#also i will eventually post this on ao3

[tswwwit]

Cipher's Personal Portable Portal

'How they meet' won the poll!

So just to make things fully contextualized, as far as they're gonna be - here's the full first chunk of this stupidly long fic I'm writing.

I hope you enjoy!

Standing in the wreckage of the burnt-out building, Dipper wishes he didn’t know who did it.

Anyone else would have left some trace sign. A scrape of blood, a hint of burnt hair. A friggin’ decent eyewitness report, even.

But here, like last time, and the time before that, and the time before that - there's absolutely zero traces. No video footage, nobody around at the time of the crime. Not even footprints.

Dipper kicks one of the remaining supports, sending a puff of charcoal up from the impact. 

If he knew the bastard’s name, he’d curse it all to hell.

With a sigh of exhaustion, Dipper sits on a chunk of scorched foundation. He pulls his shoe off to tip the ashes out of it; there’s enough that the resulting cloud leaves him coughing. 

Around him, the scoured west wing of the museum is silent, still, and empty. A grey-black skeleton of its former self, filled with dust and charcoal.

This arson is yet another one in a very, very long line of crimes. They’re not just ‘unrelated incidents’, or ‘bizarre coincidences’. Dipper’s not ‘being paranoid’ or ‘coming up with some pretty weird conspiracy theories’. 

There’s only one person who could manage this. The same guy who turned a bank upside down - literally -  and the same one who impaled a mob boss on an oversized silly straw and gave tails to half of a household last week.

It’s all connected.

Each crime is marked with the same style, mostly by how remarkably weird they are. Along with a thread of magic, distinct in its composition. One so distinctive that it's almost a flavor. Though admittedly, without certain magical analysis, it’s pretty hard to detect. 

And if other freelance magicians would take the time and look at Dipper’s notes, maybe one of them would help find this asshole.

Dipper stalks through the burned building, fists balled in his pockets. He stumbles over a fallen support column, and nearly trips before he makes a hopping retreat back. 

Though the culprit has been at his game - whatever ‘game’ that is - for a good half a year now, this is the most destructive ‘incident’ so far. Nobody was hurt, since it happened in the middle of the night. The one relief from a terrible crime, that only objects were obliterated in the process - 

But the ashes speak for themselves.

Here, there’s nothing left.

He breathes in slowly. Then regrets the attempt at calming himself as he coughs again.

Whatever the culprit’s initial motive was, it hasn’t lasted. He’s grown not only in ambition, but also in his abilities. Things are escalating at a rate Dipper doesn’t like to think about.

Someone has to get to the bottom of this. Before it’s too late. Dipper’s got his number, metaphorically speaking, so. Well, might as well be him. 

And when he proves that all of this chaos was created by the same person - 

Well. A little boost to his meager reputation couldn’t hurt. Maybe a few medals and accolades. There isn’t a trophy for best monster hunter, but he can imagine standing on a podium and -

Dipper waves that thought off, swearing under his breath. Stupid. He has better things to focus on.

He’s the only freelancer on the case. Definitely the only one taking this seriously, the only one who thinks it’s the same person to begin with -  and even he’s starting to have some doubts about ever finding the bastard. 

Six months of tracking this guy down, and what does he have to show for it? A ramshackle compilation of incidents, a vague feeling of magic, and a description that could fit any bottle-blond actor with bad fashion sense. Scraps. He might as well pin them up and connect them with red string for all the good it does him.

Another kick sends Dipper hopping back, clutching his foot with a swear. He winces at the hole in the tip, he nearly punctured his foot on a nail.

Just his luck. Wrong place, wrong time, always just barely avoiding disaster. Dipper shows up whenever there’s an event, he’s got the means to follow the guy - but he’s always just a little too late.

Even worse, lately the guy’s been picking places… not at random, exactly. More like he causes trouble wherever it’d be the most annoying to follow.

The culprit must know someone is on his trail. But he’s not making it impossible to keep up, or even majorly difficult for a determined pursuer. Just really, really irritating, like making moves at three in the morning, or pausing just long enough for someone to catch up, then heading right back where he came from. At one point Dipper had to trudge through a literal swamp, only to find that bastard had sauntered in by baking himself a neat little trail right through the damn thing. There wasn’t even footprints to follow.

It’s a repeated point in Dipper’s notes. Whoever this is, they’re a total, absolute dick.

With a sigh, Dipper runs his fingers through the ash on the museum’s floor. Not a single thing is left beyond the shattered glass of some display cases, and the charred remains of the building. Even the enchanted metal tools have been melted into slag. 

The day before yesterday, he could tell something was up. Building energy, something that felt like it was made by the culprit. Something with the twinge of a powerful curse, coiled and being wound up like a spring. 

Dipper spent that evening convincing - okay, maybe also bribing, thank you Stan for the idea - the museum to let him borrow materials. The day after that, he spent all night, morning, and most of the afternoon running around slapping up anti-curse emblems. The entire south of the city warded, in a fine careful net of spellcraft. The work was exhausting. Both in running around, and in the amount of magic he’d needed to use.

But it was worth it. That evening, in the quiet and very uncursed city, all the emblems activated. Dipper would have sworn he sensed someone in the distance, cursing his own name. That night he went to bed with a smug sense of satisfaction, floating on a cloud of triumph.

Which is probably why the bastard burned down the museum next.

With another sigh, Dipper tucks his notebook back into his knapsack. He’s gleaned all he’s going to for today; in the fading evening light, searching more is pointless.

So much for all the magical artifacts. Most of those had come in really useful in messing with the guy. 

…How the hell did the culprit know where they came from, though? He’d need a near encyclopedic knowledge of artifacts to know which ones Dipper used, then track them back to their origin. 

Or maybe he just searched on the internet. It’s hard to tell.

Dipper just wishes there were more clues. But just like every other incident, the guy up and freakin’ vanished.

No human can disappear like that without some very irresponsible use of power. That hope is one Dipper’s hanging his hat on. After six months? He has to be reaching his limits. He’ll burn himself out before he can manage too many more incidents. Maybe Dipper will find him by stumbling on his withered, dissolving corpse.

Whoever this is is pretty strong, but no power is infinite. He can’t hide forever.

It can’t be too much longer. Won’t be. Dipper has a plan, he’s gotten really close, and - He’s good at his job, damn it. He knows he is. 

Taking a deep, slow breath, Dipper lets it out. Patience is the name of the game here. He’s just gotta keep moving.

One day, he’s going to catch up with that bastard. He’ll see the guy in the flesh. Then he’ll grab that stupid dick before he can escape, again, and wipe that presumably smug look off his probably ugly face.

Turning around one last time, Dipper surveys the destruction, stuffs his hands in his pockets - and pauses. 

A speck of light glints in the pile of ash. The last bit of evening sun, shining off a metallic surface.

Alert with surprise, Dipper scrambles over to the pile. Kneeling down, he brushes the dust carefully aside, careful not to disturb anything fragile that might shatter if handled wrong. 

One thing did survive. Thank fuck, it’s not an absolute total loss. Just, uh… Ninety-nine percent of it.

He scuffles through the still-warm ashes, cupping his palms underneath the lump and lifting it from its bed. The motion sends white puff rising up as ash slips away from the artifact.

A small black, squarish thing rests on the pile, a bit larger than both his palms put together. The material is faintly warm from residual heat, insulated by the ash it laid in - and there’s not a mark on it. Not even a scratch. 

Dipper turns the artifact over in his hands with a frown. The shining black surface reveals no obvious buttons or secrets. Just a kind of phone-ish shape, though more square and squat. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say a guest dropped it on the rush to escape. 

The fact that it’s still intact though. Nearly glowing with magic, a tremulous feeling under his palms - this is not dropped by some clumsy tourist. Not even Ford could put this together.

 Wiping at the object with his sleeve, Dipper manages to clean off most of the smooth surface. On one of the sides, dust clings to the thinnest of engravings. The very faint outline of an equilateral triangle. No runes or other magical scribing, just… a shape.

Dipper thinks back but - no, he doesn’t remember seeing this in the collection. A quick check online reveals…

Basically nothing. There are - were - a bunch of stone and metal slabs in the archives, all described so poorly as to be useless. Some are even bunched up in groups. ‘Magical slab 1-24’ and ‘Metal artifact 1-78’, no description involved.

Not surprising. Probably dug up in some mass excavation site, transported here, then never really looked at again. The bulk nature of the shipment means it was overlooked, its magical properties never discovered.

After today, he’s just glad that even one item escaped this onslaught. 

The other artifacts must not have had much to them. But some magical property in this artifact’s making must have saved it from the blaze. Fireproofing, perhaps? Against weird fire? That’s unusual. Maybe even unique.

As the only survivor, it really needs investigating. 

Dipper glances over his shoulder, then around. With everyone evacuated, it’s quiet in the rubble. Nobody here would notice if, say… a clue wandered off.

The artifact slips easily into his pocket. The shape conveniently looks just like a phone, even if the shape’s a bit off. Not something that would attract any attention.

Whistling nonchalantly, ducking out of the way of local law enforcement and any onlookers - Dipper makes his escape. 

Another day of pursuit. Another scene of disaster, the culprit there and gone in the blink of an eye. 

He’ll be up to something new, next. Never the same thing twice, never in the same place. 

Dipper will follow in his evil tracks, of course. But for tonight - his fate is another crappy hotel room. 

He ditches his backpack by the door, slumping against the wall and its chipped paint. He could start going through his notes, and the pictures of the arson. Put in more work, find further connections - 

But it’s been a long day, and he’s tired. He might be magical, but he’s only got so much to work with. A reasonable night’s sleep, if he can manage, will make the task loom less horribly over his tired brain.

With a sigh, he drops back on the mattress. There’s some bounce to it, springs squeaking like they’re full of mice. Hell, maybe they are. The type of room he can afford isn’t exactly decadent.

That, though, should be temporary. Dipper’s career is only just starting; freelancers in the ‘solving magical problems’ scene don’t get great rates. Especially as a beginner. Definitely without a partner; it makes him look super young. Like he’s just starting out, fresh-faced and not having any inroads.

Because this field is really stupid, and doesn’t pay attention to results. Dipper’s been fine on his own for years, and he’s done really cool things without that ‘networking’ crap. 

All by himself. Totally cool with that, because Dipper’s a cool guy, sometimes. If Mabel hypes him up enough on one of their phone calls, he almost believes it too.

Though it would be nice to have some backup, it’s hard to find someone who really gets the job. Or does it in the way that Dipper goes about it. The number of people who are willing to take long treks in hyper-magical territory to search for an obscure clue, or set up really complicated traps for  dangerous monsters, or talk over high-level magical theory while sitting in the rain all night just to get one body-snatcher are…

Well, besides Ford, who recently retired, there aren’t any. Only Dipper himself.

One day, things are going to change for him. All his effort will pay off. If he keeps solving mysteries, and fighting monsters, he’ll forge a reputation as someone who always gets the job done. No matter how hard it is, he can handle it. The work is picking up, too. The last six months have shown the biggest series of magical incidents in decades. 

And he’s gonna be the one to get to the bottom of it.

Dipper Pines, the guy who proved it’s all connected. He’ll have it laid out in facts and math, all the evidence. They’re all gonna see that he was totally right.

Once he finally gets this guy, everything’s going to start looking up. 

The sheets rustle as Dipper settles back, holding the artifact up over himself. He stares into the black surface, and a slightly distorted reflection narrows its eyes back at him. 

A good mystery always intrigues him. This one should take his mind off the other, irritating one for a while.

The only remaining object from the fire is clean and smooth. A mysterious creation, of unknown purpose. Clearly riddled with magic, too; Dipper feels it running just under the surface like a rapid current. It gives the artifact a weight that has nothing to do with mass. 

Power.

Did the criminal see this artifact, still intact after all the other magical objects were gone? Did he try to destroy it too, and fail? Or simply not notice he’d missed one out of thousands?

Whatever it is, it’s got a lot more going on than meets the eye.

Dipper casts a quick identifier, which comes back with nothing. He’s not surprised. That’s the first thing anyone would try. If it was that simple, he’d already have the full description off the site. 

With a shrug, he traces another set of runes, his own version, adding a little more oomph behind it - 

And the magic leaps back instantly, with the bizarre sensation of a bouncy ball hitting concrete.

“Huh,” Dipper says, thoughtfully. He sits up, hunching over the slab in his hands. “Now that’s new.”

A more subtle approach, then. Tracing the lines of energy with the barest brush of magic upon magic reveals something deeply complex. Thin layers twist together deep under the surface, building an entire circulatory system. Dipper has to put it down for a moment, suddenly worried that it is organic. 

When a cautious prod doesn’t get a response, he relaxes. Not fleshy, just complicated. Which also proves he was right earlier - the artifact’s just as powerful as he’d thought. The spellcraft is unlike anything he’s ever seen. 

Dipper rubs his hands together, starting to smile. 

Even if he doesn’t find the guy he’s after, figuring this out could be a heck of a win.

Several attempts later, he’s beginning to get why this bastard brick got tossed in with all the other junk. 

Nothing here is working. It simply deflects. Standard spells poing off of it like rubber, while giving his magical senses an odd, back-of-the brain afterimage of a circle with a slash through it; a firm ‘nah’. 

Dipper nearly chucks the thing across the room in frustration, before shutting his eyes and taking several, calming breaths. 

Okay, weird thing, weird enchantment. The ordinary stuff won’t work. The magical logic is… twisted in a way that leaves it incompatible with most everything. He’ll have to find a different approach. 

“What are you?” Dipper says, low and frustrated. He gives the artifact a shake, as if he can knock the secrets out like a rock from a shoe. “What secrets are you hiding in there?” 

No response, not that he expected one. With a wry smile, he taps the sleek surface with a finger, twice. “C’mon, man. Talk to me.” 

Huge yellow letters flash onto the black surface. 

HEY

Dipper throws the artifact, a bit awkwardly since he’s lying on his back. It sails in the air in a high thin arc, landing with a thump between his legs. He scoots rapidly backward, sheets pulling up behind him. 

The artifact lies where it landed, an unmoving brick.  There’s magic in the air now, but no sense of any spell building, ready to unleash power to blow his face off. The latent spellcraft of the artifact has just been activated.

More text displays on the surface, bare except for the glowing letters. 

To the jerk that’s swiped my private stuff: You got some nerve! I expect this back by interdimensional mail in a week, or trust me - there will be consequences.

Dipper waits a full minute before he lets go of the headboard. Tentatively, he kneels near the…

 Is this a phone? 

Clearly it’s a communication device of some sort, with the freaking text messages. A phone is the obvious equivalent, only - he thought it looked far older than that, something way before mobile phones. Possible ancient. Is that a coincidence, maybe, or is it secretly modern?

Dipper taps the ‘screen’, just below the glowing words. To his surprise, there’s actually a keyboard, what the hell. This thing keeps getting weirder.

Since it hasn’t already thrown a horrible curse at him, or burst into flames - it’s reasonably safe to assume that it’s simply ‘on’. Not ‘explosive’. 

With hands that are definitely not shaking, he picks it up, and types,

Who is this? 

His own text pops up in blue. A strange contrast to the yellow, but he’s guessing it’s for convenience - there’s no bubbles to tell who’s said what otherwise.

A few seconds of nervous waiting later, there’s a response. 

Oh hey, you answered! Well, human - You’re talking to the one and only Bill Cipher, Dream Demon, all-powerful master of the Mindscape! I’d say it’s nice to meet ya but you’re not supposed to have a direct line to me!

Dipper raises an eyebrow. 

Now that’s one hell of an introduction. It might even have been interesting, if it didn’t smell of complete bullshit. 

Complicated spellwork, sure. Incomprehensible architecture? Maybe. Dipper can admit it; he’s never seen anything with a web of spells on it this complex, in such small of a package.

But the idea that Dipper just stumbled onto a demonic artifact of all things. One that wasn’t instantly detected, recorded, then ritually destroyed is…

Someone’s fucking with him. 

Dipper rolls his eyes as he types back,

Really? Demon? You can’t expect me to believe that. 

What, you calling me a liar? ‘Cause I am, but not about this! I got better things to mislead mortals about. This is my property, not something for your grubby mortal mitts.

Dipper snorts. Guess this person’s sticking with the bit. Obviously whoever created this would want it back - but too bad. Whether they’re delusional, stupid, or just a flat-out liar, they’re really good at enchanting. It’d be a waste not to study their work. 

He lies back on the bed as he replies.

Sure, have fun roleplaying, or whatever, it doesn’t make a difference. Finders keepers, losers weepers.

ARE YOU CALLING ME A LOSER. MORTAL.

Hmm, I’m detecting a certain amount of ‘crying about it’, so. Yeah. Suck it, loser.

Smirking, Dipper settles back - then his half-smile drops, as he holds the ‘phone’ a little further away from himself. 

Though the blue fire building up in the screen looks like a bad sticker effect, the artifact’s also getting a alarmingly warm. It vibrates in his hands - then suddenly stops, cooling down. 

Ha! Alright, alright, I admit - you got some balls.

Maybe you’ll change your tune once you REALLY know what you’re dealing with! Might wanna check the connection, if you’re even capable of it! Mortal magic doesn’t reach across dimensions!

With a grimace, Dipper taps his fingers on the phone. It’s slightly cooler now, but still worryingly reactive to… whatever happened on the other end. 

Damn. Whoever this is, they’re not only really really good at enchanting, they’re also pretty confident that tracking them down won’t spoil their game. The confidence exuding from this ‘Bill’s’ words feels genuine.

Honestly, though, the suggestion is a good one. Dipper should have tried to trace the call the second he knew someone else was on the line. 

Maybe ‘Bill’ thinks he won’t manage to find him. Joke’s on him, though; Dipper’s amazing at finding stuff. He’s the best tracker of magical anything in years. Maybe decades. With a solid, stable connection right in front of him? Hell, he could do this one in his sleep. 

Time to call the bluff.

He casts the tracing spell, though it takes longer than usual. A few gestures and muttered ritual aren’t gonna cut it; he has to improvise around the strange construction of the enchantment. Even trailing along the magic seems harder than usual, like it resists mixing with his own, and it takes him a few attempts to match the signal. 

Once he finds the right way to tune it… the lead snaps along the already-existing connection, and zips away to find its source.

The line extends out from the shabby hotel room, a plucked string in Dipper’s senses. It twists around the phone, rising slowly. Invisibly passing through the walls and the - 

Ceiling? Dipper looks up on instinct, even though nothing is visible.

From there it swirls around in the air like a silly straw on steroids, and then - out, very far, in a way that isn’t up or down or left or right, just  

Away.

Dipper has to cut off the tracing spell before vertigo has him reeling. The swirling sense of standing on top of a skyscraper is followed by a flip in his stomach. That he’s using a device he barely understands that reaches out into something even more incomprehensible.

He drops the phone-artifact, trying to clear his head by shaking it rapidly. 

That’s not nearby. Not on this planet. Possibly, genuinely, not even in this dimension. 

Shit. Bill wasn’t bluffing.

Dipper wipes sweating palms on the sheets. To pick up the phone again takes an effort, willing himself to grasp it in unsteady hands.

A demon. 

All the monsters he’s fought, curses he’s broken, years of work tucked into his belt, and he’s never seen one of those. 

Demons are dangerous, evil, and very, very powerful. Consorting with them is by all accounts a terrible idea. He should never have picked this up. He should hang up, and throw the damn artifact out the window, hoping that nobody else makes as dumb a mistake as he just did. 

On the screen, there’s a long long scroll of yellow letters, filling the entire surface. ‘HA HA HA HA’ over and over and over again. 

Before he can think better of it, Dipper starts a response. He’s halfway through a sentence - what the fuck, that’s not funny- before he pauses.

Terrible evil monster. Stupid powerful. Probably Bill sensed the tracing of the connection, like he did with Dipper’s other testing. Bill wanted the result startle him. Because he thinks it’s funny.

Dipper grits his teeth, and glares at the screen. 

Actually, screw this guy. Dipper’s keeping the stupid phone. If for no other reason than spite. This ‘Bill’ guy seems pretty full of himself, like he’s totally above some human. He’s in for a bad time, then, because Dipper’s not going to let one little surprise scare him off.

Besides.  The average guy would get into horrible, even deadly trouble, whereas Dipper… sort of knows what he’s doing.  No, he is good at his job. Finding secrets, solving mysteries, thwarting evil jerks who think they’re oh-so-hilarious, the whole shebang. He does it all.

Taking another breath, hissing through clenched teeth - Dipper lets it out. Losing his temper isn’t going to help deal with an extradimensional being. He has to be careful.

He thinks for a long moment before he responds. 

Okay. Let’s say I believe you. Maybe. Then you should know I didn’t steal your… whatever this is. I found it lying around, and I just. Got kind of curious. 

HA HA HA! Of course you were! Careful with that impulse, kid, it kills more than just cats!

A jerk who definitely thinks he’s hilarious. Dipper rolls his eyes, then, rather pettily, decides to ignore that statement. 

More pressing questions take the lead. Like what the fuck he’s holding right now, and if there are any other nasty tricks in store. A little bit of him, bubbling under the surface, wonders what being a demon is like. What they get up to, common habits. Ways they could be tracked down and, y’know, defeated, maybe. 

Theoretically, he’s got a line to a bunch of innocent, totally not-thwarting-related information that could be super useful to someone trying to, maybe, be a super cool monster-fighter.

Dipper backspaces a bunch over some poorly thought out questions. First things first. Like what the hell he’s holding right now.

So. What is this?

Good question! The gadget you’re poking at with your sweaty meat-paws is paired to the one I have here at my place. A little one-on-one communication assistant, if you will. Once you started groping around with your magic, it wasn’t hard to tell someone had picked it up!

Dipper raises an eyebrow. Though he already has an idea… a little confirmation never hurts. 

Like, you got a notification? Or literally felt?

The latter! Kinda like smell, but by touching things with your eyeballs. And with all your prodding around you might as well have been stinking up the place! Your spells aren’t real subtle!

Hey, they’re subtle! Having weird extra senses is just cheating.

Sucks to be human, then! In that you suck at everything! What’s a LOSER like you gonna do about it?

Dipper nearly throws the stupid artifact again - but he holds back, gripping it tight. Instead he sits up, leaning down and hauling his backpack up from the side of the bed. 

Maybe Bill thinks he can’t do anything. That he’s some ignorant nobody, who doesn’t have any real skills or talent or doesn’t have any friends - but he’s got that wrong. Dipper’s not a loser. Bill’s not getting away with that bullshit.

One quick unzip and a bit of rifling around later, he finds what he was looking for. Carefully, Dipper bounces the heft of a flashlight battery in his hand. Shutting his eyes, he focuses on crafting a quick working.

Magic is all about energy, and its direction. Focusing power, conveying it from one place to another. Pushing anything across dimensions would take impossible amounts of energy, stuff Dipper doesn’t have. If it weren’t for a very convenient connection, already in his hand.

Dipper has nothing on hand to actually exorcise the guy - he’s not sure that’s even possible when Bill’s where he should be - but retribution is in order.

More text lines appear on the artifact. He ignores them. Changing this up to work with the demon device is a challenge, but after figuring out how to alter the tracking spell changing this one up isn’t hard. He adjusts the flow of magic this way, into the tangle of not-veins in the device that way, finishes the chant-

Then touches his tongue to the battery.

The jolt passes through him painlessly, following the spell. It zips along his nerves, down into his hand and from there - into the artifact itself. 

Where it should, theoretically end up right at that bastard.

Dipper tosses the battery back into his backpack. Picking up the ‘phone’, hunching over to stare at the screen. 

That worked. He felt the energy move… unless he got the math wrong. Or a detail of his spell. Or maybe demons are immune to electricity, and he just did something totally pointless. 

God. It might even prove Bill right, and wouldn’t that be the worst - 

The next line of text comes in. 

What the hell? A joy buzzer? That’s some real petty prank stuff! You seriously pulled that bullshit? And across dimensions?

A tense pause. Dipper taps the phone, checking for it heating up again - but another line pops up after a few seconds.

Y’know what, kid? I think I might actually like you! You’re FEISTY.

Dipper nearly does a double-take. 

But no, that - what? Aren’t demons supposed to be vengeful? He was half-sure he’d have to chuck the phone out the window before it exploded in his hands. 

In fact, you’re in luck! ‘Cause I’m pretty bored, and I can totally show you how to improve that jinx of yours! If you can keep up with a little theory, that is.

Because that’s not suspicious or anything. Conversation with a demon can only lead to ruin and disaster. He should absolutely, definitely stop this right in its tracks.

Still, Dipper shrugs, and types, 

Try me.

[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.

Tag List: @still-jon-snow

Links: Ko-fi | Commissions

[skyward-floored]

Whumptober 2024 Masterlist

Here's the list of fics so far this year, I'll try and keep this updated as I go! And as always, you can read all of these on ao3.

Day 1 - (Race against the clock, panic attack) feat. Wild & Twilight

Day 2 - (Role reversal) feat. Wind & Legend

Day 3 - ((bloody) fingerprints) feat. Warriors & Time

Day 4 - (Hallucinations, “You’re still alive in my head”) feat. Wild, Sky, Twilight and Warriors

Day 5 - (Sunburn, heatstroke) feat. Four & Hyrule

Day 6 - (Healed wrong, “it’s not my blood”) feat. Legend

Day 7 - (Only for emergencies, magic with a cost) feat. Time & Legend

Day 8 - (sleep deprivation, forced to stay awake) feat. Sky & Warriors

Day 9 - (Broken window) feat. Wind & others

Day 10 - (Passing out from pain) feat. Hyrule

Day 11 - (Seeing double) feat. Wild & ...Wild

Day 12 - ("Just a little more", (starvation)) feat. Warriors and Sky continuation of day 8

Day 13 - (Multiple whumpees (familial curse)) feat. Twilight & everyone

Day 14 - (Shivering (left for dead)) feat Hyrule & Wild

Day 15 - (Moment of clarity (childhood trauma)) - feat. Wind & Four

Day 16 - (Swamp, "No, I can't feel anything") feat. Hyrule & Time (+ others)

Day 17 - (Venom, “we had a good run”) feat. Sky, Twilight, & Warriors

Day 18 - (Revenge) feat. Legend & everyone continuation of day 10

Day 19 - (Blood trail, abandoned cabin) feat. Four, Wild, & the Colors

Day 20 - (Emotional angst, Shoulder to Cry On, Giving Permission to Die, “It’s not your fault.”) feat. Time, Malon, & Epona

Day 21 - (Spirit possession) feat. Wind & Sky

Day 22 - (Bleeding through bandages, "oh that's not good") feat. Time & Twilight

Day 23 - (Forced choice, secrets revealed, (public display)) feat. Warriors & Legend

Day 24 - (Equipment failure) feat. Four & the colors (Vio)

Day 25 - (Surgery) feat. Wild & Time

Day 26 - (Nightmare, regret) feat. Legend & Hyrule (everyone) continuation of days 10 and 18

Day 27 - (Voiceless, "I have no mouth and I must scream") feat. Wind + others

Day 28 (No-holds-barred beatdown, exposure, used as bait) feat. Twilight & everyone continuation of day 13

...

[stabbyfoxandrew]

you know what's fucking insane though???

it's only been 3 days in the mafia front fic. THREE DAYS= ~34k. (so far, we're still on day three rn)

wow i'm truly insane. three days... mein gott

(potential spoilers for this fic in tags???)

[sundere1181]

I take your 2012 Leo writing Space Heroes fanfiction and I give you: 2012 Raph making fan art for Leo’s fics

[onepiecebrained]

cropped quickie

earlier:

[solarpunkani]

Minor W for the solarpunk zombie story, we finally reached the front gate of the town GOD BLESS

Already shoving other OCs into the project as minor characters

Now the problem.....

I am overthinking EVERYTHING

[choccy-milky]

Hey! Is the comic version of your fic available to read anywhere, or only the "regular" written version on AO3? I love the comic, the art is so cool!

aw thank you!!🥰 unfortunately there's no actual full comic version of my fic, since as cool as that would be, i think my hand might ACTUALLY fall off if i attempted to draw the entire thing, bahaha. all the drawings i do based on it are just snippets/scenes of moments that i decide to draw, and i do at least 1 drawing for each chapter to have some accompanying art. tho my fic isn't only on ao3, its on wattpad as well, if you prefer to read there!

i dont! everything you see on my tumblr is all the HL art i have (save for the NSFW stuff thats only on twitter.) im glad you like my art so much, ty!! ive had requests to draw other characters (mostly garreth BAHAHA) tho i only have motivation to draw what im hyperfixated on (which is seb/clora atm LOL) so i most likely wont be drawing other characters unless the mood randomly strikes me, since this is all just for my own enjoyment. i wont say its impossible that i draw others, just unlikely bahaha. also it MAY be for the best that i dont try my hand at drawing fig, since i have no idea how to draw people who arent young and beautiful LMAO 💀 (sorry fig, you're beautiful in your own way!!) and thank you again!!💖💖

[darkwing-katy]

Accidentally wrote something kinda cute and angsty for the Lost Halloween fic prompt a few days ago.

Actually, both of the stories I’ve plucked out of the consciousness of the universe are a bit angsty. I dunno where the heck this came from from, but it’s there, and I really like where both of them are going because we need more Dad!Ben and Kid!Alex fics in the world, but hot damn, as cute as they are, they’re also bittersweet.

My subconscious must be in a weird mood.

Also I’m weird about publishing stuff when I think it’s ready, so it might be the very end of the month before I actually put them on AO3. I like to let my fics marinate before I edit them. Anyone else do this?

[jakes3resin]

So if I wrote something on my phone while my laptop was missing but what I wrote is neither Stalag Arc nor is it Jealous Biker Gale, how would we feel about a surprise fic drop once I clean it up?

[devoraqs]

With Love's Light Wings

Summary:

"With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls; For stony limits cannot hold love out," - Romeo and Juliet, Act II scene ii Julian and Alexander make the most of a convenient gap in Julian's time onstage in the latest Goldgrave play (even if it means scaling too many flights of stairs)

Pairing: Ilyacha

Characters: Julian Devorak, Alexander MacRionnag

Word Count: 6,165 (full fic on AO3, link at the bottom)

Content Warnings: explicit smut

---

“ A plague o' both your houses! They have made worms' meat of me: I have it, And soundly too: your houses!”

His arm flung haphazardly around Mateusz, who was playing Benvolio’s neck, Julian staggered off stage into the stage left wing, his fist clenched around the reddening splotch in his shirt where Mercutio had been stabbed, and where Alexander knew was a little red pouch of reddened oil that burst on impact. Dryly he thought it didn’t look like what it actually looked like when one was stabbed, but for the purposes of the drama it worked well. Sitting in the aisle seat a few rows back from the stage, Alexander’s own fingers were curled round a scrap of paper that Julian had quickly pushed into his hands earlier, upon which was scribbled Meet me in the rafters after my death scene. Beside him, Caspian sniffed, completely engrossed and barely even noticing when Alexander quietly got to his feet and slipped away unnoticed through a series of doors, stairs, and ladders up to the fly loft.  

Continue on AO3

[puhpandas]

Take Me Home 1, 2

(to see new chapters release, sub on ao3 :))

(3227 words)

When Cassie wakes for the second time, it's not with a pounding head and limbs as heavy as iron. No. This time, her awareness of the world rolls in smoothly, and all she feels when she wakes fully is faint buzzing throughout her body.

She revels in it; the fact that theres no pain. She doesn't think too hard about why, she just shifts, moving to stretch her limbs, but hisses when going to move her arm sends a wave of soreness pain up her arm.

She grits her teeth, yelping and suddenly re-entering the world fully when the pain throws her into alertness.

Her eyes shoot open, and she moves to sit up in bed, heart racing when all she can remember is last being in the dark, dingy, falling apart Pizzaplex, but she calms when all she can see is someone's bedroom.

"...Huh?" She mumbles, her mind still not having fully caught up to her yet. She glances around the room, painted a pale blue, with furniture tucked against the neighboring walls and flowing curtains covering most of the sunlight filtering through the window, a light breeze ruffling them.

Movement catches her attention in the corner of her eye, and she glances over just in time for Gregory to snort awake, eyes trailing across her, not really seeing her, until they blow wide in recognition.

"Cassie!" Gregory exclaims, rushing to stand up from the position he was in where he had been sitting in a chair, laying his head in his arms, hunched over on the bed. "You're finally awake!"

Cassie feels her heart warm when she realizes that Gregory had been waiting for her to wake up by her bedside, never leaving her prescence. Long enough for him to fall asleep. Her heart slows to a normal rate when she sets eyes on him, immediately feeling at ease, and she breaths a deep breath, shifting to sit up more and allowing Gregory to help her when he rushes over.

She hisses when the movement jostles her leg and arm, and she finally takes a good look at them, realizing that at some point, in her sleep, her cardigan had been taken off, leaving her in her button-up, and her shoes and socks had been discarded, leaving her in her dark purple tights and shorts.

Gregory notices her staring at her foot, which is propped up on a pillow, peeking out from under the thick comforter, with some sort of makeshift splint made from cloth wrapped around the ankle.

"We had to improvise." He informs her, that lopsided grin Cassie'd always see in her dreams and on her homemade missing posters stretched on his face. "Ness cant exactly take the chance of getting involved with authority."

Cassie furrows her brows, her mind still kind of foggy from her -what she guesses- long sleep. "Ness?"

Gregory perks up. "Oh. It's a nickname we use for Vanessa a lot. Y'know, that blonde girl that was with us in the pizzeria?"

Cassie nods in recognition, remembering her blonde ponytail with rainbow streaks. "Yeah, um... how exactly did--"

She gets cut off when the door clicks open, and speak of the devil. "Oh, you're awake." Vanessa peeks her head in the room, a smile on her face when she sees Cassie sitting up and awake. "We were just making dinner, and I wanted to see if you were up."

"Um..." Cassie trails off. "Dinner?" She settles on.

Gregory senses her uncertainty, and settles a hand on her shoulder. "Vanessa's makin' chicken alfredo. And since you're awake, now you can finally eat."

Her stomach rumbles as if on queue, and her cheeks redden. Gregory has no problem laughing at her. "How long has it been?"

Cassie tries to think. "A few hours before you came and got me, since I ran to the Pizzaplex as soon as I got the message. So... that plus however long I slept for."

"Eighteen hours." Vanessa supplies helpfully.

Cassies eyebrows shoot up to her hairline. "Eighteen hours?!" She exclaims.

Gregory laughs, and Vanessa just looks at her with a crooked smile that reminds her of Gregory's. "Yup. You were exhausted physically and emotionally, and were injured, kiddo. The fact that you slept for so long checks out."

Gregory giggles. "Remember when we first got back, you slept for twenty-one."

Vanessa rolls her eyes. "I think I had a perfectly good reason to sleep the whole day away. Unlike you." She points two fingers from her eyes to Gregory. "Its not my fault you have the same amount of energy as a hyperactive dog."

"You mentioned a dog! So is the dog talk working?" Gregory asks, smugly. "Come on, Ness. Just concede. Its only a matter of time before you cave."

Cassie just watches, unsure of what to do when Gregory and Vanessa talk. Theres a grin on Gregory's face, not one she's used to. Not like the mischievous, pointed ones when Gregory was brewing something up, or the slight, hopeful ones, when Cassie would talk about when they got older, and she and Gregory could work towards getting a car and finally being able to give Gregory a life where he doesnt have to worry, and they can just live. Just a few more years, they'd always say.

This one is easy. Its gentle, with no kind of edge to be detected, and it looks so right on his face. It doesn't look forced, it doesnt look rare. Cassie can tell just by looking that Gregory has smiled like this often, and hes been allowed to be used to it. To smile without the quirk of worry.

It warms Cassies heart, to see that theres been change. But it also hurts.

Because he'd been away for so long, and although Cassie is so, so glad to have him back, she can't help but wonder why he never reached out to her. If he'd been able to smile so easily like this, while she couldn't muster one at times, too empty from his absence.

"I can barely take care of you and Freddy, kid." Vanessa points out, and Cassie is thrown back into reality. "And now I got another destroyed animatronic to fix and another kid. Not even mentioning a dog."

Cassie gasps, big and sudden at Vanessa's words. "Roxy!" She exclaims, and she winces when her voice rasps, and her dry throat burns from dehydration. "Roxy! Where is she? Is--Is she okay?!"

When Cassie starts to shift, arms moving to roll the comforter off of herself and somehow leave the bed, Gregory and Vanessa both rush to gently push her back down.

"Its okay, Cassie." Gregory says in that soft voice of his where it feels like it's only reserved for Cassie. "Shes in parts and service. While you were asleep, we wanted to fix her up a little, so we took turns watching you and fixing Roxy up."

Cassie feels the tension melt off of her body when she hears that Roxy is here, and has been fixed a little, but she still furrows her brows in confusion at 'parts and service', because are they not in a house right now?

Cassie can see Vanessa roll her eyes and go to explain. "He means that shes in one of the spare rooms we use to work on animatronics." Vanessa tells her. "We used it to build Freddy a body, and once Freddy started calling it parts and service, Gregory jumped on it, and it just stuck."

Cassie nods slowly, taking in the influx of information that she cant fully sort through right now. "So thats why Freddy didnt have a head."

"Do you want to see her?" Gregory asks. "Roxy, I mean. I'm suprised she hasnt barged in here already. I had to fight her to get her to trust me and Ness enough to work on her and watch you."

Cassie smiles, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. Because Roxy is so worried about her, and Cassie is happy that she cares, but shes upset that Roxy and Gregory are so hostile towards eachother. "Yeah. Um. I would like to see her."

Gregory nods, and smiles. "Kay. She wont look the exact same, since I tried my best to restore her some, but at least she isnt about to fall apart."

Vanessa leaves the room with a curse, and Cassie ignores the slight burning smell coming from outside the door. "...Okay. Just... when you get her, can we have some alone time?"

Gregory nods, halfway out the door. "Okay. Sure. I'll be right back, okay?"

"Okay." She says, and then Gregory is gone.

Cassie breathes deep, playing with the frayed edges of the comforter when theres nothing else to do. She can hear the clattering of kitchen utensils from further in the house, and hushed voices.

The silence stretches further in her room, and when Gregory doesnt return, not right away, Cassie can feel her chest tighten, and something grip her lungs.

She breathes harshly through her nose, and notices how her hands begin to shake slightly.

Something grabs at her chest, something akin to panic, feeling like a giant hand and squeezing.

Gregory. Is all she can think about. He said he'd be right back. Where is he? He shouldn't have been gone this long, right?

Have I lost him again?

She squeezes her eyes shut, trying really hard to keep still, to keep calm, but her brain is jumbled, like its tied itself in knots, and all she can think about is how Gregory isn't here with her.

She has half the mind to get up, to tear through the house to search for him, to make sure she hasnt lost him again, that she wont have to look for him again. But one look at her ankle thats wrapped in cloth and she knows it isnt possible.

She makes a pitiful noise, breaths huffing out of her mouth now, short and heavy, and Gregory hasnt come back yet, and she cant do a thing about it.

It's only when Gregory pops his head back through the door, nudging it open with a creak that Cassie is ripped away from her thoughts and actually realizes how much shes panicking.

Gregory steps inside, a smile on his face, mouth open ready to speak, but it drops right off as soon as he sees Cassie.

Cassie cant find it in her to speak when Gregory rushes over to her, asking if shes okay. Her brain feels like its fogged over, or like its signal is blocked, and she cant think enough to respond to his questions.

All she can do is reach out to him when relief overwhelms her, enough for tears to slip past her lashes, and Gregory pauses in his rapid fire questions, seeming to understand something.

"I'm here, Cassie." He tells her, getting on the bed with her. He let's her wrap her arms around him and squeeze him as much as she needs when she moves to. "I'm not leaving again, okay? I'll be here with you. Nothings going to take me away from you. You arent going to lose me."

Cassie relishes in the reassurance. It reaches past all of the fog into some part of her brain, and it's like hosing down a wildfire. Her breathing slows down as she soaks up the feeling of Gregory right here, with her, and not going anywhere.

The panic that gripped her heart loosens some, and shes finally able to breathe, breathing deep breaths when Gregory does too.

"Sorry." She says after a moment, wiping at her eyes. "I dont... I dont know why that happened. I, um..."

"Separation anxiety." Gregory says, and Cassie startles. When shes finally able to unfuse herself with Gregory enough to look at his face, he has a knowing, serious expression on his face. "I had my rodeo with it, too... me and Freddy didnt have too good of a time with it."

Cassie furrows her brows, and it feels like she has ten thousand more questions added to the pile to ask, but Gregory stops her before she can speak.

"I'll tell you another time, okay?" He says, gesturing to the door where Roxy stands, waiting patiently for someone who was, when she last checked, willing to rip apart the guy Cassie just hugged to death. "Just... I promise I'll help you with it, okay? I dont think I'll be too different from you, after trying to reach you all night, and also..."

His eyes glaze over some, looking like a thousand different memories are playing over them, but he shakes it off, offering one more smile. "Itll be fine, okay? I'm gonna go make you a plate, cuz I think dinners ready, and you can talk to Roxy. Sound good?"

Cassie doesnt know what's wrong with her, because she almost tears up again at Gregory's words, because hes being so kind, and so understanding. She shouldn't be surpised, she guesses, Gregory had always found a way to catch her off guard with kindness when she'd been so used to being brushed off or disliked.

She nods, smiling back ag him, and he offers a thumbs up, moving past Roxy and shutting the door behind him.

It's only now that Cassies able to fully pay attention to Roxy, and she gasps, almost not recognizing her.

Before, she hadn't had anything resembling a face. Just her endoskeleton skull exposed due to broken casing. But now, she somehow has her face casing back. The colors are a little off, and it looks dusty and unused, but she looks like herself. Her last remaining strands of hair are fuller now, some new strands added. They've been shifted, too, styled to look adjacent to her old style, just shorter.

Her body isnt much different, one of her arms has its forearms back, a bright, clean purple compared to her filthy leg warmers, and she has her other foot back, just a larger size and different color.

But the most prominent change are definitely the eyeballs, glowing blue LED's, stuck securely in their sockets.

Cassie laughs disbelievingly, joyously, putting her hands up to her mouth with a wide smile.

"Roxy!" She exclaims. "You have eyes again!"

It's only now, when Roxy laughs along with her, that Cassie realizes her voice box has been replaced, too. Cassie laughs even more when Roxys voice filters through, sounding happy, instead of angry, no warbling or static to be found.

Roxy heads to her bedside, and shes walking much more surely, now. Not like her long, wide strides, always careful to not collide with something. She sways from side to side, ever confident in her looks.

"How do I look?" Roxy asks, fluttering her eyelashes now that she has some again and fluffing her new hairdo up with her hand. "The brat gave me a makeover."

Cassie giggles. "You look beautiful, Roxy."

"I know." Roxy says, but then turns her attention towards Cassie. "How are you doing, Speed racer?" Roxy asks, voice soft. "That elevator couldnt have felt good."

Cassie shakes her head, gesturing to her splinted arm and ankle. "Nope, but... Gregory and Vanessa fixed me up pretty good. I'm not hurting that much."

"I'm glad." Roxy smiles, because she can now.

It's just Cassie and Roxy, now. And like with Gregory, everything she'd been feeling, all the thoughts she'd been having all bubble up to the surface, and now that everyones here, and safe, she just wants to get it all out.

So Cassie furrows her brows, and goes to tell Roxy I'm sorry, I didnt want to, I shut you down and you still saved me, why? But before she can, the door clicks back open, and Gregory steps inside her room, balancing two plates on his hands.

"Dinners ready." He tells her, smiling, and Cassie doesn't know why shes suprised when after Gregory hands her her own plate, he crawls up on the bed with her.

So she doesnt voice it. She just smiles, a big, wide one, but still small and soft.

Vanessa walks inside the room with her own plate, and Freddy, looking everything like the home-built animatronic he is, follows behind her, extra pillows and blankets in his arms.

"I was thinking we have a movie night." Vanessa says, sitting in the same chair Gregory was when she first woke up. "Better than you having to sit in here bored, right, kid?"

Cassie nods, and her mouth waters when she catches a whiff of the chicken alfredo sitting in her lap.

Gregory snatches the remote from Vanessa, holding it away from her arms when she tries to take it back. The TV in front of them that she just now notices is in the room comes to life, Disney+ appearing on screen.

Gregory hands the remote to Cassie when Vanessa finally gives up, and shes able to pick the movie, putting on a happy, animated movie, where all the characters have their happy endings and nothing bad really ever happens.

The chicken alfredo was delicious, and they sat in her makeshift room, pillows and blankets built up like jenga around her to make her as comfortable as possible for hours, laughing together.

Cassies cheeks hurt by the end, and although shes so thrilled after hanging out with Gregory again, just having fun together like they used to, she cant help but notice that Roxy was really quiet the whole time. Really quiet.

Cassie doesnt think shes very good at reading animatronics yet, not like Vanessa and Gregory seem to be able to with Freddy, but Cassie cant help but feel like Roxy wasnt really able to relax this whole time, and shes surrounded with people she feels unsafe with.

By the end of it all, when the suns long set and Cassie feels tiredness drag her eyelids down, she cant rest, even when Vanessa's retired to her room, Gregory's left, and Roxy and Freddy went to parts and service.

She feels the same panic as earlier grip her heart. It's not like a panic attack; she's had a few of those, it's more like any chance of relaxation has left her body, and all that's left is feeling tense, on edge, and like something bad is going to happen. Like Gregory isnt going to be there when she wakes up.

But she needn't have worried, because it isnt too long until Gregory re-enters her room, wearing pajamas and Roxy and Freddy plushies clutched in one hand, with a night light in the other.

"This helped me and Freddy when it'd get bad, too." Gregory explains, tucking the Roxy plushie into her own arm as he lays down with her, clicking the night light shaped like Sundrop on. "That way, you can see me if you get scared that I'm gone."

Cassie can't put into words how grateful she is, or how glad she is that Gregory's back, and that she finally has him again, so she just doesn't, even though she wants to. Instead, she just clicks the lamp off, and when she lays down, wraps her arms around his middle.

Once Gregory is pressed up against her, with her forehead against his collarbone, and she can feel his slow, calm breaths, she feels relaxed. She finally feels herself slip into dreamland, and has no nightmares.

2nd ao3 link

[all-hail-trash-prince]

Heterothermic

Chapter 7: Terrapene Ornata Ornata (Ornate Box Turtle)

Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

Family fluff, mutant biology speculation

Read on Ao3

-----

"Hey, does anyone know how long it's been since Donnie ate?"

Mikey's brothers paused and frowned in deep concentration at the question, which told him all he needed to know. He browsed through the leftovers in the fridge until he found a few slices of plain cheese pizza, heated them up, and made his way over to Donnie's lab. Mikey paused at the doorway though, as he heard muttering coming from inside.

"...wonder if it's possible? I bet Draxum would know…"

On the one hand, it was a bit rude to listen in on other people. On the other, it was Doctor Feelings' job to make sure his brothers were living their best lives. Mikey hid a little smile as he knocked on the lab door. Oh, Donnie was going to love the surprise Mikey had in mind for him!

—

Donnie stared blankly. "What is this."

Draxum sighed deeply. "If I knew, I would tell you."

The day after Mikey had overheard his brother muttering to himself in his lab, he had invited Draxum over to the lair. Even though relations between the turtles and the sheep-man had improved, they were still not exactly each other's favorite people. That was okay, though! This could be a bonding experience!

Mikey grinned while rocking on his heels. "I just figured my two favorite scientists could get together and talk about science stuff!"

"Hmm…" Donnie glanced over Draxum with a critical eye. He was still in his uniform, having come straight over from his job at the school, and didn't look very much like a scientist at the moment. "I… suppose I did have a few questions for you," admitted Donnie.

Draxum sighed again. "Alright, let's get this over with."

As the two talked, though, Mikey could see them slowly growing more and more excited as they talked with someone who was on a similar level of intelligence. Mikey couldn’t help but grin - even if most of the science jargon was going over his head, he was seeing this as an absolute win.

At least, until he himself was dragged into it.

“I wanted to create ultimate, unbeatable warriors,” explained Draxum, leaning back on a counter in Donnie’s lab. “I hypothesized that combining turtles, animals well known for their defense, and humans, the ultimate pursuit predators, would produce creatures that could never be struck down.”

Donnie nodded intently, taking - was he taking notes? Hopefully that wasn't something Mikey would need to be worried about.

“Once I perfected the mutagen, it would take the best of each species’ qualities, so that they would cover each others’ weaknesses. For example, humans are warm-blooded and do not slow down in the cold, while turtles are far better in water than humans.”

Donnie nodded again, but glanced over at Mikey. “Box turtles aren’t aquatic, though,” he pointed out questioningly.

“True,” said Draxum with a slight smirk, “but I chose four different types of turtles in order to experiment with their unique qualities. Aquatic wasn’t necessarily on the top of my list.” His hand suddenly shot out towards Mikey’s face, and on instinct, he ducked his head into his shell.

“See?” came Draxum’s slightly muffled voice, and Mikey felt a light pat on top of his shell. “I chose this species because of the hinged plastron. It can fold in slightly to completely cover the turtle’s head.”

“Fascinating,” came Donnie’s awed reply. Mikey felt his brother’s hand patting around his shell more insistently, and swatted it away as he pulled his head back out.

Draxum continued, “Another reason for choosing this species is that they can be almost completely frozen, but still fine when thawed.”

Mikey blinked. “Wait, WHAT!?” he squawked, at the same time as Donnie said, “We are not testing that one!”

Mikey looked at his brother in surprise. Not that he thought Donnie would play games with his safety, but he thought the scientist would at least ask to try it out.

On seeing his brother’s look, Donnie explained, “It already happened once when you were young. You pretty much completely shut down, so I guess it's not too surprising that you don't remember. But none of us knew what was happening, and you almost gave poor Dad a heart attack.”

“Oh,” said Mikey quietly, mood thoroughly dampened.

Draxum, never one to read the room, simply barreled onwards. “Speaking of resilience to temperature changes, I assume you sweat?”

“We do,” confirmed Donnie.

Mikey, meanwhile, blinked owlishly at the question. “Obviously? Why wouldn't we?”

“Because normal turtles don't sweat,” Donnie explained. At Mikey’s absolutely gobsmacked look, he continued, “Since they're cold-blooded, there's far less risk of overheating than with, say, a human.”

“Yes, well,” Draxum cut in smoothly, “since I'd planned for you to be moving about quite a lot, I'd hoped that that particular trait would come through, in order to help keep you cool. It's good that your skin ended up more human in that regard.”

Mikey held his arm up and carefully inspected it, as though staring hard enough would cause it to suddenly reveal its secrets.

(It didn't, of course, but that still didn't stop him.)

As the topic moved back away from Mikey himself, he settled back into the comfortable (if unbearably boring) position of a simple observer to their conversation. Donnie and Draxum ended up talking for hours, long enough for dinnertime to roll around, and Mikey finally excused himself to cook. As much as he would've loved to have Draxum stay and eat with them, the tension between him and Leo was still sky-high, (err… maybe that wasn't the best way to describe it, given their history) so Mikey simply packed up a Tupperware and sent Draxum home with a serving of food and a promise to return the container after washing it. This proved to be the right decision when, at dinner, Donnie rambled on about all the interesting information he and Draxum had discussed, and Leo seemed far more receptive to it than if the goat-man himself had been there. Who knows, maybe if Mikey and Donnie could soften Leo’s opinion of him enough, he'd finally forgive him.

Though, Leo really did deserve a proper apology for, y'know, being thrown off a roof.

Even as Donnie shot his hand out towards Mikey’s face in order to show off his hinged plastron, (which they'd all noticed at some point, but never gave much thought to) Mikey couldn't quite regret the hours-long science talk he'd been roped into that day. If mind-numbingly dull discussions of inane facts was what it took to bring his family together, then he'd gladly do it a million times over.

-----

1: The Question | 2: Spiny Softshell | 3: Red-Eared Slider | 4: Brumation (Extra) | 5: Shedding (Extra) | 6: Alligator Snapper | 7: Ornate Box

[gonzaburrow]

to the tide

Tashiro tries to remember, whose idea was it to come here? He doesn’t think it was his; he doesn’t often leave work past midnight with an itch to go to the beach. But he doesn’t not want to be here. Truth be told, the drive over is a blur. 

And so, he’s on the beach with Hanzawa Masato. He abandons his shoes before they leave the car and urges Hanzawa to do the same. The other man complies, and before long they’re meeting the tide roll in. Tashiro squeezes the wet sand in between his toes; it feels weird good and soothing. 

He’s wading into the water before he’s processing his actions. Ankles, to knees, Tashiro stops when the water meets his thighs. He’s extending a hand towards Hanzawa, who joins him without hesitation. They’re holding hands, their hair is blowing in the salty breeze, and Tashiro is struck by a suffocating sense of deja vu. 

Hanzawa’s hair is blown out of his face, and there it is. His every feature is illuminated by the moonlight, and Tashiro’s heart jumps in his chest. He pulls the other man forward and steps back, pulling the pair deeper into the water. 

They’re waist deep, and he’s regretting not removing even his t-shirt. He’s pretty sure they didn’t bring any towels or spare clothes; the air is crisp and threatens to turn into a biting chill. 

They’re in too deep now. Turning back now would be silly. 

Tashiro takes another step, and his foot is met with a strange texture. It summons a shriek out of him, and it’s at that moment he realizes neither of them have spoken since they stepped foot on the beach. 

Hanzawa tries and fails to hold back his laughter. His hands are braced on Tashiro's shoulders. Warmth radiates from his palms through Tashiro's t-shirt. He shivers. 

"You know, you're the only person who consistently steals laughter out of me." 

Tashiro's head whips up, their faces are just a breath apart. 

"Of course, that's cause I'm freakin amazing. " 

The other man's laughter dies down, but he's got his real smile on. "Yeah, you are." 

At this distance, their slight difference in height is present. Hands are still on shoulders, Tashiro is hyper aware of the light pressure.

"Wait no, I was kidding. You weren't supposed to agree with me." 

"You don't give yourself enough credit." 

"If that's how it is, then you don't give yourself enough time to relax." 

"What's this then? I'm feeling pretty restful here, with you." 

"You know that's not what I mean." But then Hanzawa's words sink in. Tonight Tashiro's brain is in a constant scramble, just bees trapped in a jar. "Why’d you say it like that?" It comes out in a mumble, he kicks the sand under the water; whatever he stepped on earlier gets caught on his toes. He tries to ignore it. 

"How would you have me say it?" 

Tashiro processes the response and reaches to free his foot from the seaweed. He braces an arm on Hanzawa’s chest before he realizes his actions. He loses his balance, but Hanzawa’s hands move to his waist and keep him steady. 

They're essentially hugging. Tashiro feels the hard line of muscle under his hand. Their position feels like something out of a shoujo manga. 

"I'm waiting for that answer." He says it like the punchline of a joke. 

Tashiro doesn't have an answer. 

"Can I get back to you on that?"  On instinct, one of his fingers pet the fabric underneath. It's soft and barely textured. It feels nice. A warm hand covers his. The absence on his waist feels wrong. 

"Yeah, or don't. It's not that serious after all, is it?" Hanzawa plucks Tashiro's hand from his chest and steps back. His smile returns to its shallow standard. "Sorry I dragged you here. But thank you for coming." 

They're still speaking in whispers. 

"I don't mind. Can I ask why we're here?" 

"You can ask," Hanzawa says, "but I'm not sure I'll answer." He turns away and walks back to shore. 

Tashiro is stunned. 

Was this one of those serious moments he couldn't read? What would happen if he asked Hanzawa? He wasn't sure if he should be scared of the potential answer or lack of. 

They're watching each other, one on the beach and the other waist deep with waves tapping his back. 

Tashiro wishes the ocean would swallow him whole.

A particularly large wave crashes over him, bowls Tashiro forward. He swallows a most foul mouthful of saltwater. He’s spitting it out, and Hanzawa is still by the shore. He’s got one foot hesitating in the water. But he doesn’t make any further moves. 

Something about their positions, Hanzawa’s hesitance to do something for once in his life, and the ocean water lingering on his tongue makes an animosity bubble in Tashiro’s gut. He’s not an angry guy, he always lets things just roll off his back. He’s a lazy stream.

This moment though, breaks something inside him. 

He’s shouting, screaming; he didn’t know his voice could sound so feral. Tashiro starts moving towards the shore, attempting to maintain composure although the tide is making it difficult. Let this be the one moment he’s actually taken seriously. 

He stops close enough that Hanzawa can hear him, but enough that they’re a generous arm’s length apart. Tashiro’s gathering his thoughts, and trying not to admire Hanzawa’s form when his clothes are sticking to his body; white button up now translucent. 

The other man opens his mouth to speak, but Tashiro brings a hand up to stop him. 

It was now or never. 

“You can’t just run away like that.” Tashiro says. 

“Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?” 

Waves crash in the distance. 

“You always have an answer until it comes to yourself. You gotta stop putting yourself in punishing situations, man. I’m not letting you deflect this time.” 

“It’s not that easy.” Tashiro almost misses his words; the ocean threatens to bury his voice under its sound.

A chuckle sneaks out from Tashiro’s throat. He knows it’s not a funny situation, but the absurdity of how stubborn Hanzawa could be, it hit him in a strange way. 

“Sorry, I know there’s nothing funny. But I don’t think it needs to be that deep?” He heaves a deep sigh. His mouth is still bitter from the water. “Why don’t you try being more direct? Everything you say is so enigmatic; I never know what’s for real and what’s a joke.” 

Hanzawa’s eyebrows stitch together. It’s such a foreign look; he doesn’t look like himself. Their eyes are meeting, and Tashiro can’t tell if water sprayed on the other man’s face or if he shed a few tears. 

“The problem with that, my dear Tashiro, is I’m not entirely sure myself.” 

“Well,” Tashiro invades Hanzawa’s space and envelopes him, pulling his head into the space beneath his chin. “That’s a good place to start. Thank you.” 

[raine-world]

Autocorrect stop changing "Quirrel" to "Squirrel" challenge: Impossible.

[rainofthetwilight]

alright so ive decided the first three chapters of as the years pass by are getting rewritten!!

updates with each will be slow, but ill try to somehow release them all at once to not confuse things since there are some things i need to add, plus i realized how i wasnt actually focusing on jenna and ethan properly so yeah a rewrite here we come lmao