#[italics are like

[lastweekgifs]

[yuwuta]

please feed us some yuuji blurbs there’s a lack of him rn :(

ofc… sweetest boy all time… here’s something was was meant to be a longer project but got lost in the editing whirlwind… love him so bad... 

NEVER LOST IN TRANSLATION, BECAUSE YOU KNOW WHAT I WANT 

notes: reader is implied to be american/english-speaking, yuuta and megumi are bilingual, yuuji, bless his soul, is not. i didn’t use italics for conversations between yuuji and megumi because it would all be in japanese, but when they get mixed later in the scene, japanese is differentiated with italics. hope that’s not too confusing lololll

Honestly, Yuuji tried his best in school. Some things came easier than other, but with a bit of hard work, and help from his friends, he always managed to pull pretty good grades. But right now, his biggest regret is not taking english more seriously in high school, because it’s been about three weeks since he met you, and he’s only been able to say maybe five full sentences to you without the help of Yuuta or Megumi translating. 

He was excited when Yuuta said his friend from abroad would be coming to visit and study, but god, he didn’t expect you to be so pretty. To have such pretty eyes, and pretty lips, and pretty hair, to have the prettiest voice in the world despite him only understanding every eighteenth word you say. You’re beautiful to him, and Yuuji thinks that even if he could speak your language fluently, the words would still get caught in his throat. He’s so lovesick, it’s embarrassing—his friends have been harping on him blushing and stuttering over you for the past month, and he can’t even blame them.

“What does she say to you when you guys talk,” Yuuji whines, hovering around Megumi, and not-so-discreetly looking back at you where you’re still sat in the living room laughing with Yuuta, “Does she ever say anything about me? I mean—probably not right? Which is fine! Actually, dont tell me—no, do. Or maybe—”

“She asks about you,” Megumi says, matter-of-fact in delivery, as he places a bag of popcorn in the microwave, but that doesn’t curb Yuuji’s enthusiasm. He’s practically bouncing, if he weren’t already—begging Megumi to spill the details, “What did she ask? Tell me! Tell me!” 

“She once asked if you dye your hair.”

“That’s it?!” Yuuji screams, heartbroken, and visibly deflating.

Megumi shrugs, “Yuuta probably knows more. She’s his exchange buddy friend thing, so ask him.”

“I can’t ask him, he’s right next to her!” Yuuji pouts, “Wait, what does ‘exchange buddy friend thing’ mean? You don’t think they’re more than friends, right…? I can’t blame her, senpai is really pretty, too, and he can actually talk to her… so unfair.” 

“You know, she’s not fluent, but she can understand some Japanese,” Megumi reminds him, “So, she can definitely hear you, and probably understand you.”

Yuuji’s shoulders slump, and once again, he turns around to look back at you. This time, you two make eye-contact, and that instant, Yuuji’s cheeks go pink, a nervous hand raised to wave at you, and instant internal regret at his actions; but, then you smile, and wave back, and Yuuji stays like that, dumbfounded and lovestruck and on autopilot as he waves with hearts in his eyes until Yuuta looks up from his phone and catches him.

Embarrassing. He knows he’s not the brightest, but he’s at a record high of self-embarrassment since he’s met you.

Yuuta finds himself chuckling when Yuuji spins around and goes back to prodding Megumi with questions. When you turn to face him again, it’s with a shy smile.

“I told you you’d like him,” Yuuta grins—the kind that seems sweet and innocent, but has just a kiss of that all-knowing tease to it; the kind that reminds you that he’s truly related to Satoru.

“Oh, be quiet,” you grumble, tucking your legs in and resting your chin on your knee. You spare another glance in Yuuji’s direction, for once, grateful for the language barrier between the two of you, when you turn back to Yuuta to proclaim: “I can like someone and not do anything about it. You’re real good at that, aren’t you?”

Yuuta’s slightly cocky grin falls into a scowl, and now you get to smile when he argues back, “We said not to bring up he who shall not be named in the presence of my friends!”

“Then don’t bring up my he who shall not be named in the presence of him!”

“Aren’t Americans all about forging new frontiers and chasing after your dreams?” he taunts, “Well, your dream is right in front of you.”

“My dream right now is to kill you.”

“Lucky for me, you’re going to have to hold off on that because your lover boy is approaching.”

You don’t have time to argue back with Yuuta when Megumi and Yuuji approach the living area with snacks in tow. Yuuta scoots to the tail end of the couch under the guise of giving Yuuji space to place the popcorn and nuggets in the center of the coffee table, but he has just enough time to flash you a wink before Yuuji settles in between. Megumi opts for the loveseat closets to Yuuta’s end of the couch, and you do your best not to reach over Yuuji and strangle Yuuta.

The boys decide on watching a movie you’ve never heard of, but Megumi reassures you it’ll be easy to follow and has English subtitles. You don’t mind, settling in to your corner of the couch with a handful of popcorn just as the title-screen for Human Earthworm 3 rolls across the TV.

You can follow along well-enough—even without subtitles, you get the gist of the movie. What you really find entertaining is Yuuji, who occasionally blurts out a comment or exclamation, or audibly coos whenever something sad is happening on screen. He’s almost as animated as the characters; you’re more of the silent-watcher type, but you find yourself endearing by this commentary, even if you can only understand parts of it.

You particularly appreciate the way that after every comment, he either motions to Megumi, or turns to you himself to repeat his thoughts in his best broken English, and even when you don’t understand his words, you understand him. His emotions are all on his sleeve: frustration, happiness, confusion, curiosity—communication between you two should be more difficult, but Yuuji makes it easy.

It gives you the confidence you cough out your own observation, “You, um… you’ve… seen the others? You seem to like this series.”

Across the room, Megumi and Yuuta hold their breaths, opting to not translate for you when you switch from Japanese to English. Yuuji is quiet for a moment, turned to face you with a slightly confused look on his face that makes you nervous, until his eyes brighten up and he smiles and begins nodding fervently—“Yeah—yeah, I do! It’s my… hm how do I say it… Oh! It’s my favorite!”

Between the smile on his face, the blush on his cheeks, and sincerity in his voice, you feel like you’re wrapped up in his world. It’s a little confusing, and scary, but it’s not all that bad. Maybe you can do something about it, eventually.

“I.. I think I like it, too.”

[glittergroovy]

[thresholdbb]

Odo, you ain't slick

[jameslongforjimshortforgabriel]

i think we need a second to appreciate daniel's little notes on louis' "household help"

'three cars for little ol' me?' you are a grown ass man

[slasherscream]

I love your writing! And you just get my craziness and character obsessions. I was thinking what would happen if reader had a bruise cheek or lip, and refuse to tell them what happen. Then they discover that the reader was the one who beat the shit out of someone for saying something about their partner, and how proud yet pissed off they will be. I’m think Crazy Ass Girls Gang, need more possessive and protective FMC. Thank you!

warnings: yandere behavior - YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

Tiffany Valentine - Tricks you into thinking she’s gonna be normal about it. She purses her lips when you won’t tell her anything, but quietly rushes off to get the first-aid kit. WATCH OUT! You have just activated a trap card: emotional manipulation. Her most powerful weapon. She’ll silently and dotingly take care of you. Disinfectant. Gentle Hands. Careful bandaging. Petulant silence. Painkillers lovingly dropped in your hand. Big sad eyes staring up at you. When you inevitably break and tell her what happened she could melt! She does melt, straight into your arms. You’re gonna be covered in lipstick by the time she’s through with you. Her hero. Don’t worry, she’ll help you clean up… eventually. Later, you’ll have to help her clean up too. It was so romantic of you to fight for her honor…. But she'd never let someone live after they hurt you, silly.

Jordan Li - Won’t drop the line of questioning until you’re damn near ready to fight her too. She hates that you’re hurt. She loves that you wanted to defend her. Jordan gets a lot of criticism, sometimes it seems never ending. The fact that you feel so strongly about protecting her, not because you think she can’t fight her own battles… but because she shouldn’t have to do it all alone? It means a lot. Still, she doesn’t want you getting into fights. Let alone fights over her. It doesn’t matter how badly you hurt the other person. If there are marks on you Jordan is going to go find them for round two. “You like to put hands on people?” Words spoken seconds before disaster (she’s ignoring the fact that you started the fight. Jordan could give a shit about semantics.)

Nancy Downs - Don’t wanna tell her? Cool! Get ready to experience her favorite couple’s activity besides shoplifting: abusing your coven bond to read your mind! Hooray! It will hurt badly. Because Nancy always makes it hurt when you keep her out on purpose, or hide things from her (or when she thinks you’re doing that.) But don’t worry, after she realizes how sweet you really were, she’ll make you feel all better. Cooing over you as much as she ever allows herself to coo. Cleaning your cuts. Healing you with her magic. Trying to ease the fever that always comes whenever she uses your bond in a way she shouldn’t. She thinks you’re the stupidest, sweetest thing. You’re witches. You don’t have to use your fists anymore to win fights. She leaves you with the coven and goes to enact a witch’s vengeance on whoever dared to lay a finger on you. 

Jennifer Check - You’ll try not to tell her but she immediately starts making such wild accusations you have to just come out and admit to why you’re injured. “I can smell someone on you. If you wanted to get beat up to get your rocks off you should’ve just told me, I’d happily beat the shit out of you.” Start talking quickly! She looks like she’s about to start fulfilling that nonexistent wish now. Once you tell her she has to suppress a smile. She’s a demon. She doesn’t need you playing knight in shining armor over what some jealous, mouth-breathing, loser is saying about her… but, it’s kinda hot that you did. She’ll show you just how hot she thinks it is. Then you two are gonna take a nice little drive, and you’re gonna point out the jackass who put bruises on you. She’ll fuck you again after she’s full. “Thanks for finding my next meal, baby.” 

Victoria Neuman - Victoria expects you to have better self control than this. Not telling her what happened isn’t an option. Ever. The look on her face when you first try and insist that nothing happened is enough for you to quietly admit you got into a fight. Her blood pressure sky-rockets. You two have an image to maintain. You’re her spouse. She has enough problems as it is. She’s thinking of viral videos, nightly news, seedy gossip magazines doing think-pieces: do we really want this person standing behind the president as first spouse? When you tell her you fought one of the Boys for trying to convince you she’s a monster? Well…. She goes a little softer. Victoria will pull you into the circle of her arms and thank you for being so loyal to her. She means it from the bottom of her heart. She’s also dreaming of the day she can pop their fucking heads. Touching you. Talking to you. Trying to turn you against her… they’ve crossed her last line. 

Carrie White - The moment she sees you she’s in hysterics: “Oh, Angel, what happened?!” You’re really gonna sit there and not tell her anything? She’s worked herself into an anxiety attack within seconds. She can hardly open the first aid kit, she’s shaking so bad. The sound of your voice is always so soothing for her that you’ll start telling her the story just to have something to say. She listens quietly while she cleans you up. You’ll have to pull her into your lap before long, and kiss her gently. You’re all she has in the world and it scares her to death to think of you putting yourself in unnecessary danger. You’ll fall asleep curled into each other’s arms. You whisper soft reassurances: “Nothing’s gonna happen to me / I’ll always be here.” Carrie tries her best to listen. You’ll wake up alone, but wander downstairs just as Carrie walks through the front door. She wanted to get her knight in shining armor some breakfast from your favorite diner down the street. She watches you eat with a big smile, and thinks about how she’ll have to burn those clothes in the trunk of the car. She couldn't risk them trying to hurt you again.

Ginger Fitzgerald - Don’t piss her off. If you don’t tell her exactly who touched you she’ll rip the entire city apart. Women, children, men, everyone. Anyone. “Do you want me to do that? Huh, baby? Is that what you want me to do?” No? Then start talking. She won’t be able to see through the blood-lust long enough to take care of you. As soon as you say a name Ginger’s out the door. She’ll only return once she’s thoroughly covered in viscera and gore. She’s still dripping with it when she crawls into bed with you, smearing the blood across your body. She’ll lick at any injury you have, until they’re clean and closed, your skin smooth and unblemished. She’s the only thing that can leave marks on you. She’ll kill anything else that tries. “You don’t have to lift a finger for me, baby. If you want someone hurt, I’ll do it. I’ll do anything for you.” Just run your fingers through her hair and try not to cringe as your fingertips get stained red. 

Patricia (Split) - She’s devastated by the state you come home in after she allows you to go out on a walk all by yourself for the first time since you were…. taken. You’d been so good for her. So obedient. So sweet. She wanted to reward you. And now your eye is starting to bruise, and your clothes are all askew, and your knuckles are swollen. Her calm demeanor cracks, and it’s a struggle to stay in the light. She takes deep breaths, centers herself. None of the others are what you need, right now. You need her. She strips you down, runs you a bath, won’t even let you hold the washcloth. It’s only as she’s patting you dry that she can force out words, finally: “What happened to you, sweet thing, hmm?” The guilt nearly brings her to tears. Months of keeping you close and look at what just a pinch of negligence has done to you… You try to assuage her guilt. You tell her you ran into a neighbor, who’d seen the two of you out together once Patricia trusted you enough to accompany her for little things like grocery trips. You say it’s your fault you came back to her in this condition. That you just couldn’t stand the vile things they said about her. Her face drops into an expression you’ve never seen. It’s gone in an instant, replaced by that comforting, ever present smile she wears for you. She takes you by the chin and kisses your forehead: “My little sweet thing. Playing knight, are you?” You had her love before. Tentatively, you had something like trust. Now Patricia trusts you completely. Even so, you won’t be going out alone again. Patricia trusts you. But it’s clear she can’t trust the world to be gentle with you. Don’t worry, though. All you need to do is ask, when you want to feel the sun on your face. You never see that neighbor again, no matter what time of day you and Patricia go walking.

A/N: thank you!!! we need more batshit crazy women with something wrong with them! Batshit crazy women with something wrong with them unite! if you enjoyed these headcanons consider reblogging, leaving a reply, or an anon! a writer's fuel is engagement. Xoxoxo

[cinnabarts]

i like to draw the slime

[aroaessidhe]

YA contemporary books with ace & aro boys

mostly normal contemporary but a couple are thriller/horror/survival!

Wren Martin Ruins It All - ace mlm MC

The Loudest Silence - 1/2 MCs is an aroace boy

Compound Fracture - aroallo trans boy MC (this is a little bit paranormal too)

The Rhythm of My Soul - 1/3 MCs is an aroace boy (+ aroace girl MC)

Aces Wild - ace MC (+ other ace/aroace SCs)

Bad At Love - 1/2 MCs is a demisexual boy

Don't Let The Forest In - ace mlm MC

It Sounds Like This - greyaro/greyace major SC (+ aspec MC)

If You Still Recognise Me - ace SC

Liars Guide to the Night Sky - aroallo 'love interest'

more YA contemporary with aspec boy side characters: Darling (K. Ancrum, ace) The Witch King (demi), Ophelia After All (ace), The Unpopular Vote (ace), The Revolution of Birdie Randolph (ace), Belly Up (demi), Ride or Die(demi), Radio Silence (demi), Exit Plans for Teenage Freaks (ace), (so many side characters...so few MCs....)

#aspec books / aspec database / tumblr masterpost

[genderkoolaid]

one of my pet peeves is in historical fiction (or modern fiction taking place in a made up country) when they'll graft UK accents onto everyone. like everyone in rome uses british slang and the lower class is full of scottish people. i love the regime (hbo television show) but it also does this and it's wild. i want someone to do this with american accents so it can be obvious how stupid it is. have a movie set in a fictional eastern european country where the sexy foreign prince talks like one of the succession guys and his servants are new yorkers.

[the-broken-pen]

love your writing yo can I ask for a little hurt-comfort mlm

“Oh. Oh. That’s—that’s a lot of blood,” the voice above him sounded strangled, like they were choking on every word.

The hero cracked an eye open, dizzy and cold and tired, and hummed something that could have been an agreement.

“Hey,” he said, voice raw, and his friend stifled a sob as they collapsed onto their knees at his side.

Their hands pressed hesitantly against the wound, and they were trembling. His hands were slick with blood. It took everything in them to drag them, shaking, to rest on top of his friends, and press down hard.

The pained noise he made caught in the back of his throat. Just barely.

“You have to press harder,” he managed. The pain had swelled to something almost unbearable. He was drowning in it, to the point where it was almost the kind of pain where it became something wretched, something else that swallowed you whole. “The bleeding, it—“ he had to stop, gasping for a breath.

His friend had started crying, but they pressed harder, dutifully. He loved them for it.

“I don’t know what to do,” they sobbed. “You don’t do hospitals. What do I do.”

He let go of his friends hand, digging for his pocket. His grip slipped the first two times; he managed it on the third, sliding his phone onto his stomach.

“Speed dial,” he offered, and closed his eyes before the look on his friend’s face made him vomit.

“Speed dial? Speed dial. Okay. Okay,” his friend said. “It’s fine. Everything is fine.” He was certain his friend wasn’t saying it to him. Their free hand scrambled for his phone.

By the time they managed to get it to ring, the world around him had turned into something muffled and cotton around him.

“You? You’re his speed dial—don’t…I don’t know what….bleeding…not responding…please, just….”

A crack cleaved the air, the smell of ozone suddenly stronger than the smell of his own suffering, and then a hand was replacing his friend’s. The other found the side of his face, thumb curving under his jaw.

“Hey,” and oh, he knew that voice—something raw in his chest eased. “Can you open your eyes for me?”

He managed, just barely, and the villain peered down at him.

“Hey,” he croaked.

“You’re bleeding out,” the villain said, and it was the softest he’d ever heard him. “You need care, or you’re going to die. Can I move you?”

Do you trust me?

“Always,” he tried, but it came out weak and desperate.

The villain pressed harder, and he keened high and pained in the back of his throat. On instinct, his hand darted up to the villain’s wrist, latching on too tight for anyone without superpowers to handle. The villain didn’t flinch.

“You’re okay,” the villain murmured. His thumb brushed over the hero’s jaw, soothing.

There was something the hero was forgetting—

“My friend,” he choked out. “Where—are they—where—“ he struggled to sit up, and the villain simply guided him back down.

“They’re fine,” the villain promised. “I sent them home. Maybe a little traumatized, but they’re okay.”

“Okay.” The hero nodded to himself, or he tried, or he didn’t. “Okay. They’re okay, okay, I’m—“

“Okay,” the villain finished for him, and even half sick in pain the hero could tell he was intentionally keeping his voice easy. “You’re okay. You’re going to be just fine, I promise.”

His hand shifted underneath the hero’s back.

“Breathe for me?” The hero tried, and managed a half wheeze. The villain just nodded. “Good. This is gonna suck.”

His other hand wormed its way underneath the hero’s knees. He blinked, trying to clear his blurry vision, and the villain stared at him. Barely disguised concern was written into every inch of him, like the only thing his bones could remember was panic. For him.

The villain was scared for him.

That was bad.

“What’s going to suck—“

The villain hauled him upwards, and his vision went white.

He woke up some time later, chest heavy and head floating somewhere above his body.

He hummed something that might have been a question, and the villain was above him in an instant.

“Are you in pain?”

The hero blinked at him for a moment. Mostly because he couldn’t really remember how to do anything else. The world felt sluggish. A second delayed behind normal. Which should have been concerning, panic worth and world ending, but it simply just…was.

“No,” he said finally, and his voice sounded weird. His throat ached, separated from him by a wall of warmth. “I was screaming?”

The villain swallowed, hard, and the hero managed to drag his gaze down to the needle and thread clutched in the villain’s hand.

“Yeah.” The villain sounded like he was choking on the words. “You were screaming.”

He opened his eyes whendidheclosethem and peered upwards again. He was on a couch. Or a bed? Bed, he decided a second later. The villain was kneeling next to him, and there was something soft tucked around his legs. He went to sit up, look down at his stomach; the villain’s hand came up to rest on his forehead, gently keeping him down. He must have made some noise of displeasure, because a moment later, the villain’s hand carded through his hair.

“Easy,” he murmured, focusing back onto the hero’s side. He heard the snip of thread; the sound of the villain throwing something onto a side table without care.

“What did you give me?” The hero’s tongue felt thick in his mouth.

“Lots,” the villain said.

“Lots,” he said back, managing to sound more incredulous than he actually cared to feel at the moment, and the villain snorted. “Haven’t heard of that one before.”

“Had to make something special for the boy wonder,” the villain smoothed a hand down his side, and the hero half leaned into it. Mostly he managed to sink further into the mattress. “You burn through shit fast, you know?”

The hero did know. He knew very well, unfortunately.

“Thanks,” he managed. His head lolled to the side without his permission, resting against the villain’s arm.

“You’re going to pass out again,” the villain informed him. He made a noise in the back of his throat that could have meant anything. The villain seemed to understand regardless.

Am not, he tried to say.

The haze of medication and blood loss stole him first.

The next time he woke, he was half sprawled against the villain’s side. Something cold was set onto his cheek, and he reached up to remove it, hand clumsy. The villain caught it before he managed to remove anything.

“You spiked a fever,” he said quietly. “I just got it back down. That’s probably why you woke up. How are you feeling?”

That was…a lot.

“No pain,” he said eventually. He thought he felt the villain give a heavy sigh of relief.

The world was clearing itself up bit by bit, settling the furniture back into the correct places until it no longer felt like things were sliding around him.

The villain’s hand was back into his hair again.

“Good,” the villain said, but the hero wasn’t really sure it was meant for him.

Something in his chest loosened.

“I thought I was going to die,” he admitted, and he wished his tongue was still numb, because the villain stilled, hand curled in his hair.

“That’s not what you told your friend.”

And yeah, the hero half remembered the pieces of that. A promise he was okay. Everything would be fine. He was always fine, wasn’t he? How strongly do you have to will to will someone to stay. Exactly how many pounds of force does it take to stop someone from bleeding out—

There was a chill curling itself around his ribs.

“I thought I was going to die,” his voice was raw. It wasn’t because of his throat. He sounded afraid, even to himself.

“I would never have let you do that,” he managed a moment later. His hand resumed in his hair.

And somehow, despite the knowledge of how hard it truly was to save someone, how long it took to learn that kind of information, the knowing of exactly what was survivable and what couldn’t be escaped, how strong you had to be to shift through rubble—the hero believed him.

“I know,” he said, because the villain had to know. That he believed him. That he would always believe him.

He melted into the villain’s side.

I trust you, I trust you, I trust you

The villain hummed, in that way of his that told him he understood exactly what the hero couldn’t vocalize.

“I’m your #1 speed dial?” He questioned after a moment.

The hero huffed a laugh.

“You’re my only speed dial.”

The villain froze.

And then he was shifting, pulling the hero closed to him. The villain tucked him close, chin settling onto the top of his head. The hero pressed his face into the hollow of the villain’s neck.

“I will always come,” he said, and this time, his voice was the one that was raw. “You call, and I will be there.”

He said it like it was easy. Like it was that simple.

Maybe it was.

Maybe for them it always had been.

A fondness he couldn’t put words too settled onto his shoulders.

He simply breathed into the villain’s neck, and the villain’s arms looped around him a bit tighter.

“You’re okay,” the villain said into his hair. Like he was confirming it.

“I’m okay.”

“You’re lucky you have super healing.”

“I’m lucky I have you.”

The villain laughed softly.

“Suck up.”

“And what? You gonna stop me?”

He could practically feel the eye roll. “Been trying for years. Hasn’t stuck.”

“Well, you had the perfect opportunity—“

The villain hushed him.

“Just. Shhh for a bit,” he said softly.

The hero, obediently, shhh’ed.

The villain’s hand ran through his hair again, and his eyes shuttered closed, settling further against the villain’s chest.

“Cheater,” he murmured, and the villain huffed a laugh, but didn’t deign a response.

And together, comfortably, curled around one another like two halves of a whole, they just breathed.

[joessillyadventure]

Back on that lalogus grind maybe 🤫🤫

[sherokutakari]

Okay okay okay but like

Everyone out here talking about Crowley's hinted at memory problems. How he remembers Heaven and making the stars, but not working with Saraqael. How he remembers going into battle, but not with Furfur. How he doesn't seem to remember Aziraphale in Eden, even though it turns out they met at the Pillars of Creation. How he knows what it's like, looking where the furniture isn't. Memory fussing. Clearly something Heaven Does.

But no one is talking about that Heaven's memory wiping was only mentioned once directly. And only in reference to Gabriel, who was explicitly not being cast down to Hell, but demoted.

Like some Cherub-turned-Principality, which could be either a promotion or demotion, depending on what Angelic Hierarchy you subscribe to?¹

What if the reason Crowley and Aziraphale's meeting in Eden seemed so first-meeting-ish not just because only Crowley's memory was messed with?

What if Aziraphale's memories had been also?

Neil said that these two had known each other for a LONG time between the s2 meet cute and the beginning of actual time/their meeting in Eden.² Surely Crowley would have given his name at SOME point if that were the case. And we know Aziraphale had a hard time switching from Crawly to Crowley, so even if he assumed his newly Fallen friend had intended to choose a new name, there's almost no way he *wouldn't* have just called him by whatever name he already knew him as. Why does he wait for Crawly to introduce himself, instead of just referring to him as Raphael, or Baraqiel, or Kokabiel, or Jophiel or whatever your favorite Proto-Crowley Angel Name is? And why does it seem like they don't even know each other, even a little bit?

What if they knew each other super well in Heaven, and after the Battle, both had their memories mucked about in, and both got Demoted??

What if in Eden they were meeting for the first time again, and they still ended up choosing each other over Heaven and Hell????

What if nothing the powers of Heaven and Hell can do can keep these two Inefffable Idiots apart????

Please help I'm .__o.>-<

[sunsetsandsunshine]

Hey!! For your next fic could you do Leo and Mikey angst

It came be 2012, MM or rise

~ 𝚈𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 ~

💙🐢🧡 𝙵𝚒𝚌 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢: @tmntalways 💙🐢🧡

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙷𝚒, 𝚃𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚕𝚎𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍!!! ��� 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚋𝚛𝚘 ☹️💔…𝙸 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚊𝚍 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝚃𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚛 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 💖💕💘💞🩷!!! 𝙰𝚕𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑, 𝙸 𝚍𝚘 𝚊𝚍𝚖𝚒𝚝 𝙸’𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛’𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 😅👍🏾! 𝙸 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛’𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚍— 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 🫠…˚*• ̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*＊·̩̩̥͙

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙷𝚞𝚛𝚝/𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝟹,𝟸𝟾𝟾

𝙻𝚎𝚎: 𝙼𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚢 🐢🧡

𝙻𝚎𝚛: 𝙻𝚎𝚘 🐢💙

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙼𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚢’𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐…𝚞𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍…𝚞𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚣𝚎𝚍, 𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎…𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚠𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 '𝚞𝚗'. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕? 𝙷𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚐𝚘 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢…

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚜: @shut-up-jo @someone1348 @saturnzskyzz

@savemeafruitjuice @rice-cake-teen10 @mistyandsnow

@skyloladoodles @itzsana-kiddingmenow @titters-and-tingles

(𝙰/𝙽: 𝚂𝚠𝚒𝚖𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚊 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝…𝚋𝚞𝚝 *𝙰𝙷𝙴𝙼* 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢: 𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚐𝚞𝚢! 𝚃*𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚔/𝙽𝚂𝙵𝚆 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚜 𝙳𝙽𝙸!!!)

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚂𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚍𝚎𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜, 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏-𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚖 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝙿𝙻𝙴𝙰𝚂𝙴 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚔!!!

𝚁𝙴𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚁: 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝙰𝙳𝙷𝙳 𝚊𝚗𝚍/𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌!!! 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚒𝚝 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢 ☺️💞💗💓💕

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙰𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚍 🕺🏾✨💞🎶˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

Mikey couldn’t do anything right now. Like…anything.

Well…perhaps he was being a bit too dramatic. He was breathing. And he was fidgeting with his squishy cube. So saying he wasn’t doing 'anything' wasn’t entirely true.

Right now he just…couldn’t do anything…productive. 

For example, the box turtle tried making his favorite dishes and deserts! But that endeavor just ended up being a huge mess in the kitchen…and leaving the youngest turtle with a bunch of unappetizing food. 

Which he fed all to Raph by the way. 

Some would call that choice of action cruel but Mikey would just call it 'using his resources'. 

Besides, it’s not like the eldest minded at all. He said, and I quote: 'It has a nice…crunchy feeling to it. Did you put some of Don’s inventions in this?'

Which honestly got a couple of chuckles out of the smallest turtle teen of the bunch.

Then, Mikey tried skateboarding! But for once in all his 14 years of living…it was just utterly boring. 

And after all of that nonsense, Mikey then finally tried reading a comic…but he was too unfocused to even get to the second page…

But what was really new? Mikey could never focus on jackshit even if said jackshit hit him right in the shell. 

His brothers and sister would always have to remind him to stay focused or 'not do this' or 'not do that'.

For example, a couple days ago Donnie had to kindly remind the box turtle (well…as kindly as Donnie could be anyway…) to brush his teeth.

To. Brush. His. Fucking. Teeth. 

And honestly? Having to be reminded to do that was really embarrassing. And the orange banded teen knew his brother didn’t mean to humiliate him internally…but…yeah.

And it’s not like the softshell was wrong either! The youngest turtle just couldn’t freaking accept that he himself couldn’t do such a simple task in the morning. 

But literally every task he completely fails to do is just utterly simple ones!

Like cleaning his room or not forgetting things or even keeping track of time! 

…And the sad part about all of it was Mikey just honestly could not understand how his family haven’t gotten sick of his annoying tendencies…

And let’s be for real here…that was basically all of his tendencies. 

The box turtle groaned loudly in his room, slamming his whole body on his bed as he screamed into his pillow. 

There had to be something he could do instead of just wallowing in his own self pity…

And one of those options could not consist of bothering his family with his random bad mood. They had to put up with him 24/7…the least he could do was give them some space.

The youngest then glanced at his drawing notebook hopefully…

…One little sketch of something random wouldn’t hurt, right?

The amber eyed teen reached for his notebook, grabbing a pen from his drawer as he started to sketch his desk because why the absolute fuck not? Based on the objects he’s drawn in the past…sketching a simple desk should and will be easy, right? Right. 

That was until the orange banded teen’s pencil tip broke. But it was fine! He could just re-sharpen it, right? Right.

That was until the youngest realized he had absolutely no clue where his sharpener was due to the fact his room looked like a pig stie. And there was no way he was looking for it in…that whole situation. 

…The situation he created in the first place. 

Michelangelo layed on his bed with his face staring at the ceiling in frustration, he ran his fingernails along his arms, not making really deep cuts with them but going deep enough for it to hurt a bit.

Like a reasonable turtle would, Mikey should probably get one of his stress toys…or better yet, another pencil!

But let’s be for real here…he’d most likely find a way to fuck that up too.

Suddenly, there was a small, quiet knock on Mikey’s door but…in all honesty? He just wanted to crawl into his shell and sob for the next hour and a half. Letting out a niiiiice and quick 'come in' would take way too much energy. 

The box turtle let out a soft grunt, letting whoever was on the other side know it was a-okay to come in.

Abruptly, Leo peeked in the room, a wide smile plastered on his face as he closed the door, “Damn, Mikester…it looks like every single natural disaster went through your room…”

“I’m cleaning it.” The youngest grumbled to his brother.

“Really? You sure about that, little bro? Because if my memory serves me correct (which it in-fact does), you said that last week. And the week before that…and the week before—“

“I SAID I’M FUCKING CLEANING IT!!!” The orange banded turtle snapped, sitting up on the bed to glare at his immediate older brother before slowly realizing what he just did. 

The youngest’s heart dropped as he looked away from his brother. The orange banded mutant’s eyed widened as silent and small tears ran down his face. He covered his mouth as his other hand turned to a fist, his nails unforgivingly digging into his palm.

“I-I’m sorry…I’m s-sorry…I-I’m so s-sorry…!” He started, rocking himself back and forth before stopping as he was met with a warm embrace. Leonardo hugged him gently but firmly, rubbing the other’s shell in a comforting hold. “Woah woah…! Bud, you have nothing to apologize for…” The slightly older teen said as he rested his chin on the top of his baby brother’s head.

“L-Like h-hell I don’t. I-I just screamed a-at y-you for no reason…” Michelangelo wobbly said. “You were just trying to lighten the mood but I just had to make everything harder like I-I always do…!” 

“Mikey—”

“I-I always do this. I-I’m so f-fucking s-sorry Leo…”

“Mikester…I-I appreciate the apology but it seriously isn’t necessary—”

“You’re probably so sick of me and so angry at me. I-I’m sorry I just—”

“Mikey!” Leo gently yelled to get the other’s attention, squeezing the smaller turtle’s hands as he stared straight at him with pleading eyes. “Do I look mad?”

“…N-No.”

“Do I sound mad?”

“…No.” 

The second youngest sadly smiled, “So what are you apologizing for, hm?”

“…I-I…dunno…I-I just…I just felt I needed to apologize…” The box turtle mumbled as he looked at his hands. The blue banded turtle sighed, slowly getting out of the hug so him and his little brother faced each other. The slider rubbed the other turtle’s palm with his thumb comfortingly, “…Do you wanna talk about it, baby bro?”

The leader in blue was just met with silence…which he could honestly work with.

“Angelo…you know you can tell me…anything, right? Like…anything. Although, it doesn’t have to be me you talk to about it. It could be Raph or Don or April or even Dad or Draxum! I just…don’t want you sitting here and bottling up the way you feel…” 

Silence. Leo continued.

“You’re always there when we need you, Angel. Whether it’s to vent or to just ramble about shit, you’re just…always there. We don’t tell you this enough but we appreciate you always being someone we can lean on…”

Silence. Leo continued.

“But…you do know you can lean on us too, right? Comfort goes both ways and I can see you’re hurting, buddy. So please…if you need to talk to me…I’m right here.”

Mikey sniffled, squeezing Leo’s hand, “I-I d-dunno. Today is just…weird. This whole week has just been…weird.” Leo nodded, giving his brother his full undivided attention, “How so?”

“I just…haven’t been able to do anything…” The smaller teen admitted.

“What do you mean?” The taller teen inquired. 

“I haven’t been able to do…anything. Like, I can’t draw, cook or even skateboard! Me!!! Not being able to skateboard— isn’t that crazy?!” The amber eyed turtle laughed bitterly.

“And it’s not like I can’t do it. I’m perfectly freaking capable of doing it in the right amount of time I want but my brain just. won’t. let. me!” 

“I keep procrastinating and not doing the stuff I want to do and I have no idea why! I’m tired of just putting things off and being this way! I want to do things without having to ask you guys for help or to remind me or to relate it with a hyperfixation that I have!” Mikey hiccuped, a new wave of tears rolling down his face as his hands shook. 

The amber eyed teen sniffled, refusing to look at his immediate older brother at all right now because…holy shit he just overshared a whole lot…

Like…a whoooooooooole freaking lot.

“…That sounds like you.” Leonardo shrugged. 

In a state of just shock and confusion, the box turtle pulled his hands away from his brother, looking up at him as lime green eyes met amber ones. “I…what…?” Michelangelo murmured.

“I said that sounds like you.” Leo said again casually as Mikey glared at him, “Yeah. I heard what you said but that isn’t helpful.”

“I’m just being honest with you, Mikester.” Leo said, “Just…let me explain, okay?”

“…You have five minutes before I kick you out of my room.” 

“Deal.” The lime green eyed mutant commented, “You can’t draw, cook or skateboard right now. You’re procrastinating and not doing the stuff you want to do in the time you planned…is that correct?” 

Michelangelo sent deathly daggers to his brother— which the other wasn’t phased by at all. This time was probably the best time to crawl in his own shell and just sob his eyes out because what kind of dumbass question was his dumbass brother asking him?!

“…Yes.” The orange banded teen mumbled. 

“And…why are those bad things?” 

“WHY?!” The box turtle huffed out a laugh of annoyance, “Pfft— you’re asking me why. Maybe it’s because it’s annoying?! Maybe because it’s frustrating to deal with and I don’t want to burden you guys with my problems?! Maybe because I don’t want to fucking feel or be this way?!” The youngest shouted, breathing heavily as he finished his rant. 

The box turtle looked away again, silently cursing at himself for getting annoyed so easily. “Mikey.” Leo started again, “Your being too hard on yourself, okay? No one is expecting you to be at your 100% all the time.” 

“What you just described to me; you being able to not focus or you getting bored easily or procrastinating with stuff is…literally you. You’re just being you.” The slider explained as he held his baby brother’s hand in his. “And I get it. It’s hard to deal with it sometimes and it’s going to be hella frustrating. Like…super borderline frustrating. But you can’t shun them away and just…try to ignore them, bubs…”

“Let’s take moi for example. I’m impulsive, I talk loud and lose things daily. Those three things don’t make up my whole personality but it would be super weird and off-putting if I just…didn’t do or have those three things, right?” 

The youngest giggled wetly, “Yeah…it would. A-And by the way, I’m still waiting for you to find that glittery pen kit I gave you…”

Leonardo groaned loudly and dramatically, causing the other teen to giggle louder, “I’m looking for it, okay?! It’s in my room…somewhere.” The taller mutant mused, “But anyways…back to you. You procrastinate, you relate things to your hyperfixations and you can’t do some of your favorite tasks from time to time…those are some traits that make up you, is it not?” 

Mikey sniffled, rolling his eyes playfully due to the fact he knew damn well where this was going, “Yeah…” 

Leo smiled softly, seeing his younger brother was starting to get his point, “I wouldn’t change a single thing about you, okay? I know sometimes it’s hard to deal with the things you described but you have us for that.” He said as his smile turned to a grin. 

“You can come to me— to us— anytime. We love you for who you are…your flaws and all and we just…I-I need you to know that we love you so so much—!” The slider was cut off by a sudden abrupt embrace from the box turtle. The orange banded teen sobbed into the other’s shoulder, clutching the taller turtle like a lifeline. 

“T-Thank you…” The box turtle wobbly said through tears.  

“Of course, Angel.” Leo said as he hugged his baby brother back, “I love you.” He said as he kissed the other teen on the head.

“I-I l-love you too…”

.

.

.

.

.

.

“Tell your thoughts to shut up.” Leo said as he lightly poked Mikey in the forehead numerous times. The two were sitting on the box turtle’s bed just simply…relaxing and enjoying each other’s company. Michelangelo was sitting in between his older brother’s legs as he had his shell to his brother’s plastron.

Leonardo hugged his brother protectively, resting his chin on the top of the box turtle’s head. “What do you mean?” The youngest giggled out. “I can hear your thoughts, man. You’re not bothering me or disturbing me in any way, shape or form, alright…?” 

The amber eyed turtle nodded, squeezing Leo’s hand, “Y-Yeah…I know...” 

“I’m choosing to be here because I love you. I don’t feel obligated to be here, okay? You’re not annoying and you, neither your problems are a burden…okay?” The slider said reassuringly, “It’s okay to ask us for help…and we don’t mind reminding you to do things…okay?” 

“You’ve said ‘okay’ like, fifty times…”

“Mikey.” 

“Mhm…yeah yeah…I gotcha…”

The elder looked at his brother skeptically, resting his chin on his little brother’s shoulder so they made solid eye contact, “I want you to say it.” 

“…Say what exactly?”

“I want you to say that you are an amazing person and you don’t need to change a single thing about yourself.” 

“You are an amazing person and you don’t need to change a single thing about yourself.” Michelangelo grinned smugly. Leonardo glared at the youngest’s interpretation to his statement, “Mikey, you know exactly what I meant.” 

“I said what you wanted me to say…so…” The amber eyed teen trailed off.

“Michelangelo.” The slider said in a warning tone as he poked the other’s side. The box turtle squeaked at the unexpected touch, trying to stop his immediate older brother from doing it again but his brother had a strong but gentle grip on him…

Then the smallest turtle came to recognition that he was stuck in a potential tickle hug with no way out…

…How wonderful. 

“L-Leeheeo…doohoo nahat.” The orange banded mutant warned through his giggles, said warning not seeming too threatening due to the fact he was already laughing up a storm. The leader in blue raised a brow, poking the other’s side repeatedly, “I just want you to repeat what I said…in the first person.” The taller teen specified.

The smaller turtle squirmed in the hug, small frantic giggles pouring out of his mouth. This…really wasn’t how he was expecting his day to go. Just about an hour ago, he was wallowing in sadness about the stuff he hated about himself, to talking about it with his brother, to now getting tickled by his brother.

…So could he really complain about how things turned out?

…Yes. Yes, he absolutely could.  

“Leeheeon! Plehease dohon’t!” The youngest squealed as one of his brother’s hands hovered over his stomach. Mikey held onto the other’s wrists, trying to stop his elder brother from tickling him but his small attempts ending up to be all for nothing as Leo effortlessly tickled his stomach with one hand.

“LEEHEEHAHAHA!!” Michelangelo laughed wholeheartedly, swatting at his brother’s arms. The lime green eyed turtle cooed at the gesture, now using both of his hands to attack the youngest’s plastron, “D'aww…look at you giggling your head off~! You’re my adorable little bundle of amazingness, aren’t you~?”

The smaller teen shook his head, a faint blush appearing on his face, “STAHA— squeal N-NAHAHA!”

“What~? What was that?” The blue banded mutant asked as he kneaded the box turtle’s hips. “GYAHAH— squeal SHIHIHIT! COHOME OHAHAN!!!” The amber eyed turtle cried frantically as he kicked his legs on the mattress slightly. 

The youngest squealed with laughter, curling in on himself as he slumped in his big brother’s hold. Leonardo just sighed fondly at the action, wrapping the other in another hug as he raspberried his neck. “LEEHEEHEE!! PLAHAH— squeak NAHAHAT THEHERE squeak PLEHEASE PLEHEASE— squeak!!!”

“Not there~?” The elder lightly mocked, “What about…here~?” He mused as he used his hands to scribble all over the younger turtle’s ribs. Mikey cackled, shaking his head to try and at least subside the tickly feelings.

“NAHAHA— squeal AHAHAHA!! NAHAHAT THEHEHERE EHE— squeal EHEHEITHER!!! LEEHEEO!!” The orange banded turtle squeaked as Leo stopped for a second, “I’ve tried sooooo many spots, buddy! How many times are you gonna say not there, hm?”

Mikey genuinely squawked louder than a firefighter siren, squirming so much it looked like he was actually being electrocuted. “PLEHEHAHA LEEHEEO NAHAHAT THEHEHE RIHIHIBS!!!” He cackled. 

“Not the riiiibs~? Why~? Is it because it’s your tickle spot~? Your tickletickletickle spot~? Because you’re ticklish~?” Leonardo asked as he lightly nibbled the crook of Mikey’s neck. 

Michelangelo screamed in laughter, scrunching up his shoulders as he dug his heels on the bed, a couple of his plushies sadly falling on the floor (R.I.P. man…) “EEEHEEHEEP!!! S-STAHAP BEEHEEING MEEHEAN!” Mikey said as he thrashed on the bed. 

The slider said nothing, his hands sneaking up to the box turtle’s underarms. “AAAAHAHAHA! OHO NOHOHO— squeak SHIT! SHIHIHAHAT!”

Happy tears slowly begin to appear in the smallest teen’s eyes, he weakly hit Leo’s arms as a last attempt to be set free, “LEHEHEMME squeal GOHOHOHO!” 

“Ohonly if you sahay it, bubs.” 

“IHIHI— SQUEAK!! LEEHEEHEEON!!!” 

“Yeeeees, baby brother~?” The elder dragged out as he kneaded the other’s hips.

“IHI’LL SAHAY IHIHAT I-IHIHI’LL SAHAHAY IHIT!!” The amber eyed teen squealed. 

“And you promise not to be a sassy little shit about it~?” The older teen asked.

“SQUEAK YEHAHAHA— SQUEAK YEHES YEHES I-I PROHOHOMISE!” 

Leo stopped tickling his little brother, hugging him protectively as the youngest caught his breath slowly but surely. “W-Wahait…whahat squeak wahas ihihat yohou eeheeven wahanted me squeak to sahay again?” 

The taller turtle pondered for a bit, thinking to himself before loudly groaning, “That’s…a good damn question. I don’t really remember exactly what I wanted you to say in the first place…” The lime green eyed turtle sighed, “Forgetfulness at its finest...” 

The red eared slider adjusted himself, making sure the other was comfortable before starting to speak again, “Well…based on what we talked about…could you maybe just…y'know…” Leo gestured with his hands before groaning, “Do you get what I’m trying to say, man?” 

“…I thihink I have ahan idea…” Mikey giggled as he fiddled with his hands, “I shouldn’t beat myself up so much because of some of my traits or quirks. And I’m allowed to feel frustrated and/or upset because things don’t go my way because of them. But…I shouldn’t allow those things to put me down...”

Michelangelo smiled softly, rubbing his palm with his thumb, “They don’t define me as a person but they make me a person. I don’t need to be at my best 100% and I’m allowed to have bad days. And if things get too overwhelming or difficult I can just go to you guys.” 

Mikey hugged himself, letting out a small laugh as his happy tears welled up in his eyes, “I’m just…being me. And there’s nothing wrong with that.” Leonardo teared up at his brother’s words, hugging him tighter than he ever had before and burying his face at the back of the youngest’s head.

“Never forget that, Miguelito…never forget that.” 

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙵𝙸𝙽˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙ 

(𝙿.𝚂.: 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌, 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐!!!)

[onebrainsel]

The Culling

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Child death, su*c*dal ideation, su*c*de attempt, domestic abuse (not from Aegon), suggestive content, terrible parenting from several parties. No use of Y/N.

Summary: A Prince and a Lady learn they have much in common, becoming inseparable when they realize the other might just be their reason to keep going. A story about two broken people healing themselves by healing one another.

Word Count: 14.9K

Chapters: One, two, three.

Author's Notes: I haven't written any Reader works in years; and I'm experimenting with a 3rd person omniscient pov for this. Hopefully it's readable and enjoyable. This story will be a few chapters long, and if the warnings haven't made it clear; it's mostly angst of the hurt/comfort variety. P.S: The warnings encompass the entire work, not just this chapter.

AO3 (I recommend reading it there where it's formatted properly, Tumblr is the bane of my existence when it comes to that.)

Chapter I: My Tongue On Your Pulse, My Finger On Your Wound

She’d been on the Red Keep for three moons. An extended stay arranged by her mother and father. Her mother had brought her along with Lady Selysse, who in turn was a dear friend of one of Queen Alicent’s ladies-in-waiting. It was a roundabout way to have access to court, House Gaunt was near insignificant. Something that was irrefutable, but that should not be said in front of her father. Something he was desperately seeking to change. And that’s why she was there.

With the assistance of her mother, she was to find herself a good match. Bind their House to another in hopes of bolstering their own. The aim was to look for a match with a southern house, preferably ones closer to their own lands, but that possessed considerable sway. Despite being in the Red Keep, where the greatest power in the realm resided, her parents were not planning to attempt to bind her to anyone truly close to the King. Her parents knew their station was well below any of them, and her father would loathe to appear desperate on the eyes of anyone. And thus, finding a Lord with influence, but closer to them in station was the priority. One that she, unfortunately for them, has yet to meet.

At five and ten, she looked as comely as it would be expected of a Lady in her station as her father would tell her. She’d have no trouble catching the eye of the Lords and their sons. That much she found had been true. And she played her part in making acquaintances with many, it would start well, but it would always fall through in the end. Whatever drew them to her not being enough to hold their interest. She could attribute such to her own actions; she’d begin acting like she was expected to, but eventually she’d tire, and she’d let herself be who she is. And her true self, as it turned out, wasn’t captivating for them. Every failed courting attempt made her mother increasingly more disappointed, and while that caused her apprehension, she’d gladly bear her mother’s disappointment if it meant she did not have to marry any of the Lords she’d met thus far. Her miniscule dedication to her parents goals decreased with each passing day, and instead she gravitated towards the princes, as well as princess Helaena. Much closer to you in age, they made your days slightly less dull.

Prince Aegon was the closest to her in age, at four and ten. And he was a thorn at her side. He had approached her once, a couple of days after she had arrived, a cocky smile and a saunter hoping to have you swooning, only to find himself being rebuffed. Something he was unused to, every young Lady in court swooned over the Prince, and she did not. It upset him, and it found him coming back to try again. And she would deny him at every turn.

It entertained her greatly to see him come to her with slightly different approaches, and none of them worked. At some point their interactions started to grow from his failed attempts to conquer and into somewhat short conversations. More often than not they’d end with one or the other proclaiming to be irritated by the other, while still seeking one another out. Some silent agreement that they did not hate each other’s company, but that both refuse to state it so.

Today she was at the courtyard, watching disinterested as the young princes trained with their wooden swords. It was not that she held no interested in the art of swordplay, but that her stay was coming to an end, her return home scheduled by the end of the week, and with no match to show for, that meant her mother would be furious throughout the journey home, and once she was there, all of the polite façade would fade. Her mother would be as she always was, her father would be disappointed, yes, but it’s her mother who’d never let her know peace for ruining such an excellent opportunity for their house.

The building dread kept her from finding any enjoyment in what she watched. Even when she knew that Aegon had spent the entire time she had been there, trying to put on a show for her. He’d wink and bow, and she would see through him. There were a couple other young ladies around who’d giggle at his antics, and he’d look frustrated when he saw that they all reacted as he expected, save her.

But that was also something he had come to expect, what puzzled him wasn’t that her reaction differed from theirs, it was that she was displaying no reaction at all. In the past weeks he had come to learn that she liked their push and pull. And he enjoyed it too, no one else in the Keep could keep up with him. She was the only one to raise to his level and he appreciated that. To see her completely aloof and not partaking in their usual antics had him impatient and curious. With a final well-placed parry against Jacaerys who stumbled and nearly fell to the dirt, Aegon raised his hand to wave him off.

“We’re done for the day, nephew.” He said and walked past him to take the training sword back to it’s place. Criston walked to him, clearly intent on telling him that, no, the training was not over yet. But Aegon looked at him with what he knew was a final look. Cole arched his brow but decided to let him off this time, Aegon was surprised, he didn’t usually get off training so easily. But he would not look a gift horse in the mouth. He stripped of his gambeson and went to the nearby bassinet to wash the sweat off of his face, waiting for the courtyard to clear while he cooled from all the hitting and swinging. When he deems the place empty enough, he walks over to where she stood, coming to a stop on a column beside hers, where he leaned casually, studying her with curious eyes. Noting she looked to be so far away that she had not noticed most people had already left.

“May I help you, my Prince?” She said courtly when she finally noticed him starring.

Aegon smirked. He recognized the barely hidden mock on her tone, one of fake decorum towards him that he had grown accustomed to.

“You may…” He said with a tone that carried a playfulness to it. “I just wondered why is it, that you haven’t spared me a single glance when I’ve been here practicing all day for you?”

“Mayhaps, you weren’t the one I came here to see.” She jabbed at him. She was well aware of Aegon’s reputation and overall attitude by then. It didn’t bother her, in fact, his seemingly unshakable ego was the greatest source of entertainment she had found in court.

Aegon raised a brow at her retort. And there here it was; the hint of the girl he had gotten used to. “Oh really?” Aegon asked, pretending to be offended. “If not me, then who else?” He tilted his head to the side, studying her curiously.

In truth, she had not come to see anyone, having wondered aimlessly until she had stopped in the courtyard. But now that she was there, she saw an opportunity to tease him; and tease him she would. At first she wanted to say Aemond, or Jacaerys, but she knew that wouldn’t be believable. They were both too young still, boyish. And so she found her pick on the other end of that spectrum.

“Ser Criston. An excellent teacher, I’ve noticed.” She said with barely contained amusement.

Aegon chuckled, more out of surprise than anything. She was full of those. “Ser Criston?” He said, feigning jealousy. “Really? Him of all people?”

He took a couple of steps forward, standing a bit too close to her to be considered polite. But Aegon had never cared much for the rules.

“Come now. Surely you find me more handsome than him.” He said, a grin spreading on his face.

“That’s entirely subjective.” She said.

“Is it, really?” Aegon turned to face her fully, looking at her with his usual smugness. He folded his arms across his chest, leaning his weight onto one leg. Despite his cocky demeanor, there was a hint of genuine curiosity visible in his eyes.

“And what do you think, then? Who is the most handsome man in the realm?”

“I’ve not seen all the men in the realm.”

“Fair enough.” Aegon conceded, amused by her. He tilted his head again as he considered her, his gaze taking in her features.

“Well then, let me rephrase: Do you think I am handsome?” He spoke with confidence that he had her in a corner.

“I think you think you are handsome.” She turned to face him, leaning her back against the cold stone pillar.

He was objectively a handsome young man. There was no doubt about it. But she refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing what she thought of his looks.

Aegon huffed and grinned, “Oh, I don’t think, I know.” He said. “And I also know when I’m being evaded. You’re sidestepping the question.” He leaned forward, eyes slightly squinted has he observed her. “Why is that? Are you afraid to admit that you find me attractive?”

She let the question hang in the air for a moment, before she gave him an answer.

“Fine, Aegon. You’re pretty.” She said with a roll of her eyes.

“You’re pretty... like a girl.” She then added, a victorious smirk on her lips.

It wasn’t necessarily supposed to be an offense. But she knew he’d likely take it as such. And she wasn’t entirely wrong.

It took all of Aegon’s discipline — he didn’t have a lot — to not let his smile slip. He’d been called many things; arrogant, careless, irresponsible, but never this.

“Like a girl?” He repeated, his voice laced with indignation. He wasn’t exactly offended, more so surprised, but he decided to play up his reaction to see how she’d respond.

“I assure you, I’m very much a man.” He huffed, taking a step closer.

“I never said you weren't.” Is all she had to say in return.

“Oh?” He said, raising a brow. Aegon took another step, closing the distance between them.

“You think I’m pretty like a girl.” He echoed her words, his voice dropping. “What does that make me, then? A pretty little princess?” He questioned.

“Is that what you want it to mean?” She challenged him.

Aegon’s lips curled into a smirk at her comment. He took yet another step forward, forcing her to press fully against the stone behind her. If they stood any closer they’d meld together with the pillar behind her as some gruesome display of art. His gaze was fixed on her face, searching for any hint of discomfort.

“You’re a bold one, aren’t you?” He said, his voice low and edged with a hint of amusement. “No, I’m not a princess, I’ve never cared for pretty clothes or pretty words.” He leaned in, his face now mere inches away from hers.

“A shame. I think pretty clothes and pretty words would suit you.” She said without a hint of sarcasm.

Ever since she’d met the Prince she had thought something about him asked for softness, gentleness. She came to easily tell that he hid behind his bravado, like most men and boys did. Lest they be seen as weak. And for that very reason she had known he’d take her honest comment for a teasing gesture at least, or an offense at most.

Aegon’s smile faltered, has he studied her face he could not tell whether she mocked him or not. And he hated it. He didn’t like the way he was having trouble reading her, because he felt he didn’t know how to react appropriately because of it. And so, he did what he did best — he put on a mask of aloofness to hide his growing uncertainty. He tilted his head to the side, his gaze flicking over her features, choosing to believe she was still playing their usual game.

“You think so?” He teased, tone carrying a hint of sarcasm. “You’d like to see me in a pretty dress, is that it?”

A smile bloomed on her features at his words. “Though the thought is most enticing... Not quite.” She decided to put the teasing behind. Something in her told her that the time for games were over. That whatever time remained to her, she should use it wisely. And she chose honesty.

“I just meant; you’re pretty. And pretty things should be taken care off.” She began. “You don’t have to dress like a girl, merely care for yourself like a girl would.” She finished. Though she felt like her explanation was lacking she still hoped it would make some sense to him. However she knew he wasn’t likely to take it well.

Aegon’s smirk faded into a scowl at her words. He had expected her to go along with their usual teasing, not to give him what seemed like a serious reply.

“What I’m poorly trying to convey; is that if you put the effort on yourself, you’ll be seen differently. Feel differently.” She added after seeing his expression. But, it seemed as though she still failed to get her message across. For her words were like a stab to his pride, temper flaring in response. It wasn’t only that she implied he didn’t care about himself — he didn’t — it’s that she spoke as though she cared.

“And why, pray tell, would I care about your or anyone else’s opinion of me?” He shot back defensively.

“Because if people want you, really want you. It means that first, you wanted yourself.”

Her words came as a surprise even for her. But she knew why ultimately she had spoken them. She felt as though they were kindred spirits underneath the teasing and the back and forth and the pretending. And to him, her words seemed to have struck a cord. And he hated her for it in that moment. For putting him on the spotlight that way. For seeing how much he actually wanted that; to be wanted. He hated that in that moment he desperately hoped that her understanding meant she wanted him. But admitting so felt too vulnerable, terrifying. And thus he tried to keep his mask of indifference, it was the only thing he knew to do. Having been looked at with disgust by his mother one too many times for displaying anything remotely vulnerable, he learned to hide it as best he could — he often failed, to both his and his mother’s disappointment.

“People want me.” He retorted, jaw clenched. “Girls flock to me wherever I go. I don’t need to make any effort to be wanted.”

“Do they flock over to you, or do they flock over to the Prince?” She tilted her head slightly.

“Those two things go hand in hand.” Aegon fired back, bristling at her comment. He tightened the arms folded across his chest and took a step backwards, putting space between them. He felt cornered, even if he wasn’t the one backed into stone.

“Why does it matter?” He asked. “I have them fawning over me either way, don’t I?”

“Sure, and afterwards you feel just as empty as you started because it’s not real.” She stated. “They don’t want Aegon, they want the Prince.” Aegon clenched his jaw in irritation. The more she spoke, the more she peeled away his veneer of carelessness.

“Careful.” He warned, voice sharp. “You don’t know anything about me.” He took a deep breath, his gaze drifting over her face, trying to figure out what she had to gain by saying these things.

“I know more than you think.” She told him.

“Why do you even care?”

“Maybe because we’re not so different. And you’d know that if you wanted me, not just the prize between my legs.” She hoped he’d see it. That he wanted her just as superficially as they wanted him.

She wasn’t upset that he only wanted to bed her for his own ego. She was used to being seen as a means to an end for long enough that it no longer mattered.

Aegon’s breath caught in his throat, he wanted to immediately rebuff her and deny her words. But he ultimately couldn’t deny that there was truth to her words. His pursuit of her was driven largely by his desire to conquer — to forget, to numb his mind however briefly, to feel loved and wanted even if for a moment — add another conquest to his list. But the way she saw through it with unwavering honesty, was equal parts infuriating and terrifying.

“You’re wrong.” He said through his teeth, eyes shifted into a glare. “You’re not a prize. I just like the chase.” He shrugged, trying to conceal the truths she laid out in front of him.

"You just proved my point." She gave him a half smile. "They want you for what you can give them, not for who you are. And in the end it's all meaningless."

Aegon disliked your smile, he disliked how you pointed out his flaws to him. He disliked how exposed he was. He wanted to flee, to turn around and forget this exchange ever happened. And yet, he stayed. Perhaps it was because he was familiar with being told he was doing things wrong. Well, he was used to have fingers pointed at him, and words yelled to his face condescendingly. But never like this.

“It’s not meaningless.” He insisted in an attempt to convince himself as much as her “It brings me pleasure, then there’s meaning. It doesn’t have to be anything else.”

“Maybe.” She acquiesced. “But they’re fleeting pleasures and little else. They are unfulfilling long-term.”

Aegon scoffed. “Who are you to say what fulfills me?” He retorted. “You think you know me better than I know myself?”

“No. Perhaps I don’t.” She conceded. “But I know myself.” She took a step forward. “And in your eyes, I see the same emptiness that stares back at me in the mirror.”

There was a deep sadness, and an anger that simmered within her. It bubbled just under the surface has she spoke. And when she was done, she realized just how much she admitted to. She did not know why she felt this compelled to bare her soul to him.

Aegon’s smug expression faltered as her words hit him. And there was a brief look on her face that he knew was similar to the one he wore. He knew that look; that loneliness. And just as her own words said: it was the look that stared him back in the mirror. The one he tried to pretend wasn’t there every single time he looked. For a moment, he was at a loss for words. Her own hanging in the air; binding them in some sort of invisible shift. Because both knew they’d never be able to look at one another the same after this. He hadn’t expected her to reveal her own faults like this. To admit that she wasn’t above him. It made his defenses waver a crack in the armor grafted into his very being.

“I can’t fix myself anymore.” She cut through the silence, placing a gentle hand on his cheek, “But maybe… I can mend my own reflection.”

I’m broken beyond repair. You; are not.

Were the words she left unspoken. Instead she gave him a teary-eyed smile and pushed past him to leave the courtyard. She had not meant to bare herself to him that way, and she couldn’t handle his gaze. His judgement. Likely because they were similar. She knew what she saw in herself wasn’t something she liked. Therefore, she expected him to judge her as she did herself.

Aegon stood frozen for a few moments, his heart pounding in his chest. Her touch and her words had seared him raw. He had learned to expect harmless mockery, rejection, and maybe even indifference from her in these past weeks. But he hadn’t expected this. A vulnerability, understanding, a desire to help that was so genuine it made him shiver and cower into himself.

She had crossed almost the entirety of the courtyard by the time he snapped out of his initial daze. He turned around and part of him wanted to reach out, but he didn’t. He wouldn’t know what to say if he did. He stood rooted to the spot where she had left him, watching her leave, feeling lost and bewildered.

She fled from the courtyard as if it were on fire. She had not been in King’s Landing long, but in the short time she’d been there, Aegon caught her eye. Not for the reasons he caught everyone else’s attention, but because something about him felt familiar to her. She felt she had to help him. Because no one had done it for her. There’s something irrevocably shattered within her that is no longer fixable, and thus she hoped to heal him instead. A way to bring balance to things. She’d be going home in four days time, it was not nearly long enough to accomplish anything that mattered, but she hoped, perhaps foolishly, that her honesty did something for him. Because it was all she had to give.

Aegon found himself staring at the spot where she had long vanished to, her words echoed in his mind ceaselessly. He tried to make sense of the maelstrom of emotions that warred in him, but try as he might, he couldn’t pick them apart. She had seen straight through him, laid bare his flaws, and then offered to... help him? It was baffling. Whenever anyone pointed out how lacking he was, it was only to chastise him. There was never compassion in their words, only contempt. As if he was something they had to deal with. As if they wished he was anyone else. He wasn’t used to being seen as someone worth fixing, someone worthy of help. He wasn’t used to be seen as Aegon. He was used to being a failure and a disappointment. His own self never worth knowing.

They don’t see one another until the evening of the next day, when Queen Alicent arranged a supper with all of her guests, the House Gaunt representatives included. When Aegon arrives he is dressed sharply in blacks and golds. His hair had definitely been washed, falling in soft silver-gold waves over his shoulders. Very unlike the clumped together and oily mess he usually had going on.

The young Lady Gaunt smiled proudly from her seat when she spotted him. He never seemed to care enough to properly put himself together for anything, ever. She knew it to be true, for there had been a ball a few days after she came to the city, and she witnessed Queen Alicent chastising him for his carelessness unbefitting of his station. Yet, today he looked different. She still felt raw with shame due to how much she had revealed about hers to him the morning before. But seeing him this way, it had been worth it in her eyes.

As Aegon walked into the dining room, his gaze immediately swept over the gathered guests, searching for her. When his eyes finally settle on her figure, sat alone towards the end of the table, his heart skipped in his chest. A mixture of excitement and nervousness coursing through him. He had spent every hour since he saw her last, thinking about her words. Replaying your conversation in his mind over and over again. And he knew he had to see her talk to her.

His eyes met hers then, and he found himself smiling when he saw her own. For once, he didn’t feel like putting on a grand display for conquest, he just wanted to speak to her, be close to her. And so he walked to her, and it was confidence she saw. Not his usual saunter but something a little different, more natural. Something she could get used to seeing. When he arrived at her chair, she greeted him first. “A fine evening, my Prince. You look well.”

Aegon practically beamed at her words, the compliment making his chest swell with pride. He knew he looked good that night, but hearing it from her made it real to him.

“Thank you, my Lady.” He said, voice tinged with a hint of excitement. “As do you.” He added and took her hand in his, bringing her knuckles to his lips. She flushed slightly at his compliment, and he admired the way the candlelight framed her features.

“Thank you, my Prince.” She said, and he let go of her hand. Both of them immediately missed the warmth of each other’s touch.

“May I sit with you?” He asked, gesturing to the empty seat beside her.

“Since when do you simply ask for things?” She said with an arched brow and a smirk toying in the corner of her lips. Aegon grinned and chuckled quietly, eyes glittering with amusement.

“I suppose you’re right.” He said as he took the seat to her left. Deliberately brushing her shoulder with his. “I usually don’t ask. I just take what I want.”

“Am I still something for you to take, then? ” She asked with a playful tone. He laughed at her question, his eyes never leaving her face. The way she effortlessly could keep up with him made him crave her company in ways he never imagined he’d want for someone.

“Is that what you want to be?” He chuckled, resting his chin on his palm as he tilted his head. It wasn’t lost to either of them how his words echoed something she had said to him in the courtyard.

“No. I don’t think you do. Otherwise you would’ve made my life a whole lot easier these past few weeks.” He continued, his tone turning slightly suggestive. “Maybe you’re to be earned, not taken.”

“And why is it you want me, my Prince? Do remember what I told you yesterday.” She said then, voice carrying the hint of a warning.

Aegon leaned back in his chair turning his head to meet her gaze. Her question was simple at face value, but it still cute him like a dagger, reminding him of how he saw her — and every other Lady — before. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, from embarrassment, yes. But also from a building feeling he could not yet describe.

“It’s... complicated.” He said at last, his voice quiet. “I can’t quite explain it.” He admitted and ran a hand through his hair, a sigh escaping his lips. “All I know is I can’t stop thinking about you.” He admitted, his voice near a whisper.

She gave him a genuine and soft smile. “That might be the most honest thing you’ve said to me.” She touched his forearm with the same gentleness that she spoke with. “I appreciate that.” Aegon’s pulse quickened at her touch, his heart hammering against his chest. He glanced down at your hand on his arm, and couldn’t help but notice how nice it felt. How right it felt.

“Perhaps I’ll have to be honest more often then.” He said, returning her smile. “Just for you.”

“As flattering as that is; don’t do it for me. Do it for you. I won’t be here long after all.” She caressed his forearm again before taking her hand away, seeing that most people were now sitting at the table.

Aegon’s smile faded slightly has she reminded him that she would be leaving soon. He had almost forgotten in the moment, in the easy banter and the comfort of her presence — when had her presence began to feel comforting? Was it before the fateful conversation in the courtyard? Or before? He wondered. As she withdrew her hand, he felt a pang of disappointment, a strange emptiness where her touch had been.

He leaned in closer, his eyes fixed on hers. “But why does it have to be done for a reason?” He asked genuinely, his voice quiet so that no one else could hear. “Why can’t I do it just for you?”

“Because, my Prince, you mustn’t rely on other people. Not even me. Other people will disappoint you, use you, forget you, hurt you. When you put yourself above all else, only then you are safe.”

She told him, and in her voice one could tell those words came from experience. The thing she doesn’t tell him, is how living that way leads to an overbearing loneliness. But she thought it was a fair exchange to keep ones heart safe from all perils.

Aegon’s expression darkened at her words, his eyes searched her face. He could sense the weight behind her statement, wisdom born from pain — who would be so cruel as to harm her this way? He felt anger towards someone he did not yet know. He knew her words weren’t untrue, but hearing her say it out loud hurt nevertheless. He wanted her close. Yet her advice implied the very opposite.

“But if I do things just for myself…” He started to protest, his voice tinged with both defensiveness and pain. He wanted to challenge her. “Isn’t that the same as being a selfish prick?”

“A good point.” She smiled. She felt pride at being able to instigate his thoughts this way.

“It depends on how you do it, I think. For example, I’ll not act like a prick to others because it makes me feel bad. It is less about their perception of me, and more about what works for myself.” She paused, pensively trying to articulate her thoughts the best she could. “That to put oneself first doesn’t necessarily mean choosing to hurt another.” She still felt like she could have explained it better, but left it at that.

Aegon listened intently as she explained herself, his gaze never wavering from her face. He could see her sincerity, the unwavering belief in what she spoke. He shifted in his chair, pondering her words. It made sense, and he could see the merit in it. Maybe she was right. He let out a soft laugh.

“When did you get so wise?” He asked with both admiration and amusement.

“I never changed. You just never paid attention.” She smirked.

“You’re not wrong, I’ve never been accused of being particularly perceptive.” He admitted with a rueful smile and shrug.

“It’s a shame, really.” He continued, his gaze roaming over her features. “I could have gotten to know you a lot better before now. It’s just... I’ve always been better at noticing things like…” He gestured to her figure, a sly smile on his lips.

As it would turn out she was not nearly as immune to his charms as she pretended to be; and a blush crept up her cheeks. She picked up a wine goblet to hide behind then.

“In your defense, this,” She gestured at him like he did at her “is what we all notice about anyone at first. You just need to want to see past that.” She said and took a sip of her wine.

Aegon’s smirk widened at her flushed cheeks. He enjoyed seeing that he did have an effect on her. It was only fair given how she seemed to own his entire being with nothing but her words. He chuckled quietly the explanation, then leaned in closer, his voice low.

“Alright, I’ll concede that you’re right. It’s far easier to notice that when you first meet someone.” He paused, a sly smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he deliberately looked her up and down. “And yet there’s still a lot to more to be seen in you.” He added. Truly bewildered that even though he was undeniably attracted to her, he found himself wanting to know her, more than he wanted to have her.

“Don’t sell yourself short. There’s a lot more to you than meets the eye, if this conversation is any proof of it.” She said leaning towards him slightly.

Aegon felt heat bloom all the way to tips of his ears. The compliment made his heart feel full. No one had ever thought him worthy to know more about. He was always the shallow one. The one people thought nothing more off than a lazy and spoiled child. He looked away then, a rare expression of vulnerability flickered across his face for a moment before he turned his gaze to her again, whatever had been there before being replaced with a cocky expression.

“Careful, I might start thinking you actually like me.” He teased, voice a soft murmur for her ears only.

“I never said I didn’t.” She matched his tone.

Aegon’s heart missed a beat at her comment, his eyes widening slightly. He had not expected that. He had expected more sarcasm, more banter, but not the clear hint of something more in her words.

He leaned closer to her. “So you do like me?” He pressed, hope and surprise in his voice.

“I like who you can become if you let yourself be true to who you really are.” She answered in a manner that made it clear that was a honest statement on her part.

Aegon’s smile faded for a moment at her words. It was more than just a simple yes or no, more than a shallow admission of base attraction. It was a challenge, a plea, and a reassurance all rolled into one. And that had him swallowing thickly. He reached out, his fingers gently taking one of hers beneath the table.

“What if who I really am isn’t someone you’ll like?” He asked, uncharacteristically vulnerable.

“Then it still doesn’t matter, remember? Be true to you first and foremost. There will always be someone who will like you for you are.”

She gave him a reassuring smile. Her words applied to him, because she knew there was something in him for people to love. Unlike herself. No matter who she was; if she tailored herself to their expectations, they grew tired and rejected her. If she were true to herself they simply ignored her. It seemed she was doomed to fail no matter what. But there was something about Aegon she knew would be easy to love, if only he allowed himself so.

It seemed as though every time she spoke to him she had something world-shattering to divulge. He had never been in a position where someone cared enough to tell him to be true to himself, or tell him who he was, was someone to like. His life had been nothing but failed attempts to please others, trying to hide the things that made others avert their gazes to no avail. But now there she was, encouraging him to be himself, no matter what. Telling him that everything he had been doing so far was pointless.

His grip on her fingers tightened, not enough to harm her, just enough to ground him. Suddenly he felt that having this conversation amidst a supper with random Lords wasn’t ideal.

“It’s easier said than done.” He said harshly, almost defeated. “To be true to oneself when everything around you pushes against it.” He looked down on his lap where his hand was entwined with hers.

“Well, I never said it would be easy.”

Aegon chuckled softly, realizing the truth in her simple words. He let out a sigh, his shoulders sagging slightly. “No, you didn’t.” He admitted with a faint smile, his thumb tracing small circles on her knuckles. “You make it sound so simple…” He said, his voice tinged with both irritation and begrudging respect.

“Easier said than done.” She sighed and shrugged. Aegon laughed again, shaking his head in amusement.

“You are utterly infuriating, you know that?” He said without any true heat behind it. He leaned his head back on the chair and looked away from her then.

“But gods damn me, I do like you.”

She shook her head. “You like that I can see past your bullshit, and that I speak plainly to you. You don’t like me, my Prince.” She gave him a half smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

He was about to protest, to tell her that she only did those things because that’s part of who she was. So of course he liked her. But then his mother was rising to her feet across from them, beginning a speech for her guests, the chatter dying down so everyone could listen to the Queen.

“No one does.” She continued under her breath, words spoken only for herself or so she thought. But Aegon was paying attention to her, not his mother, and he heard her words.

His heart twisted into knots, his face drawing in a frown. He felt guilty then. Because he knew he was one of the people that made her feel unwanted. Or wanted for the wrong reasons. But he also felt anger. Because he truly could not fathom how anyone could not like her. And he once again felt angry at those who led her to feel that way. He wanted to argue, to tell her that plenty of people would adore her if they could just look past their own noses. But his guilt kept him from saying anything.

Then, his mother’s voice is cutting through his thoughts has she finalized her toast. The conversation between the two of them died in favor of sharing a silent meal. And she was grateful to Aegon for that. Somehow, he had the ability to make her say infinitely more than she ever intended to.

Throughout supper she could notice his mother, Queen Alicent, looking their way, as did her own mother, Lady Esme Gaunt. They both looked suspiciously at her and Aegon. She couldn’t help but chuckle to herself at that, and Aegon immediately took note of the sound coming from her. He did his best to focus on supper and the conversations around him, but his mind was a tangle of thoughts and feelings. He was still trying to process her earlier words, but those were immediately forgotten upon hearing the soft sound that came from her. Curious, he glanced over to his right, trying to figure out what had amused her.

He followed her eyes all the way across the table where his mother was sat. And two seats down from his mother, sat hers. Both looked to where they sat with apprehension and disapproval.

He raised an eyebrow and leaned in closer to her. “Care to let me in on the joke?”

“Our mothers; they stare at us as if we’re committing a crime.” She smirked into your goblet with wine stained lips. “They must think so lowly of us.” She giggled and Aegon smiled at her observation.

“They definitely do think lowly of me, at least.” He muttered under his breath, half sarcastic, half serious. He glanced back at their mothers, who were still looking at them both with obvious suspicion.

“Looks like they’re ready to jump in if necessary.” He joked, returning his gaze to her. “I suppose we better behave ourselves then, hmm?” He waved noncommittally.

“And if I told you we shouldn’t?” She looked at him through her peripheral. A mischievous smirk on her lips.

Aegon arched a brow at her words and her expression. He couldn’t help the rush of excitement that went through him. He leaned in just a little closer, his voice low and filled with a hint of mischief to match her own.

“Behaving is rather boring anyway.”

“I merely think everyone assumes too much about us. Sometimes playing to their expectations is fun.” She shrugged. “Even when we’re doing the right thing they don’t seem to see. Might as well have some fun every now and then.”

Aegon laughed, enjoying the rebellion in her words and the playful gleam in her eyes. “I couldn’t agree more.” He replied, his voice dropping even softer, almost a whisper against her ear.

“Why don’t we give them something to really worry about, hmm?”

“Anything in particular in your mind, my Prince?” Aegon’s smile grew, his eyes shimmering with mischief .

“Oh, I’ve got plenty of ideas.” He said, voice silky and smooth. He leaned in closer, his lips almost brushing the shell of her ear, his breath warm on her skin.

“Just follow my lead.” He whispered and she nodded in agreement. His lips curled into a satisfied smile at that response, excitement pumping through his veins. He cast a brief look around the room, taking in the people nearby, then, without warning, he reached out and placed his hand on her thigh, his touch firm and possessive.

A smile began to spread on her face as she draped her arm on the back of his neck, playing with the strands of his hair. And she noted that they were in fact as soft as they looked. You leant to whisper as much to him. “You know, you should wash your hair more often, it’s so soft like this.”

Aegon shivered as her fingers ran through his hair, her touch sending tingles down his spine. He chuckled softly as she spoke, her proximity and the feel of her breath against his ear making his heart beat faster.

“Is that a complaint or a suggestion?” He asked, voice husky, the grip on her thigh tightening a fraction.

“Both. I’m complaining that you don’t do it enough, and suggesting you do it more often.”

Aegon’s smile widened at her answer, amused by her ability to meet him halfway. To be teased and tease back just as well. He leaned in even closer, his lips just shy of brushing her ear. His hand on her thigh moved a little higher, his touch scorching.

“I might enjoy the complaints too much.” He murmured, his voice low and enticing.

“So my pretty princess is one of those, hmm?” He had referred to himself as a pretty princess the day before, sarcastically, but she thought there was a hint of truth to those words.

Aegon felt his heart skip a beat at the way she called him a princess. The word was usually an insult, a mockery directed when directed at him. But coming from her, it felt like a compliment, a teasing endearment. He huffed out a laugh, the hand on your thigh moving to the small of her back, then resting on her right hip between her back and the chair.

“Maybe I am.” He replied, his voice a low against her ear. “Is that a problem?”

“Far from it.” She gave an imperceptible tug to the hair at the nape of his neck. His hair was long and loose, concealing her hand and its movements for the most part. Aegon let out a soft gasp at the tug on his hair, it wasn’t strong enough to hurt, just enough to make him feel owned. The sensation was like electricity running down his spine, sending shivers through his body. He took a deep, shuddering breath, his fingers digging into her hip as he struggled to keep his composure.

His voice was low and slightly hoarse as he spoke, his tone a mix of amusement and huskiness. “I see you’re not afraid to play dirty, eh?”

“I’m going home in three days. Might as well go all out.”

His heart constricted at her words.

Three days.

It wasn’t enough. He wanted more time — needed more time with her.

His grip on her hip remained firm, his head spinning slightly from the rush of adrenaline.

“Then let’s make it a night worth remembering, shall we?” He responded, his voice now carrying an edge of determination. He leaned in closer, his lips hovering just above the shell of her ear.

“Can I ask you something?” She nodded. He took a deep breath, his voice low and intimate has he spoke. “Are you promised to anyone?”

The question was out before he could stop it, his insecurity suddenly rearing its head. Afraid he had read the situation wrongly. But the idea of not seeing her, of losing this connection between the two of them, suddenly felt like a gaping hole inside him.

She chuckled. “To my mother’s endless disappointment; I am not.” She told him. “Part of the reason I came to King’s Landing was because my parents believed it would be an excellent place to find suitors.” She explained while she continued playing with his hair, finding it soothing. “The Lords either didn’t like me, or I didn’t like them. So I made sure they wouldn’t even consider me.”

Aegon listened to her explanation, his gaze fixed on her face, his fingers drawing circles on her hip. He chuckled softly at the admission, a mixture of amusement and a strange sense of relief washing over him.

“So you’re telling me you’re unspoken for, and that every Lord in this court is an idiot.” He said, his voice carrying a hint of admiration. He leaned in a little closer, his tone deep and promising.

“Their loss is my gain, it would seem.”

“Is that an offer, my Prince?”

Aegon’s eyes darkened slightly at the question, his grip on her hip tightening again. He looked at her, his gaze intense and filled with a mixture of desire and determination.

“It’s more than an offer.” He replied, his voice unwavering.

He leaned in even closer, his breath hot against her ear, his words a soft, sultry whisper.

“It’s a claim.”

“Then burn through my mother’s men, fly me away and make me your wife.” She said in his ear. She didn’t realize how much the thought thrilled her until the words fell from her lips.

Aegon’s breath hitched in his throat, his heart skipping a beat at the boldness of her words. The thought of making her his wife sent a rush of desire through his body, reigniting the smoldering flame that had been building ever since he met her. He pulled back slightly to look at her, his eyes glittering with a mixture of surprise, admiration, and a want.

“Are you serious?” He asked, voice hoarse with genuine emotion.

She pulled back so she could look at him properly. “I will be forced to marry sooner rather than later. I do not wish to go North, the South is my home. If I married any of the Lords presented to me; it would be a death sentence.” She said.

“I know we’ve only known for a matter of weeks at most. But you make me feel... Alive. Like I have not in years.” She averted his eyes then.

It was strange to say it all out loud for him to hear, there surrounded by many during supper, while her mother and the Queen stared at them both. A foreboding omen just across from her.

“If I’m to marry someone I barely know, then I’d rather it to be you than anyone else.”

Aegon’s heart thumped loudly in his chest as he listened to her intently, his eyes never leaving her face. Her words punched the air out of him, a strange mix of excitement, disbelief, and hope washed over him. He reached out and grabbed her chin, tilting her face up to meet his gaze. His touch was gentle, but his eyes burned with a fierce intensity.

“I’d make you my wife right now, at this very moment, if I could.” He whispered gruffly, voice filled with raw emotion.

“Somehow I do not doubt it.” She said to him. “If you told that to me yesterday, I would not have believed you.” She smiled warmly.

Aegon chuckled at her response. He kept his hand on her chin, his thumb gently caressing her skin.

“To be honest, I didn’t see this coming either.” He admitted. “But there’s something about you that’s completely intoxicating.” He inched even closer, his lips now just a breath away from hers.

“We could always elope.” He whispered, his voice filled with mischief and temptation. She smiled and places a hand on his chest to push him just slightly away. “Very romantic, and very tempting.” She pulled back herself.

“But that would cause an enormous political headache I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.” She sat properly on her chair again. “We should talk about this more thoroughly when this supper is over. Besides, I think we’ve made enough of a scene to have gossip floating around for days on end.” Her smile was positively mischievous.

Aegon sighed in defeat, his shoulders sagging slightly. He knew she was right, but that didn’t stop him from being frustrated by the practicalities of it all. He sat back on his chair as well, a pout on his lips.

“I suppose you have a point.”

His gaze traveled to her face and landed on her smile. A smirk tugged at the corner of his own lips, his irritation giving way to amusement again. “You’re loving this, aren’t you?” He murmured, his voice filled with mock accusation.

“The most fun I’ve had in ages.” She raised her cup to him.

“Am I a form of entertainment to you?” He asked with playful indignation. He grabbed his cup and clinked it against her. In a toast to nothing in particular.

“I’m not sure whether to be insulted or flattered.” He said and took a generous gulp of his wine.

“You are the most entertaining person in the Red Keep. Everyone here is dreary. You know not to take things so seriously all the time.” She shrugged.

“I’m the most entertaining person in all of the Seven Kingdoms, actually.” He corrected jokingly, his confidence back in full force. He took a sip of his drink, the smirk on his lips growing cockily.

“Does that mean you find me entertaining or just less dreary?” He teased curiously, arching a brow at her.

“Those are not mutually exclusive.” Aegon huffed at her answer his eyes twinkling with amusement.

“So I’m both entertaining and less dreary.” He said pompously, like a scholar declaring a profound discovery. He leaned in and said in a near whisper:

“And here I thought I was just handsome and charming.”

“You are pretty, and perhaps too charming for your own good.” She corrected him. Yesterday he was offended she had called him pretty; today she hoped he saw it for the compliment she mean it has.

Aegon felt a thrill of exhilaration at the word “pretty” falling from her lips again, his heart skipping a beat. He tried to act nonchalant, as he had last morning, but he could not conceal the pleased smile on his lips. He raised a brow at her comment, pretending to be offended. “Too charming for my own good, you say? Is that even possible?”

“It is when you don’t know how to use it.”

Aegon chuckled, enjoying the light banter between them. He feigned offense once more, a cheeky smile gracing his lips. “Now you’re questioning my skills…” He said, voice still playful. “Are you implying I lack finesse?”

“Yes. I think you have a knack for it. Refine it and ally it with other talents; and you’d have anyone eating at the palm of your hands. Regardless of your status as Prince.”

Aegon’s brow rose in surprise at her statement, that she had this much faith in him was still absurd to him.

“You seem to have me all figured out, don’t you?” He said softly.

“Do you dislike that?”

Aegon chuckled, his eyes roaming over her face, taking in her curious gaze. He moved a little closer, leaning his torso over the armchair towards her.

“I find it...” He began, his voice dropping into a deep, sultry whisper. “Intriguing.” His gaze darkened, fixed on her lips for a moment before meeting her eyes again.

She held his gaze. “Behave. I think your mother is about to have a heart attack.” She spared the Queen a brief look, then she was back at him.

Aegon followed her gaze to his mother for a moment, noticing her tense expression and the way she was gripping her fork a little too tight. He chuckled softly, both amused by her comment and by the fact that she had correctly read his mother’s reaction.

“Do you want me to behave?” He asked, head tilted in a playful taunt.

“I do, actually.” She look at him, seriousness in her gaze.

“We can’t risk upsetting them too much today. Lest we ruin any hope of getting what we want later.”

He recognized determination in her voice, and that she meant it. He understood she had a point. For the time being, they had to tread carefully, to keep up the façade of politeness and civility, even if it was killing him a little inside. He sighed in frustration and resignation. “Fine.” He sat back in his chair, his body tense, as if all his energy was going into restraining himself.

She squeezed his hand gently. A silent apology for interrupting his fun. Aegon took a deep breath, trying to contain the swirl of emotions within him. As he felt her hand on his, her touch like a balm on his restless soul, he took comfort in its gentleness, and the message she conveyed through it. He exhaled slowly, his eyes flicking to her hand on his, before they moved back to her face. He gave her a small, tight smile. A silent acknowledgement of her gesture.

They spend the next few moments sharing dessert politely. Hands away from one another, and that seemed to appease their mothers ever so slightly. Not that Aegon had noticed. He was too busy looking at her, and the way she moved, the way her lips would wrap around the fork, or the way her eyes wrinkled when she smiled. He had barely touched his wine throughout the night, uncharacteristic of him, and yet he felt drunk. Her very presence kept his mind fogged, and his nerves ablaze. He was going mad.

“May I have this dance?” He suddenly said, offering his hand.

At first, she frowned. Then she nodded and hesitantly took his hand. “I didn’t think you were the type.” She said honestly.

Aegon grinned as he led her away from the table, to where a couple of other Lords and Ladies danced. His hand held hers the entire time, the touch gentle yet firm.

“I’m full of surprises.” He replied, his eyes holding onto hers in a steady gaze. He wrapped his other arm around her waist, pulling her closer, the distance between them barely there.

“Besides…” He added, voice low. “I like having you in my arms.” He led her in the most basic steps he knew. Partially regretting never taking any of his dance lessons seriously. But she didn’t seem to mind. They spun around each other, their backs touching and arms outstretched.

“I know I rather boldly suggested we marry. But I never considered your side in this. Are you not betrothed already?” She took the opportunity of their distance from the table, and their mothers, to talk with him.

Her question took him off guard, and he faltered slightly in his steps. He quickly regained his composure through the next movements, and soon they were facing one another again. He sighed deeply before answering her.

“No. I’m not betrothed yet.”

“I sense there’s a ‘but’ there.” Aegon furrowed his brows slightly at her words, a flicker of curiosity and confusion in her eyes. “I just thought otherwise, based on what I’ve heard.”

“And what have you heard?” He asked, his voice betraying a hint of irritation.

“Court gossip, mostly. That you are intended to wed your sister Helaena to strengthen the ‘Blood of the Dragon’.”

Aegon groaned internally at her answer, annoyance and frustration coursing through him. “Of course they are.” He muttered under his breath.

He steered her around another couple, trying to keep his expression nonchalant as he spoke. “It is the plan.” He grudgingly admitted. “But it’s not official yet. My mother hopes to do it soon. I’ve been… avoiding it.”

“So you dislike the idea of marriage, or you just dislike having to marry your sister?”

Aegon paused for a moment, his steps faltering just slightly as he considered the question. He tightened his grip on her waist, holding her close, his eyes studying her expressions as he answered.

“I don’t dislike the idea of marriage. I’ve always known it would happen eventually.” He began. “But the thought of marrying my sister... It doesn’t sit right with me. It feels wrong somehow.” He furrowed his brow.

“I thought it was the Targaryen way.” She tilted her head.

Aegon grimaced at her comment, his jaw clenching involuntarily.

“Yes... It is the Targaryen way.” He acquiesced, his voice filled with a mixture of resentment and resignation. “The blood of the dragon must be kept pure, or so we’re told.”

“And you care not for the Targaryen legacy? I thought you would, given how arrogant you are.” She said the last part poking him on the side briefly to tell him she meant no offense. “With how proud you are of your beloved dragon…” Aegon’s eyes initially darkened at her words, brows furrowed. But he recognized her jest for what it was soon enough.

“I do care about the Targaryen legacy.” He replied firm. “But not at the cost of marrying a sibling. No one else does it, perhaps there’s a good reason for that.” He paused, his eyes searching her face, searching for a hint of her thoughts.

The more he spoke, the more a smile grew on her lips. She already knew there was more to the Prince than the lustful drunkard. But he clearly had very strong opinions that he didn’t usually express.

“That’s true, my Prince.” She said, while she looked so intensely at him that she felt like the words tumbling from her lips were merely an afterthought.

The way she looked at him, the intensity in her eyes, the smile on her lips... it was enough to make Aegon’s heart beat faster. He was acutely aware of their proximity, of the way her body pressed against his, the way his grip tightened around her involuntarily. When she called him ‘my Prince’, his chest tightened with a strange, unknown emotion.

“Stop it.” He muttered, a hint of desperation in his voice.

“Stop what?” She asked him confused.

Aegon’s eyes flashed with a mixture of conflicted emotions. He knew he should pull away, put some distance between the two of them but he found himself powerless to do it.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what? My Prince?”

Aegon felt a shiver run down his spine at the sound of her calling him ‘my Prince’ again. It sent a jolt of want down to his core. He pulled her closer, his body flush against hers, the dance forgotten. His hand on her waist slid lower, stopping just above the curve of her hip.

“Like you want me.”

“And what if I do?” She said. Less of a question, and more of an admission. It was Beyond the practically of marrying him over old decrepit lords. She wanted him. To be with him, to be beside him.

Aegon’s breath hitched at her confession, his eyes widening slightly. He had not expected her words to affect him so, but they did, as they have been since the day before. Hitting him in the chest like a well-aimed arrow.

“And what if I told you I want you, too?” He asked, tentatively.

“Then I wouldn’t know why you do.”

Aegon paused for a moment, his brows knitting in confusion. His hand slid up her side, coming to rest on her cheek, his palm rough against her skin. “Why wouldn’t I want you?” He asked softly, his eyes searching hers, a hint of vulnerability in them.

“Because no one has ever wanted me for me.” She said. “Not for my body, or standing. But for who I am.”

Aegon’s heart clenched at her words. His thumb traced her of cheekbone in a gentle caress, his voice was soft and low. “Believe me, if the only thing I wanted was pleasure, I could have that anywhere. With anyone.”

He leaned in closer, his breath fanning against her skin, his voice a rough whisper in her ear.

“But with you, I want something more. I don’t know how else to explain it except that... I want you.”

She held his wrists. Feeling the quickened pulse underneath her fingers.

“I believe that you believe it to be true.” She started. “I just can’t believe it myself.” It didn’t make any sense, she knew that. But it was how she felt.

Aegon’s heart pounded in his chest, pulse racing beneath her fingertips. He understood her doubts, the skepticism born out of years of being only valued for the power she could offer. He knew how that felt.

“I know it’s not easy to trust.” He spoke, his voice thick with emotions he barely understood. “I know it’s hard to believe. But I promise you, I want you for who you are. I want all of you.”

She turned her head slightly to kiss the inside of his wrist. “And I have nothing to lose.” She caressed the back of his hand. “I want it to be true, and I don’t know what frightens me the most: It being real, or not.”

Aegon let out a shaky exhale at the feeling of her lips against his skin, the act so tender and yet filled with such need. He looked at her, his eyes dark and intense, his breathing labored.

“Let it be real.” He murmured urgently. Filled with na odd combination of desperation and hope. “Let me prove it to you.”

“Then don’t let them take me back to Ashen Hall. Keep me to yourself, make me your wife.”

Set me free.

Her tone was desperate. For him, for the hope that his words brought, for the possibility that she wouldn’t have to go back to a place that crushed her.

“I won’t let you go,” He said firmly, only for her to hear. His eyes were filled with determination as he held her face between his hands. “You’re not going back. You’re mine, and I’m yours.”

And then he does something that he had never really done before. He placed a kiss on her forehead. It’s tender, comforting. His hands drop from her face to encircle her in a hug. And that somehow felt more intimate, more scandalous than if he had kissed her fully on the mouth for all to see.

She’s caught by surprise with his actions. But she can’t help but relax in his embrace, forgetting entirely that she was in the middle of the hall amongst at least a dozen people.

She inhale his scent. Jasmine, lavender and wine. She wanted to commit it to memory. She felt the rumble of his voice has he spoke into her ear that she couldn’t make out, his breath warm against her skin. His hand moved to the back of her head, holding her close, his body pressing against hers, his embrace firm and strong.

He glanced towards the table, and met his mother’s gaze. She looked confused. But not angry. He thought he saw something warm in her eyes for a second. Lady Esme Gaunt on the other hand, looked displeased and disgusted. And that was what settled it once and for all that he wasn’t letting her go.

“Listen to me.” He whispered in the shell of her ear. “In three days, when the time for you to leave comes, you’ll be mine.” He undid the hug, letting his hands run down her arms until his hands held her own.

“My father once let my half-sister have a choice in suitors. I was told he wanted her happiness, allowing her to choose who she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.” He began explaining. “I’ll demand the same of him, and no one will be able to deny the king’s wishes. Not my mother, not yours.”

She can do little else but nod. Aegon seemed determined. Motivated by more than one night’s conquest. And it made her want to believe him.

“I will have you.” Aegon murmured low. “Whatever the cost.”

His eyes darkened as his gaze flicked towards the table, no doubt sensing the stares from the guests.

“And now…” He said, finally pulling away from her. “We should return to the table before they wonder why we’ve been dancing for so long.”

“They think you’re charming your way into my skirts.” She joked, wanting some levity. “Scandalous.”

Aegon chuckled lowly, the corner of his lips raising in a smirk.

“Is it working?” He asked, a hint of playfulness in his voice, as he began leading her back towards the table.

She leaned into his ear and whispered. “If only you knew just how wet I am for you.” She pulled back to see his face with grin on her lips.

Aegon froze in his tracks, his eyes widened, mouth slightly parted in shock. His breath caught in his throat, his mind and body suddenly overwhelmed by the image the words she had said planted in his head, along with the memory of the her body pressed to his, her voice in the shell of his ear. He was suddenly very desperate to have her alone. He swallowed, eyes dark and intense. His voice hoarse has he asked:

“Are you trying to kill me, woman?”

“Not before you have all of me. Where would be the fun in that?”

She let go of his hand and continued walking back to the table on her own with a slight skip her step. Heat on her cheeks, heat building in her gut. But her heart was warm too. Had been since his promise to make her his. To prove his love was real.

Aegon watched as she walked ahead, the sway of her hips leaving him nearly breathless. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. Her words had done things to him, made him desire her with the force of a thousand suns. He followed after her, mind filled with thoughts of her. He shook his head and began reciting every prayer his mother and his septa had ever thought him.

He sat down beside her a little closer than was probably necessary.

She placed her hand on his on the armchair. And she give him a warm look that wasn’t lustful like her previous comments. She gave his hand a squeeze and smiled at him. He turned his hand to take hers and bring it to his lips. Placing a gentle kiss on her knuckles. There was a fire in his eyes. Desire, yes. But also a promise.

Aegon’s gaze flickered to the rest of the room, taking stock of the rest of the table’s occupants. His mother watched the two of them, with a look he had never seen before. She seemed contemplative, as if lost in deep thought. As for Lady Esme, she looked at her with nothing but cold disapproval. He returned his gaze to her then, where he saw her swallow thickly as she watched her mother watch them.

“I swear to you.” He said fervently; “I will make you mine.”

“Let’s hope you can, my Prince.”

Aegon held her gaze, his expression intense, the fire in his eyes flaring at her words. He leaned in a little closer, his voice low and rough as he spoke.

“You doubt me?” He asked, a note of challenge in his tone.

“I don’t doubt you. I doubt the powers that be.” She give a quick look to where her mother sat. Anger and fear in her eyes. Then she looked back at him. Aegon understood her look, and could feel her mother’s angry glare himself.

He was undeterred.

He gently tucked her hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering against her skin for a moment longer than was necessary.

“You should learn to have a little faith.” He said, offering her a smirk. “When have I ever not gotten what I wanted?”

She huffed at his words. “Fair enough.”

Aegon laughed with her, a hint of lightheartedness breaking through the tension. He was suddenly struck by the ease with which the two of them were talking to each other, how natural it felt. He took her hand in his once again, and gently lifted it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on the back of her hand.

“Trust me.” He said against her skin, his voice soft and serious. “I won’t let you slip through my fingers.”

She shook her head with a smile and just stared at him in silence for a while. The glimmer in his eyes shone with something she had not seen before.

“I fear you are more entertained by the prospect of a challenge, than myself.” She looked away from him. “Will I still hold your interest when it is all said and done?”

Aegon’s heart clenched at her words, a pang of guilt striking him. He had always sought adrenaline and excitement, relished in the thrill of the chase. He placed a finger under her chin, gently tilting her face towards him, his eyes meeting hers.

“It’s not just the challenge.” He said, his tone firm and earnest. “You’re captivating. Fascinating. Even in my wildest dreams, I couldn’t imagine wanting something as badly as I want you. No. It’s not just the challenge. It’s you.”

“When did you become so good with words?” She almost kissed him then, utterly bewildered. But she took a deep breath and merely let a hand hover over his heart.

Aegon chuckled softly at her reaction, his heart quickening at the feel of her hand above it, the heat of her palm against his chest, even through all the layers it was searing to him. He placed his own hand over hers, pressing it against his heart, holding it there.

“I don’t know.” He admitted, his voice low and rough. “Maybe it’s the wine, or the music, or the fact that I’ve finally met someone I feel compelled to put effort into wooing.”

“Consider me wooed.”

He leaned in closer, his lips nearly touching her ear as he spoke, his voice low and rough.

“Just wait until I get you alone.” He whispered, his words laced with a seductive promise. “Then you’ll be feeling much more than just wooed.”

“There’s the Aegon I know.” She smiled. “A lustful fiend.”

Aegon chuckled in response, not denying her assessment. He had never shied away from his desires, and she knew that well.

“And you love it.” He countered with a cocky grin. He then leaned in closer, his voice a hushed whisper, breath warm against her ear.

“But I promise not to ravish you here, in front of all these people. There’s time for that later.”

“If not for the monumental political headache that would ensue... I wish you would.”

Aegon’s heart quickened at her words, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he imagined giving in to the impulse to ravish her right there, in front of the entire crowd. But he reigned himself in, his grip on her hand tightening as he exhaled shakily. His eyes darkened, a wicked grin playing on his lips.

“Don’t tempt me, my Lady.” He hissed lowly, his voice laced with barely restrained desire. “I’m already fighting the urge to drag you to the nearest empty room and have my way with you like a man starving.”

“You’re not the only one fighting urges, my Prince.”

Aegon’s breath hitched, his chest heaving with a mixture of desire and frustration. He could feel the heat of his need building within him, his body almost thrumming with pent-up desire. The fingers on her hand flexed, his grip tight as he struggled to maintain control. He leaned in closer, his voice sultry against her ear. “Do you have any idea just how badly I want you right now?”

“I do actually.” She spared a very quick glance to his trousers. Aegon’s smirk widened his eyes dark and intense as he caught her glance, understanding exactly what she was looking at. He shifted his position slightly, pressing his body closer against her side, the heat of his body searing through her.

“Then I’m sure you can see that I’m also having a rather... difficult time maintaining my composure.”

“Drink some water to smother the flames, my Prince.” She offered him a cup.

“As much as I’d enjoy doing a number of very improper things with you…” She spoke lowly has he took the cup from her hands. “We should not. At least not until we settle things with our families.” She took a sip of her wine.

“It’s not a prudish matter on my part. I merely believe that if we do things the proper way, they might be more easily swayed to betroth us.” She explained her thoughts.

Aegon grumbled quietly to himself. He knew she was right, that patience and restraint were necessary for this to work. He took a few moments to collect himself, taking a few slow and measured sips of water. He could feel the heat within him starting to simmer down, the urgency of his desire slowly yielding to reason. He set the cup down, his gaze shifting back to her.

“I hate waiting.”

She saw his impatient eye roll, the way he just slumped in his chair. It was endearing and it made her heart flutter. She smiled at him, shaking her head.

Across the table, Queen Alicent observed the interaction between Aegon and the young Lady Gaunt. While she was judgmental of Aegon courting — if that is what she could call such brazen behavior —someone he wasn’t betrothed to so openly, she saw something in her boy she had never seen before. He didn’t look at her like he did the other girls he chased after. He looked enamored. He almost seemed to glow around her with what Alicent could only describe as genuine infatuation. Something she didn’t think her boy was capable of. She should’ve stopped it by then, but her boy seemed happy, and she could not find it in her to deny him that respite. Her lady mother, however, looked very unhappy. And Alicent noticed. It seemed that her, and her family were cursed to never find love without trouble. That was the nature of duty.

Aegon’s brooding was interrupted when he felt his mother’s gaze on him. He looked across the table and found her studying him intently, a pensive look on her face. He gave her a quizzical look, silently questioning her scrutiny. She was rarely this contemplative in regards to him. But when she did get quiet like this, it usually meant she was calculating something. He found that his gaze was drawn back to his side, to her. And just like that, his annoyance at having to wait faded, replaced by a fluttery lightness. He was actually enjoying himself. The rest of the night went on with mostly innocent laughter and lingering looks. When it was time to retire to bed, Aegon bid her goodnight with another kiss to her knuckles and a silent promise in his eyes.

Aegon walked back to his chambers, his steps heavy and his heart burdened with a mix of hope and apprehension. The night had been more enjoyable than he ever thought it would, and yet the sight of her leaving had stirred worry and uncertainty within him. His mind was still fixed on her as he entered his chambers, and he barely noticed that his mother was waiting for him there.

“Son.” Her voice cut into his thoughts, drawing his attention. Aegon looked at her, and it was then that he realized that she too was troubled.

Alicent recognized the restless determination on her son, one that either would make her proud, or stir trouble. “We must talk about your behavior tonight.”

Aegon immediately flinched at her words. Aegon’s face immediately hardened at the sound of her voice, he senses the reproach in her tone. He bristled at her insinuation, his eyes flashing.

“What about it?” He inquired tightly, crossing his arms defensively across his chest.

“You were very brazenly courting Lady Gaunt.”

Aegon let out a sharp huff, his impatience flared at his mother’s statement. “Yes, I was.” He replied curtly, his voice and his demeanor both defiant. “And I plan to keep doing it.”

“To what end? To spoil the Lady, ruin her reputation, make an enemy of her father only toss her for the next?” Alicent knew it was harsh, but she knew her son, and she needed to press him for the truth.

Aegon’s eyes darkened, a sense of wounded anger welling up within him at his mother’s insinuation.

“No.” He said firmly, his voice tight yet resolute. “This isn’t just some fleeting fancy, mother. I want her. I want her to be my wife. I want to make her mine.” His heart beat fiercely in his chest, his conviction in what he said was absolute.

Alicent was... surprised. Aegon always bristled at any talk of marriage. Especially at the plans to betroth him to his sister. So to hear him state as such, was unexpected. And deeply troubling for she knew that such a union was unlikely.

“Is that the truth of your heart?” She asked him.

Aegon met his mother’s gaze head-on, his expression unflinching. “It is.” He replied without hesitation, his voice steadfast. “I cannot explain it, mother. She… she makes me want to be better.”

He paused for a moment, the memory of her face and the way she spoke to him filling his mind. He allowed a small smile to tug at the corner of his mouth. “I want to court her. I want to marry her. I want her to be the mother of my children.”

Alicent smiled with him. She had never seen Aegon look or speak that way. It broke her heart that it could never be.

“It’s a beautiful thought, my son.” She started. “It truly is.” She took a deep breath, she hated what her next words would be.

“But you know you cannot marry her, Aegon.”

His head snapped toward her and he took a step back.

“Her mother stated that her husband wishes for his daughter to marry a neighboring southern lord. As it befits their House. Lady Esme looked very displeased by your behavior tonight.”

Aegon’s heart twisted at her words, a knot of dread and frustration forming in his chest at the full realization of the obstacles between him and the one he wished to marry.

“I’m the Prince! What lord wouldn’t want to wed their daughter to one?” He questioned.

“None. But you cannot marry below your station, Aegon. House Gaunt is minor. There’s no benefit to the Crown is such union.”

“Why does it have to matter so much? For all intents and purposes I’m a second son. What hurt would it do to marry me off to a minor house?” He waved his hands in exasperation. “It’s not like the Crown is lacking for heir to build alliances with.” He said bitterly.

Alicent sighed. She was used to how stubborn her son was. He never truly understood the importance of alliance and politics. She knew it. Still, it did not make it less exhausting having to deal with him.

“Rhaenyra might be your father’s named heir…” She began. “But you are his first born son, Aegon. That is an irrefutable place of power.” She explained. “You must wed someone befitting of that status. Someone who could be your Queen.” She reasoned.

“I do not need a Queen. You know this.” He insisted.

He couldn’t understand why his mother could not accept that his father chose Rhaenyra. Not once had the King made a mention of him as his heir. And yet his mother treats him like the heir to the Iron Throne.

“Regardless of that, she’s still well below your station. And, house Targaryen needs to show strength.”

“Why not marry me to a Great House, then?” He shot back. “Marrying me to my sister doesn’t build alliances.” He hated the way she, and everyone else thought him completely stupid. He might not be as astute as Aemond, but he knew enough. Or at least he thought he did.

“No. It does not.” She acquiesced. “But, your sister has a dragon. It would be unwise to give another family access to such power. Helaena needs to remain with us.” She said.

“Marry her to Aemond! Daeron or even Jace! It accomplishes the same goal. It doesn’t have to be me.” He ran his hand through his hair. Why must every interaction with his mother be a battle. Why couldn’t she understand him?

“I’m not marrying your sister to Rhaenyra’s plain-featured bastard!” She bristled.

“Then don’t! You’re not lacking for sons, mother.”

“You’re being willfully obtuse, Aegon. You’re the firstborn son, you and your sister are dragon riders. It’s a powerful symbol of the Targaryen legacy.” She walks over to him, holding his face firmly between her hands. “When they look at the two of you, together, they’ll remember the strength of Aegon The Conqueror himself.”

“But I’m not Aegon The Conqueror, mother.” He said, and in his eyes she saw a vulnerability that made her want to turn away. “I’m far from it, it is plain for all to see.” His eyes were marred with tears. She hated it. She hated seeing her own weakness starring back at her.

“Aegon,” She began, but he cut her off.

“I’m not the heir to the Iron Throne. I’m not as great as those that have come before me. Perhaps, marrying a minor lady is exactly what is fitting for me.” He reasoned. His tone was a pleading one.

“Regardless of how you see your worth. You are the King’s firstborn son. And you… we have a duty to the realm.” She spoke lowly. “Even the young woman you fancy has a duty. She knows that she cannot marry above her station. Whatever infatuation you both have, it cannot last. That is the sacrifice we have to make for the good of the realm.”

“She desires this just as I do. Why can’t we serve the realm together? What harm would it bring to marry below versus marrying Helaena? We’d secure an alliance, small, but it would be ours.” His lips trembled, trying to convince her to see as he did.

“Would that it were so simple… Sometimes the heart speaks louder than reason, my darling.” She said. He let out a low sigh, his hands clenched into fists in front of her. It wasn’t his usual rebuff of his duties. There was a desperation in his eyes she had never seen before this day.

“You truly care for the girl, don’t you?” She ran her hand through his hair. Soft and clean, usually it was greasy and knotted. She could see the small changes in him, and she hoped they’d remain.

Aegon nodded, a quiet, almost bashful look crossing his features underneath his pleading eyes. “I do.” He admitted, his voice low and sincere. “She makes me feel alive.” He said wistfully. “She’s smart, and brave, and she doesn’t let me get away with anything. She challenges me… She sees me like no one else does.”

A hint of a smile crossed her lips. Aegon had always been emotional. Softer than one would expect for a boy. Try to hide it as he might, she often saw the tears marring his eyes, and the tremble of his lips. He wasn’t the strong independent son she expected to have. He reminded her of her own self. The one that died when he was born. That naïve hope that things could be simpler. She wished he’d understand, like she eventually did, that for people like them; duty would always come first. There was no room for love in the face of the realm’s needs.

“She makes me feel as though I’m not quite as broken.” When he spoke his voice was small. He loathed to admit to it, but he couldn’t stop himself.

Broken.

Alicent’s eyes filled with tears. Never had she thought he’d speak so plainly to her, or admit such pain. And she trembled at the undeniable fact that she had a hand in his tears.

“Sounds like she truly has your heart.” She said, her hands squeezed his shoulders. “But you need to let her go, Aegon. There’s no love in our duty, only sacrifice. And the sooner you accept it, the less it’ll hurt.” She placed a kiss upon his brow, and with a sad smile, she bid him goodnight. Leaving him alone in his chambers.

The young Lady Gaunt and her mother, the Lady Esme, had walked back silently to the guest chambers they were staying in. The silence was tense and foreboding. She knew what was coming. And sure enough, as soon as the doors were closed and they were both left alone; her mother struck her face. Her eyes immediately welled up with tears, her hand came up to cup her stinging cheek. Her mother never bothered hitting her before, her words had always been enough to drive her point across. It shocked her. She was stunned into silence in the middle of their room has her mother paced around before facing her again.

“You have always found ways to disappoint me. It’s nothing new.” Lady Esme started. “But this? This was the one time you had to do well. For the good of our House.” She didn’t yell, she knew not to cause a scene in the Red Keep. Too proud to threaten House Gaunt’s reputation.

She stepped forward towards the girl. “I’ve spent the last three moons working hard to find you a good match, and you’ve ruined every single one of them.” Another step forward. “And as if that wasn’t enough for you, then you go on to whore yourself to the Prince!” Esme turned away and paced.

“We didn’t do anything, mother.” The girl said weakly, fingering the twin star pendant on her necklace.

“I don’t care what happened or didn’t happen. The way you behaved… People talk. If they think you’ve sullied yourself then no lord will want you.” She said irritated. “You know how important it is that you marry well, and yet you willfully put yourself in a position that could jeopardize our entire house!” Esme took a deep breath.

“What will your father think? When he hears of your behavior? Hmm? All his hard work thrown away by an ungrateful child.”

“But mother,” She’s cut off by another slap to her opposite cheek.

“I don’t want to hear your excuses. I’m tired of having to deal with your insolence.” Lady Esme said through her teeth. “Why do the gods punish me so? Your sister would’ve never done this to me. She, unlike you, would never spit in the face of all I’ve done for you.”

Her words were nothing new to the young woman. She had been hearing any variant of comparison with her sister for years by then. It still didn’t make them hurt any less.

“Maxine was the future our family deserved. Not whatever you have turned out to be.” Esme looked at her with disgust.

For a moment, neither of them said anything. And then, Esme turned toward her daughter with tears in her eyes. Angry tears. “It should have been you.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“That day; I always knew it should have been you.” She shook her head, then held her daughter’s gaze.

“If the gods had chosen to forfeit your life that day, we would all have been better for it.”

The girl’s breath hitched. Her mother’s words were like a knife gutting her like hunters would do to the carcasses of their prey.

“Even that, you couldn’t do right.” Esme gave a mirthless smile. “You had to take Maxine from us, and had to saddle us with you.” Esme sniffled.

“We’ll be leaving tomorrow after dinner.” She stated. “I’m not giving any more time to ruin us more than you already have.”

The Lady’s words hung heavily in the room. The girl would not find sleep that night. The hurt on her chest so great she had forgotten entirely about earlier thoughts of hope, of a sweet and playful future with Aegon. And she couldn’t help but think her mother had been right. She only ever ruined things. An endless disappointment. In truth, Aegon would probably forget about her as soon as the sun rose. And her hopes and dreams were naught but follies, fated to fade away into nothingness.

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[squidthesquidd]

Odo :) in lwaxanas outfits cus im insane. he deserves to be put in weird dresses with super high side slits and thigh-high socks <3 it started as figure drawing practice but then star trek got me and strangled me until i made it odo

also i gave him silly ears cus of my bajoran redesign cus they r armadillos to me 💥💥💥💥

also yeah this is drag queen au

ouugggghhhh i cant for the life of me figure out his face. he looks too... young when i draw him. but i cant add like wrinkles and stuff cus hes literally completely smooth?? someone help me