#Moonlight Angst

[stickidystickblog]

Usually Starlight can handle it. She can put on a brave face and be happy and cheerful and act as if nothing as wrong. She can hold herself together for Sun, for the kids, even for the damaged lunar animatronic himself. But sometimes... Sometimes it’s just too much for her to handle. I wanted to draw Starlight coping with a vanny virus infected Moon. In my au he’s drastically different from the Moon she’s used to. He still shares a love for pranks and creepy antics but is far more violent and less inclined to speak with her in anything other that cryptic chuckles and short repeated phrases. He’s in there somewhere, she knows it. Her Moon. But he doesn’t recognize her sometimes. Tries his best to scare her at other times. It gets hard to handle, especially when she’s also got to try and keep Sun calm on top of keeping Moon from hurting anyone. It’s almost like she’s mourning the loss of one of her loves when he’s actively right there in front of her. The Moon she knew and loved may never come back and she’s not been given the proper space to process that.

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Daisies and Haircuts

Summary: Logan x Fe!Reader -> Usually, Logan can get a read on everybody. Except, when it comes to you, he can't. So he makes it his mission to find out the truth, but when he does...he doesn't exactly know how to take the news.

Disclaimer: Mostly fluff with a bit of angst, some steam towards the end. Descriptions of blood, casualties and aftermath of a tornado. Not Proof Read.

If there was one thing Logan prided himself on, it was being able to tell when people were lying or telling the truth. 

However, from the minute he met you…he didn’t have an explanation for it. 

Most of the time, he could hear people’s heartbeats or their breathing. Both would quicken when they were lying. Even the best liars couldn’t hide from him. 

But there was something about you he just couldn’t shake. Your voice didn’t change or shake, your heartbeat didn’t speed or falter - neither did your breathing. 

And yet he didn’t believe a word you said when it came to you being human. 

Professor Xavier had reached out to you to fill in one of the teaching positions when he met your cousin. And from his knowledge, your entire family was mutant. From grandmother, to grandfather, to cousins, to even siblings. 

And somehow, you were the only human. 

No mutant gene detected. 

And even if his school did have a reputation for having mutant teachers, you were the first human to attend the school in any manner. 

“Logan, if you’re gonna just stand there all day, you might as well offer to help.”

Your back was completely turned to him. You had been writing on the whiteboard for the last five minutes, not once looking anywhere near the door where he was leaning. 

“How did you know it was me?”

You chuckled a little as he walked inside, picking up a pile of books on the way in. “Please, I could smell the cigar smoke.”

Logan shrugged, placing two books at the end of each desk as he made his way to you. “You know, I can scare Storm, Jean- even Scott. But never you. I wonder why that is?”

Logan stood beside you as you turned. He was looking at you like how he always did. A knowing smile (maybe it was a smirk), but a look of wonder and curiosity in his eyes. 

You just smiled up at him. “Logan, I grew up with over twelve cousins. There wasn’t a day when you didn’t have to have eyes in the back of your head, and still at least one kid ended up hurting themselves.”

Walking around him and back to your desk, his eyes followed you. 

“That’s not the only thing.”

“What ‘thing’ exactly?” 

Sometimes it felt like this conversation between you and Logan happened every other day. You had been working at the school for a little over a year, and before that had shadowed for at least six months to understand how to truly help your kids. 

He had been like this since day one. 

Maybe a little more gruffer and scarier in the beginning…he had made you jump just a little when you closed the fridge door and found him standing there with that sceptical, over-protective look on his face. 

“You know what ‘thing’.”

You shook your head. “I really don’t, Logan.”

He walked closer to your desk and leaned his hands against it, coming face to face with you. “You’re a mutant.”

As he was so close, your eyes scanned his face and around his body. “You need a haircut.”

“It’s not something to be ashamed of.”

“I can cut it for you. Just take a little bit off the sides.” 

“Why do you keep avoiding the subject?” Logan asked with a laughing smile as he stood back up. 

“Because you seriously need a haircut, Logan.” You moved your fingers through the top of his hair. “You look like a crazed mountain man who’s just escaped from Frankenstien’s lab.”

Logan stepped away from you during your analogy. “Are you calling me a green monster?”

“Frankenstein is the Doctor.” 

“Huh.”

You shook your head. “Either way, you need a haircut.”

“Fine, but I will get it out of you sooner or later.” 

“Goodbye, Logan.”

Those were Logan’s final words before he left your classroom, but not before taking a final look at you as your head was turned. 

The next time he saw you was just before lunch when a couple of kids were playing a round of football outside. And for a while, Logan’s eyes remained on you as you read your book. It was like the world didn’t exist outside of your book. 

And yet you were tuned in to everything that was happening. 

Logan heard one of the kids shout before the ball went flying past the posts and it was heading straight for you. He could barely finish shouting your name before…

You caught it. 

Without looking up, you had caught the ball in your hands, simply looked up and then threw it back. “Be careful!”

“Sorry!”

Logan was a little in shock as he stood at the top of the stairs, his arms folded across his chest. He’d seen your reflexes a few times before. You had caught plenty of mugs that were about to fall off the side of the counter, just as you walked into the room. You’d also stopped piles of books crashing loudly to the ground, opened windows just as tennis balls came flying at them, as well as catching them and throwing them back. 

And now you had caught a football without even looking up. 

You hadn’t been at the school two years and yet Logan practically had a list tallied in his head of the things that had happened that simply couldn’t just be explained away. 

Could they?

“Oh, come on. Just admit it. You’re a mutant.”

Your lungs were tired of sighing. “Logan. I’m not a mutant.”

“Your entire family has the mutant gene.”

“So,” you shrugged, twisting some pepper into the pot before replacing the cap and setting it on the side. “It skipped me.”

“Your reflexes are barely human.”

“Logan, like I have told you a million times, I grew up around a lot of kids. A lot of mutant kids who had no control over their powers. I had to get good reflexes just to save on the amount we spend on broken windows.”

Logan moved out of your way as you walked across the kitchen, taking a couple of things from the fridge. 

“You never get scared.”

You looked back at him. “Are you calling me brave?”

“Nobody can scare you, Y/n. Last Halloween it was like you knew when someone was hiding around the corner.”

“It was Halloween. Everyone tries to scare each other on Halloween.”

Logan closed his eyes in frustration for a moment. “Not even Halloween. Nobody can scare you. Even today, you knew I was standing by your door.”

Stopping what you were doing, you looked at him. “Logan, when it comes to you, I can smell the cigar smoke a mile away. And, besides growing up in a household where it was normal to try and scare each other, nobody in this school is exactly going to be the next Prima Ballerina.”

Logan’s arm practically shot out. “That’s another thing! Your sense of smell.”

You rolled your eyes. “Is this about the cigar smoke? Are you becoming nose blind to it?”

“You smelt Scott’s burnt breakfast before the rest of us did. You knew when Rogue had changed her shampoo. You even knew Storm had planted some new flowers in the garden.”

You went to open your mouth but Logan cut you off. 

“And don’t say you saw the flowers because you were with me that whole afternoon and didn’t see Storm until after dinner.”

You sighed. “It wasn’t because I saw the flowers. I was going to say I saw the dirt on her hands when she walked inside. Plus, I knew she was looking to plant more flowers in the garden beds.”

Logan leaned forward. “Did you have a conversation about it?”

“About the flowers?”

“Because I don’t remember her telling us when she was going to plant them because she wanted them to be a surprise.”

You shrugged. “The dirt still gave it away.”

Logan shook his head. “That’s another one right there. You know…how do you know what we’re all thinking? I know you’re not reading our minds because if you were, it would be like when the Professor or Jean does it. No…it’s something else.” 

Logan was truly watching you. Studying you. Listening to your heartbeat. Listening to your breathing. 

“I was a psych major. I studied my ass off and read up extra things in my time. It’s not so hard.” You explained to Logan. “Most of the time it’s just body language. And remembering the small things. They go a long way in getting to know who a person is.”

“I don’t think it’s just that. Maybe it’s part of it.” Logan sat up straight. “But that’s not your whole story.”

“Why are you so fixed on my story?”

Except, rather than explain, Logan gave you that smile again and walked towards the door. “You’re the psych major, you figure it out.”

“You still need a haircut!”

And like clockwork, Logan was watching you and then questioning you everyday. He’d done it since day one. 

When would he finally realise you were telling him the truth?

A couple of weeks later, you found yourself inside the Professor’s office with Logan and a potential new student and their parents. 

Only, it soon became clear that as much as their child was finally happy to be somewhere where they didn’t stick out like a sore thumb because of their powers, the parents couldn’t have been more uncomfortable. 

“But what about…what about his mutant…problem?” 

You felt your back become straighter as your feet carried you forward, only to feel a small tug from the bottom of your jumper where Logan’s hand was pulling you back to stand beside him. 

“I can assure you, Harry’s mutation is not a problem.”

“Yeah? Tell that to the three teachers he had quit because of him. You know we can’t even walk down our street without parents judging us for letting their kids' favourite teachers walk out on them.”

Harry seemed to fall into himself. “I already said sorry. I didn’t mean for them to-”

“Harry, it’s quite alright. Sometimes people don’t fully understand what it means to teach a mutant like us. Luckily, we have some of the best teachers right here.”

The father looked at both you and Logan. “These are the best?”

“We have a full staff, however most are teaching right now. Harry, this is Professor Logan. He will be your new History teacher and this is Professor Y/n. She will be teaching you some English, but mostly Social Sciences. She is also our school councillor, so if you ever feel you wish to speak to someone, she is the most qualified for the job.”

Harry gave both you and Logan a small smile. 

He moved into his dorm a week later and started classes almost immediately. 

“Okay, fine. Let me ask you this then.”

Logan hadn’t left you alone all day, so you had finally put him to work. Carrying the pile of books you were pulling from the shelves as you rolled along on the ladder. 

“Why give a human a job of school counsellor in a school filled with mutants?”

“Other than the fact I’m qualified for the job.”

Logan shrugged. “Isn’t it better to put someone into the job who understands what the kid is going through? Rather than just put a diagnosis to it?”

You turned round and he looked up to you. “It doesn’t matter if your human or mutant, everyone has gone through something at some point. Maybe I don’t know what it’s like to be able to walk through walls, or have metal grow out of my knuckles. But I do know what it’s like to feel like an outcast. To feel lost. To feel alone.”

Logan just listened as you slowly turned back and started pulling the desired books from the shelves, adding them to the pile in his arms. 

“I might have gone to a normal school, but everyone knew my family was different. I was too mutant to fit in at school, but too human to fit in with my family. They love me, and I love them. But there were times when topics would come up and…I’d feel alone. Like because I wasn’t one of you, I wouldn’t get it. Eventually, everyone grew up and went on with their lives. Of course it wasn’t easy for them, but they still had each other. Even if every other ignorant asshole pushed them away, they still had each other. But some days it felt like…like I had no one.”

Logan just continued to listen. 

“So, I get your point. What would a human know about being a mutant? But sometimes that’s not the question that needs to be asked.”

A moment of silence passed between you both before finally Logan spoke up. “The kids…they’re lucky to have you.”

“Thank you, Logan.”

“And just so you know,” he added. “You’re not alone anymore.”

Looking down at him, you smiled. “I’m glad.”

Twenty minutes later, you were finished collecting books. Yet, just as Logan laid down the pile, half should have fallen onto the floor. 

Except they didn’t. 

Instead they glided off the top and landed in a semi-neat pile beside him with a soft thud. Logan turned around, shock clear on his face. But you weren’t looking at him, or at the pile. You were closing the doors to the outside balcony on the opposite end of the room. 

“One day,” Logan told himself. “One day.”

“What?”

Logan looked up. “Nothing.”

You just shrugged and walked to stand beside him. “Thanks for helping me.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Without looking at him, you flip over the cover of a book in your hands. “You still need a haircut by the way.”

“Don’t mention that, either.”

Two weeks later, as you and Logan were eating lunch together whilst marking some papers, there was a knock at your classroom door. 

Taking a bite of the chicken salad you had made him a bowl of, Logan flipped a paper round and handed it to you. “What does that say? I swear this kid just writes in scribbles.”

You took the page from him. “This is Rogue’s. Isn’t she your little sister or something? Shouldn’t you be fluent in this by now?”

“She’s not my sister. We just came here together. She was a runaway. Found me when I was a cage fighter and stowed away in the back of my trailer.”

Your eyes practically bugged out of your head before you tried your best to hide your smile. “You were a…cage fighter? You? Logan Howlett, as I live and breathe? You sat opposite me with your feet on my desk? You were a cage fighter?”

Logan rolled his eyes with a smile. “Okay, okay. Alright. I get it.”

You shook your head. “I mean, you’ve got the physique for it, I just…” you laughed. “I just never pictured you as a cage fighter. A cage fighter, really?”

“Are you done?”

You bit back another laugh. “I’m-” It came out. “Okay, yes.” You laughed again. “I’m done. Okay, okay,” you breathed through it. “I’m done.”

Logan just gave you a look and raised his eyebrow. 

You nodded with a wide smile. “I’m done. Finished. Promise.”

You even made a cross above your heart. Logan smiled and turned back to marking the papers as you read Rogue’s. 

“What did you picture me as?” 

You hummed a questioned response. 

“You didn’t picture me as a cage fighter.” You held in a laugh. “Stop it.” You tried. “What did you see me as?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. A lumberjack? Bodyguard? A cowboy? Your tags say ‘Army’ but your personality says ‘Macho Man with a Protective Streak’.”

Logan hid his blush well as he turned his head away, the smile on his face not going unnoticed by you. “Alright.”

You loved seeing Logan smile. It wasn’t often he did it, but when he did…you wanted to take a picture. 

Unbeknownst to you, Logan loved it, too. Maybe he wanted to keep up his reputation for how you saw him, as well as for how others saw him. But one thing he was glad of…most of the time when he did smile…it was with you. 

However, as you both shared a laugh, a knock came from your classroom door where you looked to find one of your cousin’s standing by the door. 

“I…there may have been a tiny accident.”

Pulling your own feet from your desk, you sat up and met your cousin half way across your classroom just as Logan pulled his feet from your desk and turned in his chair. 

“Show me.”

Your cousin held out their hand to you. A deep gash was in the middle. 

“Oohhhh kay.” You looked around you. “Logan, open up my top drawer in my desk. There should be some bandages.”

Logan did as you instructed and threw them to you. You caught them and turned back to your cousin. “How did this happen?”

“We were walking through the clearing. I slipped and tried to grab onto a tree branch.”

“And that caused the cut?” You asked as you wrapped their hand.

“Not exactly. I kinda…missed. And grabbed onto a rock instead.”

Logan stood beside you. “You must have found the sharpest rock in the forest.”

He said what you were thinking. 

“How long will it take to heal?”

“That’ll depend.”

“On what?”

“On if you’re thinking about trying to climb the tree again.”

Your cousin panicked. “B-but we weren’t.”

Logan detected a lie. 

“I have known you, your whole life.” You leaned in a little closer. “You need to stop climbing trees after it’s been raining.”

“Okay, fine.”

You took in a small breath. “It should be healed in a couple of hours. Just…wait until it’s dry before you do any more climbing.”

“Thanks, Y/n,”

As your cousin left, Logan remained fixed on his spot as you walked back to your desk. Pointing towards the door your cousin had just walked out from, Logan turned around to you. 

“That was a pretty deep gash. That’ll take more than a couple of hours to heal.”

You looked at Logan for a split second before looking back to the papers in front of you. “It’s part of their mutation. Small things he can heal from, just not as quickly as you. We don’t all have super-healing, Logan.”

Logan gave you a soft smile, but it was still questioning. He walked over to your desk. “But their mutation gives them the ability to control water. Nowhere on their file does it say ‘heal’.”

Your heartbeat jumped. 

Logan leaned up a little from your desk as you looked at him. 

He’d caught you in a lie. 

“Well, it’s not his primary power. My aunt mustn’t have thought it was important.”

Your heartbeat was normal. 

So was your breathing. 

Logan decided to drop it, but it was constantly on his mind. 

Your heartbeat had jumped when he got closer to your desk and mentioned the mutation. 

Either that was the very first lie you had told him, or your mask was slipping. 

For the next two days, Logan practically watched you like a hawk. It was rare his gaze was somewhere else other than you. 

He did question going to the Professor again, but considering he was adamant you weren’t a mutant, Logan considered it wasn’t worth the time. 

He wanted to know why you had lied to him. Or why it was now he’d only just detected it.

However, it was at least another month before he would come to find out the truth. 

“So why are we being called up?”

Scott turned towards the Professor, his arm across his chest. “Because last I checked, aren’t the fire departments meant to help with this kinda thing?”

“Usually, yes. However, we’ve been called personally. There are too many risks for just the average human being.”

A tornado had ripped through a small town, demolishing almost everything. From the brick buildings to houses to even schools. Some people were still trapped under rubble and others were hurt, if not worse. Except, the hospitals could only take so many patients at a time and the nearest hospital was at least two towns away. 

“You’ll be working alongside the departments already stationed there but the main priority is helping people out safely.”

Twenty minutes later, they were headed for the jet. 

And you caught Logan walking down the hall. “Where are you going?”

“There’s been a tornado-”

“In Oklahoma? I saw it on the news.”

“We’re going to help.”

You turned watching Logan walk further down the hall. “Wait, I’m coming with you.”

“What? Why?”

You threw your books into the nearest classroom, letting them softly slide against the desks and into their places. “I can help.”

Logan stopped and looked around. “They’ve already got too many casualties. We’re going because we’re less likely to get hurt.”

You sighed with a look. “Logan, I’ve seen at least half of the casualties. They’re gonna need more than just the X-Men. I can help.”

“Let her go with you, Logan.” The Professor rolled around the corner. “She knows what she’s doing.”

Logan took the Professor’s word for it. “Come on, before they leave without us.”

Passing your room on the way, you grabbed your jacket and a bag from under your bed. Logan looked at you curiously as you shut your bedroom door. 

“Medical supplies.” 

Logan just nodded and placed his hand at the bottom of your back guiding you down the hallway before you both set off running towards the jet. 

Upon landing, everyone got to work. 

Scott and Logan started helping those who were trapped under fallen buildings whilst Storm helped lift most of the rubble away as well as brush away most of the debris from larger areas. 

Jean began setting up medical areas for people to be treated and seen to, and you helped her. 

Thirty minutes later, you heard shouting. 

It was a kid. 

“Help! Please!”

Turning around, you yelled for Logan and he came running. 

“Hey, it’s okay.”

“It’s my leg. I-I’m stuck. Please.”

“Okay, just stay calm. Logan help me lift it.”

Before Logan could even touch the wooden boards holding the kid down, the last half of the house shook. 

“Okay,” you looked from the house to Logan. “We have to move. Quickly.”

From the count of three, you and Logan lifted the boards from the kid, except, as Logan helped the kid out, the rest of the house began to fall. 

“Watch out!” A could firemen shouted. 

Logan barely had time to react, covering the kid with his body, waiting for the impact of the house. Except it never came. 

Slowly opening his eyes, Logan was met with a semi bright light of blue and when he turned around, he was more than shocked at what he saw. 

Coming from you was a safety barrier. The house had fallen but it had fallen onto whatever blue dome you had created. 

Despite the fact you had stopped the house from falling on yourself, Logan and the kid, there was a sting inside of you. How Logan was looking at you…pure shock and hurt…that stung you to your core. 

“Get the kid out of here.”

Logan slowly jolted back into action, pulling the kid out as you turned around and pushed the house back and up before lifting it to a safe distance away from the rest of the people. 

And Logan just watched you. 

“Thank you, sir.”

Logan looked around for the voice after a moment, realising the kid was still beside him. “No worries, kid. How’s the leg? Think you can stand on your own?”

The kid nodded before looking down and paleing. “It’s bleeding.”

“Whoa, hey, okay. Take it easy.”

Logan helped him sit down on a cinderblock just as you got to his side. “Let me see.”

The kid slowly lifted his leg. “I don’t like blood.”

You knelt down and examined his leg. “It’s okay, buddy. Just close your eyes so you don’t have to look.”

“What are you gonna do?” 

You looked at Logan who was all manners of concern, confused and intrigued. 

Looking from him without answering, you allowed your hands to slowly ghost over the kids legs. Before his eyes, a blue light emitted from your palm and slowly healed the cuts on the kid's leg.  

“Okay, you’re all sorted buddy.”

The kid opened his eyes and looked at his leg. The blood stains were still there, but the cuts weren’t.

“Thank you.”

“Do you know if there are any other kids around here?”

The kid pointed you in the direction of where a couple other houses had been standing only the day before and you and Logan went back to work. 

Over the next couple of hours, Logan’s gaze towards you had gone from shock to confusion to anger. 

You had lied to him. 

Not only that, you had lied to all of them. 

“Did you know?” Jean asked, standing beside Logan as he watched you with a little girl who had been crying. From nothing, you conjured up some daisies and whisked it into a flower crown for her hair. Logan’s heart was warm at the sight. The girl had gone from red and puffy eyed to smiling and hugging you. 

Then he remembered. 

“No. I didn’t.”

“Why wouldn’t she tell us? Why lie?”

“I don’t know.”

The girl almost skipped away from you and towards some of her friends she had spotted. You were still crouched down and as you turned, you spotted Logan and Jean. 

One moment of eye contact with you and Logan started walking away in the opposite direction. 

Jean watched as he walked away and you lowered your head, standing and looking around to see if anyone else needed help. 

A firewoman approached you and asked you for help moving some old pieces of the school building. 

When you returned an hour later, the only person you could find was Storm. 

“Those were some pretty cool things you did earlier. My only question is, why not tell people about it?”

You looked at Storm as you helped her hand out small baskets of food for people. “Easier to keep to myself.”

“You know, the first day the Professor told me about you, he said you were something else. I thought it was just because you were the only human in your family. But clearly he saw something else.”

“I’m sorry, for not telling you all.”

Storm shook her head. “You never had an obligation to. It’s your life, Y/n. You get to decide how much you share with the world.”

You sighed, spotting Logan helping a couple of people out by the broken swings in the park. “I wish others could see it like that.”

Storm nudged your shoulder. “He’ll come around. He’s like a walking lie detector. He’ll be more mad at himself for not figuring it out.”

You gave Storm a thanking smile before going back to handing out supplies. 

By nightfall, most things had been cleared up and the hospitals were less packed with patients thanks to yourself and Jean. 

On the ride back you could practically feel the anger radiating from Logan. He would barely look at you. Jean and Storm seemed to be the only ones not pissed at you for not telling them. 

By the time you landed, Logan was the first off the jet, his feet heavy against the stairs as he made his way back into the school. 

“Is there anything else we should know, or do you have more lies stuffed up your sleeves?”

“Scott.” Jean warned. 

“What? You can’t tell me you’re not pissed that she’s lied to us.”

“Scott, she didn’t have to tell us if she didn’t want to.” Storm told him. 

“Still would have been nice to know.”

As Scott walked away, Jean touched your arm. “I’ll deal with him. He’s just hurt, he wasn't the first to find out.”

“How come you two aren’t mad at me?”

Storm and Jean looked at you with a faint smile on their faces. “The power you displayed today…we know what it’s like to want to hide that.”

“And we also know what it’s like to want to keep a secret. You didn’t have to share that part of your story with us, but you did because you wanted to help someone. No one can be mad at you for that.”

“Thanks, guys.”

Jean and Storm smiled as they hugged you. “Anytime. But this does mean you are making us all flower crowns. I wonder if we can get Logan to wear one?”

The three of you walked side by side back into the school. “He needs a haircut, first.”

The next day, you found yourself in the Professor’s office, the rest of the team already there.

And Logan didn’t seem any calmer. 

Just eerily quiet as he watched you from the window, walking inside and standing in the middle of the room. 

“I understand there is something you may need to share with the class?” 

You nodded. “I guess you saw it on the news?”

The Professor nodded, but he didn’t seem mad. “That, and Scott was the first to come and see me this morning.”

You looked at Scott but he just scoffed. “They have a right to know we’ve got Class 4 mutant-”

“Class 5,” you corrected. 

They all turned and looked at you with shock. Logan just stood, his arms still across his chest. 

But the Professor smiled. 

“It seems we have quite a lot to discuss. Everyone, please excuse myself and Y/n.”

Slowly, albeit reluctantly, they all left one by one. 

Your eyes followed Logan but he didn’t look at you. 

With your eyes still on the door he’d just closed, the Professor rounded his desk. “He’ll come to his senses. They all will. Please, have a seat.”

Logan didn’t see or hear from you or the Professor in over three hours. And by the time dinner rolled around, the only person he did see was the Professor. 

“Where is she?”

“Gone.”

Logan nearly shot out of his seat as he looked from the library window to the Professor. “Gone? Where-”

“Relax, Logan. She’ll be back soon enough. I told her it was best if she went and got a little fresh air. You could use some, too. Your brooding is practically stinking this place out.”

Logan fell back into his chair. “She still lied.”

“And she had good reason, too.”

Logan looked back to the Professor. “She comes from an entire family of mutants, Logan. Her childhood was spent being surrounded by those trying to manipulate powers to be something greater than they already were. If she had shown who she truly was, I fear she wouldn’t have become the person she is today. Her family, for as much as they care for her…half of them would have wanted her to stay and have her powers trained into something for their own gain. The other half would have shipped her off to hide out in a country, alone for the rest of her life. They would have been frightened of her, Logan.”

“But why lie to us?”

The Professor sighed. “Logan, if you had spent your entire life being one thing, how long do you think it would take before you feel comfortable and safe enough to share a whole other side of you to someone?”

Logan was silent for a minute. “She said she’s a Class 5.”

Charles picked up the hidden question behind Logan’s statement. “I’ve read her mind, Logan. She’s not like Jean. She’s in full control. Always has been.”

The Professor waited for a couple of minutes. “I know you care for her, Logan. Try and find a way to forgive her for not telling you sooner.”

He made it to the door before looking back at Logan. “Maybe take a walk. It might clear your head. I hear Ororo planted some Evening Primrose. They should be opening up soon.”

With that, the Professor left. 

And somehow, ten minutes later, Logan found himself taking the Professor’s advice. 

Zipping up his hoodie, Logan placed his hands into his pockets as he walked down the steps towards the gardens. It was still a little warm but there was still that hint of chill in the air that let him know Fall would be closing in soon. 

As time passed, Logan felt his mind working around the idea of you and the things you had told him, or rather hadn’t told him. 

And the Professor was right. 

The primroses had begun to open. 

Logan had never really understood why people would watch flowers or do anything with them other than plant them and pull out the weeds a few months later. But as he was contemplating about flowers and why these off all things the Professor told him to look at, he looked up and spotted you. 

You were sitting on an old swinging bench, watching the water softly ripple under the moonlight. 

Logan watched you for a moment. You were calm. You weren’t writing or scribbling in a classroom, you weren’t buzzing around the kitchen or the hallways. 

You were sat, alone, letting your mind concentrate on nothing but the constant movement of the water and the stars in the sky. 

After a few moments, Logan noticed the soft blue glow by the ground around the water. Within a second, he watched as daisy’s and some other wildflowers started to push up from the ground. All the while, a blue wisp, almost like glitter, circled around them and then died away. 

Then stems of grass began to lift before they stretched into what Logan figured out to be lilypads as they glided down onto the water. 

“Figured you’d kicked down a few trees by now.” 

Logan turned and looked back at you. Of course you knew he was there. 

“Trust me, I thought about it.”

Slowly, Logan started walking towards you. 

More flowers grew by the water's edge. 

“You should open your own flower shop.”

You smiled a little. “Would you believe me if I told you I was allergic?”

“I don’t know. Is it the truth?”

You looked up at him. “You tell me.”

Logan could hear your heartbeat. 

And he could hear your breath. 

Both steady. 

“I’m not hiding anything else from you, Logan,” you assured him. 

Logan just raised his eyebrows and clicked his tongue as he moved to sit beside you. “Hard to tell these days.”

“I know you wanted to know but it was easier to keep it hidden.”

Logan nodded. “The Professor explained it to me. But everything you said in the library…”

“I was living a normal life, Logan. To my family I am human. To everyone else I was the only human in a mutant family. What I said to you that night…I meant it. I know what it’s like to be alone and to feel lost.”

“And now?”

You shrugged a little. “That depends.”

“On what?”

“On you.” Logan looked at you. You turned in your seat and looked back at the water, your fingers picking at your own hands. “And Scott. And the others. The Professor wants me to stay on, but I don’t know if I can-”

“You should stay.”

You looked back at Logan. 

“You should stay,” he repeated. “The kids…they love you. Besides, who else is gonna be able to read Rogue’s handwriting.”

“What about the others?”

Logan gave a slight nod. “They’ll come around. Scott will come around. Jean will see to that.”

“And what about you?”

Logan didn’t know what to say. 

“I care about you, Logan. I don’t know if I could carry on working here knowing you hate me for lying to you. Even worse…not being able to trust me. I am sorry for not telling you the truth, but I hope one day you can see why I did.”

“I think the Professor explained most of it.” Logan told you. “And I get why you didn’t tell us. It still hurts, but I get it.”

Your gaze fell on Logan’s face as he watched the forest come alive under the stars. 

“I care about you, too.” 

Finally, Logan’s gaze held onto yours. 

Part of you was held in suspense for when he would look away. Your heart braced itself for him to turn away. For him to say something your heart didn’t want to hear and for him to leave. 

As Logan looked at you, your heartbeat was like an echo of his own. Faint in the background, drowned out by his own rushing through his ears. 

“Promise me…” Logan tried to find his words as his own hand found yours on the bench. “Promise me you’ll keep talking to me. That you’ll tell me things. That you won’t have any more secrets with me? Good or bad…I want to know them.”

You nodded. “I promise. So long as you promise me something, too.”

Logan gave a slight smile. “Don’t think you’re in the right area to ask for promises jus-”

You sat up and turned your body towards him, your hands enveloping his hand. Logan remained silent the minute he saw your relaxed smile. 

“Promise me you’ll talk to me, too. And that you won’t try and hide your smile from me.”

Your hand grazed Logan’s cheek and he practically smiled into it. 

“I like seeing your smile.” 

Logan smiled. “I like seeing yours, too.”

With his elbow propped up against the back of the bench, his fingers slowly brushed your loose hair from your face to behind your ears and down your neck. Logan turned his head for a moment, his other hand coming to hold yours against him before he pressed a kiss to your palm. 

From there, he simply placed your hand over his heart. 

And you smiled. 

His heart calmed at your touch, and he could hear yours. 

With a soft smile that was very quickly turning into a smirk, Logan leaned forward, holding you steady before he finally kissed you. 

He wouldn’t notice until the next day but the wildflowers that bloomed by the waters edge, just as he kissed you, dug their roots permanently. Even when questioned why they could grow so close to the water without any other explanation than it being a fluke, Logan knew the truth. 

And it anyone was to question their origins and their symbolism: Eternal Love

It might finally provide an explanation. 

Pulling back to catch his breath, he heard you let out a small laugh. 

“What?”

“You seriously need a haircut.”

Logan groaned. “Still?”

“Just a little.”

A few weeks later, Logan found himself being pushed into a chair in his room as you wrapped a towel over his shoulders and pulled out a pair of hairdresser scissors and a comb. 

“You know, you could have just asked to cut my hair. You didn’t have to trick me into it.”

“Logan, I have been asking you for months. Be lucky I didn’t ask Hank to knock you out and drag you here.”

“Do you even know how to cut hair?”

You started the first couple of snips. “One of the first things I learned to do. Besides learning how to cook. People can only take so many bowl cuts and parsnip soup from Great-Aunt Vi.”

Logan smirked. “Sounds delicious.”

“Sure, if you love parsnip water with cabbage.”

You moved around to stand in front of Logan, his legs opening for you to step into them. It wasn’t long before his hands found your hips. 

Your heart jumped a little. 

“Stop it.”

Logan looked at you innocently enough. “I’m not doing anything.”

His hands glided a little higher before you whacked his knuckles with your comb. He tried his best to hold back his smirk. 

“Tease.”

It was your turn to hold back your reaction. “I’m trying to cut your hair. Distractions don’t help.”

“Don’t look distracted to me.”

You smirked a little, continuing to comb through and cut his hair. “Believe me, I’m plenty distracted.”

Logan chuckled and his hands moved back down to your hips before making repetitive strokes up and down your thighs and back to your hips. 

Time passed slowly, albeit calmly. 

“Okay, all done.”

You held a mirror in front of him. “What’d you think?”

Logan nodded before pushing the mirror down and pulling you closer to him before you found yourself sitting in his lap. “It’s nice, but I think I prefer this view.”

You blushed before kissing him, his hand raking through your hair, his breath pulling you closer. 

It wasn’t long before you were straddling his lap, his hands holding you steady by your ass and thighs. 

“Shouldn’t we,” Logan kissed you. “Be getting ready,” He kissed you again. “For dinner?”

“Good thing it starts at seven.”

You giggled a little as Logan smiled before his lips made their way down your jaw line and down your neck. Your own arms wrapped around his neck as you rocked forward on him a little, a groan coming from the back of his throat. 

“That’s in an hour.”

“Gives us plenty of time then.”

You smiled. “To do what?”

A small gasp came from you as Logan stood up with you, your legs wrapping around him. “To get ready.”

With a suggestive eyebrow raise and a small bite of his lip, you let out a small laugh before kissing him again, his chuckle vibrating against your lips as he walked you towards the en-suit bathroom. 

A small wisp of blue turned on the shower, letting the water heat up, all the while Logan set you down on the sink counter, the blue wisp locking the door, and him slowly removing your clothes before his lips left a trail in their wake, your own hands working to remove his clothes. 

By a stroke of luck, neither of you were late to dinner (this time) but there wasn’t much time left for drying your hair. Logan was still towel drying his before you both reached the dining room. 

“I see someone finally got a haircut.” 

Hank was dishing out mashed potatoes onto each plate. 

“It wasn’t that bad.”

“Oh. honey.” Your hand pressed against Logan’s chest before you kissed his lips. “It was.”

“Didn’t hear you complaining afterwards.” Logan mumbled to you through a smirk.

You blushed brightly. Logan’s smirk prominent on his face,  his hand trained down your back and over your ass before coming to pull you in by your hips. 

Soon, everyone else piled into the dining room, you all finding your designated seats. With Logan’s beside yours, his hand remained on your upper thigh for most of the meal. 

However, no one seemed to notice that with each squeeze Logan gave you, a small row of daisies planted themselves outside, just below the windowsill. 

[leapdayowo]

Isa is the one with a nightmare, as a treat :)

Ya know, obviously Siffrin (whose name auto correct keeps changing to suffering, which is pretty fitting lol) went through hell and back with the loops. All the angsty art and fics around that I totally get and love to see, however I like to imagine the toll their whole journey took on everyone…

It’s brought up in the game how the King’s power over Vuagarde had a huge impact on Bonnie with their sister + with Mirabelle having the weight of saving a country on her shoulders, but I can’t recall if anything was brought up with Isa and Odile? (Oh nooOOoOo, how awful I can’t remember! Guess I’ll just have to rewatch a let’s play of the game again! What a shame… /j) So yeah :3 Nightmares for everyone! Though Sif definitely has gotten quite a lot more baggage from their journey (which I do intend to make art of eventually..)

[leilanihours]

🗝️, + 2 + kate martin

# EVERY LOOK, EVERY TOUCH MAKES ME WANNA GIVE YOU MY HEART

pairing: kate martin x reader

word count: 722

warnings: none !

prompt: "i love it when you laugh"

⭑ from lani: i dont actually know if kate wore makeup to the draft but for the sake of this lets say she did! 🤗

celly masterlist !

main masterlist !

YOU PLACE YOUR hands on kate's shoulders as you gently push her to sit down on the cushioned chair before you.

"remind me again why i let you do this?" she jokes, referring to how she gave you permission to do a light makeup look on her for the 2024 wnba draft.

"because you love me and i'm the best makeup artist in the world?" you shrug with a slight pour on your lips.

"oh right," she smiles, "that."

you stand in front of kate as you dig through your makeup bag on the table beside you. she sat patiently, gazing up at you as you work swiftly. her large hands found comfort on your hips as you temporarily towered over her.

kate didn't want anything too heavy, as she wasn't big on makeup. you settled, of course, also agreeing that a subtle makeup look would be a better fit for her.

"what's that?" the blonde asks as you work on her lashes.

by now, you had already applied light layers of skin tint and blush, not too much so as to not hide her gorgeous freckles.

"an eyelash comb, it makes the mascara less clumpy," you explain as you brush through her long lashes.

you were so focused on the task at hand that you failed to notice the way kate had been staring at you with nothing but adoration. you also hadn't noticed that when you braced yourself by placing a hand on kate's jawline, she slowly leaned into your touch.

when you finished touching up her lashes, you took a step back to admire your work, or more realistically, your girlfriend in general.

she sat there like a little puppy looking into your eyes lovingly with a small smile on her face. seeing her expression made you mirror her grin, falling victim to her dreamy blue eyes.

"you're so cute," you giggle as you watch her blush even behind the pink you had brushed on earlier.

"thanks for doing this, baby," kate says looking in the mirror next to her, "i actually look presentable."

"oh please," you scoff, "you're so much more than presentable. even without makeup. it's, like, almost rude how naturally beautiful you are."

"c'mere," she mumbles, pulling you closer to her by grabbing your belt loops.

you lean down and embrace the kiss, smiling as you feel her lips fit perfectly with yours. but it made you remember you had one more step to do.

pulling away with wide eyes you exclaim, "i forgot about your lips!"

"should i be offended?" she jokes, placing a hand on her chest in pretend hurt.

you simply laugh and shake your head before reaching into your purse to retrieve the lip products you use on yourself.

she can't help but smile at the ticklish feeling of your smooth lip liner against her skin.

"don't move, baby," you whisper, focused on not messing up.

she stays silent, not wanting to interrupt. however, she can't help herself when she gets the idea to tease you even further.

once you finish lining her lips and swiping on some lipgloss, she immediately starts attacking your face with light kisses - your cheeks, your temple, your jaw, everywhere.

"kate!" you yelp at the feeling, "you're gonna mess up your lips!"

"well then you can fix them up for me," she mumbles against your skin.

you can't help but laugh as you just let her continue kissing you, the sound consuming kate's senses.

she backs up from you, tilting her head up to smile her biggest smile yet.

"what?" you chuckle.

"i love it when you laugh," she says honestly.

"stop," you blush.

"i love it even more when i'm the one making you laugh," she adds.

"i can't believe i get to be a 'wag' to the best basketball player ever," you sigh in content. as you begin packing up your makeup products.

"if i even get drafted," kate grumbles to herself.

"quit it with that," you demand, "you're the most talented yet stubborn person i know. you have to be more confident in yourself."

"fine," she says, "only so i can help you fulfill your dream of being a 'wag.'"

"my hero," you laugh.

"there it is again," she grins as she stands up from her seat to kiss you again, "the best sound to ever grace this universe."

— leilani signing off ! 📁

[tsubomiiiii]

Erm tehee

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Hi there! If stardew requests are still open i would like to ask you for one. Recently in your writing Shane has been very sad, which is great for angst and o loved reading that but i think we can both agree our boy needs some rest.

I was wondering if you could write some good ol' fluffy fluff with him and the farmer with prompt number 20 ("You look amazing tonight").

If you're busy or closing requests or just don't feel like writing this one that it's totally cool, no pressure. I hope you have a great day

The Dance of the Moonlight Jellies.

A summer spectacle that Shane attended like clockwork. He only ever went because of Jas, staying away from the saloon just for one night. For her and Marnie's sake...as he didn't want his aunt talking his ear off about staring at the aluminum can in his hands more than the ocean.

That was in years past.

This year, however, was different.

Because it's the first time he'd be seeing it with you by his side, and boy..was he looking forward to it.

Both of you arrived together a bit later than the other villagers, but only because there was a lot of farmwork to take care of..and time quickly got away from you.

Fortunately, your spouse remembered and you practically rushed to the beach together, praying that Major Lewis didn't launch the boat yet.

You would have used a warp to get here sooner, but the first time Shane used one of the mini obelisks...the effects of teleportation made him horribly sick, and he vowed to never touch one of those again.

That was understandable, and you refused to leave him behind. So you headed through the dark town square and to the docks.

With luck, you managed to arrive in the nick of time.

Instead of idly standing alone with a beer in-hand, Shane stood with your hand in his own. He still liked keeping the PDA subtle, never wanting to make a huge scene out of your relationship in public--despite the whole town being there at your wedding--but you didn't mind it.

Once everybody got into their places to witness the event, Lewis lit the candle and finally launched the boat out into the open sea.

For a minute, there was nothing...

And then they arrived.

Hues of lavender, blue, and green began to illuminate the dark waters, which Jas excitedly pointed out to Vincent and Leo, the latter being mesmerized by the jellies--as was everybody else who managed to catch a glimpse of the magnificent creatures that came closer to the surface.

You chuckled softly at the wonder in that boy's eyes, thanking Yoba that you were able to rescue him from a life of solitary on that island and introduce him to life here in the valley, before looking back at Shane and realizing...

He wasn't staring at the jellies anymore, but you.

Tilting your head, you smiled a bit, wondering what was going on inside his head right now. "Something on my face?"

"No..it's just..." For a moment, he felt breathless, his head dizzy (not from any beer for once) and his heart fuller than ever.

All he could do was look at you. The bioluminescent glow from below highlighted your best features, the lights reflecting in your eyes like stars.

'Wow..how did a guy like me get so lucky?'

"Just what?"

Coming back to reality, he just grew bashful at your persistence, being grateful you couldn't see the rising blush on his face.

"You look amazing tonight," he said with full confidence, only to find himself holding his breath afterwards.

As though he were expecting some negative reaction from you..

Was that a weird thing to say?

Was he being weird again...?

Your soft chuckles pulled him out of those thoughts, and you leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. "Thanks, so do you..but then again you look amazing everyday."

He snorted, although internally he was dying..in a good way. "Even when I'm out on the farm all sweaty and dirty?"

"Hey, you always compliment me when I look like that."

"..true, but-"

"Woah.."

"What?"

"Look! Your mermaid pendant is sparkling." You pointed out his necklace.

"Huh?" Glancing down, Shane held the shell between his fingers for a few seconds, staring in wonder at the tiny pinprick lights dancing across its surface. "Ah..guess you're right. It's pretty sparkly." He chuckled, before noticing a peculiar jelly lingering in front of you two.

Unlike the rest, it was a seafoam green.

"Babe, look..that's a rare jelly!" He pointed it out, his smile growing as you gasped, holding onto his hand even tighter. "They're really something, huh? Nature's pretty neat."

"Yeah, it's incredible....ah...and there they go." You hummed, watching the horde drifting away from the docks, a bit disappointed it was over so soon. "Bye, jellies!"

Once more, the glow of summer fades away, leaving everyone on the pier in darkness. But you knew they'll be back next year when Lewis sends off the candleboat, hopefully with bigger and brighter jellies.

You looked forward to seeing them again with Shane..and every year after that.

[todorokis-girl]

Lovesick - Dazai x Reader

Caught in the chaos of life, Y/N grapples with unexpected feelings for Dazai Osamu, the enigmatic and troubled detective from the Armed Detective Agency. During a moonlit walk, their candid conversation reveals vulnerabilities and a mutual desire for connection. As they navigate their emotions and the unpredictability of their world, they find solace in each other's presence, discovering that even amidst darkness, there is light and hope to be found.

Requests are OPEN!

masterlist

You sat lost in thought, your gaze lingering across the room. The noise and chatter around you faded into a dull hum as your eyes fixated on him. Dazai Osamu, effortlessly alluring, stood there engaged in a conversation with some friends, his presence commanding the room with an air of nonchalance and mystery.

Your heart did an involuntary flip.

Do I like him?

The thought alone was both annoying and flustering. Dazai was known for his eccentric behavior and teasing nature, and you couldn’t help but feel a mix of admiration and frustration towards him.

As you wrestled with your feelings, he turned and caught your gaze. For a moment, time seemed to stop as the both of you stared into each other’s eyes. His eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint as he noticed the lovesick, yet frustrated look that had washed over your face.

With a confidence that bordered on arrogance, he sent you a small, almost subtle smirk and winked.

Your eyes widened in shock.

'What the hell? Did that bastard just wink at me?'

Your mind raced with thoughts, caught between exasperation and a flutter of excitement. The audacity of his gesture left you flustered, and you could feel the warmth creeping up your cheeks. How could he be so bold, so infuriatingly charming?

Dazai’s attention returned to his conversation, leaving you to process the heart-fluttering encounter. Despite your irritation, you couldn’t deny the magnetic pull he had on you. His enigmatic smile and playful demeanor left you wanting to know more, to understand the enigma that was Dazai Osamu.

As the evening wore on, you found it increasingly difficult to focus on anything but Dazai. His laughter echoed in your ears, each chuckle a tantalizing reminder of him. You tried to distract yourself by joining in on conversations with others, but your eyes kept drifting back to him, betraying your attempts at indifference.

Finally, unable to resist any longer, you excused yourself from your current group and made your way towards the refreshment table, conveniently close to where Dazai stood. You pretended to be interested in the array of snacks, but your mind was wholly occupied by his presence.

Dazai, ever observant, noticed your approach. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, a sly grin forming on his lips. With a graceful ease, he wrapped up his conversation and sauntered over to you, his movements fluid and confident.

"Enjoying the party, Y/N?" he asked, his voice smooth and teasing.

You looked up, meeting his gaze head-on. "It's alright, I guess," you replied, trying to sound nonchalant. "How about you?"

"Oh, I'm having a wonderful time," he said, his tone dripping with irony. "Especially since I've got your attention."

You felt your face heat up again, cursing your body's reaction to his words. "I wasn't... I mean, you're not the center of my universe, you know."

Dazai chuckled, a rich, melodious sound that sent shivers down your spine. "Really? Because it seems like you can't take your eyes off me."

You opened your mouth to retort, but no words came out. He had caught you, and you both knew it. His proximity was intoxicating, his presence overwhelming your senses. The scent of his cologne mixed with the faintest hint of danger that always seemed to surround him.

"You're impossible," you finally managed to say, though your voice lacked the conviction you had hoped for.

Dazai leaned in closer, his face just inches from yours. "And yet, you can't seem to stay away."

Your heart raced, the space between you charged with unspoken tension. You could see the depths of his eyes, the secrets hidden behind his playful facade, you wanted to know more of him, what made him tick. What he was behind what he was trying to hide. In that moment, you realized that your feelings for him were far more complicated than mere annoyance or infatuation.

He reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. "Care to join me for a walk? It's getting a bit stuffy in here."

You hesitated, knowing that accepting his invitation would only draw you deeper into his enigmatic world. But the allure of his presence was too strong to resist.

"Sure," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Dazai's smile widened, genuine and warm. "Excellent. Let's get out of here."

As he led you towards the exit, your thoughts swirled with anticipation and uncertainty. With Dazai, nothing was ever straightforward, but one thing was certain: this was only the beginning of a journey you couldn't turn back from.

The night air was cool and refreshing as you and Dazai stepped outside, the noise of the party fading behind you. The moon cast a gentle glow over the streets, creating an almost magical ambiance. You walked in silence for a few moments, the only sound being the rhythmic tapping of your footsteps against the pavement.

Dazai glanced at you, his eyes reflecting the moonlight. "So, Y/N, what were you thinking about back there?" he asked, breaking the silence. "You seemed pretty deep in thought."

You hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. "Just... life, I guess. It's been a lot lately."

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. "I get that. Sometimes it feels like the weight of the world is pressing down on you."

You looked at him, surprised by the depth of his response. "Yeah, exactly. How do you deal with it?"

Dazai chuckled softly. "By trying not to take things too seriously. Life is full of chaos and unpredictability, so why not embrace it?"

You sighed, a small smile playing on your lips. "Seems hypocritical, you know? You have very intense suicidal tendencies"

He stopped walking and turned to face you, his eyes intense. "True. But sometimes, you just need to find something, or someone, that makes the chaos worth it. I promised I would"

His words hung in the air, heavy with implication. You felt your heart skip a beat, the warmth of his gaze making you feel both vulnerable and exhilarated.

Before you could respond, Dazai reached out and took your hand. His touch was gentle, yet firm, grounding you in the moment.

"I know it sounds contradictory," he said softly, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles. "But even someone like me can find reasons to hold on. Reasons to fight the darkness."

Your breath caught in your throat, the sincerity in his voice piercing through your defenses. "Dazai..."

He smiled, a mixture of sadness and hope in his eyes. "I don't want to burden you with my struggles. But being around you... it makes me feel like maybe, just maybe, there's something more to this chaotic life. Everyone I've ever loved leaves me, and it can be hard to handle"

You squeezed his hand, your heart aching with empathy. "You're not a burden, Dazai. Everyone has their demons, and you don't have to face them alone."

For a moment, he looked taken aback, as if he hadn't expected your words to hold so much weight. "You really mean that?"

"Yes," you said firmly. "I do. And if you ever need someone to talk to, or just to be there, I'm here."

A rare, genuine smile spread across Dazai's face, and he pulled you into a gentle embrace. "Thank you, Y/N. That means more to me than you'll ever know."

You melted into his embrace, feeling the warmth and strength of his presence. In that moment, you realized that despite the darkness that clung to him, Dazai was a beacon of light in your life. And perhaps, you could be the same for him.

As you stood there, wrapped in each other's arms under the moonlit sky, you felt a sense of peace and connection that transcended words. The chaos of the world seemed distant, and for the first time in a long while, you both felt a glimmer of hope for the future.

[quibbs126]

[NEW Cursed Rarepair is here]

Can you make the fankid of..

Dark Cacao x Moonlight?

I finally got off my ass and drew him, so finally, this is Midnight Choco Cookie

I say all that because I have had his backstory figured out for probably over a year at this point, I just never got around to drawing his design

Okay, so basically the story of Midnight Choco’s origin is that Dark Cacao Cookie had wished for a child (MC is supposed to be older than Dark Choco, so Cacao doesn’t have a kid yet at this point). Moonlight heard his wish, and felt moved by his sincerity, so she decided to grant that wish and then created and sent Midnight Choco down to him from the stars

Moonlight and Dark Cacao aren’t together in this universe, it’s just that due to making Midnight with her magic, he’s also got some of her dough in there too. She’s basically more like a magic donor

Midnight Choco here is a warrior in the World of Dreams, and he spends his days battling nightmares, whether they come to harm train passengers or the individual Cookies having those dreams. And in the latter case, he usually tries to talk with and help those Cookies overcome those fears. He’s basically like Princess Luna in Friendship is Magic

He’s got some sort of helmet and also moniker for his nightmare fighting talents, but I haven’t really figured out what those are yet, so just know he has them. He’s incredibly powerful and a skilled fighter, but he’s also a very kind and sweet soul, just wanting to help those with the power he wields

However, not all is well with Midnight Choco. As far as he’s aware, he’s merely a construction of the Dream World to protect itself, like many others that inhabit and maintain it. He never leaves the Dream World. Not only that, but he has no real memory of having any sort of family. He feels some form of connection with the Slumbering Moon, but has never quite traveled to meet her

The truth of Midnight Choco is that he has in fact, been in a coma for the past 25-30 years of his life, slumbering within the walls of the Black Citadel

He grew up with his father, being raised in the Black Citadel and learning the ways of the sword from him. His extraordinary origins and seeming connection with the stars also led to him having quite an amount of stories surrounding him, being “the prince born from the stars, gifted to the king from the heavens itself”, among other things

When he was a teenager, Dark Choco was baked, and he got along pretty well with his little brother, for what time they had together

But then a couple years later, one night, Midnight Choco went to sleep, but never woke up. That following day it was assumed he had simply overslept, but as the day, and inevitably following days went on, it became increasingly concerning. He was still alive, and seemingly fine, but he wouldn’t wake up. Dark Cacao tried methods both physical and magical, but nothing could be done. The circumstances were made even more confusing by the fact that no one knew what caused it, because there was no trace of any poison or curses in his body, or anything strange that had happened recently, Midnight simply went to sleep and didn’t wake up

He has stayed this way ever since, and Dark Cacao has him kept in a room under constant watch, should someone attack him or if he potentially wakes up. He visits him often

What actually happened to Midnight Choco is that he accidentally awakened his power to go into the World of Dreams, and in the process of doing so, since he had done it incorrectly, gave himself amnesia, basically starting his life over in the Dream World and becoming the fighter of nightmares he is today, and subsequently believing he comes from the World of Dreams

He can in fact, break this spell and wake back up in the real world, but he doesn’t know he has this ability, nor does he believe he comes from the real world, so he wouldn’t go looking for a way to access this power. Though perhaps one day, he’ll learn the truth and wake up

He’s met both his father and his brother within their dreams and nightmares, but neither parties really recognize each other, due to dream weirdness and Midnight’s knight attire covering his face. He is semi aware of what’s been going on in the Dark Cacao Kingdom, like Dark Choco’s banishment, Caramel Arrow, Affogato and the like, but it’s basically been pieced together from the secondhand dream accounts, and due to his amnesia he doesn’t feel much personal connection to these events for himself, he just knows some of what’s going on in the real world

And I think that’s about it on Midnight Choco’s character. Wow I really did have a lot to say. Well, on to design things

So I got the name Midnight Choco from an ice cream flavor that I think I’ve seen around. It’s mostly because it’s chocolate and has night connections, but it works

Midnight chocolate ice cream:

So I admit, he doesn’t look as great as I have been hoping he would, but he has a design now, so I should just be happy with that

I admit, I didn’t really know what I was doing with his armor, I was just kind of trying to make it look good. The feet may not be great though. ToA Dark Choco ended up being a good reference for me

I originally wasn’t going to have gold, but all the saturated dark blues were getting too much, so it breaks up the colors

His sword is supposed to be like a clock hand. I originally drew it for Dusk Choco, but I thought it might look cooler on Midnight, since he’s the one descended from a Legendary and all. But it was a matter of copy/paste, so I don’t know how good it looks on him. But drawing a weapon was the main reason I put off drawing him, so it’s fine I suppose

I really wanted to add some gold gradient to the pants, but it just never looked right, so they have to stay just plain. Though I did change them and subsequently his hair to be a dark purple, so it looks a bit better

I honestly don’t really know what to say in this section. He may not be my best, but he at least has a design, and it isn’t the worst thing ever, so it’s fine

And yeah, that’s Midnight Choco. I think I’m too attached to him honestly, I want fanfiction of him. But yeah, I hope you enjoy him yourselves

[stevesbipanic]

@steddieangstyaugust Day 7: Moonlight

Eddie looked beautiful in the moonlight.

Steve's always thought this, ever since that night after Starcourt and they met outside his trailer for a little something to stop the nightmares for awhile. Weed helped, sleeping side by side helped better a few months later. Eddie never asked, so Steve never told.

Maybe he should have, screw the NDAs and the danger of looking insane. Maybe if Steve had told his boyfriend about the monsters both human and creature that crept through Hawkins once a year then he wouldn't be here.

They'd fought about it that morning, when Steve sided with Lucas and went to the game. Fought about secrets and bonds and trust. Fought about the drug dealing and the kids. It all feels silly now.

Steve had never seen Eddie so scared as he did in the boat house, how relieved he looked when he saw that the body he pressed against the wall was Steve. How he trembled as Steve held him close and told him he believed him.

He wanted to hide Eddie away at his house, where no one would look, where no one would find him, man or monster. Eddie didn't want Steve going into battle alone, didn't want the kids fighting in his place. He's never poured so much love and devotion into a kiss than the one they shared before separating for the final battle.

Eddie looked beautiful in the moonlight.

"Steve?"

His skin which never tanned even in the middle of summer seemed to glow in the moonbeams.

"Steve."

His eyes always shone, like stars in the sky even though they were as dark as night.

"Steve, please."

Eddie always called him sunshine, but he was Steve's moonlight, a perfect pair, soulmates.

"Steve...we need to go."

Eddie looked beautiful in the moonlight.

Couldn't Robin see how beautiful he looked.

"Steve, you need to let him go."

How was Steve meant to let go of his moonlight, how could the sun shine without his starry night.

"Steve, he's gone, we can't lose you too."

Eventually, he let Robin drag him away, back into the trailer and through the gate. The moon was shining full and bright, but it would never feel beautiful ever again.

[seneon]

月光 ݁ ˖ MOONLIGHT ── CHAPTER ONE. THE CRUEL AND LONELY AFTERMATH OF A GREAT WAR BETWEEN NATIONS.

CONTENTS. warnings of dead bodies, slight gore (slicing through the skin), suicide of an enemy party. wc of a thousand.

moonlight series masterlist ₊ 𓂃 chapter two

𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊, night-time, right after the evening where the golden hour turns into dusk. the sun has set completely, allowing the moon to rise and take up on its duty for the rest of the night. it was only a few hours ago that humanity officially ended a war between nations. chaos ceased right then with only one victor left standing.

Y/N, nobody but a mere girl who was turned and twisted to be in the war not by choice, but by the lack of freewill. nobody but a daughter of a swordsmith. nobody but a daughter of a lady who sells potatoes and sometimes mooncakes during mid-autumn festival by the streets to make a living. you are nobody... but a doll of the battlefield, simply selected by some soldiers to be made into a weapon on the rough battlefield.

woe to you who survived through the hellish nightmare of watching your comrades get their chest pierced by spears. woe to you who survived the cuts all across your limbs by the blades of the other innocent souls, also forced to be on the battlefield. woe to you who was the only living being standing amongst puddles and mountains of corpses. and woe to you, for you had to lay a finger on your last standing enemy who eventually unalived himself for the sake of surrendering.

you still remembered the scene of the man standing in front of you, crying his eyes out and begging you to kill him. as the last person standing, shouldn't there already be some sort of peace? you didn't know why but before you could even say anything but to touch his shoulders, he used his blade and run it across the skin of his throat, allowing the substance you despised so much to swiftly flow out.

now venturing on your own after leaving thousands of corpses behind, you walked and walked and walked through forests, meadows, riverbanks, and eventually your journey halted as you stepped forth into a huge mountain.

you unsheathed your sword, pointing it at the direction where you sensed a presence lurking around. "who are you?!" you exclaimed at the person, a man with half a yellow and black hair. he possessed such blank golden honey eyes, almost as if you could drown in the dew, consumed by the sweetest of emptiness.

something about him doesn't feel right though. he is man, but he feels something more than man. something closer to a divine being that harbours magical abilities. why would a man be in the middle of a huge mountain anyways? why is the man dressed in such fine clothing and is alone in a mountain? is he a nobleman to be clothed such a way? what intrigues you the most is the two line that runs from his eyes down to his cheeks.

the grip on your sword tightens, ready to offense and defense for anything that might happen.

"what may a mighty warrior such as you be doing here?" he finally spoke, furrowing his eyebrows. the man spoke with authority, as if you aren't supposed to even step foot in this mountain. his honey eyes scanned all over your body, taking notes that you obtained cuts, stabs, and hurts all around. "you are injured. physically and mentally. perhaps you seek solace in this mountain. that is why you are here."

this man had read you like a book. the grip on your hilt tightened even more, before it loosens and you drop your arm. your eyes slowly dropping to the ground too. "you're not human. what are you?"

"the god of this mountain. rayne ames. i know the very inner being of any living creature that sets foot in my mountain," the mountain god said as he lifted his hands up and a group of fallen petals arise and danced along the wind. rayne spun his hands in a circular motion, the wind following to dance around you. then, the flowers slowly and beautifully flow down all around you. "everything of this mountain belongs to me."

as he uttered those words, a petal fell right at the palm of your hands. you gently held your hand out. even though it has fallen from its origins, it remains as beautiful and fresh as it first blossomed, unscathed even. the petal then jumped right out of your palm and flew away along the wind.

"if everything in this mountain belongs to you, may i... stay here and be one of yours..?"

rayne ames' eyes widened just in the slightest way, before it shuts, locking away the sweet honey dew. "i refuse. descend the mountain and return to your people."

"but i have no people!" you shouted. "i thought you knew that, stupid god..." that came out as a whisper, merely decipherable to one.

as much as rayne feels so much sympathy for the hurt, he cannot allow a human to live in the mountains with him. it is simply impossible. but your words strike him in a way that he couldn't quite understand. the words ‘i have no people’ reminded him so much of himself. just like how he is a mountain god and always alone.

"what is your name?" rayne asks, letting out a sigh.

"y/n."

"y/n, you may stay," he turns around and walks away. "but if you spill poison in the soil and roots of this mountain, i will cast you out." relief embraced you as worry left you when his words filled your ears. "you are now mine, y/n."

you are his, rayne ames the god of this mountain. the moment you spoke to him, the moon has already sent the stars to form a fate between the two of you. moonlight belonged to a mountain god who accepted a human girl and a mighty warrior who seek solace in the haven of a divine being.

NOTES. omg what an exciting fic!!! jokes anyways happy valentine's day! this series will be updated every day 🖤

TAGS ݁ ˖ @kyoghurts @anqelically @caelivir @bbladie @ansbobcar @rjasmin2021 @lunareclipses-moments

© SENEON￤MOONLIGHT 2024. do not alter or repost.

[damn-stark]

Chapter 8 Chateau

Chapter 8 of Moonlight

A/N- You and young Rhaenyra would’ve been the bestest of friends.

Warning- Swearing, angst, NFSW, quickie before mc leaves, FLUFF, talks of blood, death, miscarriage, pregnancy, LONG CHAPTER.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode- 1x08-1x10

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

“…and he said to me, well you’re sort of beautiful. So I look at him confused.” You tell Rhaena and Baela about a memory from your years in Winterfell. “I'm like, I'm either one or the other, tell me if I should be offended or touched.”

Rhaena giggles and leans in closer to you. “What did he say?”

You grab onto the edge of the dinner table and lean in between the both of them to whisper. “He went on to throw up on himself,” you grumble and Baela and Rhaena groan in disgust.

“But! The next day he said the same thing to another girl, so,” you snicker, “my friends and I grabbed him after he blacked out and laid him in front of Astraea. When he woke up he shit his pants in front of all the ladies he had been hitting on.”

The three of you burst out laughing at your story, causing Jacaerys to shove himself between Baela and you. “What’s so funny?” He probes.

You part your lips to answer, but Baela cuts him off. “Lady business.”

You peer over at him and snicker.

“Well,” he counters nonchalantly and smirks. “I suppose I won’t share what I just told Lucerys.”

Your curiosity piques and without an ounce of hesitation, you look back at him, noticing him looking all smug.

However, before he can even try and share his part, the hall doors open and guards carrying your grandfather in a chair walk in, silencing the chatter that fills the room, and making everyone, including you, stand from their seats in respect of the King's arrival.

“Tell us later,” you whisper to your brother.

He leans over and counters. “As long as you tell me what you shared.”

You meet his gaze from the corner of your eyes and nod in agreement. You then return your focus to the King getting carried to his spot in the middle of the table, and only return to your spot beside Aemond once the King is put down.

“How good it is,” your grandfather interjects in his raspy voice. “To see you all tonight…together.” He finishes strong and takes a moment to examine everyone gathered around the table.

“Prayer before we begin?” Alicent cuts in.

Your grandfather turns his head to look at his wife and nods. “Yes,” he whispers.

You sigh and clasp your hands together over the table, but you don’t close your eyes like Alicent and her family do.

Even if you do follow the Old Gods, you don’t much pray to them over dinner, nor do you make it your entire personality like Alicent with her New Gods, but out of respect you do stay quiet and listen to her.

“May the Mother smile down on the gathering with love. May the Smith mend the bonds that have been broken for too long.”

You slowly drop your head and roll your eyes at her comment because after all, who’s fault is this strain exactly? Your mother was nothing but patient during the years she lived here with you and your siblings; the boys only messed around with one another because they were just children messing around. The only reason you don’t like Aegon is because he’s a creep with the ladies, and you, but the hostility? The name calling? That was all Alicent.

So can she please stop acting?!

“…And to Vaemond Velaryon, May the gods give him rest.”

Okay, now that time has passed you have to admit even if you don’t want to…what Daemon did to him was…well deserved. You won't praise the man to his face, but it was impressive. After the disgust and horror passed of course.

“This is an occasion for celebration, it seems,” your grandfather interjects once the prayer is done, pulling your gaze back over the table—“My grandsons, Jace and Luke will marry their cousins, Baela and Rhaena.”

You smile at the newly betrothed and reach over for your goblet.

“Further strengthening the bond between our houses. A toast to the young Princes…and their betrothed.”

A grin spreads on your lips and you don’t fret to raise your cup to all of them.

“Hear, hear!” Daemon exclaims.

As you take a sip from your wine you reach over and interlace your fingers with Aemond’s as you remember your own wedding. He proceeds to immediately glance over at you, finding you a hundred times more interesting than the people he’s forced to break bread with and puts his goblet down to lean over and press a kiss on the side of your head, making you smile and tighten your hold around his.

“Let us toast as well to Prince Lucerys,” the King adds. “The future Lord of the Tides.”

You raise your cup again and this time you exclaim. “Hear, hear!”

Lucerys gaze finds you and a thankful smile shows on his lips before he drifts his gaze to Rhaena.

“You’ll be great,” you hear her compliment him, making you smile softly with joy because you're happy she's showing him a gentle kindness. He deserves someone kind like her.

“It both gladdens my heart,” your grandfather keeps speaking, but this time he stands on his feet so everyone can look at him. “And fills me with sorrow to see these faces around the table. The faces most dear to me in all the world…yet grown so distant from each other…in the years past.”

You swallow thickly and begin to caress the back of Aemond’s hand with your thumb.

At the feeling of the soft pad of your thumb caressing his skin, his eyes fall on you and linger while you watch your grandfather with hesitation as he begins to take his mask off.

You have seen him without it on a few times, but seeing the muscles of his cheek stick out still brings you goosebumps—Not his eye socket though, Aemond and him share that similarity, and you’ve helped Aemond clean his fleshy eye socket before, but the flesh on your grandfather's cheek is not the same.

“My old face…is no longer a handsome one…if it indeed ever was. But tonight,” he mutters. “I wish you to see me…as I am. Not just a King…but your father. Your brother. Your husband…and your grandsire. Who may not, it seems…walk for much longer among you.”

You let out a deep breath and avert your gaze to avoid having them cloud with tears. Aemond notices and pulls your hand to his lap so he can hold it with both of his hands.

“Let us no longer hold ill feelings in our hearts,” he goes on and slams his cane against the floor. “The crown cannot stand strong if the House of the Dragon remains divided. But set aside your grievances, if not for the sake of the crown…then for the sake of this old man, who loves you all so dearly.” He lets out a heavy breath and sits back down, letting your mother abruptly stand up with her goblet in the air.

“I wish to raise my cup to Her Grace, the Queen,” your mother interjects, catching you off guard. “I love my father, but I must admit that no one has stood…more loyally by his side than his good wife. She has tended to him with…unfailing devotion, love, and honor. And for that, she has my gratitude…and my apology.”

You grab your goblet again and take a small drink.

“I also would like to add,” your mother says a bit softer this time, and with a smile, she directs at you. “How thankful I am to my daughter and Prince Aemond, you have made me a grandmother…”

You smile brightly and share your glee with Aemond.

“…I am thankful for that every day. To Aerion, may he continue to grow and be happy.”

“Hear, hear,” Alicent says quietly, whilst Aemond, you, and everyone around the table take a drink.

“I will also like to add,” Alicent continues to say. “That your graciousness moves me deeply, Princess. We are both mothers…and we love our children. We have more in common than we sometimes allow.” She goes to pause so she can stand up and raise her goblet. “I raise my cup to you…and to your house. You will make a fine Queen.”

You bring your cup to your lips and take the last sip of wine before you stand up as well, causing one of your hands to slip off Aemond’s. “I would like to toast to my mother and family. Six years was far too long and I'm glad to see you all again, I missed you all—And to my brothers.” You smile, whilst a servant refills your goblet. “And Rhaena and Baela, may you share a loving and fruitful marriage.” You sit back down and take a drink at the same time your family does too.

Silence falls after that, letting you reach over to grab some fruit from the trays. When you sit back down and plop a grape in your mouth, suddenly Jacaerys slams his hands on the table and gets up, pulling the attention of everyone to him, and bringing a deafening silence to the table.

You raise your eyebrow and squint your gaze in confusion, but Jacaerys just clears his throat and only provides you with more confusion. However, that confusion quickly washes away as Aemond stands up and stares your brother down.

“Aemond,” you whisper and take his hand.

Said man keeps his glare on Jacaerys, adding tension to the table. You follow his line of gaze and watch your brother playfully hit Aegon's arm before raising his cup and meeting your husband's gaze.

“To Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond…”

You swallow thickly and look up at Aemond again to plead. “<Aemond, my love, please.>”

Aemond blinks and meets your gaze briefly. You think he'll overreact, so you prepare yourself to try and calm him down, but he seems to find a solution to his conflict in your pleading gaze and sighs before he slowly sits back down to just listen.

“We have not seen each other in years, but I have fond memories of our shared youth. And as men, I hope we may yet be friends and allies. To you and your family's good health, dear uncles.” Jacaerys makes a friendly toast and raises his cup, followed by Baela.

The awkward tension doesn't leave but you slowly drink to your brother's words while you wrap your hand around Aemond’s arm.

“To you as well,” Aegon adds awkwardly.

Now you want this to come to an end before things turn bad. Aemond is already more upset than he initially was. And you can’t just see it in his stiff body, and pursed lips, but he gives his emotions away by pulling his arm from your grasp, letting you know he’s upset that you were trying to stop him from overreacting.

You howbeit don’t take offense to his petty act, you find it funny and immediately put your hand over his again. Aemond slowly drags his eye to the side in annoyance, and you slowly do the same but shoot him a playful smirk when you meet his gaze.

Aemond sighs and looks away as he takes his hand away again, but you pull his hand down and rub his hand against your thigh before you lean close to his ear to whisper cockily. “You can be upset all you want, it makes for a more entertaining night.”

The corner of Aemond’s lips twitch to a smile, but he doesn’t let it show in front of the others.

“Just a little longer, okay?” You assure him and then press a kiss on his cheek before you look to your other side as Helaena gets up too.

“I would like to toast to Baela and Rhaena,” Helaena says. “They’ll be married soon. It isn’t so bad. Mostly he just ignores you…”

Aemond grips onto your thigh before you both share awkward glances due to his sister's speech.

“…except sometimes when he’s drunk.”

Scattered laughs spread around the table, but you just blink and glare over at Aegon.

“Let us have some music,” your grandfather brings an end to the toast, letting you turn to face Aemond.

“So I thought,” you tell him, gaining his full attention. “If my family doesn’t end up staying long, after Aerion and I come back from Dragonstone, we go to the vacation house. We can present Aerion to the countryside, just be alone and have calm nights, hm?” You share your idea.

Nevertheless, Aemond’s attention drifts behind you rather quickly, you follow his line of gaze and notice Jacaerys and Helaena starting to dance.

“Aw.” You grin. “How adorable.”

Aemond hums dryly, letting you know he didn't like it one bit, so you block his line of gaze and distract him. “So what do you say? After I come back, do you want to take a nice trip?”

Aemond sighs. “All right,” he agrees as he holds your gaze.

You beam at him and steal a kiss from his lips before you face the table again. Yet just before you can grab any food, a shadow gets cast over you, and Aemond’s grip on your thigh tightens.

“Sister,” you recognize Lucerys say, making you look over at him standing beside your chair with his hand out. “Would you like to dance?” He asks and slides his gaze to Aemond at your other side to shoot him a small smirk. “If that’s okay of course.”

Even though he is playing some stupid game to annoy Aemond, you gladly take your brother's hand and don’t even ask Aemond for permission because Lucerys is your little brother. You don’t need permission to dance with him. However, as you do follow Lucerys out to the floor you do feel Aemond’s gaze on you. When you come to a brief stop and grab your brother's hands, you look back and see exactly that, Aemond watching Lucerys and you carefully, as if your brother was going to suddenly just steal you or something.

Thus just to reassure Aemond of his ridiculous concern you offer him a soft smile before you begin to follow Lucerys’s lead.

“You’ve come a long way from dancing on my feet,” you tell Lucerys as you pull apart and continue to dance. “I’m impressed.”

“There’s not much to do at Dragonstone,” he comments whilst you both hook your arms around each other to spin slowly to the beat. “Besides, mother made us take lessons.”

You giggle. “Well, you’ll make your future wife very happy. It’s always impressive when a man is a willing dance partner.”

“Is it?” Lucerys asks curiously and steals a glance at Rhaena.

You nod. “It is. It’s a way to a woman’s heart. For some anyway.”

He laughs and meets your gaze with a serious look in his eyes. “What’s the other?”

You grin in awe and respond honestly. “Attention, so don't make her feel alone. Listening. Affection and humor.”

Lucerys hums softly before you link arms again and begin spinning slowly once more.

“Dragonstone wasn’t the same without you,” he says again. “We missed you.”

You hold his gaze and offer him a sweeter smile. “I missed you. I’m happy you haven’t changed, don’t let anyone change you.”

You proceed to grab each other's hands and dance around Helaena and Jacaerys before you turn back to back, lift your arms as if forming wings, and then pull away to turn to face each other again.

Before you can finish your dance though, you both come to a slow stop as you notice your grandfather getting carried. When he's being taken away, all you hear him do is groan in pain and you can't help but feel pity that he can’t be the man he once was.

At least he got to witness a part of this family dinner. As tense as it has been, it must've been nice after only seeing the same four walls, and laying in bed all day.

Nevertheless, after he is taken out of the room, a higher tension fills the room at the same time a roasted pig is brought in. Thus you don’t continue to dance in a tense-filled room, instead, you point to the table.

“Let’s go eat some dinner, hm?” You suggest.

Lucerys nods before laughing as he walks you to your chair. “You sound like mother.”

You flash him a simple happy smile before you take your seat beside Aemond and watch your brother return to his seat across the table. And now that you are seated, Aemond fixes his chair to the way it was before.

“I’m still here,” you tease him and take his hand once again. “But if you were so worried you should’ve danced with me.”

Aemond hums, making you snicker before you change the subject. “I have something I want to give you later. It…took me a long while to perfect, but I think you’ll like it.”

Aemond blinks in surprise before he turns his head to face you with confusion and curiosity. “What is it?” He asks.

You shrug softly and bat your lashes. “You just have to wait and see. Or I’ll tell you now if you dance with me?” You tease him with a smirk. “Hm?”

Aemond looks at the dance floor that Jacaerys and Helaena still occupy before meeting your gaze and letting out a deep sigh. “Fine.”

You blink in surprise and pull back. “Really?” You ask him now. “You’ll dance with me?”

Aemond nods. “I will.”

You beam at him with awe and excitement, but…just as you stand up, and before you can pull him up, his gaze drifts away for a second, only a few moments, but it’s long enough for him to catch something that pisses him off so much that he rips his arm from your grasp and slams his hand on the table, cutting off all noise that traveled within.

“Final tribute,” he interjects. “To the health of my nephews.”

Your smile fades completely and instead, you begin to nervously bite the inside of your cheek.

“Jace,” Aemond names. “Luke, and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise…” he trails off and takes a long pause while he stares Lucerys down again.

“Aemond,” you warn him without an ounce of softness in your tone this time.

But of course, he ignores you. “Hm,” he hums. “Strong.”

You clench your jaw and fill with anger; not because he dared to say that to them, there’s no need fueling those comments. You're mad because he ruined this supper. Couldn’t he just hold it in and silently just glare and hate? That’s what you’re doing with Daemon.

“Aemond,” his mother attempts to stop him too.

“Come,” Aemond continues and ignores Alicent as well. “Let us drain our cups to these three…strong boys.”

“I dare you to say that again,” Jacaerys snaps at him angrily.

“Why?” Aemond counters and faces him with his cup raised. “‘Twas only a compliment.”

He breaks away from his spot and passes you to stride to Jacaerys. “Do you not think yourself strong?”

You know Jacaerys has a short temper, you know Aemond doesn’t hold back, so you slowly follow after him and try to plead again. “Aemond, please stop.”

Yet now rather than ending up being hit after trying to stop a fight, Jacaerys swings his fist across Aemond’s face.

Your eyes widen in shock, and you reach your hands out to help your husband, but nevertheless, the punch doesn’t seem to affect Aemond, he doesn’t even drop his wine or sway. So you have to admit that it's impressive, it really impresses you, but now isn't the time, besides as Jacaerys and Aemond confront each other, from the corner of your eye you catch Aegon slamming Lucerys face into the table.

Now rather than staying put and trying to plead, as if triggered by your brother's pain and the anger Aemond made you feel, you charge at Aegon without hesitation and quickly slam your hand on the back of his head and clutch a chunk of hair. You then grab his shoulder and yank him back harshly. When Aegon finds his footing he looks at you bewildered, but that expression is quickly wiped away as you proceed to swing your right fist across his face harshly, causing him to stumble back.

“Try that again,” you snap at Aegon.

Guards head over to you to try and stop you, but before they can try and touch you, a threatening “don’t,” is snapped at them.

You quickly dart your gaze to the side and see Daemon stop by you, challenging the guards with his glare alone.

Of course, the guards don’t dare and move toward you now, nor do they hold Aegon back—Not like he made any attempt to hit you back, he just holds his cheek in complete surprise. When he catches your gaze he pulls his hand away and you notice a small bleeding cut under his eye that you had made.

You should feel bad, but you don’t, you actually feel proud that you managed to hurt him. Besides Aegon doesn’t seem at all affected, he notices the blood and begins to chuckle before he walks away.

You scoff and roll your eyes, catching the guards failing to hold Jacaerys back now.

“…Though it seems my nephews aren’t so proud of there’s!” You hear Aemond exclaim, and when you look over you see him stride to Jacaerys, so you quickly turn around to face the scene, but before you can even think of getting in between them, your mother's hand falls on your wrist, stopping you.

“Wait! Wait!” Daemon interjects and nonchalantly strides in between both young men, making the both of them stop in their attempts to continue fighting. He then proceeds to face Jacaerys and walks him back without the need to say anything.

“Go to your quarters,” your mother orders your brothers and cousins behind you. “All of you. Now.”

You glance over your shoulder and watch them all leave. When they’re gone you focus back on Aemond and see him challenge Daemon’s glare in silence.

You tighten your hold around your mother's and watch them both carefully in anticipation, readying yourself in case either of them snap.

However, Aemond then hums and walks away, bringing the entire supper to a dramatic end.

“If you still wish to accompany us to Dragonstone, my Sweet,” your mother interjects. “Pack what you need, we’re leaving tonight.”

You watch Aemond leave out the hall before you look at your mother and nod in comprehension. “I will. I’ll see you in a bit.”

She nods in comprehension and lets you let her go so you can leave the hall after Aemond. Yet when you see him walking toward your chambers you make no attempt to pick up your pace to catch up to him, you keep your own pace behind him, and try to calm yourself down before walking into your shared quarters.

Nevertheless, you ultimately fail when you are in the privacy of your chambers. You don’t speak to another right away. You let a tension fill the room since Vanessa walks in only a few minutes later.

“Pack for two week's worth,” you let her know as you walk to your closet. “We won’t stay long. After that please put Wolf in his crate, we'll take him too, and then take Aerion, we’ll ride with my mother and dare I say it…my stepfather.” You sigh deeply.

“Right away, Princess,” Vanessa says and walks up behind you to take the gowns you were picking out from your hands. “Should I pack riding outfits?”

“Hm.” You think for a second and briefly glance at her. “Yes, just two.”

Vanessa nods, but she then stops what she’s doing and meets your gaze. “I can do it. I know you well, I won’t be long.”

You share a soft and relieved smile before you let her do her job. Yet now you return to the tension, but! Of course, Aemond doesn't look bothered by any of it!

You can be upset at one another and he always looks nonchalant, and it irks you! You want him to be mad at you, you want him to react, not just sit there and brood in front of the fire.

“Whatever it is you want to say,” Aemond suddenly makes you jump. “Say it. You’ll bleed if you bite your tongue any harder.”

You clasp your hands together and slowly begin to fiddle with your hands as you begin pacing with your mouth shut. Vanessa is still here and you don’t want to have an audience.

“Unless you want to leave upset,” he adds and keeps looking at the fire.

When you don’t respond, he presses as he finally peers back at you. “Hm?”

You stop pacing behind him and let out a frustrated breath, but don’t start just yet, you wait. It's not until Vanessa is out and no longer in the hall that you start and give him what he wants. “Why did you do it?” You mutter out in frustration.

Aemond remains as he is and gives you what you want. “I didn’t do anything, I gave a toast, your brother—”

“No,” you cut him off and storm around him to stand in front of him so he can see your anger. “No, don't bullshit me, Aemond. Seven hells, you antagonized them.”

Aemond finally meets your gaze, and you deepen your scowl.

“He hit me first,” he spats but in a very collected manner. “Or are you choosing not to see that?”

You shake your head. “I’m not siding with either of you. It was stupid that he hit you, and it was stupid of you to provoke him.”

Aemond blinks in surprise and finally chooses to slowly stand to his given his height as if trying to intimidate you, but you aren’t at all affected.

“I try to be understanding, I always have,” you continue to argue and step back as he steps forward. “I never try to take sides or try to tell you how to feel, but when you provoke them I can’t help but get mad at you. I told you to wait it out, just for dinner, but…” you trail off and shake your head. “You can’t even do that.”

“He hit me first, what did you want me to do?” He argues and takes a step towards you again, this time you stay put, this time you’re the nonchalant one, making him finally give you a reaction that you want because your calm demeanor pisses him off; you can tell by the way he clenches his jaw, flares his nose, and curls his thin lips.

“You hit Aegon, do you hear me remarking on that?” He spats.

You scoff. “I don’t give a shit about Aegon. Your brother is a bad man, he deserved it.”

“Did I?” He cuts in bluntly.

“No,” you quickly assure him. “No. But I wanted you to just listen. To me. I told you to sit through it. I didn’t say get over it, but you started it,” you stop again to catch your breath before you turn away to avoid shedding angry tears. “If you have so much hatred for my brothers then,” you pause and huff, shoving away all your anger with that huff of air and leaving yourself vulnerable. “…how can you honestly love me?”

Aemond hears the quiver in your voice and sighs, losing all his will to argue with anger, and growing weak and gentle at the mere shift in your emotions.

“You aren’t the same as them,” he says softly and grabs your shoulders.

You want to say what he’s thinking; a bastard, but you can’t, so you bite your tongue and watch the flames as if you’ll find your solace amongst them.

“You never have been,” Aemond continues. “You’ve never been cruel to me, not when we were kids. You never laughed at me because of what I lacked. Even when I lost my eye and people looked at me with disgust, you never scrunched your nose. When we got older and I was distant you still picked me.”

…well…

“That’s why I love you,” he says and turns you around to lift your head with his knuckle so you can meet his gaze and show you that he's being honest and vulnerable with you. “Forgive me for upsetting you. I won’t apologize for what I did, I would be lying if I did.”

You scoff and roll your eyes.

“But,” he adds and cups your face to keep you looking at him. “I am sorry for upsetting you.”

You hold his gaze and then can’t help but glance at his lips after those words leave his mouth, feeling a spark of desire coil inside you.

“Say you forgive me,” he whispers. “I don't want to leave things like this.”

You draw in a deep breath and touch his chest. “Just,” you breathe out. “Please stop provoking them. Stop with the snide comments. It’s okay to still be upset, I could never understand what you feel, and I could never ask you to forgive him, but please for me, for Aerion, just leave them alone,” you plead and press your other hand against his jaw. “You are better than that, Aemond. I know it. You have a good heart, you always have.”

Aemond’s gaze softens and he immediately presses his forehead against yours, letting you then slide your hands to the back of his head.

“I’m sorry too,” you add. “I shouldn't have gotten so angry at you.”

Aemond shakes his head and assures you softly. “There’s no need for apologies, not from you.”

You flash him a grin and then gently press your lips against his.

He actually doesn’t kiss you back right away, he savors the taste of your kiss since you’ll be leaving him for two weeks. It’s only when you’re about to pull back that he pulls you back in, leading you into a slow and gentle kiss that neither of you try to rush and instead let fuel your burning desires. You let your affection and need for each other control you. All you know is that you were going to be late meeting your mother and the rest of your family.

“I,” you say between the slow kisses. “I’m not bleeding. It was a false alarm. We can do this. I want you, so I can remember how you felt when I’m alone.”

Aemond chuckles softly and meets your gaze with a smirk. “I wouldn't have cared if you were.”

You mirror his gesture and before long those slow and sweet kisses turn rougher and sloppier, lighting your body on fire with desire, and putting his member at attention for you to drool over.

When he notices your hungry gaze he grabs the back of your hand and presses your palm over his clothed member. You smirk and turn your wrist to grab a hold of his aching cock, but leave him craving your touch, and instead, you strip down to nothing, making him walk back to sit on the couch and watch how the firelight captures your body so perfectly for only him to see.

When you’re left with nothing on but the jewelry you wear, you walk to him and simply unbuckle his pants and pull them down and let his cock spring out and fill your mind with so many dirty thoughts.

Unfortunately, most can’t come to flourish today though, you have to satisfy yourself with one thing so you’re not left in shambles without him in Dragonstone. Thus you saddle his hips and press a kiss on the corner of his lips.

Aemond groans in complaint as he wants more, and wants nothing more but to make each other one, but you must want to keep people waiting because you begin to leave a trail of kisses down to his neck, making a chill travel down his spine, and a wicked smirk to play on his lips.

“Fuck me,” you demand him. “So I can go to sleep tonight thinking about how good you make me feel when you’re inside me,” you whisper so seductively that his breath hitches and his hands fall on your hips to push you down to his aching member because he can’t go on not feeling you gummy walls.

He wanted you since the moment you placed his hand on your thigh, but he kept his patience, and now that you’re in the privacy of your room and he’s no longer bothered by the mere sight of the visitors around the table, all he wants is you; your lips, your breasts, and your aching cunt that weeps for him, that squeezes him so tight he groans in your mouth.

You’ve felt him many times before, but still, each time his cock goes in it’s like the first time; he’s so long.

“Wait, wait,” you pant and take his hand that he keeps on your hip, and bring it up to his face. When he figures out what you want, he grabs his eyepatch and pulls it off his head. Once the firelight gleams against his sapphire you smile sweetly and give him a taste of what he wants by rolling your hips, making him push himself deeper inside you as his breathing falters and his hand slides back to grab a handful of your ass.

“Aemond,” you can’t help but moan.

He bites his lip and once he has his composure he captures your lips and rolls his tongue inside before he starts thrusting his length inside you, making you stop your attempts to suck on his tongue and instead claw his shoulders.

Now that pleasure that coils feels like wildfire. You’re overwhelmed with pleasure in the best way possible, not being able to think about anything but the way his cock keeps rubbing against your walls as he moves in and out of you even if you’re the one on top

You don’t even want to lose touch with his wet lips because it adds to the sensation and the pleasuring fire, but you can’t hold it in, and he’s not moving his lips anymore because he’s so lost in his pleasure; you pull back, but stay connected by a string of saliva for a moment as you catch your breath before you throw your head back and start to moan his name like prayer as his cock keeps penetrating you roughly.

“So perfect. So perfectly made for…me,” he babbles on with a half-lidded eye. “Fuck,” he hisses and grips your ass, leaving marks that you can’t feel because of how lost you are in the sensation of his cock bullying inside you.

You don’t bother to do any work until he fits himself all the way inside and hits that heavenly g-spot.

“Aemond, please,” you beg before you lean back and grab his thighs to start bouncing for him, leaving you in a perfect angle for him to watch how your tits bounce with your delicious movements.

He could keep watching you all day, but you have him too fired up, his insides are turning and threatening to snap, and two weeks without your touch is hell, so he cups your breasts and begins messaging them as he thrusts up to meet your hips, creating obscene sounds of skin slapping that echo around the room.

“Aemond,” you whine, making him moan to the ceiling and move faster.

You keep whining his name as the tip of his cock keeps hitting that perfect spot that is about to tip everything over and bring an end to this quick goodbye sex. And hearing him heave and moan your name isn’t helping, you begin to squeeze tighter, driving him further to the edge, and only fueling his roughness.

You want to prolong this moment, keep feeling him inside your guts, but the time is ticking and they will leave you behind, so you lean in and continue to kiss him, finding his weakness by pushing your tongue in his open-mouthed kiss.

Aemond lets out a throaty groan and starts rolling your hips for you, bringing you to a stop as you can’t hold it back anymore, a blinding pleasure slams in you, and all you see are stars as you drown his cock with your warm cum. He doesn’t last longer either, he grows sloppier, and his breathing grows ragged until he snaps and moans inside your mouth as he spills his hot seed inside you.

After a few sloppy thrusts, he falls back on the couch and you fall on his chest and hang your hands around his neck.

“I will never get tired of this,” you murmur as you caress the back of his neck and lose your gaze on the fire in the distance that makes you both gleam because of the sweat that sticks to your skin. “This is better than flying.”

Aemond chuckles. “I have to admit it is,” he says in that low voice that works to lure you and tempts you to go for a second round. But you hold back for the sake of your waiting family and instead smile and press a kiss on his shoulder before you pull back to face him.

“Once we move to Dragonstone, you will get tired of me.”

Aemond scoffs. “I never could. Never.”

You offer him a soft smile before you grab his shoulders as you remember something. “That’s right! My present!” You giggle and then slip off, making you both groan and leaving you both feeling empty.

Even so, you take no time to think about the chill or the good way you ache, you excitedly run to the chest in your room.

Aemond watches your naked body with a smirk and a craving for more.

“Since we did get married so suddenly I couldn’t have this made before, but…” you trail off and pull out a long-sheathed weapon. “…I do have it now. That’s what counts.”

You turn around and show off the sheathed sword. “This is for you, my love.”

You rush back to him, but he meets you halfway after pulling his pants on so you won't have to carry it all the way to him.

“I do hope you like it,” your voice grows quieter with worry and insecurity. “And any adjustments you may need let the smith know.”

Aemond takes the sheathed weapon from you with hesitance as if he doesn’t believe you’re being honest.

“Come on,” you encourage him. “Open it.”

Aemond takes a moment and looks at you first with awe before he unwraps the pommel first, showing off a dragon's head that is shaped like Vhagar.

You can’t contain your excitement even if you don’t know if he’ll like it, and point at the gems where the eyes are meant to be. “Tiny green emeralds for the eyes because your dragon is green,” you grin and shake his arm. “Go on, reveal the blade!”

Aemond drops his gaze and can’t hide his grin as he unsheathes the long blade that glimmers brightly against the fire's light.

“Now,” you add as you wrap your arms around his neck to admire the silver metal mixes with the dark metal that is Valyrian steel. “I know it isn't fully Valyrian Steel, but…I used my chain necklace to mix some in. Now you’ll always carry a bit of me with you, even when we’re apart.”

You look at him and admire him using his finger to trace the dark metal elegantly swirled in the blade.

“Do you like it?” You whisper and watch for any slight twitch on his face that could give away that he doesn’t.

However, Aemond doesn't let you read the side of his face too long at all because he lifts his gaze as he puts the sword down and turns around to face you with a soft awestruck smile that he only lets you see.

He's usually so stiff and nonchalant because there’s almost always people around, but when it’s just Aerion, and you, he lets go, he laughs with such deep and genuine amusement and lets his blue eye glimmer adoration that makes it hard not to fall in love with him.

“I love it,” he says before he kisses you. Yet it doesn’t last long because he pulls back and whispers against your lips. “I love you.”

You smile with awe and don’t hesitate to repeat those words that once tasted bitter when you spoke them to him. “I love you too. Now and forever.” You mean your words of affection. Truly.

“Now and forever,” he repeats.

With one more kiss from his lips, you then quickly dress yourself and fix what was messed up. Before leaving to meet with your mother though, you prolong the moment longer by bringing in Aerion.

“Now my sweet boy,” you tell him. “Say goodbye to your father.”

Aerion eyes fill with tears and his pout trembles as your words make sense in his mind.

“You’ll sleep again soon enough,” Aemond assures the cranky baby. “I’ll see you in two week's time.” He presses a kiss on Aerion’s head of curls and caresses his cheek one more time before he gives you attention. “Send a Raven if anything happens. I’ll write to you later.”

You nod and steal one more kiss, but linger in each other's taste before you pull away and force yourself to leave before you change your mind and stay with Aemond.

Once you finally meet up with your family to leave, Jacaerys groans. “What took you so long?” He complains.

You shoot him a glare and shake your head. “Don’t worry about it,” you brush him off.

Since your mother is already waiting in the carriage you quickly climb in with Aerion and apologize to her only once you’re sat down. You completely ignore Daemon.

“Sorry,” you breathe out. “We can leave now.”

The carriage door closes behind Lucerys and both of your brothers squeeze in with you even if there’s more space in this moving carriage beside your mother, or quite literally on the same bench.

“Come on little prince,” Jacaerys says and reaches over to take Aerion from you.

Aerion frowns at him albeit and looks away.

“Oh, I see,” Jacaerys murmurs and hits his hands on his thighs. “He takes after his father then.”

You scoff and shake your head. “No,” you counter quickly and smile at your baby boy. “He just got woken up from his slumber. He’s just cranky, aren’t you? But after he gets his sleep then he’ll let you carry him.”

You lift Aerion to get him comfortable, but before you can cradle him in your arms, your mother interjects. “Give him here, I can put him to sleep.”

“Okay,” you whisper happily and hand her your baby.

You expect him to cry or try to reach out for you, but his eyes just water for a moment before he exhales deeply and gets comfortable in your mother's arms.

“He just didn’t like you,” Lucerys teases Jacaerys. “It’s a you thing.”

You snicker and both Lucerys and you nudge him.

“Sure,” Jacaerys grumbles and rolls his eyes. “Anyway!” He speaks louder and hits his thighs again. “Let’s change the subject to what I heard happen tonight.”

They heard Aemond and you making love?

Couldn’t be, they're not on the same floor—seven hells. Your balcony door was open though…

“I heard you punched Aegon.”

Oh, oh! Good. That was scary for a moment.

“Yes, she did,” Lucerys cuts in with excitement. “That ring of hers cut him.”

You begin to smirk. “He deserved it,” you say smugly. “But I can’t brag…he’s a weak fighter. You can even take him,” you playfully jab at Jacaerys.

Your brother shoots you a pointed look, and Lucerys snickers.

“How did you learn to hit like that?” Daemon interrupts, causing your amusement to flicker with annoyance and distaste—“the swing seemed practiced.”

“From lurking in the shadows like a creep,” Jacaerys blurts to try and get back at you.

You roll your eyes and push him away. You don’t want to answer, but your mother is here and she’s also waiting for your answer with Aerion falling asleep in her arms, so as to not upset her, you spare one glance at Daemon and respond.

“I learned when I was young…since I’m a Princess I wasn’t allowed to train like the boys, so,” you sigh and smirk at him. “I watched everything they did and taught myself to do it better.”

A proud smile tugs on your mother's lips, and even if you don’t want to notice, a smirk flashes on Daemon’s lips.

“Besides,” you add and grin brightly. “Ser Harwin always said that nothing is more powerful than a strong right hook. He taught me how to throw a punch.”

“We’ll see how good you are with a sword,” Jacaerys taunts you, pulling your attention to him.

“Yeah,” you give in to his offer smugly. “We’ll see.”

——

*A DAY LATER. DRAGONSTONE*

Every day at King’s Landing can never measure up to moments like these with your family. You’ve missed it, all of the chaos and the comfortable atmosphere. Even if you have your differences with Daemon, his presence doesn’t bother you as much—you don’t let it bother you as much anyway.

At King’s Landing with Aemond’s family, it’s always so awkward, they’re never together as one. They spend breakfasts apart, dinners are hardly eaten together and there’s always some kind of uncomfortable tension. It’s why you just spend time alone with Aemond and Aerion, being with the Queen, her father, and the other kids is awkward. Besides, no one at King’s Landing besides Vanessa knows how to style your hair.

“Higher. Raise your blade higher!” Jacaerys scolds Lucerys.

“Mother,” you break your silence and look away from your brothers sparring to mindlessly watch the sand.

She hums in response, letting you continue.

“In our family history,” you pause and blink to glance over at Rhaena playing with Aerion. “Has there ever been Targaryen’s who may be…immune to fire?”

There has to be an answer for the impossible things you’ve noticed. A small mention in your history books.

“Hm, not that I can recall,” she responds and reaches down to pick up a golden cuff from your palm to put it on your hair. “We are known to tolerate heat more than an average person can, but no, there haven’t been any fire-immune Targaryen’s recorded. If there had been we would have known, right?”

Nothing but more questions.

“That’s right,” you agree softly and return your gaze to your brothers.

“Why?” She asks and leans closer to you. “Any particular reason?”

You debate telling her what you have been discovering about yourself lately, but you can’t tell her what you aren’t sure of yet, you'll sound mad without hard proof. What if you just have a higher tolerance than others who have come before you? You need to learn more before you can tell her or anyone else.

“Just curious,” you simply avoid the truth.

“Well you can always try the library,” she offers some aid as she reaches down to grab the last golden cuff from your palm before parting her lips again. “You can also ask Daemon those questions. He knows a lot more than I do. He spends a lot of time reading about our history.”

She’s attempting to have her husband and you bond again. She started this ridiculous mission when you climbed on the ship to come here.

And as thoughtful as her attempts are, she can wipe your father's blood off Daemon's hands, her attempts are futile, but you don’t want to discourage her yet so you just hum to keep her assured.

“Princess,” a different voice suddenly interjects, pulling the attention of all four of you seated on the sand—“A raven came to you from King’s Landing.”

The maester approaches your family and much to your surprise he comes to a stop beside you with the small scroll in his hands.

You immediately smile since you know exactly who it’s from, and quickly push yourself to your feet to gently take the scroll from his hand. “Thank you, Maester.” You tell him sweetly before sitting back down to read what Aemond wrote.

“My love, I write to you urgently to command you to return home at once.

Aemond.”

“Oh,” Baela says teasingly. “A raven from your beloved. What does he say? He beckons you home already?”

You blink repeatedly in confusion, finding his urgency concerning. Yet you don’t feel rushed to return home to him; you just arrived at Dragonstone and you told him two weeks. Besides, what if he’s just being difficult because of his indifferences with your family?

Tsk. He can wait.

“He just misses me,” you retort with a smile and roll the scroll back to tuck it in the bracelet cuff around your bicep. “He can stay missing me for the next two weeks.”

Baela snickers.

“I'm glad you can bring out something good from him,” your mother interjects. “Gods know how much Alicent poisons them.”

You mindlessly begin to fiddle with your ring around your finger and query. “You really think so?”

“Yes, I saw it, the way he looks at you. The eyes never lie.”

The corner of your lips tug to a soft flattered smile and your heart skips a beat.

“You!” You hear Jacaerys exclaim, and when you lift your gaze you see that he’s pointing at you.

“Come spar against me,” he taunts you and lowers his arm. “You keep saying you’re good, but I have yet to see it. Your words mean nothing unless you show us.”

You share an amused look with Baela before you shrug nonchalantly. “I’m not so sure now. I wouldn’t want to hurt your ego in front of your betrothed. Just…believe me and leave it at that, dear brother.” You tease him lightheartedly as you cross your legs over the other and lean back on your hands.

“Then you’re not good,” he counters smugly, knowing how to lure you in. “Accept my challenge and show me you are this great swordsman and I will shut up about it. Or don’t and I will annoy you forever and you reign you a liar.”

You roll your head back to pretend that his plan didn’t work the way he wanted it to, and quip, “you already do annoy me. But,” you sigh and sit up. “Fine, only so you’ll shut up about it.”

You walk to your brother nonchalantly as if you're not excited to show your skill, or happy that he wasn't a stickler for stupid sexist rules. When you pass by Lucerys you motion him to give you his sparring sword.

“Be careful,” your little brother says over his shoulder.

“You won’t change?” Jacaerys points to your gown.

You shake your head. “Don’t need to. I can beat you with it on.”

You shoot him a smirk and choose to stand across from him on the sand. “I won’t go easy just so you know,” you let him know. “I will play by your training rules though just so you won’t get hurt.”

“As if,” he grumbles while he fixes his grip around his blade.

You roll your shoulders back and shift your feet in the way Aemond stands. You then narrow your gaze on your brother and wait for his first move.

Thankfully, he grows impatient right away so he comes charging at you right away. When he gets close he swings at your neck, but you duck and then spin around him quickly.

Jacaerys watches you get away and quickly tries to meet your next move before you can give it away, but you surprise him by clawing one hand on his shoulder and using your other hand to grip his arm to shove him down.

Right away rather than staying down and giving you a path to a quick feat, Jacaerys rapidly pushes himself up and thrusts his sword at your side, but you manage to block him and then use your leg to kick him back.

Jacaerys glances down at his throbbing chest and quickly finds you again to flash a bothered frown that he's holding back from showing his impressed smile. You on the other hand shoot him a smug grin to work him up.

And just like you thought, he can't stand your cocky smile, it offends him too much so he comes at you again, and swings down this time, but you avert his blade by turning to the side.

That swift move infuriates him more so he uses his anger to keep swinging, but you just keep swerving his swings.

“Fight back,” he growls.

You click your tongue and roll out, “fight better.”

This time, however, you actually do as he says and charge at him before swinging up. Jacaerys brings his sword over to block you, but at the last second, you trick him and end up spinning around him, managing to hit his arm harshly with your blade before you face his back.

Your brother hisses and grabs his arm, but doesn't stop from trying to attack. You don’t let him move though, instead, you kick him down to the sand and proceed to stride over to him to flip him around and point your sword at his throat.

“What do I win?” You ask proudly.

Jacaerys huffs out in annoyance and throws his sword aside, letting you do the same to offer him your hand.

“Come on, get up,” you offer without that teasing air in your voice.

Your brother sighs deeply in defeat and seems to hesitate, but he ends up taking your hand to let you help him back to his feet.

“You did good,” you compliment him seriously. “A lot better than six years ago that’s for sure.”

Jacaerys snatches his hand away from yours and glances behind you, you follow his line of gaze and catch Daemon is now watching, but you ignore him and focus on your mother's smile instead while she holds Aerion now.

“You…did good too,” Jacaerys redirects quietly as he scratches the back of his head.

You giggle and shove past him to pick up the sword from the ground.

“You did good, Princess,” Daemon interjects, interrupting the pleasurable moment you had been sharing with your family. “But you can do better.”

His footsteps hit the sandy surface and approach you. When he stops near you his shadow casts over you, and your anger breaks out of that little box you wanted to contain it in for the purpose of this trip to go well.

“I don’t need your help,” you snap at him and don’t fret to meet his gaze with a burning glare.

You would have snapped at him and called him a murderer, but you don’t have evidence and you still don’t want to ruin this trip, so you just clench your jaw and stab the sword in the sand before you shove past him and stomp over to your son.

Your mother calls out to you and tries to talk to you, but you just gently take Aerion from her since your anger is not directed at her.

“Come on baby, let’s get you inside,” you whisper to your baby boy and then storm away.

Your mother calls out to you desperately, but you ignore her, and instead of going inside as you said, you take a detour to the hill by the castle when you catch Astraea resting.

“<Hello, girl,>” you greet the dragon as you press your forehead against her jaw.

Astraea growls softly and leans against you, making you smile softly and that frustration melt away.

“Do you want to feel her?” You ask Aerion and then grab his little hand to press it against Astrea’s hard purple scales.

Aerion grins brightly and kicks his feet, he tries to laugh, but he can’t do so just yet so he just gapes like a fish.

“<Goodgirl.>” You praise your dragon in High Valyrian before approaching footsteps interrupt your peace and work to deteriorate all the joy had felt.

Albeit when you check who’s approaching you’re relieved to see it’s just your brothers, and ashamed to say you got worked up without looking at who it was.

“I won’t apologize,” you mutter, knowing that your mother probably sent them to address your previous dramatic scene. “I just need time.” You say and turn to drag yourself down to the ground beside your dragon's head.

“We aren’t here you tell you to apologize,” Jacaerys rebuttals as both he and Lucerys slow down to a stop before you and Aerion. “Nor do I think Daemon cares if you do.”

You turn Aerion around so he can face you, and begin making faces at him so he can smile.

“We've come to tell you that we understand,” Lucerys shares, making you blink repeatedly. “We understand your anger and distance.”

You keep a lighthearted expression for Aerion’s sake, but your voice tells your anger and sadness. “How can you do it? Look at him in the eye every day after what he did?” You can’t help but ask without even a little explanation, you were angry, but they’re also old now, they grasp things better, they understand a lot more than before, and they must suspect what you do.

“What did he do?” Lucerys asks innocently, but you don’t hold back for his sake.

“He killed father to marry mother.”

“Your father,” Jacaerys deadpans. “Laenor was only your father.”

You snap your head to the side and look at him with a pointed glare. “Does that matter? He still raised you, he was still there and Daemon took him away. So how can you do it? Because I can’t…look him in the eye without thinking of father, without wanting to kill him.”

Jacaerys and Lucerys share a brief look before they sit with you. They remain silent for a while, most likely trying to find what to say to try and ease the pain you express to them for the first time.

“I can’t say I haven’t thought about that,” Jacaerys admits softly. “I don’t trust Daemon, but there’s nothing we can do about theories. We have no evidence, and he…makes mother happy.”

You sigh deeply and look down at Aerion watching you. “I know,” you whisper and look up at the sky to avoid crying. “I just have to suck it up. But…you don’t think I’m mad for holding that against him right?” You can't help but ask and look at both of your brothers and wait.

Lucerys meets your gaze and a variety of emotions run behind his eyes before he slowly shakes his head. “No, we—I understand why you’re angry, and it’s okay. You can be mad at him all you want.”

You hold his gaze before you share a soft admiring grin. “You've really grown up, huh?”

Lucerys scoffs softly. “It’s been six years,” he says timidly nonetheless.

You nod slowly in comprehension and glance down at Aerion with a soft smile before you glance at your brothers. “Thank you for coming up to talk to me, and trying to understand.”

Lucerys offers you a soft smile, and Jacaerys averts his gaze to interject. “We stand with you, sister. We need you to know that.” He goes quiet and slowly lowers his gaze to lock his eyes on you and finish. “On this matter, and all the others you may face.”

Lucerys nods in agreement, making your eyes fill with happy tears. “Thank you,” you mewl.

“Don’t cry,” Jacaerys mumbles uncomfortably.

You laugh and shake your head. “I won’t.”

You wipe away a stray tear and hide your face by looking down at Aerion putting a strand of your hair in his mouth. “Just let me enjoy this moment.”

At least now you know you don’t stand alone in the anger against Daemon.

——

*THE NEXT DAY*

The difference between Jacaerys and Lucery's fighting style is that Lucerys is a bit too gentle and too slow, and Jacaerys is too angry and doesn’t try to be tactical. Jacaerys puts up a fight unlike Lucerys, who leaves himself too open. It’s why you find a way to shove his dominant hand before you raise your leg and kick him back on the sand.

“Lucerys,” you breathe out slowly.

Said boy groans and manages to hastily push himself up. “I know,” he grumbles in disappointment.

You walk over to him and grab his arm to help him to his feet. “You left yourself too open,” you point out the mistakes you caught. “Don’t think too much about it either, or else your enemy will get you a lot faster.”

Lucerys nods in comprehension and you can't stay too stoic, you offer him a small smile and pat his shoulder. “You did better this time though.” You assure him before you walk past him.

“You are speaking to him too gently,” Jacaerys scolds you as he takes your spot across Lucerys. “He won’t get any better that way.”

You spin around as you walk past him and shrug. “He won’t learn anything if you’re mean either,” you counter and plop yourself on the sand to watch Jacaerys spar against Lucerys now.

Once again Jacaerys is too aggressive, and Lucerys is too slow to catch up to his brother. It’s almost too hard to watch, you hate seeing Lucerys get hurt, but you watch for his sake so you can teach him his mistakes in ways Jacaerys is too impatient to do.

“What. Was. That?” Jacaerys spats as he shoves Lucerys to the ground.

“I'm sorry,” Lucerys grunts.

“You might go easier on him, my Prince,” an older Kingsguard knight interjects as he walks to your brothers. “So he can learn what you’re trying to teach.”

You hum in agreement.

“Your lady mother needs to see you!” The sound of your grandmother's voice carries out through the wind, stealing everyone’s attention and catching all of you by surprise. “The three of you!”

You had seen Meleys arrive not so long ago, but her armor wasn’t something you expected her to be wearing. Nor did you expect her to come see you all so soon. Should it be concerning?

“Is everything all right?” You ask your grandmother once you reach her under the cave.

Your grandmother Rhaenys lets out a deep sigh and points to where the castle is. “Go on, she needs you.”

That didn’t help anything whatsoever.

“All—”

“Have you received any news from your husband?” She cuts you off.

You blink in confusion and answer quietly. “No. Just a raven to demand me back home…why?”

She simply holds your gaze and answers nonchalantly. “I’m sure your mother will explain. Now go, all three of you.”

You share a concerned look with your brothers before you hurry into the castle and do as she says. Once inside you look out for anything suspicious, but Dragonstone is quiet as usual, there’s nothing out of the ordinary.

That is true until you begin to approach your mother's chambers because as soon as you get close you hear grunts and cries of pain echoing out. When you make it inside her quarters you instantly freeze as you notice she’s in a birthing gown, bathed in sweat, and grabbing onto her waist to ease whatever pain she can.

“Mother?” Jacaerys calls out because you can’t muster even a breath.

“Fuck,” your mother groans.

The babe isn’t meant to come out yet.

“Princess,” Maester Gerardys calls out to your mother distracted by her pain.

When she slowly turns to face you and your brothers, you let out a shaky breath and climb down the stone stairs to fall by Jacaerys side and be under your mother's gaze as well.

“Your grandsire, King Viserys, has passed,” she announces with strain, making you gasp.

“V-Viserys?” Lucerys repeats in disbelief, whilst you try to progress the tragic news in silence.

Is that why—Aemond knew, didn't he? That’s why he wanted you home only a day after you left. He knew and he didn’t say a thing.

“The Greens have repudiated the succession,” your mother adds what was beginning to come across your mind. “And claimed the Iron Throne.”

The maester leaves hastily, and more grief piles on you, making it hard to breathe properly.

“Aegon has been crowned King.”

That drunk, rapist with no sense of any kind of responsibility?

“What is to be done about it?” Jacaerys asks what ran through your mind.

“Nothing yet,” your mother says.

“Where is Daemon?”

“I don’t know,” your mother's voice quivers. “Gone to madness.” She shakes her head. “Gone to plot his war.”

“Leave daemon with me,” Jacaerys cuts in and turns on his heels to storm off, taking Lucerys with him, while you stay there frozen to your spot, trying to wrap your mind around your grandfather's death and Aemond’s betrayal.

“Jace,” your mother calls out, but he doesn’t stop—“Jacaerys!”

You blink and slowly look at the entrance and watch him stop and turn to face your mother.

“Whatever claim remains to me,” she says through her pain. “You are now its heir. Naught is to be done but by my command.”

Jacaerys nods stiffly and lingers there for a few more seconds before he walks away to do as he had thrown out moments ago, and you…you look back at your mother and feel your heart sink. Whatever grief and anger you feel over the news, you shove that aside for now and rush to her side.

“I’m here,” you assure her as she begins grunting and crouching down. “I’m here.”

You grab her arm and hook it around your neck. “We should try sitting down, or lying,” you suggest.

Your mother shakes her head and clutches onto your shoulder as another wave of pain hits her.

What could you do to ease her pain? What can you do to make her feel more comfortable at this very moment? She cries and groans, she paces mindlessly trying to relieve herself of the pain, but the babe refuses to come out.

You’ve been through the pain of birth now, you know how much it hurts to have someone come out of your own body. You’ve also witnessed it after Lady Arra suffered through it for hours, but at this very moment, as your mother suffers through early labor, labor is still something you can’t comprehend, something you can’t find words for.

No matter how much you plead to let her ladies-in-waiting help her, she refuses. She refuses water and doesn't let you lay her down. All you can do is walk with her, hold her as she pushes, and hear her as the pain seems to become worse. She even calls out for Daemon, probably so he can comfort her, or so she can give him orders, but he never comes.

Not like that surprises you, not because of how you think he might be, but because he is a man. Men aren’t usually a part of the labor process, Cregan wasn’t there for Arra, and Aemond only came to you after you asked for him; you were so afraid you were going to die and Alicent refused to let your mother go to you, so all you wanted then was Aemond.

You can’t lie and say Cregan didn’t come to mind, he always had a way to comfort you with so much ease. He didn’t struggle like Aemond did, but you never let his name slip when you were on your birthing bed. And when Aemond was there you were grateful that he was and that he found it in himself to try as best as he could. So maybe that’s all you can do now too, try your best for your mother.

You rub her back and move her hair behind her shoulders so it isn’t bothering her. You let her squeeze your hand as hard as she wants and never let her go. There comes a point through her painful pushing that she finally lets you drag her down to the ground, but you can hear her cries are full of much more heightened pain, and the blood that stained the bottom half of her body becomes much more.

“Princess let us help you,” her handmaiden, Elinda pleads, but your mother doesn’t pay them any attention.

“Get out!” She bellows as she lifts her gown. “Get out!”

“Princess please.”

You slide your mother's arm off your body and crawl forward to help her, but she pushes away from you.

“Mother,” you beg between tears you try your hardest to fight away.

“Let us help you,” Elinda continues to press.

Your mother reaches out for your hand, and you quickly return to her side and let her clutch onto you as she screams sharply while she pushes out harder.

Now, however, with this push, blood pours out from her, surrounding your feet and staining the sheer white gown you put over your black training outfit. You want to help her pull the babe out, but she refuses your help and pulls out the baby herself with a long and painful cry.

The moment the baby girl comes out, that pain that riddled her body seems to ease, but the grief that hits her upon seeing the babe is probably worse than her pain.

The babe is so small, her bones are clearly prominent against her skin. There’s bumps you can’t identify poking out of her head, and her skin is…scaly, unlike anything you’ve seen on a human child; It looks like a dragon's skin. Yet throughout all that observation, you still search for a sign of life, you wait to see your baby sister's chest move…but her eyes never open, and a cry never fills the room.

It’s so deafeningly quiet now, your mother doesn’t cry anymore and the handmaidens don’t plead to help. And the baby, little Visenya is so still, so incredibly still. There’s nothing you can do now but be there and cradle your mother as she cradles Visenya’s body.

You don’t say anything, quiet tears stream out of your eyes—tears brought by your own grandfather's death, by the betrayal jabbing your heart, and by your sister's death before she could even take her own breath.

Even so, as paralyzed as you are, you find the strength to press a gentle kiss on the side of your mother's head and let her rest her head against yours as she sits there.

Who knows how much time passed before you moved, but even then your mind is moving too fast to grasp anything at all. It feels like you’re outside of your body just watching it move throughout the castle halls. And funny enough, the only person you want to comfort you is Aemond; the man who helped his brother usurp your mother's throne. You want him with you, hugging you and telling you that it will all be fine, you want him with you.

Flying home even crosses your mind, you want to run into his arms and let him hold you, you want to breathe in his charming scent, and tell him that you’re not really mad at him for what Aegon did, you know the influence his mother holds, and that poisoned him at a young age. You don’t blame him for Aegon’s coronation, you’re just upset that he didn’t say anything.

You still wouldn't side with the Greens though, not only because Aegon makes a terrible ruler, but because your mother is the true heir, your grandfather deemed it that way and never declared otherwise, his word is law and they broke it.

So much for following the rules.

Alas, Aemond can’t be here, and you can’t leave. Your mother needs you, and…if it’s a war that will break out then you want to fight for the right side.

So after a short bath and a change of clothes, you and your three brothers walk out and join your mother and Daemon for the funeral on a stony hill. Other people stand behind your mother and Daemon too; the other residents who live here, a couple of workers, your cousins of course, and your grandmother stands behind the crowd watching the pyre burn in silence

The moment is quiet, deafening so. You can even hear the flames from where you stand, the gentle breaths of your brothers near you, the waves lapping in the distance. After a while though, the sound of swords unsheathing breaks through the grieving silence. You break away from your stupor and see a knight of the Kingsguard who's not a part of the three that were already here walk up the hill.

“I mean no harm, brothers,” the man announces before he takes his helmet off.

Since you stand to the side it’s hard to identify who he is, so before your curiosity can kill you, you step forward and that’s when you see that it’s one of the twins; Ser Eryyk. He kneels before your mother and takes out…your grandfather's golden crown from his satchel.

“I swore to ward the Queen,” he doesn’t wait to proclaim loudly and with confidence. “With all my strength, and give my blood for hers….”

You gasp softly in disbelief, but you can’t help a proud smile from forming on your face.

It’s good that someone isn't afraid to break away from the man who calls himself King, that someone is loyal to your mother; the true Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

“I shall take no wife,” Ser Eryyk continues to preach his oath. “Hold no lands…father no children. I shall guard her secrets…obey her commands, ride at her side, and defend her name and honor.���

You look at your mother and watch Daemon approach her with the crown. For once you watch him with pride and glee as he sits the golden crown over your mother's head before he kneels before her.

Your mother does seem a bit shocked that she’s getting crowned, but when it seems to pass you catch her eyes lift to the crowd as they start to kneel before her and declare their loyalty. Her eyes then find you and your brothers, and they proceed to bend the knee too. When her eyes then lock with yours, you shoot her a small proud smile before you lift your skirt and bend the knee before your Queen, making your choice between both sides clear to her and everyone else. She is your Queen from now and until the end.

——

*LATER*

There are words in high Valyrian that are often used in Velaryon funerals, “From the Sea we came, to Sea we shall return.”

You never really found deeper meaning behind those words, not even when your aunt Laena died. They were beautiful, and a part of your beliefs as a Velaryon, but they were words until your father was the one who returned to the Sea.

Now all you do is desperately look for him. He wasn’t put to rest in Dragonstone, he was put to rest in the sea around Driftmark, next to his sister, but he became one with the sea after death, he is everywhere the water touches, from here, to the coldest waters far North, beyond the tall wall.

Yet no matter how long you stand in the dark waters, all you feel is cold water hitting your legs and weighing your gown, you just feel the cold wet sand between your toes, and a sharp, unfriendly breeze sway you back. There’s no sign of your father's presence to comfort you when you need him the most.

Can't he see that you still love Aemond even if he betray your mother and in turn you? Doesn’t he know you lost a sister, and your mother got her throne usurped? Doesn’t he know you need him now?

Why can’t he be here to embrace you? Why can’t you feel his presence in this vast Sea? You ask yourself in your mind as if a response is given to your inner thoughts, your name is called out and travels over the sound of crashing waves.

You peer back and see your grandmother watching you with a hint of pity and also a bit of disbelief as she recalls his son within you.

“It’s cold, come out,” she urges and only takes a step forward so she won’t get wet.

You look back at the endless Sea, letting the breeze blow through your hair and over your face; drying the tears that roll down your cheeks. You hope to feel a sliver of your father's presence but…you’re left feeling empty, so you trudge out of the water and get met with hands on your shoulders.

“I miss him now more than ever,” you tell your grandmother with a quivering voice.

Your grandmother lets out a deep breath and nods gently as she moves her hands up to cup your cheeks and wipe away your tears.

“Me too,” she makes you feel less alone in your longing. “I’ll say that I see him in you all the time. And in your son. He’s still with us.”

You slowly meet her gaze and offer her a faint smile. Can you say you feel completely and totally comforted? No, nothing can ever heal the wound your father's loss left, but her words do bring you peace.

“Can I ask how you’re feeling? You must be torn,” your grandmother asks out of concern.

You sigh and shrug. “I know my side,” you confess that confidently, but you avert your gaze when it comes to bringing up Aemond. “But when I think about Aemond, my heart still races, and I'm still riddled with my love for him, but…I know where his loyalties lie and that he’ll never change and that confuses me because I want to be with him, but also support my mother…I don’t know what to do.”

Your grandmother caresses your cheeks and then slides her hands to cradle your shoulders and keep you facing her. “I could tell you to run back to his arms, I know love. I know you want to be a family for your son.” She nods softly but narrows his gaze to show determination. “But this strain right now will turn into war. You must think if you want to be locked inside a cage of their making, or be free here.”

You don’t want to be locked away, and you know…you can be certain that returning to Kings Landing will guarantee you a seat in a golden cage where Helaena sits because you can’t see Aegons council trusting you. Aemond would trust you after you took a moment to talk, and whisper sweet nothings in his ear, but he’s still no king. And you can’t see yourself soaring free unless he somehow takes control, or has a hand in controlling Aegon, otherwise they would most likely lock you away, and you can’t accept it. You won’t.

But Aemond…you want to see Aemond again…

“I see,” is all you can find yourself to tell your grandmother, and she doesn’t seem convinced but it can’t be easy coming to terms with your choice when there’s someone on the other side pulling you back.

“Let’s head inside the meeting should be starting soon, that’s why I came to fetch you,” she changes the subject so you wouldn’t be thinking about the subject a moment longer.

But you still have a lingering worry about Aemond so before you can walk inside the meeting room you share it with someone you know you can trust. “What if they demand Aerion’s return? Or worse they come and take him? He is Aemond’s son after all.”

She faces you with a smirk on her lips and she grabs your hands to reassure your concern. “They can try. They won’t reach my great-grandson, or you.”

You offer her an appreciative smile and walk inside reassured. You know she hasn’t faced war before, but she’s still fierce and a dragon rider you’d trust with your life.

“Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen,” Daemon announces while your mother enters the hall with four guards stiffly around her. “First of Her Name. Queen of the Andals, and the Rhoynar and the First Men. Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.”

You bow your head after he finishes, like everyone else in the room.

“Your Grace.” Daemon addresses her.

You lift your head and watch her approach the table shaped like the Westeros map, but then see her come to a stop as Rhaena approaches her with a goblet. “Wine, my Queen.”

You see your mother hesitate before she takes the goblet from Rhaena. “Thank you, Rhaena. Come,” she points to the table.

When she passes by Baela, she motions her over as well, letting her fall right by your side while you stand by your mother when she reaches the table.

However, when your mother does reach the table she stands in silence, you look over at her out of curiosity, thinking that maybe she’s taking in the markers on the map, but her gaze is taking in everyone around the table first before she finally breaks the silence.

“What is our standing?” She asks.

“We have a hundred crossbowmen, and 300 men-at-arms,” Daemon shares confidently. “Dragonstone is relatively easy to defend, but as an instrument of conquest. Our army leaves a lot to be desired. I sent word to my loyal men in the City Watch. I’ll have some support there, but I cannot speak for numbers.”

He speaks with so much ease, it honestly makes you feel some sort of confidence even if your numbers aren’t impressive.

He’d never hear that from you though. Tsk.

“We already have declarations from Celtigar and Staunton,” the Maester cuts in. “Massey, Darklyn, Bar Emmon.”

Not much.

“My lady mother was an Arryn,” your mother interjects as you watch Jacaerys place markers on your curtain allies. “The Vale will not turn cloak against their own kin.”

“Riverrun was always a close friend to your fathers, Your Grace,” the Maester points out. “With Prince Daemon’s acquiescence, I already sent ravens to Lord Grover.”

Oh by Daemon’s acquiescence? Who gave him permission to do such matters? Your mother when she was in labor?

“Lord Grover is fickle and easily swayed,” your mother argues. “He’ll need to be convinced of the strength of our position, and that we will support him should it come to war.”

You lift your gaze off the table and drag your eyes to Daemon, knowing her comment was directed at him.

“I’m going to treat with him myself,” Daemon volunteers himself and keeps his gaze on your mother. When you glance back at her she holds his gaze as if challenging him and arguing over what he did while she was abed.

“What of Storm’s End and Winterfell?” Lord Darklyn asks, making you snap your attention to him at the mere reminder of Cregan.

Now Cregan is someone who would never betray his oath, he’s a Stark, and he’s simply Cregan; he’s loyal and you can swear by that.

And well he would also never go against you regardless of how things are between him and you currently.

“There has never lived a Stark who forgot an oath,” Lord Bartimos defends Lord Stark. “And with House Stark, the North follows.”

You smirk faintly at the table and mindlessly watch the part of the map where Winterfell is marked.

“Lord Borros Baratheon will need to be reminded of his father's promises,” your mother inputs, causing a knight to put a marker over Winterfell, while Jacaerys puts one down too.

“What news from Driftmark?” Your mother asks your grandmother, turning everyone’s attention to her.

“Lord Corlys sails for Dragonstone,” your grandmother simply says.

“To declare for his Queen,” Daemon assumes, boldly at that.

“The Velaryon fleet is my husband's yoke,” your grandmother counters. “He decides where they sail.”

You scoff smugly and pass a glare to Daemon before looking back at the table.

“We shall pray for both you and your husband's support,” your mother says. “Just as we prayed nightly for the Sea Snake’s return to good health. There is no port on the Narrow Sea that would dare to make an enemy of the Velaryon fleet.”

She then turns and drifts the subject away to a different point. “And our enemies?”

“We have no friends among the Lannisters,” Daemon says. “Tyland has served the Hand too long to turn against him. And Otto Hightower needs the Lannister fleet.”

“Without the Lannisters, we are not like to find any allies west of the Golden Tooth.”

“No,” Daemon quickly agrees before ducking his head and continuing. “The Riverlands are essential, Your Grace.”

“Pray forgive my bluntness, Your Grace,” a Lord cuts in, “but talk of men is moot. Your cause owns a power that has not been seen in this world since the days of Old Valyria. Dragons.”

You pick up your gaze and remind the lord of your similarities with the Greens. “The Greens have dragons as well. Older dragons.”

“They have three adults,” Daemon keeps cutting in. “By my count. We have Syrax, Caraxes, and Meleys. Your daughter has Astraea, and your sons have Vermax, Arrax, and Tyraxes.”

Tyraxes? He’s a baby and too small, as well as Joffrey. He can’t possibly want little Joffrey fighting against three old and experienced dragons.

“Baela has Moondancer.”

“Daemon,” your mother argues. “None of our dragons have been to war.”

Without addressing that comment Daemon keeps going about more dragons. “There are also unclaimed dragons. Seasmoke still resides on Driftmark. Vermithor and Silverwing dwell on the Dragonmount, still riderless. Then there are the three wild dragons, all of whom nest here.”

“And who is to ride them?” Your mother asks what you’re thinking.

“Dragonstone has 14 to their 4. I also have a score of eggs incubating in the Dragonmount.”

And what good will that do? Does he want his toddler sons and your infant son to control hatchlings? Tsk, please.

“Now,” Daemon continues as he grabs a marker. “We need a place to gather. A toehold large enough to house a sizable host.”

He places the marker down and without as much as counseling the Queen he shares his plan. “Here, at Harrenhal. We cut off the west, surround King’s Landing with the dragons and we can have every Green head mounted on spikes before the fucking moon turns.”

You swallow thickly and even if it’s absurd you still worry about Aemond.

“Your Grace,” Ser Eryyk interjects as he strides over. “A ship has been sighted offshore, a lone galleon, flying a banner of a three-headed green dragon.”

The Greens.

“Alert the watchtowers,” once again Daemon gives commands as if he’s King or hand of the Queen. He’s nothing but the simple Prince Consort—“sight the skies.” He takes his sword and storms out, leaving your mother behind.

“Mother,” you say and turn to face her.

“I’ll have Aerion brought in,” she tells you right away while she turns to face you. “I doubt there will be any sort of force, but we need to be assured and I will feel safe if you and Aerion stayed with Jacaerys and the guards.”

You sigh deeply and don’t feel unease until she leaves. Of course, only minutes later Vanessa is brought in with Aerion, but you only grow more worried. You do feel safe with Jacaerys, and you can protect yourself too…unless it’s against Aemond, but it’s doubtful he’ll make an appearance today.

You wait and watch the skies for Vhagar, from a nearby balcony, but as expected he doesn’t show. Your mother eventually returns and brings with her a list of commands given by Lord Otto, and amongst those demands is the immediate release of Aerion and you, as if you were captive here with your mother.

Ultimately though it is up to you, your mother gives you the choice to return to King’s Landing. But being loud and intrusive as he is, Daemon refuses to give you a choice, he finds no need for you to make a choice, or a “stupid choice.”. You’re needed here, he says.

But maybe he just wants to use you because he knows how important Aerion is to Aemond.

Your mother sees right through her husband but says nothing in that regard, at least not in public.

You could run away, you don’t want to be used by Daemon, and he wouldn’t be able to stop you. You can’t imagine it’s that hard to sneak out of Dragonstone. It’s true you don’t know the layout of this castle-like you know the Red Keep, but it can’t be hard.

But you don’t run away even if you’re tempted to go to Aemond. Not to join his side, but to talk to him about all this madness, to well…ease some sense into him.

But you don’t go. Eventually, morning rolls around and you sneak off for a short flight, but you still don’t leave, even if the sky is open and Astraea will do as you please.

“Again!” Jacaerys’ annoying and scolding hits your ears. “This is the third time Mother has sent me to come fetch you.”

You roll your eyes and spin on your heels to skip over and hook your arm around his to lead him to the castle. “Relax, brother, I was just walking and catching some air.”

“In the skies,” he spats. “You were flying on Astraea all morning. Mother told you to keep out of the skies. Have you even gone to see Lord Corlys? He’s here you know.”

You nod. “I know, but he was asleep. I was waiting until he woke up to visit him.”

“Well,” Jacaerys scoffs. “Now you have to wait until after the meeting. Mother is expecting you.”

You sigh. “I know, I know, I’m sorry.”

“You said you wanted to be a part of this,” Jacaerys continues to use that stern voice on you. “Well be a part of it.”

When you enter that hall though you’re consumed by the chaos you just wanted a small escape from. Everyone is talking over one another, pacing around the table, and shouting ideas. It doesn’t come to a stop until Ser Erryk cuts them all off with a booming announcement. “The Lord of the Tides, Lord Corlys Velaryon…”

You lift your gaze and see your grandfather on top of the stairs with a cane and a bandage around his neck. It’s an odd sight seeing such a great man wounded, but it’s the reality of war. He’s lucky he even lived.

“…and his wife, the Princess Rhaenys Targaryen.”

You clasp your hands in front of you and begin to fiddle with the ring around your finger as you watch her, your grandfather, and your cousins trailing behind them, walk down the stairs so formally.

“My lords,” your grandfather greets the men around the table once he’s down the stairs.

“Lord Corlys,” your mother greets the Lord. “It brings much relief to see you hale and healthy again.”

“I’m very sorry about your father, Princess,” he says, “he was a good man.” He then turns and faces the painted table to look around at all the faces gathered. “Where is Daemon?” He asks.

“There were other concerns which demanded the Prince’s attention,” your mother responds.

Your grandfather simply hums and passes your mother without as much as bowing, or addressing her as her proper title; Queen. He just walks past her as if she’s another one of the men.

“Your declared allies?” He points out to the few golden markers.

Your mother nods and approaches the table once more. “Yes.”

“Too few to win a war for the throne.”

Your mother spares him a quick glance before countering. “Well, we would also hope to have the support of houses Arryn, Baratheon, and Stark.”

“Hope…” your grandfather cuts in. “Is the fool's ally.”

You stop fiddling with the ring and lock eyes with your mother before she returns her gaze to Lord Corlys and hardens it. “Both Arryn and Baratheon share blood with my house. But all of them swore oaths to me.”

“As did House Hightower,” your grandfather points out. “If I remember.”

“As did you, Lord Corlys,” your mother redirects with some spite that makes you proud.

Said man stays quiet for a moment, he looks back at you, your brothers standing by you, and your cousins standing by their betrothed for a brief second before focusing back on your mother.

“Your father's realm…” your grandfather interjects loudly. “Was one of justice and honor. Our houses are bound by common blood and common cause. This Hightower treason cannot stand,” he makes clear as he proceeds to fix his stance. “You have the full support of our fleet and house. Your Grace.”

Finally.

You can’t help but share a small, faint smile at the sound of his words. Knowing the man he is, and how it’s rumored his son died, you didn’t think he’d bend the knee to your mother, but he did. Thank the gods.

“You honor me Lord Corlys,” your mother thanks him with a much softer look. “Princess Rhaenys,” she says behind her. “But,” she once again addresses the crowd. “As I said to my bannermen. I made a promise to my father to hold the realm strong and united. If war is first, stroke is to fall, it will not be by my hand.”

“You do not mean to act?” Your grandfather questions.

“Taking caution,” your mother clarifies. “Does not mean standing fast. I wish to know who my allies are before I send them to war.”

Your proud smile for your mother widens at the sound of her determination.

“The consequence of my…near demise in the Stepstones…is that we now control them,” your grandfather announces. “I took care to fully garrison the territory this time. A total blockade of the shipping lanes will be in place in days, if not already. The tiarchy has been routed. The Narrow Sea is ours. If we…further seal the Gullet.” Your grandfather points to the areas on the map. “We can cut off all seaborne travel and trade to King’s Landing.”

“I shall take Meleys and patrol the Gullet myself.” Your grandmother volunteers herself, seeming to surprise your mother that she did not need to command her, that it was out of her free will.

“When we drain the Narrow Sea,” Lord Bartimos interjects. “We can surround King’s Landing. Lay siege to the Red Keep and force the Greens surrender.”

It’s easier said than done, isn’t it? Aemond has the biggest dragon who has seen and been a part of war. Aegon, you must admit, has a good bond with Sunfyre, and Daeron…well you don’t know him well, but his dragon can be as impressive. You’ll have to deal with them first.

“If we are to have enough swords to surround King’s Landing,” your mother inputs. “We must secure the support of Winterfell, the Eyrie, and Storm’s End.”

“I’ll prepare the ravens, Your Grace,” the maester assures her, albeit you aren’t convinced by that or sitting at home, and you know your brothers feel the same.

“No,” you break your silence, “we should bare those messages. In my five years at Winterfell, I grew to befriend Lord Stark, and become familiar with Winterfell, I’m sure I can speak to him and gain his support.”

“Besides,” Jacaerys stands tall and finishes your sentence. “Dragons can fly faster than ravens and they’re more convincing. Send us.”

Sure you said that you needed to leave Cregan alone, but this is war and he is a loyal man so if it’s sides he needs to choose, he might sway easier to yours if you speak to him.

“The Princess and the Prince are right,” your grandfather supports your suggestion, surprisingly enough. “Your Grace.”

Your mother holds your gaze and her eyes soften. She lingers in silence as she watches you and your brothers before she gives her answer. “Very well. Prince Jacaerys and the Princess will fly North...”

You and your brother share a brief proud look before focusing back.

You meant to go to Cregan by yourself, but Jacaerys might help calm your temptations.

“First to the Eyrie to see my mother's cousin, the Lady Jeyne Arryn,” your mother adds. “And then to Winterfell to treat Lord Cregan Stark for the support of the North. Prince Lucerys will fly south to Storm’s End and treat Lord Borros Baratheon. We must remind these Lords of the oaths they swore. And,” your mother exhales. “The cost of breaking them.”

You smirk proudly and nod in agreement.

——

*LATER*

“We’ll just go on a small trip,” you tell baby Aerion. “Your uncle Jacaerys, you, and me.”

Aerion breathes out loudly and his blue eyes seem to search the room with a sad frown. He’s been…upset it seems today, he’s been crying more than usual, and squirming around in your arms. It frightened you at first but it then hit you, he misses Aemond. This is the longest he’s gone without being with him, and Aerion loves his father. He must be so confused as to why he hasn’t seen him, felt his warmth, or smelled his scent.

But as much as you want to cure your son's longing, he needs to wait a bit longer.

“We’ll see your father soon,” you assure Aerion. “I swear. After we return from Winterfell.”

Aerion simply blinks, making you smile at him. A silence once again fills the chambers, but it then is broken by the sound of your name coming from your mother at the entrance.

You turn around and face her with a smile. “Mother,” you greet. “I’m sorry I just came to pick up Aerion.”

Your mother blinks in confusion. “Pick up? Why ever so?”

You swallow thickly and sigh. “If the Greens find out I left him here all alone, I’m sure someone will come and take him. I can’t risk that.”

Your mother nods and then breaks away from the entrance to reach you and grab your hand. “My sweet, leave Aerion here, we will protect him. You won’t take long but with the way things are it’s too dangerous for him to accompany you.” She presses her reassurance as she cups your cheek and caresses it gently. “We swear it.”

You let out a deep breath and nod slowly before you look down at Aerion with sadness. “I’ll return to you, my boy. Soon, I promise.” You lean down and press a gentle kiss on his forehead.

Aerion reaches out to grab your face, so you let him touch your cheeks.

You giggle and then can’t help but snuggle him against you. “Oh, I love you. I’ll see you soon.”

Before you decide not to leave or sob you place him back in his cradle and walk out with a heavy heart.

For however long you’ll be gone is the longest you’ll be without Aerion since he was born. When he was first born even being apart from him for just a couple of minutes pained you, and now? You’ll be gone for days, you’ll probably die.

Yet the promise of seeing Cregan does excite you even if it shouldn’t. Even after the promise you made yourself.

How will he react when he sees you, you wonder? It hasn’t been long since you stopped writing to him, he probably hasn’t grown concerned as to why he hasn’t gotten a response from you, but will he know of your attempts?

You did write back with short sentences last time with attempts to stop yourself from talking to him, so will he know? Will he be upset?

Hopefully not.

Alas, before you could attempt leaving Dragonstone to be one mile closer to Cregan, your mother asks to speak to you and your brothers first before your departure.

“It’s been said that as Targaryens, we are closer to gods than to men,” your mother says. “The Iron Throne puts us a touch closer, perhaps. But, if we are to serve the Seven Kingdoms…we must answer to their gods. If you take this errand, you go as messengers…not as warriors.” She shakes her head. “You must take no part in any fighting. Swear it to me now, under the eyes of the Seven.”

Ser Eryyk brings forth the holy book of the Seven, and Lucerys has no hesitation to respect your mother's wishes. “I swear it,” he assures her.

Jacaerys and you hesitate, however. Only you don’t hesitate because of any objections to her demands, it’s just why those gods?

You don’t have faith in the New Gods, but if it’s what she wants. “I swear,” you assure your mother after Lucerys, leaving only Jacaerys left. He hesitates for a moment longer, but he then leans in and presses his hand on the book.

“I swear it.”

The book is then pulled away, letting your mother continue with the matter at hand. “Cregan Stark is,” she says, making your breath falter. “Closer to your age than to mine. I would hope that as men you can find some common interests. And well, as friends,” she shifts her attention to you. “You’d find no trouble.” She finishes and hands Jacaerys the messages.

“Yes, your Grace,” you assure her confidently.

Her attention then slowly drifts to Lucerys and her gaze softens at the obviously worried look on your little brother's face.

“Storm’s End is a short flight from here,” she assures him softly. “You have Baratheon blood from your grandmother Rhaenys. And…Lord Borros is an eternally proud man. He’ll be honored to host a Prince of the Realm and his dragon.” She hands Lucerys the scroll and holds onto his hand a bit longer. “I expect you will receive a very warm welcome.”

Lucerys nods. “Yes, mother—y-your Grace.”

You share a teasing smile with Jacaerys at the sound of your brother's stammer. When he does return to your side though you caress his shoulder and assure his concerns.

“Go to it then,” your mother orders softly.

You offer her one last smile before you head to where your dragons await for all of you. However, before you can climb on Astraea’s back, you also assure Lucerys.

“Be careful, okay? We’ll see you after we return, hm?”

Lucerys glances at Jacaerys and then at you and nods softly.

You shoot him a grin and pat his shoulder.

“You be careful too,” he redirects.

You scoff softly and walk back to Astraea. “Always, baby brother,” you counter sweetly with one last glance at him.

Now when you turn to face your dragon you can’t help but fill with excitement to see Cregan again. You shouldn’t, but you can’t help it.

.

.

.

.

Tagged- @namelesslosers @stargaryenx @chainsawsangel @lauftivy @winxschester @cloudroomblog @llarue @padsdarlg @sofietargaryen @gracielikegrapes @dreaming-of-the-reality @itzelpeyton @patdsinner33 @mrsdominickstark @elaena-aerrin @todoroki-slut @snh96 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @nifujiswhore @sweethoneyblossom1 @kaetastic @lightdragonrayne @squidscottjeans

[freensrcha]

I told Gong that we broke up. Did you bring me here to tell me that ?

MOONLIGHT CHICKEN | EPISODE 5

[moonlight-singer]

Moonlight memories: Anger

This is part of Ahr'in's memories collected during the expansions , mostly SHB and EW, some from earlier in time. -------------- LIST OF CHAPTERS HERE

[h-didanart]

Have any of you guys ever been doodling when suddenly you’re hit by the angstiest idea ever and so you start workshopping that idea into an au as an alternate timeline to see if it would fit with the au only to create an absolutely heartbreaking and depression inducing scenario, only for your brain to decide that’s not enough and end up creating that same scenario in your two other main aus so that you end up with three deeply traumatized versions of the same character?

Anyone?

No?

That’s fair

I call them the heartbroken trio.

We have a post-Everything Goes To Shit arc Scythe, around January ‘24 Bloody, and a post-Second Takeover Harvest. You may notice I called them by their actual names and not by their usual [insert trait here]!BM names, and that’s on purpose.

See, due to various circumstances in each of their respective timelines, their twins died.

They’ve all taken it very harshly, but express it in different ways, Scythe is more reserved yet more ruthless in her anger, Bloody has become extremely disconnected from everything, and Harvest is an anxious wreck. All their reactions are directly correlated to their twins’ death and how they perceived it.

Anyways, yeah.

New au//timeline thing. Yay?

Oh, and for your troubles

The guy who in his canon lost his twin being extremely conflicted about the newcomers. Cuz in one hand they are versions of versions of himself that he knows that he can relate even more to! But on the other hand they are versions of versions of himself that he knows that he can relate even more to.

Yeah :P

Might elaborate on these guys later

[freakshowsomethingg]

COOKIE YURI !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[it-happened-one-fic]

Hours in the Moonlight: Persevering Afterlight - 14. Time With You

Summary: Getting scolded by one vampire was bad enough. Getting scolded by two… Well, you could certainly say that you hadn’t expected for the next situation with two vampires to involve Leona and Vil snarking at one another.

Series Type: Gender-neutral reader/ Vampire AU/ series/ romantic/ angst/ angst with comfort/ fluff/ sfw/ platonic interactions too!

Trigger Warning: Vampire

Word Count: 1712

Hours in the Moonlight Master-List

Despite my well-meaning promise, I’d failed miserably and fallen into a perfectly blissful sleep while Leona toted me home. And that simple failure was what had led me to this moment. With two vampire men sitting on my couch, each of them eyeing me with similar expressions of displeasure. One, because I’d gone out to fight a vampire without going and getting him or Rook along with getting myself hurt. The other, because I had fallen asleep using his shoulder as my pillow despite my promise.

“Look, I’m sorry,” I started, and Leona’s tail whipped around like a warning behind him as Vil crossed his arms.

“Tater tot, how about rather than apologizing, you start with why he’s here?” Vil looked towards Leona with an expression of deep dislike that had me frowning. 

“I don’t know. I think the Herbivore owes at least one of us an apology,” Leona certainly didn’t miss his opening as he glanced over at Vil in an almost smug manner that had Vil shooting him a look.

I glanced between the two of them, half-wanting to ask exactly what the beef between the two of them was before thinking better of it.

Because, after talking to Leona and later waking up, I’d recalled that Vil had mentioned that he and Leona ‘had an understanding.’ Just based on that and Leona’s words, I’d assumed that they’d at least had a working relationship. But considering Vil’s face when he’d come in to check up on me at home only to find Leona already here and his tone now….

Leona continued looking Vil’s way with a smug grin now curling across his face that had me bracing myself for whatever he was about to say, “Upset you’re not the only vampire who knows where they live, pretty boy? Or are you just mad that this isn’t your turf anymore?”

Vil’s eyes narrowed slightly before he looked back my way, apparently refusing to dignify Leona’s jab with a response. And I sighed at his stare before I obediently gestured to where Leona sat, “He brought me home after the fight because I’d gotten hurt. I apparently fell asleep on him and-”

“Jack and Ruggie wouldn’t get off my back about coming and checking on you,” Leona cut in with a look shot my way before he looked back over at Vil with an almost amused glance.

Vil met his gaze with an unimpressed mask, “I’m surprised….” He started, and a smirk began to curl across his face, “To think you can’t even keep one person from getting hurt despite how much you play at being the tough guy.”

There was a twitch to Leona’s left eye and I found myself leaning forward hurriedly before he could fire back with some sort of retort, “Well, the second vampire was a surprise attack. We hadn’t even known she was anywhere nearby.”

Both men looked my way, and I found myself sitting back and finishing in a soft tone that was at odds with my previously rushed words as I laced my fingers together, “...It really wasn’t his fault.”

Vil sighed, and now Leona crossed his arms as he eyed me, “When are you gonna be better, Herbivore?”

Vil glanced his way with an odd look that went wholly ignored by Leona as I met his stare with a half-shrug, “I can probably come by tomorrow?”

I glanced questioningly between the two men, who both nodded. Apparently agreeing to my approximation as Leona stood, “Good. You can deal with whoever comes by tomorrow then. I’ve already had to cover for your backside once.”

My eyes widened at his words and I found myself hurriedly standing and following him over to the window, “One of Crowley’s men came by for a report? Which one? What did you tell them?”

Leona looked back at me over his shoulder with an almost put-upon sigh, “I told them you were busy and that I didn’t know when you’d be back. And it was the one with the beard that smells like body spray.”

The last comment was said with a special amount of disgust that had me frowning in confusion. At the very least, it wasn’t Crewel or Sam…..

“I’ll leave you in Vil’s hands,” A grin curled across his face as he looked towards Vil, who was now also standing with his arms crossed before he used one hand and made what I could only describe as shooing motion towards the other vampire.

“Yes, yes. Go on. I’ll talk to you about all of this later,” He sounded almost impatient, and my eyebrows rose at his words as Leona snorted.

“Tell Jack and Ruggie thanks for being worried. And thank you for bringing me home last night,” I leaned around so I could better look Leona in the eye as I spoke, only to get waved off.

But he still glanced my way briefly, his eyes meeting mine before he launched himself out the window. Landing on the pavement below in a crouch before he took off into the darkness in the direction of the Savanaclaw Clan.

I turned slowly to see Vil eyeing me. “Tater tot,” He started as soon as my gaze met his and I sighed, trailing over to the couch where he stood and before sitting on it. 

He looked down at me with a frown, but rather than any scolding or questioning, he sat down next to me, leaning over so that he could look at my face as he spoke, “How’s your shoulder?”

I smiled slightly at him before shrugging, “Not that bad, actually. I probably would’ve gone ahead and went to the Savanaclaw Clan headquarters if Leona hadn’t shown up and told me not to.”

Vil shook his head, smiling fondly, “I was surprised to see him when I got here, but I’m glad he stopped you. You don’t need to be there right now.”

I frowned at his words, recalling Leona’s statements and behavior from last night, “Do I really smell that strongly of blood or something?”

I looked at him curiously, and Vil sighed, shaking his head slightly, “Not especially, but there are traces of it, and with you being the way you are, that’s all it would take.”

I continued to hold his gaze, but when I spoke, my voice had gone far softer as I thought of the blank look on Leona’s face when he’d been staring at my blood that had smeared itself across his hand, “Is it that bad? I mean… Is it bothering you?”

Vil shook his head, a faint smile still on his face, “No, it isn’t bothering me at all. But Rook suspects I’ve grown quite accustomed to you and that it doesn’t affect me nearly as much as it might others.”

I nodded slightly, still thinking about last night, “Because you’ve spent so much time with me.”

He nodded, his own voice going soft as he answered me gently, “Yes. Because I’ve spent so much time with you.”

We sat silently after that. Almost like we were both just resting in each other’s presence as the seconds ticked by.

And then he spoke again, “And what about you? How are you doing?”

He looked my way, and I knew exactly what he meant in an instant. Was I alright after having just killed two more vampires? After all, he had been the one who’d checked up on me after my debut.

“I’m not totally adjusted yet, but…. Well, it wasn’t any easier, but I suppose I was better prepared.” I toyed idly with my hands as I spoke until one of his hands reached over and stopped my motions.

I met his gaze and found him looking at me almost sadly, “Rook has been saying ever since that night that you would be fine and that you could do this, but I can’t deny that I’ve been worried.”

He sighed slightly, looking down at our hands, “But you’ve already won over members of the Savanaclaw Clan to the point where they worry for you and care for you. I could tell how concerned Jack was, and I very nearly went to find you last night….”

I felt myself smile at his words, amused by the mental image of him with Rook having to stop both him, and probably Epel for that matter. 

I would have to thank him for that later. If Vil and Epel had shown up, that might have just worsened issues. 

At the end of the day, being the Hunter was my job, and I was going to have to get used to it for better or worse. And I probably wouldn’t always have someone with me to help me.

“I’m sorry for worrying you, but I knew you’d want to know,” Vil nodded at my words, meeting my gaze with a more genuine smile.

“Well, you were right about that,” He looked almost amused by his own behavior, and I found myself leaning over against him.

“Thanks for coming by Vil…. I think the only reason I was able to face any of this at the start of all this was your, Rook, and Epel’s support,” I exhaled as I finished, relaxing as he rubbed my arm gently, careful to avoid my injuries even though they weren’t nearly as bad as they had been.

“Of course, Tater Tot. I’m partially at fault for Crowley noticing you anyway,” Despite how good he was at disguising it, I could hear the remorse in his tone, and I leaned back, looking towards Vil with a smile.

“No, he probably would’ve noticed me sooner or later anyway. And because you were there, I had far more support to get me through it all.” I paused, smiling at him as he let out an amused-sounding huff.

“Besides, now I can help take care of you and get to the bottom of all this insanity mess,” I grinned at him as I finished, and he shook his head slightly.

“Yes, just remember to take care of yourself as well,” He titled his head, his gaze softening slightly as he paused before continuing in a less teasing tone with a fond smile. “And if it ever gets too hard, I’ll always be here.”

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