#That being said she is a character I love to hate

[hanniebaeee]

The Wedding Heist

Danceracha x fem!reader

Warnings: some threats

Genre: Best friends to lovers?, fluff, angst

Summary: Your parents are forcing you to marry a man you don't love or even begin to think of a life partner. You're being kept locked at your home, and your best friends (well, it's obviously more than friendship here) are planning a wedding heist - stealing the bride on the wedding day!

a/n: Also from a dream I had 🤭 Also I don't hate Yeonjun (or me) - just a character in the story !!

The smell of something burning filled the boys’ apartment, but Minho barely noticed as he stabbed furiously at the wok with his spatula. Two other pots boiled on the stove, one very close to spilling over.

But he didn’t seem to care. If he didn't keep moving, he was pretty sure he’d implode.

In the living room, Felix was a mess - blotchy tear-streaked cheeks, and brownie crumbs everywhere. He sat cross-legged on the sofa with a giant plate of brownies in his lap, sobbing as he shoveled the treat into his mouth.

“I j-just don’t understand!” he wailed, crumbs spraying everywhere. “Why isn’t she texting back?!”

“She obviously doesn’t have her phone, Yongbok,” Minho said, his shoulders sagged under his own misery. “Her parents must have taken it just to make sure we can’t talk to her.”

Felix’s face crumpled. He let out another sob and crammed another brownie into his mouth.

“W-We’re supposed to protect her! But we're just sitting here and letting her suffer! What if she thinks we don’t care?”

Across the room, Hyunjin was perched on the window sill, staring into the night like a lovesick Victorian poet. He hadn’t spoken in days, his brooding silence actually starting to make the atmosphere even more miserable - if that was even possible.

His hair was unkempt and dark circles shadowed his eyes - he has done nothing but mourn your absence from his life.

Minho side-eyed him while poking furiously at his chicken.

“Alright, broody. That's enough. Both of you, stop. This isn't doing us any good!” he snapped, and Hyunjin hopped off the window sill, glaring at Minho. 

“You think I’m sulking? She’s getting married - to some random asshole who doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as her - and you’re over there making soup!”

“It’s a stir-fry,” Minho deadpanned. 

“She’s probably crying herself to sleep, and you’re stir-frying?” Hyunjin hissed. “We should be doing something! Not standing around like idiots while Yeonjun gets to -”

Felix burst into fresh sobs at the name.

“Don’t say his name! Please!” He said, hiccupping through the tears. “He doesn’t deserve her. He doesn't…What if she's moved on? What if -”

Hyunjin whirled around, facing Felix, taking two steps towards him. 

“Don’t you dare.” His voice was low and he sounded so furious, Felix looked terrified. “Don’t you dare question how she feels. She loves us. She’s just… stuck. You know that.”

Minho groaned, tossing his spatula onto the counter.

“Okay, this won't do. Hyunjin, stop scaring him. And Felix, you know her better than anyone.” He said, glaring at both of them. “We’re not sitting around and crying anymore.”

“We’re going to…going to stop the wedding, then?” Hyunjin asked, his eyes moving from Minho to Felix.

Felix sat up straight, brownie crumbs falling down his sweater.

“Ok, so we find out where she’s being kept, get her out of there, and make sure her parents know they can’t control her anymore.” Minho offered, and Felix just looked at Minho and Hyunjin with wide eyes, his mouth falling open. 

“Alright, but we need to be smart about this. Her parents are probably watching her like hawks.” Hyunjin added. 

“Let's do it then.” Felix said, finally putting the plate away and brushing the crumbs off him. 

The car was parked a safe distance from your family manor. Everything was so silent, but the tension inside felt like a blaring alarm.

Hyunjin sat in the driver’s seat, staring at the security guards patrolling your front yard. Felix was watching from the back, and he already looked so discouraged, it was sad. Minho, on the other hand, looked like he was about to start breathing fire.

“This is ridiculous,” Minho spat. “What do they think she’s going to do? Tunnel out of the house with a spoon?”

“M-Maybe they think we’re going to rescue her…” Felix hiccupped, his red-rimmed eyes peeking out from under his sleeve.

Hyunjin gripped the steering wheel so hard, his knuckles turned white.

“We can’t even get close to her,” Felix choked out. “She’s right there, and we can’t do anything! What if she thinks -”

“She’s not going to think anything,” Hyunjin said softly, but there was a shadow of doubt in his voice.

He looked back at the house, the corners of his mouth tightening. Minho, however, wasn’t having any of it. He slammed his fist against the dashboard, startling both of them.

“No. No way. We’re not giving up. If we can’t get her out now, we’ll do it when it matters most.”

“What do you mean?” Felix blinked at him, sniffling. 

“The wedding. If they want to lock her up until she says ‘I do,’ fine. Let them think they’ve won. But when she’s at that venue? She’s ours.” Minho said, his jaw clenching. 

“You’re saying we crash the wedding?” Hyunjin raised an eyebrow, completely invested in this plan. 

“No,” Minho said, a devilish smirk forming on his lips. “We steal the bride. We’ll take her someplace where she can actually be happy.”

---

Back at their apartment, the boys huddled around the coffee table, a hand drawn map of the wedding venue (courtesy Hyunjin) spread out in front of them. Minho was pointing at various parts of the map with a chopstick like a general planning a siege.

“Felix,” Minho began. “Your job is the most important. You’re going to sneak into her dressing room and get her out. I hope you're good at climbing because -”

“I’ll climb whatever you need me to climb!” Felix interrupted, looking determined.

Minho gave him a half-smile.

“Well, you'd climb in through her window for now,” he said. “While you’re doing that, I’ll create a distraction to draw security away from her side of the venue. Fire alarms, and maybe some smoke bombs -”

“Smoke bombs?” Hyunjin cut in, looking suspicious. 

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to,” Minho shot back, smirking. “Anyway, while we’re at it, Hyunjin will have the car ready and waiting.”

“I can handle that.” Hyunjin said, arms crossed and leaning back. “But what about after we get her out? They’ll chase us.” 

“Let them,” Minho said. “She's an adult. She can easily make a police complaint about being kept locked in, and maybe get a restraining order or something.”

Felix bounced in his seat, as he said, “This is gonna work. I know it will! She’ll see us, and she’ll know we’re there for her.”

Hyunjin gave a small smile and said, “She’ll know.”

It was the day of your wedding, and you were sitting in the dressing room, suffocating in the layers of white silk and lace - waiting for your death sentence. The pressure in your chest grew with every passing second. This was so wrong. This whole thing was. 

You stood in front of the mirror, staring at your reflection with terror. The dress was stunning, yes. But it didn’t feel like it belonged to you. Not when you had no say in it. 

Memories of last night surfaced and you felt extremely nauseated. You'd begged Yeonjun to reconsider this insanity. You’d pleaded with him, told him how you didn't want this.

But his response had been one that you'd never forget. 

He'd sneered at you and grabbed your chin so harshly as he said, “You’ll learn to be grateful for this. I’m going to teach you your place. And when I'm done, no one's gonna want you again. Especially those losers you call your friends.”

You felt your stomach churn. You weren’t afraid of him - no, not really - but you couldn’t deny the power he held over you. 

The power your own parents had bestowed upon him. Because they thought it was ok for him to threaten you into submission. 

And that terrified you.

More than anything, the thought that you'd never see Felix, Minho or Hyunjin ever again - that crushed you. There wasn't a night that you didn't cry over how much you missed them. They meant the world to you.

You walked towards the giant window, gazing out while considering climbing out. You wondered if that was actually feasible when suddenly, a face appeared just in front of you.

A very familiar, and very attractive, face.

“Felix?” you gasped, your heart leaping into your throat as you quickly grabbed his arm helping him through the open window.

He was dressed in a white suit that made him look like the literal definition of an angel sent to save you. His eyes were wide, and he looked like he was ready to weep.

“Oh my god, baby…” Felix whispered, and you barely had time to process this before he was pulling you into an hug.

The sob that escaped you was strangled and pained. You wrapped your arms around him, clutching him like he would disappear any minute.

You weren't even sure if you were hallucinating from hunger and exhaustion or if he was actually here. What helped was his scent - he smelled like vanilla and something spicy. And more than anything, he felt like home.

“Oh my god, Lixie, what are you doing here?” you asked breathlessly, tears streaming down your face.

“I’m here to take you home, of course,” he said softly, cupping your cheeks and brushing his lips against your forehead before moving to kiss you full on the lips - deep and slow. This was your first time kissing him, honestly, it sent shivers down your spine. You could feel his heart racing against yours, and his hands slipped down to your waist, holding you tight against him.

Felix was here. And he was taking you away.

He pulled back, his eyes taking in your wedding dress and a soft smile grazed his face as he said, “You’re so beautiful,”

You could see the lust burning in his eyes, a hunger that he was trying so hard to suppress. But there was no time to indulge in it now.

“Come on,” Felix whispered, taking your hand gently and guiding you toward the door. When he opened it, you gasped loudly, because you saw Minho stalking towards you and Felix with a smug grin on his face. 

“Minho!” you said, as your heart pounding in your chest. He was so damn sexy in his suit, his expression a perfect mix of arrogance and affection.

He didn’t even give you a chance to react before he was pulling you into his arms, wrapping his arms tightly around you.

“You're not getting married today, sweetheart,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear.

You blinked at him as you tried to take this all in. You were sure your life was over till about five minutes ago. You were scared to even hope, because at this moment, you had a lot of it flowing through you. 

You glanced around, looking for Hyunjin. But you don't have time to ask where he was, because at the exact moment a shrill sound fills the area.

A fire alarm. The wail echoed down the hall, and you could hear a soft hiss of smoke drifting from somewhere in the building. There were people running towards the source of the sound and the smoke filling the area.

“Minho…” you said, your voice almost incredulous, “Did you set off the fire alarm?”

“Would you prefer I hadn’t?” Minho teased, and Felix chuckled softly behind you.

You didn’t have time to process what was happening before Minho was pulling you in for a kiss of his own. And the look he gave you promised you something safe and beautiful you couldn't have dared to dream of until a few minutes ago. 

“We're taking you away from all this,” Minho said, breaking the kiss. “You belong with us.”

As if on cue, you heard the door swing open from the other side, and Yeonjun’s voice cut through the air like a knife.

“What the hell is going on?!” he bellowed, his face twisting in rage. “Where is Y/N?!”

The three of you ran. It was an absolute pain to run in that damn dress (which you thought was why Yeonjun wanted you to wear it in the first place - so you can't run away from him). And those heels - you kicked them off and Felix quickly lifts the front part of your dress a bit so you weren't tripping on it. 

And you ran.

Minho pushed open the door and you could hear Yeonjun’s loud voice even through the fire alarm. And the three of you raced down the steps, and there. 

Leaning against a sleek black car was Hyunjin.

Your heart skipped a beat. He looked even more stunning than usual in his suit. But it wasn’t just his looks that made you shiver - no. 

It was the way he stepped forward, grabbing you by the hand and pulling you into his chest. And again, he stole your breath away (like he always did) by kissing you. 

Hyunjin kissed you right in front of Yeonjun, and the kiss was rough and desperate, like he’d been waiting for this moment forever.

Yeonjun stood frozen for a moment, as the wedding guests and your family surrounded him. Obviously, there wasn't much he could do anymore. His perfect reputation was at risk here.

Hyunjin pulled back, his hand still gripping your waist as he gave Yeonjun a cold glare. And then taking your hand in his, he slipped your engagement ring off your finger, and tossed it towards Yeonjun, who looked like a volcano ready to explode. 

“Not today, you loser,” Hyunjin said with a smirk, watching as the ring tumbled through the air and landed at Yeonjun’s feet with a soft clink. “Not my girl.”

You were frozen, your heart racing as Minho and Felix joined you and Hyunjin, keeping you well shielded from your parents’ glare. But no one said anything.

Not a word.

Felix squeezed your hand, and Minho patted your shoulder as he watched you gaze at your parents who didn't look apologetic at all. Hyunjin pressed a soft kiss on your temple before leading you toward the car. 

And as Hyunjin opened the car door and grinned at you, you knew. It wasn’t just the end of a wedding - it was the beginning of your life, your new life, with your three beautiful boys. It was complicated, yes. But one thing you knew for sure was that they'd never let you shed a tear again.

And hell, you couldn't wait for whatever this was because you were finally with your boys. 

Divider - @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @eastjonowhere @pixie-felix @sailor--sun @satosugu4l

[agnireed]

Rainfall

summary 🏹 you've convinced yourself daryl hates you and that only increases when you have to go on a run together

word count 🏹 9.8k

warnings 🏹 large age gap, daryl and reader are embarrassingly bad at feelings, slow burn, slightly ooc side characters (maggie and beth)

thank you to @sparklytyphoondaze for the suggested prompt!

You had almost started to think you were going crazy right alongside the state of the world. 

There wasn’t any other person, before or after that fall, that could bring you to the level of confusion and anger that Daryl Dixon managed to without fail every time you were forced to speak to each other. It was made even worse by the fact you had no idea what about you got him so upset.

You contributed to the group whenever you were needed and then some, you had never once insulted him or even sent a mean look his way unprompted and there was certainly no stand out event that had seared this bitterness into his mind. 

It seemed like he just hated you for no reason at all and this drove you insane in a way that you wish it didn’t. You didn’t necessarily fall under the belief that everybody had to like you but it really rubbed you the wrong way that somebody had decided they didn’t just because of the way you were.

At first you had figured it had to do with your young age but he didn’t sneer at Beth the same way he did with you and nobody else seemed to agree with your assumption whenever you pried them for any known information. 

You certainly had too much time on your hands these days at the prison because you had gone full blown investigator mode to try and figure out what you had been doing so wrong.

Maybe you reminded him of somebody from his past that he had a hard time with or possibly he found annoyance in the fact you managed to carry your love for all things pink and cute over into the apocalypse with you. You felt ridiculous for actually taking this to heart and you frowned at yourself in the mirror when you pulled a particularly beige tank top over your head instead of your typical blush colored ones. 

Daryl wasn’t going out of his way to be mean to you or specifically targeting you when he didn’t have to but a slightly annoyed glance from the man was enough to rattle you for the rest of the day, for reasons you didn’t really understand.

You prided yourself on being pretty tough and there was a lot you could handle before you even felt a twinge of upset but not when it came to the stoney archer. 

He was easy enough to ignore but that was full blown impossible whenever it came to Rick allowing you to do anything the other group members did. He would scoff angrily under his breath and storm off when you were assigned to go on a run and you’d see them having heated discussions whenever you were put on gate duty for long shifts. 

It was clear to you that he didn’t find you capable of helping out and although he never outwardly said it you knew that he felt uneasy trusting the lives of the others in your hands, marking you as a liability even though you’d never so much as tripped on a run let alone endangered people you considered family. 

“Am I really that bad?” You would have felt ridiculous for being so whiny but you knew Beth and Maggie were used to you coming into a cell with this exact tone by now. You had seen the look they shared when you flopped down onto the bed with a groan and now your eyebrows furrowed as you sat back up to face them. “What was that look?”

The younger of the sisters fell silent and she looked almost like she was holding in a laugh as she watched the side of Maggie’s face and waited for her to say whatever it was they were silently communicating. 

“Nothing honey it’s just…” Her familiar light twang was doing very little to soothe your worry and annoyance and you leaned in closer as she took a second to pause and stifle a building laugh. “Are you wearing brown?”

You froze as you processed her words before glancing down at the shirt you had thrown on today and groaning at the same time Beth was finally letting out an actual laugh. The sight of you in anything this shade was certainly unfamiliar and clearly a big enough deal that it was all they could focus on right now, ignoring your question you had originally asked in favor of making fun of you. 

“I don’t think his issue with you is you being girly.” Beth had a voice that couldn’t sound anything but sweet even if she tried so you took her statement as genuine reassurance even if she was still attempting to tease you. 

The pair had long been subjected to your ramblings about the older man and every little biting remark or disinterested stare he sent your way and they were just as stumped as you. Although they provided no solution for your issue it was still comforting to know you weren’t making it up and other people had noticed his distaste for you.

You sulked back to your own cell only an hour or two after joining the sisters and listening to them ramble about their own problems and thoughts, commonly occurring sessions where you could all get some things off your chest. It was a nice dynamic and you often felt touched by how easily they had brought you into the fold of their sisterly bond. 

Everybody in the group felt the same to you, love and trust apparent between each of you and then all together as a whole. There is nothing you wouldn’t do for the people inside these walls and you felt no doubt in them doing whatever it would take for you in return if and when you needed it. 

There was only one exception to this feeling and you were growing more and more frustrated by his refusal to bond with you, even if it was surface level.

You didn’t think Daryl would leave you without water if you were dying of thirst but you figured if it was in a high tree he might just tell you it wasn’t worth the effort.

Your theory was most likely going to be tested in some shape because Rick was approaching you the next day to tell you in the most stern voice he could muster that you would be going on a run. You could tell from the look in his eye that he was telling you this way because a certain somebody would be tagging along but you expected that it was just going to be the two of you on your own.

“Ain’t happening.” Daryl seemed just as dejected as you did at the news but Rick had apparently given him alot less time to be upset about it considering the words flying from his mouth when he saw you and your leader approaching him on his bike, already loaded up and at the gate ready to go. 

You sighed at the realization you were a surprise guest, annoyance in your gut knowing this would only further his hatred towards you.

“Who would you prefer?” Rick was spitting back at him in a half whisper like it would save you from being able to hear. You were even more hurt at the way he phrased it, clearly letting you in on the fact they had had this conversation before. “The cars can’t get through, not on that route.”

“I can ride a bike.” You weren’t sure why you had tried to help out with the slightly useless piece of information, knowing neither of them would ever let you go by yourself on a run let alone with Daryl’s bike. If either of them seemed surprised by the fact then they didn’t show it but his sneer turned to you faster than you could retract your suggestion. 

“Like hell you will.” He said it so harshly that you were almost taken back by it. He was never kind to you but it certainly hadn’t gotten to this point in quite some time and your eyes flashed with surprise as you took a few steps backwards so you were further behind Rick.

He watched you for a breath or two after that and you almost thought you saw regret passing over his face even though it was gone as quickly as it came once he faced Rick again. You were pushing yourself further back with another sigh so they could quickly have their biting conversation and get it over with. 

You’d already done the checklist in your head and realized there truly was nobody else who could both be on the back of his bike and also perform well in a run and it was only a matter of time before he understood that too. He was an asshole but he wasn’t unreasonable and you knew he wouldn’t completely abandon a run just because he didn’t want you coming along.

Your theory proved correct because soon enough you were settling yourself on the seat behind him and smiling tightly at Rick when he placed a hand on your arm, silently wishing you good luck with a firm nod.

You did your best to ignore his grumbles for you to hold on and luckily you had grown up on a bike and weren’t saying that for no reason so it was easy enough to sit still and not disturb him. There was a deeper bratty part of you that wanted to softly rock side to side just enough to get his attention and annoy him but you decided against it.

If he was going to dislike you then you wanted it to be a complete reflection of his poor character and nothing to do with you.

He was surprisingly docile for most of the long ride and even let you take a break on the side of the road midway through so you could both stretch your legs and avoid cramping up by the time you got there and actually had to be on high alert. 

“It’s a nice bike.” You felt stupid for speaking as soon as you heard the sound of your own voice and saw his head snapping up to look at you.

He was crouching down near it like he was investigating an issue but you knew he was just pretending to be busy to avoid the awkward silence or having to talk to you, two things that were currently happening thanks to your lack of impulse control.

“Sorry.” You were sighing and awkwardly looking away from him, taking a few steps closer to the tree line because how uneasy his strong gaze was making you feel. A rush of embarrassment overtook you and you strangely felt like you were going to tear up for some reason, pushing some loose rocks with your foot and glancing down the road. 

“S’all good.” He was finally responding and your eyes widened in surprise, glad to see he had looked away again just in time and didn’t see your reaction. “Was my brothers.”

“I remember.” Your voice was soft because you had actually known where the bike came from just from hearing him mention it a handful of times and you also knew enough to know why he tensed at the reminder that you had actually met his brother.

Daryl hadn’t been as docile then in his anger both towards you and everybody else and it felt like you got left behind with Merle on that rooftop when he decided to let down some of his walls and start trusting people. You weren’t a part of that equation which confused you even more now that you started to recall the earliest days of your meeting.

You had been pretty much the sole target of Merle’s disgusting rants about the women in the camp, making comments in passing about the others but really locking in on you whenever you were in his line of sight. He switched between degrading you and your ability to keep up with him and the men with you to just as quickly cat calling you and encouraging you to join him in camp.

There was a quickly built resentment towards him and his brother but the latter faded when you would catch Daryl defending you when he assumed you were out of earshot, at least the best he could without enraging his brother. 

He would tell him to leave you alone when he noticed his brother's hazy eyes zoning in on you like he wanted to approach or make a quick comment about how you were too young for him to be perving on you. All mild attempts to derail Merle’s small attention span but you appreciated the effort considering it was much more than the other men around camp would do and they didn’t have a reason to be cautious of the wild man like Daryl did.

That had all changed when Rick showed up and you felt a surge of hope as soon as you heard him addressing the group for the first time, solid and sturdy in his words even when he was allowing Shane to still bark the orders and have control.

You knew from the first day that you finally had somebody to take lead over your dire situation and you knew men like Merle Dixon would never bother you again.

No part of you thought Daryl was similar to his brother in any way but you still felt the same hurt regardless if it was intentional from his end. 

“C’mon.” He wasn’t giving you a response to what you had said and you were glad he hadn’t, much preferring the loud hum of the bike to help quiet your endless thoughts. 

This time he didn’t completely tense up when you were circling your hands around his waist and you were weirdly finding some comfort knowing he was with you when you thought back on those days at the quarry. Was there a different world where Daryl didn’t dislike you and kept up the protective streak he’d shown back then or was that sincerely a complete one off?

You wondered if it would be weird to ask him directly about what you had done to upset him, both bringing it to reality for the first time and also exposing yourself for caring way more than you should about what he thought.

It might have been an age thing that led you to not only not wanting to disappoint him but you found yourself actively wanting to impress him and catch his attention. Even an interested gaze rather than an annoyed one would probably make your day at this point and you found yourself ridiculous for the tenth time since you left the prison just a few hours ago.

There was the same urge in you when it came to Rick and Hershel, even Glenn occasionally although you looked towards him more as a brother while the latter two reminded you of that fatherly connection you’d always seeked out.

You felt warmed whenever Hershel checked in on you and softly told you to take better care of your health and you’d do just about anything Rick asked of you as long as it meant he was proud of you and felt you were a good addition to the group.

Your nose scrunched up at the thought of thinking towards Daryl in any type of fatherly way and you quickly scratched that idea off your endless boards of guesses.

Luckily he was pulling to a stop before you could jot down anything else in your mental notebook and you glanced around your surroundings for just a second before you were bracing your hands on his shoulders and swinging your leg over his bike, landing flat on your feet with a little groan.

The muscles in your thighs were tight from the stretch and constant tensing to brace yourself around turns and debris in the road and you imagine he was feeling a similar pain judging by the face he made when he roughly kicked the stand down to steady the bike.

You silently watched him as he covered it in light shrubbery, opting to stay out of his way and let him do whatever it was he felt like he needed. It was always simpler to wait for him to tell you what to do instead of doing it on your own and dealing with him getting angry and correcting you. 

He whistled lowly and started to walk away from you and you took the wordless cue easily, following behind with a hand on your knife holster and your eyes sharp to your surroundings. 

There was no amount of huffing and puffing from him that would make you think you were a liability out in nature. You didn’t have as quick of reflexes as he did and there was no way you’d ever catch up in terms of survival skills but you were good at handling yourself and extremely light on your feet.

Luckily there was a lack of complaints from him today as the two of you approached the small strip mall quietly and fast, half crouched in a way that made your knees ache as you followed behind him. 

He stopped too abruptly behind an abandoned car for you to notice and you bumped into his back, immediteyly reaching out in an attempt to steady him and he turned his head to glare at you over his shoulder. The walker growls in the distant stopped you from verbally apologizing but you hoped he could see it in your eyes.

That must have annoyed him enough that he decided you shouldn’t be behind him and out of sight, shaking your hands off of him before taking a few low steps back and nudging you forward.

You sighed at his clear lack of forgiveness but focused on the task at hand and made sure the area was clear before moving forward and finally reaching the buildings. You could see one of the windows were busted as you pushed yourself against the wall and you glanced at him once he reached you.

He was as close to you as he ever probably had been and you took a few seconds to watch the way his built chest was rising and falling with heavy breaths, shoulders pressed to yours and face blank as he glanced at you.

“Walkers.” You more mouthed the words than actually spoke and his gaze dropped to your lips.

You felt incredibly stupid and thrown off when you felt a heat rising to your cheeks at the action. You knew he was simply trying to read you lips and not looking at you for any other reason but your brain apparently decided today that you enjoyed the idea of him looking at you like that. 

It was probably the worst possible moment to be hit with the fact that you wanted him to think about you in that way, your entire body freezing up when you pieced together why exactly you yearned for his approval. It certainly wasnt fatherly at all because you apparently had a crush on Daryl Dixon.

“What the hell are you doing?” His raspy voice hissing at you defiantelty wasnt helping you in your moment of understanding but your eyes widened realizing he had been trying to tell you something while you were frozen. “C’mon girl, move.”

You were quick to nod your head to show him you processed the demand and then he was gone, turning the corner and pushing his way into the building. He must have had a good idea of how many walkers were inside and you werent sure if that was something he had figured out silently or if that was another piece of dialogue you had msised in your dilemma.

He didnt seem at all bothered while taking the three still up and walking around out and you watched him silently, not daring to get in the way when he was swinging his crossbow around and taking off heads. He was still breathing heavily when he turned to check on your whereabouts and this time you could see some anger beneath the exhaustion. 

The flush still on your cheeks was now being partnered with a heat in your gut and you realized just how fucked you actually were.

When had this happened and why did it take you so long to realize what this actually was? How did you manage to delude yourself into thinking it was normal that you were hanging off his every word and going over your small interactions dozens of times.

You’d even thrown on this hideously colored shirt thinking he might like it better than your normal wardrobe and you’d actually been upset when he hadn’t glanced twice at it earlier.

He was furrowing his eyebrows and you assumed he was half a second before asking you what the hell you were staring at but he didnt get a chance considering his eyes were darting over your shoulder with a look of panic that let you know exactly what he saw.

You didn’t even hear the growl of the walker behind you before you were gripping the handle of your knife and attempting to spin around but it was already too late and it was taking you to the ground so hard your head smacked against the old wood and your knife was being thrown somewhere too far for you to reach.

“Daryl.” Your voice was a high pitched screech as you desperately shot one hand out to attempt to grip anything that would allow you to kill the raging walker while your other one was pressed tightly around its shoulder to try and keep its clamping jaw away from your face.

It was so close you could hear the moisture in its mouth and feel its breath on your cheek, a whimper leaving you as you felt its hands on your body trying to find any soft bit of flesh to grip its claw into. 

The walker was falling limb ontop of you and although only a few seconds had passed since youd fallen, it felt like an hour of struggling with its strength and your entire life flashing before your eyes. You’d been in close call situations before but never something like this and you knew you would’ve been dead if Daryl hadn’t been here or even in the same room.

You were breathing heavily and shame hit you at the same time a heavy sob did, fully processing what almost just happened because you hadnt been paying attention to your surroundings. 

“Fuck.” Your voice was pained with a groan as you tried to life the waker off of you but it was large in size, possibly taller than Daryl and without a doubt heavier. It was lifted off of you as soon as you started to struggle and you were only half surprised to see his face looking down at you as he easily removed it.

For once he didn’t look cold or emotionless as he looked at you, a similar panic on his face as he crouched down beside you and scanned over your neck and face for any sign of a bite. 

You were about to reassure him that you hadn’t been bit but he was cutting you off by pushing your shirt halfway up your stomach, revealing so much bare skin that you felt almost shy even though you knew he was just checking you for scratches once he realized where the walker had its hands.

He didn’t dare touch your exposed stomach but his gaze was heated as he looked around your heaving ribs, pausing when he saw small pink marks on your waist.

“It’s okay right?” You sounded panicked as you sat up slightly to inspect it with him, your hand smoothing over the discoloration and feeling only a bit relieved when you didnt feel any signs of it being indented. “He just grabbed me tightly but he didn’t scratch.”

“Let’s go.” His voice was low and cold and he was standing halfway before gripping your forearm and tugging you up with him, starting to drag you towards the door.

You were frowning and shaking your head, looking back at your abandoned knife on the floor and placing a hand on the doorframe to stop him from pulling you. You knew he still easily could have removed you if he wanted but you both understood there was no way to get back on a motorcycle with an unwillingly particpant. 

It wasn’t as simple as throwing you in a car and shutting the door and your other hand came up to grab his wrist.

“We can’t leave.” Your voice was more pleading than argumentative, wanting him to see you were still willing and eager to follow his directions if it meant staying. “We haven’t even looked around yet. Theyre counting on us.”

“Nah. I’ll circle back tomorrow with Maggie.” He was steely in his answer and didn’t even seem to process what you were trying to tell him. He had clearly made up his mind and your eyes were desperate as you stared at him.

“I’m sorry for not paying attention.” It was your second time apologizing for something that wasn’t your fault and this seem to strike a particular nerve with him because he was fully turning towards you and letting go of your arm so he could point at you angrily. 

“You almost died, we’re leaving.” He was making a move for the door again and a wave of panic went through you, halfway thinking he might leave you there if you didn’t join him. He was leaving no room for argument and the look he gave you when you grabbed his shoulder made ice shoot through your veins.

He didn’t seem to understand why you couldn’t bare just leaving and going back to the prison empty handed. Did he not realize that there was nothing you feared more than disappointing your group members, not even a walker practically breathing down your throat could rattle you the way that could. 

His shoulders lost some of the tension when he saw the look on your face and you suddenly wanted to shout at him and ask him what his problem was, demand he tell you why he had been so endlessly cruel to you for so long. 

But now you were wondering if he actually had been or if you were simply throwing an internal fit because he didn’t give you an overt amount of attention, doubting your own reality now that you had fully accepted that you might have a stupid crush on the older man.

You had fresh tears joining your dried streaks now, cutting through the dirt on your face almost comically and he was biting the inside of his cheek like he couldn’t figure out how to comfort you right now or atleast make you stop crying.

Finally he was sighing and nodding his head so quick you almost missed it, pushing past you so he could venture further into the shop and silently let you know that you were getting what you wanted and continuing the run.

You made sure to push down any thoughts of him for the rest of the trip so you could focus on getting what you needed without endangering yourself again and you actually managed to get quite a big chunk of the stuff on the necessity list, even grabbing some extra fun things for Carl and a top you thought Beth might like. 

An hour or so had passed when Daryl made his way back to you and you could feel him watching you as you rifled through the clothing rack, not turning to face him and instead letting him approach you for once. 

“Suits you.” His light tone shocked you enough that you let go of the pink sleeve you were inspecting on the hanger. You had expected him to make a snide comment about you wasting time looking at clothes instead of finding something useful but apparently he had run out of the energy to argue with you.

“Because its childish?” You had humor in your voice with your response but it wasnt genuine, more so trying to deliver the punch line before he could. 

“Nah, just suits you.” He didn’t play into your accidental bait and you narrowed your eyes at him before sighing and pulling the pink sweater off the rack, dusting it off before dragging it over your head and the brown shirt you were wearing.

You figured you looked a bit puffy with the double layering and it was far too hot for the thick fabric but you held your hands out like you were presenting the outfit to him and although he didnt laugh, you thought you heard him lightly scoff at your display.

 

You finished stuffing your gifts for the others into your already full bag before joining him as he moved further into the large building, side by side as you followed the range of his flashlight with your eyes. 

“Why’re you wearing that shit anways?” He surpised you by still trying to make conversation and you starting to wonder if he had been the one to hit his head earlier, glancing at him just to find he was already watching you from the corner of his eye.

At first you thought he meant the sweater but you realized he meant your original outfit, heat once again rising to your cheeks when you pieced together that he had actually noticed your change in color scheme. 

You weren’t exactly sure how to explain that you had done it to appear more mature for him without making a complete fool of yourself so you opted for shrugging your shoulders and remaining silent, letting him figure it out for himself like you so often had to.

“Someone say something to you?” He paused in his stride and you turned back to look at him in confusion, furthering when you saw the twitch in his jaw and that same cold look in his eyes. This time it didn’t seem directed at you but that didn’t help you figure out the situation in the slightest. 

“Like what?” Your voice was still soft and almost a whisper, like you were guiding to him towards actually giving you an answer to something for once. Your head slightly titled and the movement made him take another step back for some reason, almost like he was afraid of you. “Like how I dress like a toddler? Or maybe something about being a walking signal for walkers?”

It almost took him a few seconds into your sentences to realize you were repeating back to him things he had said before, quick comments made in fits of anger that he clearly hadn’t thought you’d take to heart let alone remember word for word. You scoffed at his taken back reaction and nodded your head bitterly, tightening your grip on your backpack strap and moving towards the exit.

If he was bothered by you leaving him behind in the dark building then he didn’t show it on his face but you felt regret for doing it as soon as you were outside by yourself, standing next to his bike impatiently and waiting for him to join you. 

Thunder cracked in the distance as soon as his foot hit the dirt and both of you paused to look at eachother, dread growing in you knowing what he was thinking before he even had to say it.

You were groaning loudly and lugging your stuff back inside, bumping his shoulder on your way in. You both knew you wouldn’t be able to ride home that long with a storm coming so you had no choice but to spend the night in the same building you had nearly died in a few hours prior with a man who wanted nothing to do with you.

He was outside for atleast thirty minutes and you figured he was hiding his bike somewhere more secure or possibly checking the perimeter now that you were going to be letting your guards down a bit to get some rest.

You could hear rain drops hitting the windows before he came back inside and although they were light, you knew he must be getting damp out there. You sighed as you made your way to the clothing racks to find him something to dry to wear, telling yourself you were only doing the kind gesture because you were restless.

“Y/N?” His voice was loud and panicked when he closed the door behind him, not seeing you anywhere near the entrance and finding your bag left behind on the floor. “Damn it.”

Your eyes rolled when he initally called your name and you almost planned to ignore him but you still couldn’t find it in yourself to be unnecessarily rude so you gathered the clothes and headed back towards the front.

His body relaxed slightly when he saw you coming out of the dark but he froze again when his gaze dropped down to the fabric in your hands, watching you as you got so close your boots touched before you were pushing it against his wet chest and raising an eyebrow.

“You’ll catch a cold playing in the rain like that.” You let your tone be slightly mocking but it was lighthearted enough that he wouldn’t bother taking offense at you making fun of him for staying outside. He mumbled a thank you but didn’t stop staring down at you.

You wondered if he was slightly flattered by you doing such a domestic act for him or if he didn’t care at all, deciding on the former so you could let yourself have atleast one small win after such a rough day. You cleared your throat before turning around and allowing him some privacy while changing. 

Picking up on him moving a few more feet away, you entire body was still flushing when you heard the telltale signs of him changing clothes. 

There was a large part of you that tried to squeeze your eyes closed and think of something totally unrelated but the smaller portion won by a landslide and you let yourself think about what he might look like without clothes on. 

You were no stranger to the sight of his arms, large and rippling with muscle everytime he drew his crossbow or swung his knife. You knew he was older and more mature than boys you had been with before the fall, most likely with hair trailing down his stomach where they had been smooth and rounder around the sections of his ribs.

Your fidgeting was extremely apparent to anybody in the room and you were unlucky enough that it was just the two of you.

In no time Daryl was mumbling that you were good to turn around and moving to start a small enough fire that it wouldn’t reach the high ceiling and could be ventilated through the broken windows. You ignored the sight of his messy and damp hair falling into his eyes and especially forgot about how much your chest heaved at the way he looked in the clothes you’d picked for him.

It wasn’t much different from what he would usually wear, you had made sure of that so he wouldn’t reject your gesture but you simply found it notable that it was something you had picked for him. 

A few more hours were passing of you sitting in silence and listening to the rain outside for any sign of it stopping, grateful when he finally sighed and pulled out the little food you had packed, seemingly accepting your fate of staying overnight. 

The sun had long set by the time he was clearing his throat like he was going to finally say something and your eyes met his across the fire, holding the gaze tightly so he didn’t change his mind.

“Sorry about before.” He shocked you even more with the words coming from his mouth and your eyebrows raised, your arms wrapped around your knees where you’d been resting your head before he spoke. 

You weren’t sure what exactly he was trying to apologize for, the list of possible offenses longer than you think he even realized. You imagined it was between trying to make you abandon the run and you bringing up what he had said about the way you dressed, maybe a mix of both so he could kill two awkward birds with one big hesitant stone like apology. 

“It’s all good.” You were shrugging and you wondered if he at all cared that you had lost your usual friendly tone in favor of mimicking his cold and emotionless one. “Kinda my fault anyways, always trying to get your attention.”

You don’t know why you said it and you were even more confused why you didn’t immediately want to take it back. Maybe saying it out loud could make you feel better but you imagined you’d be wishing you saved it for a kinder audience like Maggie and Beth whenever he responded to you. 

Braving a look in his direction, you softly laughed seeing the confusion on his face. He almost looked a bit hurt and guarded like he thought you might be making fun of him which you didn’t fully understand why he would go to that conclusion.

“You don’t have to pretend you didn’t notice Daryl.” You were smiling softly now and although you were mostly baiting him, the pink on your cheeks was still very much real.

Truthfully, you hadn’t assumed that he had caught onto your crush on him because you barely had until now and Daryl didn’t seem to be the type of man that went around guessing when people liked him. 

Infact he seemed the most thrown off guard you’d ever seen him when he realized what you were trying to say and the red on his cheeks was almost enough to rival yours. You coughed just to fill the silence when you accepted he wasn’t planning to respond to you and you tried to ignore the deafening sounds of his shifting in place. 

The two of you stayed silent until the fire started to die out and by then you were laying on your back, staring up on the ceiling and bringing you could feel to rain falling down on you. It was heavy by now and you figured the storm was directly above you at this point, almost thankful for the thunder and lightning as it masked the sounds of Daryl’s light breathing.

He was laying down too and despite him being on the other side of the fire, it still managed to feel strangely intimate. 

It was likely that he was closer lying in the cell next to yours on the nights he decided it was better than the perch but now there was no stone wall between you and you could see the outline of his face whenever you turned your head to see if he had fallen asleep yet. 

The darkness was making it hard to see from that distance but the light of the fire was just visible enough for you to catch the fact he was glancing over at you too and you quickly looked away. You were firm in your stare at the ceiling now and you hoped the feeling of his eyes on you still was just your imagination. 

“I like the pink.” His voice was breaking through the silence but not loud enough to be completely jarring, low and whispered like he didn’t want to disturb you with the confession. Maybe he didn’t want you to hear him at all. “Meant it, it suits you.”

“You don’t think I look ridiculous?” You were teasing him now and it was obvious, your voice light and gentle again. 

“Nah, never did. Just an asshole.” His flat voice made you snort a laugh and you could have sworn you heard him chuckling in return. You stayed quiet for a bit longer and tried to find a way to not place meaning behind what he was telling you. 

It could be as simple as him not wanting any bad blood between the two of you considering you had to live together for most likely the rest of your lives, regardless if that was days or years. Or maybe he had felt bad about hurting your feelings because Daryl certainly wasn’t cruel for no reason and you knew he had a better heart than most, even if it took seeing you reduced to tears to finally apologize.

“I almost died today.” Your voice was still soft but for different reasons now and you turned to look at him again, wincing when you noticed he’d gone rigid. He was resting his head on one of his arms and the other was palm down on his stomach, moving lightly with every breath he took. “After all this time I think I forgot that I could. Maybe it’s good to get a reminder.”

He didn’t say anything for a while again and you almost wanted to sigh even though you just knew it was in his nature to not speak much. You actually liked that about him on any other day, he was easy to read when he wanted to be and he wore his emotions on his sleeve if you paid enough attention which apparently you did. 

“Not gonna let that happen.” Sometimes he said things that made you wish he wouldn’t speak because you werent sure how you were supposed to take him saying something like that. You had practically spelled out the fact you liked him a few hours ago and now he was declaring to personally keep you alive. 

“You cant know that.” You had decided to sit up before you finished speaking, wanting to feel more in control of the conversation even if it meant being able to see him more clearly now that you could easily see him over the fire. 

“Be alot easier if you stayed at the damn prison.” He sounded annoyed again but you could tell it wasn’t actually directed at you in a meaningful way. 

“Is that why you keep telling Rick I shouldn’t go on runs?” You hadnt even realized you came to that conclusion until you were asking it and you suddenly felt very stupid for thinking that he had been doubting your survival skills all this time. Although it wasnt solely your fault because you wouldve agreed alot easier to stay back if you knew he was simply worried about you. “Why didnt you tell me that?”

He scoffed like your question was ridiculous and now it was your turn to be annoyed with him. You were standing from your spot on the floor and moving over to him, sitting beside where he was still laying flat. This was probably the closest youd ever been to him intentionally not to mention this most likely being your longest conversation to date but he was finally giving you some answers now. 

“Wouldn’t matter anyways now would it. Too damn stubborn.” He sounded completely bored by your conversation and your mouth dropped at him vaguely confirming that he had been trying to keep you back to protect you. 

“I thought you hated me.” You practically squeaked it out and suddenly he seemed alot more alert, turning his head to look at you fully and clearly trying not to pay attention to how close you were sitting. 

You were on your knees next to him and your hands slapped down onto your thighs dramatically with an almost manic laugh as your entire point of view shifted. 

“Why would I hate you?” He asked it like the thought genuinely hadnt crossed his mind and you could have screamed in frustration. 

“Then why-” You thought of all of his heated glances and the way he avoided touch from you specifically, teasing remarks about the smallest details of how you dressed and now the added fact that he hadn’t wanted you to face the dangers of going on runs especially ones he wasn’t going on. “Oh my god, you have a crush on me.”

You should have felt ridiculous for the way you were practically gleaming with realization as you pointed at him like you had cracked open a decade long cold case. He raised an eyebrow at you and your theatrics before he was scoffing and looking back up at the roof like the conversation wasn’t making his heart race. 

“Ain’t got a crush.” He felt almost shy saying the word and thankfully you were close enough to see the way his flush had returned tenfold and the fidgeting of his hands against the vest he’d thrown back over the shirt you picked for him.

“But you like me?” You were overdoing it now but you felt almost drunk with giddiness now that you knew he hadn’t been icing you out all along. Daryl was simply just shy and clearly terrible at showcasing when he had feelings for somebody but you almost couldn’t blame him considering you’d nearly died seconds after realizing it for yourself. “You think I’m totally cute.”

Now you were really pushing it and he brought his gaze back to you just to make sure you could see the exasperation in his expression although now you were so high on the accidental confession you were tricking yourself into thinking he looked fondly amused.

“I’ve spent all this time thinking you hated me, why didn’t you just-” You were just starting to question his lack of forwardness but you silently answered it for yourself before you even finished. “Oh.”

You’d somehow manage to forget that there was easily twenty years between you and Daryl, if not more than that (you didn’t think now was a good time to ask him exactly how old he was). He looked almost sheepish now that you seemed to recall this obvious fact and you could tell he had thought about it alot more than you had.

A quietness took over the room again and you halfway noted that it sounded like the rain had finally started to slow to a stop. You were shifting in place and adjusting yourself in a way that you could more comfortably lean forward to practically force him to look at you.

“I don’t think it matters.” You were whispering now like somebody was going to overhear you and now his glare actually had some real heat behind it.

“Like hell it don’t.” He sounded frustrated that you were even talking about it let alone attempting to pretend it wasn’t an issue.

Now you were truly curious how long he had been thinking about this and it suddenly made alot more sense to you why he constantly seemed to be avoiding you. Not out of anger towards you but possibly towards the fact there was no world in which he could be with you in that way.

“I wouldn’t tell anybody.” You immediately regretting saying it as soon as you saw the way he froze up, the words being whispered into the air painting a much different tone than you had originally intended. 

It made it sound like it was some dirty secret you would need to keep due to how wrong it was but you had meant it genuinely, wanting him to know you’d be okay with taking your time letting the others know until it was something even worth noting. 

Now you truly felt like you’d gone crazy because what were you even talking about here? Did he have real feelings for you or was it just basic lust for a younger girl wandering around in pink tanktops, did it even matter regardless considering how disgusted he seemed now?

He was sitting up with a grunt and rising to his feet, giving you one last glare before he was storming outside with a mumble about needing a smoke. You stayed there on the floor staring at where his body had just been and a wave of shame washed over you.

You tried to calm yourself by thinking that you could fix it once he came back inside and relaxed a little, giving you a second to explain what you meant and what you had been thinking. You didn’t want him to see you as some stupid little girl that couldn’t keep her mouth shut. 

Daryl took this plan and crushed it considering he didn’t ever come back in and you laid there staring at the body of the walker who had almost killed you earlier, watching it until you managed to fade off into a nearly restless sleep while he sat outside and counted down the minutes until you could leave.

----

The next morning couldn’t have been more awkward if you tried.

You’d practically thrown yourself outside when you had waken up and didn’t see him still, stumbling onto the dirt with your eyes wide with panic. You looked towards the bush where his bike had been and felt your throat tighten at the realization he had actually left you there.

Then you heard shuffling behind you and whipped around to see him watching you from the treeline, half concerned and half blank like he couldn’t decide which side of him to show you now. 

Your half awake brain slowly remembered that he had moved his bike before the storm last night and you could tell by the line of something furry over his shoulder that he had been out hunting before you started to head home. 

You could guess by where the sun sat in the sky that he had actually let you sleep in a bit and suddenly you were itching to get back to the prison, hand to your forehead as you made your way back in silently to gather your stuff and head back out. 

You felt embarrassed that he had seen you so distressed over the thought of being left alone but you figured you were way past the point of return with the amount of humiliating things that had happened in the last 24 hours so it didn’t really matter. 

There was no overestimating how bad it felt to climb onto the back of his bike and wrap your arms around him for endless hours while also knowing he most likely wanted to be as far away from you as possible right now.

The sight of the prison would normally leave a slight distaste in your mouth but right now it was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen and it only got better when you saw a familiar head of blonde hair near the gates, clearly hearing the sounds of the bike and waiting for your arrival.

You felt a rush of emotion seeing your friend and you were rushing off the bike before he even had time to steady himself, meeting her halfway in a hug and trying to ignore how weird your reaction seemed to anybody else. You had only been gone a night but it felt like an entire year had passed in that building. 

She was quick to make small talk as you headed in together and you were grateful for the distraction, glancing behind your shoulder back at him only to look away quickly when you found him already looking. 

It wasn’t until you were hidden behind the walls of your cell that you let the frown take over your expression and Beth faltered in her ramblings, watching your shoulders slump as you threw your bag carelessly in the corner. 

“Oh honey. I know that expression.” You hadn’t even realized Maggie was standing in the entryway of your cell until you heard her warm voice full of concern and pity. Beth sent her a curious glance and she sighed softly. “She’s heartbroken.”

“You told him?” Beth gasped the words loudly and both you and Maggie rushed to shush her, your hands covering her mouth while her sister moved fully into the cell like the sheet covering the doorway behind her would at all mask the sound of your gossip.

“You knew?” You were already frustrated and it was obvious in your tone, looking between the two of them with an accusatory glare that they matched with confusion. “You both knew this entire time?”

“You didn’t?” Maggie seemed genuinely perplexed by what you were saying and you suddenly were hit with how crazy you must have sounded.

You had spend the better part of the last few months ranting to them about every little interaction with the man and it was apparently clear to everybody but yourself and Daryl that you had feelings for him. 

There was a brief silence before you were delving into what had happened and doing your best to not leave out any details so you could get their opinions and advice on where to go from here. Beth cringed when you got to the part about not telling anybody and Maggie rolled her eyes when you mentioned Daryl had slept outside to avoid having to talk to you again.

“Is it really that bad?” Beth seemed almost bashful to ask the question and you both knew what she was talking about. 

You weren’t really sure how to answer her because although young, you were still very much an adult and capable of making your own decisions but you also wouldn’t be able to fully blame somebody who found you and Daryl together to be distasteful. Beth was still a few years younger than you and you had a hard time picturing her with anybody that age when she was closer to you and Maggie’s maturity.

“You’re a grown woman Y/N.” Maggie seemed to have come to a similar conclusion as you had or maybe she just wanted to encourage her friend towards something she knew would make her happy. “Least he could do is talk to you.”

That seemed to light a new found fire in you and after a few more words of encouragement you were storming off to go and find Daryl.

It took a fair bit of time to track him down but eventually you were led back to the maintenance room in the newly cleared portion of the prison, heart beating faster as you walked through the dimly lit hallways. You felt relieved when you could hear his voice coming from one of the rooms but then annoyance surge through you again.

“I’m a grown ass woman.” You were sure you looked ridiculous as you pushed through the door and looked at him angrily, pointing a finger in his direction and feeling slightly smug when you saw how caught off guard he looked for once. 

Then his eyes were trailing behind you and for a second you were reminded of the way he had looked before the walker attacked, spinning around just to see Rick and Glenn staring at you like you had grown two heads. Theyd never seen you so amped up before and the latter looked like he almost wanted to laugh. 

You were sure Maggie had filled him in to some extent about your situation with Daryl and your neck felt hot with embarrassment, something that was happening far too often for your liking.

“Sorry.” You felt sheepish as you glanced at Rick who looked half disapproving and half amused. “Can I talk to Daryl?”

Now he had something else passing over his face but you weren’t really sure what to make of it, even more confused when they locked eyes over your shoulder before Rick was raising an eyebrow and giving a slow nod. He barely looked at you as they left and you couldn’t tell if that made you feel better or worse. 

You were turning back towards the source of your anger but now all of your fight had been lost and all you could do was sigh as you looked at him.

“Can you atleast talk to me?” You found yourself simply repeating exactly what Maggie had told you and you felt prematurely defeated when you saw the closed off look in his eye.

“Ain’t nothing to talk about.” He was quick to dismiss you completely and you were thankful you were standing between him and the door because it looked like he was seconds from running away just to avoid you again. 

“There is Daryl and you know there is.” You didn’t care that you sounded desperate as you called his name and his eyes bore harder into yours when he heard it falling from your lips, only watching you as you took a few steps closer to him. “What’s so wrong about you liking me?”

He wasn’t going to say it, place a name to exactly what the problem would be because he knew you were already aware. You could tell he was growing frustrated that you kept pushing him about it especially when he clearly had done a good job at ignoring it although that included making you feel like shit.

“Liking eachother.” You changed your wording around to make sure you included yourself this time, wanting to remind him the feeling was mutual. 

You weren’t sure if it had the affect you wanted but you were taking a few more hesitant steps forward like you were approaching a wild animal, stopping when you were close enough to be able to put your hand on his chest.

It was the first time you were touching him like that without needing a real reason to and he seemed more affected than you’d seen him be yet, breath noticeably shorting as his eyes started to frantically dart around your face.

You wished so desperately you were able to read his mind and question what it was that was holding him back so much, especially when you were out of sight from everybody else and the judgement they possibly could cast onto you.

 

Apparently you weren’t subtle and the look Rick had given him earlier almost seemed like he had been as aware of your situation as Maggie was and there was no public outcry, no pulling you away and scolding you for having your hand on his chest and your eyes moving from his lips to his eyes. 

For a second it felt like the volume had been turned off in the room until he was finally moving his gaze down too and suddenly it all came rushing back, able to hear your own heartbeat mixing with his and the pace of his breathing slowing down. 

It wasn’t until he kissed you that the sound died out again, filled in by the rush in your heart and raindrops in the distance.

[oceansarepink]

Stella - Fans give HelluvaBoss far too much credit.

When starving for rep, people will eat anything. The phrase goes, “Beggars can’t be choosers”. But stop insisting mud slop is chocolate cake.

Talking about Stella with the fandom is extremely awkward. Most hate her because of headcanons and projections. Those alone are why they claim she’s “scarily realistic”, not the writing itself. When you speak to them about the character they start talking about their own experiences as if those are part of the show.

When “Stella is terribly written” comes up, the fans love going into diatribes explaining what domestic abuse is to the audience as if we don’t know, and their explanations alone, they think, make Stella suddenly become “well written”.

You ask the fans, “how is she well written?” And they say “well, she’s a woman who is abusive to a man.” The fact female abusers are underrepresented in media means stellas mere existence alone is enough to warrant undivided praise. Standing ovations happen at cons where Bryce Pinkham cites his lines divorcing the character. Despite this conflict being completely shallow.

Stolas fans are extremely insistent that she must remain one note and pure evil. Because to them, in this “powerful story” she’s carrying the fate of male DV victims on her back. So if Stella is humanised, the fear is that male victims of domestic abuse won’t be believed, and their abusers have ‘apologist rhetoric’ (Stella being legitimately done wrong) may hurt them!…Despite “Stella” being nothing more than a cartoon swan. They give this webtoon incredible amounts of social power. And medrano I think, loves and relishes in that power. She doesn’t have to lift a finger and actually write a character, backstory, arc, relationships, likes/dislikes, a plan of villainy, a dynamic, or a story, the fact Stolas exists, is gay, and is a victim to a woman, is enough. Enough for a grand standing ovation.

Let me explain with an example

In this scene of Stella and Via where her mother takes her phone away. The sole dialogue to via is “sorry sweetie, no talking to that deadbeat” that’s all. But twitter users started saying - Via cries like stolas does, Stella hates that. Abusers sometimes bully their children for having traits of their victims. So via has to hide her tears so her mom doesn’t abuse her. They imply they have experience with it, which makes Stellas writing is so realistic.

…..That’s great and all. People are allowed to relate and have comfort characters. But none of that is in the show. Stella just took her daughter’s phone. That’s all she did and said to her. But when someone points that out, they get accused of doubting someone’s real life abuse experience. The one they’ve imagined as also being in the show.

[imjustdreamingig]

Isn't that sweet, I guess so

Part 1, Part 2

pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

summary: The secret's out, Steve's proud of himself, and you can't seem to keep your mouth shut

A/N: chat there is no way I put out 2 fic in the past week, this has never happened to me before! yay everyone cheer. again, i have no idea where this story is going how far im gonna go, i def want to try writing other stuff and idk if this is the best place to put and end to whatever this series is but again, we shall see i guess. thank you all so much on the love on my last two works you have no idea what that means to me! please please PLEASE send me asks or comment what you'd like me to write next or if you want a pt4 i need help people

warnings: sfw, swearing, fluff, idiots who like each other

Facing your fears is tough. No matter what it is, no one would actually choose putting themselves through a situation in which they know would cause them extreme distress. For some that may be going on a rollercoaster, interacting with a clown, going into a dark forrest alone, it could even be making a phone call by yourself to schedule a doctor's appointment (which is a valid fear to have, thank you very much.)

And here you were, facing your fears: being sat in your living room with Steve Harrington 3 feet away from you for an extended period of time. It's only been about 15 minutes, where no talking has happened since minute two.

You hope you can get to 30 minutes without fainting.

As you attempted to focus on the book in front of you, Jane Austen's words, who usually kept your focused for hours on end, were not being absorbed by you in the slightest. How could they, when Steve fucking Harrington was in your house.

Steve is the type of guy who Jane Austen would write about, you thought, eyes flickering towards him as he hunched over his book, face crinkled in concentration, trying to understand said author's musings.

The swoop of his hair, the two moles near his neck, his deep, beautiful, chocolate eyes, his gorgeous smile, and my god those arms? Yep, Jane would be absolutely obsessed with him.

"God, why did I agree to do this book?" You are snapped out of your daze at Steve's words. "What do you mean?", you replied. He gave you a look that can only be described as "seriously?"

"I mean, that I can barley understand what any of these characters are saying half the time, and honestly, it's a bit boring. I thought you would have better book recommendations," he said, running a hand through his hair to push it out of his face.

A scoff left your mouth before you could stop it. "Excuse me, are you actually hating on Pride and Prejudice, the best romance story of all time, the romance story, period." You leaned over and snatched his book. "I mean, come on! You are literally only 6 pages in, you can't just judge it that quickly, you haven't even gotten to the good parts yet!", you exclaim.

Steve watched you with an amused look on his face, unbeknownst to you, who kept rambling on, trying to convince Steve this book was worth continuing.

"— and Elizabeth, she is just funny, like actually hilarious. There is one part where she basically tells someone that I'd rather not be wasting my air talking to someone like you, like please, how did she even come up with that? Also, I'm just obsessed with this proper English style of speaking, or writing I guess, because they're basically talking shit but covering it up with fancy words! And when—"

"You talk a lot, don't you?"

You look up from the book and towards Steve, eyes widening slightly, realizing you had indeed been talking too much.

"One of my greatest faults, some may say, and by faults I mean my mom, but she only tells me this when we're arguing, so..." You glance away from Steve's face for a little reprieve. God, he's so hot.

"Well, like a good partner," you continue. "I'm trying to help you get some of this project done, and maybe if Robin were here, she could've helped," you defended yourself, crossing your arms, "which I'm still confused about, by the way. You said something about her telling you earlier how I invited you guys and some other people to work on the project together, but then she doesn't show?"

Steve leans back in his chair, also crossing his arms. You glance down for a quick second and send a quick thank you to anyone who's that Steve is wearing a tight shirt that beautifully enunciates his biceps. Or maybe you should be mad at them, you don't know yet.

"Maybe it's the fact that she noticed, like I did, that it's been a month since this project was assigned and we haven't even started," Steve countered, "which is unlike you, you usually want to get stuff done ASAP."

You look at him in confusion. "How the fuck do you know that?"

Steve smirks, "I also happen to know that you don't have a sister, thanks to that lovely dinner with your mom." You shake your head in disbelief, mentally making a note to yell at your mom later.

"Isn't that what you said one of the many times I asked you to work on the project?" Steve looked so amused with himself, all cocky and proud that he had uncovered your lie. Your brain tried desperately to come up with a realistic enough explanation, but nothing was coming up.

You throw your hands up in defeat. "Ok, fine! I lied! Is it just so hard for you to believe that maybe, just maybe, not everyone in that high school wants to spend time with you outside of it?" Oh my God, why the fuck would you say that, you screamed internally.

Steve stared at you for a second before letting out a chuckle. " You know, I did think of that actually, but only for a bit." He reaches out for the book and grabs it from your grasp, flipping to a random page.

"You can only run away from a guy so many times before he catches a hint," he peers over at you, " and I mean literally, you're a fast runner, did you ever do track?"

"Yeah, in middle school," you answer quickly. Steve lets out a hum of agreement before placing his attention back on the book. You open your mouth, about to quip about being careful to not rip the pages when he speaks again. "I know I'm dumb, but I'm not an idiot, ya know?"

Your gaze snaps to his face. "Steve, I don't think you're dumb." He doesn't look too convinced. "Eh, I think you do. But you're interesting, you took me a lot longer to figure out than the others since girls just typically throw themselves at me."

You make a face of disgust, "Ok, you sound like a total prick, you know."

"Yep, heard it after I said it, but that's not the point here." He point his finger at you, "You have a crush on me."

You splutter out a sound of indignation. "Hello, what?" In your head, fire alarms are sounding. It's a code red, all hell is breaking loose. "Pfft, no I absolutely do not."

Steve raises his eyebrows. "Then how else do you explain the running away when you see me anywhere at school? You always have an insane excuse why we're not able to meet up to start the project, which some are hilarious," he admits, "but you've got me complaining about not doing homework, look what you've done to me!"

At this point you've gone silent, mouth agape with an excuse stuck in your throat refusing to come out. Steve's expression has changed, his eyes bore into yours with earnest, almost as if he's anticipating a certain answer, hoping for it. "So?"

You muster all the courage you have left and just when you're about to respond, Steve interrupts you again for like, the 15th time.

"Anyways, I've to get going, have some things to do and whatever." He gets up, shrugs on his jacket and then places his books in his backpack. You get up too, having absolutely no clue how to tell him not to go, that you want him to stay. "Steve, what do you mean?"

He glances over at you, "Nothing, I just have to go. I'm a busy guy." He starts making his way to your front door, leaving you behind in the kitchen, trying to understand what the fuck just happened. First, he accuses you of having a crush on him, which you do, and then he just thinks he can leave?

Oh, absolutely not.

With a new wave of determination, you catch up to Steve just as he's finishing putting on his shoes. "Say thanks to your mom for me for dinner, it was great," he says as he grabs the door handle. You don't let him continue with whatever stupid thing he was going to say next.

"Listen Harrington, I don't know what the fuck just happened back there, but the fact you think can just, leave after dropping a bomb like that is ridiculous," you say, glaring at him in annoyance, and Steve's just staring back at you with that stupid, stupid, smirk that has not left his face since the moment he stepped foot in here.

"So what if I did like you, huh? What if I did have a crush on you? Because I do, but that, quite frankly, is none of your business, none of your concern, actually, so... yeah." Steve is looking at you and you're looking at him, a little out of breath after your declaration. You don't have the energy right now to fully process what you just said.

All of a sudden, Steve seems to break character, the smugness gone, replaced with subtle endearment. He leans down and presses a swift kiss on your cheek before whispering, "Well, it's a good thing I like you too." He straightness back up and says, "I told you I knew you were different, you're a mystery. You're lucky running away seemed to work on me, by the way. I don't think it would for everyone else," he says while you stare at him in shock. You've been rendered silent once again, with nothing but the thought that Steve likes you back, repeating over and over again.

You clear your throat before speaking, "Well! Um, yay?" You truly have no idea what to do right now. Steve chuckles at your reaction, like he can't believe his words have caused you of all people, who continuously talk and talk and talk, to not have anything profound to say for once. He's kind of into it.

Steve grabs your hand and encases it with the other. "Come over to my house tomorrow after school, I'll drive you. We can work on the project and you know, talk, if you want." You nod fervently, "Yeah, yeah ok."

He smiles and drops your hand. "I really do have to go though, I wasn't making that up," he remarks as he opens the front door. "Oh, sure, that's fine," you reply. You hold open the door for him and watch as he descends the steps and makes his way towards his car. You watch him, holding onto the door for dear life.

As Steve gets into the car, he looks over at you and waves, "I'll see you tomorrow!" You wave back and yell back, "Yeah, tomorrow!" You don't go back inside until the car is out of sight. As you shut the door, you press your back against it, trying to wrap your head around what exactly happened in the last few hours.

Holy shit, you though, Steve Harrington likes me. Steve fucking Harrington. You let out an involuntarily squeal of excitement and immediately regret doing it as your mother calls down from upstairs. "Mija, are you ok? What happened?" Hearing her voice reminds you of her involvement over the events that transpired tonight.

Putting your happiness on hold for a moment, you start to storm up the stairs. "Mom!", you yelled, "How could you embarrass me like that, asking him to stay over for dinner, you know how I feel about him, I just about fainted 5 times throughout the night, how does that make you feel!? You almost killed me an—"

You would thank your mom later, because ultimately she helped, but for now, you'll stick to this.

[straightoutthehexcore]

"Honey"

Pit fighter Vi and every other design change of hers after that can 100% get it. All day, every day. She could punch me square in the nose and I'd lap up the blood, savor the metallic taste, and thank her profusely.

Characters: Vi

Synopsis: General smut headcanons for Vi, technically Vi x AFAB! reader

Content Warning: NSFW themes (public sex, oral (fem. anatomy receiving), strap-on sex, masochism if you squint (mere mention), praise kink, mentions of tribbing/scissoring, soft dom (for the most part), overstimulation)

"She's hell in a basket, just making a racket I love every second, it's fucking fantastic."

Canon lesbian, not deviating from that. no need to bombard my requests and replies this time folks, learned my lesson.

Heavy switch, gives off top energy but could be either/or on a given day. I used to think that she was mostly a top, but after careful research watching a bunch of CaitVi scenes, yes that one too I realized that wasn't the case.

May or may not be a virgin, depends on if we're talking B.C. (before Caitlyn) or A.C. (after Caitlyn). For me personally, it's after Cait (I love crashout alt women).

I once saw a post where someone said that Cait and Vi can literally only fuck in prison cells, and that basically informed my headcanon that Vi, more than Cait, is really into public sex,

It's in the clicking heels that walk past and the small noises that make you jump as you shiver while she lays gentle kisses on your neck and collarbone. The touch of her fingertips on your sides linger, and you're genuinely a little worried but Vi's reassurance whispered into your ear makes it hard not to give in.

"Come on baby, you're okay. Besides, nothing they can do that I can't do worse."

Really good at oral, loves sucking the clit specifically because it results in an ecstatic gasp from her partner. Her grip on your supple skin is also very tight, and she'll also rub the skin of your ass or outer thighs (maybe even inching up your sides) while eating you out.

THRIVES in the 69 position, she loves having her face sat on. Already wrote about this before but it still stands.

LOVES having her hair tugged on and having you fuck/buck up into her face while giving oral.

She likes being treated roughly as a bottom too, so in whatever mood she's in, she's a slight masochist.

Bigger on strap fucking that tribbing/scissoring/etc.

Will do tribbing/scissoring for her partner (and doesn't really hate it), but doesn't necessarily prefer it.

The strap exclusively belongs to her.

Why yes, it is a HexStrap, how did you know?

Pretty good stamina, so she could top for a while. It all depends on how long you can keep up. She's a really considerate lover.

She does have her moods where she takes out her stress/anger out on you in bed, overstimulating you and taking pleasure in your cries, whimpers, and labored breaths as she teases that she knows you can cum for her one more time.

"Do it for me, I know you got it in you, just one more..."

Other than that, though, generally she's a kind lover who praises you and reassures you that you're doing just fine, your gummy walls squeezing around her strap every time she circles your clit and hits that same spot inside of you harmoniously.

"Good job, sweetheart. Taking it so well, I'm proud of you."

Also gives really sweet, meaningful, yet hungry kisses. In general, but definitely during sex.

She is a praise kink haver's wettest dream, between the voice and the idea of an edgy, dominant futch woman telling you that you're taking her cock better than she thinks anyone could.

She also kinda has a praise kink, so definitely make sure to remind her just how good she's fucking you or how it feels seeing stars with her head bobbing as she show you heaven on Runeterra.

But most importantly...

She'd 100% leave you for Cait. Any day of the week.

"Well she stings like she means it, She's mean and she's mine."

Hello hello hello once again! Figured I'd try this again... because I wanted to. The gay late night thoughts go crazy.

Oh yeah: to the same people reading this post after literally harassing me over this character’s sexuality (you know who you are), don’t do that again. I already took responsibility for what I did, but I’m telling you to not do that.

I don’t appreciate being insulted in my requests because I chose to turn off replies for a little bit because a lot of you guys were being rude asf over a fictional character. I appreciate those who were trying to kindly explain it, but when others are acting rude over things like this, it’s just annoying.

On a more light hearted note, I chose this song as the title n stuff because I remembered listening to it and being like "oh, this kinda reminds me of Vi," but I listened more while writing this and realized it was so CaitVi coded, specifically from Cait's p.o.v.

So long box munchers (affectionate), Rosey <3

Masterlist is here for everyone! See ya! <3

[lexicorp]

I certainly adore how they approached Starscream's character in Armada. And in the end, at the very least he goes out on his own terms for once

Lmaooooo they're so hekin goofy-X3

Exactly!! It is very frustrating when ppl take that angle. He's just hella guarded with shit ass copping mechanisms-

Arc and Star just being able to chill when alone is so wholesome. It's always nice when you can have one on one time with that one person where you both just /get/ each other without having to worry about calculating how your presenting yourself

Bringing it back to the "because I said so" line so perfectly coalesces that struggle to express ones self while wanting control. The "don't question me" mentality that comes up again. Where he can't form the words to explain but just /needs/ them to dewit. Even if it was initially an order out of concern rather than triggered insecurity

Thnx! And that is such a perfect and natural feeling conversation for them to stumble upon I feel. Star hating the idea of seeing his kids hurt by his own servos, and perhaps even in heavy moments, he'd stop himself mid motion just completely suddenly. Like his salt rose to a point, but as soon as it /almost/ reached that line, he'd backpedal the shit out of it and prob immediately dismiss the kids and excuse himself

I have a moment in the recent chapter of my fic, where Star gets frustrated and lashes out at Bumblebee over a game. He pulls the line of "this IS your fault!" Even tho it wasn't bees and he knew that but he couldn't direct his anger on the other person. But as soon as those words left his intake and he saw the look bee had as star had forcefully grabbed his servo-- he just stopped. Cuz it's like that oh shit moment of seeing yourself in the person you're lashing out against.

Also one think I like in Earthspark s2 is an interaction between spitfire/twitch and Starscream, when she's being insubordinate as slag, but he only talks to her. He only even raises his voice when she actually straight up wrecks their shit

I know in one comic, then Cybertronians are born asexually from the well of sparks thing, but assigned a mentor upon creation. In that, then he has a mom, who cultivated his love of Cybertronian nature and mythology/history. (Their relationship seemed decent at least, if distant at times, although he felt a bit abandoned by her when she went to accept death. Then.... Well the comic has a sketch ending regarding where she ends up.) Im not sure where warp and thunder play in that lore

I always would love more content exploring the elite trine bois dude, their dynamics are very flavored. I have my own interpretations based on what little I've gotten from fan works ngl

So many Starscream's lol

I just had a huge realisation yesterday and I wanted to share this after going through some pretty horrible stuff over the weekend: Something I've always asked myself ever since getting into G1 Transformers was "why do you like Starscream so much even though he's a narcissistic bully? Why are you, someone who is a victim of narcissistic abuse, taking comfort in a narcissistic character?" Well, I think I finally figured it out. Because Starscream is also a victim of that very same abuse. I mean, he's beaten, called names, bullied, unappreciated, abused, and put through the wringer…and he internalised all that abuse because he knew no other way. He had no one to turn to, and the few bots who did support him, he treated like dirt. Once he had that freedom and power, he abused it and became the very thing that abused him. I have no doubt he was always self-centred, selfish, had a huge ego, etc. before all that but honestly? I think Megatron's abuse caused him to turn out the way he did. I could have turned out that way and it's a little scary, some of the parallels I'm drawing with him.

@ichbinmeltdown wrote a great analysis on Starscream that I want to share here:

"Megatron was abusive as hell to Starscream. He treated him horribly, and I legitimately almost cried a few times watching it. There's an episode called Starscream's Brigade that introduces the Combaticons, and I think that perfectly demonstrates the cycle of abuse. The entire world is against Starscream at pretty much every turn throughout the series, but none more so than Megatron. Every word out of his speech synthesizer to Starscream is to berate him, and he's constantly throwing him around, beating him, even ripping out his speech synthesizer in a scene from a previous episode (Hoist Goes Hollywood, IIRC). His own teammates don't like him, and even his brothers- Skywarp and Thundercracker, going off of the idea they're brothers- just... allow Megatron to abuse him. (Not to get into headcanons here, but I personally believe that Megatron's abuse fractured the Elite Trine's family dynamic. They are still brothers and love each other, but they're all too afraid of Megatron to really... stand up for each other as they did in the past.) And Starscream seemed to just snap in this episode. He treated the Combaticons poorly, and even when teaming up with Shockwave, he subjected him to a lot of the same ridicule and torment that Megatron put him through. He failed to realize Shockwave was the one of the only bots who would give him a chance- and unfortunately lashed out at him, which ruined his chances of Shockwave ever being a true friend and ally to him. Once Starscream had finally gotten a taste of power and not being under another bot's boot, he too became the very thing that he lived in fear of. And that really is how the cycle goes- when you're finally free from abuse, it can be tempting to overcompensate and take back all the power you were robbed of, at any cost whatsoever. Starscream, like D16 in Transformers One, snapped up this opportunity."

And the sad thing is, I've seen this in real life and I've internalised some of the abuse I've dealt with too. I'm not proud of it. Like the Seeker Trine, my own family dynamic has been fractured by similar abuse. I know there's traces of narcissism in my behaviour too, and I'm NOT proud of it. Maybe this is why I can forgive Starscream for being a narc, because I can see a little bit of my own personality/attitude/behaviour in him. Maybe it's because I know where it came from, I get why he acts that way and it's not just random and out of the blue. Maybe it's because--and I know this is a bold statement--I don't think he would do some of the stuff my own family did to me (blah blah blah he's a fictional character).

I didn't mean for this to turn into a long rant, so

TLDR: I finally figured out that part of the reason I love and relate to Starscream so much despite him internalising some of the abuse I went through, is because he was the victim of that same abuse.

[kckt88]

Scorched Hearts - Younger II

Summary:

'We loved with a love that was more than love - Edgar Allen Poe'

A glimpse into the past of Aemond and Valaena.

Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Mild Violence, Blood, Language, Secret Relationship, Uncle/Niece Incest, Shame, Self Loathing, Discussion of Brothel Visit, Kissing, Fingering, Coming in Pants, Oral Sex, Loss of Virginity, P in V.

AEMOND x O.C Niece

Word Count: 10080

A.N -

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx

The coming year had been long and trying for both Aemond and Valaena, but their letters had been a lifeline.

Each parchment carried their joys, struggles, and the quiet comfort of knowing they still had each other despite the distance.

Aemond had written of his determination to overcome the limitations imposed by the loss of his eye. He described the gruelling hours he spent training with Ser Criston, vowing to become the fiercest swordsman in the realm.

His studies proved a little more challenging; reading with one eye often led to debilitating headaches.

But Valaena had suggested a remedy—willow bark tea—and to his relief, it helped. He thanked her profusely in his letters.

In turn, Valaena shared news from Dragonstone. Her mother, Rhaenyra, had been overjoyed at the birth of her son, Aegon, though the choice of name had caused ripples of discontent.

Aemond wrote back, confirming that his mother, Alicent, saw it as an affront to her own son, Aegon.

Otto, Aemond said, was not shy in voicing his opinions on the matter, fuelling the already simmering tensions between their families.

Aemond confided in Valaena his fears for Helaena, who was now betrothed to Aegon. He worried for his sweet sister, knowing Aegon’s temperament was far from gentle.

He hated the idea of her being unhappy in her marriage, but his protests went unheard.

Then came the day Aemond made a bold suggestion: they should meet in person.

They were both older enough to fly their dragons on their own, and he proposed a spot near Wendwater.

Valaena had readily agreed, her heart fluttering at the thought of seeing him again.

It had been over a year, and she missed him more than words could convey.

Convincing her mother, however, proved more challenging. Rhaenyra was reluctant to let her only daughter fly Silverwing alone.

But Valaena’s persistence and assurances eventually wore her down.

The day finally arrived. Strapped into Silverwing’s saddle, Valaena took a deep breath before giving her dragon the command to take flight.

At first, fear tugged at her, the vast expanse of the skies unnerving without the familiar presence of Syrax or Caraxes flying alongside her.

But as Silverwing’s powerful wings cut through the air, the bond between dragon and rider strengthened.

Valaena began to feel a sense of exhilaration, trusting Silverwing to guide her.

Eventually the Wendwater soon came into view, and her heart pounded as she spotted Vhagar—a hulking silhouette on the ground below.

Beside the ancient dragon stood a silver-haired figure.

It’s him.

Silverwing landed with a gentle thud, her scales glinting in the sunlight. Valaena unstrapped herself and slid down the dragon’s wing, her boots hitting the ground softly.

For a moment, she hesitated, taking in the sight of Aemond as he approached her.

He had changed. His hair was longer, and straighter cascading past his shoulders, he stood a little taller too, his frame lean and gangly.

Aemond tilted his head, noticing her hesitation, and a small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Then he opened his arms.

Valaena’s feet moved before her mind could catch up, and she broke into a run, throwing herself into his embrace.

Her arms wrapped tightly around him, her fingers clutching the fabric of his cloak. She buried her face in his neck, breathing him in—the faint scent of leather and something uniquely Aemond.

“I missed you,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.

His arms tightened around her, his hand cradling the back of her head. “I missed you too,” he replied softly, his voice thick with feeling.

For a moment, the world seemed to still. It was just the two of them, reunited at last, and neither wanted to let go.

Valaena stepped back slightly, taking in Aemond with a soft, admiring smile. “You’re getting so tall,” she said, a hint of playfulness in her voice.

Aemond grinned, his expression boyish for just a moment before he reached out and gently twirled a lock of her dark hair around his gloved hand.

“And you are-sīr gevie” he murmured, the Valyrian words rolling off his tongue smoothly (So beautiful).

The compliment made Valaena blush, a soft warmth spreading across her cheeks as she lowered her gaze for a moment.

Then she felt Aemond’s fingers slip into hers, his hand warm even through the glove.

Their gazes met, and for a long moment, the two of them simply stood there, basking in each other’s presence.

Behind them, Vhagar shifted, her massive form casting an even larger shadow over the clearing.

Valaena turned her head, taking in the dragon with wide eyes. “She truly is a wonder,” she breathed.

Aemond followed her gaze and smiled with quiet pride. “Would you like to meet her?”

At Valaena’s eager nod, he kept her hand in his and led her toward the ancient dragon.

Vhagar, sensing their approach, lowered her colossal head, exhaling a warm gust of air that rustled the grass.

Silverwing, however, grumbled protectively behind Valaena, her tail slamming into the ground in a clear warning.

“Lykirī, Silverwing,” Valaena said firmly, turning to her dragon. Silverwing reluctantly backed down but kept her sharp gaze trained on Vhagar, her nostrils flaring (Be calm).

Aemond chuckled softly. “I thought she was said to be the gentlest of all the dragons?”

Valaena laughed, a bright sound that seemed to cut through the tension. “I guess when it comes to protecting her rider, things can change.”

Turning back to Vhagar, Aemond placed a hand gently on the dragon’s massive snout and said “Sagon sȳz uēpa riña-” (Be nice, old girl).

The old dragon huffed, blowing a gust of hot air over both of them. Aemond took Valaena’s hand and placed it on Vhagar’s snout.

The ancient dragon cooed softly before nudging Valaena backward, almost playfully.

Aemond laughed. “I think that’s her way of saying she likes you.”

Valaena smiled, her fingers grazing over Vhagar’s warm scales. “Good to know,” she said, before turning to Silverwing. “Now, do you wish to meet her?”

He nodded, following her toward the sleek silver-scaled dragon. Silverwing trilled affectionately, bowing her head toward Aemond.

Behind him, Vhagar began to lumber after her rider, the ground trembling beneath her weight.

Aemond raised a hand without turning. "Iksan sȳz-" he said calmly, and Vhagar halted with a deep, grumbling huff (I’m fine).

"She’s quite protective," Valaena remarked with a soft laugh.

"For obvious reasons," Aemond replied, his fingers briefly grazing the edge of his eyepatch.

Valaena’s expression grew serious. "I’m sorry for what happened," she said softly. "You didn’t deserve it."

Aemond’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he gave a small nod. "It’s not your fault," he said, his voice quieter than before. "But I appreciate your apology."

Silverwing nudged Valaena gently, rumbling sweetly as if sensing the shift in mood. Valaena turned back to her dragon with a fond smile. "And this, of course, is Silverwing."

Aemond reached out, his hand brushing over the smooth, glimmering scales of the dragon’s snout.

"She’s beautiful," he murmured, his voice tinged with admiration.

Silverwing cooed in response, her large, intelligent eyes watching Aemond with curiosity.

After a few moments, Aemond once again took her hand. "We did it," he said, his voice filled with quiet pride. "We finally have our dragons."

"We do," Valaena agreed, her smile wide and genuine.

"Come," Aemond said, guiding her toward the soft sand. "Let’s sit. I’m sure there are things we can talk about that couldn’t be put into our letters."

Valaena eagerly nodded, sitting beside him. Her heart skipped a beat when his arm settled around her shoulders, a warm, steady presence.

Blushing, she leaned ever so slightly into his side, contentment washing over her.

For the first time in what felt like forever, all was right in their world.

Over the following months, Aemond and Valaena met as often as they could, always at the same secluded spot near Wendwater.

Their weekly meetings became their sanctuary—a brief escape from their families.

Though they continued to exchange letters, the frequency dwindled, as their time together now provided the comfort and joy that the written word could never fully convey.

Their days were filled with laughter and light-hearted challenges, like racing through the clouds on the backs of their dragons, Silverwing and Vhagar.

They soared through the skies, their laughter ringing out as they pushed each other to go faster, higher.

Between their races, they discovered a small, abandoned cabin nestled among the trees.

Though the structure was weathered and in need of repair, it quickly became their refuge, a place affectionately referred to as “our place.”

It was theirs alone, untouched by the world beyond.

But then one day, Aemond didn’t come.

Valaena waited for hours on the familiar beach, her heart sinking with each passing moment.

When the sun began to dip below the horizon, she returned to Dragonstone, her mind plagued with worry.

For days after she wrote letter after letter, desperate to hear from him, but none of them received a reply.

What if they had been discovered? Had Aemond been forbidden from seeing her? Or worse—had he been injured?

As the weeks stretched into nearly two months of silence, darker fears crept in.

What if Aemond had decided he no longer wanted to see her?

The thought shattered her heart, leaving a gaping void where their bond had once thrived.

Eventually, she accepted what felt like the inevitable: Aemond didn’t want her anymore.

But before giving up completely, she penned one final letter—a desperate plea for him to meet her at their place one last time, even if it was to say goodbye.

Dressed in her riding leathers, Valaena took to the skies on Silverwing. The dragon sensed her rider’s anguish, cooing and trilling softly throughout the flight in an attempt to console her.

When they reached the beach, Silverwing stayed close, her presence a source of quiet comfort as Valaena waited.

Hours passed, and the sky darkened with the approach of evening.

Tears streaked Valaena’s cheeks as she stared at the empty horizon.

Finally, she turned to mount Silverwing, resigned to the truth that Aemond wasn’t coming.

Then a mighty roar echoed through the air.

Valaena’s head snapped up, her heart pounding as Vhagar descended through the clouds. The ancient dragon circled once before landing with a ground-shaking thud.

Aemond climbed down the rope ladder, his movements deliberate. When his boots hit the sand, he turned to face her, his expression solemn.

"You haven’t been responding to my letters," Valaena said, her voice trembling. "Or coming to our place."

"No," Aemond replied flatly, his tone detached, his gaze fixed somewhere over her shoulder.

"Have I done something to upset you?" she asked, her voice breaking. "If I have, then I’m sorry, and—"

"It’s not you," Aemond interrupted, his voice strained. "It’s me."

Confusion flashed across her face. "What do you mean?"

Aemond took a deep, shuddering breath. "I think it’s for the best that we don’t see each other anymore."

The words hit her like a blow. "W-what? Why?"

"We’ve been fools," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "To think we could carry on our—friendship."

"Has something happened?" she pressed, stepping closer. "Has your mother or grandsire discovered—"

"No," Aemond cut her off sharply. "We have not been discovered."

"Then why?" Valaena asked, her voice rising with desperation.

A long silence hung between them, broken only by the distant sound of the waves.

Finally, Aemond spoke, his voice trembling with shame. "Because I am tainted. Despoiled. I am no longer worthy of your friendship-or our closeness."

Valaena furrowed her brow. "What are you talking about?"

"F-For my name day," Aemond began hesitantly, his fists clenching at his sides, "Aegon took me to a brothel on the Street of Silk. He said it was his duty as my brother to ensure I was as educated as he was."

Realization dawned, and Valaena’s heart plummeted. "Oh," she whispered, taking a step back. "So you—"

"I didn’t want to," Aemond said quickly, his voice cracking. "But Aegon-he paid, and the woman, Sylvi, she had to—"

"Oh, Aemond," Valaena said softly, rushing forward to take his hand.

But he recoiled, pushing her away. "No. I am no longer worthy of you. I’ve tainted myself with the touch of a whore."

"It wasn’t your fault," Valaena insisted, her voice firm.

Aemond shook his head. "I wanted my first time to be with you," he said, his voice raw with anguish. "But now it’s been taken, and I’ll never get it back."

Valaena’s chest ached at his words. "We can still be together," she said, tears streaming down her face.

"No, we can’t," Aemond said, his voice hollow. "I’m disgusted with myself. And you—you are so sweet, so lovely. I don’t deserve you."

Valaena’s hands balled into fists. "So that’s it? You’re just going to turn your back on me? Don’t I mean anything to you?"

"You mean everything to me," Aemond said, his voice breaking. "And that’s why I’m sparing you."

"All you’re doing is breaking my heart!" Valaena cried. "I-I love you, Aemond”

His head snapped up, his eye wide with disbelief. "W-what did you say?"

"I love you," she repeated, her voice steady despite her tears.

Aemond gasped softly. "But-how can you, after what I’ve done?"

"Because you’re still my Aemond," Valaena said. "And it wasn’t your fault."

For a moment, Aemond stood frozen. Then he surged forward, wrapping his arms tightly around her.

His voice cracked as he muttered, "I’m sorry. I’m so sorry," over and over again.

Their knees gave way, and they sank to the sand together. Aemond buried his face in her neck, his shoulders shaking as he sobbed.

Valaena held him close, her fingers threading through his long silver hair as she whispered, "It’s going to be okay. Iksan lēda ao" (I’m with you).

In the months that followed their emotional reconciliation, Aemond and Valaena grew closer than ever.

Their bond, already strong, deepened with the comfort of shared joy of simply being together.

They turned their attention to repairing the old cabin, transforming it into a cozy retreat that was entirely theirs.

The process was slow—neither of them had any knowledge of carpentry or repairs—but Aemond optimistically declared, “That’s what books are for.”

At their weekly meetings, he arrived with his satchel bulging with tomes on woodwork and home repairs, their pages well-thumbed as he poured over diagrams and instructions.

Their efforts were often punctuated by fits of laughter. Like the time Aemond hit his thumb with the hammer while trying to repair a hole in the wall, spending an hour muttering curses under his breath.

Or when Valaena, perched precariously on a stool, tried to hang curtains on the drafty window only to lose her balance and tumble into a pile of blankets.

By some miracle, they made progress, patching the cabin’s worn wooden walls and repairing the sagging beams.

It wasn’t perfect—the walls leaned slightly, and their makeshift solutions were far from elegant—but the sense of accomplishment was undeniable.

They began leaving things behind: blankets, supplies, and small touches that made the cabin feel like home.

Valaena even tried her hand at sewing a tapestry to hang on the wall, her needle fumbling through the fabric in an attempt to create a dragon.

When she showed it to Aemond, he tilted his head and smirked. “It’s-recognizable. If you look at it upside down.”

Valaena huffed, playfully swatting his arm. “Oh well, perhaps my talents lie elsewhere.”

Despite the teasing, Aemond hung it up anyway, insisting it was a valuable addition—though it ended up serving more as a draft stopper than decoration.

When the cabin repairs were finally complete, their visits became less about work and more about enjoying each other’s company.

They spent hours curled up in front of the small hearth, taking turns reading aloud.

On days when Aemond’s headaches flared from the strain of reading, he would lay his head in Valaena’s lap, letting her voice soothe him as she read, her fingers gently combing through his silver hair.

One day, Valaena suggested they try sparring.

“I don’t want to hear any of that you’re a girl nonsense-” she declared, brandishing a wooden practice sword that Aemond had left in the cabin.

Aemond’s lips curved into a smirk. “I wasn’t going to say that at all. In fact, I declare you a worthy opponent.”

They faced off on the sandy shore, wooden swords clashing as the sound of laughter mingled with the crash of the waves.

Valaena surprised herself by holding her own for a while, dodging Aemond’s strikes and managing a few good hits of her own.

But then Aemond, quick and calculated, tripped her.

She tumbled to the ground with a surprised yelp, sand sticking to her. But she wasn’t about to let him win so easily.

As Aemond extended a hand to help her up, she grabbed his wrist and yanked him down with her.

They landed in a tangle of limbs, laughter spilling from both of them. The sound faded as their eyes met, the world narrowing to just the two of them.

Aemond’s gaze softened, his expression shifting into something tender yet intense. Slowly, he leaned closer, and Valaena felt her breath catch as his lips met hers.

The kiss was hesitant at first, shy and tentative, but it carried a deep, unspoken passion that had been simmering between them for what felt like forever.

Aemond’s gloved hand cupped her face with gentle care, while Valaena’s fingers tightened in the fabric of his tunic, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened.

Their tongues brushed, igniting a warmth that sent a shiver down her spine.

When they finally broke apart, their foreheads touched, their breaths mingling in the quiet, intimate moment.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” Aemond admitted, his voice low and rough.

Valaena smiled, her cheeks flushed. “Me too.”

For a long moment, they stayed there in the sand, the roar of the waves and the distant calls of their dragons a comforting backdrop to the start of something new between them.

The cabin was quiet, the only sounds the soft crackling of the fire and the occasional whistle of the wind through the trees outside.

Valaena lay nestled in Aemond’s arms on the small bed they’d pieced together during their repairs, their bodies pressed close together on top of the fur blanket.

Aemond’s nose brushed against her neck, his breath tickling her skin as he murmured against her ear, his voice low and filled with determination.

“I’m going to marry you someday,” he said, his words a promise.

Valaena smiled, her fingers idly tracing patterns on his arm. “Oh, are you now?” she teased, her tone light but her heart racing at the conviction in his voice.

“Hmmm” Aemond hummed, pressing a soft kiss to her jawline. “I intend to keep the vow I made in front of the weirwood tree.”

Valaena huffed a laugh, tilting her head to look at him. “I think our family might have something to say about that”

A shadow passed over Aemond’s face before smirked, his violet eye glinting in the firelight. “I don’t care,” he said firmly, his arms tightening around her. “We’ll run away if we have to.”

“Run away?” Valaena giggled, the thought both thrilling and absurd. “Where would we go?”

“To some faraway land where no one can tell us that we can’t be together-we would live free and have children-create our own family” he said confidently, his lips brushing her cheek as he peppered it with kisses, his affection making her laugh again.

“You make it sound so simple,” she said, though the idea filled her with a reckless kind of joy.

“Because it is,” Aemond replied, turning her face toward him and capturing her lips in a kiss.

This kiss wasn’t playful like his earlier ones; it was deeper, slower, filled with the weight of his love for her.

Valaena melted against him, her hand slipping into his hair, fingers tangling in the silver strands as she pulled him closer.

Aemond half-rolled on top of her, the kiss growing more intense as their breaths mingled.

After a few minutes, Aemond pulled back, his forehead resting against hers as they both caught their breath.

Valaena’s hand toyed with the strap of his eyepatch, her fingers hesitant.

“May I?” she asked softly.

Aemond stiffened, his body going still. “It’s unsightly,” he said, his voice quiet, almost ashamed.

“Ivestragī nyke ūndegon ao,” she whispered, her tone gentle but firm. (Let me see you)

He hesitated, his chest rising and falling as he took a deep, shuddering breath. Finally, he nodded, moving back slightly to kneel on the bed.

His hand shook as he reached up and removed the eyepatch, the leather falling away to reveal the scarred, empty socket beneath. He lowered his head, unable to meet her gaze.

Valaena sat up, her heart aching at his vulnerability. She reached out, placing a finger under his chin and lifting his face.

She leaned forward and pressed her lips gently to the scarred side of his face, her kiss lingering as she whispered, “Ñuha gevie gēlenka zaldrīzes.” (My beautiful brave dragon)

A tear slipped from his good eye, and before he could say anything, Valaena kissed him again, her hands cupping his face as she guided him back down onto the bed.

Aemond followed her willingly, his lips never leaving hers as he settled between her legs, their bodies aligning.

The kisses grew more fervent, their hands roaming one another. Aemond’s tunic was discarded, his cotton shirt quickly following. Valaena’s dress was unlaced and pulled from her body, leaving her in a sheer shift.

They paused, breathing heavily as they looked at one another, their love unspoken but palpable in the air between them.

“I-I’m not ready to-to lie with you,” Valaena whispered, her voice trembling.

Aemond smiled softly, brushing a lock of hair from her face. “It’s okay,” he said, his tone soothing. “We won’t do anything you’re not ready for.”

Valaena hesitated before shyly whispering, “B-but you can touch me-if you want.”

His gaze searched hers, his eye filled with reverence. “Are you sure?” he asked gently.

“Yes,” she breathed, nodding.

Aemond kissed her again, his hand trailing down her body with a reverence that made her shiver.

His hand slowly moving under the fabric of her shift, moving it higher and higher his fingers skimming the soft flesh of her thigh before his fingers rubbed her pearl over the cotton material of her small clothes.

“Already so wet for me” groaned Aemond.

“A-Aemond” breathed Valaena.

“Does it feel good baby?” asked Aemond.

“Oh-Aemond-yes-please” whimpered Valaena as he moved her small clothes aside and slid two of his long fingers inside her.

“Ñuha dōna jorrāelagon” whispered Aemond as he slowly curled his fingers inside her (My sweet love).

“A-Aemond,” she stuttered, her body trembling beneath his. “Something is happening, it f-feels-”

“Let it happen,” he groaned, his lips brushing against her ear as he rolled his own hips against her, matching the rhythm of his fingers and they moved inside her.

Valaena’s body arched, as the pleasure exploded and she shuddered against him, a soft cry escaping her lips before she relaxed, her cheeks flushed pink.

“Did you enjoy that?” Aemond asked, his voice low and tender, as he slowly removed his fingers.

“Yes,” she whispered, her face heating as she avoided his gaze.

He kissed her again, pulling her close and holding her against his bare chest.

“What about you?” she asked softly,

“D-Don’t worry about me” replied Aemond his cheeks tinged pink.

Valaena frowned and looked down and noticed the damp spot on Aemond’s trousers. “Did you-”

Aemond nodded, looking slightly embarrassed. “Yes-I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it-”

“It’s okay,” she said quickly, offering him a shy smile.

He pressed a quick kiss to her lips before climbing off the bed and using a rag to clean himself up.

When he returned, he pulled back the fur blanket, gesturing for her to climb in.

“We don’t have much time before I have to go back to Dragonstone,” she said, her voice tinged with sadness.

“I know,” he said sadly, pulling her into his arms once they were both under the fur. “But please, just let me hold you.”

Valaena sighed in contentment as she cuddled up against him, his warmth and steady heartbeat soothing her.

They lay there, tangled together, savouring every stolen moment before the world inevitably pulled them apart again.

Valaena’s name day feast was in full swing, the great hall of Dragonstone alive with the sounds of laughter and celebration.

The long table was laden with food, the golden glow of the firelight reflecting off polished goblets and dishes.

Despite the warmth of the occasion, Valaena found her thoughts elsewhere—on a certain silver-haired prince.

Her mother had insisted on hosting the feast, and Valaena had been unable to refuse. She sat at the table, surrounded by her family.

Rhaenyra and Daemon occupied the seats at the head, her brothers Jace and Luke sitting to one side, and her stepsister Rhaena on the other.

Near the fire, her younger brother Aegon sat on a blanket with baby Viserys and their nursemaid, Elinda, playing with brightly painted wooden toys.

The first gift was from Rhaenyra—a set of new riding leathers tailored to perfection.

The shoulders were patterned with swirling dragon scales, and finished off with a crimson sash that could be fastened using her dragon chain.

Daemon followed with a gift of his own—a matching leather wrist gauntlet embossed with the Targaryen three-headed dragon sigil.

“A set of two,” he said as he fastened it onto her wrist, showing her the matching one on his own. “Biare brōzio tubis tala,” he said with a rare softness in his tone. (Happy name day, daughter)

Valaena smiled, touched by the gesture. “Thank you, Kepa-” she said, her voice filled with warmth. (Father).

Jace presented her with a set of beaded bracelets, made of silver and white “In honour of Silverwing,” he said with a grin.

Luke offered her a set of hairbrushes, carefully crafted from polished wood “They’re not much, but I hope you like them-I know you don’t like  others touching your hair” he said shyly.

“They’re lovely,” Valaena said, her smile reassuring him.

Rhaena handed her a seashell necklace, from the Driftmark shores.

From Maester Gerardys, she received a tray of her favourite cakes.

As her eyes scanned the selection, she noticed that some were ones Aemond particularly enjoyed.

Her gaze flickered toward Gerardys, who stood silently at the edge of the hall, his expression calm but his eyes knowing.

“Thank you, Maester-” Valaena said aloud, her voice bright enough to carry, ensuring the gesture was noticed. “Will you not join us?”

Gerardys inclined his head. “It would be my honour, Princess-” He took a seat beside her, and as the feast carried on, he discreetly pressed a folded letter into her hand beneath the table.

Valaena whispered her thanks, and the Maester gave a small, encouraging smile.

Later that evening, Valaena seized her opportunity, slipping away from the hall, she quickly changed into her new riding leathers and headed toward the stone staircase that led to the dragons’ cavern.

“Off flying again? Sister-” Jace’s voice stopped her, his footsteps echoing in the corridor as he approached.

“Of course,” Valaena replied, her tone casual as she adjusted the fit of her leathers, her fingers toying with the smooth fabric of the red sash.

Jace tilted his head, studying her. “Where do you go when you disappear for hours on end?”

“We just fly-” she said simply, her gaze steady. “Sometimes we find a place to rest, and I wait whilst Silverwing hunts.”

Jace smiled faintly. “You always were more dragon than the rest of us.”

“Even though my dragon egg didn’t hatch?” she asked, raising a brow.

“Yes,” he said thoughtfully. “Mother told me that not all dragons are born to us. Sometimes, there are those who must go out and claim their dragons.”

“Maybe it was fate,” Valaena said softly. “Maybe my egg didn’t hatch because Silverwing was meant for me.”

Jace nodded, considering her words. “It takes a great deal of courage to stand in front of a dragon and do what you did.”

Valaena’s fingers brushed over silver dragon chain that fastened across her body. “Just like Aemond and Vhagar,” she said, her voice quieter now.

At the mention of Aemond, Jace’s expression quickly soured. “That’s different,” he said sharply. “You claimed a dragon that didn’t belong to someone else.”

Valaena scoffed, narrowing her eyes. “We don’t own the dragons, Jacaerys. They are sentient, intelligent creatures capable of making their own decisions. Like it or not, Vhagar chose Aemond that night. She saw something in him, and we both know that if she didn’t want to accept him, she would have reduced him to a pile of ash.”

“But Rhaena—”

“Vhagar was her mother’s dragon,” Valaena interrupted, her tone firm but not unkind. “I understand why she wanted to claim her, but that doesn’t give her the automatic right to do so. Look at Meleys. She once belonged to Daemon’s mother, and yet she refused him. His own mother’s dragon, and she wouldn’t have him. But she bent her neck to Rhaenys.”

Jace faltered, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I guess when you put it like that-”

Valaena’s tone softened, but her resolve remained firm. “It was Aemond’s right as a Targaryen to claim Vhagar, and he lost his eye for it. You might want to remember that the next time you cast scorn upon him.”

Before Jace could respond, she turned and descended the stairs, disappearing into the cavern below.

Silverwing landed on the sand with a resonant thud, her powerful wings kicking up a swirl of salt-tinged air.

Valaena slid gracefully down the dragon’s shimmering silver wing, her boots sinking slightly into the soft ground.

As she dusted herself off, her gaze shifted to where Vhagar loomed nearby, feasting on what appeared to be a large whale she had recently caught.

Silverwing chittered, a sound halfway between curiosity and a plea, and moved cautiously toward Vhagar, clearly interested in sharing the spoils.

For a moment, the older dragon seemed disinclined to share, her massive head lifting to stare down at the smaller Silverwing with an almost reproachful glare.

But then, with a deep huff that sprayed sand and bits of seawater into the air, Vhagar relented, shifting aside slightly. Silverwing chirped in triumph and eagerly joined the feast.

Valaena huffed a laugh, watching the two dragons interact with a mixture of affection and awe. She adjusted her riding leathers and sash before heading toward the small cabin nestled amidst the rocks and trees.

When she pushed open the door, warmth and the soft crackle of the fire greeted her. Aemond was seated in a chair by the hearth, his sword resting against the arm, but as soon as his eye met hers, he rose swiftly.

He crossed the room in a few long strides, his hands immediately cradling her face as he kissed her deeply.

When they parted, Aemond rested his forehead against hers and whispered, “Happy name day, my love.”

Valaena blushed, the warmth in his voice causing her stomach to flutter. “Thank you,” she murmured, her voice soft.

“I have something for you,” he said, stepping back slightly. He retrieved a small box from a nearby table and handed it to her.

Valaena opened it carefully, her breath catching when she saw the pendant nestled inside—a small, brilliant sapphire that caught the firelight and shimmered like the sea.

Her lips curved into a smile. “Is this—?”

“Yes,” Aemond interrupted, his tone soft but firm. “A piece of my sapphire.”

He took the necklace from the box as Valaena eagerly turned around, gathering her long, dark hair and holding it up for him.

Aemond fastened the delicate chain around her neck, his fingers brushing against her skin.

“How is the sapphire?” she asked, her voice curious.

Wordlessly, Aemond removed his eyepatch, revealing the jewel nestled where his left eye had once been. The surrounding skin was faintly red, but it was healing well.

Valaena’s hand reached up instinctively, her fingers gently caressing the scarred side of his face. Her gaze lingered on the sapphire, its mesmerizing hue catching the firelight, before her eyes returned to his.

Her thumb brushed along the sharp edge of his jaw, her touch tender.

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispered, her voice filled with awe. “Truly.”

Aemond’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, the vulnerability in his expression replaced with a small, grateful smile. “D-do you like the necklace?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

“I love it,” Valaena said, sincerity shining in her dark eyes. “Thank you.”

Relief and joy softened his features as he leaned in, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss. His arms encircled her, pulling her flush against him.

Their shared warmth seemed to banish the chill of the night, and Valaena’s hands found their way into his hair as she kissed him back fervently.

When they finally broke apart, breathless, Valaena’s cheeks were flushed. “I-I’m ready,” she said, her voice trembling slightly with both nerves and determination. “I-I want to lie with you.”

Aemond froze for a moment, his eye searching hers. “Are you sure?” he asked softly, his tone gentle but firm. “We don’t have to”

“I’m sure,” she replied, nodding with conviction. “I want this. I want you.”

Aemond’s lips curved into a soft, reverent smile. “Okay,” he said. “But if at any point it becomes too much or you want to stop, just say the word.”

Valaena nodded, her heart racing but her resolve steady. Slowly, she began to undress, her fingers trembling slightly as she unclasped the dragon chain and slipped out of her riding leathers.

She draped them over the back of a chair, followed by her shift, leaving her bare save for the sapphire pendant that was now rested against her chest.

Valaena took a deep breath and climbed into the bed, pulling the fur-lined covers around herself.

Aemond followed suit, removing his leathers, before slipping beneath the blankets beside her.

For a moment, silence stretched between them, heavy with anticipation, until Valaena reached for him. Her touch was hesitant yet eager, her fingers brushing against his arm before trailing upward.

Aemond leaned in, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that quickly deepened, his hand cradling her cheek before sliding into her hair.

As their kiss deepened, Valaena gently tugged him with her as she lay back, drawing him closer.

His body shifted, half-draped over hers, their forms pressing together as the world outside faded into nothingness.

Aemond pulled away from the kiss and began to shimmy down the bed, before lowering his head between Valaena’s legs.

“W-What are you doing?” asked Valaena her voice shaking.

“Shhh ñuha jorrāelagon-” rasped Aemond (my love).

“Aemond-” shrieked Valaena her eyes rolling into the back of her head as Aemond’s tongue swept across her slick wet folds.

Valaena bit her lip to step her from screaming as Aemond began using his long fingers to tease her entrance.

“Let me hear you” groaned Aemond, his own hips rutting into the bed.

“A-Aemond. Oh god. Please” begged Valaena.

“Does it feel good?”

“Yes-yes, so g-good” breathed Valaena, her fingers coiling in Aemond’s silver hair.

Aemond pressed two fingers inside Valaena, moving them against a spot that made her entire body shake, his tongue moving against her folds, his lips wrapping around her pearl.

“I know your almost there. Let it happen my sweet. Peak for me” whispered Aemond.

Valaena arched her back and let out a scream as her pleasure erupted.

Aemond crawled up Valaena’s body, placing gentle kisses on her skin as he moved higher and higher.

Aemond paused when he got to her chest, his hand gently cupping her breast before he sucked the rosy bud into his mouth, his tongue rolling around the stiffened peak.

“Ohhh Aemond” whined Valaena.

Aemond released her nipple with a soft pop and smirked “Do you like that?”

Valaena nodded and blushed furiously when she saw that Aemond’s chin was shining with her slick.

“Calm yourself ñuha nūmio” murmured Aemond (My pearl).

“I-I’m ready” muttered Valaena jumping slightly when she felt Aemond’s cock against her.

“Don’t worry, I’ll go slow” whispered Aemond.

“I-I trust you” whispered Valaena nervously.

Aemond smiled before he knelt between her thighs, supporting himself above her on his forearm while his other hand guides his cock to her wet centre.

“Oooh Aemond” exclaims Valaena.

Aemond slowly pushes the blunt head of his cock inside. Just the tip feels okay but then he’s pushing inside, and it stings, Valaena takes a deep breath and clenches her eyes shut as Aemond keeps moving until his cock fully slides into her, his hips coming to rest against hers.

“Are you ok?” asked Aemond.

“It hurts,” cried Valaena.

“Do you want me to stop-I can pull out” whispered Aemond raising his hand and tracing his thumb over her plump bottom lip.

“N-No g-give me a moment” whimpered Valaena.

Aemond nods, holding himself above Valaena, she can feel his cock throbbing and twitching inside her.

For a few silent minutes, Aemond begins to press gentle kisses all over Valaena’s face and neck, then after the sting has faded somewhat, Valaena gently moves her hips.

“I-I think you can move”.

Aemond exhales shakily, slowly pulling out halfway only to thrust right back in.

“You’re taking me so well-” whispers Aemond soothingly, thrusting again, harder this time.

Gradually he gets into a rhythm, his movements slow but powerful.

Valaena slides her hands up his back towards up to his shoulders, clinging to him as his thrusts shift her up and down the bed. The wooden frame creaking slightly.

Aemond makes a strangled sort of sound and lowers himself onto Valaena even more, kissing her passionately.

His cock still thrusting in and out.

Valaena kisses him back, threading her fingers through his long silky hair.

Aemond breaks the kiss, breathing heavily.

Valaena can feel herself clenching around him as his cock keeps hitting the same spot inside her.

“Ooo Aemond-f-faster. P-please”

“A-Are you sure?” asked Aemond.

“Yes. Please I want to feel you” whispered Valaena.

Aemond groans as he begins to move faster pounding into her, their skin slapping together.

“Aemond-Aemond-”

“You’re so fucking perfect, mine all mine” growls Aemond as he reaches down and circles her pearl with his finger.

“Y-Yes, yours all yours” moans Valaena squirming as her pleasure peaks and she explodes.

Aemond lets out a long low groan, removing his finger as his hips buck wildly. His cock twitching as he spills his seed into her.

Aemond’s hips finally stagger and stop, his cock still twitching slightly. His face buried in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent as he rests for a moment before he slowly pulls out.

Valaena gasps as he slips from her, and Aemond looks down to see a mix of blood and his seed staining his cock.

Aemond slowly climbs out of bed and soaks a rag in the basin of warm water near the fire, he comes back to bed and gently cleans between Valaena’s legs, careful not to hurt her.

“Is this, ok?” asked Aemond.

“I-Its fine” replied Valaena, her cheeks tinged pink as Aemond finishes cleaning her.

He returns to the basin, wetting the rag one more time before cleaning himself and then he comes back to bed, climbing back in and wrapping his arms around Valaena, a sigh of contentment escaping her as she lays her head on his chest.

The room was quiet save for the soft crackle of the fire, the flickering light casting warm shadows over the cabin's wooden walls.

Valaena lay nestled in Aemond’s arms, her head resting on his chest as he held her close beneath the fur-lined blankets. His hand traced lazy circles on her back, and she could feel his steady heartbeat beneath her cheek.

“Are you okay?” Aemond asked softly, his voice gentle as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“I’m fine,” Valaena whispered, her voice still tinged with shyness. She tilted her head up to meet his gaze. “Are you?”

“I am,” he replied with a small smile, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

Valaena traced patterns on his chest with her fingers, her cheeks warming as she hesitated before whispering, “D-did you enjoy it? W-was I g-good?”

Aemond’s brow furrowed slightly in surprise, and he cupped her face with his hand. “I enjoyed it immensely,” he said, his tone steady and reassuring. “Why would you think otherwise?”

“I-I’ve never done it before, and-” she admitted softly, her gaze falling to the hollow of his throat, unable to meet his eye.

Aemond placed a gentle finger against her lips, silencing her. “My experience with Sylvi was nothing compared to what we just shared,” he said firmly. “She was nothing, and—” His voice softened, his eye locking with hers. “-You are everything.”

Tears pricked the corners of Valaena’s eyes as she smiled and whispered, “I love you so much.”

Aemond leaned down and kissed her tenderly. “I love you too,” he murmured against her lips before deepening the kiss, his fingers tangling in her hair.

When they finally parted, Valaena giggled softly, her cheeks tinged with pink. “That thing with your tongue,” she began shyly, “did you learn that—”

Aemond’s cheeks flushed a deep red as he interrupted quickly, “No! I-I asked Aegon for advice on how to-please a woman.”

Valaena blinked in surprise, then laughed softly. “Oh, well, I suppose he is quite knowledgeable on the subject.”

Aemond huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “It’s about the only subject he does excel in.”

Valaena giggled again before her expression grew more serious. “When I get back to Dragonstone, I’ll have to ask Maester Gerardys for some moon tea.”

Aemond’s brow furrowed slightly. “Won’t he tell your mother?”

“No,” Valaena said with confidence. “I trust him. He’s the one who helps send my letters to you.”

Aemond nodded thoughtfully. “Isn’t he the Maester who made that salve for my eye that you sent me?”

“Yes,” Valaena replied. “He’s quite skilled and very knowledgeable about healing methods.”

“That salve worked wonders,” Aemond said, a hint of disdain creeping into his voice. “Far better than the piss-water Maester Orwyle prescribed.”

Valaena laughed softly. “Mayhaps Orwyle has his limits on what he knows.”

“Possibly,” Aemond mused. “Though you should see the state my father is in. That man’s beyond saving.”

Valaena’s expression grew serious as she propped herself up on her elbow, the covers slipping from her shoulders, revealing her bare chest.

Aemond’s eye momentarily lingered, captivated, before she interrupted his thoughts.

“Is my grandsire really that bad?” she asked.

Aemond cleared his throat, trying to focus. “We’re not permitted to see him. Not that he would want to see us anyway. But last I heard, whatever rot has set upon him has taken his right eye.”

Valaena’s lips parted in shock. “Oh, that sounds horrendous. But forgive me for saying-rather poetic.”

Aemond tilted his head, intrigued. “What do you mean?”

“You lost your eye,” Valaena said softly. “And now he’s lost his.”

Aemond hummed thoughtfully. “I don’t suppose he cares either way.”

Valaena lay back down, her expression troubled. “It saddens me greatly that he does not treat you as a father should.”

Aemond brushed a finger over her cheek. “I’ve grown used to his indifference.”

“Still, it shouldn’t be that way,” she murmured, her voice heavy with sympathy.

Aemond’s finger continued to trace her skin, his tone softening. “What’s my uncle like as a father?”

Valaena smiled faintly. “Pretty good. He taught me High Valyrian and gave me lessons on dragon riding. But mostly, he just chases after my mother. The two of them are always kissing, holding hands, and disappearing off to their chambers.”

Aemond chuckled, shaking his head. “And to think, my grandsire believed Daemon was a second Maegor, when in reality he’s just-cuntstruck”

Valaena burst into laughter. “You can say that again.”

Aemond’s grin widened. “Speaking of again-” He shifted closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “I wish to take you again. If you’ll have me.”

Valaena’s laughter faded as she gazed into his eye, her heart fluttering as she felt his cock hardening against her.

She leaned in and kissed him, her voice breathy against his lips. “Of course I’ll have you.”

With that, Aemond rolled on top of her, his lips capturing hers in a passionate kiss, their shared warmth igniting once more as the fire crackled beside them.

Over the following weeks, Aemond and Valaena became utterly consumed by their passion for one another.

Their stolen moments at the cabin became the centre of their world, a sanctuary where they could leave behind the pressures of their families and simply be together.

Valaena often arrived at the cabin before Aemond, her heart racing in anticipation of his arrival.

The moment he stepped through the door, she would launch herself into his arms, their lips colliding in a heated kiss that left no room for words.

Clothes were hastily removed, their eagerness rendering them heedless of where they were.

Many times, they didn’t even make it to the bed, their passion igniting on the wooden floor before the crackling fire.

Sometimes, their passion spilled beyond the walls of the cabin. There were times where Aemond would press Valaena against the side of the cabin, his lips trailing kisses down her neck, whilst he pounded inside her with a series of deep penetrating thrusts.

Or they found themselves on the sandy shore, the waves lapping over their feet and legs as they made love under the stars.

The two of them take the time to learn each other’s bodies, experiencing an intimacy like nothing either of them had ever felt before.

Aemond would trace idle patterns on Valaena’s bare skin, whispering words of love in High Valyrian, and she would smile, her fingers tangling in his silvery hair.

Of course, when Valaena returned to Dragonstone after their encounters, there was always had a cup of moon tea waiting for her, the herbal concoction steaming on the hidden ledge under her desk.

She would hold her nose and down the bitter liquid in one gulp, grimacing at the foul aftertaste.

But it was necessary as Aemond would always spill his seed inside her, and they were both too young to bear the weight of children just yet.

They sometimes spoke in soft whispers of a future where they might be blessed with a babe or two, but for now, Valaena was content, she cherished the time they had together, their secret world of love and desire.

Aemond, too, seemed utterly at peace in those moments, his usual sharp intensity softening when he held her in his arms.

For now, it was enough for the two of them to share their stolen happiness.

Yet a shadow hung over their relationship, growing darker with each passing day. Aemond’s frustration was mounting, his restlessness palpable.

The secrecy that bound them, was becoming like a cage. He yearned for more, for a life where they could be together openly, without fear or restraint.

The ache in his chest when they parted gnawed at him, sharper each time he mounted Vhagar to return to the Red Keep alone. His love for her was all-consuming, and the distance between them was unbearable.

Valaena saw it in his eye, in the way his grip tightened when they said their farewells.

It was only a matter of time before Aemond’s frustrations boiled over—before the simmering anger and longing he held back could no longer be contained.

It happened a few weeks later, after yet another night of passion that left them tangled in the sheets and each other’s arms.

The firelight flickered softly in the dim cabin, their breaths still mingling in the aftermath.

Valaena lay draped over Aemond’s chest, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his skin, their shared silence a comfort.

Aemond then broke the silence with a frustrated sigh. "I’m tired of this, Valaena. Tired of sneaking around. Tired of hiding what we are."

Valaena fingers, stilled and she propped herself up on one of her elbows, looking down at him with a mixture of sadness and apprehension.

"Aemond, you know why we have to keep this secret. If anyone finds out—"

"I don’t care!" he snapped, sitting up abruptly, dislodging her. "Do you hear me? I don’t care what they think. I want to be with you openly. To stand before everyone and say you are mine."

"And what do you think will happen then?" Valaena shot back, her voice rising. "Do you think they’ll smile and bless us? They’ll tear us apart, Aemond! You know this!"

Aemond’s face darkened, and his voice dropped to a dangerous edge. "I refuse to accept that. I won’t let them control my life—or yours."

Valaena’s frustration boiled over, her voice cracking with emotion. "You think I like this? Do you think I enjoy sneaking around like some thief in the night? I hate it as much as you do, but we don’t have a choice!”

“There’s always a choice,” Aemond growled, standing and pacing the small space.

“Is there?” Valaena asked, her tone sharp and biting. “Do you think they’ll just allow us to be together? Do you think our family will just smile and nod? Aemond, wake up!”

He whirled on her, his single eye blazing with fury. “Do not speak to me as if I’m a child, Valaena. I understand the risks better than anyone!”

Valaena stiffened, drawing back slightly to meet his gaze. "We’ve been over this, Aemond. It has to be this way—for now."

"For now?" he scoffed, sitting up and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. He scrubbed a hand over his face, his jaw tight with frustration. "More like forever. Let’s not delude ourselves."

“-Aemond! If we’re discovered, they’ll tear us apart!”

"Then maybe I should find someone else," he spat, the words escaping before he could stop them.

The words hit her like a blow, and for a moment, Valaena could only stare at him, her breath hitching.

“What?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“Maybe I should find someone that doesn’t require me to participate in this ridiculous charade,” he said, his tone biting and cruel, though the pain in his eye betrayed him.

“FINE!” Valaena screamed, tears streaming down her face. “Go! Find someone else! Someone who will parade around with you and feed your ego”

Aemond’s jaw tightened, his chest heaving with anger. “Maybe I will,” he spat, grabbing his tunic and yanking it over his head and then pulling on his breeches and boots.

“GOOD!”” Valaena shouted, her voice cracking. “I’m sure there are plenty of simpering court ladies just dying to spread their legs for you!"

Without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the cabin.

Valaena scrambled after him, tears streaming down her face. "Aemond, wait, please!"

But he ignored her, storming out of the cabin and into the cool night air. He reached Vhagar, hastily climbing the rope ladder.

The old dragon rumbled in confusion at his hurried commands, but obeyed nonetheless, taking off into the night sky.

The rush of wind and the familiar power of flight did little to calm him. His mind churned with anger and regret, the argument playing on a loop in his head.

Aemond then realized, with a heavy pang, that Valaena had been right.

The chasm within their family grew wider with each passing day, and though he loathed to admit it, their love was yet another crack threatening to deepen that divide.

If their relationship was discovered, the fallout would be catastrophic.

Aemond imagined his mother’s stern rebuke, her sharp words dripping with disappointment, mostly likely followed by a sharp slap.

His grandsire would look upon him with disdain, lecturing him on how reckless and idiotic he was, and the danger he posed to his own future.

Aegon, ever the hedonist, would undoubtedly slap him on the back, making some vulgar jest about his conquest, entirely blind—or wilfully ignorant—to the gravity of the situation.

But none of that frightened him as much as what Valaena would face.

The thought of her suffering for their love churned his stomach. He had taken her maidenhead. She was no longer virtuous in the eyes of the lords and ladies of Westeros.

The thought of her being deemed unworthy, rejected for something as sacred to him as their love, filled him with rage.

No highborn lord would take her to wife now, not when her honour was deemed sullied.

The idea of another man even daring to look at her, let alone touch her, sent jealousy surging through his veins like wildfire. His hands clenched into fists, his jaw tightening.

No. He wouldn’t allow it.

Valaena was his—his love, his partner, his heart. She had given herself to him willingly and completely. She was everything he could ever want—the one light in the shadows of his world.

The mere thought of losing her, of never holding her again, shattered him.

Valaena had been his truest friend as a child, the one soul who had understood him when no one else could.

Now, she was his greatest love, the centre of his very being. The weight of it all—their love, the risk, the uncertainty—crushed his chest, making it impossible to breathe.

Aemond clenched the reins, his voice raw as he shouted into the night, "FUUUUCK!"

Vhagar rumbled in response, as though sharing his frustration. Aemond pulled on the reins, turning her back toward Wendwater. His heart pounded as the cabin came into view, with Silverwing still perched nearby.

Relief flooded through him—she hadn’t left.

Vhagar landed with a thud, and as Aemond climbed down the ladder, she gave him a look of reproach. He ran a hand along her massive neck. "Kessa, nyke gīmigon nyke iā mittys," he muttered. (Yes, I know I’m an idiot)

Vhagar grumbled as if in agreement, lumbering off toward Silverwing, who seemed equally displeased, her lashing at the ground.

Aemond took a deep breath and stepped into the cabin. His heart ached at the sight before him. Valaena lay curled on the bed, her face buried in the pillows as she sobbed.

Quickly discarding his clothes, he climbed into bed beside her, gathering her trembling form into his arms.

"I’m sorry," he murmured, his lips brushing her temple. "I’m so sorry, Valaena."

She sniffled, clutching at him desperately. "I thought you’d left me."

"Never," he vowed, his voice cracking with emotion. "Forgive me."

Valaena pressed her face into his chest, her tears dampening his skin. "I do," she whispered after a moment.

Aemond let out a shaky breath, holding her tighter. "You were right. If we’re discovered, they’ll tear us apart, and I’m not sure I’d survive it."

"Me either," Valaena admitted softly. "You are my heart and soul."

"And you are mine," Aemond said firmly.

As they lay entwined in the flickering firelight, Valaena’s tears began to fall again, silent and unrelenting, a reflection of the pain in her heart. Her voice wavered, raw with anguish, as she finally broke the silence.

“I hate this, Aemond,” she whispered, her fingers digging into his back as though anchoring herself to him, desperate to keep him from vanishing into the shadows. “Believe me, I hate every moment of sneaking around. I want so much more for us.”

Aemond’s heart twisted at the pain in her voice. He gently cupped her tear-streaked cheek, his thumb brushing away the wetness. “Then tell me, Valaena,” he murmured, his voice low and thick with emotion. “Tell me what you want.”

Her shimmering eyes locked onto his, and her voice broke as she poured her heart out, the words tumbling from her lips like a flood she could no longer hold back.

“I wish you could stand before the world and declare your intentions to marry me,” she began, her voice trembling with the weight of her dreams. “I wish we could have a ceremony in the Great Sept, with bells ringing and the entire realm gathered to witness our love. I want to stand there, draped in Targaryen red and black, and feel your cloak fastened over my shoulders. To hear you pledge yourself to me, to speak the vows that would bind us forever—and for me to do the same.”

Aemond’s lips parted, his voice barely a breath. “Ñuha jorrāelagon” he murmured softly, (My love).

Valaena’s tears spilled freely now, her voice gaining strength as her longing poured forth. “I want to seal those vows with a kiss, to have our love celebrated, not hidden. I want a grand reception filled with laughter and joy, where our family and friends toast to our union. I want to hold your hand as we sneak off to our chambers, to undress slowly and savour every moment. To make love all night without fear, without restraint, because the world would know we belong to each other.”

Aemond’s throat tightened, his own emotions threatening to overcome him. He pressed his forehead to hers, his touch grounding her even as her words sent his heart soaring.

“I want to feel your seed take root inside me,” she continued, her voice barely above a whisper, her hand moving instinctively to rest on her flat stomach. “I want to carry your child, to feel my belly swell with our love. To see the look of joy on your face as you hold our babe for the first time. To watch you become a wonderful, devoted father. I want a family with you, Aemond. A life where we’re free to love each other openly.”

Her voice cracked as a sob escaped her, and she buried her face against his chest. “I hate this secrecy. I hate the lies and the shadows. But even though it breaks my heart, I’d rather have this—this fragment of a life with you—than nothing at all.”

Aemond’s arms tightened around her as if he could shield her from the world’s cruelty, his own tears glistening in the firelight. He pressed a reverent kiss to her temple, his lips lingering as he fought to steady his voice.

“I vow,” he said, his words thick with conviction, “that one day, we will marry. I will drape my cloak over your shoulders, and I will speak the vows that bind us. Before all who are there to look upon us, I will pledge my love to you, my wife, my Queen-”

He drew back slightly, his gaze softening, a quiet smile curving his lips. “We will have as many children as you desire—beautiful, fierce children. Dragon riders, every one of them.”

“Oh-Aemond,” Valaena gasped, her eyes brimming with fresh tears, her heart swelling with love and hope.

“And when the time comes,” he continued, his voice dropping to a tender whisper, “when we have lived a full, rich life together, I will not leave this world without you. We will go together, so that even in death, our spirits remain intertwined. Our love will be eternal.”

His lips hovered over hers, and he kissed her softly, reverently, sealing his words with a promise as unbreakable as Valyrian steel. When he pulled back, his violet eye held hers, filled with a love so fierce it left her breathless.

“I love you, Valaena,” he whispered, his voice breaking under the weight of his emotions. “I always will.”

Valaena nodded against his chest, her tears soaking his skin as she clung to him. “I love you too,” she whispered, her voice fragile but resolute. “But promise me, Aemond. Promise me that we’ll find a way.”

"I promise," Aemond vowed, holding her tightly as though he could shield her from the world. "We will find a way to be together, Valaena. I swear it."

The End.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

What are your thoughts on the possibility of Petunia redeeming herself or atoning for her abuse of Harry? This is more ramblings and musing then coherent ask, sorry.

You mentioned in a previous post that while she might not love him, she is concerned for her nephew’s safety - as well as that her emotions towards Harry are quite complex (similarly to her emotions towards and relationship with Lily, post-magic revelation).

There are many fics where Petunia does eventually break the cycle of abuse she and Vernon perpetuate on Harry (but usually this is the result of either divorcing Vernon or her husband outright dying), but I’m kind of curious as to what you think in your analysis of her character.

Petunia is a tough nut to crack for me when it comes to fics where she is redeemed.

At the very least, the extreme neglect and enforced silence that Harry is raised in just…it’s terrible when you look at it more deeply than the early books intend.

Which is made worse still by later on, when she swings a frying pan at his head (Chamber of Secrets, I think?).

In the first books, I get that as the target audience was young kids, not much gravitas was placed in Harry’s treatment in the hands of the Dursley’s - they were the bad family he escaped into the magical world from, the anti-thesis to the Weasley family later, meant to seem more caricature and buffoonish.

If that frying pan had hit Harry, though? Depending on how hard Petunia swung it, no matter that she was concerned for Dudley (after Harry didn’t even use magic, just pretended to), that could have killed him.

We know Dudley beat Harry quite often with his friends, and Vernon at the very least threatened to do so (and from some of Harry’s lines, likely went through with said threats at times), but little about Petunia’s abuse of Harry is mentioned except in the very early books - her shaving his hair except for his bangs for example, leaving him to go to school mortified - so there’s no indication that she regularly threatened him physically over the emotional abuse, but still.

Not to mention the potential for neglect/abuse that Petunia herself went through, Lily being their parent’s favored child over her, how that in turn also affected her relationship with her sister, and then how that is turned on to Harry…

Petunia’s character, and redemption/atonement for Harry’s abuse is such an interesting concept.

Personally, I was never interested in a Petunia redemption arc. I think she's just as bad, if not worse than Vernon. So I'm going to have to disagree with you.

It's not that Petunia's sitting there feeling bad about how she and Vernon treat Harry and wish she could stop it — she doesn't. It's very clear throughout the books that she isn't remorseful at all.

Her feelings about Harry are complex because Harry is Lily's son. And as bitter and jealous as Petunia is, I think, she used to love her sister. Used to even be protective of her. So, deep down, I don't think she wants Harry dead or seriously hurt (to her standard), but at the same time, she feels justified in hurting him and treating him as subhuman.

See, Vernon truly does hate wizards. He fears magic, he loves normalcy, and he despises the "freaks" that essentially represent everything he hates. He's straightforward and completely honest in his approach.

The reason I sometimes consider Petunia worse, is becouse she isn't honest, she's a fucking hypocrite.

She wanted to be a witch. She wanted to be special and go to wizard school like Lily. She was jealous of Lily that she got to do magic and go to Hogwarts.

Petunia started calling wizards freaks and latched onto normalcy as a way to cope with not being special. I mean, she was told that magic exists, that there's a whole special world of magic out there, but that she isn't special enough to become part of it.

So young Petunia coped by going in the opposite direction. She became as normal as can be. Started claiming anyone special was a "freak" even when deep down she fucking knows that if she got a chance she'd leave and go to Hogwarts in a heartbeat. That deep down she wants to be special.

She transferred that jealousness and bitterness, then toward the wizarding world as a whole onto Harry personally, which is so unfair. Like, I find it disgusting, I find it disgusting how righteous she feels treating him the way they do. She is very similar to Snape in this regard (projecting her problems with Harry's parent onto Harry), just without any of the redeeming qualities since she isn't even all that smart, and she wouldn't give a shit if all her neighbors died one day (Snape would). And Snape was better to Harry than Petunia, let's be real, being an ass to a kid is not the same as starving a kid and locking him in a cupboard.

But I do want to point out, that she doesn't have the excuse of a cycle of abuse (I'm saying excuse because that's what it is. Tragic backstory can be used to explain characters' actions but it doesn't absolve them) becouse Petunia wasn't abused or particularly neglected. We have no indication she was, and I think it's more likey she was treated well.

We're told their parents loved having a witch in the house by Petunia in PS, but when we see Snape's memories, apparently their parents urged a pre-Hogwarts Lily not to do magic. They feared it until it was explained to them. Petunia is biased in what she says. Because while they were supportive of Lily once they understood, I don't believe they ever mistreated Petunia, and I don't think she is meant to be read as neglected.

I mean, Lily wasn't even home most of the year, Petunia was getting all of their parents' attention year-round, and during the breaks, they probably dotted on Lily because they hadn't seen her in months. This isn't neglect or abuse. This is Petunia being a petulant child who didn't get to be showered in attention all the time because her parents wanted to hear from the daughter they only got to see, like, 3 months a year.

I don't think either Lily or Petunia were abused or neglected, and I find it somewhat silly to try and justify Petunia by giving her a tragic backstory when the books make her reasons to hate Harry very clear. These being jealousy and pettiness.

So, I'm not interested in a redemption arc or atonement arc for Petunia or Vernon for that matter. I think neither of them deserves it and the only atonement I'd be interested in for them is a prison sentence for child abuse and neglect.

Yes, Petunia may not beat Harry physically as often as Vernon or Dudley, but she lets them. She watched him be chased by Marge's dog and laughed. She approved of Vernon's and Dudley's treatment of Harry because if she didn't, she wouldn't have let it happen. She stopped Vernon from throwing Harry out of the house when Dumbledore sent a threatening letter to her in OotP; if she cared to stop the abuse she didn't actively participate in herself, she had the power to do so, but didn't. Becouse she thought Harry deserved it. She mistreated him just as much. Looking at him with disgust and scorn and calling him a freak is abuse. Starving and locking him up is abuse. She isn't any better than Vernon.

The only Dursley I can see redeemed is Dudley. He started his journey in the books (btw, in that scene, Petunia thinks Dudley is "too sweet" for telling Harry he isn't a waste of space) and he actually was a child, like Harry. He did what his parents did like every child does. But he shows signs of improvement after Harry saves him from the dementors. He realizes his parents are full of shit.

So, yeah, Dudley is the only Dursley I'm interested in a redemption for. Petunia and Vernon deserve a prison sentence.

[anemicjellyfish]

Random theorizing and/or speculation post idk.

So I've said it before and I'll say it again. Helluva Boss is pretty damn good at "Show, Don't Tell."

While it isn't entirely devoid of expositional dialogue, it really doesn't seem like they rely on it heavily. Even with a few heart-to-heart moments between characters like Blitzø & Fizzarolli in Oops and Loona & Octavia in Seeing Stars, big dialogue exchanges are kept to a minimum. Character development happens over time and through on-screen events rather than sitting down and talking it all out.

This, combined with the show's tendency to both 1, let events come full-circle and 2, show generational trauma as a way to let characters break free of the molds set for them, is why I think Octavia might get the "Stolas Experience" soon.

Now, I love Octavia. If I could pick a character to make sure the writing team doesn't traumatize, it's her. (This is a No Hate Zone for Octavia and Stolas btw.)

What I mean is that Octavia seems to have been kept from the same expectations that were put upon Stolas his whole life. She appears to make her own choices and express herself in ways that Stolas wasn't allowed. I have a feeling that, now that she is with her mother and uncle, she will be held to a similar standard as her father (at least until she's of age, which is likely 18).

I feel like minimal expositional dialogue will come in to bridge the gaps in her knowledge. Octavia getting told she's "just like her father" as an insult when she's not adhering to new standards.

To bring it to a head, I also like to speculate that Stella will try to arrange Octavia a marriage of her own. When Via pushes back on this, the "just like your father" line may come back. I also think Stella will deliver the final nail in the coffin of Octavia's opinion of her parent's marriage here.

My personal headcanon of the line is something like: "oh, for fuck's sake, Via. All Goetia marriages are arranged. It's not like Stolas and I ever loved each other. *laughter* Andrealphus, could you imagine? Stolas and I in love?! How ridiculous..." (mocking fades into the background as Via processes what she just heard) But this is just fanfic-level stuff that plays in the background of my brain.

Now, to skip ahead just a little. There are very few characters for Octavia to turn to. The most likely candidate for a lot of us is Loona. It makes sense, as they've already shared some screentime & Octavia got some solid advice then. And I don't disagree at all. It's a good choice.

But I like to think Octavia has something in common with someone she despises, but who could never hold hate in his heart for her.

Blitzø and Octavia have some unlikely common ground in severing connections with those they care about most through an emotional response to feeling unloved.

Octavia's song "I Will Be Okay" uses fire imagery to burn photographs to symbolize her readiness to cut off contact with her father after she came to the conclusion that he never loved her.

Blitzø set a literal fire unintentionally when his own father valued Fizzarolli over him, and likely felt that Fizz would never love Blitzø in return.

While the parallel between them isn't completely perfect, Blitzø is uniquely suited to understand a teenager who is scared, alone, and feels unloved.

We know a good deal about the circus fire, but Blitzø really hasn't spoken about it to anyone. It's unclear if he ever went into detail about it to Fizz, and he only vaguely referred to it being "traumatic" when Stolas brought up Blitzø's love of horses.

I personally like to think that Octavia will be the one Blitzø tells about it all. I think he'll obscure the details of a teenage crush to stay on-topic. But the loss of a loving parent (Blitzø's mom/Stolas) and being left with a horrible one (Blitzø's dad/Stella) is something that connects them in ways that both of them don't realize yet.

This doesn't have to fix things. Confronting traumatic events doesn't mean those events no longer happened. Blitzø carries the physical scars of his past with him everywhere he goes, and the emotional pain doesn't always heal without leaving scars of its own.

Octavia could slowly rebuild her relationship with her dad over time. It's not impossible yet. But she is slowly gaining an understanding of how things work in Goetic society; she will likely know soon that she was only born to be an heir out of precaution. So a part of her is always going to be the teenage girl who needs reassurance that she's loved, that she isn't the obligation that she thinks she is.

Sorry for another incomplete post. My thumb is hurting at the knuckle because I over-extended it the other day and it's hard to type on my phone with just one thumb.

[stellaclaw]

i can see your perspective, and to some extent i do agree. some of my favorite character in other fandoms are villains (something i have actually been attacked over lol).

when i say the books lack complexity, i dont mean the building blocks arent there. however, it needs to be heavily contextualized in that the writers often discard what they have- bonefall found an excellent basis the writers had set, but in crowfeathers trial, its often been noted that breezepelts edges are sanded down to make him more agreeable, and thus give an “easier” version to forgive- indeed, what we see of him in dovewings silence is very inconsistent from crowfeathers trial, and his arc is wrapped up rather abruptly and not even from his pov, when it really, truly should have been to give it a satisfying ending. furthermore, when crowfeather blames nightcloud for breezepelt hating him, we are to some extent supposed to accept that nightcloud was a problem. in the guide books shes described as jealous and bitter and coddling, and even on the official website she is assigned adjectives, and thus we are to assume her defending breezepaw from his father is bad and she had some hand in how he turned out.

the reason warriors is loved is because the pieces are there. but the writers continually neglect them, and in the end water down their own writing. breezepelt is one of the very few cases i mentioned where the set up is good enough that it can still shine while the landing was fumbled.

its why i have such trouble giving such leniency to appledusk. there is a trend in the books of such things, and so it is natural to become skeptical of the writers intentions, which im sure is something you can understand.

i can fully accept people wanting to see complexity in appledusk, and hes probably a character i would like in a “messy guy” sort of way, but there is a problem in parts of the fandom where people defend his cheating (usually by portraying mapleshade as a “buff scary woman” and depicting him as small and frail, and positioning reedshine, who he also deceived, as a therapist to him). maybe i can like him some day (i am number 1 frecklewish fan yes she did those bad things and it just adds flavor to her), but ive personally dealt with that sort of… gestures vaguely.

also dw about rambling lol i had no idea where i was going either. also didnt mean to assume, i spent a lot of time in the wcrp forums so my brain is just kind of attuned to read into things. that being said i responded calmly because i do not like to assume actual malice, doing so just makes a meaner fandom space and also prevents interesting discussions like this.

anyway if people are allowed to make excuses for bramblestar and fucking appledusk, I should also get to say that nightcloud did nothing wrong

[brujc]

Spoilers for S2 promo content

Okay guys so I'm gonna be totally honest here it's just gonna be me being a petty bitch and rambling about my first impression on tbhk S2 (from the POV of someone who got into it not a long while ago and stopped the s1 at ep 5)

I would LOVE to say I'm excited about this second season but honestly I am more worried if anything haha...

So...PURELY ANIMATION WISE the op didn't appeal to me like uhh I feel so bad saying that it's like disrespecting the animators but like I mean I just hate how awkward a lot of shots turned out. I mean tbhk's manga art style is like super awesome and it is surely hard as fuck to animate but I really don't think the "thick lines" (idk how exactly to describe ) anime style will do justice to the manga, especially when we consider the pretty action packed and more serious scenes that are to come! I can feel some really clunky movements coming already

Like in this part of the intro, when Aoi and Kane were running towards the group idk why but it felt so... awkward... also this kinda chibified anatomy really doesn't suit some characters.

Like it makes some design choices very questionnable..

Like look at him... Because of the head-bigger-than-body choice he looks a bit weird? Like to be honest he doesn't look like teru at all, if it weren't for his iconic features like the blond hair I wouldn't have recognized him. Where's his prince-ly look? Or idk I don't care if he ain't jaw dropping but his "sharp" vibe and whole hair silhouette is gone..

(I'm super sad like I cannot express how sad I am)

Same goes for Aoi, I don't like how she doesn't have the Aoi vibe, she just looks like some random character (also is it a curse? I feel like she always have shots where her anatomy is super strange like in the flower shot above. Super big head awkward hand position and all)

Even before her major personality reveal she looked less empty than the anime one??? Idk how to express myself

Again with the anatomy, I just genuinely hate it I don't even know why it's just awkward as hell to me ( I said that multiple times already I'm really sorry). The very detailed shading and colors of the clothes and background with this very kid like anatomy and thick outlines just throws me off, idk the characters don't really blend in with the atmosphere (I mean in closer shots, sure but distance/half body shots usually are there most of the time)

I'm sorry I just can't bring myself to like his anime design...the eyes and just everything are so off..

I have a lot to fear but I'm begging please do him justice this season

Baby face again (I mean the characters are young so I might just be a shitty complainer but I just think they don't look good)

Overall I'm super worried for the meaningful scenes in pp arc, they have like chances to be ruined because of clunky animation but I really don't hope so! I can already picture a super awkward fall off the building scene with Kou or super mega awkward escape of the perfect picture with like the bike not feeling fantasy at all.

Anyway I'm losing focus! Ofc there are some fluid shots in the op but I just have the overall feeling that it won't be super good

Sorry for complaining like this but I'm just sad about the adaptation cuz I think some really cool stuff could've been done with the banger base material that is tbhk, so much potential...

I do hope I will be complaining for nothing and that the anime will in reality be very good tho (begging to be proven wrong)

[bethanydelleman]

hi! I finished northanger abbey and do I have thoughts! I really liked it, I'd give it a solid 8.5!

you were right, catherine being a teen girl is relatable, but actually the most "relatable" character I think, is isabella. i genuinely gasped almost every time she spoke because I've met a few isabellas and austen really put it on page. every now and then I almost expected her to say "omg stop teasing meee" or steal James hat/hoodie. she gives me that *friend who leaves you alone at the club while you're drunk to flirt with some rando" vibes. kinda sad because at first she did seem a lesbian in love with catherine.

and john thorphe!! I'll admit he did scare me a bit a few times, him grabbing catherines arm to stop her from exiting the carriage was so creepy. and just like.. him trying so bad to remove her agency and turn her into his little doll. both of them are worse than wickham to me. not necessarily because of actions but like.. they just feel like people who'd be easier to meet irl if that makes sense?

i loved henry tilney so much, you low-key spilled when you said he was the best austen man, im sure. but i will forever be upset that austen didn't delve into his love confession/proposal like whyy.

but God did I love how foils are in this book, with the tilneys opposing the thorphes when it comes to relationships with catherine. her true soulmates!

honestly I kinda wished I'd read this one in my language because perhaps I would have understood the whole subtext re: general tilney better. but I did understand everything so it's fine.

also I have to defend my girl and say she's actually incredibly emotionally smart, she clocks the general and even isabella, she's just in denial for a good while, and james (way more experienced) is led on more than her so im annoyed by the dumb allegations i saw. she's 17 in 1800s leave her alone!

and I love eleanor obv!

alsoo this is kinda off topic but i soo think modern!henry would be a fashion student and modern!catherine would LOVE lisa frankestein! i just know she would. nd it would hit as a concept !

all this to say I really liked it, I'll start with sense and sensibility next! so excited cause I know it's about two sisters so it'll be like getting a book with jane and elizabeth pov! ty btw! your advice was spot on!

Firstly, congratulations on reading Northanger Abbey in your second language! That is impressive. And I'm so happy to hear you loved it.

Secondly, I totally agree about the Thorpes. They really feel like people you could meet today and both of them are so slimy. I think they inspire more genuine feelings of disgust than a more over-the-top villain like Wickham or Willoughby. And they are great foils for the Tilneys, all talk and no substance. The Tilneys are the real, genuine friends that Catherine will value forever.

Catherine does have good instincts. I really think the point is that she identified the evil in General Tilney, she just went a bit far with how that evil would express itself. Some people hate her and call her stupid, but I never would. She mostly got it right.

I hope you enjoy Sense & Sensibility just as much! Report back if you want.

[zot3-flopped]

So i recently listenend to ttpd due to me always listening to all of the people that are at the grammys for this year (i just like checking out people or songs i otherwise wouldn‘t try out)

Here are my thoughts on ttpd:

In one of the songs she calls her fans vipers that called her out for dating matty. And frankly that is a big point i want to touch on. She always talked in interviews that she finds it ok to make sure people know who songs are about cause these men should feel shame. She always makes sure to be obvious so her fans can send hate towards these people. Sometimes she even makes easter eggs to hint at who it is about. Like yes the joke that ts only ever writes about exes is overdone, but she clearly always benefited from it, making this parasocial relationship even deeper. And she does this in a way that i have not seen other artists usually do. Thinking of lana, theweeknd or bruno mars- they write about their exes but you don‘t see them being this obvious and exploiting their relationship.

What i want to say is that while i am a big fan of her songs that have been personal, i don‘t take it lightly that she now suddenly dislikes fans calling her out. Either don‘t allow the fans to come close at all, or accept that you let them in and they now act like your friends who have a say in who you date. She is the victim of the own sphere she made. I don‘t feel sorry for this

I can do it with a broken heart sounds like a midnight made song and with a bit too much ego, which can lead into a place that is iffy because it feels like taylor knows she is too big to not sell well

I also don‘t take lightly that taylor had to mention kim again, which ok fine it has been years but i guess you can still be cut up about it. What i do not let slide is how she uses kim‘s child as a pawn in her play. Bringing children into your beef has always been weird, but bringing the child of your own declared „enemy“ into this to benefit from it, is not of taste. Especially because she knows her fanbase, she knows her fans will dig out said child and send hate. I mean this is like leaving a piece of sugar ourside and then acting like a victim when ants eat it. 

A lot of lyrics or idea of songs do not stick the landing. The lyrics are sometimes like a rambling. Like a person talking to their therapist or their friend. There aren‘t even proper catchy beats behind it. It is like it lacks character and the autonomy that a pop song has to make it memorable and to make it stand out. Like do i go into a ts record thinking it would be groundbreaking? No, ts always played it safe. She never gave me a more ballsy production like lana, lord or billie while also having good lyrics. But i expected at least a core to it, something to remember it by. It is sad because at her height, she can allow herself to be artistically standout ish, she can allow herself to take a step outside of this safe space, takikg an artistic risk, as i have said, because even she knows she is too big to not sell

The writing is crammed and doesn‘t have good hooks or melodies within the lyrics. And i know taylor is capable of delivering on that front usually. Folklore and everymore were lyrically well thought out, you were able to remember the lyrics and melody based only on how she sang the songs. Ttpd suffers under it‘s crammed lyrics and lack of melody even while singing the songs.

Ttpd doesn‘t have the catchy beats 1989 had, nor the buzz red had. Not even the deep cuts from lover can be compared to ttpd because ttpd feels washed out and as i said: 

just like a friend rambling to a friend about how angry she is over one guy making her wait and how he has depression and wouldn‘t commit. And how another guy love bombed her but also couldn‘t commit and she is oh soo angry about this. 

If this is all i can take away from an album with over 30 songs then there is something wrong with it

As i said i usually listen to all of grammy music for several years now, but i have always taken something from it: vocal wise, lyric wise or beat wise

This album sadly didn‘t give me anything and i would be saddened to see it awarded. If all i can take away from a music record is: she was mad as hell

Then what benefit do i get from listening to it? Nothing!!!! 

Ttpd is nothing to me

Ttpd is nothing, it is emptiness but the emptiness isn‘t impressive, isn‘t memorable

Ttpd equals nothing

Very interesting! I don't think for a minute that Poets will get an AOTY award. The reviews all criticised the lack of memorable instrumentation/melodies/production.

[clonerightsagenda]

For PPLN asks: Do you have thoughts about any of the gems or did Steven Universe not come with your Homestuck? If it didn't than you can use this for any HS thoughts you have lying around. Happy New Year!

Love that you chose violence with an ask that drags me back a full decade of my life.

I watched part of Steven Universe but never finished it and mostly just remember the amount of discourse it generated while being a children's cartoon. I see a lot of those "you say you want complex women but you can't even handle [insert characters here]" and frequently roll my eyes when all the characters are from YA novels or kids' cartoons because I start to wonder whether the poster interacts with any adult media, but it's true. They could not even handle Pearl StevenUniverse.

I do think the way the audience gets Rose's character development in reverse is fascinating. Like I said I never finished the show so I don't know if they went into more specifics regarding her motivations but man... your mother died to make you. Was it because she loved you or because she hated herself? You'll never really be able to know for sure. Rose fucked off into oblivion and dumped her newborn baby on her grieving partner and traumatized war veteran aliens, one of whom was her deeply power imbalanced ex-situationship... deadbeat mom of the century. I'm almost talking myself into going back and finishing the show now.

[not-poignant]

Hi Pia

Sorry is this ask is bothersome but I need some advice.

I while ago I was going through a really bad time mentally but found solace in a fandom. I became friends with a person that I met in a particular fandom and they encouraged me to get into fanfiction and it really helped my mental health as a form of escapism.

After about a year I took the plunge into writing my own fanfics for the fandom and at first they were well received. But then a gender swapped the characters.

For context- in this fandom most of the characters are male and almost all the fanfics available are canon compliant in this regard and I so I wanted to explore an au where all the characters were women instead. I posted a few chapters and was excited for feedback but then my friend from the fandom saw my new fic and messaged me telling me to take it down because it was problematic.

I asked them to explain why and they said that changing canon like that just for the "fun" of it wasn't ok and that if I'm going to "mess around with the characters identities" then I should make them trans instead.

I told her I wasn't comfortable making the characters trans because I myself am not trans and don't feel like I am educated enough to write about gender identities/experiences that I haven't gone through and I don't want to accidentally write something disrespectful.

My friend got back to me and said that take was even more problematic. I asked her to explain further because I was really confused by this point but she didn't get back to me.

A few days later I found out she had told all the people in the discord we were in together that I was being problematic regarding canon and I'm guessing she also went to my bookmarks and sent screenshots to everyone of the "problematic" ships and fics I like??

And now I'm getting hateful messages from people who used to be my friends in the fandom and I don't know what to do.

Should I make the characters male again like they are in canon? Or take the fic down altogether?

Hi anon,

So the short answer is:

You can write genderbending. Every fic is problematic somehow to different people and audiences. Trans people don't all agree on genderbending so you're not going to get a single "correct" answer. Don't take down the fic unless you want to. Don't change the fic unless you want to. Get some better friends. It's worth educating yourself further about this subject.

The longer answer is behind the Read More:

Genderbending is complicated and nuanced and there's a ton of discussion about it. I highly recommend you go somewhere like FanLore to check that out. Especially the further reading section, to see multiple sides of the discussion to then decide how you feel.

There are trans people who love cis genderbends. There are trans people who hate them. There are trans people who don't think they should exist. There are trans people who don't give a shit. There are trans people who want more to exist. There are trans people who think only trans people should be allowed to write any kind of genderbend. There are trans people who think no trans person should ever want to write cis genderbend.

My perspective (as a trans person) is closest to this archived Tumblr post linked here.

With this quote from mercurialmalcontent:

Changing a character to the ‘opposite’ cis gender is a very different thing than making them trans or nonbinary. Insisting that people only change characters to trans is also really damn invalidating, because it implies that being trans is interchangable with being cis. Whoopsie doodle!

And then the entire response from roachpatrol, especially:

so like. people now reducing the issue to ‘cis people are gross and hate trans people’ is pretty ridiculous. it ignores basically twenty years of women questioning, confronting and then dismantling the de-facto heteronormative, exploitative male gaze in order to create the radically progressive fandom atmosphere as we know it today on tumblr. 

And then also this from curriebelle:

there’s nothing inherently transphobic about art that explores gender - quite the opposite, I think - and that’s what genderbends are about. It can be hugelybeneficial to imagine male characters as female in order to explore roles that aren’t traditionally given to women

~

I think the main thing is that in fandom, many trans people have been forced to confront how they feel about genderbends (or cis swaps), whereas many cis people never have to think about it due to cis privilege. That doesn't mean writing it is bad by default, it doesn't mean fics that feature it shouldn't exist, and it doesn't mean problematic fanfiction is bad either. Like I said, everything is problematic to someone.

What actually bothers me the most is that people who you think of as "friends" are trying to police you in this way. Obviously I don't know the full story or the content of the fic, so maybe there's greater context going on that I'm missing. But on the surface, genderbends aren't inherently transphobic, even if some trans people don't like them, or feel dysphoria over them existing.

Ultimately genderbends aren't also often about the trans experience. It's really weird for your friends to assume that writing a story about a bunch of cis women, and a bunch of trans women is going to be exactly the same, or that one is inherently "better" than the other. Trans women experience some different issues (depending on the world), and the stories are likely to have different elements to them. And you're right, not feeling comfortable telling a trans story when you're a cis person wanting to write about cis women does actually make a lot of sense. That doesn't mean you can't do it, but it does make it clear why you didn't do it.

Anon, a friend who is quick to tell a whole bunch of people on a Discord server that you're writing a fic with content they don't like is not a friend, let alone a good friend. They might have once been very caring, but their response here indicates they're putting up a chance to seem righteous and 'moral' above actually caring about you or what you have to say. Especially in a situation where honestly a lot of trans people don't agree with each other, but we all mostly agree not to be dicks to people who write this stuff and to just live and let live.

(Also, trans people can write trans fic that other trans folk feel is transphobic! Something that heals and helps one person, hurts another, that's why the rule in fiction for things like this is very much: "don't like, don't read" and also: learn about it, do some research into it, but you don't have to morally justify what you like in fiction and fiction is the place to write this stuff - it is literally pure fantasy. Heck, some trans people love cis swaps precisely because it's a cis swap instead of a specifically trans narrative, the same reason some trans people hate them. We're not all a monolith with one opinion. Thank god).

Going into your bookmarks to reveal the 'problematic' things you like to a bunch of randos screams of anti-nonsense, people who judge other people's morals based off the fiction they enjoy. Folks like this think it's okay to humiliate, degrade and abuse people over what they enjoy in fiction.

Honestly, if it were me, I'd block these people. Trans people aren't magically free from being abusive shitheads, just like everyone else.

Your friend may have been a friend once, but what they're doing now is just shitty. Ironically, it's also pretty transphobic to the trans people who love and write cis swap and also the trans people who love and read it.

[j-partneringrime]

Rachel Amber is such a good character and I don’t get the amount of hate she gets. I feel like people who are judging her based on some of her actions really don’t understand her character, because that’s exactly what happens in the games. In the first game, most people who talk about rachel say how popular she was or how beautiful she was, and how cool she was at parties or how good she was at modelling, almost everything said about rachel from people other than chloe is stuff like that. the way they talk about her to max, who never met her, really seems like they don’t view her a as an actual person and more as an idea, they let their idea of rachel overshadow who she actually was and what she actually did and felt, she was always the popular girl or the party girl or something like that, she was always “rachel amber” instead of just rachel amber (if that makes sense). And rachel leaned into that assumption of her a bit but not in a lying, manipulative way like some people say, but in a similar way to chloe being known as a trouble maker and a rebel, which made her act like that more than she would’ve normally, without that expectation of her. It’s just so heartbreaking to see after rachel’s death that most people who she knew, when asked about her, don’t actually talk about what she was actually like as person. And that’s shown even more while she was alive in BtS, that everyone has an idea of her but no one truly knows her, even her parents think of her as their perfect, smart, polite, always good daughter, which isn’t who she is, I mean it’s part of her and everything else people think of her aren’t lies, but they’re only part of her. And chloe is the only person we ever see rachel fully open up to and when talking about rachel, actually talks about what she was like as person and the full person what she was, not just the idea that people got from her. That’s why it’s so sad and mischaracterising when people say she was using chloe and manipulating her, because chloe was the only person she ever let her herself fully be free with and without any expectations of her, including her own parents. I don’t understand how people can see their relationship and think it’s all fake from rachel’s end, especially since the ending of BtS and the big final decision is about the trust they have in each other and how rachel trusts chloe completely, because the final choice of whether to tell her the truth or not is very much framed as either don’t tell her and save her the pain of losing her father, which chloe understands and also knows how much rachel needs her family right now, or do tell her because rachel has complete trust in chloe and to not tell her would be to betray that trust, and to betray the only real relationship rachel has, and to view that thinking rachel doesn’t care about chloe removes all meaning from that moment. That moment is literally about how much trust rachel has in chloe and how much she cares about her and the choice you make is deciding if you are going to be worthy of that trust and love that rachel is giving you or if you’ll betray it and hide something incredibly meaningful from her when she needs someone to be there for her more than ever. And I feel like that trust between them is what ends up helping rachel open up more after BtS and what lets rachel let down some of walls when she and chloe hang out with other people, like steph and mikey or justin and trevor. Rachel is an amazing character who deserved much better from both in universe and real life. She deserved to live, she deserved to get out of Arcadia bay with chloe, she deserved to meet max and she deserves to be seen as she is by the fandom instead of the strange evil and manipulative idea some have of her. Rachel Amber is an amazing character, and deserves all the love <3

Also the argument at the junkyard, really shows just how much people’s perception of rachel affects her, that chloe, who she has never really spoken to before and only interactions are yesterday at the concert and today skipping school, both of which are good days for them and go against what people think of rachel, after all that chloe still pushes and kind of forces the ideas and assumptions about rachel on her, even though none of her experiences with rachel fit that perception of her, she still uses it against her, because that’s just how she’s known sadly. Which I don’t fully blame chloe for because both her and rachel weren’t in the best mindset during that fight and literally everyone has that perception of her so chloe leaning into that perception of her is believable but you know, it still happened.

(btw these are more my thoughts about her from an in universe perspective, not how she was written irl, because I know some of the stuff I mention, like how people talk about her in LiS 1, is because of the story and how her character is purposefully written and meant to be viewed)