked by, the 'unread' message on the screen was an ironic and cruel reminder of the futility of all his efforts.

Frustrated, he then tried to call Sophie's aunt and then sent a text message to Maxwell. 'Max, are you okay? Where are you? Have you heard from Sophie?'

Shortly after, his phone vibrated and Liam checked the text immediately .... only to see Maxwell reply,

"Liam, me and Daniel are at the Malic Hotel now, we're all right. But Sophie got separated in the confusion!!!!😢 I have been trying to reach her without success. I'm really worried about her.'

Receiving this update, Liam, although still anxious, was also relieved that Maxwell felt safe. He immediately replied: "Max, good to hear you're okay. Please keep in touch, I'll be back as soon as I can, and we'll find Sophie together."

Liam then picked up his phone again and sent a text message to Sophie's Aunt Bethany:

'Duchess Bethany, this is Liam. How are you? Have you heard from Sophie? I am very concerned for her safety.'

A few minutes later, Bethany replied to his message: 'Your Highness, I'm fine, but Sophie hasn't been heard from since the ceremony. I am also anxiously awaiting her contact. Please try to not worry, I'm sure she will be all right'

Liam's heart sank to rock bottom as he closed his eyes, silently praying that she would be found safe and unharmed. At the same time, he also felt a deep sorrow for all the innocent victims of the attack. He understood as crown prince, he had the responsibility and obligation, along with his father, to ensure the security of the country and its people. This attack was an acute test of his leadership.

University of Cordonia, Capital

As Sophie wandered aimlessly through the maze of people, her eyes welled up. The adrenaline of an earlier escape from the auditorium faded and she felt more sadness, fear and heartache than she had ever felt before. For a moment, she could not control her emotions and tears ran down her cheeks. How she wished it all had been a bad dream, that she would wake up and find that it had all been a false alarm.

An hour later, Sophie and other surviving students and guests were evacuated in an orderly manner to a hotel outside of the campus, the Malic Hotel. The hotel was temporarily requisitioned as an emergency shelter and was surrounded by police and security personnel to ensure internal safety and order. But even so, there was an indescribable tension and unease still in the air.

Sophie had been assigned to room 302. The moment she stepped into her hotel room; Sophie could finally catch her breath. She sat wearily on the edge of the bed, looking out of the window with empty eyes, but her mood could not be calmed. She was eager to know more about what happened at the graduation, especially the mysterious men in black masks, their identity, purpose and why they were there; all of these became lingering questions in her mind.

She instinctively wanted to turn on her phone, hoping to find some clue or news report that would at least give her a sense of what had happened. But reality threw icy water at her - her phone screen was broken and riddled with cracks. She quickly pressed the power button, but the screen only flickered a few times, and then no longer responded. Sophie's eyes flashed with despair, as her contact with the outside world was completely cut off.

Thoughts came like a flood. She missed her Aunt Bethany, who supported her no matter what she was going through, who gave her endless warmth and encouragement, and who always made her feel at home in Cordonia. At the same time, she missed her horse, Marabelle. Every time she mounted Marabelle's back and galloped across the wide fields of Ramsford, all her troubles seemed to go away with the wind. Marabelle's eyes were always full of trust and loyalty, and there was a tacit understanding between them without words. How she wished now that she could feel the freedom and joy of running with Marabelle again.

But most of all, she missed Liam. In this unknown and dangerous moment, how she wished he could be with her, give her support and comfort. Liam, the man she was in love with, who gave her strength. She had never been so impatient to see him, to feel safe in his arms.

Now, however, she could only face all this alone; tears in her eyes had slipped down once again. In addition to missing Liam, Sophie's mind was filled with anxiety about the attack. She did not know how many people had been injured or even killed in the attack; whether Candy and Tom would get better, or what was going on with Maxwell and Daniel. They were her friends and family, and their safety stuck with her. She prayed silently that they would be safe.

Amidst this anxiety, there was so many questions. Who were those men in black at the graduation? Why would they target innocent students? What is the purpose behind this attack?

What puzzled her even more was the emblem of the earth and the baby. What does it mean? What has it got to do with the attack?

Her mind was full of confusion and uneasiness, questions swirled with no answers in sight, leaving her breathless. She tried to piece together every detail of the night in her mind, hoping to remember a clue or an answer. But the images were fragmented, leaving her unable to grasp and put together any useful information.

"Liam ..." Sophia muttered under her breath. She recalled what Liam had said about what he had experienced as a young prince and the memories of an assassination attempt that had fear cutting through his heart like a sharp blade.

Exhaustion came flooding in, overwhelming all her thoughts and feelings. Sophie lay in bed, breathing smoothly and deeply, and her body relaxed, as if all her worries and pain had been temporarily released at that moment. She drifted off to sleep with all her doubts, uneasiness, sadness, and longing for Liam.

The Royal Palace, Cordonia

The press was relentless. Inside the throne room, King Constantine stood stoically, as members of the press core demanded answers about the campus attack. Constantine cleared his throat and addressed the press directly and with the assurance of his years of reign and released a statement:

“At this dark hour, I stand before you with profound grief and pain in my heart. Like many of you, I am mourning the lives lost today, and we pray for the wounded to make a full recovery.

While we grieve the senseless violence that struck our country, we are also furious with the loss and sorrow brought on by those responsible for this evil act. We cannot and will not tolerate the murder and harming of innocent lives simply because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Those who commit such unspeakable acts will be held accountable and prosecuted to the fullest extent of the crown.”

Stepping down from the dais, Constantine was at once escorted by his royal guard out of the throne room. He looked visibly shaken and gripped his cane, trying to stand straight and upright.

Constantine's face was pale, and his eyes were filled with deep sorrow, his elderly face looked worn. But he refused to shed tears, still maintaining his dignified manner, while in public.

Lawrence, his personal guard, moved quickly to his side, “Your Majesty, the Royal jet has just landed with your son.”

Malic Motor Hotel, temporary safe house, University of Cordonia

The second group of surviving students were transported to the Malic hotel in orderly batches by the police in the pre-dawn night. The bright lights in the lobby could not hide the tension and in these in the air. Police officers, security personnel and medical staff were busy shuttling through the hallways to ensure that every student was properly accommodated.

The noise of footsteps and a murmur of conversation broke the sounds of the night. Sophie woke up, opened her eyes slightly, and through a gap in the half-closed curtains. She saw several figures hurrying along the corridor, as if new survivors had been brought in. She got up and dressed. Soon the door was gently opened, and a figure slowly entered the room. It was a girl about Sophie's age, a little wobbly in her step, visibly shaken by the night's horror and still reeling from the shock.

"Hey, um ... excuse me. I was assigned to this room. Is it okay if I come in?" The girl's voice was small and trembling, and her eyes were slightly timid.

Sophie at once stood up and smiled back, "Hello, come on in." The girl came closer, and Sophie could see her face. She had an East Asian face, long deep brown hair, and large black eyes full of fear and confusion, as if she had just woken up from a nightmare.

The girl said softly, "thank you, my name is Hana. What happened tonight was terrible ..."

Sophie took Hana's hand and sat her down on the edge of the bed. "Hi Hana, my name is Sophie. I know we have been through the same horror. But it is all right now. We can talk together and maybe it will make you feel better." Sophie tried to sound calm and friendly, hoping to bring some comfort to the girl.

Hana gave Sophie a grateful look, and took a deep breath. She began with great determination to recount her own experience at the graduation.

"I was with friends and all of a sudden the lights went out and they were gunshots ... I tried to run away, but there were screams and chaos all around me. I really don't know how I got out. I was taken to the stadium with some people and stayed there almost overnight until we were brought here. But I never saw my friends again. I got separated from them, I do not know what became of them..." Hana wiped tears from her eyes.

Sophie listened quietly, with a surge of sympathy and understanding. She thought of her friends Candy and Tom, and her cousin Maxwell and Daniel, and a pang of worry filled her heart.

"Hana, I've had my own friends injured and go missing too. Candy's arm was hit by shrapnel, Tom was shot in the shoulder, and they are both in the hospital; and Maxwell and Daniel got separated from me when they escaped. I am really worried about them. But I'm sure they will be all right. Your friends must have gotten out safely, too. You must believe that."

Hana's eyes flashed with emotion and trust as she listened to Sophie's words. "Sophie, you are such a strong person. If only I could be as brave as you."

Sophie patted Hana's arm gently and smiled wryly.

"Hana, it's normal to be afraid in this situation. In fact, I am also afraid, and all the people who have been through this attack."

Then Sophie's tone became a little heavier, and she decided to tell Hana what she had seen. With that, Sophie picked up the paper and pen on the table in the room and drew the sign from memory. Hana's face turned pale when she saw Sophie's drawing; her eyes widened, and she repeated in disbelief, "you saw this sign?"

Sophie nodded, her words unmistakable, "Yes, I'm sure. It was a very strange sign. I saw it clearly. They acted quickly and in an orderly manner. They were not ordinary thugs."

Hana held Sophie's hand tightly, her voice shaking slightly. "This sign, I have seen on the news, but with what specific event, I can't remember. However, it is definitely unusual and must be the hallmark of an organisation or group."

Sophie's eyes sharpened, and she frowned in thought. "This is no coincidence. The men in black were clearly prepared, and their attack may well have been targeted. We must tell the police about this as soon as possible.”

Hana shuddered, her voice filled with fear and worry. "But... will that put us in danger? If they are really that powerful, will they retaliate?"

Sophie's heartrate quickened. Of course she was afraid. The scene of Candy and Tom being shot and wounded replayed again before her eyes. The blood staining their shirts, the pain and helplessness weaving in their desperate eyes. These were images that she could never forget.

Then, in her mind, the panic of people running away, their faces showing fear and helplessness. Screams, cries, and pleas for help made up the most tragic symphony of the night. Fires were burning, the smoke was billowing, and the whole evening was enveloped in despair and confusion.

But thinking of the students who had been victimized, of Maxwell and Daniel who were still missing, and of Candy and Tom who were still in the hospital ... Sophie took a deep breath and quieted her heart. She could not let her fear consume her. She knew that her friends needed her. ... 'If you do not step up, Sophie, this kind of tragedy will happen again.'

Sophie stiffened her resolve, her voice was soft, yet powerful: "No, Hana, we cannot stay quiet. Candy, Tom, and your friends are just some of the many people who were hurt tonight. If we stay silent because we are afraid, more people will be hurt in the future. We can't let this continue to happen."

Hana's fear was replaced by a kind of courage as she listened to Sophie's words. "You're right, Sophie. I won't back down," She nodded firmly.

"Sophie, I'm so happy to meet you." Hana looked sheepishly at Sophie, blushing.

"If it wasn't for you, I don't know what I would have done."

She touched Hana's arm and smiled, "I know you have determination, too, Hana." Sophie was genuinely happy ... happy to be friends with Hana.

Sophie hesitated for a moment, then whispered to Hana, "Hana,can you show me the news? My phone broke during the attack." She pulled out her cracked cell phone.

Hana nodded, and picked up her phone from the nightstand to open the news app. Together, they stared at the small screen, searching for news related to last night's university shooting.

On the screen, several shocking reports soon came into view. The mass shooting at the University of Cordonia had attracted widespread attention from the national and international community. The report detailed the chaos and bloodshed of the night, but also said that the police were fully investigating the incident and promised to bring the perpetrators to justice as soon as possible. As she read, she felt mixed feelings.

Sophie continued browsing. Suddenly, a marked headline hit her eyes and made her heart beat faster. --

"Crown Prince Liam Rys urgently ends his visit to Italy and returns home to respond to the shooting incident at Cordonia University."

She tapped eagerly; the live broadcast of the news began automatically.

On the screen, Liam stood in the doorway of the familiar white, shadowy auditorium, behind which the smoke had not fully cleared and live images of ambulances and police cars could be seen. Liam's figure stood unwavering behind press microphones.. He wore a black suit, his eyes were slightly solemn, but his face was more resolute and decided, that could not be ignored.

Sophie stared intently at the screen, every subtle expression of Liam tugging at her heartstrings. His voice came clearly over the phone, calm and strong.

Sophie's eyes were red and brimmed with tears. Her heart was racing, as she felt Liam's deep emotion coming through the screen. And then Liam's words turned to unquestioning determination:

Sophie stared at the screen, her tears spilling onto her cheeks. The moment she heard him say the words, 'Our Cordonian family', her heart swelling with indescribable excitement and pride; she wanted to run to his side and face all of this with him. However, this emotion was quickly overcome by reason, knowing that she could not expose her relationship with Liam, especially when there were other people around watching. She gently turned down the volume on the phone for fear that Hana would notice her emotional reactions. She clutched the phone tightly, as if she could feel Liam's presence and power in her hand.

"Sophie, what's wrong?"

Hana's voice sounded softly, interrupting her thoughts. Sophie suddenly came back to herself with a disguised smile, trying to sound natural. "Oh, nothing, I just didn't expect Prince Liam to be back so soon, it's only been a few hours since the shooting."

There was a subtle tremor in Sophie's words, afraid that her mind would be read by Hana and cause unnecessary trouble for Liam. She knew that at this particular moment she had to be careful not to reveal her relationship with Liam.

"Hana, could I possibly use your phone again? I want to send a text to my family and tell them about my situation."

Hana heard her words, a flicker of concern in her eyes. She seemed aware of Sophie's inner struggle and longing, but out of respect and trust, she did not ask any more questions, just smiled and nodded, "Of course, Sophie." You can use it whenever you need."

Sophie gave Hana a grateful look, and a warm wave came through her heart. She quickly opened the text messages on the phone, her fingers jumping over the keyboard, as she sent two messages. The first one to Aunt Bethany and the second one to Maxwell. In the text messages, Sophie told them that she was doing well and that they should not worry. She expressed concern for Maxwell and Daniel and hoped they were safe.

After sending the two texts, Sophie took a deep breath and began her text to Liam. She edited the text carefully ...

"Hi, Li, this is Sophie.

I'm all right. I am in Room 302 at the Malic Hotel at the university.

There was a shooting at the graduation, and I was lucky to escape. My phone is broken, and now I'm texting you on my roommate, Hana's phone.

I know you must be terribly busy and worried at the moment, but please believe me, I am fine and safe.

Don't worry about me. Just focus on what's needed right in front of you. I love you and look forward to seeing you soon."

The message didn't mention Liam's real name, and Sophie was confident that he would get her message. After pressing the send button, the words "Delivered" appeared on the screen. Suppressing her feelings, she quickly removed the text message, making sure it left no trace.

It didn’t take long for Sophie to hear back from Maxwell and Aunt Bethany.

Maxwell:

“Sophie, it’s so good to hear from you! Daniel and I are at the Malic Hotel too, and we are doing fine. We were looking for you, too. Just relieved to hear you are okay. We’ll talk more when we meet up.”

Aunt Bethany:

“Dear Sophie, I’m so happy to hear from you! Thank God you are okay. We are all so worried about you, but now we can relax. Be safe and we will see each other soon.”

After receiving notifications of incoming messages, the corners of her mouth cannot help but raise in a happy smile, a big stone in her heart finally fell to the ground. Sophie held the phone and re-read their loving words, feeling the warmth and support from her family.

A ray of sunlight penetrated a gap in the curtain and gently spilled into the hotel room, shining on Sophie's face. She gently closed her eyes, quietly feeling the warmth of the sun, the soft light made her very at ease, like a pair of warm hands, smoothing her fear and anxiety away. She was relieved that Maxwell and Daniel had escaped safely and that she could tell Aunt Bethany about herself.

And Liam will know that she's safe. Sophie found a trace of comfort and strength in reaching out to him.

"Thank you, Hana." Sophie smiled and handed the phone back to her new friend.

Hana took the phone and put it away, quietly watching it all, with a warm glow in her eyes. She may not know the story between Sophie and Liam, but she could sense that there was a deep emotion and connection with him in Sophie's heart. In this time of uncertainty, they were supporting each other and facing life's challenges together.

Cordonia International Airport

The Royal motorcade was situated on the tarmac in wait to take Liam and his men to the university.

Liam strode quickly and confidently to his SUV after his security detail had provided Liam with a report of all the victims and fatalities. Sophie's name was not listed, and Liam's heart remained uncertain, until he saw her with his own eyes.

His duty of keeping alert and informed for his country allowed Liam to control his fears of the possibility of seeing his beloved injured or worse. He fought against every fiber of his being to not burst through the chaos, with full disregard, to search for Sophie among the evacuated students. Liam, surrounded by his royal guard, Drake and Rashad, he walked onto the university grounds.

Drake, on the other hand, was not worried about propriety and cared for none of it. He rushed in and did not pay attention to anything but finding Sophie and Maxwell. He broke past some of the law enforcement and was met by a swarm of flashing cameras and press microphones.

"Back away!" He snapped, having to put his forearm up, and not relent. The flashing bulbs, whirring of camera lenses and questions being thrown at him was enough to drive any sane person mad.

"Don't you have decency? What type of scoundrels and fiends are you?"

An officer who recognized Drake, yelled, "settle down, everyone, he's an American friend of the prince's, stand down and don't crowd him."

On the campus of the University of Cordonia, even after several hours had passed, the chaos in the auditorium had not abated by a minute. Several police cars and ambulances, flashing their warning lights, stood by the side of the road at the ready. Police officers and ambulance workers were busy moving around the scene, serious and focused, although physically and mentally exhausted, but still stuck to their posts, to deal with the incident.

A police cordon has been placed around the scene to seal off the auditorium from the outside world. Liam saw the chaos and destruction ... and the despair of his people.

Liam took a deep breath, adjusted his emotions, and walked resolutely into the crowd and up onto the raised dais. The crowd grew quiet, and all eyes turned to the crown prince.

" Last night, our university campus has experienced an unprecedented trauma. On behalf of the royal family of Cordonia, I extend my sincere comfort and deepest condolences to all those who have been hurt and who have been affected by this tragedy. Your pain is the pain of all Cordonia. We will do everything possible to provide the necessary support and needed assistance to make sure everyone gets through this."

At this point, Liam's eyes flashed a subtle tenderness, that is his endless miss and love for Sophie.

But Liam took a deep breath and condensed his emotions and anger into a powerful determination.

"We will not sit idly by and let go of any of these terrorists. I promise that the Crown will use all resources in its power to track down the attackers and punish those responsible for this tragedy. We will bring justice to the victims, and to our people, to our Cordonian family."

***

The sky in the east gradually lightened as the night slowly faded; like the tide falling, as if in response to his words. A ray of dawn pierced the darkness, and the sun rose at last. The golden light slowly and gently spread over the campus, silently dispelling the darkness and cold; to bring a touch of warmth to the morning. There was renewed trust and hope in the eyes of the crowd. At this moment, they are silently praying, their hearts are full of deep hope: may such a tragedy never be repeated, so that the dead can rest in peace, and so that the living can find the strength to move forward; In the hope that the murderer will be punished, and there will be no hiding places of any crimes and evils.

As the Royal guard escorted Liam from the stage, Bastien approached with Liam’s mobile phone in hand.

“Sir, Lady Sophia has left you a message.”

Thanks for reading ❣️

@choicesficwriterscreations

@selina012

📌tags in the comments, please let me know if you want to be added or removed.

[dfortrafalgar]

Envious

Law x OC

Law is caught red-handed being jealous over someone who isn't even his... yet.

A/N- i wrote this a few months ago specifically for my own OC! I attached a cringe reference pic of her at the bottom of this fic, and me being my own worst critic, i really need to redraw her better at some point LOL. crazy how much you can change after only a few months, but i digress. I'm sorry it's been taking me so long to work on requests, so in the meantime I'm going to go back to posting some things that have been sitting in my google docs not yet published to here. thank you all for your patience!!!

Law was a calm man.  He was a level-headed man.  He thought before he spoke, meticulously planning every moment of his life down to the most minute details.  He was stone-faced, unmoving, unwavering.

And yet, he sat at the table in the Polar Tang’s galley, a coffee mug gripped so hard in his hands his knuckles were white, as his sharp, golden eyes stared across the room from him.  His jaw was clenched as tight as a vice.

“Captain, what in the world is your problem?”  Across the table with a newspaper in his hands, was Penguin, who had finally taken notice of Law’s threatening aura in front of him.  Law didn’t respond to the question, instead continuing to stare daggers at whatever was in his direct line of sight.  Penguin placed the paper down, turning his head over his shoulder to follow Law’s vision.

In the common area directly across from the galley sat Bepo on the floor, rolled onto his side, mouth wide open as snores exited his nostrils at a rhythmic pace.  Nuzzled up impossibly close to the large polar bear was Ruža, boiler suit zipped down to her waist, sleeves tied around her hips as she instead used Bepo’s ample amount of fur as a space warmer.  Her long hair was tied into a tight bun.  She was sprawled out along Bepo’s belly, head resting under the bear’s chin, a content smile on her face as she dozed off within her crewmate’s comfortable heat.

Penguin turned back around to face Law, a devilish smirk crawling across his eyes.  “Don’t tell me you’re jealous.  And of Bepo out of everyone!”

“Will you keep your voice down?” Law quipped back, voice hushed, yet harsh.  

His mate laughed at his captain’s behavior.  “Never took you for the possessive type.”

“I’m not possessive,” Law grumbled, finally releasing the death grip he had on his mug and instead using his hand to pull the brim of his hat downward, covering his eyes.

A hard thump resounded next to him as the bench of the table rattled.  “You sleep on Bepo all the time, and so does the rest of the crew.  Why is it a problem when Ruža does it?”  The new voice, Shachi, followed his statement by taking a generous bite out of the bread he had retrieved from the kitchen.

Penguin responded for Law.  “He wants to be the one on top of Ru–”

Law’s motions were quicker than lightning, reaching across the table, grabbing the discarded newspaper in his fist, and whacking Penguin over the head with it to shut him up.  The two men burst into a cacophony of laughter.  They both knew better than anyone that Law meant absolutely no harm with his actions, he just had difficulty expressing his emotions.  Extreme difficulty, at that.  The laughter from Shachi and Penguin was enough to wake the mink across the room and the girl sleeping against his fluffy chest.  Bepo yawned, forgetting about Ruža draped underneath him and sat up, causing her to startle awake.

“What’s all the noise for?  I was having a good dream,” Bepo uttered, sleep still heavy on his tongue.  

Beside him, Ruža sat up, stifling her own massive yawn.  She awkwardly got to her feet, unwrapping her sleeves from around her hips and re-buttoning her boiler suit.  She turned to face the three in the galley across the room from them, smiling at the sight of Shachi and Penguin covering their mouths in vain attempts to smother their laughter as Law sat hunched over, both hands now gripping his fluffy hat, pushing it so far down his face that the entire upper half was obscured, leaving just his clenched lips visible.

The woman turned to Bepo, helping the animal off the floor.  “Thank you for the wonderful nap, Bepo!”  She turned on her heel to exit the galley, refreshed and ready to continue her tasks for the day.  

Bepo finally approached the table, plopping himself down next to Penguin who was wiping tears from his obscured eyes.  “Seriously, why are you guys laughing?”

“Captain was jealous of you,” Shachi said, his mouth curled into a wide grin.  “Because Ruža was napping with you.”

“Aw, Captain, you should just tell her you want to nap with her!  I’m sure she’d say yes, she just likes to nap on me because I’m so fluffy and you’re so boney,” Bepo casually spurted, innocent beady eyes matching well with the wide, toothy smile on his muzzle.  Penguin almost spit his coffee out at the backhanded comment.

Law groaned, his head dropping into his arms, hat being shoved off his head.  “Thanks for the encouragement, Bepo.”

Shachi nonchalantly rubbed his captain’s back.  “There, there, big guy, it’s alright.”

“Uhm…”

A new voice alerted the four friends toward the opposite doorway to the galley.  The masked helmsman, Hakugan, awkwardly stood in the entranceway, using his upper body to hold the heavy steel door open.  “Captain, you’re needed in the bridge for a quick maintenance check.  Sorry if I’m… interrupting something.”

Law was on his feet, hat situated back on his head faster than the speed of light.  His hand grabbed his sword that was left leaning against the wall, leaving his half-empty coffee mug completely abandoned as he followed Hakugan out of the galley.

His three friends watched him go, knowing smiles on their faces.

“He’s totally in love with her,” Penguin sighed, dreamily.

“Why won’t he say anything, though?” Bepo’s question was innocuous enough.

“You know how bad he is with feelings.  He’d rather die than be vulnerable with anyone,” Shachi responded, dropping his chin into his hand.

The conversation quickly dissipated, and the three finished their drinks and food before scattering for their own afternoon work.

—

A few days had passed since Law got called possessive.  Jealous.

The raven-haired man was staring at himself in the mirror of the crew washroom, hands clutching the sides of the metal sink as he gazed into his own face.  He wasn’t jealous.  How could he be jealous of his best friend?  Everyone loved cuddling with Bepo, how couldn’t you?  Law wasn’t jealous.  He didn’t own Ruža, no one did, and he’d rather swallow hot coals than ever make her feel like she was stuck in that situation again.  He wasn’t jealous.  He wasn’t–

“Captain?”

Law jolted.  In the mirror’s reflection, the person he wanted to see the least was behind him, leaning against the open door.  Ruža’s eyebrows were furrowed with concern, blue eyes shooting daggers into his back.

“Ruža, sorry, I’ll get out of your way.”  Law quickly grabbed his hat from the countertop beside him, turning around to attempt to get out of the room as quickly as he possibly could, sans using his devil fruit (he didn’t want to look that pathetic).  

“Are you alright, Law?” Ruža gently grabbed at the sleeve of his coat as he passed her.  “You look feverish.”

Law couldn’t bear to bring his eyes to meet her bright ones.  His heart was hammering so wildly behind his ribcage that he was scared it might give out.

“Yes, I’m fine,” he muttered blankly, staring off into nothing.  He bit down the disappointment that he felt as Ruža’s hand fell from its grip on his clothing.

“Okay…” she replied, though clearly unconvinced.  “Let us know if you need any help with anything.”  She finally entered the washroom after him, going straight to the medicine cabinet to grab her toothbrush.

With her back to him, Law silently turned his head toward her.  His eyes landed on the tattoo still imprinted at the base of her neck, exposed by her tied-up hair, his saliva catching in his throat.  The last thing he wanted was for her to feel trapped in this steel submarine she now called home, trapped with him.  She needed to be free.

But the smell of her shampoo lingering in the air after she passed him was making it very difficult for him to come to his senses, as not only himself, but as a captain.  Ducking his head, he finally took long strides away from the washroom.

—

“Ikkaku, have you noticed something wrong with Law lately?”  Ruža was hanging up her boiler suit on a hook on the wall, shedding her clothes from the day for something much more comfortable.  

Behind her, Ikkaku was changing into her own loungewear, tight, curly hair tied into two buns.  The two being the only women on the crew meant that they had the privilege of their own bunkroom, away from the 20-something other men that they lived with.  Ruža joining the crew made Ikkaku elated, excited to have not only a roommate, but a new girlfriend at that.  And the two of them sharing the privacy of their own room meant their more personal discussions stayed far away from the prying eyes of their crass male crewmates.

“Now that you mention it, he’s seemed pretty uptight lately,” Ikkaku murmured, wiping her face down with a damp cloth.

“I feel like I did something to make him upset, earlier I saw him in the washroom and he wouldn’t even look at me.”  Ruža’s voice was laced with discomfort, clearly sullen about the events from earlier in the day.

“What could you even have done?” Ikkaku asked, finally turning to face her friend.  The curly-haired woman already knew about the deep crush Ruža had on their stone-faced captain, being her only confidant in her emotional turmoil.  “You’ve never said or done anything bad to him before.”

“That’s what I’m wondering about!” Ruža responded with an exasperated huff.  “He’s impossible to read, and he never tells anyone what he’s thinking, so if I did do something to upset him he won’t tell me no matter how hard I pry.”

Ikkaku flopped face first into her mattress, rolling onto her side and watching as Ruža pulled a baggy shirt over her head.  “When did he start acting so off?”

“Uhm… a few days ago I think.”  The redhead sat on her own bed, falling onto her back and gazing dimly at the metallic ceiling above her.

“Did anything happen then?”

It took the blue-eyed woman a few minutes to think about the previous day’s events.  “I took a nap with Bepo in the common room a few days ago, and Shachi, Penguin, and Law were having a conversation that woke us up, and that’s when he started acting weird, I think.”

Ikkaku pondered intensely over her friend’s words.  Shachi and Penguin having a laugh at Law’s expense was nothing short of common on the Polar Tang, the two of them being Law’s closest friends but also his greatest annoyance.

Ruža’s voice piped up again.  “Maybe it was because I was napping during the day?”

“No, that can’t be it, Law naps on Bepo all the time so he’d be a hypocrite for getting mad at you over that,” Ikkaku responded.

“Maybe he wanted to nap with Bepo and I was in the way,” offered the red-head.

A light bulb suddenly flicked on within Ikkaku’s skull.  She sat up on her bed with a start, making Ruža jump in surprise.  Wide, brown eyes trained on startled blue ones.

“Maybe he was jealous that you were resting with Bepo and not him.”

It took Ruža a few moments to process her crewmate’s words.  “No, that can’t be it.”

“Why not?”

“Because he doesn’t like me that way!  I’m a crew member, a subordinate.  I’m nowhere close to his rank, and even then that’d be pushing his duty as a captain.”  Ruža was immediately on the defensive with a tight frown.  “As much as I want that to be the case, there’s no way that can be it.”

Ikkaku grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest.  “Who says?  Law’s not the kind of guy to keep himself above everyone, we’re all equal in this tin can.  Penguin and Shachi make out in the supply closet all the time and no one bats an eye.”

“Penguin and Shachi have been making out in supply closets since they were teenagers.  Their scenario is different.”  Ruža sat herself up now, leaning back on her hands.  After a few tense moments, she released a pent-up exhale.  “I really want Law to like me the way I like him, but it’s wishful thinking.  He’s not that kind of guy, and he definitely doesn’t seem like the kind of person to get jealous.”

Ikkaku hummed.  “I don’t know, I have an inkling.  But, I don’t know him as well as Bepo, Shachi, or Penguin do, so I feel like if you really want an answer, you’ll have to go through them.  Even if it’s not some cute lovey-dovey romance situation, they might at least be able to help you figure out what you did wrong, if anything.”

Ruža glanced off to the side.  “You’re right, probably.”

“Probably?!” Ikkaku gasped, feigning offense.  “I’m always right!”

This got Ruža to finally crack a tired smile, a breathy laugh leaving her lungs.  “Okay, yeah, you’re always right.”

Their conversations continued until the lights went out.  Instead of sleeping, however, Ruža was laid on her back, staring blankly at the dark ceiling above her head.  Her lips quivered nervously.

—

“Shachi,” a hushed whisper alerted the ginger man’s attention from his porthole washing.  He turned his head left, then right, searching for the source of the noise.  “Behind you, dummy,” the voice came again, from behind him.  He finally turned around, spotting the nervous expression of Ruža peeking from around the corridor.  

“Why are you acting like you’re spying?  Just get over here!”  Shachi beckoned her over, and she complied without a word, slowly ambling her way over to where her older crewmate was working.  “Is everything alright?  Your eye bags look like they’re about to go on a longhaul trip.”

“I wanted to ask you something,” she replied, voice small.  She knew her eye bags were atrocious, she didn’t get a lick of sleep the night previous.

Shachi nodded, waiting for her to continue.

“Did I do something to upset Law?”

“Huh?”

Ruža paused, staring at the tinted shades that constantly covered the man’s eyes.  “What do you mean ‘huh’?  He hasn’t wanted to make eye contact with me in like a week now.  I want to know what I did wrong and figured you might know… you or Penguin.”

Shachi pinched the bridge of his crooked nose in between his fingers.  “Law is such an idiot, I swear.”  He dropped his hand, planting it firmly on his crewmate’s stiff shoulder.  “He’s not mad at you, I promise.”

“Then why is he acting like this?”

“Because he’s stupid and doesn’t know how to talk about his feelings.  He was jealous that you were napping with Bepo last week.”

Shachi’s words made the neurons in Ruža’s brain brown out.  Her jaw was slack, staring blankly at the man in front of her.  Ikkaku was right on the money.  She was always right.

“If you’re gonna get anything out of him, you have to corner him like a cat and force him to talk.  How else do you think he managed that alliance with Straw Hat?  That kid forced Law around against his will and in the end everything worked out.”  Shachi smirked.

“I’m not gonna drag him around like a dog,” Ruža muttered, hiding her flushed face in her hands.  “But… I want to try to talk to him.  I got no sleep last night because of this.  Clearly.”

Shachi patted the woman’s shoulder a few extra times before finally releasing his supporting grip on her.  “Let me know if you need anything else, alright?  You got this.”  He flashed her a toothy grin.

Finally having a few answers, Ruža felt her shoulders relax, a relieved smile on her face.  “Thank you, Shachi, you’re the best.”

—

The day dragged on slower than a ship on the Calm Belt, and no one had seen Law for the entire duration.  Not at breakfast, snack time, or dinner.  Someone claimed they saw the man make a mad dash from his office to the galley for food, but no one could back up that claim.  He was like a cryptid among his own crew.

Regardless, that evening, Ruža stood face-to-face with the hand-painted plastic sign that he kept hung up on the heavy metal door to his office.

DO NOT ENTER.  I AM WORKING.

‘Obviously,’ thought the woman with a frown.

With a trembling hand, she reached up and knocked three times on the door, cringing at the way the heavy sound screeched through the desolate hallway of the submarine.  She waited a few moments in deafening silence.  No answer.  Her hand faltered, but she knocked again, louder this time.

“Read the sign,” yelled a clearly agitated voice from within the closed off room.

“I can read just fine, Captain,” Ruža responded, surprising herself with the sass on her tongue.

More uncomfortable silence followed, before the sound of a screeching chair could be heard.  Slow footsteps approached the steel door, and Ruža backed up apprehensively, heart beating wildly as she anticipated the door opening.  It did, a tiny crack, allowing the glaring light from the hallway to shine off of Law’s weary face.  His eye bags were worse than her’s, and his hair clearly hadn’t been washed in some time.

He stared at the woman outside of his door for a few agonizing moments before simply saying, “Yeah?”

Ruža pursed her lips.  “I wanted to talk to you.  It’s imperative.”  Law didn’t need to know that she had been practicing that last word in the mirror for the better part of 20 minutes.  Instead, she kept her shoulders back, chin held high, attempting to assert herself in front of her brooding captain who she was madly, desperately, incredibly in love with.  She was failing miserably.

Law looked past the way her lips quivered and her arms trembled at her sides, as well as her own sleepless appearance.  He silently opened the door to his office a bit wider, inviting her inside.  Her apprehensive steps followed him, and she closed the door behind her, standing against it as she watched her captain meander back to his desk, plopping himself in his chair before leaning forward to rest his head in his hands.

“I want to hear from you why you’ve been ignoring me.”  Ruža tried to suppress the way her voice trembled on its journey into the air.  “I have my suspicions, but I want to hear it from you.”

Law bowed his head, the shadow from his bangs concealing his eyes from her vision.  “What are your suspicions?”

Ruža was very quickly growing impatient, not helped by her lack of proper sleep.  “That you were jealous that I was napping with Bepo.  Shachi told me, but if that’s the case, I want to hear the truth from you, no one else.”

Law was worried that the sound of his hammering heart beat would be audible from across his office.  His own fingers were trembling with nerves, he never in a million years thought he would ever be in a situation like this one.  He did everything possible in his attempts to close himself out from intimate, personal connections, losing one too many people for his liking.  And yet, a woman stood before him (well, behind him), who held his weary heart in a grip so warm and caring that he almost didn’t want it back.

The red-haired woman waited patiently for her captain to respond.

“Yeah,” was all he was able to breathlessly mutter.

Ruža waited for him to continue.

“I was jealous.  But I shouldn’t have been.”

“And why were you jealous?” she demanded.  “The entire crew loves napping with Bepo.  Tell me why it’s different when I do it.”

Now it was Law’s turn to grow progressively more agitated.  His teeth clenched within his closed mouth.  “Do I really have to say it?”

“If it’s really this hard for you, then you don’t have to bother.  I’m just tired of you acting like I don’t even exist.  We’re in a damn submarine, it’s a bit hard not to feel ignored.”  Ruža’s voice had softened only slightly.  She was aware of her captain’s emotional issues, she knew bits and pieces of why he held everyone at three arms lengths away from him.  She knew that the tattoo she had forcibly inked on the back of her neck was a disturbing sight for him, just as it was a painful scar for her.

With a deep, shuddering breath, Law finally leaned back in his chair.  He closed his eyes, tossing his head back, breathing shallowly through his nose.  “I know it was immature of me to treat you like that, Ruža, I’m sorry.”  He rotated his head only slightly to glance towards the woman at his door, gazing at her with golden eyes that were filled with an unspoken agony.

“It’s okay,” was all she said back.

An idea popped into Law’s anxiety-ridden mind.  He slowly pulled open one of the messy drawers of his desk, procuring a wrinkled blank piece of paper.  Pulling a pen from a cup on his desk, he pulled the cap off and started scribbling frantically onto the paper.  In his head, the vision of Corazon writing on slips of paper to communicate while he was pretending to be mute flashed through his vision.  If Law couldn’t muster up the courage to vocalize the three little words bouncing aimlessly through his skull, then he’d just write them down.

The scratching of pen against paper finally ceased, and Law stood, keeping his head low as he passed the paper underside-up toward Ruža, who carefully took it from his hand.  Flipping it around, she began to scan the words sloppily written on the front.

Ruža clenched the paper within her shaky fingers.  The words she herself had been afraid to say were written at the top.  I love you.

The silence was palpable, so thick you couldn’t even slice a sword through it.  Shockingly, however, a light, airly laugh infiltrated the space.  Ruža’s face was flushed a bright, rosy red, and her mouth was twisted into a nervous, childlike grin as she tried with all her might to keep down the nervous laughs that were forming in her chest.  She couldn’t help it, small giggles escaping her lips as her shoulders shuddered with the effort of keeping them in.  Law picked his head up, staring with a mixture of shock and bewilderment.  He poured his heart out onto a piece of paper, and she was laughing at him.

“I’m not laughing at you, Law,” she finally managed to say.  “I love you.”

The formidable captain of the Heart Pirates, one of the most wanted men in the world, nervously swallowed the glob of spit that had formed in the back of his throat.  “You… you do?”

“Yeah.”  Her response mirrored his curt words from the short minutes prior.  “I was so scared that I did something to upset you.”

“God, no, you could never,” Law replied, breathlessly.  He felt 100 pounds lighter, like he could float away on the slightest breeze.  The three words that had cursed him for almost 20 years of his life now held a new weight to them.  A new, liberated weight.

The woman in front of him, with a nervous, giddy smile dancing across her lips, eyes closed tightly with the force of her infectious smile, held his heart so tightly in her grasp and she didn’t even know it.  Not yet, at least.  That would come with time.

Ruža broke the silence.  “Can I please hug you?”

Law felt the corners of his own mouth twitch upwards.  “Of course.”

The red-head closed the distance within a few short steps, hiding her face within Law’s chest, still giggling like a child over the sudden revelation.  She kept the paper held firmly in her hand as she wrapped her arms around his torso.  Law’s scruffy chin found its perch on the crown of her head, the scent of her shampoo filling his nostrils and clouding his mind with a bliss he had never experienced before.  He couldn’t fight his smile any more, letting it consume him, the same way he accepted the way his heart beat uncontrollably within Ruža’s presence.

“I’m sorry I’m laughing, I can’t help it,” she mumbled, the sound muffled by her face squished in the fabric of his sweatshirt.

His hands found their place around her shoulders, his left hand involuntarily coming up to rest on the back of her neck, covering her tattoo with his own inked hand.  “It’s okay,” he responded, his words quiet and soft.  “This is all new to me.”

“It’s new to me, too.”

The two stood in the same position for what felt like hours before Ruža finally (though regrettably) backed away slightly.  Law’s hands slipped off her shoulders, but his fingers gingerly brushed along her tattoo.

“We don’t have to do anything about this if you don’t want to.  I know with you being the captain and everything makes this kind of weird.”  Ruža’s eyebrows angled in a way that made her appear almost sad at a reality that hadn’t even happened yet.

It took Law a few moments to really form his response.  “No, I… I think I want to try.  I don’t know what to do, though.”

“Me neither.”

Now it was Law’s turn to laugh.  “We’re fucking hopeless.”

“Tell me about it.”

Ruža gazed longingly at the paper she still held in her hands, eyes repeatedly glossing over the three words at the top.  Law could get used to the way her bright eyes softened, as if not believing that what she was reading was the truth.  In the back of her mind, the reason she had even shown up to his office in the first place pushed itself back to the forefront.

“So about you being jealous…”

[romanarose]

If You Wanna Be Wild: Chapter 8

Co-written with @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction my beloved Fen, who I could not do this without. Thank you for being my emotional sounding board, my dear friend, my wonderful cowriter and helpful beta reader. I adore you.

Javier Peña x Latina!Reader/oc x Santiago Garcia

Join my general tag list (Comment to join the tag list for this fic)

Triple Frontier Master List

Spotify Playlist

Series Masterlist : Read on AO3

Summary: Santi wallows and Candy is hurt.

Content and warnings for whole fic, not chapter by chapter unless something is added: Sex work, drug trade, some drug use/pressured used, sex workers and the mistreatment/stigma surrounding them specifically in the 70’s (my blog is sex worker positive) but ima put potential dub con depending how you look at it as a sex worker who works with dangerous men, some action surrounding reader and the guys and the drug trade, SMUT HEAVY, corruption kink (were corrupting santi here, he’s young, 25), no loss of virginity tho, threesomes, some slight m/m smut but that’s not the focus here, but as you know this blog is an lgbt blog so I’m always open to gay shit. Talk of war and some PTSD but I won't be going a whole lot into it. Covert/emotional incest in the past, Santi's mommy issues, m/m dynamics, internalized bi/homophobia

Reader speaks Spanish and has hair. I've decided Candy is just latina bc she's a sex worker in Colombia so this is what I'm doing. Reader also has curly hair and dark skin.

ADDITIONAL WARNINGS!: Deep internalized homophobia

Amazing smut by Fen as always!!! send love their way!!!

2.3k words

Support writers! Reblog and comment!Keep reading

Santi flinched when he heard another plate crash against the wall, thrown by mamí’s hand and hurdled towards his sister. They were screaming at each other again, and it was bad this time. Elaina had been caught by a neighbor boy's mom, naked in bed with that neighbor boy and brought her to mamí for punishment. Santi had woken from his sleep to the knock, and when he opened his eyes to see Elaina’s bed was empty, he knew it was her. It was always her. Why couldn’t she listen? Why couldn’t she just behave? She caused mamí so much stress when she already worked so hard. Look where they were, the three of them living in a small 2 bedroom apartment, the two siblings were still sharing a room at 14 and 10. She needed to do better for mamí.

“Libertina!” Mamí shouts, slapping Elaina across the face. “How dare you disrespect me! How dare you embarrass your brother!”

Santi didn’t feel embarrassed. Should he feel embarrassed? Mamí said it was embarrassing. Yeah, yeah he felt embarrassed. Humiliated even.

“Mamí! Just listen! I’m trying to talk to you!” Elaina is crying, crumpled clothes had noticeable tearing at the collar. 

“Callate!! No quiero escuchar a una puta fea!” Mamí reaches for her shoe. Santiago closes his eyes, clenching his little hands up into fists, squeezing them every time he hears the smack.

*

When it was all said and done, Elaina was sobbing in her bed, and Santiago was pulled onto his mother's lap. He had the distinct feeling he was too old for this, but he didn’t protest. Mamí didn’t like when he said he was too old for something, or grew out of anything. He outgrew a pair of jeans last week and she cried about how soon he’d find another woman and leave her. She said he was hers. Her little man. Her esposito. Her Santito.

Mamí held him close, arms wrapped around his body as they watched TV, up past his bedtime, telling him how good he was, how he could never leave her.

“Don’t you ever leave, Santito, bueno? No woman will ever love you like I do. They’ll only hurt my baby. They won’t cook for you, women anymore don’t take care of their men. They don’t clean either. I’ll take care of you, always, just never leave me for another woman. As long as you are my good esposito, I’ll take care of my Santito.”

*

Santi would leave, eventually, but not for another woman. He left to join the military to pay for his mom's bills when she wasn’t making ends meet as she got sicker. Elaina took care of her, despite everything she put Elaina through. Elaina became someone Santi admired deeply, seeing her for who she was. She wasn’t the problem child. She wasn’t a menace. She was a normal kid. It was Santi that was strange. The guys in the force razzed him over his relationship with his mom, telling him his wife wrote him when a letter from his mom came. They also made fun of him for going to mass weekly or more, for praying even in the field, for not fucking the local women they encountered, but being called gay wasn’t anything new to him. He was called that in high school, along with a myriad of racial slurs.

Frankie never made fun of him, neither did Will. Ben did, but it was just friendly, nothing mean. Nothing like Tom. Will was religious, raised baptist and respected Santi’s ongoing commitment. Ben was a bit of a mama’s boy too, just not as bad as Santi. Frankie didn’t have a relationship with his family, so he thought it was sweet.

Santi thought it was normal. It was normal to constantly worry what your mom thought, whether or not you acted on it.

When Santi finally left his mom's grasp after she fell asleep on the couch, he felt a tightness in his chest. There was a sense that something was deeply wrong for laying there with his mom, a feeling that he was too old, that he didn’t want to do that anymore… but then a deep guilt for leaving her for the comfort of his own bed. He never knew what the right choice was, constantly second guessing every move he made when he went to war with his own wants and his mom's. Cracking the door to the room he shared with Elaina in their small apartment, he heard her crying. At first, he considered going back to the couch where mamí lay… but in addition to being mamí’s esposito he knew he needed to be there for Elaina too.

When he lay in his bed, Elaina eventually spoke. “She didn’t even ask what happened.” She sobbed. “I didn’t want to… I didn’t, but he- he- he, and his friends…” She broke down in heavy heaves once again, crying as the welts mamí gave her began to show in the moonlight and Santi began to realize what had happened to her. When she began to calm down, Elaina turned to him, her face set in anger he didn’t think was directed at him but he could never tell.

“Don’t you ever do that to a woman, do you hear me? If I ever catch you acting like that, I swear to god Santi, I swear to god…”

She never did finish that sentence, and Santi didn’t sleep that night, but he promised. He would never disrespect a woman, never. He would be a better man than their dad, than the men who did that to his sister. He’d make mamí and Elaina proud, he’d follow the word of God. He’d be good for his mamí. He’d make her proud. He’d be her good Santito.

*

“Good boy, Santito”

Cold ran down his back, through his torso and into his heart where it pumped the icy anxiety into every vein. He felt sick. Santi thought of his mom, thought of what she must think of him right now, what Jesus must think of him… in bed with a woman who isn’t his wife, kissing a man, feeling his erection in his pants as their bodies pressed into each other… and Elaina, what would she think of soliciting a prostitute?

He needed to go. He had to go. He had to get out of this room and maybe throw up and maybe switch jobs and go to confession and punish himself… he caused Candy to sin, he caused Javi to sin, if they go to hell it’s his fault, he’s going to hell, he’s going to burn in hell now and-

Santi realized he was already walking down the street, not remembering how he got there. He paid her right? Did he? Great now he was a sexual sinner and a thief. What was wrong with him? So many things… so many things…

Tucking himself into an ally, he doesn’t make it far before he starts throwing up, the little food he’s been able to get down coming back up. This is why his pants were falling off. He was a fucking disaster. He was a failure to everyone around him, he couldn’t even catch Lorea. There was no stopping the tears that came as he laid down on the disgusting floor. There was a needle by his leg and Santi was pretty sure someone had defecated nearby but he wasn’t in control of his own body anymore. The guilt was crippling, the sadness exhausting… He wanted to call Javi, Javi would make it better… but there was no better, was there?

It wasn’t going to be better.

Santi laid there until the sun set.

Javi opens his front door on the fourth knock, not bothering to check who is there before he flings it open, a scowl plastered to his features. 

His expression quickly softens when he sees you. Sees the redness to your eyes. 

“Cand-”

“Can I come in?” You cut him off quickly, you don’t want to see that sympathetic look, you don’t want to see worry in his eyes. This isn’t about that. 

You swallow down your emotions, force them down. Don’t think about Santi, don’t think about Santi, don’t think about Santi. 

You push past him before he can even answer, ducking under his arm that is holding open the door. 

“I… yeah?” He turns, shutting it and following you as you walk into the room. “What-”

Enough questions. You don’t need questions. 

You kiss him forcefully, slipping your tongue past his lips and lightly walking him backwards. 

Taken by surprise, he goes with the kiss, groaning softly. Your lips only break apart as you push him back onto his sofa. 

He tries again to speak. Tries to break through the shield you’ve put up. 

You don’t let him, dropping quickly to your knees between his legs and palming him through his joggers. 

He bites back a moan, eyes closing for a second as his body reacts on autopilot. His cock twitches under the warmth of your hand.

You don’t let him compose himself, pulling his soft dick from his clothes and quickly lean forward and take him into your mouth. 

He hardens quickly, growing as you swallow and bob until he nudges at the back of your throat. You groan, swirling your tongue as you deep throat him, taking him deeper. 

Javi’s moans grow in volume, mutters of praise slipping past his lips as the sounds rumble in his chest.

“Santi…” you whine as you come hard against him.

 “I wasn’t finished.” He smiles cheekily.

“Good boy, Santito.”

You choke, spluttering for a second as you breathe at the wrong time. 

“Baby,” Javi pulls you off him, salvia drinks down your chin as he takes your face in your hands. Worry in his eyes. 

That fucking look again.

“What’s wrong?” 

“I was just wondering if you… wanted some company tonight…” You say softly. “Free of charge?”

You hold his gaze as he looks over your face. You know that expression too. The one of a detective. You just wanted a distraction, and he could give it.

But after a moment he nods and doesn’t press further. 

You pull off your clothes quickly and climb into his lap when Javi has barely taken off his t-shirt. You waste little time, taking him again in your hand and pumping twice between you line yourself up with him and sink down. 

He groans, screwing his eyes up tight. 

You shiver. He’s big, and even though you’re used to him your body still reacts a little in surprise, clenching and hampering your intentions. 

You frown, wriggling, trying to take more and more even and fight the resistance. 

When Javi’s eyes meet yours you want to scream. To cry. 

You don’t want those soft eyes. You don’t need them.

Oh god, how much you need them. 

He doesn’t speak, doesn’t push. Simply rubs his thumb against your clit while his other hand holds your hip and stops you from trying to sink further down. 

It takes less than a minute for a spark of pleasure to run along your skin, for your hips to rock and for you to throw your head back in a soft moan. 

He gently pushes you down onto him, filling you and stretching you wide before he moves and flips you onto your back on the sofa with him above you. 

He thrusts slow and deep until you're digging your nails into his back and sobbing his name as he sucks bruises into your neck in time with the rapid rock and grind of his hips. 

“Javi…” You tense, gasping as your pleasure crests suddenly, overpowering and relentless. Robbing you of thought for one blissful moment. 

“That’s it, bebé, that’s it…” He whispers into your ear, slowing his thrusts but not stopping completely, letting you breathe and recover for a minute before he starts to build up again. “I’ve got you.” 

When you’ve settled, naked on his chest, Javi holds you close. He has a way of sensing when you need him, of when you need the extra touch and he’s there to give it.

A gentle kiss to the tip of your ear. “Do you wanna talk about it, Candy?” His voice was soft, letting you know you don’t have to answer. But you did, because it was Javi, your Javi, and you needed him.

“Santi’s mad at me.” You sniffle, clinging to him as the tears come for the hundredth time. “I- I don’t know what I did, but he just left- he left right after we… he wouldn’t even look at me, and he won’t talk me and it’s stupid, Javi I know it’s stupid because he’s a client, he’s just a client but, but-”

“Candy.” Long fingers tangle in your hair. “I know hes not just a client. It’s okay. You’re human. It’s normal for you- for us- to feel things… and I know how it feels to… feel… for him…”

You pause at that, then finally pull yourself off his sticky skin to look down at him. Your hair falls around, closing off the two of you to the world. “You… do?”

The look Javi gave you made your heart clench tight, something you’ve never seen in him. Worry. 

He gives a small nod. “He’s um… not talking to me either. I… kissed him… on friday. And he ran away so… I don’t think this is about you.”

You regard him curiously. You weren’t stupid, you were aware that those two were making goo goo eyes at each other for months, so this wasn’t a huge shock, and you and Javi were both on the same page of who gave a shit if someone was gay. You’d fucked plenty of girls during threesomes and group sex, and Javi…. Well, live and let live sort of man. But you didn’t expect the kiss at all.

Rolling over, you flop onto the bed beside him.

“You know how he is… guilt over everything… just a ball of anxiety. I wish… I wish I could take it away from him. I do. I wish I didn’t feel the way I did, but I do. It’s all gotten so… complicated.”

Javi’s hand takes yours, giving you a squeeze. “Yeah. it has.”

***************

thanks so much for waiting!!!!! it's been 5 ever, but not for lack of trying on my part. its been one thing after aother and then all of a sudden its been like 6 months????

anyway thank you to fen for everything, y deepest love to you always!!!!!!!

2 chapters left!!!!

love santi? want him dark?

Love Santi? Want him soft?

Joel handmiads tale au?

Want some dark logan howlett?

@runa-falls @lunar-ghoulie @campingwiththecharmings @whatthefishh @persephone-girl @criticalarchitecture @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @beelzebeth87 @pimosworld @millerscoffee @heareball @thatwonderouswoman @poolboydivision @meveispunk @lovable-liar @millllenniawrites @read-and-wip @missdictatorme @the-fox-den @milkymoon2483 @k-ra @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @rosellacwrites @legendary-pink-dot @dreamingofbucky @englandsgray @starsthatwatch @fairlyang @alwaysmicado @theywhowriteandknowthings @casa-boiardi @lostfleurs @ninebluehearts @puglover12 @sub-aro @laiisleiite @itspdameronthings @heareball @comfortlessjoy @csarab615 @calaveramangonda @bit-dodgy-innit @stevngrant @kirsteng42 @mrsjavierp @nanfafnan @lovable-liar @axshadows @cookielovesbook-akie @reallyrallyauthor@solar-fics

[ancnymcnzjy]

Checkmate

Pairing: oblivious f. reader x hostile f. oc

Genre: angst

Warning: Explicit language

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆ ˚ °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆⭒˚｡

“If we weren’t friends, who would you hang out with? Sunoo? Jake?”

The tainted memory plays once again in your mind.

Your hands ball into fists, a reflex to the anger you feel, your jaw clenching as you try to calm yourself, mostly from the hurt and bitterness that churn inside you.

She’s supposed to be your friend, but why does it feel like she’s turning into your mortal enemy?

It’s been like this since the end of freshman year, when you received the “Most Friendly” certificate during the end-of-year ceremony—an award she had hoped to win.

You thought she was happy for you—so did the rest of your friends. She clapped for you, even offered her congratulations.

But behind her wide smile and twinkling eyes, you realize it wasn’t happiness that lurked there, but simmering jealousy.

You thought you were okay. You laughed together, joked with your other friends, and even hung out after school—just like friends do.

But after discovering her hidden vendetta tied to the same feud you had about who was more popular, you realized she wasn’t the friend you thought she was.

•••

“If we weren’t friends, who would you hang out with? Sunoo? Jake?” she taunts.

“I mean, come on, you’d be a loser! You’d be one of those freaks who hang out in the stairwell or sit in the bathroom stalls during lunch.” She laughs, as if she thinks everything she’s saying is funny.

“Like you weren’t one of them before freshman year if I hadn’t approached you during geography class.” You want to say, but you choose not to, not wanting to escalate the situation further.

She continues, “You’d be friends with no one! Sunghoon moved away, Heeseung has only been hanging out with his girlfriend, and Jay left our friend group after you had that argument with him.”

Her words, just before class, are the final straw.

You turn to face her, your nails digging into your palm as you try to stop yourself from slapping her face.

Your chest heaves with exasperation and discomfort.

“My argument with Jay wasn’t my fault! I tried to get out of the situation you created before I was even involved. But because your stupid ass straight-up ignored him after he confessed his feelings and didn’t respond like a normal person, I had to deal with the consequences! I was both of your best friends, for fucks sake!” You leave her standing at the doorway of the classroom as you walk to your seat.

You cross your arms in frustration, eyes glaring into the distance, not bothering to look back at your friend, who’s now stuck in her spot, flustered and embarrassed, humiliated even, as she overhears the whispers starting to spread about her.

It’s not the first time she’s lost a friend because of her self-centered attitude and need to always be above everyone else.

And after everyone hears your recent argument, there’s no question she’s about to lose another.

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆ ˚ °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆⭒˚｡

Thank you so much for reading!

Do you like my work? Click this link to find my other published creations.

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆ ˚ °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆⭒˚｡

{Permanent Taglist} - Open!

@zanybirdmentality @starry-eyed-bimbo @m3owzzz @han-to-my-minho @1-itsneverthatserious-1 @evjirvninvitnvrnvirivn @woniiez

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆ ˚ °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆⭒˚｡

© ancnymcnzjy - All rights reserved.

All content provided is the original work of the author and is protected by copyright. Reproduction, distribution, or use of any part of this work without proper attribution is strictly prohibited and constitutes plagiarism.

[lura-valentine]

Hintes

This fanfiction was created before I knew what exactly I wanted to do with my OC Rain

➡️ click her for Rain's Profil ⬅️

+16 Content

With the exception of Rain, all characters belong to Kōhei Horikoshi

Please note that English is not my first language. So forgive me for mistakes.

Trigger Warning

This is about a near-rape. The dilemma of my OFC is described, but it does not come to a rape.

Don't touch her

The bar was dark and smoky, a place where one could easily hide in the shadows. The room was dimly lit, the light casting long shadows that enveloped the corners of the room in darkness. Rain sat on one of the high bar stools, her red eyes sparkling in the dim light as she twirled a glass of a dark amber drink in her hand. Her black hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders and her wings were drawn close to her back, like a bird of prey ready to strike at a moment's notice.

Shigaraki sat across from her, his pale skin and the eerie hand on his face standing out against the darkness. He seemed restless, his fingers twitching nervously and scratching lightly on the counter, testifying to his tension. His red eyes, cold and unpredictable, sought Rain's gaze, but she stubbornly looked away.

"We have no choice," Shigaraki finally said, his voice sharp and tense. "The city offers us the perfect location. No one will look for us under a bridge, and the heroes..." He made a dismissive gesture with his hand as if it were nothing, "...are too stupid to suspect us there."

Rain slammed the glass down on the counter, a soft clink echoing through the room. "Too close to the hero agencies," she answered with icy calm. Her eyes flashed dangerously as she turned to him. "You know full well that we cannot afford that risk."

"A risk?" Shigaraki laughed mockingly, a cold, hollow sound. "Risks are what we take every day. You're not usually this scared, Rain. Are you afraid you're not strong enough?"

Rain narrowed her eyes and hissed as she felt the anger rising within her. "This has nothing to do with fear, Shigaraki," she replied, her voice quieter now but full of venom. "It's about strategy. If we operate too close to the heroes, we give them a chance to find us. And I will not allow all our efforts to be ruined because of your recklessness."

"Recklessness?" He leaned forward and clenched his hands into fists, pressing them tightly against the counter. "You don't understand what's at stake here, Rain. We need this hideout and we need it now. If you're not going to accept that, then..." 

"And then?" Rain jumped up from her chair, spreading her wings slightly as she stood to her full height. "Are you going to force me? Send me into this trap against my will?" Her voice was now a dangerous mix of anger and wounded pride.

Twice, who had been sitting in the corner of the room and listening in silence, twitched nervously. "Hey, hey, guys, calm down," he tried to mediate with his hands raised. "We shouldn't argue, we're a team, right?"

But neither Rain nor Shigaraki paid him any attention. The tension between them was palpable as they stared at each other, neither of them willing to give in.

"It's not about forcing you," Shigaraki said finally, his voice colder now, more distant. "It's about you understanding that I'm the one who makes the decisions. And you..." He paused, his words heavy as lead. "...you have to follow them."

Rain felt the anger rising in her chest, hot like the dark red flames burning deep within her. "You..." She narrowed her eyes, her feathers beginning to quiver slightly as if they could burst into flames at any moment. "You're not the only one making decisions here and who has something to lose."

Shigaraki remained silent, staring at her with narrowed eyes. For a moment, it seemed as if he was going to say something, but then he just shook his head slowly, as if trying to shake off an invisible burden.

"I've had enough," Rain said suddenly, her voice sharp and determined. She turned and flapped her wings slightly as she headed for the door. "If you're so stubborn, do it alone, but don't expect me to follow you to your doom."

Kurogiri, who had been standing behind the bar and quietly watching the proceedings, stepped forward. "Rain, please..." he began in his deep, calm voice, but Rain just raised his hand to silence him.

"Not now, Kurogiri," she said without turning around. Her hand was already on the door, which she yanked open with a violent jerk. "Not now."

With one last angry look at Shigaraki, she disappeared into the darkness of the night, the door slamming behind her with a loud bang.

The silence that followed was oppressive. Shigaraki sat motionless, his eyes staring at the door through which Rain had disappeared, but a storm raged in his head.

"That was...not good," Twice muttered, looking cautiously over at Shigaraki, who was still motionless. Himiko, who had been sitting at the counter playing with a small knife, looked up and shrugged. "Couples argue. It's normal, right?"

But Kurogiri knew better. He approached Shigaraki, his dark figure almost protective as he placed his hand on his shoulder. "You know she's not just speaking for herself, Tomura. She's thinking about the whole thing. Maybe you should too."

Shigaraki blinked as if he had woken up from a dream and slowly turned his head to look at Kurogiri. "You mean I should give in?"

"Don't give in," Kurogiri corrected gently. "Listen. Sometimes leadership isn't about stubbornly imposing your own will, but about acknowledging the wisdom of others. Rain isn't your enemy. She is..."

"My comrade and... friend," Shigaraki interrupted, his voice quieter now, almost resigned. "Yes, I know that. But she... she makes it so damn hard for me."

"Because it challenges you," Kurogiri said with a hint of a smile in his voice. "And that's something you need."

Shigaraki sighed deeply and then stood up. "I'm going to her."

"That's a good decision," Kurogiri said as he watched Shigaraki walk toward the door. "Maybe... this time you'll talk less and listen more."

Shigaraki nodded briefly without turning around, then stepped out the door into the night to look for Rain. The street in front of him was silent and deserted. The lanterns cast a faint light on the cobblestones that disappeared into the darkness. Only occasionally a shadow would dart across the street, a stray hiding in the corners or a cat looking for food. The city seemed deserted, and the threatening rain clouds moving across the sky added to the oppressive atmosphere.

He paused for a moment, took a deep breath, and looked out over the street. The silence was almost deafening, except for the faint rustle of the wind blowing through the alleys. He could see Rain nowhere, no sign of her, only the loneliness echoing in the night. A low growl escaped his throat as he shoved his hands in his pockets and slowly walked down the street.

"If someone had told me that a relationship could be so stressful..." he muttered to himself, a hint of cynicism in his words. "I would never have agreed to it."

But now it was too late. She was more than just an ally, she was his friend, a part of him that he couldn't easily shake off even if he wanted to. The thought of losing her sent a wave of unease through him, a fear he wasn't used to.

He turned a corner and looked around the area, searching for a sign of her in the darkness. But the street was almost deserted, only the clatter of his footsteps echoed. The sky was now almost completely covered by heavy clouds and he knew it wouldn't be long before it started to rain.

Shigaraki slowed his steps as he noticed something on the ground. Right in front of him, in the dim light of the lanterns, lay a single feather. It was unmistakable, a black feather that shimmered deep red in the light. He knelt down, picked up the feather, and ran it through his finger. It was one of Rain's feathers, he knew that for sure.

But before he could think about it any further, something else caught his eye. Just inches from the feather, half hidden in the shadows, lay a small object. Shigaraki reached for it and picked it up. A syringe. Turning it over in his hand, he immediately recognized the packaging. A Quirk Suppressant. The label was half rubbed off, but he knew this guy all too well. It was the same substance the heroes occasionally used to temporarily incapacitate dangerous villains.

His eyes narrowed as he examined the syringe. Rain's feather along with that medicine? His heartbeat quickened, a dark premonition creeping into his consciousness. It was no coincidence that these things were here. He felt the anger growing inside him, his fingers tightening around the syringe, which instantly crumbled to dust.

He slowly stood up and looked down the street until he saw more feathers on the ground that looked like a trail. The realization hit him like a punch in the stomach: Rain might have been kidnapped. The thought that someone had laid a hand on her, that someone might have hurt her, made the anger inside him boil over.

With grim determination, he set off, following the trail of feathers. His steps quickened, and the possibility that Rain was in danger swirled in his mind. He had only one thought: to find her and destroy those who would harm her.

Suddenly, a shrill scream broke the silence of the night. "Let me go!" It was Rain, her voice full of desperation and anger. Without hesitation, Shigaraki ran, his heart racing in his chest as he followed the scream. 

As he rounded the next corner, he stopped short, his breath catching in his throat as he saw the shocking sight before him. Rain was lying on the ground, her wings spread and twitching, unable to unfold. Two men held her down, their hands pressing her mercilessly into the dirt while a third man knelt on top of her. This third man ripped the clothes from her body with rough, violent movements as Rain struggled desperately. Her eyes flashed with anger and panic, but it was obvious that her Quirk was suppressed, she was powerless.

Shigaraki recognized the men immediately. They were not ordinary thugs, but members of Overhaul's Yakuza. Their presence here was a clear sign that this was no coincidence. They were specifically after Rain. 

His hands clenched into fists so tightly that his fingernails dug into his palms. For a brief moment, a dizzying rage rose within him, clouding his thoughts like a storm. Without hesitation, he marched toward the group with long, determined strides, his hands beginning to shake, not from fear or nervousness, but from the urge to end their lives.

"Hands off her!" growled Shigaraki, his voice deep and threatening, like a predator seeing its prey for the first time. His hand, which he held out, was no longer shaking, but filled with absolute certainty.

The man kneeling on Rain was the first to notice Shigaraki and turned abruptly. With a quick, precise grip, Shigaraki placed his fingers on the man's face. He felt the skin begin to change beneath his fingers, the flesh beneath begin to dissolve as if it were crumbling under an invisible force. The man opened his mouth as if to scream, but no sound came out, only a silent scream as his body crumbled to dust beneath Shigaraki's touch. In a few seconds, nothing was left of him, just a small cloud of dust carried away by the light wind.

The other two men still holding Rain stared at Shigaraki, their faces twisted in pure fear. But before they could even react, Shigaraki turned to them. "Your turn," he said in a low, almost casual voice that dripped with deadly intent.

One of the two tried to let go of Rain and back away, but Shigaraki was faster. He grabbed the man by the arm and in a split second he too began to dissolve into nothing. The horrific sight caused the last man to crawl away in fear. 

Shigaraki drew himself up to his full height and stepped menacingly towards the last attacker. "Do you think you can escape from someone like me?" he asked quietly, the anger in his voice barely under control. He grabbed the man by the neck and with a final, merciless squeeze of his fingers, he too crumbled to dust and dissolved into the cool night air.

The street was quiet again, only the distant rumble of thunder heralded the approaching rain. Shigaraki stood still for a moment, his hands shaking slightly, not from exhaustion but from intense tension. His gaze fell on Rain, who was still lying on the ground, her breathing shallow and uneven, her eyes wide with shock and relief.

He knelt beside her, his hands now gentle, almost tender, as he carefully lifted her up. "It's over," he whispered, his anger now replaced by worry and care. "No one will ever hurt you again."

Rain, still under the influence of the drug, could only nod weakly. She clung to him, her body shaking slightly, but Shigaraki held her tightly, determined not to let go so easily.

"Shigaraki..." she whispered, her voice shaking as if she could barely comprehend what had just happened. It wasn't just the shock that left her speechless, but the fact that he had to save her, that had put her in such a situation.

"I'm here," he answered quietly, his voice calm but the fire of anger still burning in his eyes. Without hesitation, he slid one arm under her knees and the other around her back and lifted her gently but firmly into his arms. The contrast between the brutality he had just shown and the tenderness with which he now held her was almost surreal.

Rain leaned her head on his shoulder and slowly closed her eyes as she curled up in his arms like a wounded creature seeking protection. Shigaraki felt her body tremble slightly and held her tighter as if to protect her from all the evil in the world.

He carried her down the street, back to the bar. The rain began to fall in thick drops from the sky, the streets glittered in the dim light of the lanterns, but Shigaraki paid no attention. His only thought was to get Rain to safety.

When he reached the bar, he pushed the door open with his shoulder and stepped inside. The warm light and familiar sounds of the place greeted him, but the conversations immediately stopped when Twice, Himiko, and Kurogiri noticed him. Their eyes widened when they saw Rain in his arms, and their gazes jumped between her and Shigaraki, realizing that something bad must have happened.

"What the hell happened?" Twice asked, his voice a mixture of concern and disbelief. "Rain... is she hurt?"

"Shigaraki-sama..." Kurogiri began, but Shigaraki interrupted him with a sharp look.

"Not now," he growled, his eyes flashing with suppressed anger. "Get us something to drink and leave us alone."

Toga, who would normally have made a mocking remark in such moments, remained silent. Her gaze rested on Rain and a strange mixture of concern and quiet anger flashed across her face. She said nothing, but just nodded silently and disappeared behind the bar to get the drinks they had ordered.

Shigaraki walked with Rain in his arms to his usual spot, a large leather chair positioned so that he could see the entire bar. He sat down slowly, holding her tightly to him, as if he was afraid she might slip away if he let go.

Rain still clung to him, her breathing slowly calming down, but she said nothing. His closeness gave her a feeling of security that she desperately needed after what she had just experienced.

"You're safe," Shigaraki whispered, his voice softer now, almost tender. "I won't let anything like that happen to you again."

"It... it was Overhaul's men..." Rain's voice was weak when she finally spoke, her words faltering as she voiced the memory. "They wanted... I couldn't do anything..."

"I know," he answered calmly, but the anger still glowed in his eyes. "They're dead now. No one will ever do that to you again, you understand? No one."

Toga came back, wordlessly placing a glass of water on the table next to them, then stepped back as if to make sure she wasn't disturbing them. Twice was also reserved, seeming almost unnaturally quiet, betraying his usual split personality.

"Shigaraki-sama," Kurogiri ventured again, his voice calm but full of concern. "Should I secure the area? There could be more of Overhaul's men on the way."

Shigaraki looked up at him, his eyes flashing dangerously. "Yes, do that. And find out how they found us. That can't happen again."

Kurogiri nodded and disappeared into a dark vortex to carry out the order. Rain felt Shigaraki turn back to her and tighten his grip on her, as if he wanted to calm her down with his presence alone.

"Shigaraki..." Rain whispered again, this time her voice sounded a little stronger, but she was still shaking slightly. "I... I'm sorry I was so weak..."

"Weak?" His voice sounded almost surprised, then he shook his head slightly. "You're not weak, Rain. You were caught off guard, your quirk was suppressed, that's all. There's nothing to apologize for."

She closed her eyes and took in his words as she snuggled closer to him. "I should have... I should have been stronger," she murmured, her fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt.

"It doesn't matter," he answered softly, his lips almost touching her hair as he spoke. "You're here with me. That's all that matters."

The bar went quiet again, except for the gentle patter of rain, now hitting the windows harder. Shigaraki sat there, Rain tightly in his arms, while Himiko and Twice kept a respectful distance, their eyes full of silent concern and unspoken questions.

Twice sat in the corner of the bar, his face tense, his hands nervously kneading the back of his chair. He watched Shigaraki, who continued to hold Rain tightly in his arms, like a predator defending its prey. But there was more to his gaze, something soft that was rarely seen in Shigaraki's eyes. It was a mixture of concern, protectiveness, and uncontrollable anger that lurked like a seething mass just beneath the surface.

Twice couldn't take it anymore. The silence, the tension in the air and, above all, the image of Rain lying so vulnerable in Shigaraki's arms. "I... I'm just going..." he murmured, more to himself than to the others, as he stood up and hurried up the stairs to the rooms on the upper floor.

"Where are you going?" Toga asked quietly and followed him with his eyes as he disappeared, but he did not hear her.

Once upstairs, Twice searched through a closet and finally found what he was looking for - a thick, warm blanket. "This will help," he muttered to himself as he hurried back downstairs. "Rain needs this now, she's probably cold because of the wetness..."

He returned to the bar, his movements cautious, almost hesitant, as he approached Shigaraki and Rain, the blanket folded carefully over his arm and a look of concern and determination in his eyes.

"Here, Rain," he said quietly when he was close enough to her. "I thought this might help you feel a little better..."

He lifted the blanket, ready to gently wrap it around Rain, but at that moment, Shigaraki raised his head and stared at him. The look he gave him made Twice pause. It was a look as cutting as a knife. Sharp and piercing, as if he was ready at that moment to tear to pieces anyone who came too close to Rain, even if it was one of his own people.

Twice froze, his hands shaking slightly as he still held the blanket. "I just wanted to..." he began uncertainly, but Shigaraki didn't interrupt him, instead keeping his gaze fixed on him.

Rain sensed Shigaraki's tension, raised her head slightly and looked at Twice. Her eyes met his and she recognized the compassion and warmth in his gaze. "It's okay," she whispered softly, her voice weak but still reassuring. "He... he just wants to help."

Shigaraki took a deep breath, his eyes flickering briefly before he finally nodded slightly, a barely perceptible sign that he allowed it. He understood the gesture, the need to comfort Rain, to warm her, and he let Twice do that, even though he found it difficult to let anyone get so close to her.

"Thank you," Twice murmured as he carefully placed the blanket over Rain. He moved slowly so as not to startle her, making sure the blanket covered her completely so she could feel the warmth. "It'll do you good, Rain. You're safe here... with us."

Rain smiled weakly, her lips trembling slightly as she pulled the soft blanket around herself. "Thank you, Twice," she said quietly, her voice full of relief and gratitude.

Shigaraki watched the whole thing in silence, but when the blanket was wrapped around Rain, he immediately pulled her tightly against him again, as if to make sure that no one and nothing could take her away from him. His hand ran soothingly through her hair while he pressed her head to his chest and he felt her body gradually relax.

Twice took a step back, his gaze still fixed on Rain. "I... I'll go then..." he said quietly and looked at Shigaraki. "If you need anything else..."

"That's enough," Shigaraki replied curtly, his voice rough but not hostile. "Thank you, Twice."

Twice nodded quickly and retreated. He sat back down in the corner of the bar, his eyes still on the couple who now remained silent.

Rain breathed in and out slowly, her head resting safely on Shigaraki's chest while his arms held her tight. Nothing was more threatening to him at that moment than the thought that he could have lost her.

With a loud bang, the bar's door flew open and the violent storm raging outside burst in with an icy gust. Dabi, Spinner, and Mr. Compress entered, their clothes soaked and sticking to their bodies. Drops of water ran from Dabi's black coat to the floor while Spinner nervously removed the hood of his jacket. His scaly face was pale from the cold. Mr. Compress, on the other hand, shook off his top hat while removing the soaked mask from his face.

"Damn weather," Dabi grumbled, rubbing his hands as he crossed the room. "I hate it when it rains like this."

Spinner grimaced as he unzipped his soaked jacket and looked at the group in the bar with a pained expression. "We could have saved ourselves that."

Mr. Compress shook his mask to get rid of the water. "Well, at least we're back and can warm up," he said with humor, although he noticed his comrades' discontent. "And maybe we should put on some dry clothes..."

But when the three of them entered the bar, they immediately sensed that something was wrong. The atmosphere was depressing, almost oppressive, and those present looked worriedly at Shigaraki and Rain, who were still slumped in the large armchair.

Dabi's eyes narrowed as he quickly scanned the room. "What the hell...?" He noticed Rain's messy hair, the dark circles under her eyes, and the way Shigaraki held her protectively. The blanket hung loosely around her shoulders, but she was still shivering slightly.

"What's going on here?" Spinner asked, his voice filled with curiosity and growing concern. He stepped closer to the group, his eyes searching the faces of his comrades for an explanation.

Mr. Compress's expression lost its usual composure as he took in the scene. He took a step forward, his voice calm, almost gentle, as he asked, "Rain... are you... okay?"

Rain raised her head slightly, but could only nod weakly before pressing herself tightly against Shigaraki's chest again. She was both physically and emotionally exhausted and seemed at a loss for words.

"Where is Kurogiri?" Dabi suddenly asked, his gaze moving from Rain to Twice. "And what the hell happened?"

Twice looked directly at Dabi, his usual double meaning missing at this moment, instead there was only deep, serious concern in his voice. "Kurogiri is on his way to make sure there are no remnants of Overhaul's men left nearby. It... it was close."

Dabi growled quietly and clenched his hands into fists, trying to control the flood of emotions boiling up inside him. "Overhaul's men, you say? What did they do?"

"They dared to attack Rain," Shigaraki hissed, his voice ice cold. His eyes flashed dangerously and the air in the bar seemed to get even heavier for a moment. "They thought they could attack my Rain... but they miscalculated."

Dabi felt his own anger rising, mixed with an eerie sense of anticipation. "So none of those bastards are still alive, right?"

Shigaraki looked down at Rain briefly, his hand gently stroking her hair, before looking back at Dabi. "Yes."

"Good," Dabi said simply, the blue fire flickering on his hand as his resolve grew. "I hope you made her suffer slowly."

"Slowly enough," Shigaraki replied, pulling Rain even closer to him as if he wanted to erase the memory of what had happened. "But this isn't over yet. We're going to make Overhaul pay for this."

"What... can we do?" Mr. Compress asked carefully, his voice still cautious. "When Kurogiri comes back, we can talk and..."

"I need you here now," Shigaraki interrupted. "Secure the bar. We don't know if it was just those men or if there are more of them lurking nearby. No one is coming in here, understand?"

Dabi, Spinner and Mr. Compress nodded, their seriousness was now palpable. Each of them felt the deep bond in this group, the unwritten rule that none of them would be left alone when things got serious.

"We're ready," Dabi said firmly, walking back to the door with determined steps and watchful eyes. "And if any more of Overhaul's men show up here, I'll burn them to ashes before they have a chance."

Spinner and Mr. Compress followed, carrying their own worries and anger, and took up positions to protect the bar, determined to defend their comrades and friends, whatever the cost.

[sehtoast]

Caught (Homelander x OC Smut)

18+ | 4k words | masturbation, underwear sniffing, getting caught, mirrorlander, mirrorlander vs homelander, slight dubcon, dirty talk, fingering, pussy eating, p in v sex, premature ejaculation, spidersona oc | Fic Directory

He takes a deep breath, holds it, savors it, then releases it slowly.  

Delicious.

He’s been snooping again.  Well, it’s not like he ever stopped and, really, it’s not like he could even if he wanted to– which he doesn’t.  Benjamin’s room is rife with all sorts of little odds and ends that help satiate that desire to know more about the web-head.  Papers, books, trinkets, hobbies, clothes…

Especially the clothes.

He’s been in here before with Benjamin. Had to act like he didn’t already know the layout so intimately.  Like he hasn’t been breaking in regularly and browsing to his heart’s content.  Like he hasn’t been doing this.

He takes another deep breath.

Like he hasn’t been huffing Benjamin’s dirty laundry.

He holds it tight, letting his eyes flutter shut.

But not just any dirty laundry.  Clenched in his bare fist is a pair of black boxer briefs, wrinkled from sitting in the hamper.  He presses the crotch of them to his nose and inhales over and over again, memorizing the scent, the taste of his little spider.

He’s leaned back, half sat on the foot of the bed as he indulges with a hand around his weeping cock. He strokes himself slow, taking his time.  He imagines what he’d do with his face buried in Ben’s cunt, imagines the taste, the scent, the heat.  His tongue laves over the fabric and he moans brokenly.

Oh, he’s wanted this for some time now… Watching the bug, following him around. Basking in their shared moments. He imagines how easy it would be, too.  Just one kiss, hot and needy, would convey all he needs. What would it be like to have Ben’s hand in place of his own?  Those soft digits wrapped around his cock, pumping slowly and working him into deep breaths and needy moans– how would they feel?  Ben would whisper in his ear, sing his praises, tell him how good he is.  He fucking knows it.  Johnny, he’d say, why don’t you let go for me?

Oh, and he would.  He’d spill so quickly it’d be downright humiliating.

His mind clouds with so many fantasies that he can hardly pick one to be his undoing.  Ben’s lips around his cock, his pussy stretched deep, fucked within an inch of his life.  All the while, Homelander moans unabashedly into the fabric.

It’s so good, so fucking good–

“Johnny…”

That’s right, say my name! C’’mon, say it!  Say my fucking name!

He starts to fuck carelessly into his grip, fist pressing the fabric harder against his face.

Oh fuck, fuck yeah– little whore, mine, all mine…

And it feels so good, he can’t–

“Johnny?”

A raspy hum rattles from his chest, pinching off in a tight little moan as he spills his load, fucking his fist with languid rolls of his hips.

“Mm, fuck, Ben… God…”  He groans against the fabric.  He stands there in perfect bliss, eyes shut, warm and relaxed as he comes down from his high.  When he does finally open them again, he navigates the process of wiping his hand on his pants and getting himself zipped up.  He’s still dazed but, when he glances back up, he’s shocked clear into coherency and halts putting himself back together entirely. 

Wide eyes meet in stunned silence.

In the doorway stands Benjamin, jaw practically on the floor, gaze flitting from Homelander’s face to the underwear gripped tight in his left hand, then down to his cock.  The bug’s face burns a deep crimson as he connects the dots, but his eyes continue darting up and down. 

Homelander doesn’t know what to say, doesn't know what to do. He should’ve never let his guard down to indulge like this; he should’ve kept his eyes and ears open for Benjamin.  He fucked up.  He fucked up bad.  He’s probably single handedly ruined his relationship with not only the best friend he’s ever had, but with the man he’s developed more than just simple lust for.

“I–”  He tries, but his voice comes out strained.  “Uhm…”  He looks down, shame burning deep in his gut under Ben’s shocked gaze. 

“Wow…” Is all Benjamin says in response.  It scares Homelander to bits, not being able to read his tone.

And he just stands there, guilty as ever with those boxer briefs clutched in his grip, cock still hanging between his zipper.

“So, uh…” Ben starts again, shifting in place.  “How long you been doing this?”

Homelander doesn’t know how the fuck he’s supposed to answer.  How does he salvage this, how does he fix it?  He can’t just say this is the first time, that’d be too obvious–

“I–”

Fuck.  Fuck.  Now he has to say something, and quick.

Let me. Sings that devious voice in his head, all too eager to take the reins.  Homelander, all too relieved to let go and escape the shame, relents immediately.  The change happens in a flash.

“Benjamin,” he tuts with a cock of his head.  “What kind of question is that, hm?”

The bug bristles at the change in his demeanor– probably that sixth sense of his tattling on the shift.  From within the safe confines of his mind, Homelander practically begs:  Please, please be gentle with him.  He’s good to us, remember?

“Come here,” he demands, a finger pointed to his boot as if he meant to beckon a dog.  He watches with a sick, satisfied grin as Ben comes forward timidly, lips parted, hand all but outstretched to show no ill intent. 

The web-head has met this alter ego before. He knows exactly what this is.

He grips Benjamin by the wrist, tugging him damn near chest-to-chest.

“Attaboy,” he breathes directly into Ben’s ear.  The way he squirms sends a delicious shiver right to his cock.  “If you must know… I do it every… single… day.”

He can hear Ben gulp in response.  He feels the heat of the bug’s body, feels how rigid he is.  One overdramatic sniff of the air and he smirks down at the web-head.

“Smells like you’re cookin’ up my next pair, aren’t you?  Getting ‘em good and wet for me…”  His lips spread into the most devious smile possible, parting only to lick a stripe over Benjamin’s cheekbone.  He doesn’t know what he loves more: the fact he doesn’t resist, or that Ben fucking reached out to grip his arm when he did it.  That he needed to steady himself was a delicious thought.

John watches from behind his own eyes, mystified, but also saddened. It should be him in control, it should be him teasing his Benjamin like this.

“Answer me, bug boy.”

“I–” Ben starts, but his voice breaks from nervousness.

“I knew it.”  Homelander teases, leaning in close to murmur in his ear.  “Y’know, I’d love a fresh taste… And you’d love to give it to me, wouldn’t you?”

Ben gulps audibly, squeezing tighter around Homelander’s arm which, of course, makes that smile grow all the more devilish.

“Tell me right now you don’t want to lay back and let me eat your pussy until all you can possibly do is scream my name.”  He murmurs, a hand coming up and tugging Ben’s head back to reveal his neck.  Homelander peppers a kiss or two before scraping his teeth along the side he’s always imagined would be most sensitive.

His satisfaction at Benjamin’s weak gasp is unmeasurable.  His cock twitches and he presses it against the bug’s hip. He could take this boy apart so easily…

“Imagine it… my tongue running between your pretty little pussy lips.  You, writhing and moaning like a little whore for me.  Creaming around my fingers because you just can’t help yourself…”  Homelander chuckles darkly, rubbing his cock against Ben more brazenly now.  “You taste sooo sweet on your clothes. C’mon, Benny… Give us a taste.”

He reaches down to grab himself and tucks his cock between Ben’s thighs.  With slow, calculated thrusts, Homelander mimes the act of fucking him.

“When I’m done, I’ll give you what you want.”

The panting breaths from the wall-crawler are so enticing he can hardly help himself when he swallows those soft little noises with a kiss, tongue delving between Ben’s lips without hesitation.  “You want this…” He purrs between unreciprocated kisses.  “You want me.”

“I–” Ben starts, pausing when a finger hooks under the waistband of his pants.  

“Mm, say it.”  Homelander orders in a whisper.  He starts to snake his hand inside.  “Say how much you want me, how badly you want me to taste you– fuck you…”

Benjamin goes to speak once more, but sucks a sharp breath instead when a finger swipes between his soaked folds.  It drags back and forth, pressing against his hole, dipping inside just the slightest bit before trailing to his clit.

“Drenched,”  Homelander all but moans.  “Fucking knew you would be…”  He draws his hand free and brings it to his lips, tracing slick over them before slipping inside.  “Delicious… I knew you fucking wanted me.”

“Johnny…” Ben murmurs.  

Homelander practically doesn’t even hear it.

“I want Johnny.” He repeats, this time a little more brave despite how much anxiety dances in his words. This was volatility personified. 

Homelander looks at him with a flicker of ire, as though he’s ready to discipline him.  Throw him over his knee for a good spanking, fuck him senseless– something or the other.  Whichever one scratches the itch and accomplishes the task all at once.

“And why the fuck would you want him instead of me?”  He asks, bitterness lacing his words.  He spins them and traps Benjamin against the bed.

This is how it went last time.  Though last time was incredibly different, significantly more violent, and a lot less sexually charged, Benjamin needed only to ask and, somehow, John would find himself with enough strength to come back to the surface.  He can practically feel the resistance brewing.

Let me out.

Absolutely not.

Let me the fuck out!

“I want Johnny.” Ben repeats again, firm with every word.  In all fairness, Ben would absolutely have a round with this version of Homelander.  Just… not right now.  Not before John.  A snarl precedes that hand diving back into his pants, fingers delving deep into his cunt.  Benjamin can hardly stop the gasping moan that comes out.  It’s hard to resist it, hard to pretend he doesn’t actually want this.

But this isn’t who he wants it with.  Johnny would come first, always.

“Sing for me, little birdie.” Homelander commands, fucking his digits in and out, fingers curled perfectly.  His face twists as if he’s struggling to keep control. “You’re soaked for me. You’re like this because of me!  Not him!”

Ben’s whines are music to his ears even as he fights to keep from losing his hold.

I’m in control here!  Me!  You let me out right fucking now! He wants me!

Suddenly Homelander is shaking his head violently, expression pinched, teeth bared and grinding– and then he’s not.  His fingers still, his expression softens, eyes widen like a deer in headlights.

Still knuckle deep, Homelander freezes.

“Johnny..?”  Ben asks, though he’s already confident the switch had happened.  Despite the intrusion between his legs, the moment is significantly less tense than with the previous presence.  “I–”

“You want… me?”  

His voice is nearly a whisper, a touch of timidness in his tone.

“Yeah,” Ben nods, eyes shutting.  He leans in to press their foreheads together.  “I didn’t think it’d happen like this, y’know, but… yeah.”

Homelander lurches forward in an embarrassingly desperate manner, taking Ben in a kiss that he certainly didn’t mean to moan into.  Just like he doesn’t mean to melt when he feels reciprocation, he just does.

He can hardly wrap his mind around any of it. Ben’s lips, so soft and sweet against his.  The sweet boy’s cunt fluttering all hot and wet around his middle and ring fingers.  He could come undone just from what he’d been dropped into.  He sighs and starts moving his fingers, slow at first, soft.  

Just enough to milk the most beautiful noise he’s ever heard from his Benjamin.  It’s enough to make him whine and press his stiff cock right against Ben’s thigh– but only for a moment.  Long enough for his desperation and revived confidence to grow into a hunger unlike anything he’s ever known.  Suddenly he’s lifting Ben to lay flat on the bed, legs hanging off the edge, and he’s got the bug’s pants torn free and–

The first lick to his core isn’t even full contact.  He suckles the wet spot of Ben’s underwear, lips wrapped tight to get every last bit.  He mewls for it, face pressing between his little spider’s thighs to tease that first truly fresh taste of his greatest longing– like he means to drown in it.  The hands in his hair satisfy every dream he’s ever had of such a moment, tugging and gripping like Benjamin would die if he didn’t.

“Oh god…” The bug whimpers, hips bucking.  It’s all the motivation Homelander needs to deny himself just long enough to yank those boxer briefs away and reveal his meal.  He dives in completely undignified, moans muffling as he presses the whole of his open mouth to Ben’s cunt, tongue delving as deep into his hole as physically possible.  He’d trade his powers for a longer tongue right fucking now if it meant he could reach further inside– if he could collect more of that sweet nectar on his tongue and feed the starving beast inside of him that demanded so much more.

He suckles and flicks Ben’s clit, practically hypnotized at his size and thickness.  It’s so easy to get it into his mouth– so easy to suck and hold and–

The bed creaks with a particularly sharp unconscious thrust of his hips at the realization.  It’s like having a cock in his mouth.

He keeps Ben’s legs spread high and wide.  The quakes of them in his iron grip shoot straight to his ego and cock, making his eyes roll and heat all at once.

“Johnny– Oh, fuck, fuck, please–”

That’s right!  Say it!  Say my fucking name!

As if reading his mind, Benjamin does.  He howls and shivers and shakes through an orgasm that leaves him gushing slick against Homelander’s eager tongue. Homelander’s head is pressed down hard by the hands in his hair– silent pleas for more and more.

He’s so thrilled with himself that he couldn’t possibly prevent the moan that reverberates against Benjamin’s throbbing clit.  It practically jerks in his mouth.

“Oh god!”

I am your god.

And he just can’t bring himself to stop.  Can’t help but act out every single scenario he’s ever dreamed up while pressing stolen clothing to his nose and fucking his hand.  It’s going to pale in comparison when he finally slips into Ben’s cunt– he fucking knows it.  He’ll never be able to go back to something so dull when he’s tasted heaven and touched the stars.

He’s damn near ready to dive in for more when the hands in his hair yank good and hard, pulling him up.  He’s still clothed except for his cock free between his zipper, now harder than he's ever been in his life.  He has half a mind to just shove it in and fuck Ben before the boy could strip him down, but that option is long gone when a kiss distracts him long enough for zippers and clasps to get undone.

Pussy. 

Shut the fuck up! 

He neglects his alter ego’s taunts in favor of reveling in touches to his bare chest.  It’s enough to leave goosebumps and make him shiver.  He hardly knows what to do when Ben strips him the rest of the way, much less when a hand finally wraps around his cock.  The gasp that left him was less than pathetic, but it doesn’t deter the touches and soft kisses pressed to his neck.

“You’re amazing,” Ben murmurs against his flesh, breath fanning wet spots and making him twitch like some sort of virgin.  His eyes flutter open and catch a smile so genuine it melts his heart.  Each stroke along his length makes his chest heave with deep, unsteady breaths– every swipe of Ben's thumb to his soaked tip drives him near insanity.   He’s so pent up, even after getting off earlier.  He could blow at any second– god, what if it’s disappointing?  What if he ruins it because he’s too fucking weak to hold back?  

He’s thought of this so many fucking times that he practically has no control whatsoever.  But he never thought it’d feel so– 

So–

Something overtakes him, desperate beyond measure, utterly starved, and he rolls them.  Much as he’d love to drag it out, he’s on the brink and he’s not going to come until–

“O-ooh fffuuuck!” 

No sooner than his tip breeches Benjamin’s cunt is he blowing his load and–

Pathetic.

“Mm– oh, fuck– I’m sorry–”

At least I’d have actually gotten to fuck him.

“Oh god, I'm sorry, I'm sorry–” 

One pump chump, huh? 

He buries his face against Ben's neck to hide as pleasure and shame mix like oil and water in his gut. His body is locked tight, hips jerking despite having slipped out in the midst of an exceptionally pathetic, desperate thrust. 

You ruin everything you touch. 

It’s only when he’s nudged out of his hiding spot that he realizes he’s still whispering apologies.

“Hey, what’s– are you okay?”  Ben asks, concern replacing the bliss once etched so beautifully on his face.

Your fault. 

“I…” Homelander starts, shaking his head when the words get stuck in his throat.  “I didn’t mean to… finish so early…”

Ben’s hands cup his cheeks and cradle him, thumbs rubbing at his cheeks.  “I don’t mind.”  He says.  “We can stop if you’re–”

“No!” He interrupts.  “No, we– I can be ready again, I just–”

His face is burning red; he knows it.

“Shh, Johnny.  Don’t stress.  Just…”  Ben pulls him down into a kiss, soft and slow.  “Just kiss me for a bit, okay?”

Despite his racing heart and his mental roommate jabbing at his pride, he goes along.  It starts easy, simple pecks and gentle glides of lips.  A pace perfect to diminish his anxiety, an act sweet enough to dispel the shame.  Simple touches meant to soothe, others meant to ground.

He pulls back and looks at Benjamin for a moment, appreciating his kiss-swollen lips and hazy eyes before going right back in with more fervor.  Legs wrap around his waist and pull him into a grinding motion, milking a breathy moan directly into the kiss.

“That’s it…” Ben purrs between kisses.  

His tongue joins the fray, eyes rolling back as the taste and sensations hit his mind all at once.

He’s hard again in no time, especially with those little words of praise in between.  He stills when a hand slips between their bodies and grasps his cock, directing his tip to swipe between come-slicked folds still drenched for him.

Benjamin lines him up perfectly and he sinks in without thought.  A strangled moan catches in his throat as he’s practically sucked in by that tight heat.  Ben’s noises drive him insane– little gasps and whines as he adjusts, comments about how thick he is and oh– 

His arms wrap under Ben’s back to pull him impossibly closer.  He starts slow, steady and gentle just like Ben had been with him.  

Good.  Now ruin him.

He fights to keep his controlled pace, fights to be a perfect gentleman and not shatter this sweet boy.

“Johnny~”

And it’s so fucking hard not to.

His face is buried in Benjamin’s neck again and he picks up the pace, settling into a sloppy rut like an animal in heat– but god that’s exactly what he is.  Desperate and instinctive, he drives himself into Ben over and over again, chasing that high, knowing each deep stroke is what pulls those sweet little whimpers from his precious Benjamin and by god he’ll do it again and again–

“Harder!”  Gasps his little spider, and he’s all too happy to oblige.  His back arches, arms brace, and he cuts loose. His mind snaps– all there is anymore is this.  A lifetime of them and nothing else.  It couldn’t possibly be anything else.

Breathy exclamations turn to noisy moans, all of them sung into the air for him in tandem with squelches and wet slaps of skin.

Hear how he sings for you?  That’s it, keep going.  Hand under his lower back– good.  Help him arch into it.  Attaboy.

Homelander nods in the crook of Ben’s neck, tongue falling free to lick a stripe into which he fully intends to leave his mark.

Feel how he quakes under you?  Bite him.  Claim him.

His teeth sink in, just enough not to break the skin but he will mark this sweet boy as his.

He’s yours now, tiger.

“G-Gonna come! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”  Ben exclaims under him, nails biting into Homelander’s back as he holds on for dear life.  “Oh god– oh fuck!”

Make sure he never wants anyone else.  Thumb on his clit, right now– rub hard.

Homelander does exactly that and with only one flick, he sends Benjamin mewling into an orgasm so strong his entire body convulses– perfectly milking another load from his cock.

They cling to each other for dear life, both hurtling through climaxes so intense they can do nothing more than gasp and whine and pray the other won’t let go.

It takes a few minutes for either to speak, but fingers run through Homelander’s hair and a hand smooths up and down his back until they do.  Comforting, caring– 

“Do you wanna stay?”

Not the question he was expecting. Not at all– and not something he’s ever been asked before by anyone.  He hates knowing his eyes are watering when he looks up, but they do and he can’t make them stop.  “D’you want me to?”  

Stupid.  Stupid voice crack, stupid– 

Shut up and listen.

“Duh,” Ben says, hands coming up to pinch at his cheeks.  “I always want you to stay.”

“You’re not… mad at me?”

This isn’t what he was expecting at all.

“Why would I be?”  Ben asks.

He’s about to explain the obvious, but–

“I mean I wish we could’ve skipped the whole fiending-for-my-underwear thing and gotten straight into this, but I’m not mad.  And I’m not mad about your brain bestie making an appearance either.” Ben smooths a hand through Homelander’s hair, scritching softly at the base of his neck.  “It’s all good.”

I've got dibs on the next time. 

“Mm, thank god.” John yawns.  It’s all he knows to say, except– “So are we uh… a thing now?”

You sound like a fucking teenager.

What, you have a better idea of how to ask him?

“D’you wanna be?” Ben asks, a beaming smile spreading across his face.  It must be contagious, because Homelander ends up with the same look.

“Yeah…” He breaths, chewing his lower lip to keep from looking any more dopey than he already does.  “Yeah, let’s– I want that.”

“Good,” Ben says, hooking a leg around him.  “So, uh… Boyfriend perks include unlimited underwear access.”  His cheeks tinge a deep red as he says it, but that just makes Homelander’s lips curl into a devious smirk.  “Among other things, y’know?”

“I can’t wait to find out,” John says.  All this time as just friends has been nothing short of  euphoric… 

Whatever is next for them must be bliss itself.

[bananadrinkxxx]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐬𝐲𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐞𝐲𝐞 (6)

[Aemond Targaryen x female Lucerys Velaryon • fem! oc!reader]

[warnings: sex content, fights, harassment, angst, smut, domination, violence, targcest (uncle/niece)]

Only for 18+

[description: Boarding School - Modern Setting. Lucerya avoided her uncle for years but Aemond remembers and he is on his mission to make her life a living hell.]

Masterlist for all available parts (click here)

Aemond first saw his mother's angry eyes before his gaze moved on to Lord Corlys, who only signaled him with his head to sit down. 

Aemond took the free chair next to Alys, who looked at him in surprise. She reached for his hand, but he was quicker and avoided her touch. He couldn't even stand the sight of her, how could he stand her touch. He saw her eyes widen out of the corner of his eye, but all he felt was disgust. She had never meant anything to him, for him only the physical thing had mattered, but now he didn't even want that from her.

"Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Rivers, for appearing so quickly," Corlys thanked him, and Mrs. Rivers nodded.

"What happened? Your secretary said it was urgent, but she wouldn't tell us exactly what it was about over the phone."

Corlys clasped her hands together. "We have a serious issue to discuss." He looked to Aemond.

 "Our school has a zero tolerance policy toward bullying, and yet it has come to my attention that one of our students, within the walls, under my supervision, has had this very thing happen to her."

Aemond heard Alys inhale sharply. He looked forward to the next few minutes. He had no idea why he was here, but perhaps the gods just wanted him to witness their demise.

"Aemond was only protecting his sister," she said suddenly, placing her hand on his knee. He turned to her, looking at her stunned, while Alys misinterpreted his facial expression and felt confirmed in her mission to spread more lies. "Helaena has been bullied by Lucerya Velaryon for weeks and he has only defended her. You can't punish him for doing the right thing."

Lord Corlys raised an eyebrow and leaned forward slightly. "Miss Rivers, what do you think is the reason you're here?"

Alys looked at him in surprise. "As a witness?" She looked to Aemond as he removed her hand from his knee.

Alicent snorted snidely. "Unbelievable," she spat with hatred, leaning back in her chair as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. "The acting talent of your students is truly remarkable, Corlys. It seems to me they put more emphasis on drama lessons here than the safety of your students."

"Excuse me?" interjected Mrs. Rivers indignantly, straightening up. "Alicent, you-"

"That's Mrs. Targaryen to you, Mrs. Rivers," his mother retorted hostilely. "Your daughter has been bullying my daughter for weeks. I don't know what went wrong in your upbringing, but in my family we don't bully weaker ones."

"Aemond, please. Don't leave me here alone... Aemond."

Aemond closed his eye for a brief moment as Lucy Velaryon's face appeared in his mind, tearful and distraught. He clenched his hand into a fist, disgusted with himself.

"Bullying?," Mrs. Rivers almost shrieked, looking to her daughter, who stared at the floor, stunned. "You're bullying others?" Alys shook her head, but her silence was answer enough. She didn't even bother to lie. The first tears appeared in her eyes.

"Alys, I'm sure you know the school rules, even if you don't seem to understand the moral rules of our society. Your behavior has consequences, and I want you to understand that you have caused great harm to Helaena. I have therefore decided to suspend you for two months."

Alys looked up in panic. "But in two and a half months are the mid-year exams. They're crucial for our college applications. You can't suspend me, I need the classes."

Alicent made a deprecating sound. "You probably should have thought about that before. You didn't care if my daughter could prepare for the exams either. I would have loved to have had you kicked out of school."

Corly's look was clear and his mother reluctantly remained silent.

"Your punishment was lessened just by the fact that Helaena asked me to give you a second chance. However, I can't let you go without a punishment, which is why I think the suspension is more than appropriate."

Alys was trembling and suddenly pale. Aemond heard her swallow. She looked to Aemond, but when she met his hateful gaze, she flinched and slumped in her chair like a heap of misery. She suddenly seemed so small, so pathetic. Just like her character.

"We apologize for our daughter's behavior," Mr. Rivers said, giving his daughter a reproving look. "Should it be true," he added quickly. "But at the moment, it is testimony against testimony. Is there a witness to such allegations?"

"Indeed, there is a witness," Corlys said, presenting documents to him. "Lucerya Velaryon unfortunately cannot attend this meeting, but she described an incident to me in a private conversation. As a result, I had Aly's friends come to me and they all confirmed that the accusations were legitimate. Here are their testimonies."

At the mention of Lucy, Aemond had to gulp. Corlys was definitely referring to the incident where Alys had turned him against his niece, even though she had been the one making her life hell. He looked at Alys' devastated face. She didn't know yet that this suspension was the best thing that could happen to her. As soon as she came back, she would beg him to show mercy. He would destroy her.

"Then, of course, we accept the punishment," Mrs. Rivers replied dejectedly as she held the sheets in her hand. "We will take our daughter with us to Harrenhal today."

"That would be the best," Corlys confirmed.

Alys parents stood up and Alys wanted to follow them before Aemond grabbed her and pulled her close to him. He pressed her petite body against his and pushed her head against him. With his mouth, he slid to her ear. "Pray I never meet you alone," Aemond threatened her softly. He felt her tense. "You are dead to me." Her whole body stiffened in his embrace. He had spoken as softly as he could so that no one but Alys understood him. He released their embrace and pushed her away from him. Alys looked at him fearfully before quickly turning around to put as much distance between them as quickly as she could.

When the Rivers were gone, his mother addressed Lord Corlys one last time.

"I hope we never have to repeat such a conversation again, Corlys," she spoke icily, not hiding her lack of sympathy for the man. Corlys nodded with a smile, it seemed forced, but he preferred to remain silent. A clever man, Aemond thought. His mother seemed to have expected nothing less.

"Come, Aemond," she commanded, and Aemond followed her instruction, but a clearing of the throat held them both back.

"I would like to speak with Aemond in private, Alicent."

His mother looked at Corlys Velaryon with a raised eyebrow.

"What for?"

"I would prefer to discuss this with him alone."

"Do you have to?"

"I'm afraid so."

Alicent looked at him critically before her gaze wandered to Aemond, who only raised his shoulders. No idea what else the old man wanted from him.

"I'm with Helaena, she wants to go back to school here," she began, addressing Aemond. "Come to us after your talk."

Aemond nodded and watched his mother storm out of the office without saying goodbye to Corlys. Neither had ever tried to hide the fact that they disliked each other.

Corlys signaled for him to sit down.

"Miss Rivers said something interesting earlier," Corlys began. "Basically, she confirmed a suspicion I've had for a long time, and which has been brought to my attention several times now by various students. The only one who has been consistently silent on the subject is my granddaughter."

Aemond had a small premonition of what was about to come. Corlys walked around his desk. He stopped in front of Aemond and sat down with one leg on the desk. He looked down at him, and Aemond realized what he was doing to him.

He was making him feel small.

"I want to be frank with you, Aemond. I'm afraid you wouldn't understand otherwise. If it ever comes to my attention again that you are bullying Lucy in any way, I will expel you from this school. And then not even your father can save you, understand?"

Neither of them averted their eyes. It was a struggle of power, though it was clear who had the higher leverage.

"Understood."

Corlys smiled. "Very good. I'm glad to hear that. You can go now."

. . . . .

Baela stared at her cousin, who had been lying in her bed for two days, leaving it only to go to the bathroom. She had left Lucy alone, sensing that something had happened, but she hadn't spoken a word since returning to the bedchamber in the middle of the night two days ago. She had looked like a ghost, mascara spread over her face and eyes teary and puffy.

The only time she had spoken was when Alicent, Aemond's mother, and Lord Corlys had joined her in the room after Lucy had called in sick. Baela had tried to eavesdrop, but she had only understood bits and pieces. Too little to make sense of it all, but she was smart enough to understand that it must have something to do with Aemond. Even though Lucy didn't say a word, Aemond's sudden announcement to leave Lucy alone again from now on was almost proof enough.

But that was not enough. She did not want Aemond to get away without consequences. Rhaena had tried to talk to Lucy, to convince her to go to Lord Corlys, but she had not succeeded, so her twin sister had gone to her grandfather herself. But even that was not enough for Baela. She looked to Jacaerys, who was standing at the pool table with his friends, laughing as if all was well with the world. Well, it was for him. He was a grade above them, and the bullying against his sister had apparently passed him by completely. Even though the whole school was involved, the upper years had just watched while the younger ones did what they always did. Obey Aemond Targaryen. The only ones who could say anything against Aemond were his brother Aegon and Jacaerys.

"Jacaerys," Baela said when she arrived at the pool table. The boys looked at her in surprise, as if they had completely tuned out the world around them.

"Baela," Jacaerys replied in surprise, smiling. "Do you feel like playing along? The boys might-"

"We need to talk."

Jacaerys's smile vanished at the seriousness of her voice. His eyes roamed her face inquiringly, and he understood. Baela gave his friends a look that made it clear this conversation was not for their ears. They looked to Jacaerys, who nodded at them promptly.

When the boys were gone, Jacaerys turned to her.

"What's this about?"

. . . . .

Jacaery's fist crashed into Aemond's cheekbone without warning. Aemond stumbled back from the blow, but still managed to stay on his feet. The crowd around them filled up and suddenly they were surrounded by several classmates who were watching them in a curious manner.

Aemond looked angrily at Jacaerys and wiped his lip. Blood was visible on the back of his hand.

"You'd better not do that again," Aemond warned, and everyone stared at Jace, who only made a snide noise.

"This is for Lucy. I heard what you did," Jacaerys approached. "Turn your classmates against her? You're lucky I'm letting you live."

He saw something flit across Aemond's face. A realization, guilt, and something else, but he didn't particularly care. That bastard had hurt, humiliated and bullied his little sister and he had been too absorbed in his own world that he hadn't noticed how Lucy was suffering. But that was the end of it now. He would protect her from now on. Of course he never missed an opportunity to tease her, but this was different. He would never want to hurt her seriously, but Aemond had always had it in for Lucy. He felt sick when he thought about what Baela had told him.

"Jace," Baela called out warningly, but by then it had happened. Aemond shoved Jacaerys so hard that he stumbled backward and flew over his own feet. He landed on the ground with a loud thud, and Aemond snorted disparagingly at the ease with which he had brought his nephew down.

"You asshole," Baela yelled, but was held back by Aegon. Baela swung at him, but as usual, Aegon made fun of such things.

Humiliated, Jacaerys jumped up to face his uncle. He lunged, but Aemond intercepted his blow and held his wrist tightly. With his other arm he lunged wide, his hand clenched into his fist, and for a brief moment Jacaerys remembered back to when Lucy had slid the kitchen knife across his face. It had been a harmless argument that had escalated, stopped only when Lucy had taken her uncle's eye. He would never forget Aemond's screams. Just as he would never forget Lucy's stunned, frightened look as she looked pleadingly to Jacaerys, hoping to undo what she had done.

Aemond's fist raced toward his face, he braced himself for the pain, but then suddenly brown hair appeared before his eyes. He knew immediately who had placed himself in front of him. Aemond's fist stopped just before her face and he saw the bewilderment on his face.

"Are you crazy?" asked Aemond, addressing Lucy.

"What are you doing, Lucy? Get out of here," hissed Jacaerys, but Lucy ignored him.

"Listen to your brother," Aemond said low, his fist still in the air. Jacaerys grabbed Lucy by the shoulder, but she tore away from him. She stepped closer to Aemond, standing inches away from him.

"I'm right here, Uncle," Lucy dared him. Her voice was strong, no weakness in it. "The object of your ire, the reason you lost your eye. If you wish to get your revenge, you have to get rid of me. So do it. And be done of all this bother."

Aemond stared at Lucy. For a moment, the world stood still. All eyes were on the two of them. No one saying a word. Lucy stood there, like a warrior, they say, not backing down an inch. Jacaerys was impressed with his sister at that moment.

He had come to save her, to defend her but now she was standing there to save him.

Aemond was silent. He didn't say a word, the only thing he did was stare at Lucy. Then he snorted and turned around. The crowd parted to make way, from the king of the school who had just been put in his place by a woman.

"That was dangerous, Lucy, are you insane?"

But no response. His sister ignored him and stared after Aemond. Even when he was long gone from sight.

. . . . .

"Exercise improves blood flow to the muscle, reduces the likelihood of hardening of the arteries and thus the risk of a heart attack later in life. In addition, blood pressure, blood sugar and blood fat levels are regulated. But that's not all: exercise also strengthens muscles, tendons, bones, joints and ligaments."

At the word sport, Lucy had already switched off in her mind. Neither did she do sports, nor did she want to hear about them. Vaemond Velaryon, her gym teacher, didn't like her anyway, and pretending to be excited about his classes would be as much of a waste of time as pretending it could. There was probably no one more unathletic than she was.

"People who exercise in the fresh air are more balanced and happier. Just 5 minutes of sporting activity in the fresh air is enough to significantly improve your mood. That's because people who exercise outdoors in nature produce more of the body's hormones, such as dopamine, serotonin and norepinephrine."

Could someone stop this torture? Lucy looked at her cousin Baela, who rolled her eyes in annoyance. Rhaena, on the other hand, looked at her great-uncle with shining eyes, as if he were the Messiah. She was sure that Aunt Laena had dropped her from the changing table when she was a child.

"And so now I want you to run five laps around this forest," Vaemond explained, and a groan went through the row of students. This man had invented torture. Five laps ? Healthful, my ass. It was like a funeral. Where was the mass grave ?

She looked at Jacaerys, who, as always, was happy about any sporting activity. Lucy pursed her mouth. Her brother was embarrassing. A disgrace to this family. Due to lack of teachers, they assigned her year and Jacaerys' together in sports.

"You are allowed three breaks, five minutes each. The breaks are taken when you have finished one round each. Anyone who does more you will be disqualified."

She hoped he would be disqualified as a teacher. Only 5 minutes break at a time? She would gasp after the first minute. Could someone take this maniac back to the psych ward? The man was born for torture.

"I just hope I don't break a fingernail," she heard Alys' friend say behind her, and she just rolled her eyes. Since Alys had been suspended from school, they'd been running around like helpless sheep, looking for someone to fill the spot Alys had left behind.

Lucy had to admit that she had felt schadenfreude when Baela had told her that Alys would be absent from school for two months. She would have liked to see her go for good, but Alys' uncle Larys Strong was a close friend of Alicent. She was sure he had his fingers in the pie. Lucy wondered if he would do the same for her. Harwin was her father, there was no doubt about that, Larys' older brother, but she had never been able to form a familial bond with him.

"She's even dumber than she looks," Rhaena whispered, and Lucy grinned. Alys and her friends had a lot in common. Their dopiness was one of them.

"Are you really okay?" asked Rhaena suddenly, and Lucy looked at her in surprise. "You didn't get out of bed for days and all of a sudden you're back and it's like nothing happened." She reached for her hand and squeezed it gently. Rhaena had always been the more empathetic of the two twins. While Baela was tough and rebellious, Rhaena was gentle and quiet in nature.

"I feel better," Lucy lied, forcing a smile. What Aemond had done to her had taken a toll on her and she still had nightmares about it in parts, but she wasn't one to give up on herself. Her classmates left her alone and Lucy hoped that was the end of her argument with Aemond.

She looked to her uncle, who stood annoyed in the corner, Aegon beside him, banging his head wearily against the wall behind him. Lucy had to grin at the sight. Aegon was doing what they all wanted to do. Then suddenly Aemond turned his head in her direction and the smile froze on Lucy's face. It was as if he was looking deep into her soul when their eyes met. He was watching her, and Lucy could do nothing but avoid his engaging gaze. Goosebumps ran over her body. Since the incident, her relationship with Aemond was different. She felt more fear in his presence. More reticence. The urge to just crawl into a hole and not come out. He had proven to her that he was the more powerful of the two of them and that she stood no chance against him. She didn't want his attention. She didn't want anything from him.

"Really?" asked Rhaena as she turned her gaze to. Lucy forced herself to smile again and just nodded. Then she followed her classmates and prepared to die of respiratory distress. She would not survive this torture Vaemond Velaryon had devised (the man was evil to the core).

Vaemond whistled into his whistle and the students began to jog, groaning.

"Jogging, not stumble, Lucy," Vaemond shouted, and she wished him the worst diarrhea of his life.

As she jogged. And cursed every moment she chose to rejoin the class. Apparently she wasn't the brightest candle on the cake, otherwise it would have occurred to her to skip gym class.

It was relatively cold outside and it was the last class of the day. Most of them passed Lucy and Jacaerys gave her a deprecating look as he passed her for the second time. Maybe she should tell the story of how he had peed himself after his first horror movie after all.

It did not take long until Lucy was the last. Even Aegon was faster and he did nothing but drink, eat and smoke. She was definitely disgracing her mother, but if she remembered correctly, she had never asked to participate in gym class. A burden that had been imposed on her. Who wanted to volunteer for gym?

Lucy stopped, panting for breath, when she got the first side stitch. She gasped for air like a fish at the surface and looked around. There was no one to be seen far and wide. Rhine theoritically, then no one would notice if she took a shortcut, would they? Lucy looked back again and judged her plan to be good enough to implement. She walked to the edge of the path. She would only have to climb a short distance and then run straight out. In an inconspicuous minute she would blend in with the people.

She grabbed a branch and tried to get a secure foothold with her foot. Below her was a mud pit, a giant big puddle from which there was no escape. She would have to be careful. She gripped the branch tighter. It was a bit tiring but it would work. She tried to grab the second branch. She would just have to-

"Whatever you're trying, it won't work," a voice suddenly said behind her, and Lucy turned around, startled. Aemond stood behind her with his arms folded in front of his chest, watching her with one eyebrow raised. Lucy's hand reached out into space and before she could react, the lack of footing caused her to fall and land with a loud splash in the biggest mud puddle the gods could think up. The mud splashed everywhere and the word mud bath took on a new meaning. She was completely wet from top to bottom.

She looked up, stunned, at Aemond, who was looking at her innocently.

"That's unfortunate."

Regrettable would only be his death if she put her hands around his neck.

"Don't look at me like that, it's not my fault."

"Of course it's your fault. You were distracting me. I had everything under control."

"It didn't look that way."

"Well, it was."

"If you say so."

"Oh just fuck off," Lucy yelled angrily and stood up. The mud was slippery and when she grabbed a tree root, she slipped again and flew back into the mud.

"Sure you don't need help?" asked Aemond innocently.

"Most definitely I don't need your help. Get someone who wouldn't let me die here."

"Hmmm, don't feel like it."

Lucy looked at him, stunned. "Excuse me?"

"No desire. I'm exhausted. Jogging is exhausting."

"You're not even sweating yet."

"Maybe so, but my legs hurt. I'm tired. Just call for help, or..." he stopped and knelt down. He looked down at her with a smile. "Or just ask me for help."

Aemond grinned smugly. He was actually serious. Lucy snorted.

"No way."

"It's just a short little sentence, little Lucy. Aemond, please help me. Give it a try. It does wonders."

"I'd rather drown in here."

Aemond's grin disappeared. He braced his hands on his knees and jumped up.

"Well, have fun. I'll run back now, maybe you'll get lucky and someone will find you by sundown."

Aemond turned and Lucy's eyes widened in shock as he disappeared from her sight. He was really going to leave and leave her here? She shrieked. "Aemond, please stay here," she screamed in panic. "Please help me." How humiliating.

For a moment she thought Aemond had really left her behind, wouldn't respond to her cries for help, before he suddenly reappeared, knelt down and held out his arm.

"There you go," he said smugly, pointing to his arm. "Go on, take my hand."

Lucy looked at him, exhausted, and rolled her eyes. She pushed through the mud and reached for Aemond's hand. The grip was slippery from the mud, and when Aemond tried to pull her up, she slipped and flew back into the mud.

"Fuck," she screamed.

"You need to hold on tighter."

"I did, your hand is slippery."

"I think it's more like your hand is slippery."

They tried again and this time Aemond applied more force. He had almost pulled her up when Lucy slipped again with her leg on the mud. But this time she had gripped his hand too tightly that she didn't let go and instead of just falling back into the mud herself, she pulled Aemond with her. The mud splattered everywhere, turning Aemond's light blond hair a dark brown.

He looked at her, aghast, and Lucy had to laugh. "Sorry," she said, raising her hands apologetically.

"Great job, Lucy," he spat. "Now we're both stuck here."

"Well, what can I do about it? You told me to hold on tighter.

"But if you fall, you're supposed to let go of me."

"You might want to say that before next time."

"Sure, I will when I pull the next one out of the mud. Thanks for the tip, niece."

Lucy couldn't tell at the moment how badly she wanted to punch him.

"Help!," she yelled, but other than her voice echoing through the forest and branches cracking, there was no response. They were trapped here.

Aemond looked for a way to escape from the mud pit, but no matter what he did, he kept slipping.

"Come here," he said suddenly, reaching for Lucy, who flinched in fright. If he was going to kill her now, she wasn't going down without a fight.

"Don't ever touch me again, I'm a white belt in Taekwondo and I'm not afraid to use my learned skills on you."

"Isn't that the belt for beginners?"

Lucy looked at him in irritation. She didn't think he knew that. "Yes, but I was a very advanced beginner."

He said no more and just looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Save your irony!"

"I didn't say anything."

"The look on your face says it all."

"Now I'm not allowed to look?" His voice was full of irony. "I was just trying to lift you up so you could climb up, but as unathletic as you are, that's not going to happen."

"Aemond, just shut up okay?," screeched Lucy. This guy was driving her crazy. It was maddening. "Because of you, we're trapped here and probably going to starve and die."

Aemond was silent for a moment and Lucy hoped the gods had finally heard her.

"Starvation implies that we die."

"That's it, I'll spare you, no, I'll spare myself the pain and kill you."

"You're pretty aggressive."

"You must know."

"I actually do know."

He didn't say it but they both knew what he was talking about. And again it was about his eye. She preferred to remain silent. She signaled for him to lift her up, but that plan didn't work either. They were trapped here and had to hope that the others would quickly notice their absence. The mud was cold and the later it got the colder the air became. Lucy began to freeze and sat down on an excellent rock.

They were trapped here in a mud pit and only because she wanted to be smart enough to take a shortcut. They wouldn't drown here, but the cold would chill their bodies to the point that she was sure they would freeze to death by the next morning if no one rescued them.

Aemond sat across from her. He did not look at her, but Lucy could not take her eyes off him. He had tried to help her, and because of her, she was trapped here now. But no matter how much guilt she felt, she was glad she wasn't alone here. It was dark by now, and she had no idea what time it was. They hadn't spoken to each other the whole time. Lucy was shivering. She was incredibly cold and her eyes burned like fire. Her throat hurt, it was dry and scratchy.

She noticed herself slipping off the stone and at the last moment managed to keep herself from flying into the mud. Aemond looked to her.

"Are you all right?"

"Fantastic."

She was anything but Fantastic. All she wanted to do was get into her warm bed, with a hot water bottle, and never come out. It was so incredibly cold.

She didn't hear Aemond come up to her, but when he touched her, she flinched.

"Don't worry, I won't hurt you," he tried to reassure her, putting his ice-cold hand to her forehead. Then on her cheek. His touch was gentle. She didn't know this gentleness from him. He was usually rough with her. "You're hot."

"Thank you."

"No, I mean you have a fever."

Lucy tried to keep her eyes open. "That's nice." She had no idea what Aemond was even talking about. She leaned next to him and his cool skin, despite the cold, gave her a soothing chill before she started to freeze again.

"Do you think anyone else is coming?"

"They'll probably be looking for us already. Be quiet, and get some rest." She felt him put an arm around her and press her against his chest. He warmed her with his body and gave her support so she wouldn't sink into the mud. Although she hated Aemond, she felt safe in his arms. At the moment there was nothing more beautiful for her than to sit there and feel protected by him. How ironic, considering that just a few days ago she had felt just the opposite. But she blamed it on her fever, which was tormenting her more with each passing second. She suddenly became too tired. She grew weak in his arms and she felt Aemond hugging her harder. A tingling sensation ran over her body.

"Aemond?"

He exhaled in annoyance.

"Can't you be quiet for once? I told you to shut up."

"Okay..."

It wasn't even a minute before she opened her mouth again.

"Aemond?"

She didn't see it, but she felt him roll his eye.

"Hmmm?"

"About your eye. I'm really sorry."

Taglist

@watercolorskyy @marvelescvpe @ammo23 @launotfound @ladylyanna91 @queenofthekeep @nina2697 @malfoytargaryen @aemondsfavouritebastard @belcalis9503 @aemtargswh0re @slutforderekhale

[imtrashraccoon]

This writing request comes from my friend @gamemasterofscratch who requested Dr. Baggs being comforted as he's always so stressed and busy. I decided to try my hand at writing in third person for the first time in a while and chose the Reader-Insert character from the Bad Sansuary challenge I wrote, "Have Some Empathy, Dear." (I hope you like it, even if it isn't how I usually write!)

Dr. Baggs belongs to @/megalommi

CW: Mind control against an unwilling person. Nothing explicit happens though.

Doctor's Orders

Dr. Baggs & Female!OC

Word Count: 3,397

Careful...this next part was especially sensitive.

His phalanges trembled ever so slightly as he started to pour the contents of one beaker into another one. He only needed a drop, any more would ruin the experiment and mean the last twelve hours of work had been wasted.

He had taken the necessary precautions of course, just like he always did, even if his bones weren't as frail as many other's bodies were. He had thick black rubber gloves on that covered his entire forearms, a white lab coat that was specially treated to be fireproof, and he was even wearing safety goggles in case there was an explosion.

He narrowed his eye sockets as he scrutinized the bright pink liquid that he was trying to add to another beaker that contained an ashy powder. There was no guarantee that replicating it was even possible. He still had to try though. It would change everything if he could successfully make a synthetic version of that peculiar substance that humans produced naturally. There was no limit to how useful their own version of Determination could be.

Why, he would never have to worry so much about monsters losing hope and falling down. The Guard could have stronger soldiers that could evenly match the most competent human ones, not they weren't already capable in combat that is. He could even break the barrier and reclaim the surface for Monsterkind if he so chose. Not that he was sure that was even feasible in the first place.

A drop of the pink liquid landed on the small pile of ash and...nothing...

He held his breath and studied the beaker closely for several long minutes. When still nothing happened, he finally caved and added another tiny drop, just hoping that it was a fluke. He couldn't have messed something up, he just couldn't have!

A small puff of smoke curled up from the ashes, flooding his nasal cavity with an acrid stench that forced him to take a few steps away from his desk.

He clenched his fists, the rubber material of his gloves crying out in protest, and grit his teeth so harshly that he felt a small jolt of pain in the back of his skull.

wonderful job, sans... you've failed again...

As soon as the thought entered his skull, he frowned and tore off the goggles. He hadn't gone by that name in years, so why had it returned to him at a time like this?!

With a huff, he threw the eye wear at the far wall. The action wasn't nearly enough to placate his growing frustration and with a growl, he turned his attention to the desk. He swept everything to the floor and pounded a clenched fist onto the metal surface, hardly registering the pain from doing so.

Now he'd made a mess of his work area that he'd have to thoroughly clean up. It was a pain to get Monster dust off of anything, let alone that synthesized mixture his assistant had invented. The only good side was that this room had been constructed from easily sterilized materials.

He was so tired.

Yet no matter how hard he had tried to find a remedy in the past, he couldn't sleep. While having more time to dedicate to his work was helpful, it was also detrimental for his health to constantly be burning the candle at both ends.

Dr. Alphys had called him a workaholic once and he'd laughed. She was right though. He couldn't leave well enough alone or stop working for a moment, lest he fall behind some unseen competitor.

He took a few deep breaths and counted backwards from ten. It was such a simple technique but humans certainly knew what they were talking about when it came to psychology. Now if only they had information in their books on how to counteract magical insomnia...

Rubbing small circles over his sphenoid bone, or where his temples would approximately be if he had flesh, he did his best to ease the tension and stress that had built up inside his soul. His frontal lobe felt sensitive too, like he was about to get a migraine, which he really didn't want to deal with right now.

Something set his instincts on high alert. It was a soft sound, like someone had scuffed their foot against the tiled floor when they'd taken a step.

His skull whipped in the direction of the intruder.

His eye sockets widened when he realized they weren't a Monster at all, but a Human. One he'd never seen before either, which was impossible, what with all the surveillance systems scattered around the Underground that he personally oversaw.

They appeared to be a woman with shoulder length dark hair that had loose ringlets at the ends. She had a lighter complexion compared to some humans he'd interacted with and striking eyes that seemed like a mix of green and blue. She was dressed causally in a simple striped cardigan and a pair of black jeans. Interestingly, she also seemed to have some sort of thin plating poking out from her clothes that kind of resembled armour.

She was also taller than him, by at least six or seven inches. Granted, most people were taller than he was, but it was another factor he found concerning about her.

The weird thing was that she was just watching him. All other humans had at least tried to attack him or flee on sight. So why wasn't she?

Forcing himself to relax, he let his arms hang loosely at his sides in an attempt to appear non-threatening for the moment. "can i help you?" he asked, his clear baritone voice easily carrying across the room to her.

She shook her head, although he didn't fail to notice the glimmer of curiosity in her eyes. He could also tell that she was a little nervous, although she was trying to seem relaxed like he was. Her shoulders were rather stiff and with the way her feet were spaced apart, he could tell she was readying herself to flee if he made any sudden movements.

"I was about to ask you that same question," she responded. She let out a bit of an awkward chuckle but made no moves to approach him.

He shook his skull. "i don't need any help you think you can provide, human." He didn't really mean to sound hostile but he couldn't help it.

She seemed completely unfazed though. "That's okay then."

"who are you?" he asked.

She got a strange look on her face and the corners of her lips quirked up slightly. "Well, I have a lot of names, but you can call me...Minty."

He could only look at her blankly. Someone was messing with him, surely. Where had this odd human even come from? She hadn't popped out of nowhere, right? He needed to buy some time and maybe get an idea of what was happening.

Folding his arms behind his back, he drew himself up to his full height and briefly regarded the woman in front of him. "my name is dr. baggs and if you aren't interested in a fight, i have some questions for you..."

She smiled in a more genuine way which was slightly reassuring. "Of course, so long as you let me ask a few of my own."

Baggs nodded and gestured to a rolling chair next to another desk. "feel free to sit down and make yourself comfortable." When the human did so, he pulled another chair over and sat down, although he was careful to stay just out of her reach.

"how did you sneak past all the cameras and get into my lab?" he asked.

She laced her fingers together in her lap and fiddled with her fingernails. Her posture still seemed tense but she appeared calm at the moment.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," she said with a slight chuckle.

He raised a bonebrow suspiciously. "try me, i've seen a lot of things that many would consider unbelievable."

She seemed concerned and her eyebrows furrowed as she considered it. After a moment, she made up her mind and looked up at him again.

"Alright, if you say so. The truth is that I'm not from this world and...a friend dropped me off here."

He understood why she didn't think he'd believe her. In the past he'd theorized about the existence of alternate timelines or even a multiverse, however it hadn't been feasible to explore such theories. He still didn't have the ability to properly do so and even if he did, it could prove dangerous to his own timeline. Who knew what entities existed beyond the veil of reality?

He tapped his clavicle with a phalanx in a thoughtful way. "i see...then why are you here? what do you want from me?" he asked carefully.

She opened her mouth to answer but shut it again with a frown. After a couple seconds of contemplation, she tried again.

"I'm here because of you..."

"why is that?"

She took a deep breath and made eye contact with him. "I can sense how stressed you are and...how your soul is crying out in pain," she stated.

Baggs was a little surprised at how frank she was being right now. Still, he couldn't help but remain on edge. He knew how dangerous humans could be, even without magic, but he was a bit curious how she could sense his emotions.

"how do you know this?"

She pursed her lips as she tried to figure out the best way to answer his question. "It's a little complicated to explain but I've always had a talent for reading how people are feeling. I wouldn't exactly call it magic but it has similarities."

He wasn't sure what to think about how vague her answer was, but he didn't like this situation at all. She was pretending to act casual but he could tell that she was just as, if not more, on edge than he was. Yet she had been polite and actually had tried to relieve some of the tension between them. There was one thing that wasn't sitting well with him though and that was the fact that she seemed to want something from him.

Her gaze shifted from him and towards the discarded experiment on the floor. "I'm guessing whatever happened is why you're so stressed right now, huh?"

"you would be correct."

"Did you want to tell me about it?"

When he didn't answer immediately, she glanced back over at him and tilted her head in a questioning way.

"no, i wouldn't tell anyone, let alone you."

She didn't react to his harsh tone and simply nodded in an understanding way. "That's fine, we don't need to go into details. I can see you didn't get the results you wanted though. How many times have you tried to do this?" Her tone of voice was soft and she seemed to be choosing her words carefully so as to not upset him.

Baggs sighed and shifted in his chair uncomfortably. "nine times now," he muttered under his breath.

She inhaled sharply and he could feel that she was studying him. "I don't think I would've tried again after failing three times. It's impressive how persistent you are, at least in my opinion anyways," she remarked.

She asked a few more casual questions about various topics and he responded in kind. However, the longer the conversation went on, the more uneasy he began to feel. It was like she was trying to get him to feel more comfortable around her. The whole situation felt familiar and he knew why.

It was something he'd often done in the past.

If she was planning to do something, getting him to feel more at ease was the perfect first step.

He hated it.

Before she could ask another question, he interjected with one of his own. "i might be wrong here, but you have experience as a therapist, don't you?" He'd kept his tone even and leaned forward while speaking to express interest in what her answer would be.

She seemed surprised but soon smiled warmly at him. "Yes, I-"

No sooner had she responded did Baggs do what he should've done from the beginning. His magenta right eyelight expanded until it filled his entire socket and the pink swirled with blue to create a hypnotizing array that couldn't be ignored.

She fell easily under his control, just like everyone else before her, but in the split second it took to do so, she seemed to realize what he was doing. She had a look of shock but there was also a strange glint in her teal eyes. She lunged for him and while he tried to move away, her hand closed around his left forearm in a vice grip.

His mind was suddenly flooded with an overwhelming sense of compassion and empathy. However, the feelings weren't his own and for a moment, he was paralyzed from the shock.

He was stronger though.

A simple thought was all it took for the feelings to fade.

Baggs leaned his skull back against the chair and let out a heavy sigh. He'd never had anyone react like that before. Violence sure, but never using...Intent. It didn't make any sense...

He looked down at her, half sprawled on the ground where she'd collapsed and half sitting up almost leaning on top of him, all the while she was still clutching onto his arm. She was stronger than he'd first assumed and he was lucky she hadn't had a chance to go for the kill. But...that wasn't what she'd even tried to do in the first place...

why didn't you follow through and attack me? he asked, using his own thoughts to communicate.

Her expression remained passive and her body didn't move at all, meaning she was still completely under his control. He wanted an answer though and used his magic to gently prob into her mind.

"...I only wanted to help you," was her silent response.

how does any of that help? he pressed further.

"I could feel how much you were hurting. I want to help you with shouldering it, if you'll let me..."

how is trying to influence my mind and emotional state supposed to help?

"I wasn't trying to control you... You didn't believe that I truly wanted to help earlier...so I had to show you."

Baggs narrowed his eye sockets suspiciously. He knew she was telling the truth as no one could lie to him when under his direct control. However, he was a bit intrigued as to what her goal had been.

what else would you do to help me? he asked.

"..." Her thoughts were silent, although he could sense that she was struggling to come up with an answer. "...Anything you allow me to. Although earlier I was thinking of trying to comfort you if you don't mind that," she finally answered.

He decided to give her a chance and relaxed the hold his magic had on her mind. He didn't release her just yet though.

She was still for a moment before she let go of his forearm and sat up properly on the floor. Her eyes never left his and she remained docile, not making any sudden movements.

"May I hug you?" she asked in a soft whisper.

"you may."

She dragged herself to her feet and shuffled towards him. Her movements were slow and unsteady, likely from the effects of the hypnosis, but she managed to stiffly wrap him in a hug.

Baggs let her hold onto him for a couple of minutes before gently pushing her arms away. It felt rather odd allowing a stranger to touch him like that but it wasn't entirely unpleasant either.

Her eyebrows were slightly furrowed with concern and she tilted her head. "I can sense that you're still tense. Would you like it if I tried something different?"

He gave her a curious look. "what else can you do?"

"Well, I know how to use magic to absorb negative feelings."

"i know most humans are incapable of using magic, so could you explain your magic and who taught you how to use it?" he asked.

She nodded and sat down on the ground again, although she crossed her legs this time so she could be more comfortable. "I've always been good at empathizing with people but I can do two things with my magic. I can transfer my own positive emotions to someone else by touching them or I can replace their negative emotions with my own positive ones, absorbing them into my own soul."

She paused for a moment and, sensing that she wasn't willing to reveal who had taught her, Baggs focused his magic again to probe her into telling him.

"His name is Nightmare and...he was also the one who brought me here..." she whispered.

Baggs felt a wave of annoyance flicker over him at the mention of the god of negativity. They'd only met in passing before and it hadn't been a pleasant one.

"Are you okay? I can try comforting you again..." She asked quietly, having apparently sensed his change in demeanor.

He shook his skull and sighed. "no. tell me why he sent you."

Her passive expression faltered and her eyebrows knit together with concern. Still, she was powerless to refuse a direct command in this state.

"Nightmare can sense your negative emotions and he's become very interested in your work," she muttered. "However, I'm not here to convince you to make any deals... I just want to help you."

He knew she was telling the truth and yet he couldn't shake the feeling that Nightmare was using this situation in an attempt to establish good relations. It didn't sit well with him at all.

Baggs fully released his hold on her soul and mind, his right eyelight returning to its usual size and magenta colour as he did so. He could take back the control at anytime and she wouldn't even be able to notice if he did, but he didn't tell her that.

She inhaled sharply and her eyes flicked around the room before settling on him again. As she did so, her body jerked backwards as if to instinctively get away from him but she stopped herself. It was incredibly apparent to any outside observers that she was struggling to remain calm and not freak out, which was commendable.

Baggs stood up and offered her one of his hands to help her stand up as well. "i should apologize for being such a poor host. would you like something to drink?" he inquired.

She grimaced and shook her head but still accepted his help. "Please don't take this the wrong way, but I don't trust you after...that." She looked away from him and dusted her clothing off.

"i understand your concern, but i have no intentions of harming you." He smiled and tried to change the subject with a different question. "may i ask how you came into nightmare's service? you don't seem like the type someone like him would select for his...work."

She smiled while recalling the memory before answering. "You're right, I actually met and befriended his henchmen first. He saw fit to rescue me when my own world collapsed."

He raised his bonebrows in surprise. "I'm amazed you're still in one piece," he remarked dryly.

She chuckled and waved him off. "Well, I have a few more scars now compared to before, but those are mostly from learning self-defense. I'm not deployed for the usual missions so I haven't had to kill anyone yet."

"what missions are you usually deployed on then?"

"I am tasked with the missions that require more tact than what Nightmare himself is able to perform."

It seemed he'd been right from the beginning.

Neither of them said anything for several long seconds. Finally, she put her hand on his shoulder and gave him a gentle smile.

"Is there anything else I can do to help you? I don't know about you but I'd like to at least end this meeting on a pleasant note," Minty commented.

Baggs nodded slightly. "i suppose i can afford to take a break for a little while..." he hummed.

[starl3ng]

Duplicitous Desertion

10—Certain Doom

Played for fools by General Hux, Kylo Ren and Angel feel their world begin to crumble.

Ao3 | Tip Jar | Next

Content: Kylo Ren/Fem!OC, MDNI, sexual content, NSFW, self-indulgent, slow burn, canon-typical violence, mentions/descriptions of injury and death, general angst, sex pollen, aphrodisiacs, improper use of The Force and Force connection, occasional illustrations inside

3.8k words

The next two weeks were busy for Angel, full of final preparations for her three weapons before they would be taken by a group of engineers to be mass manufactured. Ren and Angel only saw each other in passing during this time, and while they had not had the chance to talk, the air between them was calmer, almost back to normal. 

Normal enough for Angel to find herself joining him in front of one of the long windows that lined the hall that led to the high-ranking cafeteria. It was quiet and though he had his mask on, she could tell he was observing… thinking. 

She stares at him for a moment and then her gaze slots over to the endless stars in front of the both of them. “How’s your throat?” She breaks the silence of this empty hall with a rather blunt question. Despite its bluntness, there’s kindness laced into the words. 

“Fine,” he says in equal bluntness. It seemed like that was all he would say for a moment until his gaze from behind the mask tore from the window to look down at her. “Your hands?” 

Angel fights a little smile and looks down at them while turning them over. “Healing. I sprained my wrist when I punched you. The burn wasn’t bad.” It had been an awkward conversation at that medical bay—and the most complicated lie she’d ever told. “Your face is harder than it looks, apparently.” She rolls her head to look up at him, scoffing out a small laugh.

Ren scoffed. Under the mask, a smile tugged at his lips that Angel could almost sense. “Thanks, I guess.” He returned his gaze to the window and watched a distant star twinkle, a pulsation of energy from billions of miles away visible from the ship. “I would like to do that again sometime when you are ready.” He did not take his eyes off the window. “A little less violently of course, but you had the making of a great bladesman. I want to teach you how to use a lightsaber should there be a time you need to.” He made a quick glance down at her before looking back out to the window.

“A lightsaber?” Angel’s eyes follow his gaze out the window. She sighs. “You know I don’t fight… but… since you’re asking; alright. I’ll let you know when both my hands are healed.” Her boots scuff on the ground as she moves to step away.

Not a moment later, a pair of footsteps exited the doorway to the lunch room. Instead of continuing down the hall past them, they stopped. “Ren.” It was Hux’s voice.

Ren turned around quickly, a hiss coming from under his mask as he exhaled. “General Hux.”

Hux glared at Ren, then towards Angel, his orange brows furrowing as he moved his green eyes back to where the masked man was standing. “You are aware that she lacks the proper ranking to dine here, aren’t you?” Hux said as he placed his hands neatly behind his back.

Ren stepped forward. “She was just leaving.”

“Good.” Hux held his head high as he passed the two of them, continuing down the hall until he vanished.

“You should go,” Ren said, turning to Angel. He sounded defeated when he said this. He really had just been enjoying their presence together beside the window. Now, that moment was just a memory.

Angel steps backward, her gait lazy. “Are all you boys horribly pent-up?” She smirks before she turns on her heel and disappears down the hall. 

Ren’s fists clench as he watches her go. He was beginning to become aware of his feelings towards her, but after so many failed attempts to close them off to himself, he was starting to give in to the inevitable.

After a moment of staring as she disappeared down the hall, he finally brought himself to turn and head into the dining room.

—

Within a couple of days, Angel’s hands were feeling right as rain and she found herself in more comfortable training gear than weeks before, when she fought Ren in uniform. The door to the training room slid open and she stepped inside, adjusting the strap of her corded tank top—the one she’d gotten on Akiva. Her hair was done up too, as it had gotten long during her time with the First Order. Her bangs were the only thing she trimmed, and even those trailed long out of her ponytail to curl around her cheeks. 

Angel stretches both of her wrists as the door slides shut behind her. 

Ren was waiting for her there, sitting on top of a raised block in the floor that he had pressed some button to summon. Other than the block and Ren atop it, the large room was barren. He approached her and gestured to the training saber she had used the last time they sparred. “You can either use the training saber, or mine. Realistically if you ever had to use one you would be using mine, but it burns hotter than those training sabers.” He adjusted how he stood before speaking again. “The choice is yours on which you'd prefer to start with.” 

Angel knew what she wanted. She eyed it on his belt. But a voice in her mind told her she would be too distracted to learn. As someone who worked on weapons, it was easy for her to get caught up and excited about how something worked, so much so that she’d miss important conversations. 

Angel opts for the training saber, walking over to pull it off the wall. 

Ren nods and walks over to the center of the room. He gestures for Angel to follow. When she catches up to his side, he steps behind her. “I'm going to lean against you,” he says through his mask as he attempts to step behind her body.

His mask had other plans, however.

The chin of it hung down too low to slip over Angel’s head, preventing him from being able to see over her. Hesitantly, Ren reached up and removed it, air hissing and squeaking. He tossed it aside once more and let out a natural sigh, his chin sliding over Angel’s head so that she pressed against his collarbone. His arms wrapped around her body as he placed his hands over hers to adjust the grip on the saber. “Alright, switch it on.”

Flushed but determined to actually retain something, Angel flicks the training saber on. It buzzes to life, pale, and colorless. When he’s behind her like this, broad figure engulfing her own, she finds it hard to comprehend that she’d overpowered him nearly two weeks before. 

Ren’s boots slide between her feet, nudging them to stand further apart. He nods when it feels right. “Now, everyone has a different fighting style, so I won’t be trying to teach you mine, but I want you to have general control over the weapon,” he muttered down at her. His hands guided her to move the saber slowly from side to side across her body. 

Angel nods, allowing her body to be guided. She seemed to have a habit of leaning most of her weight onto her right leg. “Hah, yeah, I don’t think I could keep up with your fighting style if I tried,” she mumbles offhandedly. 

Ren smiles behind her, his chest swelling with an amount of pride. “I—don’t know if there will be a time when, for some reason, I need to give you mine, so I want you to be prepared to defend yourself with anything,” he explained as he released his hands and stepped around her to watch her repeat those same movements with him watching from the front.

She wonders for a moment why. Why train her? Why even worry? But another voice answers her question, whispering, and rather smugly. She knew why, or at least she was pretty confident she knew why.

Even still, Angel felt a little embarrassed having him watch her swing around the equivalent of a toy sword. She couldn’t help but laugh. “I don’t look stupid, do I?” She hangs her head for a moment, looking up only to smile shyly. 

He tried to hold back a smile, lips twitching as he put the back of his palm to his mouth and cleared his throat. “No less stupid than I must have when I was first training.” He stepped back behind her and slid his warm hands back over hers. 

Angel tilts her head curiously, craning her neck to look up at him. “Who did train you, sir?” She’d never thought of it before… but at some point, Kylo Ren had been young and fumbling. She remembers the young man from her dream and tries to find him in his face now. 

Ren sighed against her, mood souring slightly at her question. He took a breath after a moment of silence and answered, “An old foolish man.” His hands tightened around hers as he showed her a different motion, an offensive lunging strike. It was simple, nothing like how he attacked. However, against someone not armed with a close combat weapon, it would be effective. The hard toe of his boot pushed one of her feet forward in time with the lunge.

Angel grunts as she keeps up with him, memorizing the movement and stepping forward when he nudges her. “He must’ve not been that foolish. You’re skilled,” she says. Though, she supposed he was somewhat foolish if Ren had become the kind of man he was, working for the kind of people he was. 

Ren let out a small laugh. “Thank you,” he said with a small smile as he stepped away to watch her repeat the lunge from a different angle.“I like to think that my style with my saber was self-taught, however. I don't believe my old master would approve of its aggression towards the opponent.” His smile had faded. He was retreating into the depths of his mind again, the conversation growing cold. “Do you feel comfortable with this so far?” He asked as he began to walk a slow circle around her.

Angel nods in confirmation, swinging the saber experimentally. She knew not to push further. There was only so much patience he had before he returned to glaring, cold eyes. “So, when will you teach me to spin it in that fancy way you do?” She teases, trying to gently keep the tone of the room light. 

Ren let out a small laugh, lips pulling apart to show the whites of his teeth. A few of them looked crooked, but in a sort of charming way, canine’s sharp. “I am not your master,” he said with a smirk. “I could teach you if you asked. Are you asking?” Ren took a step around her, leaning down so that his face was close to hers. His hands were held behind his back and his chest was lowered so that it nearly touched the back of her shoulder as he leaned over her.

The tips of Angel’s ears go red and she lets out a muted laugh, wondering if he knew how he sounded. “I am.” She flicks her ponytail purposely, making sure it hits him in the face. 

He sputters as he pulls his face away, scowling at her in a teasing manner. “I don’t know if I want to after that,” he said as jabbed two of his fingers into her side as he switched which shoulder he leaned over to watch her hands.

Angel let out a yelp of laughter, leaning to one side momentarily. “No, you want to. C’mon, show me,” she says, tone dipping from playful to fringing on serious. 

Ren changes her grip on the saber. “You are going to want to use one hand,” he said as he used his second hand to slide the lightsaber further up in her hand. “Now, move your wrist like this to flip the saber backward in your palm,” he said as he slowly moved it for her. He leaned closer. “You want to try and let the saber do most of the moving.”

“Right.” Angel nods, trying to loosen up her hand so that the weapon spun more freely. With his guidance, she’s sure she could get better at it. 

After a few more rounds of practice, Angel left the training room very in need of a shower. Ren stayed behind, mentioning cleaning up the room or something similar. 

She felt… she felt… happy. Something she’d never expected to feel while working for the First Order. Her relationship with Ren was bordering on something she'd call romantically-strained friendship, even if he didn’t want to acknowledge that—or if such feelings were fleeting. Frankly, she didn’t care, humming a tune to herself at the end of the empty hall while she waited for the elevator she’d called to arrive on her floor. 

When the door slid open, she couldn’t have expected to see the face of that slimy, red-headed general standing in the center of the elevator. For a moment she stares, trying to keep her nose from wrinkling. 

He rubbed her the wrong way. Something about how he held his chin high and looked down the bridge of his skinny nose. And though he was perhaps an inch or two taller than Angel, he was rail thin, sickly pale, and felt smaller than her in aura. Like a little yapping dog—that’s what he reminded her of.

“General Armitage Hux, good evening,” she says coolly as she steps into the elevator to stand beside him. Doing anything else would’ve been simply idiotic. Had she turned and left she would’ve made her distaste for his company apparent. 

Hux bounces his weight from the heel of his feet to the toes then back, hands intertwined behind his back as his upper lip thins. “Ah yes, Angel was it?” He glances down at her, though shifts his gaze forward as the elevator’s doors slowly begin to shut. On the panel of the elevator, a singular button glowed, the floor Hux was trying to reach.

The training rooms were at the base of the ship, floor eight, while the housing for Angel’s rank was floor twenty-seven. The floor Hux was trying to reach was fifty-two. He was likely heading to the command bridge.

Hux cleared his throat. “Is the dog not with you today? I am surprised,” he said with a disgusting smile. 

As Angel leans forward to press the button for her floor, she hums disinterestedly. It was hard not to twitch at the notion of Ren being called a dog.  “Surely you know, General, that animals aren’t allowed on Star Destroyers.” She’d make him look like an idiot if she could. Leaning back, she folds her arms behind herself, mimicking him.  

Hux’s eyebrow twitched at her comment, but his eyes remained forward. The elevator dinged. They had made it one floor higher, gods above, the First Order built slow elevators.

He let out a hum that was probably just a disinterested laugh. “Surely he treats you horribly,” he blurted out suddenly.

Angel couldn’t help the glare she gave him from the side of her eye. What kind of statement was that? She thinks for a moment, trying to understand what sort of thing he was trying to achieve. “He treats me as he would any other.” It was a lie and she knew it. She was wearing proof of her special treatment, out of uniform, and in attire suited for the training room. Her hair was still up too, different from the usual style she wore; undone and straight. 

Hux’s gaze shifted to her. “There are others here who could treat you better, give you things a pretty, young woman such as yourself would deserve.” He turned, hands pulling down to his sides as he looked down at Angel. “I could give you something much nicer than he can. I can get you respect, power, safety. I could care for you.” He began to corner her, taking another step as he brought an arm up to block one side of her.

Angel shrunk back towards the wall, looking bewildered and then disgusted. “What?” She leans away from him. He can’t be serious. Her mind began to race. Was he serious? What garnered this kind of attention from him of all people? “I… I can assure you, General, that I am given proper respect and safety as I am.” She pushes her fingers against his chest, trying to urge him away. 

The elevator comes to a slow at her floor and she looks up at the number in relief, expecting him to pull away as the door slides open. 

Hux did not so much as even budge when the door dinged open, he remained there, ready to put another arm around her. “I could make you well known amongst the First Order. Respected for your inventions. I could get you clearance to any room you would like. You wouldn’t even have to work anymore.” He leaned closer to her, green eyes staring at her viciously, nothing like how Ren looked at her even in his coldest moments. He used his other hand to reach towards Angel, running his fingers through her white strands of hair pouring out of her ponytail.

The doors gave a ding as they began to close.

Angel watches the doors close with an expression of despair, her pale eyes flicking to his. She knew she was in a serious pickle. She couldn't slap a man like this. He was like a whining toddler. She knew the second she laid a hand on him he’d have her fired or even killed. He’d spin the story to make her look nastier than he was, she could see it now. He’d leave the elevator with a red handprint across his cheek and she’d leave completely unscathed. Oh, she hated his kind. 

“I appreciate your offer, General, but I prefer to stay well hidden,” Angel says between clenched teeth, jerking her head to the side to free her hair. “Fame, wealth, and power aren’t things I find all too desirable. Kindness and understanding are high on my virtues, and are qualities befitting the greatest of men.” Her lip lifts. “Things that, unfortunately, I have yet to see from you.” The elevator wobbled as it began to move down.

Hux hissed, pulling away as he pulled his hand back quickly and raised it into the air.

Seconds before he could bring it down across her face the door opened. Standing in the opening was Ren.

Before anyone could blink, Hux went rigid, feet lifted off the floor as Ren stepped inside the elevator. His hands flew to his throat, a sign that Ren was choking him with The Force as Angel had seen done numerous times.

“What are you doing, General?” Ren hissed through his mask.

“Hgk—!” Hux struggled in the air, the inability to breathe killing him. “L—let me go, you beast—!”

Ren did as Hux said, dropping him on the floor as the elevator now made its long journey to the original floor it had been en route to. 

Hux slid onto his hands and knees and adjusted the collar of his uniform. “Hah, I was trying to offer your pet a better position,” Hux said as he quickly got back up to his feet and dusted himself off.

Ren glanced at Angel at the mention of “pet”. 

Angel gave Hux a sneer as she fit herself into the corner beside all the buttons, using Ren like a wall between herself and him. “Oh, yes, General Hux was just informing me about how he could give me everything I deserve with his proposed position; fame, wealth, and power—and If I’m recalling it correctly—his care.” 

Ren hissed through his helmet. “Why?” He took a step closer to Hux.

“That is exactly what I have been asking myself, Ren. Why her? What makes her so special?” Hux smiled as he looked back at Angel. “But now I think it is obvious.” He gave a chuckle. “I believe you have feelings for her. After all; nothing else could warrant the sort of relationship you have with her.” Hux leaned forward. “I don’t need to make you jealous,” he hissed as he leaned up and looked into Ren’s mask. “I hold the power now Ren. I will get you demoted, that's what I will do,” he said nodding to himself as if he was making his plan at that moment. “I'm going to tell the Supreme Leader that you have been harboring a girl amongst the first order just because you love her.” Hux was practically shaking as he spoke, unable to control his sheer excitement. 

Ren stepped aside as the doors opened, putting himself between Hux and Angel, but allowing Hux to escape.

Unsurprised, Hux proudly stepped out, turning as the doors began to close behind him. “Expect a summons from your master soon, Ren.” The doors sealed shut and silence fell between them.

Angel stood stiff and in shock. The little slimeball had been playing with them. Not only that; she felt like a spotlight had been cast on the both of them, baring the unnatural nature of their relationship to the galaxy. She hadn’t even realized how strange their business partnership was until someone went screaming and pointing at it like it was evil incarnate. Like it was something heinous. 

She’d had her suspicions… but was it really that obvious? To everyone? Slowly, Angel looks up at the dark figure of the man beside her. “The Supreme Leader?” Her voice trembles. He was the only man she was sure was the scariest in the Galaxy, at least at the current moment. “Will he even… Will he even believe the General? I mean, it’s not like you—It's not… like you actually…”  She was scared to even say the word. It trails off with a nervous and unsure laugh that dies on her tongue because she knew—at least to her—that her words weren’t true.

She did. She did love him. 

Ren was trembling, fists curled into themselves as he stared down at the floor. He was silent as he stood there, not moving. The button for Angel’s floor lights up on its own.

The silence was unnerving for Angel, who watched the floor number climb above her. This place. She almost wanted to scream. Every time she and Ren became more friendly, every time her future felt a little brighter, this place ruined it all. These people. Anger boils deep in her gut. She wanted them dead. 

“You’re not saying anything.” Angel glances at him from the corner of her eye just as the doors slide open on their floor. 

Ren agreed to her statement simply by continuing to remain silent. As soon as the doors opened he turned and walked out at a brisk pace, shoes tapping on the polished black floors as he made his way to his room.

Next

[targcrazies]

Spring Wine Pt. 2

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC Premise: Rhaenyra Targaryen, referred to as Rhae by her family, is the heir of her mother, the Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen. In this Alternate Universe, Rhaenyra has her children with Daemon instead of Harwin and ascends the throne without an armed contest. However, tensions brew elsewhere, as Rhaenyra intends to marry her heir to her second child and oldest son, Jacaerys Velaryon.

WARNINGS: none, for this part, at least.

Part 1

The Queen Rhaenyra had begun to feel the absence of her father the moment she sat on the Iron Throne. The throne bore no comfort that commoners assumed royalties to have. If you shifted too much on the throne, it dug into whatever fabric, even the sturdiest of leather. If you sat too high, you could cut your buttocks and thighs. The seat was meant to keep you humble, grounded. Rhaenyra had soon realised it, even before her father’s demise. What made little sense to her was how different she felt as a woman. Much of her womanhood had worn her own crown, akin to hers, and they all submitted to it.

A fortnight after the ravens bearing the announcement of the Princess of Dragonstone’s betrothal to the Queen’s oldest son were sent out, the Queen received ravens of her own. Several. Two from High Lords, seven from Petty; the Queen initially paid little heed to the letters being brought in and unsealed. She resorted to reviewing ledgers and approving budgetary changes as her husband, the King Consort and the Hand, carefully reviewed the contents of the said letters. The Queen noticed a shift in her husband’s temperament, looking to her right to find his face hardened. “What is the matter, Daemon?”

Her Hand, her husband, and the father of their children looked at her for a moment before she nodded. “Everyone, vacate, now!” 

The Lord of the Tides looked confused before getting to his feet, soon followed by the Master of Coin and the rest. Daemon looked pointedly at Steffon Darklyn, his wife’s sworn shield, who in turn looked toward his Queen. She nodded at him quietly, watching as the man left without a noise and closed the door gently.

“What is the matter, Daemon?”

“They’re challenging our daughter’s claim to the throne.” He splayed the letters across the table for the Queen to look at. Instead of skimming through the contents of the letters, she began to look for the names signed underneath some lords’ contention. Fossoway, Graves, Willum, Rhysling, Sloane, Varner, Westbrook, Wayne, and Hightower. The Queen felt the blood rise to her neck, heated and charged, as she slammed her fists on the table and rose to her feet. Daemon watched as his wife’s jaw clenched.

“How dare they?” She muttered quietly under her breath, “How dare they challenge my daughter’s claim and me?”

“It is Otto’s doing.” Daemon responds, “Otto must have made that gnat of his nephew reach out to the other lords to make the plea.”

“They’re looking to weaken our claim, my authority.” The Queen spoke, as if in a haze, “They cannot expect to be pardoned of an offense so grave.”

“Fucking Andals…” Daemon spat, “Rhae is being wed to Jace, what else do they want?”

“What they’ve always wanted,” she whispered, “A man on the throne. But they ought to know that such days have come to an end. No merit but the order of birth shall dictate who sits on the Iron Throne from now till eternity.”

Daemon walked to his Queen as she seethed in rage, gripping onto the large table before her, “Might I make a suggestion, your Grace?” 

She looked at her husband, “Drop the formalities, Daemon. For once.”

His shoulders fell as his face lost tact, “We send out ravens to the whole realm, decreeing that any such talk will be considered as high treason. Rhaenyra the Younger shall be the Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, second of her name, upon the Queen Rhaenyra’s passing.”

She tutted, “Don’t speak so ominously. Ravens will delay another plea, not stop them. We need to do something else.” The Queen walked to the great window behind her. The sun fell on her porcelain skin, ruddying her cheeks as the golden in her silver hair gleamed.

Daemon watched his Queen in awe. He often did. He knew his niece-wife would make a capable ruler, but once had he imagined her to be so dynamic. “What do you suggest, Rhaenyra?” He finally spoke. 

She closed her eyes and inhaled in the soothingly swift breeze that passed, “Rhae must go to them.”

—

Otto Hightower was summoned to his nephew’s council rather early in the morning. Upon being dismissed as the Hand at the Red Keep, Otto soon found employment as his nephew’s Castellan. While the work was less demanding and Otto was left with little to do with himself, he took little slight in it. What he took the slight in was much, much different.

He liked to believe that his grandson, Prince Aemond Targaryen, had ambitions that he failed to ascertain. For why else would the boy choose to yield his obedience to his half-sister and not his own brother of flesh and blood?

He remembered vividly when Syrax’s shriek was heard throughout King’s Landing. Otto and Alicent had already thrown those aware of the King’s demise in the black cells, in hopes of keeping the news shielded. They had begun arrangements for the coronation, Aegon was found deep in the bosom of the woman he had come to adore on the streets of Silk, blithely unaware of his father’s last breath. “Where’s Aemond?” Alicent had asked and Helaena had shrugged quietly. No one had thought the boy would go as far as to fly to Dragonstone and escort his half-sister and her family to the Red Keep. 

Otto would never forget the sight of nine whole dragons flying together. The sun had shied away and night had befallen the capital. Despite Vhagar, Vermithor, Caraxes, and Meleys being bigger than Syrax, Rhaenyra was seen flying first onto the Red Keep. Closely behind her rose Rhaenyra the Younger on Vermithor and Daemon Targaryen on Caraxes. Rhaenyra’s once good mother and cousin Rhaenys flew with her grandsons and all of Rhaenyra’s sons, young Viserys sat with her on Meleys. Behind them all, flew Vhagar. Otto could still picture the blue stone glistening in the sky as his grandson smugly wore his betrayal on his face. The betrayal belonged there, in his small grin, his single eye in obeisance to the daughter and her children Otto had worked so hard to depose. All those years for nothing. Whenever Rhaenyra the Younger quirked up the side of her lips to smile, she looked like the Rogue Prince. It made little sense, for the Prince was only a great uncle and could not have passed his looks so far ahead unless his seed was her progenitor. Otto had thought, “You know who else looks like Daemon? Aemond. Aemond the Betrayer.”

He was further incensed when his oldest grandson looked furtively relieved at his half-sister’s appearance. He could not bother to furrow his brows to honour the frustration that arose from the heart of his mother, who had conspired and plotted to place him upon the throne with all her might. He simply seemed… bored, as if the failed efforts of his mother and his grandsire meant less than the bosoms he had his silver crown nestled upon just earlier. Otto intended to take the goblet he drank from, incessantly, and smash in upon his sharp Targaryen nose. How he’d have relished at the sight of the useless, precarious boy bleeding, frowning for once, agonised at the assault.

Otto chose to stand still and watch as the preparations of the coronation were taken over by his traitorous younger grandson, who pushed Cole to oblige. Daemon took over the preparations of the funeral that were to precede the Coronation, the Dowager Queen was only allowed the privilege to wrap her late husband’s carcass of a corpse in fashion. 

Soon after the events, the Hightowers were sent back packing. Young Daeron was already in service to Alicent’s cousin, and the Queen Rhaenyra remarked, “How he’d love to have his mother and grandfather!” Aegon was given the castle left vacant upon some Lord’s death that had left it uninherited, with lands and livestocks and servants. Helaena had happily taken it upon herself to vacant her and her children’s chambers, crooning at the prospect of finally foregoing the grandeur she deemed fickle and ostentatious. Aegon seemed nonchalant, but Otto knew that deep inside, the boy was glad to be rid of the burden his mother had imposed upon his shoulders that wanted nothing but whores’ heads as they filled his belly with booze and his head with superficial praise. Who knows how much of his coffers were depleted at the expense of his hedonist pursuits.

When Otto opened the door to the council room, he found only his nephew and Maester Gladwynn. “Lord Hightower,” he jerked his head, ever-so-slightly, down, “You called for me?”

“Uncle, please have a seat.” Ormund’s smile was reminiscent of his grandfather’s, his eyes twinkled akin to his mother’s. “We have done as you had requested. The ravens have been sent. Lord Tarly and Lord Beesbury have, most graciously, denied the proposition.”

Otto’s left eye twitched, “Were no bargains made?”

“They were offered men and a lax on taxes that they humbly refused. I made no further insistences.” Ormund sipped on, what Otto assumed, was honeyed wine. “I spared little effort, nuncle, but I did not resort to attrition or aggression for I see little utility in such plea. The Queen ascended the throne on the merit of the order of her birth, it’d make little sense for her to not continue this as tradition for her own children. She’d be deemed unfair and weak.”

“Her case, as the parchments state, could be considered an exception. She was the only child that the first Queen Aemma Arryn bore the King.”

“But not the only trueborn child born of his seed, nuncle.” Ormund chuckled, “I only did as you pleaded because I know the Queen would refrain from waging wars. Her stepmother and her half-brothers are of my blood, and the Lords who did consent only did so of mine own volition, she knows. And the Queen must know, if she has the slightest of wit, why I must have done so.”

Otto watched his nephew savour the wine in his mouth and swallow leisurely before the man spoke again, “The Queen is the first of her name and sex on the Iron Throne, she will not want to make enemies. The highest threat she will decree is that our tongues will get pulled out with hot pincers and fed to her dragon if we even make a peep as such. And, we will all quiet down as per her grace's orders. If the Gods be good, her daughter will one day rule Westeros, and we can only pray that Rhaenyra Targaryen, the second of her name, is as just as the Father and as merciful as the Mother.”

Otto studied his nephew’s face. Recently widowed, he had taken Samantha Tarly for his wife, and yet he had failed to convince the Lady’s father to join hands. Otto knew rather well at that point that his insistence meant nothing at all. It was almost as if Lord Tarly had refused another serving of a pie or another filling of mead. The old man knew then that his nephew had done little to stir any support. He knew that his effort to anger the Queen into hostility had failed terribly. The Queen would not be viewed as cruel, at most rash, perhaps. But who would not be at an endeavour so treasonous?

While Otto could not help but resent his nephew’s appeasement, he also could not overlook the way he had complied to his Castellan’s request while keeping his seat safe. Ormund had taken after his father, and he had taken well. 

—

Rhae had become well-acquainted with her mother’s lack of tact at that point, but it still stung to see her ever-loving and gracious mother turn so stoic, devoid of love and affection. 

“Do you know what you must do, girl?”

“Must I fly to Lord Hightower and the others, your Grace?”

“Never answer a question with another, Rhae, seems feeble.” The Queen looked pointedly at her daughter, “Tell me what you believe you must do.”

Rhae breathed her chest full of air, “I must fly to Lord Hightower and the others, your Grace.” She did not know how to meet her mother’s eyes anymore.

“The Dragon does not concern itself with the opinions of the sheep.” Daemon snorted, “Child, you must visit only Ormund Hightower out of courtesy. The rest can suck on their balls.”

Rhae noticed her mother suppress a grin, her eyes resting upon the King Consort, half in reprimand and half in amusement. The moment she turned to look at her heir, the warmth of her eyes dried into stones, “I agree, you must only fly to Lord Hightower and speak to him directly. The ravens will surely fly to them, but you must get there first. I shall excuse the both of you.” The Queen looked to her left, where her oldest son sat in silence, “Get saddled, both of you!”

Rhae’s head shot from her mother, to her father, then to her brother. “But Mother-”

“Your Grace, may I speak before?” Jace spoke, his eyes upon his sister. The Queen settled back into her chair, nodding. “They ask for me to be made heir. Shall it not be futile for the Princess Rhaenyra to arrive with me? She’d be Queen one day, with or without me. I believe it would serve our case more for the Princess of Dragonstone to fly on her mount, Vermithor, on her own.”

The Queen looked at both her children, in deep ponderance she remained as the clocks may have turned thrice. Finally, she huffed out, “Fine, son, you make sense. What do you think, Rhae?”

“I was about to propose the same as my betrothed, Mother. I should be the one making the journey.”

“We cannot let you go unattended, however. I mean no disregard to your capabilities, but the heir of Seven Kingdoms must have an escort. I’d have you wait out until some of our knights could ride there on horseback, but that would take more time than I can allow. The rest of the boys are too young to assume such a duty.”

Rhae sat up straight, “That only leaves the King Consort and Prince Aemond, Mother.”

The Queen hummed, “The King Consort is busy, and Aemond is Lord Hightower’s own cousin.” She nodded in consideration, her mouth shifting in ease, “The matter is settled then. Jace, could you fetch Aemond?”

Jace regretted every word he had spoken that day, “Yes, your Grace.” He muttered quietly under his breath and left hurriedly. The Queen seemed flummoxed, “Whatever got into the boy…”

—

“Remember the night I claimed Vhagar?” Aemond spoke as he mounted his dragon and Rhae hers. “It was a fortnight after you had claimed Vermithor. I was positively anguished to have my only dragonless friend snatched from me.”

“Now you ride the largest beast, the only one reminiscent of Aegon’s, Rhaenys’s, and Visenya’s conquest.” She settled on her dragon, gently rubbing the scales of her old man. 

“I’d have any dragon now, happily, as long as I get to take upon the sky with you.”

Rhae chuckled, “Might I say, you have made me begin to reconsider my choices. My brother does not speak nearly as much.”

“You don’t even look at the boy!” Aemond laughed as he fastened his saddle chains, “To whom shall he speak? The atmosphere?”

Rhae relished at the sound of his laughter, rarely witnessed by anybody else. Perhaps only by Jacaerys, who had recently developed a spiteful, voyeuristic delight in watching the two converse. He may not know the sound as much, but he knew the look of it. And he imagined that that is how he may have looked had she loved him.

[vivianleighwishesshewasme]

Wanna build a snowman

TCGxAnna (OC)

__________________________________________________________

__________Wanna Build a snowman______________________

Charlie could barely contain his excitement. He’d been bugging his parents all day to come out into the white cold barren land of their property and help him build a snowman before his cousins arrived for Christmas Eve. 

Now at six Charlie was a proper boy, but he still needed a hand for the larger snowballs. That’s where his dad came in. 

Mum was pregnant again with what Charlie hoped would be a boy this time. While he loved his little three year old sister, Anna, named for an aunt he’d never met, he needed a boy to teach boy things too. 

Anna had his Da’’s dark hair and sharp blue eyes but mum's sweetness. A proper Shelby gypsy princess. Yuck!

She obviously wasn’t built to help the boy create a snow army. 

Anna would be more interested in being pulled in the toboggan or going for a sleigh ride later. 

Charlie didn’t care about those things. He needed to build a snowman and snowball arsenal before his Uncle John’s boys came over for the weekend. 

He had already loaded his little sister onto the little wooden sleigh and was instructing her to hold the basket properly so the contents to decorate said snow general didn’t spill out as he pulled her along.

“Alright Charlie, come on, let's get a move on to this perfect snowman building spot before you mum and sister freeze to death. 

“Grace raised an eyebrow at him in a silent challenge.” He chuckled, they both knew she wasn’t that dainty. Not after she’d shot Cambell. 

____________________________________________

The Snowman was almost complete, it only needed the carrot nose. 

“Hey, where’d the carrot go?” Charlie frantically searched under the wagon, tossed the basket upside down to shake it. 

His gaze settled on his little raven haired sister.

 She was eating it!!! 

“Anna Helen Shelby, you put down his nose right now!” Charlie stomped his foot indignantly earning soft laughter from his parents. His little fist clenched in anger and his face flushed with more heat than the stinging cold weather could have chapped his sweet cheeks with. 

“Why do girls always ruin your plans? You better have a boy mum, I don't need another princess gaining up on me. Girls!” He stomped towards his confused sister as he snatched the carrot from her hands.

“Charlie Shelby!” His mother scolded him. Tommy laughed and shook his head.

“Women are good at that aren't they Charlie, ruining your plans.” The man grinned cheekily at his pregnant wife who seemed slightly amused by his musings. He liked fiery women. Charlie didn't know it yet but he’d probably fall in love with a strong willed woman too. 

Charlie and Tommy let out a little yelp as they were assaulted with fist sized white snow balls. 

Grace and Anna had declared war on their men. 

Tommy and Charlie happily abandoned the carrot to defend themselves from their beautiful traitors. 

“Girls are trouble.” Tommy stated while charlie grinned at him and nodded. They were indeed.

[beautifulloverwitch]

By Fire, Sea and Blood

The untold tale of an approaching collapse

Chapter three: Look at her now.

previous ///// next

Summary: An attempt to push the children together, unite them as the one, seemed to only gnaw at the growing rift between them all.

__________________

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Daenerys Velaryon (strong! oc)

wc: 7k

warnings: assault

Taglist: Open

Masterlist

The king found himself struggling to enjoy the magnificent model he would commonly take delight in assembling. An intricate model of what the histories attempted to put into words of the indescribable Valyrian capital. Whenever he was away from the prolonged and sometimes uneventful council sessions, he would allow his eyes to skim over each intricate detail of the stone display. Not shying away from expressing his disapproval regarding any errors that so slightly contradicted what he had envisioned. Today a great concern rests upon his mind, the ever-growing tension between his family haunting his every step.

“Your grace? Are today’s changes to your liking? If not, I shall call for the stonemasons to return” his squire asked, confused by his king’s lack of interest today.

His silence even startled his wife who sat by the table the two so commonly conversed on, she glanced over her shoulder to her pondering husband.

The king arose from his dwelling sea of thoughts and looked up at the awaiting squire “No need, Eddard,” he spoke, he gestured to him “let us continue another day.”

Alicent’s narrowed gaze followed the squire as he left before she worriedly looked at the troubled Viserys “Is everything alright Viserys?”

He looked to her and sighed, groaning as he stood up and made his way to join her at the table “I’ve found myself consumed with worry these passing moons,” he explained as he attempted to word his concerns.

“What kind?” Alicent sounded eager to know, she had hoped he’d begun to realise her own concerns.

“The boys,” he addressed, bewilderment written across his features, his thoughts distracted him enough that he had not noticed Alicent’s hopeful expression “All that I have tried to do, nothing has quelled the animosity between them!”

Alicent sighed in dismay “Your kind intentions should not be wasted my King,” she explained, taking a sip from her cup “you’ve done all you could.”

He shook his head in disagreement “not enough,” he muttered to himself before looking to her again, curious to ask, “How has time treated Helaena and Daenerys’s friendship,” He was worried the animosity had corrupted even their pure bond.

She hummed before answering “They’re doing well, they care not for the boy’s hostility of one another,” she frowned in confusion as she stated aloud “even Aemond seems to have grown fond of princess Daenerys,” the words tasted bitter, for She was quite contented by the rift between her sons and Rhaenyra’s boys. Daenerys seemed to be a strongly rooted obstacle that proved a great challenge in maintaining that rift.

He pondered for a moment, speaking his thoughts aloud “Aemond, Helaena, and Dany have always been fond of one another, why is it so difficult for them to maintain sentiments for the lot of them?” the longer he spoke of their hostility, his voice would waver with anger “I had hoped Jace, and Daeron would grow to have the fondness those three seem to share.”

Alicent shook her head, hands resting upon her lap as she patronisingly spoke to him “My king, two boys being milk brothers does not garner amity.”

The king huffed, recalling what became of their third son “you speak as though it was not you who had sent Daeron away so soon,” he spat, still irked by the decision to have the boy sent away from his home at the young age of five. A sigh escaped him as he realised the venom of his words made his wife sink into her seat “all I wish is for this family to be united, for the boys to not stand against one another but together,” his fist clenching as his tender voice spoke of the dream he so longed for “there will be a time when none of us will be there to protect them,” his fingers running over his gloved hand, concealing the decaying finger beneath it “I only wish for them to be allied together when such a time comes.”

Alicents brow knitted together as she pictured such a future, a future where she would not be there to protect her children. Imagining who would take her place, she had considered, for a mere moment Viserys’s dream of a future they were absent from, but the vines of a delusion born of deception tightened their grasp on her again. A world absent of Viserys would be a world full of Rhaenyra, with a crown decorating her head. A crown with four hands gripping it tightly.

Falling back to her ways she voiced “Those boys are barbaric unlike their sister,” earning a disapproving stare from her husband “you can’t expect them to change.”

“Our boys are no different,” at their mention, Alicent seemingly did not appreciate Viserys placing them on equal grounds as she lowered her hardened gaze to the ground “and there is still time for them all to learn.”

His words caused Alicent to look back up, wary as she noticed his fingers fiddle with his bandaged little finger, something he would always do whenever he was considering an important decision “I’ve made the decision, that it is best for all the boys to do their princely duties together,” at those words Alicents demeanour changed, her head seemed to retreat backwards, perturbed by the proposal, words seemed to escape her as her eyes darted around while Viserys continued “every feast one of them is invited to, all of them go, whenever one of them is meant to be training at arms, they will all be training it arms, if one of them is studying, all of them will be studying,” he explained, he punctuated each sentence with a slap to the table. A proud smile on his lips as he looked at his wife, his smile soon faded as he noticed the look of disbelief on her face.

“Viserys, you can’t,” she simply stated, attempting to gather words “the boys cannot bare walking past one another!” her voice trembling with worry at what prospect such a decision could create.

“I understand your worry my queen,” he spoke calmly, raising his hand up attempting to dampen her concern “but that is the very reason they must go forth with it.”

Her shoulders slumped in defeat “you’ve already made the decision,” her eyes widen, incredulous when he nodded “without my council, nor Rhaenyra’s, the mothers of the children you’ve decided to make such a ruling on?”

He refused to meet her gaze as he spoke “had I asked for either of your council, I would have realised the true source of this enmity between the children.”

She fell back into her seat, chest falling and rising as she attempted to subdue the growing anger bubbling within her. Her head shaking in pointless refusal before glancing back up at him “I would not wish to question your decisions your grace,” she voiced with forceful respect and acceptance for the decision “but I ask you to allow me the right to choose whom shall help prepare the princes for their duties,” this earned her a wary look from her husband before she continued “I wish for them all to be taught by the best mentors the seven can offer, might I remind you it was I who chose the septa for Helaena and Daenerys.”

The king reluctantly agreed, and she stood up, lips tense as she muttered “Your grace,” before leaving his chambers. He sighed, jaw clenching as one of the figurines shattered to the ground after Alicent slammed the door to his chambers rudely shut.

The three boys awkwardly stood beside one another as they awaited their mentor to offer them their weapons, the fourth boy absent for he was deemed far too young to be trained in the art of the sword. Their mentor was a man with coal black and lush hair, his attire the coveted white of a member of the Kings guard. He approached the boys with three wooden swords in hand, handing it over to Aegon and Aemond while shoving one towards Jace. The boy clutched the blunt blade in his arms, a fearful look on his face as he watched the man walk away.

“I was appointed by the queen to instruct you all to become formidable swordsmen,” he announced, hands resting on the hilt of his wooden blade, his piercing eyes scanning over the three princes “you all may be in your earnest ages but your training will still be harsh, and I am intolerant of any unnecessary weakness displayed by any of you,” he glanced to Jace, eyes sending a message of plain detest “this training is unavoidable, by command of the king,” he felt satisfied when he saw Jace cowering under his gaze “swords up!”

The boys raised their swords, all of them struggled to keep their arms extended as the weight of the swords caused their muscles to ache. The man circled them all, using his wooden sword to adjust their arms “let it be an extension of your arm,” he instructed, swatting away the other hand of Aemond “one hand prince Aemond.” Aemond nodded before raising his sword again, sword extended and arm as steady as possible.

Aegon had a proud smile on his face as he managed to learn quite quickly, the advantage he had did not go unnoticed by the two younger boys, but neither dared voice their opinion on it. Jace was soon to follow in skill, even though he could only observe for Ser Criston neglected to focus on the boy. Aemond seemed to struggle the most out of the three, baring most, if not all of Cristons attention. He swung at the training dummy, grunting as he twisted his wrists in an incorrect manner.

Aegon would notice his brothers struggle, nudging Jace and gesturing for him to watch the boy as he grappled with the wooden sword. The two laughed at his struggle and Aegon shouted to his brother “come on brother! A dragonless Targaryen must learn to fend for himself from the ground,” he yelled, earning a surprised laugh from Jace.

Aemonds face flushed in anger, vexed by his brothers jabs and his nephew’s laughter. He channelled his anger through his swings. Criston gave a quick glance of caution to the boys before advising the irked Aemond “lighter swings my Prince.”

An amused Jace spoke to his uncle “We shouldn’t even be here, what good use is swordsmanship on dragon back?” his words and their laughter did not miss the ears of Aemond.

He halted his movements, sword clenched at his side as he sneered at the muddy ground. Had he looked up at their taunting faces, he would have mistaken them for the wooden dummy before him.

“Did I tell the either of you to stop?” Criston asked prompting them to choke on their teasing laughter. Once they turned away, he gave a reassuring nod to the vexed prince "go on."

Aemond huffed out a shuddered breath, displeased by his reliance on someone else to come to his own defence.

Aegon and Jace from then on did not shy away from making little comments about the slow learning and dragonless boy. Seemingly, the Kings decision served well to bring the boys together, two of them at least.

“That will be all for today,” Criston announced as his eyes jumped about the three boys, not knowing whether to feel disappointed or pleased by their amateur progression. His eyes lingered on Jace, whom this time, had not been bothered by his stare, he was too busy joking with Aegon to notice.

The boys placed their weapons back upon the rack, the dragon keepers waiting to escort them to the dragon pit. Aegon shoved his weapon to his brother “If you could brother,” He spoke, not paying him any mind as he walked away.

Aemond huffed in annoyance at his brothers disregard for him, noting how Jace was quick to follow Aegon. He returned the weapon to its place on the rack and turned to join them. Fell away his annoyance as he saw his brother, his blood, walk away with the dark-haired bastard. Seeing his brother walk away with the boy left Aemond in dejected humiliation. His hands balled up at his sides, feeling the stares of the those that took pity on him.

Criston rested his hand on the tense shoulder of the boy, an attempt of comfort but the boy was quick to shrug away his pity and march off the training grounds. Cristons cold stare did not waver as it followed the two tormenting boys.

As the months passed so continued their endless torment of the boy. Nothing seemed to dampen their teasing remarks to Aemond, whose anger seemed to rise and boil beneath his skin. He slowly began to excel in every teaching they received together, he was swift with his sword and calculating in his movements, he would be prepared for every teaching with their appointed Maester, and courteous to every Lord and Lady he encountered with the other two. To his dismay, it never seemed enough for his brother to stop.

Months after the king enforced the rule upon the boys, Luke joined their sessions and to Aemonds misfortune, he was quick to side with the two wolves that continued to gnaw at him.

He attempted to inform his brother of his detest at how he has been treated these few months. He was given a false assurance that his feelings had been acknowledged, only to have offered Aegon upon a silver platter, another wound to prod at with his sharp words.

He blankly stared ahead of himself, the tome in his lap long forgotten. Fingers digging into the leather binding and oxidised paper. The look in his eyes void of the beaming light of the sun that shone upon the godswood. Lips squeezed in contempt and face still as he marinated in his own anger.

Daenerys was too lost in her own rambling to notice his usual silence lasting far too long. She glanced down at him from the tree crook she settled upon, worry whelmed her as she saw the distant look on his face. Hopping down she called out “Aemond,” a soft grunt escaped her as she landed on her knees against the dry ground, probably scraped them beneath her dress “Aaaaeeemmmooondddd” she drawled out, her voice held a wavering puckishness that fell away when he remained unresponsive. She knelt beside him, an arm around her knees as she tilted her head to get a better look at his face, her hand reached out and rested upon his shoulder and she called out for him again, the note of tenderness seemed to reach him as he glanced up at her “Aemond?”

His jaw rolled as he ducked his head, trying to ease away his anger.

“What has caught your tongue?” she jovially asked, resting beside him “you’ve barely flicked past a single page,” she pointed to the untouched bookmark on the tome. She chuckled as she asked, “I do hope your sessions with the Maester have not granted you someone more interesting than I to read with you,” she frowned when she noticed the sneer that danced across his upper lip. Her lips downturned and she rested her back against the bark of the tree, fingers fiddling with the compass that hung at her hip. The two sat together in a long silence, the girl sighed, the uncomfortable silence felt awkward to her, but she knew he needed a moment to gather himself.

words came together as his thoughts cleared, he asked “your brothers…” her brows knitted at the mention of her young brother “have they ever teased you?”

She was taken aback by the question, an incredulous look on her face as she asked, “what could they possibly tease me for?”

He abruptly interrupted “for not having a dragon, have they ever shamed you for not having a dragon?” He was taken aback by how her face suddenly dropped at the mention of it, dread overcame him as he accused her “They’ve spoken about it to you!” he bolted up from where had sat and looked down at her, the sudden action caused her to tense in fear “Luke and Jace have been ridiculing me to you, and you’ve allowed it?! All these months?” he shouted; voice wavering as he pictured her laughing along with her brothers at his troubles.

Daenerys frowned in confusion, baffled by the conclusion he had so swiftly arrived at. She shot up from the ground and remarked “what? No! I would never!” she exclaimed, but it seemed as though it was not enough, grimacing in shock as she saw him shake his head and begin to walk away from her. She chased after him and stood in his path, growing outraged by the accusation. He turned away from her, rudely giving her his shoulder to speak to “Luke only spoke ill of you once and I gave him AND Jace an earful to make them cease their taunting!” she explained. When she had first heard of her brothers’ jests about Aemond, she was terribly hurt by their barbed words. She was not innocent of poking fun at him either, but she knew that some open wounds were best not to be pried at, Especially with Aemonds fiery temper.

The first she was made aware of her brothers’ insults, she wondered if they had thought the same of her, for she was in the same predicament as the boy they constantly poked fun at.

Her eyes glazed over with the sorrowful sheen of tears “I, out of everyone understand the plight you and I face,” lips twisting as the young girl did her best to maintain her composure “to laugh at a struggle that I understand would make me crueller than Jace, or Luke, or your brother!”

His lips pursed as he pondered her words, hands gripping at his arms as they grew tighter around his chest. His brows knitted as he stared at the cobble floor, giving it instead of her an icy glare.

A shuddered sigh escaped Daenerys “why would you think I’d ever laugh at you for such a thing?” she questioned, fingers brushing over the knuckles of her hand.

“You’re their eldest sibling,” he muttered, his foot digging at the floor beneath him. His gaze slowly moved up the brush across the sky and back to her as she patiently stood at his side, awaiting an answer “younger siblings always learn from their elder sibling.”

She scoffed, her hands breaking away from one another “I would hope not,” she made her way back to the abandoned tree slowly followed by a wary Aemond.

“Why is that?” he asked, his voice now softer, losing the burning harshness.

She was subtle to wipe away the hot tears before turning to face him as she sat down “Imagine! To deal with one Aegon is enough, but two or three!” she jovially exclaimed “I’d be praying to the seven to take me sooner.”

Pleasant surprise splashed away the solemn and cold expression on his face before he laughed along with her.

She sighed in relief upon seeing the smile that tore through his often-dour face. He joined her and sat beside her again, seemingly noticing she awaited a response from him “forgive me for placing blame upon you, it’s just not fair,” he said, his shoulders slumping in sorrow “my brother takes joy in their presence, if I am not the hind of the joke, I am a nuisance.”

Her bottom lip jutted outwards as she pondered “Maybe he won’t realise it now, nor will he realise tomorrow, nor the day after that,” she looked over her shoulder, seeing his sorrow taking grasp of him again, she rested her hand over his, her words laced with sincere warmth “But no friendship compares to that of a brother’s.”

He glanced down to their joined hands, before looking up at her with a child’s sheepishness. She patted his hand “He will come around to realise the joy of your presence, just as I have, with time,” her kind voice assured. She sighed for a moment before proposing “as for my brothers, I will keep watch of them, I will… be sure that next I go archery training… I shall be closer to where you and my brothers commence your sword training.”

His face awkwardly contorted to relief at hearing her assurance, no matter how naïve it may have sounded he held it closely to heart in hopes of it someday coming true. To hope for some day, that he may share a trusting endearment with his neglectful brother.

He fiddled with the edges of his book before asking “Have you thought about your mothers’ question?”

Daenerys chuckled and shook her head “Will there ever be a day that passes where you don’t ask me about that?” she harmlessly chided “Have you ever considered to ask me about my archery skills? I have finally managed to shoot the target and not my father’s foot.”

“It’s an important decision Dany,” he defended setting the book aside before turning to face her. He struggled to understand her evasion, the reason for his endless prying was because it was the one topic, she seemed disinterested in ever discussing with him.

Rolling her eyes, her head fell back against the tree. As much as she had taken joy in his presence, she favoured Helaena’s more, a moment with her was always free from talk of politics. The pestered girl was quick in her remark “A decision which I am a decade away from making!”

The aspect of the throne’s importance was still foreign to her, she knew whom ever sat it ruled the seven kingdoms and was king or queen. She knew its history, she knew of how coveted it was by both noble and low born, but her knowledge of it ended at that.

“If a decade had already passed,” he slowly suggested, his hand quickly reaching for her arm as she began to rise from her place beside him “what would you say?” he curiously questioned, expression silently pleading for her to consider his question.

The bothered Daenerys pouted, as she glared at the unmoved boy. Sighing she stared at the ground, it should have been an easy answer, who would not want to rule the seven kingdoms?

The light squeeze she felt on her arm pulled her away from her short-lived pondering. Her hand reached up to pull at the lobe of her ear “yes?” she answered, wincing as she tugged her ear too hard “A seat so coveted, a responsibility so large, so… powerful, I see no reason to refuse it,” she explained, before looking to him. Shoulders rigid when she was met with what she perceived as doubtfulness from Aemonds eyes. Nails beginning to dig deeper into the delicate flesh of her ear.

Reaching up he pulled her hand away from her ear, clutching it in his hand. She glanced down, lips twisting the side, had the decision been asked of her months earlier, she would have said yes, but now all she could think of was the other option. She looked at him through the corner of her eye, relieved to see the familiar ungraceful grin on Aemonds lips “If it is of any consolation, I think you should say yes,” He was met with a jovial scoff from Daenerys, who tugged her hand away from his and lightly shoved him away. He chuckled at her childish action and justified “Only because I think you’d make for a great queen.”

It was true, for although Aemond had detested the fact that the throne was to be inherited by his half-sister once his father passed. He was more than capable of baring that if it meant Daenerys would success it after her. In his eyes she would make for a memorable queen if the histories were to be kind enough to her. With the right guidance, he believed she may be capable to mend whatever mess her mother would leave for her to manage.

They were aligned once again side by side. Three of them so huddled together that the fourth looked entirely misplaced, as though he had mistakenly stumbled upon the training grounds and was too ashamed to leave. They were also accompanied by Ser Harwin, the commander keeping watch over his trainee archers, but made use of every moment he could sneak a pointed glance over to Rhaenyra’s boys as he watched them neglected by their instructor.

The righteous Ser Criston hands were rested at the hilt of his sword, watching the near piteous swings of his newest pupil, prince Lucerys. He had learned to hide his disgust behind a face tightened by his years of upheld duty untainted by depravity. He tore away his gaze on the boy and towards his favoured pupil, the only who seemed recuperate far quicker than the rest.

“The weapon is an extension of your arm Prince Aemond,” he stated, the young prince turned to look at him attentively “understand that and your swings will be much quicker.”

Aemond sighed, his arm gripped tightly at the wooden sword hanging at his side “my strikes can’t get any weaker Ser Criston.”

Criston walked over to him and turned him towards the dummy again “Strong strikes serve you no good if you don’t know where to use them, and when,” He explained to him, his instruction not reaching the rest of the boys who would have made good use of his instruction “nor will they help you if you are without the speed to avoid the strikes of your opponent.”

His brow scrunched as he listened before nodding and continuing his lighter, yet rapid assaults on the flesh of hay and bone of wood.

“Your opponent will not stick to one place young knights!” Criston yelled as he strode around them all “move around them, evade whatever attacks they intend on making!”

Jace nodded, twirling his blade in his wrist as he prepared himself. The boy latched on to whatever instruction he could gain from the stoic knight, pushing it to its limit until he overhears another instruction not meant for his ears. He and the rest stalked around their opponent and struck every few steps.

Luke would look over to his brother and attempt to mimic his movements, he could mimic his brother all he wished, but he could not mimic his brother’s physical condition which Luke has yet to perfect. His face grew red, and breaths grew rapid as his arm idly hit his opponent. He grimaced as he dropped his hands to his knees, catching his breath.

“Congratulations prince Luke, you’ve been effectively maimed by your opponent,” Criston scolded, restraining the smirk that pulled at his lip upon hearing the laughter of Aemond and Aegon “lift your sword from the ground.”

Luke pouted, huffing as he stood up to face his opponent again, trying to regain motivation to impress the cold Criston, who had not spared the boy a moment unless he had made an understandable mistake for him to reprimand.

To the right of the field Daenerys stood rigid with bow outstretched in hand, clad in a simple blue dress and leather bracers. Behind her was her instructor, wary of each time she let an arrow soar. Daenerys was adamant on learning how to use the ranged weapon, her father was reluctant, and many around her attempted to talk her out of this ambition. Her mother found it odd at first, not many princesses wish to seek to have such a trait in their arsenal. But when honeyed words and charm wore out, her daughter would eventually need another means of protecting herself.

Daenerys found today’s session to be less than fulfilling compared to the rest. While her shots landed somewhere other than the centre of her target -a great improvement compared to her first session- she did not feel the satisfaction of success, for her mind was busied in keeping watch of her brothers and Aemond.

Nobles gathered around to watch the princess, who had gained the vexing title the bungled archer. Curtesy of her dear uncle Aegon.

Aemond would glance over to where she was every now and then, impressed by her improvement, and Light chuckles slipping from him, finding himself amused by how red her face would get whenever another arrow found itself upright on the ground. His sudden spike of happiness did not go unnoticed by Aegon, who glanced between his brother and his dark-haired niece with disgust.

Daenerys snuck a quick glance over her shoulder while she drew back another arrow. She saw Aegon gesture to Aemond while muttering something to Jace and Luke, both laughed but froze when they saw her piercing lilac eyes warn them to seize their laughter. Jace nudged his brother to quiet down before the two moved away from Aegon.

Aegon noticed them retreating further and further away. He followed their gaze and noticed the warning look their sister had given them. His nostril flared as he huffed, irritated by her presence. He glanced around the training grounds and noticed how everyone seemed to have their attention on her, the bastard girl graced with a feature special enough to distract them all from the plain obvious.

 He stalked towards his brother, leaning over his shoulder. A bewildered Aemond tensed, leaning away from his brother who had a menacing grin on his face “You think archery will be enough for her to protect herself? Should we invite our dear niece to join us in our training as well?” he spoke gesturing towards her with his head. Aemond looked at her from the corner of his eye, wary of what words would leave his brother next “Those eyes aren’t capable of protecting her from what mortal perils lie on the ground,” his taunting smile grew wider as he saw his brother turn to him, a silent message of caution emanating from his icy blue eyes “I heard there are people in the world that want to pluck them, right. Out.”

An irked Aemond forcefully stepped forward, away from his looming brother that stumbled back from the force of his movement. Aegon chuckled walking back to his station, merrily twirling his sword.

The action did not go unnoticed by the watchful Daenerys. She could only imagine what the exchange was about to cause such a response from Aemond. Adjusting her grip on her bow she breathed in.

“This is your last shot for the day princess Daenerys,” her annoyingly stoic instructor spoke, arms across his chest as he told “narrow your focus.”

She frowned in worry before shaking away every other possible bother. Stance open and arrow arm loose as she drew back the nock of her arrow against the string of her bow. ‘Just this one shot, just one shot, please!’ she pleaded, eyes focused on the bright red dye at the centre of her target. It was as though every failed attempt faded away as she restated her goal time and time again. She released the nock of her arrow and allowed it to find its path.

Her face softened with hope, the moment she let go, her body relaxed from its rigidity and her bow fell to her side. It was like a ray of sun cutting through a cloudy day when a bright smile tore across her face. The arrow once in her grip, was now protruding from the red dot of her target. She turned to look at her instructor, who had met her with a look of stifled pride.

She was alerted by applause coming from around her, the young princess was bashful upon seeing the noble men and women applauding her success around her. she bowed her head in appreciation before handing her bow to her instructor. Her brothers startled her as they gathered around her.

“You finally did it!” Lucerys yelled, jumping for joy as he pointed towards the target.

Jacaerys squeezed her arm “Father made a mistake not coming today.”

She shrugged before joking “maybe he’s been the cause of my shortcomings,” Her joke garnered laughter from her younger brothers. Glancing away from them she had noticed the approaching nobles and realised she had another important duty to attend to. She was not keen on another teaching from Septa Olera, she was only in a rush to avoid the prodding eyes of the Lords and Ladies “I’ll see the both of you at dinner!” She told her brothers, giving the two light pats to their heads before rushing past them.

As she dodged and weaved between the men and women, yelling quick thank you’s as she ran past. She regrettably had to run past Aemond as well, whom wanted to congratulate her “Dany, yo-“

She turned to face him as she walked back towards the stair “I’ll speak with you later Aemond!” she offered him a quick smile before rushing up the stairs.

His arms fell to his side, saddened by her dismissal. He continued practicing his strikes, his guard returned, Daenerys was no longer present to thwart her brothers taunting of Aemond.

Aegon glared at the faces of the dispersing crowd, who had not even bothered to gather around him after Daenerys departed the training grounds. Their disinterest caused his blood to boil, all she had done was shoot a toothpick through a cotton plate.

“Back to your stations Princes!” Ser Criston called out; he found the crowding of the princess unnecessary. Such a simple discipline archery was, he called the weapon of cowards. Too scared to get close enough to a fight. It was the art of the sword that should have garnered that attention.

The man returned to his attentiveness of Aegon and Aemond. Luke and Jace had eventually stopped their practice and simply watched. Criston had not cared enough to notice. Jacaerys had grown to find it irritating, himself and Lucerys were barely advancing in their training.

Lucerys took matters into his own hands once, he thought the knight had perceived him as too weak and slow. The looming shadow of wanting to be better, pushed him to take Cristons Morningstar, wanting to take swing at that weapon instead. The boy nearly knocked his own head off his shoulders, had the stone walls surrounding the training grounds not caught the weapon. From then on, the shadow of Ser Harwin strong seemed to linger inconspicuously in the training grounds.

Harwin would not shy away from sending disapproving glares towards their neglectful instructor. He whistled to the two boys, gaining the attention of Jacaerys. He gave a quick nod towards Cole before turning his back to them.

Jacaerys turned to look at his instructor, attempting to gather the will to ask “Ser Criston?” he gulped when he was met with the intense stare of the knight “What can we do?” He asked, puffing up his chest, he was a prince why should he be so unnerved by a king’s guard? “My brother and I have been doing for months what prince Aegon and Aemond have been doing in a week.”

Aemond had his back to them, his brow arching up as he smirked to himself. He heard Aegon whining, mocking the two boys. He did not hide the laughter that omitted from him.

Ser Criston hummed “My teachings have proven effective so far, young prince.”

“I do not plan on challenging a tree to a dual Ser Criston,” His bluntness startled him, but he kept his head high.

Cristons smugness fell away, instead it was replaced by the familiar jaded expression “very well, let us test your skill, shall we?” he turned to look at Aegon “Prove to me you can best Aegon and both you and your brother may ascend to my next teaching.”

Aegon was startled, glancing to the young boy. Aegon was at a great advantage, but eventually took the opportunity to place at least one of the Velaryons in their place. He swung his sword around as he approached the frightened Jacaerys “Come Jace! You needn’t worry, this will take me only a few moments.”

As their swords clashed it was clear that Jacaerys attentive ear was of great use to him, their prowess was nearly similar. Had it not been for Aegons height, their skill would have been identical. Jacaerys struck with force, while Aegons actions were erratic, he was stunned by the boy’s strength.

His presumption of Jacaerys weakness cost him, he was so stunned he had not noticed that his sword had been knocked out of his grip. He was awakened from his stupor by the young boys bellowing laughter of victory.

Jacaerys turned to look at his brother who mirrored his joy. He turned to look back at Aegon, hoping for a pat on the back, thinking the older prince to be a good sport about his loss. Instead, he was tackled to the ground, he was quicker to awareness than his opponent, fighting back against the furiously humiliated boy. An event the queen would be quick to latch on once she receives word of it.

Ser Criston was not quick to pry the two off one another. Aegon stumbled back, a quivering sneer on his lips. Glancing around him, attention returned to him at the worse moment, the judging stares of the crowd piercing into him. he could have sworn that the face of his mother appeared at least ten times as he looked around.

Such a childish display from the eldest of the young princes.

He cut through the unmoving crowd, marching swiftly to his chambers. He thought he had grown accustomed to the disapproving glares and painful criticisms of his mother, but to feel it ten-fold was something he had never expected himself to face. Never a moment was he seen at his best, always at his worst.

As he passed through the shadowed edges of the courtyard, he heard the sound of what he perceived was the goading laughter of the cause of his greatest woes. Daenerys Velaryon sat beside his sister, laughing to her hearts content, while he was made to fall to a shadow, she had never been in. whatever thought of rationality had drowned in the boiling water of years of anger and jealousy. His hand, as though with a will of its own, reached for the hilt of the dagger strapped to his hip. Such turmoil this day had been for him, and such a lingering putrid taste it would leave in his mouth, so he had to wash it out somehow.

Helaena had a pitiful smile as she watched Daenerys struggle to complete her embroidery, or even start it for that matter. She was hunched over, embroidery held closely to her face as she worked.

“Your hand is shaking too much, stop clenching the needle too much!” she attempted to reach for the needle only to have her hand gently swatted away.

“Septa Olera will notice that you’ve helped me on my embroidery Helaena,” She explained.

“How?” she questioned curiously.

She scoffed before resting the embroidery on her lap “all she’ll have to search for is perfection and discipline.”

“Let me at least tie off your thread at the start!” she urged.

Daenerys sighed and handed it over to her. She rested her hands on her cheeks as she leaned on her knees, peering over to see Helaenas work. She frowned when she saw her swap out the blue thread she had been using “My thread…”

“It’s frayed Dany, let’s use one of mine! Septa Olera always admires it, she’ll be sure to give you the same admiration!” she spoke credulously.

Daenerys found Helaena’s unwary demeanour terribly reassuring, never hid her intent, and never seemed to hold an ill one. It had taken her weeks to grow accustomed to it and eventually it became the greatest reason for her to view her aunt as a great friend to keep.

Helaena pulled out her favourite red thread, poking it through the needle before beginning her work “Break away a branch of red…” her soft voice spoke, but her words had not slipped the curious ears of Daenerys, she pierced the back of the fabric and looped back to pierce it again. Creating a small loop at the back of it, she pierced the fabric a third time and passed the thread through the loop “charging towards…” she pulled the thread and closed the loop around it “a dances end.”

She presented it to the confounded Daenerys, it was the only downside to her friendship with Helaena. The curious sentences she would mutter every now and then irked Daenerys for she would never be capable of deciphering any of Helaenas often concerning riddles.

Her surroundings petered out as she fell to the constant daze she’d go into after hearing one of Helaenas riddles. A sharp tug at her hair tore a shrill scream of horror from her throat. She tried to pull away, but her attacker kept a tight grasp of the handful of hair he had kept in his grip. Hair so long it reached her lower back, she took so much pride in the head of hair she had been born with.

The tugging had suddenly ended, and she collapsed to the stone ground in front of her, her cheek and palms scraping against it. The blood trickling from the scrape on her cheek and brow, and the burning of her palms seemed to not be of concern once she noticed the long tufts of hair landing around her. The braid that hung from the back of her head was now on the ground in front of her. Her lips began to quiver as she sat on her knees. As it dawned upon her, she turned to look at her attacker, who laughed at her state.

“Aegon!” Helaena cried out in shock.

Aegon clutched his chest as he cackled. Many began to gather around, gasping in horror upon seeing the sight, all of them looming over. The mortified princess stared at the locks of hair in her attackers’ hand with beating dread in her wide eyes, sobs beginning to build within her chest. Heart hammering in her ears as she began to shrink away. Her heavy tears began to pour so much that had she not been focused on understanding why he would do such a thing; she would fear that she would drown herself in her own sorrow.

“A few more cuts Dany, and we’ll get rid of everything else strong about you.”

One of the lords stepped forward, reaching down to the terrified girl, pitying her state “princess Daenerys… let me take you to your mother,” his hands slowly resting on her shoulders.

Like a dear running at the sound of a snapping twig she bolted out of the courtyard, the sound of her cries following her. Her once long dark hair, now a mess of length. She had evaded every one of the guards and nobles she encountered and disappeared into the red keep. Stumbling into the secret dark corridor she had accidentally found one day; the darkness of the corridor repelled her from making it a common place to visit. But her feet seemed to guide her straight into it.

Shutting the door behind her she shook her head, glancing to the left and the right of the ill-lit corridor. She rushed towards the sight of two rays of light, falling beside the worn window, and scurrying to the wall, curling up against it. The exhilaration of the run combined with the trepidation inflicted upon her by Aegon’s Malicious actions, threw the poor girl into a panic. Her face blemished by the anguish of it all, heart beating at a rate the rest of her body found it difficult to catch up with. Her limbs limp around her as she fought against this foreign feeling. The sound of drops hitting the cold cobblestone caught her currently frenzied attention.

Her finger tapping for each second that passed before the next drop of water splashed on the small puddle it had formed.

Eight seconds she had counted. Gathering her courage, she gulped and pushed herself up and against the wall, head leaning against the cold stone as she fought to regain control of her body. Heaving in a deep breath of air, for a moment it felt as though it had all cleared, but her breath hitched at the interrupting sound of the splash. With that she let out a shuddered exhale, finding a calming rhythm. Collecting herself with every eight seconds.

Her legs straight ahead of her, Staring ahead of herself as she tugged at her ear, she found it difficult to reach for her hair, every time she had, another strand of hair would find itself in her hand. it was not a clean cut; she could still feel the painful tension of his tugging on her scalp. It had not helped that the thoughts of why he would do such a thing to her began to beat against the wall of her skull.  With every possible reason that was denied, she eventually had to succumb to the fact that the reason of why, was to her dismay: unknown.