#Luke is very mean to his father

[sillyromance]

Good day everyone!

As I said I don't know everything about Star Wars. But I did some research about my favourite character - and I just had to write about it. So, this story is absolutely imaginary - and it is quite different from the original movies.

However, I hope you enjoy!

WARNING: long writing, OOC, angst, father/son conflict, hurt/comfort; Pred!Darth Vader/Prey!Reader. Also, some of the words(youth and maid) have their old meaning: youth - young man, maid - young woman.

Light in the dark

Luke was sitting on the specular floor of an empty hall - in front of a large ship's window; stars sparkling like specks of diamond dust were thrown all around the black fabric of cosmic sky. Pinkish and blue smoke of nebulas sent pastel-colour flashes over its dark deepness, staying frozen and cold, as if they were just somewhat alien flowers on photographs from a biology book. Watching their foggy petals peacefully blooming behind the thick glass young Jedi felt strange pain eating his insides, his heart annoyingly numbing. The boy's eyes was searchingly scanning the universe as if there was something very important lost among white dots of foreign planet systems.

Suddenly, discernment of his senses escalated. The boy mentally felt someone's presence long before his ears signaled about heavy mechanical footsteps far away in the corridors. It was easy to recognise this fast, determined pace; Luke instantly recalled the wind created by a long black cloak wavering in the air - and saw the lines of an ugly mask covering no less ugly face...

Darth Vader entered the room after five minutes or so. It was undeniable that he knew - his visit wasn't unnoticed, although his son didn't even turn to him, still keeping their pretty young eyes on the galaxies swirling before them. Luke Skywalker would never submit to him or Palpatine. Exactly as he always predicted. Anakin inside the cyborg's dying body was proud like any good father would be. The worst part was that the boy who considered himself cursed with his parent didn't even know how great Vader had to struggle to keep his own suffering in secret. Vader was seen only like a traitor and a terrorising danger for any living being...

But there was too much hidden away. And even his son couldn't know all the truth because he would try to force him to Jedis' side - the twist Vader couldn't afford to make for he had lost faith into any faction. It was better to let things be as they were. Anakin was too old to start from the beginning...

The figure approached Luke, now holding back its rush - and stood still when there was ten steps between them. The Jedi was grateful for his "dad" didn't dare to close the distance - the young man would hate this person to be near him. Not after everything that abomination did. Not after what he did to Padme...

Although... It would be bad to push Vader away too. After all, he was trying. It was impossible to stay unaware about Darth's attempts to do anything to provide his offspring with all the youth needed. Sometimes, Luke thought about it while lying in his bedroom. He felt pity for the man - if it was still a man - especially because the boy remembered why Anakin became what he became.

But... Was it Anakin?..

Silence was interrupted by muffed sound of breathing coming from the mask and creaking of leather gloves.

- Is there something bothering you, son?

Rich, husky voice filled Skywalker Jr's head. He heard calmness and care in its boomy tone which, however, made him only raise his shoulders up, protecting himself from that love he didn't seek at all.

- That's nothing to worry about.

Vader exhaled louder than usually.

- I can sense it even if you lie to me - what you have managed to improve a lot since you're here, Luke... - He paused; sound of his breathing started getting on the youth's nerves. - Please... Tell me. I need to know.

The boy grunted. He finally looked at his father, his gaze mean and defiant as Luke examined every inch of the thick cobalt armour.

"Interesting... How much does it hurt to wear this horrifying suit every day?.. I hope it's enough to never forget how his wife died... And others too..."

- There is no use. You won't be able to understand...

- It's not your problem. I just need it.

Young man stared at the colorful lamps blinking chaotically on the Darth Vader's costume. Anakin could recognise a conflict rising behind the facade of an unnaturally still, neutral expression his son put on. This made his corrupted heart itch with faint, sweet pain; at least, there was already a small victory - the boy didn't say no right away second time.

Finally, Luke spoke again, his face softening.

- Come here.

Dark commander obeyed. Now the Jedi could see only countless belts on his high boots and a piece of the cloak. The cloth smelled like... Death: blood, fire, ash, sweat and other unpleasant signs of war...

Did he even try to wash this nasty stink off for once?..

- Do you promise to keep your judgement for yourself if I do?

Although Luke didn't lift his head up, he was sure Vader gave him a look.

- ...Whatever you wish for.

- Good.

The boy turned to the window again; at that moment there was an explosion of acid-green snakes pointing their greedy maws in all directions. Their blind, blunt muzzles looked funnily pathetic.

- Just before you took me as your personal prisoner... - Luke started, making a visible accent on two last words. - The faction was joined by a very young girl. She was even younger than me. There were not so many warriors to find at least one who could properly teach her to fight - I don't say that she wasn't familiar with a saber at all. Regardless... Her technique was terrible. I took her as a student, but... She is now alone due to I'm, her master, is here. And I'm worried she can get into trouble with some of yours...

Vader felt a pang of guilt knocking into his soul when he received the shot addressed to him. His son's cruelty hit him hard no matter the time or place - and he knew he deserved it. However, every punch in the guts made him feel deeply betrayed. Anger arose inside, and Anakin clenched his fist, preparing himself for a fight...

He watched as the boy did the same. Naturally, his gaze fell on the Luke's wrist and... He slowly eased the grip. A thin line separating human flesh and a prosthesis shone with soft silver light, reminding of their previous collision in all details...

Vader didn't want to go through that once more.

- At first, you're not a prisoner here. - He hissed, stepping away; the boy could catch genuine sorrow even through the noise of the modulator. - And next... I'm sorry to hear your sympathies are still with Jedies. I don't blame you, though. The time will come.

Unsatisfactory and resentment which had been constantly growing through these past month instantly burst out of the child in a desperate cry:

- Don't you see!? IT WILL NEVER COME!!! - Luke jumped on his feet, backing out of the black man. - You... Murderer...

His mind was blurred by immeasurable fury which hindered him to feel change in his father's emotional state. Vader stood, crooked, firmly grinding his teeth and invisibly clenching his chest as if someone cut him open. But very soon, he straightened up.

- Very well, Luke... Very well...

Darth Vader turned on his heels and headed to the door, but as he had to go through the gap, something made the commander to wait.

- Do you love her? That girl?

The question hanged in tensed atmosphere of the space. Luke leisurely wiped saliva flew out of his mouth when he shouted, and sniffed, a weak smile forming on his lips. Now he looked unbelievably similar to his father in the latter's young years.

- No. We are just friends... Well... Good friends. I love her like I love Leia.

Anakin nodded. Avoiding his son's intent gaze, Vader walked out; and while passing through the deem halls of the ship, he was once again turning into alive representation of horror which gloved hands grabbed the universe by its throat...

Changing skin, he bled.

........

Y/N didn't expect to meet him in such a short time, especially after she lost her mentor. But there he was; Darth Vader himself stood a few metres away from her, holding his red light saber. She couldn't help but flinched at his enormous height and brawny body. Personally, she was the shortest even among her allies many of whom didn't stand out by an impressive body complexion - the little Jedi was like nothing more but a doll comparing to him...

As for her comrades: two of them weren't so far from here. But, surely, they couldn't handle this ruthless beast even if they all would work together. Dark commander was way too strong. So, she sent them a message to run. Y/N wasn't sure they would follow her instructions... But at least, they had a chance to escape during these few minutes she could buy them before Vader would kill her.

At the meantime, guided by childish curiosity, she studied the one she was told so many blood-curdling stories about. Inky cloak covering wide, thick shoulders; solid torso with a big panel set on it - bright lights twinkling in the orange fog; long gloves, boots... The part of him which intimidated her the most was his visors. She was used to look her opponents directly in the eyes, but this icy, stable gaze was so inhuman that the Jedi could hardly bear it.

- I feel your fear... - Her heart sank as she heard him for the first time, the girl being hypnotized by that low, gravelly baritone. - Why opposing me just by yourself? Or are your friends such cowards that they won't help you defeat me?..

He took one step forward; she activated her own sword and struck a defensive pose.

At that moment, they both were taken off guard by a roar of a space shuttle's engines. Y/N sighed in relief; the ship took off and quickly disappeared in the night sky, heading to the base where her friends would be safe... And leaving her behind.

"Well, even if it's not me, I'm happy. They will survive..."

- Sneaky, brave fool... - Shaking violently, she turned to her enemy once more. He didn't move, but something inside her told Y/N that he was ready for a leap. - What a shame. You made a fatal mistake, sending them away. Such inexperienced and young girl like you is no match for me, don't you understand?..

- Perhaps. - She responded, carefully watching Vader and preparing for his attack. - At least, I'll do what I can. And if I die, so be it. My teacher once said that there was no better death than a death for a right thing.

The cyborg tittled his head on a side like a dog listening to its owner. The girl would giggle if her existence wasn't on the table at that very minute.

- Who told you that?

Y/N bit her lip, not being certain if it was OK to reveal the name. After a proper consideration, she found there was nothing left to lose for her anyway...

The Jedi cleared her throat; the tongue felt dry and hot as she spoke, her angelic voice being slightly brittel.

- Luke Skywalker.

If there was a witness - an average person who had never heard of war and the force - they would notice nothing. Vader simply kept his position, his awful mask turned to the girl. However, the latter sensed much. And the main thing was that Vader... Knew her.

The Jedi recognised chills wandering over her entire body. She couldn't remember what she managed to do to provoke someone so powerful to trail her. Despite this, Y/N seemed to be guilty for somewhat crime that made the plague of the universe, Lord Darth Vader memorise a little maid who hadn't seriously harmed anyone yet in her entire life...

- I see... - He finally sighed. The girl wasn't sure, but she thought she could hear regret in his quiet, rumbling voice. - That is a great warrior of your kind...

He shrugged his shoulders, trying to lay the cape on them in a more comfortable position.

- Then, let's see if your master has given you anything more than just some inspirational quotes...

Y/N gasped; she was deadly close to missing the second he jumped forward. Luckily, she awakened just in time and instead of the girl's flat chest Vader's saber met the blue laser light.

They fought almost in ringing silence; her accidental squelches and his scarry, sick breath were the only sounds ruining it. She immediately saw that she wouldn't last long with the pace her enemy had chosen; his harsh, but accurate movements were very difficult to block. Y/N didn't even try to switch her tactics to offensive one since she didn't possess enough time to reply on his endless thrusts. The Jedi spinned like a peg-top in attempts to stay alive a bit longer; fortunately, that time her diminutiveness played along with her interests. Although, neither small size, nor dexterity could protect her from small cuts Vader gifted her with here and there from time to time.

At last, the maid was able to give herself space to swallow some fresh air. She got exhausted; her arms refused to serve her any longer as well as legs. Y/N had to strain all the will she owned to stay straight. The man, however, was literally tireless - while Y/N was ready to collapse right at the stones of the square where they spared, the half-metal abomination she stood against looked like he did just before the battle. He, unbothered by her maneuver, vigorously decreased the space between them, distinctly showing that he was about to finish the annoying little fly disturbing him from much more important businesses.

That was it. Pushed to the edge, the girl threw all her cautiousness away and ran towards him, using her last opportunity; unpredictable behaviour and pure desperation. Their blades crossed again with electrical buzzing, spreading sparks all around the place; the warriors got as close as two people who sincerely hate each other could be. Y/N courageously stared right in the shallow spheres of Vader's visors, sweating as her tiny palms sored, holding a heavy saber and a weight of an adult man pushing on it with all his might.

- It's over, Jedi. - He said silently.

Before Y/N could do anything he sharply kicked her knee; the girl being paralysed by the abrupt pain weakened the grip and lost her weapon, falling right to the Vader's feet.

He was correct. It was over.

She expected him to cut off her head immediately. Instead, the man rose his hand and Y/N detected the force washing around her limbs and neck. It soon became hard to breathe. Struggling in the stealthy net of unconditional power, she granted her adversary one last look. His fuzzy, pitch black silhouette and a round slice of the moon in a vail of ochre evaporations on the background created the last image which popped out into her suffocating mind as the dizziness led her to unconsciousness...

.......

When Y/N came to her senses, there first things she found were humidity and darkness; the latter was so deep that it took time for the girl to understand that she wasn't asleep anymore. Then the Jedi sighted that she was in a tube. Slippery and soft material had been periodically tightening around her and dragging her being somewhere down into the endless abyss. There was warm; although the girl got constantly squeezed from head to toe, she didn't feel bad about it. Actually, it reminded her of a hearty hug which her mother gave her when Y/N was standing at the doorstep of their home, ready to go for her destiny. This memory brought a smile across the maid's pretty face.

She was alive. It was undiscussable like the fact that sand in her lands was yellow. However, even God wouldn't be able to say why Darth Vader let her live. Also it was a mystery where the girl really was and why she was travelling downwards....

The tugs pulling her further and further into obscurity were accompanied by wet, short sounds which were surprisingly similar to... swallowing. It appeared like an unknown large creature devoured her whole, although such idea seemed too crazy to be the truth. Nevertheless, there were no other options. Y/N's mind was still drowsy which prevented the Jedi from panicking. Moreover - if the hypothesis was right, then she could do nothing; the tense grip of the fleshy tube and its slick surface didn't give her any chance to struggle successfully.

However, the fall didn't last long: quite soon Y/N was pushed into a bigger room which was still dark but much cozier. Some kind of liquid splashed underneath the girl as she arrived, though it didn't bother her much due to her clothes and hair had already been soaked with viscous slime in and out. The walls churned gently against her skin, massaging her stiffed muscles; faint gurgling and rhythmic "thump-thump" sound vibrating all around proved that the girl had sent her thoughts in a right direction.

Y/N pawed her waist but... predictably, she found nothing. The saber was gone, lost... it ment that if the whoever had eaten her didn't let the Jedi out by themselves, she wouldn't be released at all. A new wave of fear fulfilled her soul; she clearly imagined the process of slow, racking digestion preparing endless hours of agony for her to experience. The little Jedi curled into a ball, trembling; that's not what she thought her meaning for the world would be.

- Are you awake, Jedi? Good. I missed your company.

The words resonated in every cell of her velvet cage. Her eyes widened as the girl recognised the speaker.

- Can't be... How... - She mumbled sheepishly in confusion, looking around the stomach with so puzzled face expression as if she didn't do that a minute ago.

- Shrinking shouldn't have done you any damage.

Her heart skipped a beat.

- Are you... Still scared?

Of course, he read her emotions as if she was just an open book... No one could resist Darth Vader's force for long. It was pointless to hide or play with him. So, Y/N didn't: she laid back on the bouncy floor, letting its receptors explore her body, and lowered her eyelids.

- I am.

She thought he would laugh at her honesty, but it seemed that day Vader was up to break all her expectations: the man stayed mute. His quiet pulse and breath - here it sounded a little bit different than from the outside: it seemed as if Vader had to lift a rock with every inhale he did - were calm and somehow reassuring.

- Can I ask you something, your majesty?

Vader only hummed in response, giving her a permission to go on, though he knew the question long ago.

- Why?

She couldn't see it, but Anakin smiled. His helmet was still off; his eyes sored, burning like they were immersed in acid, and lungs scarcely contracted; however, his small internal guest's naive tone extremely amused him. He wasn't surprised his son adored this little maid.

- You haven't been involved in anything that would mean danger to me personally; and you're a too feeble to influence the situation in general. There is no worthy reason I should seek for your death.

- But...

- Just relax. I'm not going to harm you. What's done... It's done for your own good.

The adrenaline began to wear off. Y/N, slightly shivering as her nerves was settling down, instinctively snuggled more into the pillowy wrinkles of the organ which caused some mild-mannered growls. Tears of relief formed in the corners of her eyes. She couldn't believe Darth Vader talked to her like that; from what she knew about the dark commander, such kindness was basically impossible in his case...

Meanwhile, she felt as one of the walls leaned to her side, the muscles rubbing gently against her skin.

- There we go... It's OK. Of course, you were scared. But it's OK. Now, there is no threat to you...

His hand was pressed against the spot where the Sith could sense her presence. He had to put the mask on its place - Anakin couldn't longer endure the choking feeling growing in his chest with every new breath he took - and, after setting up some filters, watched as grey twilights were giving birth to the beautiful, lucid dawn. He heard his tiny prisoner's crying, but the comfort he provided her with seemed to work; after some time, the Jedi calmed down. Continuing to stroke his middle with the force - unfortunately, pleasures of non-verbal contact was lost for him decades ago - and making sure the girl felt it, he said:

- To be fair, I'm impressed. You held on much longer than I supposed you would... Luke did teach you something, after all...

Y/N being lulled by the lights touch and the man's mesmerising voice was almost asleep when these commentaries reached her ears. In order to that, she thought little while responding. Yawning, she mumbled, gently kneading alive "matras" beneath:

- With all do respect... I... I won't betray Jedies...

This was the last sentence coming out of her mouth before she started snoring peacefully, being completely drawn out of energy.

Vader chuckled.

"I would never doubt it, my brave little foe".

............

Luke Skywalker was in his quarters when he was reported that his father had just returned from a mission. The boy patiently waited before the soldier would come out and then - fell on his bed, hiding the face in cushions. Such moments were the worst part of his staying with Siths because he knew what kind of "missions" his father participated in. Gallons of his comrades' blood smeared Vader's hands. If all the people Vader killed would turn into ghosts, the ship would get crowded with them like a market square.

However, he had to greet Anakin in the main hall - that ritual was mandatory.

So, the boy obliged himself to stand up.

He was preparing himself for the meeting when, suddenly, he heard a quiet, but firm knock. The force was too difficult to recognise.

- Come in...

Not a man - a shadow slipped in the room and freezed in the centre. Despite strange look of the visitor, Luke seemed to cheered up by their arrival.

- My dear friend... - He gave the shadow a good pat.

But they had to be cautious. The Jedi walked to the gap his pal went through - and peeped outside, making sure no one had been following the intruder. Then he locked the door.

One of the few things Luke was grateful to his father for was lack of video-cameras in the boy's part of the space ship. Although, the were regular spies watching every his step, but even the most skilled spy can be deceived... And so, Luke had this unspoken opportunity. Undeniably, all the responsibility was on him only; nevertheless, he was ready to take the risk.

In order to that, he was always aware of what his allies were up to.

The shadow man respectfully bowed to the Jedi and leaned to the latter's ear, whispering inaudibly. Luke's face went sober.

- Are you sure?

The guest confirmed.

- Crap... - Skywalker Jr. slammed his palm with a fist. His lips turned white. - ... Did anyone...?

After receiving a negative gesture, the Jedi's pale sheeks got poured with blush.

- Blessing to the Gods...

Luke's face got even happier as he caught the last phrase said by his signalman.

- Oh, my dear... You have no idea what great news you have brought today!.. The lose of the planet is undoubtedly critical - I'm mourning with all our brothers and sisters about the lives which costed to protect it for so long... But... But she, my beloved pupil is found!.. Thank you very much for your assistance - I promise, I won't ever forget how hard you have always served us...

The shadow bowed again, that time a little lower. Then a long, thin, bare-boned arm appeared from under the folds of the cloak and pointed on the boy's wrist where the watches could be seen. Luke swatted his forehead in frustration.

- Damn... I'm almost late! Sorry, my friend - I definitely have do go before my every day nightmare suspected anything... You can't stay as well - let me uncover the way... Come on, come on...

The youth rushed to one of the walls and opened a tiny shield concealing some secret buttons only he and his father knew about. The sensors was set up to react solely to Luke's touch - one more reason for the boy to continue normal relationships with his dad - that way, no one could activate the mechanism unless a person had a piece of Skywalker's hand. The Jedi harshly dialed the password and one of the walls parted on two, revealing a narrow corridor illuminated with red lamps on the seiling.

- Get in! Fast!..

The shadow didn't make Luke ask twice - the visitor sank in with no extra hesitation, getting lost in a trice, consumed by the surroundings. Luke didn't have time to guide him; overall, his friend knew where that way led and what to do once they were out. Being sure the guest would leave the ship without a single trouble, the boy finished his outfit and went out, heading for the main dec.

Darth Vader had been already waiting for him there.

- Good day, father. Well? How did it go? Can I congratulate you with a new victory? - He shouted with a smile which was half sincere... But only for a half.

- You can. - The Lord's tone sounded kinda apathetic as if he was speaking about nothing important. - Many thanks, Luke. Did anything happen while I was away?

- Not really... - The boy said, scratching his head. - Well, two soldiers tried to destroy each other for some reason. I haven't digged in this much. Both are in jail now...

Luke could swear Anakin rolled his eyes behind the mask.

- I see. Tell the tribunal officer I'll deal with them later... There is still work to do...

- Sure thing.

The task was complete; the youth granted his father a sweet grin (a little too sweet to be honest). The dark commander was about to go, but something made him to change his mind.

- But first of all... Go after me.

A storm was coming. Skywalker Jr. subconsciously got into the battle mode. The duo crossed the hall and took a direction to the Luke's apartments. While on the way, the boy was preying to all the saints he knew.

"How could father be possibly aware? Counting on my watches, the envoy should have been already departed. I really hope he hasn't been captured... Though, my private passage doesn't connect to any of the official ones... The landing pod also belongs just to me...

What do I miss?.."

By the time he ended up his inner monologue, he and Anakin had reached their destination. Once at the place, Vader continued.

- I think I have something to hand over...

Feeling coolness expanding in his chest, the youth watched louringly as his father put a hand in a pocket and then pulled it out, having something squeezed inside.

- They wanted me to give it right in your hands...

Luke's world fell apart like a glass ball when he took a small golden medallion representing an artistically forged figure of a dolphin. He slowly blinked in shock; his feet were weak as if they were made of cotton wool. All the good mood he had was literally smashed my the view of his little student's only jewellery - the one they decided to use for communication. If Vader had it, then...

But the ambassador said...

Or did his friend mistaken...

Only now, Luke heard footsteps tailing off; Vader being nowhere around.

- WAIT! - Luke yelled, flying out of the room. He noticed the flash of a coal-colour cloak floating just before him and started a chase. - Wait, hey you!!!..

Anakin turned back. He confidently, softly looked at his pissed off child who was ready to chop his wires into spaghetti.

The weight in his belly shifted - the girl must be turning around. Bad dreams...

- Be proud, son. She is a true Jedi.

[unfinishedslurs]

The boy stops in his tracks. “I know you,” he says, tilting his head curiously. He’s not tall, but he’s regal nonetheless, dressed all in white. Something about him makes Leia’s hair stand on end, and although she hides it she feels a stirring in her own chest. I know you like I know my own soul, she thinks wildly, and wonders where it came from. Has she gone insane?

“That’s nice,” she says, and shoots him anyway.

He deflects it in a flash of light, a glowing blue laser sword appearing in his hand like magic. She’s only seen one of those before, and it’s Vader’s. If this boy is anything like Vader, she realizes, she’s in deep shit.

She’s smart enough to know when she’s outmatched. Leia makes the tactical decision to run for her life.

Later, as she’s getting the hell out of there, she wonders why he didn’t try to stop her.

She remembers being young and tugging on her mothers skirts, demanding to know why their guest was so sad. “Does he not like it here?” She’d asked, and then, trembling, because Kenobi always seemed saddest around her. “Is it…because of me?”

“Oh, Leia,” her mother sighed, lifting her into her arms. “It’s not that, I promise.”

“Then what is it?”

“Master Kenobi lost a child under his care, years ago.” Breha’s eyes grew deeper, darker. “It was not his fault, but he blames himself. You remind him of that child, that’s all.”

Leia had quieted at that, contemplative.

The next time she’d seen Master Kenobi, she had given him a hug. He didn’t seem to know what to do with that, so she resolved to give him more of them. “He’s lonely,” she’d told her mother. “No one should be lonely.”

Looking at Obi-Wan Kenobi now, the memory seemed so far away. He’d aged thirty years in the ten it had been.

He looks, Leia thinks with a small twinge of regret, very lonely.

“Leia,” he greets. “It’s been a long time.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Leia sees a glint of white.

Kenobi freezes in his tracks. “Luke?” He whispers, and through the distance Leia can hear it as if he’d been speaking directly into her ear.

Master Kenobi lost a child under his care, her mother whispers in her head. He blames himself.

In an instant, Leia understands everything.

Kenobi is still staring at the boy he’d lost so long ago when Vader cuts him down.

Later, as she’s pacing around on the Falcon to Han muttering darkly about Princesses and supernatural abilities, she rememberers the way the boy collapsed, as if all his strings had been cut. Vader was too occupied with him to even look at her as she shot at him desperately.

Luke. She hates him more than she hates herself.

“They know where you are,” he hisses frantically. “They’re coming for you. You have to run.”

“Wait!” Leia quickly pulls up their sonar. Nothing yet, but it would explain the distant queasiness she’d felt since they’d landed. She tended to trust her gut. “How do you know? How much time do we have?”

“Not important, and not enough,” he says. “I have to go, and so do you. You need to leave yesterday.”

“How do I know I can trust you? I don’t even know who you are.”

He pauses. “Call me Skywalker.”

“That’s not an answer, Skywalker.”

“Yes it is.”

She opens her mouth to argue, but there are faint voices on the other end, drawing nearer.

“Shit,” Skywalker mutters. “I have to go. I’ll be in contact, okay? Don’t ever tell me where you are, or where you’re heading. Vader and Palpatine aren’t shy about reading minds. Just leave as soon as you can, and figure out the rest.”

“But—“

It’s too late. The comm has disconnected.

She stares down at it, disbelieving. How would the Empire know they’re here? Why should she trust a stranger who somehow got her personal comm code?

Gut feeling or not, on paper this was a perfect location. Supplied, armored, and most importantly, extremely well hidden. There was no real reason to think it would possibly be found out.

It’s probably a trap. Almost definitely a trap.

Han sticks his head in the door, a sour look on his face. “Hey Princess, can you tell these idiots—“

She makes a decision then and there.

“We’re leaving.”

“What?”

“We’re evacuating, effective immediately.” She pushes past him, and he follows so close he’s nearly stepping on her heel.

“Why? I think it’s pretty cozy here. Actual sunlight doesn’t hurt, either.”

“Apparently too cozy.” She grabs the first person she sees, a pilot who stares at her with wide eyes. “Emergency evacuation. Spread the word to pack everything you can and leave, I’ll let you know where we’re headed when we’re in orbit.”

He salutes and scurries off.

“Woah, hey now.” Han snatches at her elbow until she turns around to face him. “What’s going on?”

“There’s a new informant. He told me the Empire knows we’re here. They’re coming for us.”

“And you trust this person because…”

“I don’t have a choice,” she snaps. Someone runs past them, holding three packs filled to the brim with rations. “It’s either he’s lying and we’re not in danger, or he’s telling the truth and we’re going to die if we don’t listen. It’s not exactly hard math.”

It could be a trap of course, but he hadn’t suggested any sort of direction or destination to follow, and Leia wasn’t inclined to share. Especially not after his tidbit about Vader and Palpatine reading minds.

He squints at her. “That’s not it.”

“What?”

“I don’t believe you,” he insists. He’s so infuriating. Leia doesn’t know why she hasn’t kicked him out yet.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do, and you’re either gonna tell me why, or find a different transport when we head out of here.”

“Who said I was riding on your hunk of junk?” She demands. She actually was planning on going with them, since the Falcon has more than enough room for all the supplies that can’t fit in the other ships and none of the trustworthiness of the other pilots, but Han doesn’t need to know that.

“Well?”

Damn him. Damn him for knowing how to read her. She doesn’t know when she let that happen.

“I feel it,” she admits, defeated. “Something tells me he’s trustworthy. We’ll wait and see if it’s right.”

He studies her. She holds her head high, but inside she’s jittery at the scrutiny. They don’t have time for this.

“Yeah, all right,” Han finally says.

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” He rolls his eyes, like she’s not acting absolutely insane by putting all her trust in a random man she’s never even met. “Now come on, Princess, weren’t you the one who said we had to hurry?”

What is it about this man that makes it impossible to tell whether she wants to punch him or drag him into the nearest supply closet? They don’t have time to find out.

“So there’s good news and bad news.”

“Bad news first,” she demands.

“They know there’s a mole.”

“Shit.” Of course they know, how could they not? She should have been more careful, less obvious about the correlation of their movements with the Empire’s plans. “The good news?”

“They’ve tasked me with hunting down this ‘pathetic rebel spy,’” Skywalker says, humor in his voice. “That should buy me some time.”

Leia can’t quite stop the snort she lets out. “Seriously?”

“Yep. You’re speaking to a professional mole-hunter, here.”

“Well congratulations on the promotion, Skywalker.”

“Thank you,” he says grandly. Then, quieter, “It won’t last, Princess. They’ll find out eventually.”

“I know. Just hang in there, it will be over soon.”

“Will it?” He asks, suddenly sounding very young. She realizes that she has no idea how old he is. She doesn’t know anything about the man who has saved them more times than she cared to admit, and the idea rattles her until they sign off.

Later, she looks up the name Skywalker in their archives. There are a few results, but only one sticks out.

Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight and hero of the Clone Wars. Killed at the hands of Darth Vader. There are gossip articles too, speculations on his relationship with the pregnant Senator Padmé Amidala, who died around the same time Skywalker did. The baby, it seems, died with her.

Unless he didn’t.

It’s ridiculous. It’s impossible. The idea is so ludicrous that Leia almost rejects it entirely.

But it makes sense. By the Maker, it makes sense.

The child of Anakin Skywalker, it seems, would be a powerful Force user indeed. Powerful enough for Kenobi to take the baby and run. Powerful enough for the Emperor to want him for his own gain. Powerful enough to send Vader after Kenobi and take the boy himself.

Maybe even powerful enough to shield his mind from Vader and Palpatine’s intrusions.

Powerful enough to hide the fact that he’s a spy.

Leia sinks into her chair, covering her face as she laughs.

Maybe Luke isn’t so bad after all.

“No, no, no,” she mutters, digging through the smoking wreckage of the TIE fighter. “Don’t be dead, please don’t be dead.”

“Princess…” Han lays a hand on her shoulder that she immediately shrugs off.

“No, he’s not dead. He’s not. Luke!”

A faint cough answers her, and she’s so relieved to hear it she could cry. Behind her, Han starts bellowing for a medic and, “Some damn help here, do you expect us to move all this ourselves?”

“Luke, it’s me,” she sobs. “It’s Leia. You’re at the Rebel Base. You’re safe.”

More coughing, and there’s a worrying rasp to his voice when he says, “You know…my name?”

“I figured it out.”

“Smart.” This time, the coughing is so bad Leia and Han both wince.

“Shit, kid,” Han says, moving another piece of rubble. “Don’t talk. We’re gonna get you out of here, all right?”

“Stand back,” Luke chokes out.

“What?”

“Stand back. Please.”

Han protests, but something in Leia knows they should listen to him. She drags him back, and motions everyone else to fall back with them. They do, albeit reluctantly.

“Clear,” she calls, hoping Luke can hear her.

The TIE explodes.

“Fuck!” Han goes back in, Leia on his heels with the terrifying feeling that she’d just allowed Luke to die, before they both stop in their tracks. Around them, the broken pieces of the TIE are floating.

And curled up in the middle is a man dressed all in white.

“Luke!” She pushes past Han to start dragging him out, and after another moment of staring around them, he helps her.

As soon as they get clear, the pieces fall to the ground with a clatter. Luke falls limp with them.

Han is still looking at the TIE. “Can you do that?” He asks quietly.

Leia pauses her examination of the unconscious man in front of her to glare at him. “Is that what you’re most concerned with right now? Really?”

“Excuse me for asking, Princess!”

“It’s white,” Luke grumbles, pulling at his hospital gown bitterly. “I hate wearing white.”

“Should I be offended?”

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t even. You look great and you know it. I just feel like I never left.”

“Well,” she says gingerly. “I guess it’s a good thing you got sick of it. If we went around in matching outfits all the time, people might think we’re twins.”

He snorts. “Yeah, right.”

[anghraine]

My best friend and I were talking about our favorite moments in the SW prequels even though we both have issues with them, and there was one that we solidly (but kind of unexpectedly) agreed on.

It's actually in Attack of the Clones and from Hayden Christensen as teenage Anakin, in a moment where we really thought he shone—the return to Tatooine.

In particular, we both loved how he questions Watto, his former owner, who talks as if their history would be nostalgic for Anakin somehow and as a Jedi, Anakin might do him favors now. Watto admits he sold Anakin's mother to some guy who freed and married her, but is purposefully vague on the details, and Anakin just quietly says something along the lines of "I'd like to know."

This could be kind of empty or OTT hostile, and in our opinion, it's really neither! There's a certain, hmm, lingering politeness, but there is also an underlying menace that we thought perfectly fit the circumstances and his character.

(We also thought and liked that he seemed weirded out by the Lars situation. I mean, when you think about "this guy bought my mother in order to marry her, but also legally freed her" from Anakin's POV, it is an extremely strange situation to be in.)

[princesssarcastia]

i think the fundamental thing people forget about star wars, which would clear up some things for many people, is that luke skywalker is the hero of the story

[msgexymunson]

Benefits

Description: Your best friend Eddie starts to look very appealing to you, but if you suggest a dynamic change, will he go for it?

Warnings: NSFW, Minors DNI, AFAB reader, weed smoking, virgin Eddie x virgin reader, grinding, fingering, fem oral receiving.

A/N: I just wanted to write a little goofy, not so confident Eddie and this poured out of my brain hole. Enjoy! Reblogs and comments keep me alive so please for the love of all that is smutty reblog if you enjoy it! 

5k words

Masterlist

“All I'm saying is…” you take a big pull of the joint Eddie wiggles at you, his rough fingers brushing your lips. Your voice comes out croaky as hell when you speak, holding the smoke in, “...you can't do the voice.” 

The film plays quietly in the background as you both hang out on his couch, paying little attention to it. 

Eddie scoffs at you, taking the smoke back, and takes a big lug of it himself, hand coming to rest on your bare ankle that was thrown casually over his lap. 

“What you trying to say? You know I can do voices. I could totally do Vader.” 

Giggling, you wiggle your feet as he lightly drags his fingers over them. 

“Don't do that, you know it tickles!” 

Holding his hands up and away from you, you almost miss the contact. Which was insane. This is Eddie, for fucks sake. Your best friend. The asshole who made you nearly piss your pants in seventh grade from tickling too hard, who does stupid shit to get you to smile when you're sad. 

Recently though, the little lingering touches he gives you make your toes curl. Those glances that last a little too long for best friends, the drag of his hand on your back when you move through a crowd. It was crazy, but a part of you couldn't help but think he was feeling the same way. It wasn't like you were in love with the guy, at least not like that. He was almost family. Which made the feelings that you were having sinful in a way that made your thighs clench. 

The flirting didn't help. Eddie flirted as naturally as breathing. He was just so goddamn charming; he had chemistry with everyone. Which made it even more awkward. What if your salacious thoughts weren't reciprocated? Maybe it was just your raging hormones and you needed to keep them in check before you lose your best friend. 

“You're wrong you know.” 

Eddie's words bring you out of the daze you've been falling into; you blink at him, confused. 

“Huh?” 

Eddie rolls his eyes, and flashes you a smirk that does nothing to quench the fire inside, right when his large hands move to your waist and tickle you relentlessly. You're gasping giggles as he pins your hands over your head, full weight pressing into you. Somehow, he's got his narrow hips in between your thighs, which is definitely not helping the situation. 

“I can totally do the voice, see?” He drops it two octaves, letting a deep bass voice flow out of him, “Luke, I am your father.” 

Fuck, that shouldn't turn you on, but it did. That, and his forced proximity has you feeling uncomfortably wet. It's embarrassingly seeping into your panties; so much so that you cringe at your body's betrayal. 

He's just so damn close. So close, that you see something fluttering behind those brandy wine eyes of his. Or, was it merely your imagination?

Only one way to find out. 

Biting your lip, you flutter your eyelashes softly and speak in the sexiest voice you can.

“Does that mean I should call you Daddy?” 

Eddie's mouth drops open in a perfect O, eyebrows knitted. 

“You can't- you just- fuck!” 

He clambers off of you in an attempt to put some space between you, crossing his legs on the couch. Eddie looks flustered, cheeks burning red as he looks at you like you just grew an extra head. 

“I can't what, Eddie? Can't tease you like you tease me?” 

“Huh? I don't tease you! When did I-” 

“Oh, pinning me down don't count, huh?” 

Crossing your arms over your chest, you watch as he blows air out, grabbing a cushion and ramming it in his lap. 

“I didn't mean it like that, it's just, I dunno.” 

Looking down at his hands, he fiddles with his rings. The sheepishness he's showing is adorable, and so unlike him that it stops you in your tracks. Maybe you should just go easy on him, just a little. 

“Don't worry about it Eds, I'm just fucking around.” 

There's a bit of tension released from his shoulders, but he's still not looking at you. 

Fuck, you need another smoke. 

“You want me to roll?” 

“Hell no, I've seen you roll.” 

Scrunching your nose in fake anger, he laughs at you. 

“Look like a little chipmunk when you do that.” 

“All I hear is that you think I'm adorable.” You giggle as he mockingly rolls his eyes. 

“OK, you roll, I'll grab some sodas.” 

Getting up, you smooth your skirt down and walk over to the fridge. The cans are on the lower shelf, so you bend to grab two, making a mental note to tell Eddie to buy some more. 

When you look back, Eddie's slid to the floor, rolling paraphernalia spread out in front of him. It would be a normal scene, if he didn't still have the cushion wedged in his lap and his face wasn't glowing redder than your underwear. 

Underwear… underwear that he might have seen, since you just bent over. And the only reason why he'd keep that cushion in his lap is if he… 

Oh.��

Wordlessly, you put the soda next to his elbow and scoot up on the couch, entirely unsure about what you're supposed to do in a situation like this. The furthest you've ever gone is some over the clothes stuff. 

Plus, this is Eddie. Your stupid, asshole, mean, tormenting, breathtakingly gorgeous best friend. You curse, wriggling a little in your seat. Your panties are so damp they're practically glued to your privates, a heat emanating from you that's making your insides burn. 

“Milady.” 

Eddie holds the joint to you, perfectly rolled and more surprisingly, unlit.

“Eddie, you always take the first toke. Rollers rights, remember?” 

He shrugs and passes it anyway, giving you the lighter too, as he lifts himself onto the couch with both hands, letting his cushion shield drop briefly. Long enough to see the tightness in the crotch of his pants. 

Now the feel of your slick is dampening your thighs. Pushing them together as tight as you can, willing the feeling to dissipate, you light it with trembling hands. One puff, two puffs, pass. As his fingers graze yours, he looks at you appraisingly.

“You alright there sweetheart? Not comfy?” 

Nothings gonna happen if you just sit here and whine like a bitch in your head. Take the leap. 

“It's a little, er, embarrassing.” 

Knees squeezing together so hard it's bordering on painful, you look up at him through your lashes. Eddie's eyes are wide and warm, a light smile wrinkling them at the corners softly. 

“It's only me, come on. You can tell me anything.”

Huffing and wriggling some more, you watch him inhale smoke, and blow it out, a slight pout to his mouth that makes you want to pepper it with soft kisses. Then hard kisses. Then, other stuff. Fuck. 

“It's not- we don't, talk about this kinda stuff. I don't wanna… cross a line, you know?”

“Hey, it's alright.” His thick fingers shakily touch your knee, thumb rubbing back and forth. You're not sure if it calms you or makes you worse. It could be both. 

“Fine. Just, don't look at me when I tell you this, ‘kay?” 

There's a little laugh from him, then he rests his head on the back of the couch, eyes staring resolutely to the ceiling. 

“Alright weirdo I'm not looking. Shoot.” 

Tightening your knuckles, your face creases with the effort as you let fly the words that may well end your friendship. 

“I'm uncomfortable, I'm just- fuck, I'm really wet, OK?”

Of all the things you could say, you know Eddie was not expecting you to say that. Especially when he blushes profusely and his grip tightens hard on the cushion in his lap. True to his word, his gaze is directed firmly on the ceiling. 

“That's really-” His voice is broken; squeaky and boyish. He coughs and it comes out much lower, almost comically so. “That's, er, interesting.” 

You can't help it. A crazy laugh shoots out of your throat. An insane laugh. A mental institution laugh. It seems fitting for the situation. Here you are, on Eddie fucking Munson’s couch, telling him how wet you are? You've finally lost it. 

He laughs with you, helping to diffuse some of the awkward energy filling the room.

“Sorry Eddie. It just feels a bit, surreal, you know?” 

Eddie risks a look at you when he hands the joint back. You both stare at each other, each wishing to read the other's mind. 

Remember who you're talking to. This is Eddie. You can talk to him about anything. 

“Listen, Eddie, this is way out of fucking left field but I'm gonna say it. Have you like, done stuff, before?” 

Taking the biggest inhale you can risk without swallowing the roach, you pass the smoke back. There's a very slight shake to Eddie's hand. For some reason it gives you a bit more confidence. His voice wobbles more dramatically than you've ever heard.

“You mean like, sexual, stuff?” 

He finishes the smoke and stubs it out, glancing at you. There's a heat in his eyes that you're not used to seeing. 

“Y-yeah, I mean, honest truth? I've only done over the clothes stuff. Nothing more than that. And you?” 

Eddie coughs, puffing his chest out a little in full man-mode.

“I mean, yeah sure, a bit more than that, you know.” 

You do know. You know by the way he worded that, he's at least not gotten past third base. 

“You're a virgin too then.” 

“Hey!” He huffs, turning to you, “I'm like, way less of a virgin than you are!” 

You laugh loudly, knocking his arm with your fist. 

“Doesn't make you less of a virgin, you idiot.” 

He laughs, shaking his head. 

“Suppose you're right. Some hook-ups ‘round the back of The Hideout don't count for much.”

Reaching for his hand, you brush his knuckles with tentative fingers. 

“Eddie, what I'm trying to say is, well maybe- we could help each other out? I'm a bit… frustrated, and so are you. You know?” 

He squirms a little, recoiling from your touch. 

“What makes you think I'm frustrated?” 

“Eddie, I'm not a fucking idiot. I know why you're grabbing that cushion.” 

He laughs, his special fake laugh he reserves for awkward occasions. That is, until you grab the cushion from his lap and throw it across the room.

He's hard, almost painfully so. It's pressing against his zipper in such a way that you know it must be uncomfortable. You take in a harsh breath as you look at his face. So many emotions seem to be fighting for dominance. Clear arousal, some confusion, a little bit of pity, maybe? Which is the last thing you want to see.

Maybe you were wrong.

“I'm saying that we can help each other. I'm attracted to you. I'm not declaring my love for you or anything. It's not like, some crazy confession. I'm just saying we could… relieve each other.”

“Oh.” His whole demeanour has shifted at your words, “so you don't like, love me, or anything?” 

“Eddie, you are so fucking stupid. Of course I love you, you're my best friend. Just not like that. I mean, I kinda want you to… touch me places, don't mean I want your hand in marriage!” 

His chuckle rings against the tinny walls of the trailer. Then, he looks at you, really looks at you. Biting his lip, he walks his hands toward you, stopping just shy of your constricted knees. 

“Glad you said that. I didn't know how to say that I kinda… well, that I like you, that way, but not like… man, you said it better.” 

And just like that, your Eddie was back. It wasn't weird, far from it. After the way you'd been acting around each other for years, it just made sense. 

You both smile at each other. A genuine, familiar smile. One that hurts your cheeks, that makes your chest fill with warmth. 

“I know this is like, super weird, but it might help, you know?” 

Eddie crawls further towards you, palms splayed on your knees. The simple touch has you quivering. 

“What if it's too weird? I don't want this to ruin our friendship.” 

You smile softly, and unclench your thighs slightly, knees spreading. Enough to make his eyes dart down to your core and back up, laced with want. 

“Tell you what Eds. Kiss me.” 

“And how is that gonna help?”

You laugh, beckoning him forwards. As if on a string, he leans toward you, his rough hands grazing the tops of your thighs. You try to disguise the gasp it elicits from you, but it doesn't seem necessary. Eddie's breathing hard, hard enough to hide any impromptu noises from you. 

“Just kiss me Eddie. If it's weird and gross, we'll laugh about it. If it's, erm, better than that… well, then we can maybe take it a little further.”

Eddie leans in more, hovering over you as your head rests naturally into the armrest. But he stops, inches from your face, hesitating. 

“I don't- shit, I don't know what to do!” 

Laughing loud, you reach out and twirl a section of his hair in your soft hands, adding definition to a curl. 

“Just, use a move on me. You know? Like I'm one of those girls at The Hideout. Come on.” 

He laughs, knuckles dragging over your cheek. 

“That's… this isn't the same. You're not like that ” 

“Fine, just- come on to me. Hit me with your best shot. Just, I dunno, just-”

The rest of your sentence dies on your tongue as he cradles your jaw and presses his full lips softly to yours. You don't know what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn't this. He holds your face almost delicately, tongue lapping gently at your lip until you allow him to slip it inside. 

It's a slow, deliberate thing, as if he's mapping out your mouth in case you never agree to do this again. Not that that's a danger to you. His tongue is burning hot; a slippery warm need, igniting the fire that was already smouldering within you. 

His form relaxes slightly, allowing his weight to drop. His chest falls onto yours, no doubt telling him of the heaving gasps you're taking. You couldn't find it in you to mind, not whilst he's prising your legs open with one knee, his thigh pressing against just where you need it most. 

A moan races out of your mouth and into his, muffled into his chasing tongue. The warmth between your legs is just getting worse, stoked by the pressure of his searching knee. Suddenly there's tension exactly where you need it, the coarse denim of his thigh rubbing hard against your throbbing nub. 

“Eddie, fuck!”

He smiles into your mouth as he pushes his leg harder, groans overtaking his mouth as you use it to chase your pleasure. 

His perfect mouth traces down your jaw, nipping and sucking at your flesh. His thick tongue lathing over your taut muscles, your tiny fingers grasping onto his arms almost pathetically. 

When he breaks away to look at you, eyes searching for doubts, you can't help but think how beautiful he looks. His hair's a little messier than usual, cheeks flushed pink, and those full lips look even plumper than before. 

“Sorry, should have checked in. Was that, alright? Not too weird?” 

You try to slow your breathing, but it's no use. It usually takes you a while to get there on your own, but you were so close to coming on Eddie's leg after a couple of minutes of making out it was almost shameful. 

“I'll say, jeez. I nearly- er, got carried away.” 

“Really?” Eddie's eyes seem to brighten as the corners of his mouth twitch up into a cheeky grin. 

“Don't let that get to your head! I'm just really… needy right now.” 

“Fuck,” he replies, adjusting his bulge, “right, carried away, you say?”

Before you can process what he's said he leaps up, grabs you by the waist and throws you over his shoulder. Your giggling squeals echo through the trailer, ringing out like the peals of a bell as he barges into his room and throws you on the bed. Laughing and red faced, with your skirt rucked up around your hips and your arms flung above your head, you notice Eddie's gaze shamelessly skimming to your panties. 

Shaking out of his bare faced revelry he jumps onto the bed next to you, eager as a kid at Christmas. He's on his side, a large hand roaming over your stomach, across your waist, down to your hips and skimming just under your thin sweater. 

“You want me to take this off?” You ask, tugging at the hem. 

“Oh, er- yeah, I-I mean if you- do you want to take it off?” 

Eddie bumbles through his words as you giggle at him, his usual confident demeanour evaporated at the thought of your body. 

“Eddie you dingus, you've literally seen me in my underwear before!” 

“Well, yeah… but that was before you, er, filled out.” 

It was a long time ago. A hot Summer spent running around the trailer park hitting each other with water balloons. You'd almost forgotten how far back it was.

“You don't have to be scared of my boobs ya know.” 

Eddie scoffs, hitting you playfully with a flick of his finger on the tip of your nose. You grab it, trying to bite it but he's pulling it away and you follow. It turns into yet another wrestling match as laughter rings from the pair of you. He tries to hold his hand up high but then you straddle him. 

Suddenly, his arm goes limp and you pull the offending digit into your mouth triumphantly, nibbling softly. It's then you realise you're straddling his stomach and he's completely lost, staring at the way your skirt is wrinkled. 

Play fight discarded, you shimmy down his body and revel in the little shaking breath Eddie makes as you sit gently on his crotch, the hardened bulge pressing into your clothed heat. 

“Fuck, you're so warm.” 

You blush as his fingers dig into your hips as if afraid you'll disappear. 

“You can feel that, through your jeans?” 

He chuckles low in his throat and the sound travels straight to your tummy, letting loose a cascade of butterflies. 

“Feel it? It's like a freaking furnace. Bet it'll feel amazing inside you.” 

It's just Eddie, running his mouth; in fact it seems he didn't mean to say that out loud judging by the look on his face. He always has an issue separating outside thoughts and inside thoughts. It was so casually spoken though, you don't think he realised just how dirty it sounded. 

Your fingers smooth up his stomach, feeling the muscles tense under the contact, pulling his shirt up with them. 

“Really hot when you say stuff like that.” 

You're embarrassed admitting it, but you're so turned on that he needs to know how much his words affect you. Mostly so he'll keep using them.

“Yeah?” 

“Hmm.” 

You're dragging nails over his abdomen, tugging his t-shirt higher and higher. He doesn't seem to mind, firm hands pulling your hips slowly back and forth. So you take a shot, and yank it up high. He gets the message, lifting his arms over his head so you can fling it off and away. 

There's no subtlety to the way he pulls at your top, sitting up to wrench it off you. He's panting, eyes raking over your red cotton bra as if you were in the finest lingerie. Then your lips crash together, desperately exploring each other's mouths, teeth clashing in urgency. You collapse on top of him as he holds your hip with one hand, guiding you over his hardness as the other palms your breast over your bra. 

That feeling is back, the burning tingling mass of arousal clutching your insides, growing and growing quicker than ever. You rut against him, each pass sending a zip of sensation all the way from your clit to the tips of your toes. 

Moaning in his mouth, you break away and he nips at your neck, rough fingers snaking into your bra to clumsily rub your nipple. You cling to his waist tightly as the feeling mounts, and mounts, and finally- 

“Eddie! Oh- oh fuckin’ hell!” 

It happens. The thing that had never happened to you outside of your own late night desperate fumblings. It flows like liquid fire through your veins, buzzing across your skin in a wild burning sensation that takes you utterly by surprise. Your sounds are feral; incoherent and needy, as your thighs grasp him firmly as if in fear of him moving away. 

After a loaded silence, whilst you both breathe, and breathe, you finally unclasp your legs around him, falling to the side in an ungainly heap of arms and legs.  

“Well. Holy fucking shit.” you laugh nervously, legs shaking with the after effects.

“So, not too weird?” He smiles, taking the opportunity to get on top of you, arms either side of your head. 

“It's a little weird. Only ever, you know, came, on my own, so yeah.” 

“Yeah?” The cocky look is back, a hand trailing down your shoulder to rest on your breast. 

“Can I take this off, please?” 

You smile and lift your back up so he can slide his hand behind you, fumbling around to try and get the clasp, swearing under his breath. 

“I don't know, can you?” You question, stifling giggles. 

“You could just help me, you know, you-you devil woman- Oh wait I did it!” 

The clasp springs free and Eddie's proud smile nearly splits his face apart as he eagerly pulls down the straps. 

“You're such a goofball.”

“You've got amazing tits, Jesus Christ.” 

Heat flushes your chest and before you can retort he's kneeling between your legs, hot mouth sucking roughly on a nipple. Words fail you, your body the only thing talking as you arch your back and push toward his greedy lips. Letting go with a loud pop, he sucks a hickey right in the middle of your sternum, running his thumb over the wet mark after. 

“I wanna go down on you.” He blurts it out, spill words tugging out of his lips before he can stop them. 

“You wanna what?” You respond, dazed as he looks up at you, eyes full of fire. 

“I wanna use my mouth on you. Down here.” 

He drags his fingers low, pressing one just to the top of your mound. 

“You really want to?” As far as you're aware, that's not a thing guys tend to want to do. At least that's what you've heard. Eddie seems to be an exception. 

“More than anything.” He's brutally honest, eyes wide and begging. 

“I mean, if you want to, sure.” 

“OK, shit, just wait a sec.” 

Getting up so fast it must make his head spin, he unbuttons his jeans and wrestles them down his legs, tossing them away. The tent in his boxers makes your eyes widen.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he climbs back on the bed. 

“Sorry, just so fuckin’ hard it hurts.” 

Nothing can stop the whimper that shoots out of your mouth at his words. Again, he's just being honest, but he doesn't seem to understand how sexy it is. 

Moving to unzip your skirt, he bats your hand away to do it himself. Before he pulls it off, he looks at you nervously. 

“Just, let me know if you don't like something. Or if you do. I've er, I've not done this before so lower your expectations.” He laughs it out, embarrassment coating each word. 

“I thought you had a bunch of hook ups at The Hideout?” You tease, smirking at him. 

“Right, full disclosure, I've erm, used my fingers before, a few times. And once- once some girl tried to give me head and I busted in like three seconds, OK?” 

He grabs a bunch of his hair and hides behind it while you chuckle. 

“Eddie, it's fine, I'm glad you told me. It's just me. I'm not gonna judge you, you know that.” 

“Yeah, of course.” The breath he lets out is loud, tension melting from his body, and he bends to pull your skirt down and off. Your panties are next; they cling to your core so much it makes you cringe, but he doesn't seem to mind. 

“Can you, spread your legs a little sweetheart?” His voice is husky, eyes staring straight at your pussy. Feeling exposed, you do as he asks, fighting the urge to pull away from his gaze. 

“Look at you. Beautiful.” 

Smiling at his words, it turns into an open mouthed gasp as he strokes his fingers softly through your folds. 

“Fuck me, you're soaked.” 

Then his tongue is slipping across you, feeling tentatively as he keeps your legs wide with his rough palms. It's different; wet and messy, but it's incredible. The pleasure increases tenfold as his wandering mouth finds your clit. 

“Eddie, right there, right there!” 

He groans, pushing his face into you so hard you can feel the vibrations from the noise. He's moving his tongue up and around it, making an absolute mess of spit and slick over you. Suddenly he tries sucking and your back leaves the bed, hands coming to clutch at his hair. 

“Oh my God, do that again, please please, oh fuck!” 

He does it again, and again, smoothing each suckle with a flat lick from his tongue. Fingers graze your hole suddenly, making you jump. As you look down you see Eddie's entirely consumed by what he's doing, rutting himself into the mattress like an animal. One finger breaches you, feeling around, pumping slowly in and out. It's good, but it's not great. 

You feel ashamed even trying to guide him but you attempt to shake it off. 

“Eddie?” 

“Hmm?” He looks up, an almost dazed expression in his eyes. 

“Can you- can you curl your finger upward?” 

“Like this?” 

Your reaction is instantaneous, hips rucking up to his touch. 

“Fuuuck.” 

“Yeah? That good, sweetheart?” 

That smugness is back but it isn't in you to care. There's no words, just little whimpers and moans as you grab him by the hair and push his mouth back where you need it. 

When he adds another finger, you're gone. Your walls are clenching around him, sucking him in as the feeling of his thick digits stretching you fills your entire being. Dots dance in your vision as your whole body feels fuzzy, tingles whispering over your skin. You cry out as the feeling escalates, bubbling through you until you can't see, can't think, clawing at Eddie's head until you reach an impossible precipice. Then, it explodes, showering you in waves, over and over. 

“Oh my God that was amazing, fuck Eddie, you're incredible, I never came that hard in all my life, Jesus Christ!” 

You're babbling, you know, bubbles of platitudes popping out of your mouth in almost nonsensical sounds as your legs twitch like crazy. 

Eddie scoots up a little, face pressed into the plush of your stomach. He mumbles something incomprehensible. Leaning up on your elbows, you pull his hair a little making him look at you. 

“You alright there? What'd you say?” 

Eddie laughs, kissing your tummy, face flushed pink. 

“I said I fuckin’ came in my pants.” 

Then he hides again, as if your skin can cover his embarrassment. 

“Eddie, come here you dope.” 

He climbs up you, leaning on quivering arms. The front of his boxers pushes on your sticky core. 

“Don't worry about it, that's kinda hot.” 

“Yeah? You're hot. That was, wow. I think I found my favourite place.” 

You giggle, pressing kisses to his lips. There's still traces of you on him but you don't care. 

“Can you tell me what you said again?” He asks, grin fighting to envelop his whole face. 

“Huh?” 

“You know, how I'm the most incredible lover in existence.” Waggling his eyebrows at you, he strokes a wayward hair off of your sweaty forehead. 

“I did not say that!” 

“I'm paraphrasing, it was pretty close.” 

You hit him on the chest playfully and he falls to the side in a terrible act of mock pain. Crawling on top of him, you continue to smack him, fake punches thrown at his ribs. 

“OK, you win, I cannot best you!” 

Grabbing your hand, he kisses your knuckles and you melt against him, pressing soft kisses to his mouth. They turn harder, tongues massaging each other as he runs his hands down your back. 

You break away to plant a single kiss to the tip of his nose. 

“Maybe in a bit, you know, when you've… recovered…” 

Dragging your nails down his lean chest you look up at him, biting your lip. 

“We can… go all the way?” 

Eddie's face lights up. He grabs you and flings you down so he's on top, kissing your neck and jaw sloppily as you squeal at the sudden onslaught. 

“Yes, fuck yes, gimme like two minutes, five tops.” 

Taglist (if you want to be added please send me a PM so I don't lose the request, thank you)

@liminalpebble @eddies-puppet @rip-quizilla @micheledawn1975 @vanilla-demon @millercontracting @roanniom @josephquinnsfreckles @leelei1980 @mrsjellymunson @usedtobecooler @eddiesprincess86 @ali-r3n

[entitled-fangirl]

Indeed, my girl.

Cregan Stark x Velaryon!reader

Summary: The reader is dealing with the grief of losing Luke. Cregan helps in the ways he can.

Warnings: Talks of attempted sa, Threatening, Talks of death, cursing, mental health

Masterlist

................................................................

She hadn't been the same since the death of her younger brother. 

Cregan had noticed it. 

Fewer meals, fewer baths, fewer words, and fewer movements entirely. 

As if the grief was killing her from the inside. 

And he could only watch.

He was a man of action. He'd killed men with his bare heads for far less.

And he could only watch as grief was murdering his wife. 

...

"There's something on your mind," he stated from the doorway of their shared chambers.

She sat on the floor in front of the fireplace. 

When she made no motion to look at him, he walked to her, kneeling down with a hand on her back, "I wish I knew what you think so much about."

She shook her head as she stared at the flames. Her voice was hoarse, "No, you don't."

He tilted his head, "Try me."

She turned and looked at him from over her shoulder. 

Only then did he notice the hollowing of her cheeks. 

The dark circles under her eyes. 

She sniffled, "Does the pain go away?"

He felt his chest tighten. 

The death of his own younger brother. 

His brother had died years ago.

"No."

Her eyes filled with tears.

"You just learn to live with it." He said awkwardly. 

Starks were not made for emotions.

She turned to him completely now, abandoning warmth of the fire, "How?"

"I dunno. It just happens one day." He looked off in thought. "You forget about it for a while. But…" 

She felt herself leaning into every word.

"You still see him in every first snow of the winter. Every pine tree with missing branches." He lets out a strained laugh, "And every fucking rabbit."

She shifted herself closer, wiping at her cheeks. "I… I see him. When I close my eyes."

He nods, "You will. You always will."

"I haven't felt this since," she pauses, "Since… Ser Harwin died."

Ser Harwin Strong.

Her biological father.

"And did that ever go away?" He asked quietly.

She sniffled, "No. But it became easier with time. When…" Her eyes flooded with tears again, "When I forgot what he looked like."

He couldn't help the coo from his throat as he immediately pulled her into his lap.

"What if I forget what he looks like, Cregan?" She asked in horror.

He tucked her face into his neck, "It'll be alright."

"What if… if this was my fault?" She sobbed into him.

"How could it ever be your fault, my girl?" He asked calmly.

Her shoulder shook with hiccups, "Like… with… with Harwin… and I… it's… it's my fault…"

He pulled her away from him to look into her eyes, "What do you mean?"

"I had… and when…" 

"Shh," he immediately cooed. "Tell me when you're ready. " His hands brushed her cheeks gently, catching stray tears as she tried to steady her breathing. 

After a while, she managed it enough to speak, "I was the reason… Harwin was sent away."

His brows furrowed, "I'm not understanding you, sweet girl."

"He was sent away for… for defending us as bastards against Ser Criston. And… Harwin was already mad at Criston because of me."

Cregan hummed, "Alright?"

"I look like him but… I… I looked like my mother then. And… Criston at one point liked my mother very much. And… and in turn, he began to take a liking to me."

Cregan's jaw clenched at the sound of where the story was going. 

"One night, I… I was going to my chambers and… and he pinned me to the wall and… tried to… sully me."

His hands that were on her hips tightened and his eyes darkened, "What?"

"You took my maidenhead, Cregan. You know that."

Her words did little to comfort him. "But how far did he get? I'll fucking kill him myself."

"I'm fine. I got out. And… I told Harwin. He promised to deal with it the next day and… Criston questioned our parentage that day. That day it all happened and he was sent away. To die in that stupid fucking fire." She leaned back, "If I had just kept it to myself, he wouldn't have been so angry-"

"-No. No. Don't even begin to say that," Cregan said firmly as he took her face in his hands again. "You did it all right."

"It doesn't feel like it."

"I know it doesn't."

"Luke looked like him the most."

He pulled her to him again. 

Her voice grew low, "I'll kill them all."

Cregan stared at the flames of the fireplace. 

He was quiet for a while, until his voice came out strong and firm, "The North remembers."

She leaned away, rubbing at the few tears that still laid on her cheeks. "The Greens don't know what they've done."

"Aye. They don't."

Here, in Winterfell, the two lovers began to find solace in each other. 

"You're the only other person that I…"

Cregan hung on every word now. He spoke in a low murmur, "Say it. You can say it to me."

"-I've never told anyone else what happened with Cole. Besides Harwin. Just… you."

He felt a protective feeling surge through him. Nothing was getting through him to her, he'd make sure of that.

"You remind me of him, you know."

He paused, "Who, my girl?"

"Harwin."

His lips parted, "How…. How so?"

Her hands moved his face, caressing his cheeks until they grew firm, "You wouldn't let anything fucking touch me either."

He could've let that smirk grow more on his face, but he kept it suppressed, "I won't let anyone or anything touch you, my girl. I swear it."

She hummed, relaxing, "Much like him. Like home."

Cregan let a smile come across his face, "I'm honored I'm like home to you, sweet Princess."

"He…" She smiled, recalling a memory, "He had taught my brothers the sword. As a girl, I had no luxury. But… in secret, he gave me lessons with throwing knives."

His head tilted, impressed, "He taught you how to throw knives?"

"He was a talented man."

"Aye."

"That's how I did it."

"Did what, pretty?"

She paused, taking a deep breath, "How… I defended myself. Cole, he… he pinned me to the wall. When he was distracted, I pulled my knife on him and threatened him with something… too unladylike to say."

Cregan Stark felt a deep surge of pride flow through his body at her confession. "Tell me."

"Oh, no. It's… it's too crude."

His hands moved to her thighs, "Please, wife. I must know."

"I threatened to… 'take the thing that he thinks with' and... I did not mean his head."

Cregan let out a bark of a laugh, throwing his head back dramatically. 

When he came back to, his smile never left, "My little dragon of a wife. It seems you're just full of fire!"

She smiled, "Is that a bad thing?"

He pulled her closer to him, "Absolutely not." His lips brushed hers, "I'm quite fond of it."

"Good," she whispered. 

Their lips connected in a soft kiss.

"They'll pay. I promise." Cregan said as he pulled away. "Starks don't forget oaths."

"Winter is coming. Isn't it, Cregan?"

He smiled, "Indeed, my girl."

.........................................................................

[delulujuls]

the other one | jacaerys velaryon

hi, here comes the 2.7k of i don't know what, really. its for sure intense, so fasten up your saddle and enjoy the ride. i enjoyed making aegon such a cutiepie in my two last shots, but this man is designed to be a menace to humanity so yeah, i believe im gonna lose it in the next shots. prepare for chaos.

summary: heart want what it wants, and y/n's heart belong to young prince from dragonstone, not to the future cruel king of westeros.

warnings: targaryen brothers being mean to velaryon boys AGAIN, aegon is such a meanie oh god, fighting, arguing, threatening with a sword, last scene is smelling a bit like a rap3, so feel free to skip it. your comfort is the most important

pairing: sister!targaryen reader x jacaerys velaryon (ft. jealous, possesive and dark!aegon targaryen)

Two young princes stood at the gates of the castle, awaiting guests. For several minutes they kept glancing at the sky, looking out for dragons. However, only the sound of wind and waves crashing against the rocks could be heard, with no indication that any winged beasts would soon appear before their eyes.

“Do you think they’ll come at all?” Lucerys asked his older brother, glancing at him. The cold wind chilled him to the bone, and the youngest of the Velaryons longed to return inside and sit by the fireplace.

Jacaerys did not get a chance to answer because shortly after, a muffled roar reached their ears, and something flickered in the low-hanging storm clouds. The heavy sky was pierced by the massive body of Vhagar, who was the first to emerge from the clouds and flew towards the beach. Close behind were Vermithor and Sunfyre, who looked dainty in comparison to those two giant dragons. Aemond, Y/N, and Aegon had arrived at Dragonstone.

Soon after, all four appeared at the castle gates. Helaena was flying with her older sister on Vermithor, choosing not to sail by ship with their mother, father, and grandfather. The youngest of the siblings still couldn't bring herself to travel alone on the back of her Dreamfyre, but felt confident with Y/N, now walking hand-in-hand with her sister towards the castle.

Lucerys took a step back, seeing Aemond and Aegon confidently striding towards them. The youngest Velaryon swallowed hard.

“I hope they don’t sit close to us,” he whispered, prompting his brother to discreetly nudge his arm.

Jacaerys smiled at the sight of the siblings. “Welcome, it’s good to see you here,” he said.

Aemond, leading the way, wore his characteristic grimace, nothing like the smile the young prince offered him. The last thing he felt like doing was feigning politeness. In silence, he merely glanced at them, bypassing them and pushing the heavy gate doors.

“My favorite, strong nephews,” Aegon said sarcastically, with a mocking smile. Passing by, he nudged Lucerys in the shoulder, who was about to turn and say something when his aunt’s voice reached his ears. Y/N smiled joyfully at the sight of Rhaenyra’s sons.

“Luke, Jace,” she extended her arms, hugging them both at once. Hearing the girl's joyful voice, Aegon glanced over his shoulder and rolled his eyes. He thought his sisters were too lenient with those bastards.

“It’s good to see you, Y/N,” Jacaerys smiled, embracing her and catching the smell of her lavender-scented hair. While he sincerely disliked Aemond and Aegon, he was very fond of their sisters. Helaena was shy and harmless, often speaking little and nodding more. Y/N, on the other hand, often reminded him of his mother, unafraid to speak up or defend her position. She was also wise and very pretty, and he was genuinely pleased to spend a few days in her presence.

“Are you coming, or are we going to freeze out here like a bunch of idiots?” Aegon asked sharply, seeing Y/N hold onto older Velaryon a bit too long. The young princess gave him an amused look, tousled Lucerys’ hair, and linked arms with Helaena. The four of them briskly walked towards the castle.

Rhaenyra was celebrating her thirty-second name day, so the entire family from King’s Landing had come to Dragonstone. Viserys wanted his daughter to celebrate her birthday in the capital, but she wished to spend the day her way. The ailing king, still battling illness, had no intention of arguing with his daughter, lacking the strength and health to do so. Even to the Targaryen seat, he chose to sail by ship rather than ride on the back of one of the dragons. After Balerion’s death, he had given up flying and now didn’t think about it at all.

During the evening feast, the dining hall filled with people. Despite it being Rhaenyra’s day, Viserys sat at the head of the table. To his left was his eldest daughter, beside her Daemon, Joffrey, Lucerys, Jacaerys, Rhaena, and Baela. On the king’s right sat his wife, next to her the Hand of the King, then Aemond, Aegon, Y/N, Helaena, and Rhaenys Targaryen, next to whom, at the other end of the table, sat Corlys Velaryon.

The feast went on in a calm and surprisingly pleasant atmosphere. Previous feasts often ended in arguments before they even really began. The main instigators of all disputes, Aemond and Aegon, sat quietly, not speaking much. Many might have thought someone stuffed hay into the dragons’ bellies to prevent them from breathing fire.

Aegon, however, increasingly clenched his hand around the wine goblet from time to time, hearing Y/N happily talking with Jacaerys across the table. His blood boiled hearing her so delighted with the conversation with him. He felt like slapping that fucking son of a bitch.

Helaena was also having a good time, shedding her shyness piece by piece with each sip of wine. She chatted lively with Rhaena and Baela, who were already slightly tipsy themselves. Rhaenys sent an amused look to her husband, who tightened his grip on the wine jug and pulled it closer. The Sea Snake had to be vigilant to prevent his granddaughters and the young Targaryen from getting too drunk. Helaena, however, had more to celebrate than just her half-sister’s birthday.

Since Viserys and Alicent’s daughters reached reproductive age, the Hand of the King and the Queen Mother began looking for potential suitors for them. While there was no trouble finding suitors for Y/N, who, besides her wealth and possessions, had a strong character and good disposition, finding a husband for Helaena was problematic.

From birth, the princess showed signs of abnormal development. Though she grew as a girl should, her mind seemed not to keep up, still trapping her in a world of childish dreams. Helaena was quiet, read a lot, and spent all her time in the garden, not burdened with unnecessary duties.

The Hand decided that when the time came, that is, when Aegon was to take the throne from the ailing king, he would marry Helaena, and Y/N would marry Forrest Frey. The plans were made at a Small Council meeting, which neither Helaena nor Y/N attended. Probably neither would have known about the plans to marry them off if Y/N hadn’t accidentally overheard their conversation when one of the doors unguarded by sentries was ajar.

“I don’t agree!” she said firmly, pushing the heavy doors and entering.

“Y/N, you can’t be here-,” Alicent stood up, wanting to calm her daughter, but she sharply pointed her finger upwards. “And you can’t do this to Helaena! I don’t agree!”

Aegon, who was one of the people at the table, also didn’t support the Council’s idea. However, he was too drunk to make any objections. Only his sister’s intrusion somewhat sobered him up. If he had to choose, he could marry Y/N since she wanted to fight so hard for Helaena’s better fate. Frankly, he didn’t care either way.

The guards first wanted to remove the young princess, but she began presenting her arguments. The Council didn’t think an eighteen-year-old’s arguments could make any sense, but many underestimated Y/N’s negotiation skills. In the castle, by Aegon’s side, she could be more useful than in the Riverlands beside Forrest Frey.

The Council decided that Helaena would marry Frey when the time came, and Y/N would marry Aegon. The young princess didn’t want Helaena to spend her life in the castle, locked in chambers and bearing children. She wanted her to break free from King’s Landing and experience a life different from the one she had lived so far. Y/N knew that unlike her sister, she could handle an incestuous marriage and an unwanted husband, who Aegon was to become in the future. Helaena might have been driven to suicide.

But for now, these were just tomorrow's problems, or who knows, maybe even further. Helaena, in a sudden burst of joy, stood up and climbed onto a chair, much to Alicent’s horror.

“To my beloved sister Y/N,” she said, swaying. Rhaenys held the chair to prevent her from falling. “And to my sister Rhaenyra, who celebrates her birthday today. I love you!”

Alicent, Otto, Aemond, and Aegon looked at her indulgently, raising their goblets. All the other guests eagerly toasted, applauding the young princess’s words. Rhaenyra stood up from the table and hugged her sister; Y/N also rose to do the same.

“Helaena needs rest,” Alicent whispered, gripping her daughter’s shoulder before she stood up. “Escort her to bed.”

Y/N shook off her hand and got up, embracing her sisters. However, when she felt Helaena’s heavy body in her arms, she held her close around the waist.

As soon as the sisters left the dining hall, Jacaerys, sent by his mother, joined them. Young prince apologized to Y/N and with a single, confident motion, picked up Helaena, who laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck. She kissed his cheek, admitting that she would let such a handsome man whisk her away without hesitation.

Jacaerys only let go of Helaena when he placed her on the bed in her bedroom.

"Will you stay with her until morning?" he asked as Y/N began removing the rings from her sister's fingers.

"Helaena usually sleeps like a mouse under a haystack, but after wine, she sleeps like a rock," Y/N replied, smiling slightly at the sight of her sister's flushed face. "Wait outside, I'll change her for bed and join you."

The young prince nodded obediently and left the chamber. He stood outside the door, straight as a string, feeling like a guard. Shortly after, the princess joined him, quietly closing the door behind her.

"She'll sleep like a baby until morning," she assured, laughing softly.

"It's nice to see her with a smile on her face," Jacerys admitted as they slowly began walking down the corridor. He quietly offered his arm to Y/N, which she gladly accepted.

"I've noticed she smiles much more when she's here. I feel like the capital is suffocating her."

Jacaerys lowered his gaze. He had recently learned about the marriage plans for the young sisters.

"I heard she'll leave King's Landing sooner or later," he said, glancing at her. He didn't know how delicate ground he was entering.

The young princess sighed and nodded. She spent the whole way telling Jacaerys about everything that had happened in the past weeks. In the company of the boy, Y/N didn't feel like his aunt, as their relationship would suggest, but like a friend. After all, they were only a year apart in age. They had always had a good relationship and, unlike her hostile brothers, Y/N really liked Jacaerys. She cherished every opportunity she could spend with him. This was one of those moments.

The pair didn't return to the feast; instead, they went to one of the terraces. They sat on one of the benches, and Y/N involuntarily rested her head on the boy's shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her waist, hugging her close.

"You deserve more, Y/N," he said quietly. "Both you and Helaena deserve more."

"I know I'll manage, I'm strong," she said, watching the remnants of the day dance on the horizon. "But I'm so scared for Helaena. She deserves the whole world, not what's waiting for her in King's Landing."

The young princess wasn't sad; at this moment, she could even say she felt a lightness in her heart. Jacaerys' body warmed her pleasantly, and the cool, salty air chased away the heat caused by the wine from her cheeks.

"You're the bravest dragon I've ever known," he said with a smile, looking at her face. The girl smiled at his words. "I don't know stronger people than Targaryen women."

"Do you really think so?" she asked quietly, looking into his eyes. She didn't know if his cheeks were flushed from the wine or the cold wind. Nevertheless, his dark eyes looked at her so gently that the young princess never wanted to look into any other eyes again.

Jacaerys smiled and nodded. He cautiously lifted his hand and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. He touched her cheek and gently stroked it with his thumb.

"I would take better care of you than they would, you know?" he said after a moment, his whisper lost in the whistle of the wind. Y/N heard his words clearly, just as she clearly heard the snort of disdain that came from somewhere to the side.

"I don't know which of you is more pathetic," Aegon said, looking at them with drunken eyes. He could barely stand, but his fists were clenched. Aemond remained silent, standing in the entrance and blocking it with his body. Unlike his brother, he didn't look drunk.

"What is your problem?" Y/N asked angrily, standing up. Unintentionally, she shielded Jacaerys with her body, who also rose from the bench.

"That you act like a complete whore," he spat through his teeth, causing Jacaerys to step around the girl to stand in her defense. She grabbed his hand and pulled him back when Aemond drew a dagger and stepped forward, defending his brother.

"Watch your words," Jacaerys said angrily. He didn't care that he was addressing the future king. In his eyes, Aegon wasn't worth anything, and he certainly didn't deserve to be Y/N's husband.

"Or what, bastard?" Aemond asked calmly, looking at him intently.

"We haven't done anything wrong," the young princess said sharply, though her voice trembled. She knew that her brothers were unlikely to hurt her, but she wasn't capable of protecting Jacaerys from both of them. She had only her hands, feet, and teeth at her disposal. "Get out of the way."

"Oh, really?" Aegon smiled. His drunken eyes were shiny from alcohol and dark-circled, his skin ashen. Even despite the fire of hatred burning in him, he didn't have a bit of a blush on his face. "I see a fucking dog clinging to my future wife."

"You wish she were your wife," Jacaerys said without thinking much about the words that left his mouth. Aegon lunged at him with his fists, to which the young Velaryon responded in kind. Aemond sheathed his dagger and grabbed Jacaerys by the shoulders, holding him and exposing him to Aegon's blows. In the commotion, the young princess managed to draw her brother's dagger and without hesitation, grabbed Aegon by the hair, pulling him back. With tears on her cheeks, she pressed the sword to his neck.

The four of them froze in place.

Aemond still held Jacaerys tightly, blood was trickling from his lip. Aegon's heart was pounding, not from fear but from adrenaline and, at that moment, also from excitement. His sister's small hand was firmly gripping his hair, forcing him to tilt his head back. Blood flowed from his broken nose, running down to his grinning lips.

"She's a dragon, see?" Aegon said, addressing Jacaerys. "You couldn't handle her, fool."

Y/N pushed her brother to the ground, releasing the dagger from her hands as well. She grabbed Jacaerys' hand and pulled him from Aemond's grasp, who would have lied if he said his sister's behavior didn't leave him speechless. In shock, he wasn't even able to oppose her.

"I'm so sorry," she began tearfully, pulling him away as far as possible from that place. "I should have killed them when I had the sword in my hand."

Jacaerys pulled her by the hand, causing her to turn around suddenly and fall into his arms. Without a word, he kissed her, feeling her salty tears mix with the blood from his split lip. Y/N returned the kiss but looked at him in shock. Jacaerys smiled warmly at her.

"Don't apologize to me," he whispered, cupping her cheeks in his hands. "You are a dragon, so be a dragon."

The pair didn't return to the feast. Instead, Y/N went with the young prince to his chambers. Jacaerys initially protested when she said she would help dress his wounds. Eventually, he agreed to her proposal, lying on the bed in just his trousers. The girl carefully cleaned his cuts, placing a cold compress on his abdomen. She sat beside him, looking at him tenderly.

"I'm so sorry, Jace," she whispered, squeezing his hand. The boy, however, seemed to be in a good mood.

"If every fight with them means I get to spend time with you, I'm ready to fight them every day."

The young princess smiled and shook her head at his words. She felt her heart swell when she was with him.

Their eager lips exchanged a few more kisses before Y/N quietly left his chamber, returning to her own. Helaena was still sleeping soundly, snoring softly. She lay on her side on her half of the bed, not even stirring when her sister began preparing for sleep. Dressed in a nightgown, she let her hair down and carefully combed it. She put the brush away and blew out the nearby candles, lying down on the bed.

As soon as she covered herself with the quilt, she felt someone sit on her, pressing her into the mattress, and a cold hand covered her mouth. The girl wanted to scream but felt a blade against her neck. The attacker leaned over her, his hair tickling her face. The young princess smelled alcohol.

"Every time you raise your hand against me," Aegon whispered, tightening his grip on the dagger's hilt, "I'll have one of your fingers cut off, understood?"

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut and nodded. For the first time in her life, Aegon truly frightened her. She felt her heart leap into her throat.

"And that fucking Velaryon dog," he moved his hand from her mouth to her hair, gripping it tightly. "I never want to see him near you again."

"Aegon-" she whispered with difficulty, clutching his wrist to push him away. She felt herself running out of breath, and the cold blade pressed deeper into her skin.

"Is that clear?" he growled, pressing her harder into the pillows.

"Yes," she said tearfully.

A moment later, she felt her brother's alcohol-tainted lips forcefully and brutally kissing hers. Aegon stood up shortly after and left the sisters' chamber, closing the door behind him. In the darkness, the young princess found her sister's body and hugged her from behind, trying to suppress her tears. She was terrified.

How much she wished she could hide in Jacaerys's arms at that moment.

[thesithdiaries]

Queen's Envoy

Pairing: (fancast) Benjicot Blackwood & Velaryon female!reader

Plot: The Princess is sent as an envoy to get more allies. She is tasked with treating lords in the Riverlands. As she finds herself far from home, she discovers a certain Blackwood boy, who isn't as scary as she thought.

Warnings: typical westeros stuff, badly written panic attack, losing consciousness, being carried (no weight mention tho)

N/A: thanks to my friend and grammarly cause i had such a huge mess

“Prince Jacaerys will fly north. First to the Eyrie to see my mother's cousin, the Lady Jeyne Arryn, and then to Winterfell to treat with Lord Cregan Stark for the support of the North. Prince Lucerys will fly south to Storm's End and treat with Lord Borros Baratheon. And Princess Name will fly west to Raventree Hall and treat with Lord Blackwood. We must remind these lords of the oaths they swore.”

Rhaenyra saw how her children talked in the distance, as they were getting ready to depart. Name held Luke's hand and chuckled softly at something he said. The Queen’s heart ached as they embraced, expressing good wishes and mentioning how they would eat by the beach when they all returned.

-

Flying to the Riverlands was not an issue. As they flew over forests, [Name] rehearsed what she would say out loud. She would speak of uniting the realm, strength, and the promise of a good queen. During his reign, Viserys Targaryen named Rhaenyra as his heir, but the Hightowers were now threatening her claim. The support of the Riverlords was crucial for the cause and [Name] knew this.

Goldwing descended on a small clearing of flowers, allowing [Name] to slide down his wing. She caressed the dragon's face, glad that they arrived safely.

She glanced around, seeing how a group of men were pointing at them in the distance. [Name] heart began to race as she clutched the dagger Daemon insisted she had to take. Goldwing stood tall, protecting his rider.

“We mean no harm,” one of the men said, now at a talking distance. They were all staring at Goldwing in awe, they had never seen a dragon.

“What do you want, girl?” The other asked with curiosity.

“I am here to see Lord Blackwood.”

Their expressions turned from amazement to worry as a guy walked towards her with a crazed, yet amused look. ��And who is looking for him?” He eyed her shamelessly, not missing the intricate details in the riding leathers she wore.

“Princess [Name] Velaryon,” she revealed proudly, not allowing herself to feel intimidated.

The boys fell silent, shock evident on their faces. They never expected to see a princess in the Riverlands. The boy cleared his throat and lightly scratched his brow, uncomfortable with his crude behavior. "My name is Benjicot Blackwood," he said. "But I can guide you to Raventree Hall if you'd like to speak with my father."

“Thank you,” [Name] smiled kindly.

They walked quietly, [Name] was enjoying the smell of nature and the breeze. The air was crisp, as the sun had just risen not long ago. [Name] glanced at Ben from the corner of her eye, expecting him to speak about something, since he seemed like the type that would talk for hours. Ben, on the other hand, was very aware of [Name’s] presence beside him. She moved with grace and her eyes filled with wonder at her surroundings. He had never seen anyone like her, and her sudden appearance had sparked different emotions in him.

They eventually reached Raventree Hall. Everyone inside the walls stopped and stared, even murmured, about the unexpected visitor. As they approached the main hall, Ben finally broke the silence. "My father is a good man," he promised. "He will listen to you. No matter what you need, he can help you."

[Name] nodded, grateful for his reassurance. "Thank you, Ben," she replied softly. "I hope he listens. It's... it's important."

Ben gave a small, encouraging smile and pushed the door open, gesturing for [Name] to enter first. Perhaps this meeting would get a strong army to support her mother’s claim to the Iron Throne.

-

Raventree Hall was filled with laughter, clinking goblets, and loud chatter. Samwell Blackwood had reaffirmed his claim to support Rhaenyra Targaryen, the rightful heir.

Samwell sat on the high table, alongside his sister Alyssane and his son Benjicot. The boy, however, could not take his eyes off her. His admiration grew into a silent yearning.

As the evening grew late, Ben found himself drawn into conversations with the Princess. At first, he stumbled over his words, his cheeks flushing. But [Name], sensing his nerves, engaged him in discussions about anything that crossed her mind.

Encouraged by her words, Ben found himself talking more freely. He recounted tales of his training, his support for her mother’s claim and of course, about fights he had with Bracken boys. Throughout the night, they shared stories and laughter. Others at the feast noted their conversation and exchanged glances, some smiling at the young boy’s naiveness.

As [Name] stood up to leave for the night, Ben grabbed her hand and spoke without thinking, “Princess, would you like a tour through the Riverlands?”

[Name’s] heart was pounding in her chest. “Of course, I would love that.”

-

Ben woke with the sun, excitement coursing through him.

After getting dressed, he hurried through the castle to the guest chambers. As he knocked on the door, he cleared his throat, suddenly feeling shy.

There was no response from inside. Did she leave without me? He wondered as he knocked again, but still no answer. Glancing down the hallway, he slowly opened the door.

[Name] was there, lying on the bed. "Princess?" Ben called out softly. She turned toward his voice, struggling to open her eyes. "Oh... I apologize for waking you," Ben said, now feeling like he had ruined everything. "We can speak later."

"No," [Name] protested, her voice groggy. Ben's heart fluttered, he thought that was adorable. "Let me get dressed. I will meet you by the gates."

-

Ben was talking a stroll through the gardens, waiting on [Name]. He was debating if he should give her a bouquet of wildflowers when the maester hurried towards him, a letter clutched in his hand. The urgency in his eyes made Ben’s heart drop. Accepting the letter, he noticed the seal of Dragonstone and felt a sinking feeling in his stomach.

He read the brief message: Prince Lucerys was dead.

He found her not far away, possibly on her way to meet him, lost in thought. Ben approached her slowly, the letter gripped tightly in his hand.

“[Name],” he called softly, trying to keep his voice calm.

She looked up, her face brightening before she saw his expression. “Ben, is something wrong?"

He stood in front of her, taking a deep breath. “I received a letter from Dragonstone,” he began, his voice heavy with pity. “It’s about your brother, Lucerys.”

[Name’s] eyes widened, a mix of fear and dread washing over her face. “What happened to Luke?” she asked, her voice trembling.

Ben handed her the letter, not trusting himself to tell her.

Her hands shook as she read it. She stared at him, her face draining of color. “No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “No, it can’t be true.” Her breathing grew rapid and shallow, her eyes wide with panic. “Luke...no...” she gasped, struggling to catch her breath. She stumbled, her movements frantic. “I need to get to him,” she cried, looking around desperately. “I need to go home.”

Ben reached out to steady her. “[Name], please,” he pleaded, but she was not hearing him. She broke free from his grasp, running towards Goldwing.

“No!” she shouted, her voice breaking. “I have to go to him!”

Goldwing lifted its head, sensing her distress. [Name] reached for the reins, her hands shaking uncontrollably. “We have to go,” she repeated, her voice frantic.

Before Ben could intervene, her legs gave out, and she collapsed to the ground. “[Name]!” he shouted, rushing to her side. Goldwing roared, eyes glowing with worry.

Ben cradled her in his arms, his heart pounding. Servants and guards came running after hearing the dragon, their faces filled with concern as Ben lifted her body and ran inside to the guest chambers.

Ben stayed by her bed after she was examined by the maester, holding her hand and watching over her. As he sat there, his heart ached, knowing that the pain of losing her brother was something no words could heal.

Hours later, a soft groan had alerted Ben that she had woken up. [Name] stared at the room, confused by her surroundings, before trying to stand up. “Easy,” he begged, pushing her back onto her pillow. “Please don’t stand up.

After some minutes of silence, [Name] rubbed her hands on her face. “I remember... my brother..."

“I know. I'm so sorry,” Ben grabbed her hand and squeezed it gently..

“I… what now?” She asked herself, starting to tear up.

“The maester said you can return to Dragonstone when you feel better,” Ben informed her.

[Name] nodded. “I do not think I can travel back alone,” she whispered to him, causing Ben to give her a reassuring smile.

“Then I can go with you,” Ben softly wiped the tears from her cheeks.

[saphronethaleph]

He's the Calm One

“Give yourself to the dark side,” Vader advised, as he stalked through the darkened areas of the throne room. “It is the only way you can save your friends. Yes, your thoughts betray you. Your feelings for them are strong. Especially for…”

He paused.

“Your sister,” he said, interested. “So, you have a twin sister. If you will not turn to the Dark Side, then perhaps she will!”

“No!” Luke shouted, springing out of cover, lightsaber held ready.

Vader moved his own blade in a block, then stopped a moment later as he realized Luke wasn’t actually attacking.

“You mustn’t make her turn to the Dark Side,” Luke said, voice laced with urgency.

“I must not?” Vader asked. “That is not up to me-”

“No, father, that’s not what I mean,” Luke replied. “It’s a matter of safety. Personal and… galactic.”

Vader’s expression did not change, because he was wearing a helmet.

“You realize that I have no idea what you are talking about,” he said. “Who is your sister?”

Luke paused.

“Leia,” he said. “You should know that, father. Maybe now you’ll understand.”

Vader’s helmet tilted slightly.

“What?” he asked. “I never felt a thing. Her emotions never betrayed her.”

“She didn’t know,” Luke pointed out. “I didn’t know until you told me.”

“Still…” Vader mused. “The Force can be strange… but you seem insistent on keeping your sister from the Dark Side.”

“You’ve met her, haven’t you?” Luke asked.

Vader paused, giving that due consideration.

“...I suppose she would probably be suited to the Dark Side,” he said. “She would make a good apprentice.”

“You’re not listening,” Luke complained. “She would be a terrible person to have as an apprentice in the Dark Side of the Force, specifically.”

Vader attempted to glare at Luke. “You fail to understand the value of passion to the Dark Side.”

“Why have you stopped fighting?” Palpatine demanded, from the other side of the throne room.

“We are having a moment,” Vader called back. “I am attempting to turn Luke to the Dark Side by using his family members against him.”

“Very well!” Palpatine said. “Continue! That usually works.”

Vader inclined his head, slightly, the only sign of what was probably a frown under his helmet.

“I may need to think about that,” he said, under his hissing breath, then returned his attention to Luke.

Who was gesturing for emphasis.

“Maybe I’m not getting this across properly, Father,” he said. “But perhaps… you sent Han to Jabba the Hutt, didn’t you? You knew him?”

“I do not know Jabba the Hutt, son,” Vader retorted, his voice dark with rage. “I know who Jabba the Hutt is. But I fail to see the relevance.”

“As part of the plan to rescue Han, she got captured,” Luke explained. “Jabba chained her up and made her a dancing girl. The moment I began to fight during the rescue, she cut the lights and strangled him with that very chain.”

He stared into the eyes of Vader’s helmet, unblinking and unbowed. “Do you understand, Father?”

Vader considered that, then nodded, very slightly.

“I begin to see your point,” he said. “Damn.”

“If Leia turned to the Dark Side and was made an apprentice to you or the Emperor, it would be extremely bad for the health of everyone inside this room,” Luke summarized. “And also for the galaxy, more generally, though it would at least be run efficiently.”

“The Emperor has brought order to the galaxy,” Vader said, in a sort of distant voice like he wasn’t fully paying attention to the conversation.

“Have you seen how much he’s spent on pointless superweapons that get blown up by the Rebellion?” Luke shot back.

Vader held up his free hand, and for a moment Luke wondered if his father was about to use the Force… only for it to mean nothing more than a request that Luke be silent for a moment.

“...humour me, son,” Vader said. “What, exactly, is your plan here?”

“With surrendering myself to you?” Luke asked, and got a slight nod. “I hoped to be able to convince you that you’d done something wrong, and that you could realize that there was still good in you. That you were not trapped in the Dark Side, and could – if you truly wished it – return to the side of good.”

He paused. “...I will say, Obi-Wan and Yoda both told me it was impossible.”

“They do that,” Vader said, still sounding distracted. “And my daughter was raised by Bail and Breha, and she ended up… hm.”

“...Father?” Luke asked, after several seconds of silence had elapsed.

“I am just realizing that you are, apparently, Padme’s child of the two of you,” Vader said. “She killed Jabba the Hutt? Really?”

“Really,” Luke agreed. “Since you send Han to Jabba, we came up with a plan.”

He twirled his lightsaber. “First, I gave Jabba the droids C-3P0 and R2-D2, after concealing my lightsaber in R2. Then Leia turned in Chewbacca for the bounty, while disguised as an Ubese, and threatened to set off a bomb. Finally I came in to ask politely for Han’s release, offered Jabba one last opportunity to free us while about to be thrown into the Pit of Carkoon, and when he refused I killed… about half of Jabba’s entourage. Leia got Jabba and the other half when she rigged his sail barge to explode.”

“...this is a new feeling,” Vader said, almost to himself. “This must be paternal pride. Damn.”

“Have you turned him yet?” the Emperor called, waspishly.

“I’m working on it!” Luke called back.

Vader missed a breath, then his respirator worked overtime to recover.

“I still want to turn my daughter to the Dark Side,” he said, once he’d recovered. “But mostly to find out what would happen.”

“Fair,” Luke admitted. “I’m curious as well, but I don’t want to be in the blast radius and I’m fairly sure the entire galaxy would be the blast radius. Even if we were both trained Jedi I’d insist on being the one who came along, because I’d rather see you alive instead of a sort of faint ozone sheen in the air.”

“What is taking you so long, Vader?” Palpatine demanded, stalking over. “By this point, someone in this room should be dead. This delay is entirely tiresome!”

“All right,” Anakin replied, and pushed Palpatine off the bridge.

“...do you think that counts as dark side or not?” he added, glancing at his son. “I’m genuinely not sure, he was a very old man…”

[johnbrand]

Fathering Normality

“And then I just shoved it right in!”

Luke grunted as he thrust forward, drawing a laugh out of his friend Colton. Luke had been recounting the entire night before to him, going over every detail. How it started as a boner, how that boner led him to a bar, how that bar led him to rubbing up against some girl, and how that girl led him to shooting multiple loads directly into her tight pussy.

“It was exhilarating!” Luke recalled, the natural masculinity giving his voice a gruff, dense texture. “And all I can think about now is…doing it again…and again!”

Luke thrusted once more, trying to relieve the pressure building up in his thick cock. Colton could not help but happily smile along with his friend, very familiar with the experience of breeding a woman himself. In fact, his girlfriend had recently found out she was pregnant. When Colton had first received the news, he had been ecstatic. When Luke had received the news from Colton days later, he had not been.

Just a week ago, Colton and Luke had been in the same positions; Luke dramatically recounting some tale while Colton laid back and listened. Although, that time had been more violent. “What do you mean she’s pregnant?” Luke cried. “What are you two going to do? You’re too young, neither of you have secured jobs. We all just barely graduated from college a few years ago!”

Argument after argument flew by, but eventually Colton could not handle it anymore. His friend was supposed to be supportive, happy for the couple as they were with the situation. Then a strange thought came to Colton’s head–maybe Luke would be more supportive if he was able to see his side of things. 

Colton had shot the bullet directly into Luke’s head without hesitation. There was no way his gay friend could have understood the joy of breeding, fertilizing, and bearing fruit other than by being converted to try it himself. Of course, Luke did not remember the sound of the gun firing, dropping to the floor, or his limp body being handed over to local enforcement. Colton did not even think Luke remembered the past version of himself. And now that Colton had met the new model, he hoped he would soon forget too.

Gay Luke had been fun. A little bit on the shorter, skinnier side, but still a ball of energy. He always had a theatrical flair, and he kept himself well-maintained, but he had commitment issues and terrible spending habits. This Straight Luke though, had nearly made the equally heterosexual Colton blush. He was now much taller, more muscular, with that ball of energy transformed into sheer masculine confidence. Luke still held that capacity to put on a performance, but now it was powerful and captivating. 

Colton had contacted Luke at the end of the incubation period, not knowing what to expect. Yet he would have never predicted the stacked body-builder in a plain, short-sleeved button-up and dirty jeans appearing at his door. Sure, there were some things Colton felt a little guilty about. Luke’s former luscious locks had thinned out and shortened into a tiny quiff afflicted by male pattern baldness. His hygiene had definitely taken a hit; Colton had smelt the new funk as soon as those massive shoes had come off at the door. But the conversion affected everyone differently, so because Luke appeared obliviously overjoyed with heterosexuality, Colton felt that he could be too.

“So I just started countin’ as I rammed in. ‘One, two,’” Luke continually thrusted to display his point. “And eventually, it had to be like on 15 or 16, I felt that first burst of ecstasy. After that I lost count, I just went into hyper-mode.”

Colton chuckled, getting up to grab us some beers. He tossed one to Luke.

“Thanks bro,” Luke cracked his cold one open. “By the way, what did you call me over for anyway?”

“Oh man, I thought I already told you,” Colton half-lied. “My girl’s pregnant: I’m gonna be a dad.”

Luke’s eyes lit up, “DUDE! That’s awesome! Congratulations!! God, if only I could be so lucky, right?” 

Colton cheered to that, smirking at the possibility. He had been right when he had chosen to father normality. Thanks to him, one could metaphorically say he would soon be fathering twice the amount of children as a result of Luke’s conversion.

[solkara]

❛ 𝐅𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐎𝐑 𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 , jacaerys velaryon and baela targaryen ❜

⌗ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 , you were born a fighter you had to be the life you lived didn't allow you the liberty of comfort growing up not knowing any form of affection until they came

⌗ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 , jacaerys velaryon x fem! fighter! reader x baela targaryen

⌗ 𝐬𝐨𝐥'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 , okay so ngl this was only meant to be one part but I just had so many idea's. also I know the request said jace and luke but I couldn't help but add my girl baela but dw their is gonna be some platonic luke in the next part heheh

house of the dragon masterlist , next part

⌗ since the day you were born you were alone. your father left you before you were born. your mother died giving birth to you. so from the moment you took your first breath. you were completely and utterly alone. you weren't high born. meaning your name bore you no luxuries nor status to fall back on. you had nothing.

⌗ so like every other common born you turned to the extremes to make ends meet. and your method just so happened to be the most dangerous of them all. fighting. now fights weren't uncommon in kings landing. especially child ones. often done in dark alleyways where hoards of drunks and gamblers came to spectate.

⌗ and while it wasn't the most pleasant thing in the world it paid rather well if you were the winning party. and it was better than becoming a whore. so you tried your hand at it at the ripe age of nine. and haven't looked back since. the fights started off small. meaning small payouts.

⌗ but once you developed a reputation of being undefeated you graduated from street fights with other children and drunks to the big leagues. arena fights. it was no secret that the royals and highborns of king's landing enjoyed watching arena fights. with most betting ridiculous amounts of money on a certain fighter.

⌗ praying to the seven they can reap the rewards. but the more money they gambled the more money there was to be paid out to the winning fighter. which is why you had signed up for every arena fight since the age of sixteen.

⌗ your first had been a memorable one. with everyone counting you out from the jump. which didn't surprise you. as you were surrounded by experienced and stronger fighters. but by playing your cards right you were the last woman standing.

⌗ three years later and you were still undefeated and had become a favourite among the gambling highborn's. as not only were you a safe gamble. but you were also entertaining to watch. life was good. you had more money than you knew what to do with. when you weren't fighting you spent your days in the peace and quiet of your newly purchased home. until the next fight rolled around.

⌗ which just so happened to be a very special one. the fight was in honour of prince jacaerys velaryon's name day. to you it was run of the mill. all you had to do was go out there and win.

⌗ jace sat up on the balcony with his family. waiting for the fight to begin. truth be told he hated events like these. senseless violence that was passed off as exceptionable entertainment. but unfortunately he would have to bare though this as this was being thrown in his honour.

⌗ as he sat between his brother luke and his betrothed baela. he watched as the fighter flooded out of the gates and into the arena. jace's eyes were immediately drawn to a certain individual. she looked the same age as him and baela. though her body was far more toned and littered with scars. wearing scraped silver armour plating. she was as beautiful as she was intimidating.

⌗ and it seemed his betrothed agreed. "she's beautiful isn't she?" baela whispered to him. to which he could only nod. as the two watched the fight on the edge of their seat. the pair knew that they enjoyed duck and goose and were honest with each other very early on in their betrothal. so they had no problem admitting they found another attractive. or inviting them to their bed. and as the two silently looked at each other they knew they had to speak to you. even if it was just once.

⌗ as the fight drew to a conclusion and you once again stood victorious over the rest. walking out of the arena and into the fighter's area. you collected to earnings for the night. but as you went to leave you were stopped by a guard. who informed you that you had been summoned to the royal box.

@avatar4life , Gio, can I get a headcanon for Jacaerys and Lucerys, can be either platonic or romantic your pick, and can you make it about a reader being an arena fighter and them trying to save her and gain her trust? And she's tall and buff with scars scattered around her body. Hope you have a good day or night or evening!!

[ma1dita]

love like a blister

the five stages of loving losing luke

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

words: 4.7k 

summary: (post-tlt) set directly after lovers, or partners in crime; The one where you learn to mourn someone even if they're still alive. Loving him and losing him are one and the same; the aftermath of his betrayal. this work references a lot of previous works in the series! (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)

a/n: yeah… yall been asking for this so buckle up. luke is not present in this one, moreso you/trouble dealing with the after. i let annabeth breakdown a bit since ep 8 was amazing but felt choppy to me. this is not the end of the trouble!verse i promise!!

(posted 2/12/24, betaed by mootie lari @mrsaluado)

—

DENIAL - bursting under pressure

we grew up together, what do you mean you grew into a person i can’t love?

Annabeth and Percy find you standing at the edge of the forest clearing—staring at the space where you let the love of your life vanish into thin air. 

You let him leave. 

It’s almost harrowing when the three of you make eye contact, not a single weapon in your possession, only your dying lantern and heart bleeding with the confirmation of Luke’s betrayal. 

Knees shaking as Annabeth stalks over and her sword still raised with tears in her eyes, she’s no longer Luke’s little sister but a formidable warrior set on protecting camp—on protecting Percy.

And you failed in doing either of those things you promised yourself at the beginning of this summer because you ignored the signs of Luke’s behavior— until this very moment. There’s a pressure in your head that dampens your senses, overtaking the control you have over your being as you deny any knowledge of what happened tonight. 

Because in truth, you put the pieces together at the same time they did, just a little too late. She looks at you now with the fury she wasn’t able to project on the real traitor.

“You knew,” she grits her teeth, on the defensive as Percy scrambles up from the ground.

“Annie, I…”

Percy stares at you in horror, a few steps back with Riptide in his injured grasp, and suddenly he understands what it means to see you break. They both feel it instantly as your lantern goes out. Heavy despair drapes over all of you as the madness rips its way through your body, almost breaking through your skin as it emanates through the air. The two children had never felt anything like it before, swords shaking in their hands as they’re filled with the sensation until it bubbles over and they can’t do anything but watch you, their usually poised head counselor lose your grip on reality.

But this can’t be real. 

Out of all of the plans you both made, it was never deemed a possibility that Luke wouldn’t be there with you. Now you stand in the darkness of the forest, hands raised in surrender to a crime you didn’t commit.

There’s so much pressure and it hurts holding it all in, hurts so badly—everywhere until you scream.

“DAD!”

You stare at their small faces surrounding you in anguish, both of them talking but not a single word registers in your mind as you keep shaking your head and screaming for your father for the first time in your life. Before the words the words can form between your lips again Dionysus is there, not as an immortal god but carrying the wrath of a protective father, and there are no forces that can fight against that.

It all moves fast from there, black spots blurring your vision brought by the sheer strength of your tears. Though you don’t feel strong right now, instead there’s nothing that can describe the feeling but hurt as you’re frozen in pain.

The kids watch Mr. D check you for any injuries, but what they’ll never understand is that the wounds Luke left behind are on the inside, and you are bleeding. He shushes you, but the words fight their way out of your mouth, almost in disbelief. “Did I do that to him?”

Your father scoops you into his arms, godly strength and fatherly concern surfacing as he cradles you like a little girl like he should have all those years ago.

The haze clears as Mr. D quells the misery that reverberates through the air and it’s quiet again as your eyes fall shut. For a moment, Percy can’t help but wonder if this is another performance of yours, another way to throw him off of the traitor’s scent. But as your hand falls out from under Mr. D’s arm, he grabs onto it anyway. The son of Poseidon remembers how you and Luke always looked at each other like you were equals, and realizes that for once, the actress was outplayed at her own game.

ANGER - words leaking like an abscess

i never knew loving someone so much would be a crime

There isn’t a protocol set in place for when one of your cabin counselors and all-star campers defects with plans to wage war on the gods. There is even less of a precedent set in place for when the head counselor and daughter of the camp director is left to pick up the pieces, hands dirtied by the evidence he left behind. Perhaps your job description was never truly clear anyway.

All you know now is that you’ve been sitting in a rickety wooden chair in your dad’s office for hours now, tied up—for formalities. 

This must be your punishment from the gods for every way you were different. Maybe if you were braver, maybe if you didn’t force yourself to only see the good in him, maybe then maybe, he could’ve been saved too. Surely undoing all of that would be considerably less painful than being questioned by everyone you love about the one you love. 

For once you didn’t have any good answers.

“Like I said to Chiron. I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t know what? Use your big girl words. Just do the right thing, like you always say!” Clarisse barks in your face. The centaur tuts at the daughter of Ares, making her step back and cross her arms. The boys are more silent but still suspicious, and Lee asks if you really thought Clarisse was the traitor.

“I didn’t. I was the last one to know,” you grit, looking at Percy who surveys you with hesitant eyes, “I just thought Luke was leaving. I didn’t know why.”

“How do we know you’re not working for Kronos too?” 

One of them says it, you’re losing track as to who when you blink hard and long, but the words spill out of you like a festering wound— fast, acidic, and painful.

“Do you REALLY think I could turn my back on my home? My friends? Is that how you all think of me? After everything!”

“You’d do anything for that boy and we all know it,” Silena says with a scowl very unlike her, though you suppose everyone’s out of sorts from exhaustion.

“Not that. That’s where him and I are different. I would never be able to do that.”

You think you hear Silena bite back a sob as she turns away from you, not meeting your eyes.

Mr. D was unable to judge you since you were his only daughter. He’s been gone most of the night and you feel so alone even if the room is filled with familiar faces that don’t even want you here. Charles, Percy, Lee, Clarisse, Silena, Katie stand still as they judge you— Annabeth didn’t even come to the Big House, her mind probably already made up. 

Chiron says there will be a vote, the procedural way—like how you taught the cabin counselors how to handle disagreements, though they were never expecting to vote on your dismissal from camp. Tensions are high, some rightfully angry at the war looming over your heads, others looking at you with pity from the other corner of the room. All of them, your friends, still, you hope.

6 votes, since you and Luke didn’t count, and Annabeth’s abstention. They did it outside, away from your view and you sit in the silence of the office, angry at what’s become of you. Tainted and tarnished, you don’t bother to find out who voted what, knowing things won’t be the same after this. 

Your dad comes back a little before dawn, having asked a favor from Apollo to determine your innocence–to prove that you’re telling the truth. But by then, Charles and Lee are already untying you from your chair and you’re being let go. You wonder what changed once they were able to speak without being in your presence. Remaining seated and staring at all of them with your jaw set in stone-cold wrath, Percy thinks for a moment that you look like Luke.

The first rays of light shine through the window upon your sullen frame— a confirmation from the sun god that your heart was always pure. It still feels like a loss. There’s no medal or award for getting left behind, and winning has always been more of Luke’s thing.

You resign from the position of head counselor by the time sunlight spreads across the campgrounds.

BARGAINING - to make yourself new from the inside out

isn’t home the first place you learn to run from?

You catch Percy at the doorstep of cabin 3 before he leaves and your dad is yelling at all the campers.

“Okay! For those of you who are not staying for the full term… get out! You get out. Pack your bags. You’re going home!” Mr. D screams with a twinkle in his eye as he winks at you, patting you on the head before walking away to drive kids out.

“Didn’t think you’d be up,” Percy mumbles, adjusting his backpack over his shoulder. You’d been locked up in your room since the interrogation with almost no signs of life. He was worried about you—all of them were. They just didn’t know how to say it, after everything.

You stood in front of him in sweatpants and a shirt he’s sure he’s seen Luke wear to sleep before, exhaustion prominent on your face; usually you’re better at hiding it, but there’s no need for false pretenses anymore.

“Last day of camp. Had to end it on a good note,” you say softly, biting your lip, “I heard about what you did, Perce. You didn’t have to. I was going to quit anyway.”

Sometime in the past few days, Chiron came to your cabin to tell you they didn’t vote at all, which was a surprise to you. Percy convinced them not to, reminding them of your efforts as head counselor, and as a friend—the decision was settled quickly after that.

“I knew you didn’t betray us. I was just scared.”

You watch him shift his weight, not losing eye contact as he produces a half-smile. He seems older now after his quest, as many demigods do–though it’s only been a few weeks, he looks like he’s grown more sure of himself.

“That’s okay. I was too.” 

The silence between you is comfortable as both of you listen to the birds in the trees, the distant voices of chattering children, and your heart hurts at the idea of leaving this, even temporarily. As your eyes flicker back to Percy’s, you realize he feels the same way. 

“I hope your mom’s okay, especially after all of this. I just wanted to say goodbye.”

His sandy eyebrows furrow and it’s funny how Percy always looks a little confused.

“You’re leaving camp? I thought…”

“Well I’m not joining Kronos, if that’s what you’re worried about,” you laugh dryly, “It’s getting boring here. Gonna have to change it up soon, I think. See you.” you nod, waving a hand as you turn to walk away.

“Wait!” 

Percy calls your name, skipping down the steps of his cabin and meeting you halfway down the forest path. He’s digging through his jacket pocket, and pulls out two black clay beads with blue tridents etched on the surface as your body grows cold.

“I don’t know what to do with—” “We…the other counselors, this is what we ended up voting on. And I thought you should get an extra, just in case,” Percy mumbles, his voice edged with hope and your face contorts into something like regret. You can’t cry again, even if you wanted to. 

“I wouldn’t pray for something like that,” you whisper shakily.

“I thought you didn’t really pray at all.” 

The kid smiles at you and it makes you wonder what souls like him and Luke must’ve done in their previous lives to deserve fates like this—to fight wars that aren’t their own. To be doomed by the narrative is a treacherous thing, and it is so utterly unfair. 

“Yeah. That was more his style,” you sniff, taking the beads out of his hand, “but I still find myself with a lot of hope.” 

Hope, in a sense, is prayer too. Wishing that things will be better, manifesting and believing that it doesn’t have to end this way. You don’t think Luke will ever come home to you, not really, not all of him, but it’s nice to have something to hang onto. At his core, he was raised to be a soldier, and soldiers don’t always come home.

You decide to drive Percy down the opposite shore to Montauk. It’s a short ride, and he spends the time looking out the window to the sea, thinking of his father— when the car pulls up to the driveway of the beach house, you step out and give him a hug. Soon, he’ll be taller than you.

“Take care of yourself, okay? Need anything and I’m a call away,” you smile, but he sees that it doesn’t reach your eyes.

“Thank you. For being a real friend, even if it hurts you.”

You grab his shoulder to make him look at you, and the distant sound of crashing waves dampens the thoughts running through your head.

“Listen to me. None of this is your fault. I couldn’t save him. Luke’s my biggest failure.”

Your voice wavers and you swallow hard, pushing the tears back down your throat.

“You know, I knew you didn’t know anything about his betrayal because when we were in the forest, I’d never seen you like that before. I couldn’t figure out the feeling, and–”

“I’m sorry you had to see me like that, Perce. I couldn’t hold it in anymore,” you interrupt, but he shakes his head and continues.

“I thought you were sad. It felt like sadness at first, but then I realized it was hatred. And I knew even then that I could never hate you. So I realized that’s how you felt about yourself. I hope someday you don’t feel that way anymore.”

If a few tears slip down your cheeks, Percy doesn’t pay it any mind. He waves at you when he gets to the door.

DEPRESSION - healing takes thick skin

i knew to love would be to lose my mind

After the summer term ended, you spent most of it in bed, hiding away from the world. You wished to be more spontaneous, to up and leave the safe boundaries of the camp you call home, but you’re not quite there yet.

The one good thing about this is your father. Dionysus was at your bedside every morning and night between the work him and Chiron had to do to keep camp running in your absence. His powerful fingers made themselves comfortable stroking your hair as you always find yourself staring at nothing. Your father cured you of what he thought was madness over your life being turned upside down by someone you love, but after the fog cleared, you were left feeling nothing. Numb to the touch, hardened by your hurt like a growing callous.

Impenetrable.

He thinks it’s bittersweet, getting to know you better as you chat late into the night when you can’t sleep, but it breaks his own heart to have the power of Olympus on his side and still not be able to fix you. He knows now what you must have been feeling these past few months, to some extent.

“Sometimes I wonder if I’m dead already,” you mutter as your eyes stare blankly at the glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling. Your dad is sitting at your desk as he signs paperwork, and his eyes flicker to a pinned photo on you wall of you kissing Luke’s cheek in a photobooth. One of the pins is missing a memory, torn and stolen away. 

“Unfortunately, you’re not that lucky. I carried you out of that forest, I’d know,” he mutters, sipping on his Diet Coke. 

“Will it always hurt like this? Losing someone you…” Love.

You can barely even bring yourself to say it, so he sighs and nudges you to move over on the bed, his Hawaiian shirt an eyesore against your bedspread. It makes your lips quirk up to see the god try to fit himself into a full-size as he adjusts to get comfortable.

“Yes. Because if it hurts, it means that it mattered. There is no such thing as love lost if you gave it willingly. You know, your mother and I were never together, but I loved her too.” 

He tucks the duvet under your chin like he’s worried you’ll catch a chill. Your form is still unmoving under the covers as he continues.

“Love is a powerful catalyst. The actions humans do after are a product of that; it brings out the best or the worst in people, especially if you think it’s the only way. You love because you want more time with them. You love someone to life, not to death.”

“Silena said something at the Big House. She said that everyone knew I would do anything for him. Where does that leave me? What do I do now?”

Your eyes shut as you feel your dad grab your hand and he chuckles lowly. He knows a thing or two of doing anything for love. He’s gone to the underworld and back—twice, for his mother Semele and his true love, Ariadne. And he’d do it again for you, if he ever had to. “You’re not broken, kid. You’re in love. It’s the purest emotion the gods have bestowed onto humans, and it is a gift, even if it doesn’t work out. Love is insanity.  I think you and I know it best.”

“I guess I’m a lot more like you than I like to admit,” you scoff, leaning against his arm. 

“Don’t sound so excited, daughter of mine,” he says playfully, and he seems so human now as he laughs. The two of you have a gift of fixing people, but perhaps you were both blind to who needed it the most until this very moment. Sitting there in the quiet a little longer, it doesn’t feel so bad to be the favorite daughter of Dionysus. Maybe when you’re ready to get out of these walls, you’ll be able to say it with pride.

ACCEPTANCE - to be soft again takes strength

in another life, we would’ve mattered more than choosing sides

“He always hated it when you smoked, you know.”

You cough through a puff, boots slightly slipping in the sleet of the gravel driveway as you turn to face Annabeth. Besides the fact that her father’s house is grander than anything you could ever imagine yourself living in, there’s a large distance between the two of you as she stands on the steps, the box you left on the doorstep slowly being dotted with falling snow. You left the car running, thinking she wouldn’t want to see you after everything that’s happened.

“Well he probably hates a lot of things about me now,” you say grimly. 

It’s been a growing habit to want to feel something, the rush of nicotine through your bloodstream—even if it’s bound to rip years off your life. It doesn’t really matter as much anymore.

I hate a lot of things about me too, you think, remembering a white house on a hill even if it was a distant dream— these thoughts all go up in smoke as you watch her sit down on the stoop waiting for you to come sit down with her.

Your hands fidget as you find a place next to her, putting out the cigarette on the red brick as the ash falls onto your chipped nail polish. It burns, but Annabeth watches you, the both of you stone-faced.

“What made you drive all the way out here?”

She opens the box and tries to hide a shaky breath at it’s contents but the vapor in the air betrays her. You can still tell a thing or two about people acting, but you’re never too sure anymore.

“I got a few days off from class. Dad Iris messaged me, told me there were new kids in 11 who needed bunks, so… he thought it was time. It was sitting in my room when I got there.” She notices you call Mr. D your dad now, but doesn’t say much of it. She’s also getting used to calling her father that after all these years.

You pull out the quilt you gave Luke the night before you got claimed, a faded pink and purple pattern worn from the years of use and wrap it around her shoulders. It still smells like him, citrus and musk and something darker that hangs over your heads and she sniffles.

“So you’re a college girl now, huh? Never thought you’d do it,” Annabeth mumbles, still not looking at you as her eyes scan through what was hidden underneath the fabric. Luke never had much he held close to his heart, and it’s funny to think his two prized possessions were staring down into a box trying to find the meaning of it all.

“Yeah, me neither,” you sigh. It should’ve been an insult, but you know what she means.

Not without him. 

There’s a lot that you promised each other, but you find yourself doing it all alone–because you have to. The world does not wait for for anyone, even if you beg for it to.

“It’s not a big deal, I’m still on the Island, just…not at home. Just trying to keep myself busy.”

Her hand picks up a polaroid of the two of them—he’s smiling as she peers over his shoulder.

“I think it’s great. You’re too hard on yourself sometimes.”

Other memories are scattered in the box including a leather bracelet, a compass, unsent letters to his mom, and photos of happier days back when all of your hearts were softer. There’s not much to split between the two of you.

A black clay bead rolls to the inner corner, indicative of this year’s events and painted with turquoise like the eyes of a certain son of Poseidon that now crosses the both of your minds.

“Percy gave it to me before he left for the city, for him. In case.”

You swallow loudly, and you watch her braid it onto the leather cord and tie it around your wrist. Her fingertips are cold as she nods, “In case.”

“You’ve been looking for him, haven’t you?” The movement your head makes is almost imperceptible—not a nod nor a shake, but the daughter of Athena knows you too well by now. She knows you because Luke did too, once upon a time.

“Think I’m trying to find myself now. If he’s still a part of that I don’t know what that says about me.”

The two of you sit there on the stoop of the Chase mansion catching up on the past 7 months even if the both of you can still feel the wall of his memory between you. She doesn’t invite you in to meet her family despite the weather—hesitant to let her mother’s side of life bleed into the new normal she’s created for herself, and you can’t blame her one bit. The both of you have been at war with each other and with yourselves since the end of the summer, when in reality you both know what it’s like to protect the little you have to hang onto and what it feels like to be left behind. Survival mode, until the end.

“Why do you think he did it? I mean, I know why, but…”

Why weren’t we enough?

Annabeth’s mind has always been so brilliant, but sitting in the dim porchlight, you understand now that she’s growing up so quickly. Gone are her baby-soft cheeks, with her cheekbones more prominent as they frame her wise eyes. She’s a teenager now. But Annabeth looks at you like she did long ago, the only person besides Luke who would patiently answer all of her questions. Even if the answers weren’t always what she wanted, you had a way of telling her what she needed to hear.

“I think I’ll be asking the gods why for the rest of my life. And even if they ignore me like they did him, or give me an answer that’s worth the balance of the world, I’ll still never be able to understand it.”

The snow is falling harder now, but neither of you seem to notice. It’s stuck in your hair, dusting your eyelashes as you sit and stare out at the front lawn. She tells you about school, her family, Percy and Grover, and the things you’ve missed about her so deeply—and for a moment you feel like you can be her older sister again, someone who can keep her secrets. Partially, you left home because everyone either doubted you or thought you as fragile. Annabeth always tells you what she’s truly thinking— it’s a breathe of fresh air to let yourself just be.

“I’ve never not had the last word when it comes to him, y’know? I guess I have nothing more to say though.”

You both huddle together for warmth under the quilt, sharing secrets and memories of him, things others wouldn’t understand.

“You know that’s not true,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes, and her smile is as bright as the snowflakes in her ebony tresses.

“What I do know is that you know too damn much,” and you both start giggling softly, teary eyed and feeling what you’ve been keeping in for months now, from each other and the rest of the world.

“I’m sorry,” she mutters suddenly, and your name falling from Annabeth’s mouth sounds almost as unfamiliar as her apologizing. It shouldn’t have to have been like this. You’re not going to lose the only person who remembers him like you do, who hurts like you. 

“Me too.”

She leans her head on your shoulder like how she would when you used to sing her to sleep, and deep down Annabeth knows that she won’t let the only good part of her brother go either. What tore the two of you apart brings you back together, because if you don’t have him you still have each other.

The door to the estate opens up slowly, it’s well-oiled hinges silent like the two sad girls’ whispers. Dr. Chase steps out to see you two illuminated by the light of his home, hand in hand over a box of memories and wrapped in a pink and purple quilt that Annabeth will hold close to her like she does her mother’s hat. 

“You two ladies causing trouble?” he smiles, his eyes wild with a thirst to know more and it’s a look you’ve seen his daughter give you one too many times.

You can’t help but chuckle at the irony and though he means well, the all-consuming feeling that comes with the name, Luke’s name for you– ignites in your heart once more. No one will ever call you trouble again, not in the way he did. It burns like alcohol running through your veins almost unendurable and you want to will it away, but Annie’s patting your arm as she tries to stifle the flames with her cold fingers.

“Her?” she says knocking her shoulder against yours, “ Always.” 

Annabeth laughs, and that too, reminds you of him but it doesn’t hurt as much anymore, your body still warm in the winter Virginia air. You feel your chest shake and suddenly you’re laughing and it’s crazy and loud and maniacal and so you that you can barely see Annabeth through the tears rolling down your cheeks. It cuts around the dead skin that’s encapsulated your being these past few months, revealing something brand new—much softer, even if it’s still tender to the touch.

It’s still you, still hurting, but choosing to live despite it.

Because you have to.

—

“Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever had to do. Being loved by you is the hardest.“

- Ari B. Cofer

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

[lilislegacy]

Okay, I’ve been thinking about something lately

All the time I see people make statements about Percy that start with “Percy would never…”

Some examples I’ve seen: “percy would never kill someone/something in front of his mom” “percy would never yell at someone he loves” “percy would never get drunk” “percy would never let his child go to camp-half blood”

Now if you passionately believe one of those, hear me out. I’m not necessarily saying I disagree!

I’m saying… who would have ever thought Percy would torture a goddess and choke her on her own poison? And…. enjoy doing it? If someone had said that on tumblr pre-HoH, every single comment and reblog would have been “PERCY WOULD NEVER!!” I mean, who would have thought Percy would do a million things he’s done? He’s done some very not so ‘silly little guy’ stuff. He is an extremely complex character. In his own head and to some people, he’s sweet and fun and silly, but to many people he’s reckless and scary and dangerous. Some people see him as someone who’s very gentle and relaxed, but some people see him as someone who’s quick to get very angry and cause destruction. And the truth is, he’s all of it. It depends on his mood. Consistency does not apply to him in many aspects. He has consistent traits, like loyalty, humor, and bravery, but his actual actions and reactions are NOT consistent. I understand why we think Percy would never do certain things. We think we know based off of his past and his history with his mom, or with Gabe, or with Luke. And I’m not saying I think he would do those things, but unless he specifically states it, we can NOT, ever, infer what Percy Jackson might or might not do.

Like for instance, the drinking thing. I am not saying percy would be a big drinker, if one at all. And he probably does have an aversion to the smell of beer because of how the apartment used to smell when he was young. But we have no evidence that Percy associates all alcohol with Gabe. Alcoholic drinks aren’t just foul smelling hard liquors. There are a million different forms that you can consume alcohol in - some of which don’t even smell like alcohol, and barely taste like it. And in The Chalice of the Gods, it’s said that Sally drinks a glass of wine every night. And Percy thinks Sally hangs the freaking moon. So if his mom drinks, he definitely doesn’t believe that alcoholic beverages = the enemy. And here’s the thing, if Annabeth and Piper and Leo were all drinking and having a good time, like college students do, and they go “Hey Percy, come sit and have a drink with us!” there’s a very good chance that he’s so comfortable with his best friends, and just wants to let loose and be a college kid, that he wouldn’t even think about Gabe. He’d just be like “Sounds fun! Count me in!” But I don’t know. That’s the point. I don’t know. Maybe he would, maybe he wouldn’t. I truly think it could go either way. And even if he does drink, maybe he never - not even once - gets drunk. Maybe he’d drink in college and as a young adult, but when he becomes a father one day, he decides he doesn’t want his children to ever smell so much as a drop of alcohol on his breath, and therefore completely stops drinking. Or maybe he doesn’t ever like it, even in college. Or maybe he’s like his mom, and he and Annabeth just have a glass of wine with dinner. Who knows?

Not us. That’s what I’m saying. WE don’t know.

I’m not saying we can’t have headcanons based on what we know about him. I have a million. But the point is, I feel like we can’t try to pretend like we actually know what Percy wouldn’t do. As a fandom, we analyze him and his choices WAY more than he ever thinks about a single choice. He definitely does not think about his life and his actions as much as we do. (I’m not saying that he’s dumb or doesn’t contemplate his life and his actions, but he doesn’t nearly do it to the degree that we do.) Us, we pretend like it’s simple math. (Our first mistake, since math is consistent and full of rules, which is the exact opposite of Percy’s character.) We go “okay luke did this and gabe did this so therefore percy would never do this.” But Percy doesn’t think that way most of the time, especially not in heat of the moment matters. The only thing we 100% know about Percy is that he will always be loyal to his loved ones. But even then, we don’t know what that loyalty will look like. Is it sacrificing himself for someone? Is it murdering the enemy? Is it manipulating someone else? Percy lives in the moment. He doesn’t often think too much before he acts. He just acts. Whether it’s in a life of death situation, or his after school activity for the day. He is unpredictable, like the ocean. It’s one of his defining traits.

Honestly, I think that’s why annabeth is so drawn to him. With everyone else, she can read them super easily and know their next move. But with Percy, she has no idea. Which is frustrating to her, but also exciting. It’s a big part of her initial attraction to him. It’s also why many of us like him so much. We don’t know what’s coming next, and we never know what he will do in a situation. Like, how could we possibly know what he would or wouldn’t do when HE doesn’t even know? Half the time I don’t think Rick himself even knows.

We become so sure that Percy wouldn’t do something because we understand his character so well, right? But I think the truth is, the minute we become certain about what Percy would or wouldn’t do, is the minute we don’t understand his character at all.

Thank you for reading my analysis of Percy on why we can’t reliably analyze Percy

[peonysgreenhouse]

-`♡´- return.

summary: the obey me datables & luke react to mc coming back to life!

tags: obey me datables (simeon, solomon, diavolo, barbatos) x gn!reader, luke & gn!reader, hurt/comfort, implied character death, mentions of violence in solomon's parts, solomon goes a little crazy teehee

i. simeon

he sees you there, in the celestial realm. he had known your soul was pure from the very beginning, but seeing you among the angels was like a knife to his gut, a reminder of his failures to protect you. 

you weren’t supposed to be here, not now, at least. it was far too early for you to die. simeon can’t help but feel bitterness well up within him as you turn from michael to look for someone in the crowd (he knew it was him. he hoped it was him).

your features light up – simeon feels his heart skip a beat. even now you were just as he last remembered you, he had always taken the time to visit you in the devildom, even after his internship was over. you more beautiful than any angel he had ever seen. 

you embrace him tight, and the tighter you squeeze the more he feels like he can’t breathe, the combating feelings waging a war in his mind. he should’ve been watching over you; what kind of guardian angel was he to let his human die like this?

“i’m sorry,” he doesn’t know why his voice cracks when he says it. simeon? losing his composure? he had garnered many millennia of years of experience working to keep it up. “i’m sorry i didn’t protect you.”

“it’s okay simeon,” he feels your hands squeeze the back of his cloak. a wicked thought crosses his mind; maybe if you dug your nails in harder he would have some penance for his failures. if you cut through the bone and marrow and reached his heart then maybe his father would forgive him – maybe you would forgive him for his short-comings. “i’m here now.”

“right,” he breathes you in as if to convince himself. simeon feels the strength of his bond with you overwhelm him, he can feel how much you care for him and he feels his chest fill with warmth, chasing away his guilt, if for the moment. “you’re here forever. with me. nothing can hurt you here, i promise.”

ii. luke

luke had always told you to be mindful of demons, that they were evil creatures who would take any opportunity to kill you. it had seemed that his warning had proved true in the worst way. if only he hadn’t been a cherub; if uriel had promoted him to be your guardian angel like he had asked, maybe this could’ve been avoided.

but he was overwhelmed with how happy he was at the fact that you would be spending time with him forever in the celestial realm. he had wanted nothing more ever since you had become friends in the devildom. you were the one light for him in the exchange program.

“you’re here!” luke chirps, sprinting down the golden bricks of the road to the archangels’ house. “you’re really–!” you’re suddenly enveloped in a hug as luke wraps himself around your waist. 

“hello luke!” you smile from ear to ear, ruffling up his neat hair. usually, he’d make a comment about you not treating him like a child, but for now it seems he’s too busy nuzzling into you. “it’s good to see you again.”

“yes! i’m happy to see you,” he pulls away, cheeks visibly flushed. “i’m sorry that i wasn’t there to protect you from those mean old demons but… everything will be fine now that you’re here!”

“would you like to give them a tour of the celestial realm?” michael chimes in with a smile, the younger angel’s eyes lighting up like a christmas tree.

luke nods excitedly, taking your hand in his, already tugging you out of the estate: “we have so much to do! we can’t waste any time!”

iii. solomon

solomon spirals hard.

there was a reason solomon pushed everyone away, why most people in his life were kept an arms length apart. he got too attached to things; to power, to magic, to anything that gave him that needed adrenaline rush… why would you be any different? you, the only person he has ever loved had been snatched out of his hands.

and worst of all, he had been powerless to save you. 

all the magic and demon pacts and connections in the world couldn’t stop you from bleeding out in his arms. humans like you were much too fragile for his liking; he had worked tirelessly his whole life to be anything but.

if he couldn’t get what he wanted from the damned, he would have to turn his eyes to the celestial realm. if he had to tear down the heavens and bring you crashing back down to earth, he’s sure he would. 

making bonds with angels was much more difficult than that of demons, but he found after nights of endless research that plucking a few of their feathers would get them to sing. 

he’s covered in golden ichor when he manages to bring you back – a life for a life. he finally was able to do it, not only to bring a human back to life, but to bring you back. solomon rises, shakily, as you feel your body materialize out of the magic sigil etched into the floor. he smiles gently, looking at you as if you were the only thing that mattered.

so why do you look back at him with such horror?

iv. diavolo

he had bargained with the archangels before, but never for a life.

in all accounts, a human choosing to leave the celestial realm and go to the devildom was unheard of. being cast out of heaven was notoriously the worst punishment anyone could receive.

but you do, you would always choose him over all the luxuries and beauty of the heavens every single time. it was true that love made people do stupid things.

michael sends you back to the devildom months after diavolo’s terms were set, a gift with the price of owing the ruler of the celestial realm a favor. michael was known for his kindness, but diavolo knew that there was more to him than that. he was smart enough to know that michael would never jeopardize the devildom, but angels never forgot debts owed. it was a risk, but one diavolo had no choice but to take. 

above all the benevolence and good-will he draped himself in, at his core, he was a selfish demon; perhaps moreso than anyone else in the devildom. 

he holds you against his chest the whole night. in the morning, he’d have duties and meetings to go to. but for now, you were his. 

“little one,” he mumbles into your hair, hands tight around your waist, “make a pact with me. that you may be at my side forevermore.”

v. barbatos

in so many other timelines he sees you, shining, alive. he starts to resent the other versions of himself for being happy with you (or even worse, happy with any of the others). barbatos could pull you out as easily as he could breathe; he had a mastery over his powers that other lower demons could only imagine. 

but it wouldn’t be the same, he reminds himself, it wouldn’t be his version of you. 

he knew the way to get you back, it’d be to break his own rule: do not interact with the past. diavolo had given him permission to bring you back, it would be a stain on the exchange student program if one of the humans came back dead after the second semester. but he wasn’t so sure, what if the you he brought back wasn’t the you he remembered? 

barbatos does it anyways, knowing he can’t refuse an order from his lord. the you in the celestial realm will be erased from existence replaced with the you of the past, the one who doesn’t know what it’s like to die. the two can only hope it doesn’t cause drama in the celestial realm.

“barbatos?” you question as you walk in the gardens with him, completely oblivious to it all. if he hadn’t been so happy that you had returned, he would feel guilty for not telling you of your death. sometimes, ignorance was bliss. “are you okay? you seem more quiet than usual.”

“do i?” he muses, forcing a soft smile for you. “i’m afraid i’m simply just a bit tired. sleep evaded me last night.” the last part wasn’t a lie.

“sorry to hear that,” you pout, “if you want to go nap, you should!

“do you not wish to spend time with me?”

“it’s not that…” you kick at the ground, arms crossed behind your back. “it’s just we have all the time in the world though, right? i want you to be rested when we’re together.”

he feels as if you’ve struck him with an arrow to his chest. barbatos sees your lifeless body in his mind, did you know and were trying to taunt him? or were you simply just this sweet?

“i suppose you’re right.” he nods his head, “but you’re coming with me.”

[ofswordsandpens]

Okay compiling my most critical opinions on the pjo show so far (episodes 1 & 2)

The Gods' Conflict, Foreshadowing, & Big Three Kids

The show has seemingly dropped a lot of the foreshadowing and threat regarding the gods impending war over the theft of the lightning bolt. In the book, Percy remarks about how the weather's been inexplicably weird and extreme. When he gets to camp everyone is on pins and needles about something and they don't want to talk about it but its still very present. By the time he's claimed as a son of Poseidon and everyone's like "oh fuck" and then Chiron finally explains to Percy that the gods think he's the lightning thief, everything clicks into place for the reader. It all makes sense why everything seems so wrong... because things are wrong. Meanwhile in the show, that doesn't carry through as much, so the reveal of the conflict between the gods and why that's a big deal falls flat in comparison imo.

They dropped/stalled the foreshadowing of the fates and the cutting of the string. They could very well include this in future episodes, and probably will, but I think the timing of it - Percy seeing this before he even knew he was a demigod - again carries some hefty significance and helped set the foreboding tone of things being wrong even from the beginning.

They did drop Zeus's attack on Percy in the minotaur battle completely, which does disappoint me. In the book, its lightning that blasts the car off the road. In the show, Sally seemingly loses control of the car. That change is pretty significant, because it's again losing the power of RR's foreshadowing in the book. The attack on Percy outside the camp borders was a duel attack from Zeus and Hades.

Finally, I don't like the changes they made to Percy's claiming scene, namely, the reaction from the rest of CHB. Percy being a son of Poseidon is a huge deal. When Percy's claimed, the attitude is very much begrudging reverence paired with genuine fear of what it means and what he represents. In the book, Percy is claimed. People gasp. Everyone kneels. Annabeth says, "This is really not good." In the show, Percy is claimed. People... stand there? Annabeth smiles - she's going to get her quest. The only person who has the most outright negative reaction is Luke. I won't go so far to say this is out of character for Annabeth, but it is focusing on an entirely different aspect of her character in the moment, and what the audience gets from Percy's claiming scene here, the tone, is now different from the book. Basically, the reverence and fear don't really carry across to the show, which I think is important.

The phrase "forbidden child" slaps tho.

2. Gabe's Characterization, Sally's Characterization, & Why the Changes do Make a Difference

I'm going to say this with great care: The show has absolutely depicted an abusive relationship between Sally and Gabe. The show has shown Sally to be a strong woman who would do anything for her child. The show has shown Gabe to be a controlling, toxic man.

What they have depicted in the show does not read like the characters and dynamic in the books.

Book Gabe is a violent, menacing drunk. He is so disgusting and vile that monsters avoid him. This is overwhelmingly apparent from the second Percy gets home in the book, even before he is aware of the physical abuse Sally has been facing. Percy has already been dealing with physical abuse from him, amongst other things (edit to be more specific: this is including verbal, emotional, & financial abuse). I've already spoke to it here, in-depth, so I'll try to keep it short but all of this has not been translated accurately to the screen. (Is this to say that a person must be overtly abusive to be abusive? No. But does this character on-screen feel like Smelly Gabe? No.) These things have shaped Percy (and Sally) in very specific ways. As others have mentioned: Percy cannot stand alcohol. He meets Dionysus and is reminded of his step-father. He gets to Tartarus and the air reminds him of Gabe.... The character on screen, while abusive, does not share this presence at all, and that makes a difference.

Edit: To emphasize once more, I am not saying that the show has not depicted a realistic portrayal of abuse. It has (verbal, emotional, & financial so far). It has also distinctly changed the tone and Gabe's presence from the book, to the extent that it no longer feels like the same character and that does have a rippling effect on the dynamics he shares with both Sally and Percy.

3. The Lack of Annabeth

Annabeth in the show is just like... really not as present as she is in the book so far, and I'm just kinda like, why lol?

Annabeth in the books is already way more involved in Percy's life. She was in the infirmary feeding Percy ambrosia after the attack (ulterior quest motives lol), she's the one who lead Percy around camp and re-explained godly parentage to him - and its a moment where she's very sincere with him, and even trying to help him! Instead these moments are given to Chiron and Luke, which I do get the merit of, but still, these were her moments!

Annabeth in the books had already surmised that the gods were fighting, something was stolen, and the something bad was going to happen, all before Percy had even been claimed. And she shared that with him! Again, the loss of foreshadowing and little bonding moments has me :(

I'm a little worried how they're going to deal with her crush on Luke because its pretty central to her character in the books! It helps Luke to manipulate her and also keeps her from admitting he's done something wrong. Also, it was very sweet and funny reading her get flustered - It drove home the point that she was just a kid with a crush that she didn't know how to handle. But in the show Luke spoke to her and I was expecting there to be some sort of reaction to it and there just... wasn't? (This is not something I'm laying at Leah's feet btw! Only the writers/directors!) We're only two episodes in tho so maybe we'll see it some more moving forward.

4. The Minotaur Battle

Again, I've already spoken about this in depth here but !!

The lack of Zeus's lightning strike, them all coming to a standstill and just chatting instead of running for their lives, Grover being awake and just sort of off to the side watching the fight, Sally being like "Promise Me Grover Swear it"... it all just doesn't ring right to me

I wanted more panic, more terror, more urgency. Higher stakes. I wanted Grover unconscious, I wanted to see Percy drag him into camp, and I wanted to see more of Percy's grief alongside his rage. Like the book did.

The pacing in the show here, and just overall, is weird

5. Other Stuff

Mrs. Dodds fight kind of fell flat too. It was honestly too sudden and Percy killing her in the show seemed even more accidental than in the book lol. Like, accidental impalement vs intentional swing of the sword.

They really had show Grover throw Percy to the wolves and not just gaslight him, but low-key have a part in getting him expelled? Not sure how I feel about it tbh.

More New York. I wish we had gotten the part of Percy taking the bus home with Grover included cause like? Him ditching Grover was funny, but it would have been the perfect opportunity to show Percy traveling through New York and establish it has his home. Shots of him looking at the city, walking the streets, interacting with people near his building.. yeah.

More Montauk too tbh. Like more shots of him and Sally on the beach rather than just the cabin.

Nectar and Ambrosia! Unless I missed it, which I might have, why have we still not gotten an onscreen depiction of it yet lmao.

[yourlocalgrass]

Sometimes I think… what’s with Barbatos just casually adopting some of the most powerful beings in the realms to exist??

Like, first we have Solomon right? He gets summoned, this kid on the floor on the verge of death, and he’s like. Hm… fair enough. Got no choice but to adopt you. Takes him to fountain of knowledge and all and makes a pact before or after since we don’t know. And let me say, he knew this this boy is boutta be the most powerful sorcerer to exist before he was summoned and all of that happened, so it’s not like he didn’t know.

Then we have Diavolo and honestly the most funniest one here. Visiting his future son from time to time, all fun and giggles until the lil guy thought he could lock him up. He also had some real dedication because Dia also used some so special tea leaves to blackmail him. And guess what? Barbatos first impression was: Cute. A cute lil child. That’s the entire reason my guy decided to adopt the next Demon King (probably not the entire reason still) and we can also see how Barbatos has to do every teeny thing for Diavolo and how much of a father he is to him so we can see the point here it’s pretty obvious

You thought that was it? Nope. Next we have guess who? Luke. Luke?? You thinking, sure they do have an adopted father-son relationship, also the first demon who Luke admitted to not minding spending time with, and all but- nuh uh. I’ll just quickly quote:

“Luke’s blessing is very powerful. It even rivals what angels higher in the hierarchy is the Celestial Realm are capable off” :From Simeon, by the way. Somewhere in S3

I mean, if our tiny chihuahua is this powerful at this young age (well, in angel years let’s say) imagine how powerful he would be after experience and older (again, in angel years).

Conclusion: Barb likes to casually adopt crazy powerful beings and being a strange adoptive father in some way to each of them (also shows them in different ways I mean you can see the difference between the 3)