#and I realised I was fighting a losing battle

[carlatsukinamistolemyhamsandwich]

Thought my days of fangirling over morally questionable vampires with sad backstories were over.

Alas I have started playing BG3 and well, if you know you know...

[lesbianclaryfray]

very admirable tbh how much of an “i can fix him” gay curt ISN’T. he saw he couldn’t get through to the fucked up man within 5 minutes and was like ok *pulls trigger*

[musclesandhammering]

Loki deserves to have an active role in the multiversal war. He deserves to fight alongside the Avengers. He deserves to save the day, he deserves to use his new time powers against a big bad, he-

[violetnaps]

randoms hcs for suzunamis/twins + notes for canonverse au

general hcs

the twins can use each other's zanpakuto (their zanpakuto spirit is the same and the only forms it takes are a ball of light and each other so it feels like an obvious option). they just rarely do bc kotomaru is too heavy for fujimaru to use properly and ryujomaru is too small for matsuri

matsuri is better at sensing than fujimaru. this ones canon actually, but unfortunately only used in chapter 1 (she "hears" the shinigami before fujimaru or mad eater do) and a random kyoraku gag

matsuri's insistence on following the rules and being proper at all times is due to her overawareness of their position as rukon kids adopted by a pair of nobles rather than her natural personality. in fact, in chapter 1 she seemed quieter and less assertive. i imagine without suzunami around she would revert to that... fujimaru is more carefree bc he takes things at face value, and trusts seigen and konoka when they say not to worry about that stuff.

fujimaru is the better cook, just lazy. when its just the two of them matsuri is banned from cooking except for breakfast (bc fujimaru always sleeps in) and that too only following a pre-approved recipe.

unohana knew about konoka's healing powers. its how they got to know each other in the first place.

following my (delusional) suzunami as fifth great noble clan theory: yoruichi is an old friend to seigen and konoka. that's also where kaien's debt to seigen comes from, maybe? tho interestingly the only one other than kyoraku and unohana to visit their family home is... urahara. hm.

matsuri does not have a crush on kaien. fujimaru probably does. (there is nothing straight about this girl gushing over unohana every chance she gets... fujimaru just likes boobs, and only sometimes.)

rangiku and the rest of the kids from past arc are still kids to them, despite everything. especially obvious with rangiku bc fujimaru comments on her growth without being like... attracted. (i do not want to hyperanalyse bath scenes but he did have a very different reaction to walking in on rangiku, rukia and orihime in the hot springs than he did while talking to yoruichi...) big fan of him still acting like a big brother to her despite not at all deserving the title (likewise for matsuri)

seigen is aroace (also canon)

konoka is probably also aroace, tho as a woman theres a political aspect to her refusal to marry and can be read both ways. her relationship with unohana fits in both ways too. (her only friend, according to fujimaru "the only one who seemed to really know her", the only one who mourns her for her and not for seigen or her sacrifice - both extremely selfish healers in their own ways)

the scene where rangiku dupes the player into doing her paperwork is only canon for matsuri. there is no way that would work on fujimaru. Unless... its the big brotherism... anyway its also basically the matsuri & rangiku dynamic in my canon au where matsuri is 3rd seat of 10th after isshin's disappearance/toshiro's captaincy. captain and his older lieutenant and her even older third seat, who all hired each other in backwards order. u see the vision.

urahara and konoka were actually friends, after the rescue. he also mourns her for her, and tries to talk her out of a sacrifice that could save the entire seireitei. that's not for seigen's or the kids' sake, unlike yamamoto and yoruichi rescuing the twins to keep seigen from going berserk (also a hc but canon in my heart)

kaien leaves fifth after losing the twins - as in, specifically bc of losing the twins. his mentorship of rukia is just as much good for himself as it is for her.

for canonverse au specifically

theyre still in the academy during the arturo battle and naturally no one tells them anything (except seigen's canon "take care of konoka if anything happens to me" scene which they take as a joke), but they end up at the scene anyway bc konoka is missing/not at home.

arrive just in time to see konoka die while being unable to do anything about it :) can't decide if seigen disappears with arturo or actually dies here, bc there's no way im keeping the game finale's ridiculousness.

they get mad at yamamoto on the spot. get shut down similarly to how it goes in the captains meeting in canon. matsuri is the one doing the yelling. (it's always matsuri doing the yelling.)

this is where the twins' priorities split: matsuri wants revenge (like seigen, but aimed at arturo who's disappeared but not dead), fujimaru wants to be able to protect her, whatever form that takes. knows she'd unconsciously grown reliant on the idea that no matter what happened konoka could fix her (she's the one injured as a kid here) and without konoka around, he steps up to fill that role.

so timeline of captaincy is seigen -> shinji -> aizen. arturo battle is some years pre-tbtp arc. kaien is with fifth when the twins join and transfers out to 13th a good while after fujimaru leaves for 4th, half out of concern for matsuri, half for his own reservations. their dynamic is mostly as canon. shinji was seigen's lieutenant and when he becomes captain he skips over kaien (third seat) for aizen (fourth seat) as lieutenant. part of why ukitake manages to snatch kaien lol

the ren/ruki rukon meetings may or may not happen here, but gin/ran def happens and hitsu/hina def doesn't. the twins sponsor gin/ran into the academy. when isshin disappears, rangiku asks matsuri to help with 10th's affairs while she and toshiro keep trying to find him. she agrees and ends up making an odd transfer from 3rd seat of 5th to 3rd seat of 10th. does all the paperwork. thanks, rangiku. mostly i love the way this adds a third layer to the young captain -> older lieutenant who recruited him as a shinigami -> even older third seat who recruited her. in battle shes at least as strong as toshiro tho. cant be matsuri if shes not op.

oh yeah!! keeping with the player twins learns bankai but other twin doesnt, sometime during tbtp matsuri helps urahara test the 3 day bankai method. succeeds bc of course she does. given the ura/yoru relationship in canon at the time tho i dont think yoruichi would be involved unfortunately.

oh they still have the hair accessories. unohana gives them to the twins. konoka had them prepared in advance for the twins' graduation. unohana, yoruichi and urahara all knew the twins before they graduated, and shinji at least knew of them as the captains kids.

during soul society arc fujimaru despite being of fourth which other than the captain and lieutenant moves in groups, is allowed a good deal of freedom of movement. its why hes no higher than fifth seat. encounters the defeated ikkaku and yumichika while trying to track down ganju. matsuri meanwhile does manage to find ganju - at the tower confrontation with byakuya. still gets interrupted by ichigo, but manages to prevent ganju from being injured (by knocking him out herself)

#complex relationship with rukia. they both blame ukitake for kaien's death. they also blame kaien for kaien's death, but anyway. rukia is convinced they also blame her for it, bc ofc she is, she thinks everyone does. and bc things are so awkward between them and her captain they dont exactly get the chance to talk about it. genuinely surprised when matsuri speaks in her defence against byakuya. post-ss arc, matsuri joins the human world team, and theres a bit of a mess with the gentei kanjo there, but also rukia and her have an actual talk.

oh, both twins adore orihime. for sure. they're getting konoka flashbacks and intense protective instincts. explaining to her the value of a healer. fujimaru especially would have a lot to say about urahara's declaration in that arc. (he's still pretty great with kido, just rusty.)

might be a bit too indulgent here, but theres a cg of matsuri fighting grimmjow thats like never used in game so like... thats my justification. yeah. steals ichigos fight with grimmjow. like literally shows up and is like bro move. mostly bc rukia needs a healer and he'll be able to find orihime faster. "did you storm the soul society for your pride, or for her?" (remember when ukitake said kaien fighting metastacia was a matter of his pride and not, yknow avenging his murdered wife...)

oh speaking of. re: twins getting mad at ukitake. matsuri is all grief and rage and action, fujimaru is quieter but harsh in his own way. pointing out the disrespect to miyako in letting kaien fight the thing that killed her and her whole squad overemotional and unprepared. as if they didnt know just how capable she was and what it meant that something could kill her and all her men. i keep coming back to this point bc this is like the whole point.

anyway still undecided on who goes where but i think for winter war the twins get split up. one on pillar defence or healer duty in fake karakura, one accompanying byakuya to hueco mundo. matsuri in fake karakura would replace yumichika (sorry to the iconic ikkayumi scene but this is the twins' show now and also ive already stolen grimmichi so) and be the one to defeat ayon. could also maybe throw arturo and some soi fon scenes in there. in hueco mundo she would find and kill arturo with unohana as witness/making sure she doesn't die. fujimaru in fake karakura would be stuck between his duty as healer and wanting to intervene in the ayon fight, with yamamoto stepping in and telling him to remember his duties. like matsuri, runs to soi fon as soon as he's done with the others. thats their bestie okay. in hueco mundo he'd be having a terrible time bc byakuya wont sit down for him to heal him and he has to invent new ways to heal on the go bc this bitch just keeps running on a torn leg. also has a talk with rukia abt fake kaien. everything has potential </3

oh, so shinji. hmm. havent got much there, except momo worrying he'll replace her with matsuri when hes reinstated as captain of fifth. (momo and matsuri are a lil awkward for that reason already - everyone expected matsuri to be lieutenant, esp since she'd been around since before gin, but momo popped in and stole it out of nowhere. she's always felt guilty about it, and matsuri's reassured her otherwise, but aizen has also implied to her that matsuri only doesnt mind bc shes never accepted aizen as her captain in the first place. its awkward.)

anyway timeskip to the end now. unohana dies, isane replaces her, and picks fujimaru as her lieutenant. hes already gotten less floozy since working under unohana... hes almost reliable now! mostly she just needs someone to keep members of 11th in line since she sure cant lol. meanwhile rukia becomes captain of 13th and offers matsuri lieutenancy there, which is a weird feeling for sure bc kaien but the reasoning is also that. in the aftermath theyd been the only people she'd seen get actually angry at ukitake, and if she ever makes a mistake like that she wants someone nearby who will tell her off the same way. also matsuri going from one ice captain to another is funny, since kotomaru is fire-aligned (burn status effect compared to ryujomaru's shock)

[who-is-there]

I just started watching Dimension 20’s Fantasy high, halfway through sophomore year, and I do want a fic where people realise just how used to being part of a group the bad kids are. For example-

-I fully believe every single one of them is used to Riz climbing them so he can see better. It’s usually Gorgug, but it’s happened to all of them at some point. They might hold out their arm for him to jump onto a counter, or so he can pin a clue to his board. Before they all sit at a table, at least one of them makes sure their 4’4 friend can jump onto the table.

-Every single one of them has also caught Adaine after she had a vision. Sometimes she can just shake them off, but the big ones make her falter in what she’s doing, which can be dangerous. It happened once in a fight, and now the people standing closest to her are always ready.

-Fabian doesn’t really recognise he has a blind spot with his eye injury, because the others immediately clocked it. But this also means they walk in between him and the road, in case some idiot mounts the curb. They keep an eye on anything to his right, shifting drinks and pushing chairs if they can tell his depth perception is a little off.

-Fig usually stands in the middle of the group to intimidate people into not messing with them, so it’s sort of become habit to just crowd around her. After the battle, if no one’s seriously hurt or anything, everyone just wanders over to Fig. At this point, Fig is always the first one to yell out after a fight, just so they can regroup.

-Gorgug is the go-to for lap-sits, leaning, anything to do with being physically supported by another persons body. His hoodie is soft, and his headphones are loud enough that you can kind of hear it if you’re leaning on him. His parents weren’t great with nonchalant physical contact, in case he was already upset, so he takes great joy in his friends not being scared to hug him for fun.

-Kristin has left her staff at every single house she could with the bad kids. She leaves her bag in classrooms, the library, the cafeteria. Whenever the group leave somewhere, they do a full scan, because Kristin has probably left something and they grab it for her. No one has any clue who her bag actually belongs to, because all of the bad kids have been seen carrying it around school several times.

The school at large know who the bad kids are, and the town recognise them, but they still don’t know why all of them double check a room before leaving, or collectively carry a small stool around with them. One student with a fantasy iron deficiency faints in class and Kristin catches her before she hits the ground. Once, Fig isn’t in school for a day and all the bad kids have this restless energy about them. It is not uncommon to see them on the field during lunch, curled up in a pile on Gorgug. One guy tries to surprise Fabian from the right and gets body checked by Adaine before it even registers.

It’s sort of uncomfortable for everyone to see any of them without the others, because it means a) the rest of them committed a crime, b) the rest of them are committing a crime, or c) the rest of them are about to run in and start planning to commit a crime. And no one wants to lose their plausible deniability here.

[ellstronaut]

quick rant about the caitvi sesbian lex scene cause whatttt (amazing perfection art btw) but DO but do people not understand subtext? Expositional dialogue? Emotional vulnerability??? Like oh my word the Vi slander is annoying like generally speaking I’ve heard people literally say it’s out of character for Vi to not give a shit about jinx, miss the suicidal tendencies etc but like imagine being in Vi’s shoes. Here you are, expecting to be reprimanded by your then ex gf because once again here you are giving people you care about the benefit of doubt, because you love them that much, because you are a selfless individual that always put the needs of others above your own. You expect to be condemned for choosing wrong. (Rightfully so) But then the tables turn Caitlyn basically admits she planned the whole ordeal, knew Vi would free jinx so ultimately when we read between the lines it’s her saying she chooses Vi above anything else is willing to let go of whatever personal grudges she had in the past towards jinx/any unresolved feelings/hatred for her sister because she loves Vi that much. It’s such a heartfelt moment, Vi realising this hence the whole being-lost-in-the-moment thing god forbid Vi allows herself to be emotionally vulnerable for once to give into her NEEDS I love that scene so MUCH because it’s the first time caitvi get to be “selfish”, instead of focusing on fighting losing battles but yeah lets say vi is a heartless pos for fucking cait in a cell ig lmao

[bluetimeombre]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ And I wouldn't marry me, either part 2

You were Azriel's mate, but it took losing you three times for him to realise.

[thank you for the love on part one, I’m so happy Azriel is getting the love he deserves!!!! This is another long one, another 6k. But I’ve learnt a new love for writing about him and i have so many ideas. This is a continuation and final part, part one here. Enjoy]

warnings: references to sexual assault and references to suicide. nothing explicit but please don't read if this is sensitive to you.

The third time Azriel almost lost you, he was pretty sure he lost a part of himself.

They'd all gone into battle, knowing that Hybern had the numbers to match and the advantage. But they'd all gone to fight in spite of that.

It had took some time for you to get the boys to agree to let you fight- you'd trained and grew up with all three of them but this was fighting on another scale. Although, if they were going, there really wasn't much they could say to get you to stay.

You were clad in Illyrian leathers just like them, armed with weapons and power.

The first battle was over quicker than you'd anticipated. Hybern soldiers surrendered, Tarquin drowned them on land. You'd suffered little, only falling on bed exhausted by the end of the day. Sadly, you were sharing a tent with Cassian and Azriel. It was like you were young again, all sleeping in the same room. It was a habit you'd done when you were young- all looking out and protecting each other.

The only difference was that Cassian snored as he got older.

But the next battle was worse.

It was bigger than last. Hybern's forces had doubled, seemingly at of nowhere, cutting their forces apart.

It was chaos, everywhere. Every corner there was fighting and bleeding and dying. There was pain all around you. Pain you felt like it was your own.

You used all your power, as much as you could to kill and protect. From the corner of your eyes you could see Azriel fight. Your Azriel, weaving in and out of people. Your mate. He was alive. And that was all you cared about.

But you didn't realise how much you'd been pushing herself and draining your power. Every time you stopped, you swayed on your feet, stumbling.

One of Hyberns men came for you as you were crouched and you barley blocked with your sword, rolling onto your back and slashing his arm off.

Not before he landed a sword in your thigh.

It had been deep burning and you yelled, yanking it out. Even with the wound, you kept fighting and fighting your way through until you saw a blaze of red and a familiar cry.

Cassian.

He'd been run through.

It was easy to push past exhaustion and winnow to his side, killing the man who'd been near him and any others that had been close enough. You fall to your knees next to him. 'Cassian, you prick.'

'You kiss your mate with that mouth,' he gasped. He was the only one who knew about Az and the bond. The only one you'd allow to make jokes.

You look down to his wound and gaged. Mother above, his guts were hanging out. 'No, no, no, come on, big guy, you have to stand.'

He groaned. 'Yea, don't think I can do that, sweetheart,' his eyes, lulled back.

You slap him in the face. Perhaps you wouldn't have felt guilt if it weren't for the way his eyes widened. 'You know I hate being called that.'

He laughed as his stomach and all its contents heaved out. Ignoring the pain in you, you hold his stomach, keeping him together. 'I promised Nesta i'd look after her,' he said. 'Please look after her.'

'Do it yourself,' you groaned.

Finally, Azriel came to your side and picked Cassian up like it was nothing, flying him to the tents. If only you still had your wings, you could have done it, saved him quicker.

Then, you were thrown back into the battle. Covered in his blood and yours, you fought through them all, slashing and killing like it was nothing. Like you had no reason to bat an eyelash at anything happening.

Eventually, it ended, but you couldn't even concentrate on who won or how much you'd lost. Your head ached, your leg was tied up in a bloody bandage ripped from your clothes. But none of that mattered.

Cassian was in bed, healing slowly. But he would live, everyone could tell. Especially with the way he picked fights. He argued with Rhys about throwing himself into danger, him and Nesta appeared to be having words with their eyes. Even Mor and Feyre argued. You were the only one silent with Azriel in the back. Too exhausted to even open your mouth.

That night, you tied up your wounds and fell asleep without changing.

It only got worse.

Elain- Feyre's sister and the most precious- was stolen from Hybern. You had only agreed to go and save her with a few selected others because your mate was in that few selective others.

It hadn't escaped your notice how he looked at her, was watchful over her like he once was with you. You saw the tick in his jaw at the news she was gone. You knew that this was the reason you hadn't told him. Knowing that he deserved someone like her, better than you. Kind and hopeful. You weren't. So the only thing you could do was watch your mate find love in someone else.

And you'd do it grudgingly but happy for him.

Azriel had took of with her. You and your high lady fought, fought through ash arrows and everything.

'You should get out of her, y/n,' said Feyre.

You groaned as an arrow skimmed your shoulder. Another had already got your hip. 'If you try to order me out of here, i'll be really pissed off at you.'

'I don't care if it gets you out!' she snapped, arguing like a real sister would.

'Yea, well- I was never one to listen to Rhys either.'

And Azriel was gone. Everything was fine.

You and Feyre ran, ran even as Tamlin defended you, ran until-

An arrow hit you in the back, straight to one of your old wing scars.

You tumbled, rolling on the ground as it broke and imbedded in your back. You screamed, in spite of yourself.

'You have to fly,' someone was telling you. Or saying it in general, frankly you had no idea what was going on. 'You have to take her.'

You rolled onto your stomach, groaning and trying to get yourself up. There was blood running down your arm, how did that get there?

'Y'n.'

You groaned, 'Azriel. I can't fly.'

'I know, I know- i've got you.' He picked you up, arm under your legs and around your shoulders.

'Elian, Azriel-'

'Feyre has her,' he told you. He sounded angry. Or afraid. Somehow his emotions were very easy to mix up.

'Feyre isn't strong enough.'

'She'll have to be.'

'You should take them, Elian-'

'I don't give a fuck about Elian right now, y'n.'

Just like that, he took off with you in his arms and your blood raining down on the camp of Hybern. You could barley hear anything over the wind... but you could feel it.

Something had tugged painfully at the bond, throwing you into a scream. Something had happened to Azriel. You twisted in his arms, finding gashing claw marks in his back from one of the hounds that had chased them down. His face was bleached white in pain, his hold on you tight.

Glancing around, you could just see Feyre in a blur of people.

'Azriel-' you gasped. He was in pain, so much pain.

He didn't say anything, just squeezed you tighter and looking ahead, barking orders as Feyre flew for the first time in need, in desperation. You remembered what that was like, trusting your life in them. But Azriel's wings, they were bleeding out. You remembered the pain. You'd go through it every day to spare him a minute of it.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You and Azriel landed back in the camp in a blur of pain.

Even with him leaving a trail of blood, he managed to set you down like you were porcelain. You didn't cry out. You didn't yell for help. You threw his arm over your shoulder and supported him.

Nesta and Rhys rushed to Feyre.

You hated your brother for a long moment.

Elain wondered over, chained but whole.

Azriel moved from you, checking on Elian. You only managed to watch them as she kissed his cheek.

The pain came to you then. Your head, shoulder, back. You turned from the crowd of family. Elain moved to hug her sister, Rhys stayed at Feyre's side.

Thesan, someone you barley knew as more than a healer, came to you first but you pushed him away, pushed him to Azriel. 'His wings. Heal him, or i'll rip you to pieces.'

He didn't have to be told twice.

You stumbled your way to camp, to your little tent. You didn't share it with Cassian anymore as he was still healing and Azriel would be a while- needing healing of your own.

You collapsed on the bed, promising to look after yourself- just after your nap.

You were so fast asleep you didn’t even hear Azriel come in and sigh at the sight of you…

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Azriel was fighting when it happened. Specifically, when it snapped.

Mate. Mate. Mate.

No, he wasn't completely healed. But he had to fight. He wouldn't push himself, he knew that would be stupid. But he wouldn't watch as everyone fought. As you fought. He'd hardly seen you. He knew your back would be in pain. He knew you'd be in pain and you were still fighting, so far from him and out of reach.

He was thinking of you when it snapped.

Mate. Mate. Mate.

His soul sang it, his heart rose with it.

His shadows whispered it.

Mate. Mate. Mate.

y/n.

And the first thing he felt over the bond wasn't happiness or love. It was pain. It was death.

Mate. Mate. Mate.

In spite of the pain in his wings, how he'd been told not to fly, he did. He jumped into the skies, soaring over armies and dead to find you. He followed that pain, he followed the bond until he found you.

You, lying in your own blood. Again.

He fell next to you, his power eradicating anywhere near you. They dissovled, the ground cracked under him and his syphons shone in raw power.

'y/n?' he held your body, shaking you. Blood, so much. A sword had torn through your gut. 'Don't do this to me.'

Mate. Mate. Mate.

You cough, a thin stream of blood rolling from your lips. 'Azriel?'

'You're mine,' it was the first thing he could bring himself to say. 'You're my mate. Y/n. You have to hold on, ok? I'm gonna-gonna get you to safety.'

Something like a laugh escaped you, your body wracking with it. 'Of course, finally snaps for you as i'm dying.'

Snaps for you. Mate. Mate.

She knows, his shadows sung. She's known.

Azriel called out to Rhys in every way he could. 'We're gonna be fine. We're gonna be mates, y/n. You have to live, you understand?'

'Not really.' your eyes flutter shut.

'No!' he yelled, shaking you again.

'What's happened?' Rhysand landed next to him, blanking when he saw you in Azriel's arms, bleeding to death. How many times did this have to happen? How many times would you throw yourself into danger?

'She's my mate,' Azriel repeated. He tested it out loud, speaking it to the mother. How cruel was she? to give him this then try to take her away. Well, the mother wouldn't get that chance. Azriel would fight her if she tried to lay a hand on your life.

'What?' said Rhys.

'My mate,' he all but growled as Rhys got closer.

He put a hand on the back of Azriels neck, a hand on your head. 'We have to save her, Az.' he knew all about mating of course, knew that Azriel wanted nobody around her. But this was too save her. 'She's my sister too, the last sister I have. I care about her to.'

Azriel wanted to throw a thousand insults his way but refrained. If not because he was high lord, but also because you were dying.

They got you to safety, Azriel carrying you through to a tent.

'Y/n?!' Cassian rushed over, seeing you in his brothers arms, bleeding out and unresponsive.

Azriel pushed past him, setting you down on the bed. 'Get everyone, every healer now.' He had no idea who he was trying to demand, but he couldn’t watch this, couldn’t see you in.

You were still in your bed. Behind him, Feyre rushed to her mate, wrapping her arms around his torso as your brother stared at you in muted horror.

Azriel was leaning over you, sitting on the edge of the bed. ‘She’s my mate.'

'What?' Said Cassian, ‘She told you?'

Azriel felt the world stop around him. Not did you know about the bond and hadn’t told him, you’d told someone else? Cassian? His hand stilled in brushing your hair back, his shadows coaxing you instead.

Rhysand spoke what Azriel wanted to scream. 'You knew?'

'She-She told me,'

Azriel had always had an iron fist control on his emotions, as relied on to be spy master, he had to. But his patience was hanging on by a thread. You were still bleeding out and nobody had come and Cassian knew. Cassian knew about his mate before he did.

His shadows caressed you and, leaving you in the coolness of their touch, he leapt up, marching around the bed toward him.

Rhys was quicker, a hand on Azriels chest to stop him. 'Calm, brother.'

'Calm?' He seethed. 'When-how long have you known?' He shouted.

Cassian breathed out, pushing his hair back . His wings were tucked in behind him. 'She told me, before she went under the mountain.'

Even Rhysand let him go, blowing out air and throwing his arms over his head as Feyre gasped.

Azriel stumbled, a hand to his chest. His shadows were divided between him and caring for you. 'Fifty years,' he gasped.

You’d known for fifty years- possibly longer and hadn’t said a word.

He was panicking, his breath escaping him. His shadows settled uneasy around him. And the only person who was capable of calming him was laying unconscious.

Thesan burst in, knowing the injured already and working on you quickly.

Azriel almost launched at him, just for touching you. The reasonable part of him knew he needed to touch to heal, but the part that was your mate wanted him dead.

Cassian held him back, physically.

Azriel glowered at him. 'I wouldn’t touch me if i were you, brother,' he practically spat the words.

Rhysand left Feyre with a kiss on her cheek, coming to Azriel who was looking over you on the other side. 'Az, you need to rest-you’re hurt, too, remember?'

He shook his head, staring down at you. Mother above you were pale, so pale. 'I-I can’t feel anything Rhys, I can’t feel her through the bond.'

'My sister is a fighter, she’ll make it through.'

Azriel scoffed. His shadows were caressing up and down your arm. ‘Don’t pretend you’ve ever cared about her like a brother.'

Rhysand inhaled sharply. This was just fear, he told himself. 'Azriel.'

'No,' he said, his finger brushing back your hair. 'You only care about her when she’s dying and all y/n does is worship you- ever since you were children.'

Cassian tried to advance, 'Azriel, you wouldn’t be saying any of this if y/n wasn’t hurt.'

He laughed, bitterly. 'No, I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t have to. I’d bite my tongue. But your sister is dying and the last time you cared was the last time she almost died- it killed her to lose her wings and you were never there! And you teach your mate to fly right in front of her!'

Rhys growled. ‘Don’t bring my mate into this!'

‘You’ve brought mine into this!' He yelled. 'Everything she does is for you. Working for you. My mate followed you down to the mountain even when you didn’t care.'

'Of course I cared.'

'Then why did she feel so alone down there!'

‘How would you know, Azriel? You weren’t there!'

'Because I know her, bond or not. And you’ve been otherwise occupied.'

Cassian moved between the two, holding them apart. 'None of this matters to y/n does it.'

Azriel blankes them all, settling next to you. He vaguely heard Cassian send Rhysand and Feyre away. He felt him longer before he felt him leave.

And then all Azriel could feel, was you.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You felt pain first. The steady thumping of it through your body. It started in your leg, numbing it. Then, her back ached- a familiar pain you'd felt before. It sent panic through you before you realised they can't take your wings twice.

Then, it was in your gut, stinging. Just the thought of moving was hurting- aching.

There was a coldness around you, draped over like shadows. Shadows...

That's when you felt the tug that you'd neglected to feel for more than half a century.

The bond. There was finally something tied to the other end.

The shadows around you must've known you were awake as they grew frantic around you.

You opened your eyes, slowly, afraid to what you may see. Afraid to the eyes you'll have to meet.

Azriel was sat on a chair next to you, bare chested with only bandages around him. Immediately, you were at a disadvantage. He was looking at you, dark eyes pouring into yours as his hands curled around shadows.

'What happened?' you asked.

'You were run through,' he said, voice wavering.

'Oh.'

'You're my mate.'

Your eyes flickered away, staring at your tent. 'Oh.'

'That's it?' he whispered. There was some heart-break tainting his voice. 'You're not gonna say something?'

You pulled the blanket over you, daring to move to sit up. He shifted, but his shadows helped you. 'What do you want me to say, Az?'

'Why did you tell Cassian and not me?' he asked. 'Why didn't you tell me, for fifty years?'

'It's-it's not a big deal.'

'Not a big deal?' he all but seethed. 'I'd say finding your mate is a pretty big thing, y/n. It's the person to spend the rest of your life with.'

'Can we not, do this now?' you winced, as the words left your mouth.

'You're right, maybe we should wait another fifty years to bring it up when you're dying.' you've never heard him be so cruel, you'd never even argued with him before this.

'I wasn't dying,' you mumbled.

He scoffed. 'You had an infected wound in your leg that you didn't tell anyone about. An ash arrow was imbedded in your back. Imbedded! You didn't see anyone about it and then- you run into battle and get yourself stabbed.'

'I didn't get myself stabbed!' you argued, your temper rising above all other judgment. 'I didn't rush out in there, wanting to die!'

'I held you as you bled out!' he yelled, standing up from his seat. You were swinging your legs over the bed, ignoring every twinge in your body. 'Do you have any idea what that's like? Not even to hold you as you die in my arms the first time but the second. And to know this time, I was holding my mate?'

You bit down on your lip. He had to use the word with such care and love even when angry. You could feel it. For once, guessing his emotions wasn't needed as you felt it all. The taunt anger in him, the pull of anxiety and above all else, the weight of his love.

Azriel walked around you. 'Please, you have to tell me. Why didn't you say something to me? Why wouldn't you tell me you're my mate? Am I that repulsive to you?'

'What?'

He gulped.

You shook your head as he knelt in front of you, shadows pooled around the two of you, as if they were trying to hold the two of you together. You took his hands, holding them and let something like love flow down the bond. 'You are the most beautiful thing in this world. Something better than me. I wouldn't burden you with that.'

He rose his gaze to you. 'Burden me?'

'Do you think i've enjoyed lying to you?' you ask, finally finding your words. 'Do you think I've liked being your mate and never being with you? That I left you for fifty years and thought of you every moment of every day, all day long. That when I come back I wonder if you or Mor had grown closer? Or if Elian would finally tell you how much she loves you? It's been eating me alive. But it's a small price to pay.'

Azriel grasped at his words, chocking on them. 'Elian is nothing to me, nothing.'

You pushed yourself up, using his shoulder to steady yourself before you move around him. 'Why? Have you only just decided that because I’m your mate? That’s not how it should go, Azriel.'

He was following you around your tent as you slipped on armour and leathers over your night dress. ‘I want you, only you.'

'Because of the bond?'

'Because I’ve always only wanted you!'

You laugh. 'No, you haven’t.'

'If we’d talked about this maybe fifty years ago you’d know that!'

You shook your head. Perhaps a part of you didn't want to believe him and all those wasted years at your fault, but you didn't want to believe his words either. Because what did that mean? That he loved you and wanted you. But that seemed just as impossible to you. How could he want someone so wrecked who'd done nothing but run away from her feelings and does nothing to make anyone happy?

'I don't want you to feel like that,' said Azriel, approaching her. She thought she'd spoken aloud before she realised he could feel everything that was hers. She'd only ever had to shield her thoughts from her brother- and he rarely sort her thoughts. 'Please, please-' he took your shoulders, turning you around and gently resting his head on yours.

You could feel his warm breath over your lips. You almost lost all resolve, with him that close. You'd never been so close to him, close enough to touch. To kiss. To know finally what it mean to have that deep connection that everyone was meant for.

One person in the whole world to belong to.

And he was stuck with her.

'Azriel-'

'Whatever you're thinking about yourself, i've thought about me a thousand times. And ever since we were kids you've always stopped me from thinking that. You've always told me what I was worth,' he whispered. His hands were wondering down your arms, sending shivers down you. He could've been doing it on purpose, distracting you. 'Why won't you accept it for yourself?'

You gulped down every uneasy thought. 'Because you're good, Az and i'm-'

'You're everything.'

'I'm not,' you look up at him, his own face blurry from your tears unwilling to fall. 'I'm not a fighter, i'm afraid of pain. And I could never be a leader, because i'm scared of losing people. I'm terrified about it half the time. Why do you think I followed Rhys down to that stupid party that I knew I wouldn't come back from? Because he'd do the same for me? We both know he wouldn't. But what would losing him mean for you? or Cass, or Mor? I was a coward and I wanted to hide from all the pain his leaving would have caused.'

Azriel shook his head, words sinking in. You were comparing yourself, to warriors like him and Cass, to the high lord- your own brother. 'It was unbearable without you. Maybe if it was just Rhysand i'd have still been able to be spymaster, because that's what he needed. But when I realised you'd gone to, it ruined me,' he admitted. 'I didn't care what you would've wanted, because you weren't here to tell me.'

You rub at your forehead, the tension creating a pain in your already aching body.

'And to anyone who made you feel inferior or worthless, i'll kill them,' he said. It was a shine of the real Azriel. The one who made a promise and never broke it.

You smirk. 'Can't kill the high lord.'

'No,' huffed Azriel, like it was a mild inconvenience. 'But I sure can punch him in the face.'

You laughed at that and Azriel smiled. He'd cracked you.

But your amusement dropped quickly, he felt it like a penny dropping. He let go of you as you turned away, wiping at your eyes. He didn't want to see you cry, didn't want to be the one to make you upset. He only wanted to make you feel loved.

'This isn't how I wanted this to go.'

Azriel suddenly felt conscious of himself. Maybe this wasn't so much about what you felt, maybe it was more about what you felt toward him. 'You really hate the mating bond that much?'

You look over to him. 'Being your mate is my greatest honour. But I don't want you to love me just because you have to.'

'It's not that-'

'And I know you're gonna keep saying that.'

'Until you believe me,' he assured her. 'Even if I have to tell you every day until I die.'

'I can't ask you to do that.'

He smiled at you, a heart-breaking smile of love. 'You haven't.'

You open your mouth to say something, but you're interrupted by Cassain poking his head through the tent flaps. The rest of his whole body was hidden, only showing his bronze face and hair framing him. There was a sheepish smile on his lips.

Azriel huffed. 'Cassian.'

'What? It didn't sound like much love making going on.'

'Mother above,' you sighed.

'What?' whined Cassian. 'I'm just saying, didn't sound like I was interrupting anything.'

'Personally I didn't know he was capable of saying that many words,' said another voice, familiar and dull. Nesta.

You frown. 'I'm sorry, is the whole camp out there.' You storm out, without Azriel to stop you.

He let you get away, again, and now there was no way he'd get you to accept the bond until the battle was done.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The next time you and Azriel spoke, the war was over.

Elian had stabbed Hybern, Nesta had delivered the killing blow, to the head. And your brother had died.

For those few minutes of his death you wanted Feyre weep for him as you stood paralyzed, unable to move. This was the brother you worshiped, the one you’d follow to the end of the world. Did he know that when he went where you could not follow?

Feyre had done everything she could, she begged for his life back. And when her wish was granted, you were collapsing on his other side. Tears of joy in your eyes that Rhys wiped away.

Your family, safe.

Everyone seemed happy to return to Velaris. Home. Scars were left over everyone, fears and pains. Some wore them better than others.

You'd thrown yourself into life. And avoiding Azriel. Suddenly there were many friends you'd neglected that you needed to take dinner with, or so many spontaneous Rita nights with Nesta.

And none of it escaped his notice. The steady thump of the bond still thrived inside of you, his shadows followed everywhere you went, even loitering in your room.

If he was doing it in an attempt to annoy you, then you weren't gonna break first.

After a particularly harrowing Rita's night, the only thing you wanted to do was sleep in for the rest of the day, hide away from everyone and everything. Call it your coping mechanism.

Alas, there was no peace as your curtains were thrown open, light spilling in and burning through your eyelids.

'Knock it off!' the shadows had never bothered with waking you up before- it seemed they'd picked the worst time to start.

'We need to talk,' said a voice that certainly wasn't a shadow.

Rhysand.

You groan, rolling over. 'Can't you talk to me when i'm not hungover.'

'And when would that be, sister? you're getting as bad as Nesta.'

You throw your pillow off and at him, but he dodged it easily and with a smug smile. 'I hate it when you call me that.'

'What? When I compare you to Nesta? Clean up your act then.' He stood over your bed, his arms folded over his chest.

You glare at him. 'I meant sister.' You shuffled up, brushing your hair back.

Rhysand frowned and perched himself on the edge of your bed. There was something he wasn't saying, and you watched it weight heavy on his shoulders. 'You know the last time I was in your room you were throwing glasses at me and yelling at me to get out.'

'Well, don't give me ideas.'

His lips curled into a smile of amusement before he turned solemn again. 'Do you love me, y/n?'

You hadn't expected that. Your hangover could only get worse, your head swimming with possibilities as to why he was asking. And nervous, you were nervous. Maybe you'd never said you loved him out loud but surely your actions were enough of a tell. 'You're my high lord and my brother, of course.' you shrug it off, as if it was nothing.

The shadows trailed up the bed, as if sensing your anxiety.

Rhysand glanced over at you. 'Do you think I don't love you?'

You hesitate, chewing at the skin of your gum.

'Because I do. I do love you. You're my little sister, how can I not?' he muttered. 'And I didn't know you felt like that.'

'It was just sort of... obvious,' you said. 'I was never your sister, not really. I always knew that. You'd never see me like that so, I gave up thinking you would. But you're the only family I have.'

'No, I'm not,' he denied. 'Y/n, everyone in this house loves you. They're your family. And i'm sorry- i'm so sorry if my actions have ever made you think different.'

'Why now?' you ask, eyes screwed up looking at him. 'Why are you saying all this now, what's changed?'

He shook his head, strands of his hair- the same as yours- falling over his eyes. 'You almost died, died on that battlefield and I-I wasn't the first one there. Granted, it was your mate that reached you first but I, I wasn't there quick enough.'

You meet his gaze, his purple eyes sad in a way you'd only ever seen under the mountain. 'You died.'

'And as I was dying one of my deepest regrets was not calling you sister enough,' he shifted closer, taking your head in his hands as if you were a little kid. 'You are my sister. Full flesh and blood. Full love of mine. You are my family. After everything you've done for me. You were right, I needed you under there, when there was nothing good to keep me grounded, but you. My little sister.'

You were sure you were tearing up in front of him.

'You'll always be my sister.'

You laugh. 'Maybe I should get stabbed more often.'

'No,' he said seriously. 'I don't think Azriel would like that very much.'

The mention of him changed the tone in conversation, changed the very beating of your heart.

'What's going on with you two?'

'Oh, I see,' you tease, 'talk to me above sister and brotherly relations just to get in my love life. Not a good look on you high lord.'

He laughed. 'No, it's not that. I just care about the two of you, a lot. And you both deserve to be happy. And I think you'd be happiest with each other.'

You look down, twirling the rings on your fingers.

'Would it be so bad to try to love him?'

You shake your head, smiling as a tear rolls down your cheek. 'I don't even have to try. Feels like i've loved him forever.' his shadows climbed up your arm, leaving Rhysand to smile at the affection.

'You'll work it out,' said Rhys, leaning over and kissing the crown of your head.

Your door was thrown open, startling the two of you.

Azriel stood there. For his entrance, he didn't at all seem that confident when he stood in front of the two of you. His hands didn't know how to hold themselves in front of him.

Your brows rose. 'Were you listening at the door?'

'Azriel,' scolded Rhysand with a stupid grin.

'Get dressed,' he said simply to you. 'There's something you need to see.'

Without much room for argument, you kicked them both out and dressed.

You'd grudgingly let Azriel hold your hand as he led you through the woods. You'd winnowed in at an illyrian camp before he took you through it and into the woods close by.

It was the same camp you'd first met Azriel in. The oldest where you'd all become friends. You'd asked what you were doing there, but he was quiet as he led you through, helping you over roots or breaking twigs from the trees so they didn't hit you.

'Azriel, to any other girl, you leading her silently through a woods without saying anything would be a bit suspicious,' you tell him. His shadows trailed behind the two of you and his hand was secure in yours. You knew not to be scared, but you were still cautious.

'I wouldn't show any girl this,' he said.

After another half hour of walking, the two of you stumbled across a small hut. It was a tiny thing really, made out of twigs and sticks, hay and mud. It looked like something a child was capable of making.

Azriel paused in front of it. He let go of you hand and reached for the door. He was as tall as it and his wings had to tuck in tightly behind him.

Hesitantly, you followed in.

It was just as small as it looked and dirty, like it hadn't been touched in years. Cobwebs hung low (his shadows quickly tried to bat them all away for you) there was dirt and hay all over the floor. Glasses were dust filled and left around with a hundred other things. Some looked new, others old.

And yet, strangely familiar.

'I made this place,' said Azriel.

You looked back at him. He was hunched over a large box that was overflowing with things. 'You?'

'The first time my brothers picked on me, I came to these woods, working on this for days. Every time things got too much back then, i'd come here. I've been coming back for years.' he glanced at you, a sheepish look on his face. 'I've never showed anyone this before.'

You look around the place in new perspectives. The shadows settled around the place. You pictured a little Az, running here and hiding from his brothers. Did he feel alone? Did he feel un-loved? You were so enamoured by it you didn't realise he'd settled on the ground, pulling out things from his box.

'This is your glove, the one's you were wearing when we first met. You took them off to beat up some kid who was being mean to me. You didn't go back for them, you didn't even care.'

He said, pulling out a pair of red wool gloves. In spite of the hut, they were in perfect condition. Pristine. You remembered first meeting him, remembered the little soldier who'd been horrible. Those gloves wouldn't go anywhere near your hand now.

Azriel went in again. 'This is the empty glass jar of the cream you used to help my burns. Here's a book you read to me when I couldn't flip the pages myself. The notes you'd leave when you had to go back to camp. The flowers you picked for me and gave me for my birthday. Dried and stamped from every time you gave them to me.'

You stood, in shock as he kept taking things out.

'A terrible drawing I did of you when I was young. A locket of yours that broke and you never wore again. Stamps from our first theatre trip. Empty bottles from our first night together in Rita's- and Cassian's too. A letter you wrote to me when I was on a mission. A black ribbon from your hair, you used to always wear it with these things. Honestly, the amount I have in here,' and he pulled out several, of varying shades. Black, white, grey, red, dark green. All yours.

Azriel wasn't done. 'A page of annotations you did in one of Rhysand's books. A copy of your favourite poems. A coaster from the first time just you and I went to dinner. Here's some stones from when I first taught you to skim them. A quill that I used to use to write you letters. An old ring of yours is here too. Here's the first dagger you got me. It's too precious to me to be used to kill.'

Tears were falling down your cheeks as you watched him pull them all out and explain them in depth. There was more but the sight of it all was becoming blurred through your tears. The bond felt heavy and beautiful in you.

Azriel finally put the box down and fell to his knees in front of you. His hands came around the back of your thighs, holding you there as his eyes looked up into yours. 'Don't you ever think I don't love you, when I have loved you since we were eleven years old.'

You stutter on you breath. 'H-how?'

He rests his head on your stomach, looking utterly at your will and completely in love. 'How could I not?'

Slowly, as you could not move too fast, you settled down on your knees across from him. His hands moved up to your arms as yours went to his cheeks, brushing back his hair.

'It was always going to be you, wasn't it?' you mumbled. 'How could it be anyone else?'

Azriel kissed you then, finally. His lips were as soft as they'd looked, as you'd always imagined. His hands drifted to your waist, finger tips digging into to hold you close. His hands were strong, but his lips were gentle. He pulled away, only to groan in need before reaching for your lips again, harder, desperate.

His teeth bit down on your bottom lip, tongue sliding in to feel every corner of your mouth as his hands wondered around you, trying to grip onto any bit of you he could. Your arms wrapped around his neck, bringing him closer. Close enough to consume, to breath in.

You pulled back enough to catch your breath, arms still around his shoulders. 'Mother above, am I gonna make you the best meal of your life.'

But that could wait. For now, you'd settle for a dusty floor in the little house in the woods.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Taglist: @tothestarsandwhateverend @darlingbravebelle @lil-lupa @haileycannotcometothephantom @fairywriter-oracle @isa1b2h3 @tele86 @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife @unleashthelion @naturakaashi @aurora1115 @sirens-and-moonflowers @azriels-shadowsinger @willowpains @crazylokonugget @abysshaven @anuttellaa @wishfulwithwine @one-big-fangirl @harrystylesfan2686 @charlotteintumbleland @mellowarcadefun @starseedsamurai

[youraverageaemondsimp]

〄 BORDERLINE

⤷ Aemond Targaryen x F!Reader

{ CHAPTER I ; LOST & FOUND. }

You save a man from drowning and he claims he's Prince Aemond Targaryen who you know died in 130AC, surely he's just crazy, right?

Warnings: f&b spoilers, nothing too triggering really, reader thinks he's gone bonkers, fake dates, 1024 is basically 2024 + not proof read.

masterlist ; next >>

He felt Vhagars body giving up beneath him, her poor wings too exhausted to hold up her own weight to fly anymore as they battled, her croaks as she struggled to breathe fire onto the enemy before him.

His uncle, Daemon targaryen.

Aemond is sweating, he had been waiting all his life for this moment- to fight his uncle and at last his dream came true because of the witch he had taken in.

It was an open trap.

She envisioned that he'd win the battle, that he'd be alive.

That was a lie.

“Dracarys!” Daemon yelled distantly the fire being spit out by Caraxes, Vhagar— in a final attempt at protecting her rider, shielded Aemond with her wings, but that sudden movement caused Aemond to lose hold on her reins, His body falling down from the dragon's.

He only realised the lie as he fell through the skies, piercing through the wind at an intense speed as the dragons continued to fight before him.

Nonetheless he had no other choice but to accept his death, and so he did.

The waters welcomed him as if they had been waiting for him, he felt his life slowly slip away just like his sister had predicted that he would die, he closed his eye, just accepting his own fate, hoping that at least he'd find peace in the after life, or maybe he wouldn't; maybe he'd suffer in hell, after all he hurt many innocent people.

“You were swallowed up in God's eye, never to be seen again.” Helaena's words rung through his head, voice clear as day, feeling more suffocating than the water he's drowning in.

Just as Aemond's mind was reeling through the possibility, he felt a gust of air which made him breathe on reflex as he was pulled up by someone. He opened his eye in surprise.

He was… alive?

Someone saved him? Was it Alys? Was her prophecy right?

Many questions ran through his mind as he adjusted to his vision, but it was then he realised that he didn't recognise this place. Neither did he recognize you.

“Sir! Are you okay?!” You ask in a panic at the man who almost drowned before you. You were just taking a walk nearby the lake when you saw bubbles floating up to the surface with a silhouette of a man below, you immediately jumped in; knowing how to swim and ended up saving this man's life.

You took a note of his attire, noting that it might be very old fashioned style, perhaps he liked the medieval aesthetic? His shiny locks clung onto his clothes.

He coughed, water spurting out from his mouth and nose as his body desperately tried to get rid of the liquid that he drowned in. Aemond stared at the ground in shock.

His careful eye took note of the surroundings that were around him. Tall buildings that had square openings that shone brightly, even during what was supposed to be called a nighttime.

Quite frankly, it hurt his eye, the lights blaring into his cornea. He shut in reflex, not adjusted to whatever place he was at. You watched in silence as he sat up completely. His clothes were sticking to his body in an uncomforting manner.

“Where am I?” He asks, his face and tone sharp, behavior notwithstanding someone that was just drowning mere moments ago. “Uh? We're currently at God's eye lake.” You reply, not wanting to be too judgemental.

“God's eye? Where's Harrenhal?” He asks and you laugh at the mention of that place. “You mean the old castle? Yeah that was towed down years ago, they tried reconstructing it but weird incidents occurred, now that area is nothing but a memory.” You inform him.

“This doesn't look like God's eye.” He states out loud, taking in the difference in sight, a few boats floating on top of the waters, tied to a ledge, they did not look like the wooden boats.. They seem like they were made of steel. His eye widens. “Metal floats on water now? What is this sorcery?” He exclaims.

“Sorcery? Chill out with the medieval vocabulary, my guy. Aren't you too invested in your aesthetic?” You reply, shrugging his behavior off. “You mere— peasant, I am a Targaryen prince. Dragon blood runs through my veins, how dare you speak and mock me?” He grits his teeth, his voice low and dangerous.

You blink for a few moments before bursting out in laughter. “Oh gods! You're quite hilarious for a man that was drowning mere moments ago, say you didn't damage your brain did you?” You chuckle, checking his temperature.

The air gets knocked out of your lungs when he grabs you by your throat, pushing you onto the ground as he gets on top of you. “I will have your tongue, shall you speak any further mockery.” He whispers cruelly, his grip tightening around your neck. You gasp for air as you claw at his hands trying to pry them off, but he's too strong.

Great, is this how you're going to die? By the hands of a man who seems like is homeless or on drugs whom you saved? The seven are indeed cruel.

Your cursing to the God's was probably heard when you feel the oxygen rushing back in your lungs as he removes his hand away, but still straddling you. You look at him with doubt, wondering if he'd gone insane.

“I am Prince Aemond Targaryen, what is the Lady's name?” He asks, referring to you while getting off you and you wanted to laugh once again but you decided not to.

“Prince Aemond Targaryen? Are you serious? If you're Prince Aemond Targaryen then I'm Alicent Hightower.” You roll your eyes at his words waiting for him to act embarrassed as you made fun of him, but he doesn't say anything. He squints his eye in disbelief.

“Seriously? Cosplaying a historic character is one thing but claiming you're them seems more of a mental illness.” You tell him, getting off the ground and standing before him, looking down at him from above.

You waited for him to drop the act, yet nothing came out of his mouth. “What year is this?” He asks and you blink in confusion. “Uhm 1024, why?” You reply and his mouth drops in shock.

He had been sent 894 years into the future. His heart begins to race as he takes in his surroundings once again, nothing looking the same way as it did before.

He looked at you, the one who pulled him into this world, was it magic? No, you were too much of an airhead for this to be magic. Aemond sighs.

He had nowhere to go in this world. All his family was likely dead. So he stares at you in thought, acknowledging that he probably looks like an insane person to you right now. A person from the future.

He gulps as anxiety eats away at the pit in his stomach. “You alright?” You ask, but he suddenly stands up grabbing you by your shoulders. He had only you now.

“Watch.” He tells you, one of his hands travelling to his eyepatch before pulling it off and revealing his eye. Hoping that it would convince you that he's not crazy.

“A sapphire.. in your eye like Aemond Targaryen, wow the dedication is indeed there.” You clap lightly but Aemond tuts, annoyed at your skepticism.

You couldn't help but feel a little intimidated by him, the subconscious of your mind seemed to know more than you did, for some reason, it believed him.

He didn't look like a crazy person while claiming those things, he looked you dead in the eye while claiming that he was a Prince, and Aemond Targaryen himself. So you couldn't help but wonder if it was really true.

“Can I touch your hair?” You ask, the question leaving your mouth unexpectedly and you cover your lips in shock. Fuck, you needed to hold your tongue. He tilts his head.

“Nobody except the Targaryens have platinum blonde hair, the hair colour now cannot be inherited genetically as they are long extinct. Every last one of them died. Now you can only see this hair color if you bleach your hair or wigs.. But they have weird textures so.. I need to see if you're telling the truth.” You explain yourself as fast as you can before he gets mad. He processes your words and gives you permission to touch his hair, and you touch it indeed.

Your eyes widen at the smoothness, his hair showing no signs of dye or bleach, it's way too healthy and non frizzy. Out of curiosity, you pluck one of the hair strands which makes him wince. “You wench how—” He begins to speak.

“Shh!” You shush him, holding the hair closer to your face, as you stare at the root part of the hair, platinum blonde just like the rest. Your heartbeat starts picking up its pace as you stare at the shiny hair intensely.

You turn your head to look at him, his features stoic, way too calm and collected. You ignored this before but he radiated off such a mightier energy, his posture was prim and perfect, his sapphire eye glinted and stayed snuggled up in his eye. His working eye just stared at you, the pupil shrinking and expanding, mimicking the turmoil of emotions within him.

Your gaze took in his features intently, the nose, the lips, the eyes, the face shape all were similar to the painting you had seen when you were in high school, studying history.

That's when your history teacher's lesson replayed in your memory, recalling the memory, pulling you into a flashback.

//

“Aemond Targaryen, fell into the Lake God's eye during the battle with his uncle.. His dragon, Vhagar, was found at the bottom—” You write down the notes as the teacher speaks, writing down the dates of the incident.

“However, eerily enough, his body was never found. Not at the bottom, nowhere. It was as if he just vanished. Never seen again.”

‘His body was never found.’ you scribbled.

‘As if he vanished, never seen again.’ you took out your highlighter and highlighted the point.

//

You stared at the man in front of you before you looked at the lake you guys were standing at the edge of, the water coming to your feet, pulled by the wind, towards you.

‘His body was never found.’

‘Never seen again.’

The words repeated in your mind as you look at him again.

“So you really.... are Aemond Targaryen?” You question, your body shaking with the realisation, the weight of it feeling heavy on your shoulders, you hoped it was a joke, that the man in front of you was playing a joke. But everything fell in place way too perfectly.

‘never found ; never seen again.’

“Hmm.” He hums.

[really-fanny-longbottom]

okay sooooo

i had this little thought right

okay so maybe like reader has been a part of the inner circle for a looooong time like since the batboys were kids and they've all been friends forever, naturaly azriel has been in love with her since then, and a few years ago he realised they were mates (she doesn't know)

this one time she walks into the townhouse in just a bra and trousers, casually just walking in drinking coffee while the rhys and cass are just flabbergasted (cass being cass is eyeing the goods real hard because shes always been hot and he knows it) rhys is smirking and all (hes no less honestly)

then az walks in and hes just like what the fuck, she tries to explain smth happened to her shirt on the way and hes just grumbling and takes off his own shirt and is like put this own (cass is naturally making comments that make az's blood boil)

then you can choose where that goes from there

lmfaoooo im so sorry i couldn't get this idea out of my head

its okayyyy if you can't write it!!!

hi! sorry it took me so long to post but i've been really busy with university and only now have i had some free time.

anyway, here it is! thank you so much for this request, i loved writing it!

i hope you like it! 🫶🏻

my hero

summary: a small but very happy incident.

warnings: none

pairings: azriel x reader

words: 2.2k

tick 

tack

tick 

tack 

"ugh," a heavy groan escaped your lips at the sound of the clock. you seated slightly, your head pounding without mercy. 

as you looked at the window, your eyes fought against the early sunlight, before adjusting and finally allowing you to fully open them.

it took you a few seconds to remember your surroundings, and to be honest, to remember anything. 

the confusion didn't last long when all the memories from last night hit you all at once. 

you had gone out for the night with morrigan. you went to rita's for a girls night.

a night with a lot of drinking and dancing and singing and drinking again — mysterious headache solved.

you looked down on you, seeing the shiny short black dress you had chosen for last night specifically. 

you passed your hands through your messy hair and took a glance at your bedroom, absorbing the chaos that a very drunk you had caused.

how could just a person cause such a mess?

tick 

tack

tick

tack

"ugh!" a loud annoyed groan left your lips again

at the sound of the clock that kept attacking your brain. 

before you could think twice, you turned and reached out to punch the clock, causing it to fall to the ground.

you lowered yourself on the bed sheets with an arm over your head.

this was going to be a very long day.

and that's when it you.

your eyes and two seconds later, your legs were fighting against the bed sheets. 

after losing that battle, you ended up falling to the ground with a loud noise. 

a small 'huff' came out of your mouth before getting up and running to the clock as quickly as possible to check the time. 

10:07 am

"oh, shit."

you were late for your internship at the clinic.

"oh, shit."

you quickly begin to look for clean clothes at the same time you try to get rid of your dress. 

you manage to find something that looked relatively clean and put it on, your heart racing as you tried to get your hair to not look like a complete mess.

when you finished putting your hair in a more presentable state, you hurried to put on your shoes, but when you noticed the time again, you only managed to put on a sock before grabbing the first pair of shoes in sight and running out of your room. 

as you run for the stairs, you didn't have time to react before a body collided with yours and spilled coffee all over your t-shirt.

the hot contents against your skin forced you to let out a small scream and dropped the shoes to the floor as you struggled to pull the fabric of your t-shirt away from your body. 

"shit, shit, shit!" you cursed at the same time you blew on your t-shirt.

great, as if your day wasn't already going badly. 

"sorry," a small voice said.

you met your attacker's gaze as you looked up to see a beautiful female with green eyes and brown hair — morrigan's friend. 

right, you had forgotten that she had come home with the two of you — with mor. 

the female looked mortified as you stared at her annoyed. when you saw her opening her mouth to say something, you quickly stopped her.

"don't," you raised your hand at her, you didn't have time for this, "just. . .just go."

you pointed at morrigan's bedroom, whose door was slightly open. the female followed your direction, shrinking a little as she passed through you.

"idiot!" you cursed quietly. 

you looked at your bedroom and considered your options: the chances that you may find a new clean t-shirt in the middle of that mess, were very low and you were already late.

so you gave up and made your way down the stairs, starting to unbutton your shirt before completely taking it off, leaving you in your black lacy bra, and entering the kitchen.

rhysand and cassian who had been enjoying a late breakfast found themselves speechless upon your entrance. 

their gazes followed you as you moved to the sink and started working on removing the stain.

the males shared a gaze between them, identical smirks forming on both of their faces.

"good morning, y/n." rhysand greeted you as he took a sip of his tea cup.

you jumped startled, your eyes found theirs immediately, "gods, i didn't see you there."

rhysand's smirk grew wider. "oh, we know."

"did you get mugged?" cassian asked as he took in your figure.

you were barefoot with only one sock and shirtless.

"what?" you asked confused. 

cassian's eyes roam over your body.

"oh, no, morrigan's friend though it was a good idea to spill her coffee over me. freaking idiot," you murmured the last part, still focused on the task in hand.

cassian let out a snort "well, i'll make sure to thank her personally for this amazing view."

you rolled your eyes at his comment "oh, shut up, cassian. we grew up together, we've all seen each other naked at one point."

rhys smirked and grew before adding "sure, but we were either kids or teenagers at those times." 

cassian glanced at his brother, amusement all over his features "maybe we should go back to those times."

with another roll of your eyes, you tried to suppress a smile at your friend's comment while trying to get rid of the stain.

as on cue, the shadowsinger entered the kitchen to join his brothers for breakfast.

instead, he was surprised with a view of you shirtless — his shirtless mate.

the very reason, rhys and cassian had begun to tease you in the first place. 

what made this whole situation much funnier — the fact that you weren't aware of this detail. 

and things had just become a lot more interesting now with azriel in the room. 

his eyes widened at the sight of you but when he turned to find his brothers, his eyes darkened and a low growl was released.

"nice of you to join us, brother," cassian said casually as he leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest.

he can practically feel the heat coming off of azriel, like smoke coming out of his ears.

"what's wrong, az?" rhys asked him, knowing exactly what was going on but seeing azriel riled up was too funny to miss it.

at the sound of their voices, you looked up and your eyes found a pair of hazel ones.

"oh, hi, azriel." you greeted him with your sweet smile — the one he liked so much.

the shadowsinger found himself melting at your words, at the way you said his name. 

his eyes instantly softed, a small blush coming to his cheeks and a goofy smile on his lips, "h-hi, y/n." 

you gave him a warm smile before going back to your task.

azriel regained his composure at the sound of his brothers' muffled laughter. 

he sighed and rolled his eyes at their behavior, he hadn't catched a break from them since he revealed the mating bond on one drunken night.

cassian elbowed rhys gently in the ribs to get his attention, when his eyes found his, the general gestured with his head to the shadowsinger. 

"hey, az" cassian tried to contain his urge to laugh, he knew what was about to happen. 

"what?" azriel managed to say, his eyes still on your figure.

"we were just talking. . ." cassian started, his voice teasing "about going back to those times when we were teenagers." 

azriel face scrunched in confusion, he shot his brother a look. 

"you know," cassian continued, his peripheral vision caught rhys trying to control himself  "those times where we didn't care about being naked in front of each other." 

both rhys and cassian snorted at the sight of azriel's face turning red.

"what?!" the male let out a little too loud then he had intended.

rhys proceeded, "yeah, you know. when we didn't care so much about formalities. don't you agree, y/n?" 

you rolled your eyes again at rhys comment, "i think you two have too much free time" you chuckled, "cauldron has mercy on the poor females that will ended up as your mates."

"hey!" both cassian and rhys protested.

azriel smiled at your comment, but it fell when he observed both of his brothers eyes roaming over your body, grins splattered on their features.

azriel moved to the edge of the table, placing his hands on the surface of it before giving them a glare and clenching his jaw.

"stop looking at her like that before i break your faces" he threatened through gritted teeth. 

cassian and rhys were quick to lift their arms in surrender, both muttering a small "yes, sir." 

azriel rolled his eyes in annoyance. his attention was caught when he heard you cursed quietly. 

he sent one last warning look to the two males before moving to stand behind you.

he was so close, that all it took was another step of his for your back to be pressed against his chest.

azriel would love to know the feeling of that sensation, but he remained where he was.

he peeked through your shoulder and saw that you couldn't get rid of the annoying coffee stain. 

"gods, madja is going to kill me for being late." 

without a second thought, azriel took a step back.

"here," he told you.

you turned to find him taking off his own shirt.

your eyes roamed his body — his sun-kissed skin, his muscles, his illyrian tattoos. 

you loved those tattoos. 

"put it on," he extended his hand to you, holding out his shirt.

"oh, that's not necessary, az. i-"

"it's okay, y/n. i- i want you too. by the way, why don't you go get your shoes and i'll take you to the clinic? it's quicker that way and you don't have to walk." 

your face softened, "really? you would do that?" 

the corner of his lips lifted for a small smile, only you to make him feel this way.

"of course." 

you grabbed his shirt, "ugh, thank you, az."

you put it on and azriel tried to not let the sight of your small feature into his too big of a shirt to affect him, but he failed when his heart skipped a beat.

you moved forward and grabbed his cheeks, kissing him on the left one.

caught off guard, azriel tried to hide the fact that his skin had heated up under your touch. 

a new blush came to decorate his cheeks. 

"hm. . .i-" the male couldn't find his words with the sound of his heart roaming in his ears. 

"you're my hero, az" you gave a big smile before making your way to the stairs to collect your shoes. 

azriel stood there in the middle of the kitchen with a hand making it's way to his face to touch the place you kissed him.

cassian and rhys burst out laughing, not being able to remain composed of their brother in love. 

cassian got up from his seat and walked towards his brother, clasping a hand on his back.

"behold of the big bad scary shadow-," cassian leaned over in laughter, "shadowsinger" he managed to complete. 

rhys appeared on his other side, "oh, brother. only if your enemies could see you now, they would think how big of a fool they are."  

azriel clenched his jaw again, and when he turned to answer them, he was stopped by a honey-sweet voice.

"i'm ready," you told him from the entrance.

once again, the shadowsinger was left completely disarmed.

a goofy smile reappeared on his face. 

he didn't even spare a glance at his brothers before making his way to you, "let's go then."

cassian and rhys were left in the kitchen laughing to themselves.

•••

the trip to the clinic was quick.

azriel landed softly on the ground, keeping a hand on your waist and another on your back to make sure you were stable.

you took a step forward before turning to him.

"thank you again, az. you literally just saved my morning." 

and there it was that goofy smile again.

"oh, it's nothing really. my pleasure." 

you let out a small giggle. you reached forward, surrounding his neck with one of your arms and gave him a kiss on the cheek again.

azriel's heart raced and his voice caught in his throat. 

you took a step back "you're my hero, azriel. what would i do without you?" 

you caressed his cheek with the back of your hand before giving him one last smile and moving towards the clinic.

"hm, i-" was all the male managed to say while watching you entering the clinic with his shirt.

he watched as you grabbed the door, and turned to him to wave goodbye. 

azriel returned the gesture. it was at that moment that he realized how much power you had over him.

he didn't push away that feeling, in fact he embraced it.

it was about time to let the walls he had built so long ago disappear. 

and you were the right person for that.

azriel made a decision at that moment.

at the end of the day, he would come pick you up and ask you out on a date.

he would buy you flowers, tell you how he felt and take you to dinner.

he just hoped you felt the same way.

and that you said yes.

masterlist

general taglist: @emryb @fantasyandshit @azrielover @shadowsingercassia @littlelou22 @brieflyclassymortal @lilah-asteria @meul-a @lure-of-writing @pruvii @olive-main @mybestfriendmademe @anuttellaa @mrsjna @lively-potter @avajustreads @talesofadragon @circe143 @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @dark-chaos-314 @tequilya @scoliobean @saltedcoffeescotch @charlotteintumbleland @agirlwithwifiandalaptop @987coley

*if you asked to be tagged and you weren't, it's because I couldn't find your blog.

the beautiful dividers belong to @cafekitsune

[the-darklings]

Oh god please write the timebomb fic!!! (or several lol)

ೀ pairing: ekko/jinx

ೀ wc: 5k

ೀ summary: "Always a dance with you, huh?" Or: two years after the battle versus Noxus, Ekko receives an unexpected visitor.

ೀ author notes: ask and you shall receive!!! I wrote this in one sitting in some weird ass haze and barely edited it, but this is the most fun I had in a long while so I hope you enjoy!!!

ೀ read it on ao3 | listen to the playlist

The first few days after the battle, Ekko doesn’t rest. He barely sleeps or eats, or allows himself time to think. 

He can’t. 

There’s too much to do. The dead are in their dozens. His Firelights took a major hit, and he knows that for the next few months his fingers will be numb from painting their pictures on the mural day in and out. So many who could have lived but didn’t. So many could have had better futures. But if he just runs, if he keeps pushing on, he can outrun these regrets and his grief, too. This way, he doesn’t remember Vi’s heartbroken expression when she pulled him into a bone-crushing hug after the fight, blood and sweat still clinging to her, her words choked when she told him—

Four seconds. 

He could have saved her. He would have hauled her snarky ass out of that tunnel, ripped that bomb from her hands. He would have—

He runs from those thoughts, too. They suffocate him, and Ekko has too much to fix to be suffocated by his grief right now. 

He sure as hell didn’t fight for Piltover. He fought for Zaun, for Firelights. Because he knew Ambessa Medarda would never settle for anything other than complete subjugation. She would have destroyed Ekko’s home. She was already busy murdering and imprisoning their people, and nothing but complete eradication would have followed in her wake. 

Ekko did it for… her. The blue-haired symbol of defiance, of uprising. A loud declaration that they won’t live under Piltover’s oppression forever, that they’ll reach greater things one day and won’t be silenced. They won’t wait for permission to breathe again. It’s what she would have wanted, he convinces himself, even though part of him knows Jinx would have enjoyed the chaos of the fight more. Or maybe not. Not since that little girl. Not since he had to save her from herself over and over again, only to lose her anyway. 

Undercity mourns her. Her visage is everywhere. Jinx the Saviour. She would have hated it, he thinks wryly. She never got to see just how loved she was. 

Maybe he should have grabbed her and ran away. Maybe he should have let the world go to hell and saved her instead. The thought, born of fatigue, lingers only for a few fleeting seconds, a rare moment of selfishness amidst a day spent fixing the world around him. 

Maybe, maybe, maybe. If only he had tried harder when they were kids and saved her from Silco. If only he didn’t give up on her. 

She’s always been his biggest maybe. And now they’ll never be more. Not this version of them. Never him and her as they were. 

Aw, are you gonna mope now, boy saviour?

“You’re not here.”

It punches clean through his chest. The realisation of it. The sheer, horrible weight. He’ll never see her again. 

Constants and variables, Benzo told him once. Constants and variables, young Ekko.

A week after the battle versus Noxus, Ekko sinks to his knees inside his room, exhausted and heartbroken, and sobs. 

.

Things begin to settle. Slowly, at first, the city might have been gutted after the battle but not destroyed, the morale low but hopeful. Hexgates are gone, and Ekko is glad when he finds out. He doesn’t want to see or hear anything about the arcane for a while. No magic in the world could fix the pain festering in his chest. 

Sevika, Silco’s old second-in-command and once his sworn enemy, comes to him two weeks after the attack. 

“They’re making me a council member,” she says, grunting when she falls into the tiny wooden chair inside his room. 

She’s always been a threatening figure, power rippling from every shift of her body, but Ekko isn’t sure he wants to fight anyone right now. Nor does she seem interested in strangling him. She lights a cigarette, her scarred features set in a fearsome scowl. 

“And?” he asks for anything better to say. “How is that any of my business?”

Sevika exhales through her nose, reminding him of an angry bull, all smoke and steely resolve. “I’m the only one presenting Zaun or her interests.” 

Ekko almost rolls his eyes. Of course she is. The Council is simply falling over themselves to fix the situation. After months of harassment and oppression, false arrestments and beatings, they asked them to bleed for Piltover and its interests with nothing but the bare minimum courtesy extended towards them afterwards.

“I could use you, kid,” Sevika continues, and Ekko forces his anger away, loosening his fists. “Exactly for that reaction. You’re smart as hell, and been a pain in my ass for years. Pilties will try to walk all over us again in a few months’ time. You and I both know it. We gotta beat them in their own game. Not let them silence us again. I could use someone like you. Be my adviser. You’ll have a direct line to the Council. We’ll make an actual change. It’s better than whatever this is.”

Ekko’s expression sours at her words while Sevika’s gaze flicks around his room in contemplation. He works all day to a point of exhaustion, then passes out. It’s the only way he’s been able to continue, day in and day out. Being in a leadership position means you can’t take time off to grieve. Too many people are relying on him. It’s bad enough that he accidentally abandoned his people for months without meaning to. The guilt he still feels over everything has been nearly suffocating. 

It’s a good gig, hero! You should do it and be a thorn in her side.

Ekko blinks the flash of blue from his vision, rubbing his brow just as Sevika adds: “It’s what she would have wanted, you know.”

A jolt of electricity runs through him. Everyone, even Vi, has been avoiding mentioning Jinx in front of him.  

His jaw clenches. “You don’t know that.”

“Kid, I know what not letting go looks like,” she says, and it almost sounds compassionate, or as close to it as someone like her can get. “We had our differences in the past, I know as much—”

“You killed my people,” Ekko snaps. “Do you know how many lives you destroyed with Shimmer?”

“Sure do,” she replies listlessly, smoke billowing past her lips. “I won’t try to justify my actions to you. But y’know, when you were gone, Jinx united Zaun in a way I haven’t seen since Vander. Beats me how she did it, but people believed in her. Even your Firelights.”

It mirrors everything he’s seen and heard for weeks. Jinx freeing their people, Jinx the Saviour, the beacon for their new future. The one who set and lived by extreme examples, who made Piltover back off and take the Undercity seriously. Because they all finally realised that there can never be peace without a fight. She should be here to fight this battle with him. Ekko should be busy arguing with her that blowing up another building will not make things right. He shouldn’t be walking around with her ghost a step behind him, tormenting him with ideas of what could and should have been. 

“And now she’s dead!”

His ears ring, his chest heaves, and he clutches his thudding heart, willing it back in its cage. He didn’t mean to come undone so easily. 

“Yeah. Yeah, she is,” Sevika says, and there’s a grimness to her when she says it, an unexpected pain buried somewhere deep in her gruff voice that makes Ekko see her differently. “I get it.”

“No,” he whispers, pained. “You don’t.”

.

Seven months pass before Ekko finally picks up a brush for her. 

He sleeps better at night but not without nightmares. Not without remembering Powder from the alternative universe and how they danced. How sweet her kiss felt. Not without that memory smearing to finding Jinx with a grenade in her hand, again, ready to disappear, go somewhere he could never reach her. 

Ekko still hears the detonation in his ears, over and over, on a sickening loop. His mind likes to torture him with ideas he failed to save her. That no matter what he does, or how he mends time, she’s forever out of reach. His blue beacon, his lighthouse he can never find in the depthless ocean of reality. 

Many have drawn her, but he still thinks that no one knows the exact hue of her hair or the wicked shine in her eyes better than him. He’s spent an entire lifetime examining them, looking for them in a sea of thousands. 

Their city is rebuilding. He agreed to Sevika’s request after a few days of contemplation. Caitlyn Kiramman’s expression when he ambled into the Council room was worth the additional burden now on his shoulder. But she’s changed too, matured, and now fills her position as the Council’s leader well. 

Ekko won’t forget how she allowed his friends to be imprisoned, tortured, and, in some cases, killed, but her regret made her side with him and Sevika more often than not during voting, and maybe he could at least one day forgive her. Another maybe. For Vi, if nothing else, who clearly loves the blue-haired woman fiercely. 

The barren wall stares at him. He’s painted Powder before, but this is different. One day, his friend, his dearest friend, was simply gone. Without a goodbye, in a wake of tragedy. The life Ekko once had disintegrated beneath his feet overnight. Benzo killed. Vander dead. Mylo and Claggor too. Vi died as well. Or so he believed for years. Powder was missing until a different knife was delivered to him weeks later, when the word on the street spread about Silco being seen with a little girl with blue hair. 

Ekko sighs, hanging his head. The city is healing, but he isn’t, or at least not as quickly. 

He runs his hand over the white wall, picturing Jinx as he saw her last, those precious hours between talking her down from the abyss and their joint attack on Noxian forces. It felt so good to rely on her again, to stand with her, side by side. As natural as breathing. 

You’re the order to my chaos, hero. 

“Leave me alone,” he says quietly, head hung low. “It’s been months.”

A figment of Jinx chortles, arms crossed over her chest as she leans back against the wall. You would get bored to death without me. Ha! Get it? 

Shooting a glare at her, Ekko picks up a brush, his fingers quivering. Tears burn in his eyes when he dips the brush into the paints he painstakingly mixed. He works, and works, until his eyes are dry and his wrist hurts. Ekko doesn’t stop until he loses light and when he steps back, he is looking at Jinx. Equal parts chaos and something ethereal. 

He wipes angrily across his mouth when he tastes saltiness pooling there and goes home. 

There’s no sleep that night. 

.

Time is a strange thing. It weaves and flows. Without his Z-Drive, he has no control over it. Time simply goes on, and he’s the passenger in a vehicle he doesn’t want to move. 

He’s important these days. He’s one of the few bright minds still left, and he’s endlessly busy with something. City of Progress needs every mind that can be spared. Wounds heal, and time dulls the memory, but not everything is so easily forgotten. Piltover moves quicker, but the Undercity erects a statue for Jinx beside Vander’s. He sees Vi at the ceremony, and they exchange strained smiles. They speak sometimes, but it’s not as often as it used to be. They’re both dealing with their grief the best they can.

At least Vi has Cait. Ekko has nothing but a cold bed and purpose. 

He and Sevika make a good team. It almost makes him wonder what could have been in a universe where they were on the same side from the start. His Zaun, cracked but not broken, is resembling the bright version of the Zaun and Piltover he saw in the alternative verse. There're years of work still left, but there’s something like hope in him, fragile and misplaced as it might be. 

A year passes. Then two. He visits the graves; he lights candles for those lost. Some days Ekko sees her, other days he doesn’t. He hopes for a glimpse, even when he knows he shouldn’t. It should be easier to let go of what you never had, right? 

His mural for Jinx grows. Other faces join her, people who died believing in her, surrounding the one they placed their trust in. And, at the centre of it all, her, her, her. 

Still her. 

Always her. 

. 

He’s not sure what arouses him. He hasn’t slept well in years, perpetual exhaustion clinging to him like a shawl. Some would call it the weight of living, no doubt. 

There’s a shift in the air, a disturbance that’s not enough to make Ekko jolt awake and reach for a weapon, but enough to make his eyes flutter open. He breathes the cool air, pushing his grogginess away. 

There’s a shape at the foot of his bed. Small and round. It takes several seconds for his vision to adjust, for him to realise that a hooded figure sits perched on his bed, knees pulled to their chest.

Ekko hasn’t had to rely on his battle instincts in two years, but there’s enough left in him to attack without hesitation. His fingers tangle in the cloak, shoving the figure down, his knee pressing harshly into their abdominal, hands seeking the intruder’s throat—

“Wow, little man, you sure know how to roll out the welcoming mat,” the all too familiar voice drawls before his fingers tighten instinctively around the slender, warm throat. 

A haggard breath forces from Ekko’s parted mouth. In the wild struggle, the stranger’s hood has slipped down, revealing a familiar face with a startling crop of blue hair. His heart squeezes painfully, forcing him away from Jinx’s apparition. 

“Leave me alone,” he croaks, rubbing his eyes till his vision swims. “Just leave me alone! I don’t want to see you anymore!”

“Huh, fine. I thought after two years, the welcome would be a tad warmer. Brrr.”

Ekko pushes himself to his feet, stumbling away, watching warily as the young woman sits back up, picking at her messy hair. She looks different. A little older than Jinx from his visions or memories. Her hair is longer, though nowhere near the same length she once had braided into two twin braids. She swings her leg back and forth, another pulled up to her chest while she watches him. And… her eyes. Ekko was the last person to see her with blue eyes before their battle on the bridge. The last time he saw Jinx alive, they were a dangerous, burning violet. 

Now, even with the shade of the night, they’re a muddy mix between the blue he once knew, and the piercing violet that made her so deadly. As if that restless edge in her has calmed down and settled. 

Ekko’s chest heaves as he stumbles back a step. 

“Soooo—” she begins.

“You’re alive.”

Jinx shrugs her shoulders. “Yup. Clearly. In the flesh even,” she crows, but it’s more muted when compared to the wildness he once faced off against. 

His hand flies to his stomach, and Ekko distantly wonders if he’s about to throw up in front of a girl he’s spent his entire life loving. 

Mercifully, his stomach settles, but his heart beats so loudly he can hear the blood rushing in his skull. 

“You’re alive,” he repeats, harder this time. “It’s been two years.”

“Yeah.”

She doesn’t offer more than that, but there’s a shadow over her narrow face. She’s healthier. There’s more weight on her bones, her skin has lost some of the pallidness. As if someone took Powder and Jinx, split them clean down the middle, and fused them into one body. Stronger, more self-reassured, less teetering on the brink. 

“Would have written but mail is crappy where I was,” she jokes, her voice a familiar, drawling litany. “Besides, this is so much more mysterious—”

He closes the distance between them in two steps. His room isn’t big but he would have walked, ran, sprinted if needed to close the distance between them. His arms wrap around her and Ekko squeezes her so tightly he hears a small breath escape Jinx. She’s solid and warm. Smells faintly of sea and something metallic. Ekko buries his face in the soft crook of Jinx’s neck, gasping for breath. 

“Woah, hero, you’re gonna break my ribs,” she whispers, but her arms wind around him, more careful, unsure. “I thought you hated me?”

Even when he releases her, Ekko’s hands linger on her, go to her face, examining her through the crack of light illuminating his room. 

“I saw you,” he breathes, devastated. “I saw you everywhere. I hoped to see you everywhere.”

Something flickers over her face, an unknown thing, secretive and distant as she’s always felt to him. 

“Geez, seeing things? And they call me crazy.”

“You’re not crazy.”

There’s such vehemence in his voice it startles them both. Jinx nibbles on her inner cheek, searching his face cautiously. “I thought you’d be mad.”

Ekko laughs, a low huff of amusement. “Do you think I care for you so little, huh?”

Too late he realises he’s without a shirt, and is, in fact, mostly bare before the girl he’s harboured a crush on for years. Near boyish shyness forces Ekko back, making him clear his throat. His hands tremble when he reaches for a discarded t-shirt, hoping it doesn’t smell bad when he pulls it over his head. When he glances at her over his shoulder, Jinx is still there, still watching him, though there’s a thoughtful air around her. 

When she notices him looking, she offers him a sarcastic grin.

“No need to get shy, stud.”

“Shut up,” he grumbles.

He plops down on his unmade bed, watching her watch him. Her face is half hidden by her arms propped on her bent knee, but the silence between them isn’t awkward. They’re taking each other in, taking in the changes that have touched them both in the last two years.

“Why come back now?” he asks, eventually. 

Jinx blinks, near feline-like, dropping her head back to stare at his ceiling as if it may offer an answer. “I’m a crappy friend, but not that crappy. Happy birthday, wonder boy.”

There’s a creak in his heart, a lightness in his ribcage, a balloon of affection despite their troubled history that inflates just for her. “You remember my birthday?”

She makes a sound at the back of her throat. Glances at him from the corner of her eye. “Well, we picked it together, silly, so sure I do.” Shadows fall over her features when she angles her head away. “I… I never thought I would come back—that it was better this way.”

“I’m glad you did.”

Something close to a smile ghosts over her face at his response. Ekko can’t rip his gaze away from her. He fears that if he does, he’ll wake up and she’ll be gone again, and he’ll have to relive the agony of losing her again. 

“Does Vi—”

“No. No. And it’s better this way.”

“But—”

“Drop it, Ekko. Please.”

He does. Because this is too good to be true, and he doesn’t want this to end. Emotions mix inside him, battling for dominance, so he sits there, letting them all wash over him. 

“You’ve been busy,” she says abruptly, nodding her head in the general direction of the outside world. “Their new wonder boy. I’m not surprised. You’ve always been good at creating things. Good things.”

“And you’ve always been good at fixing them,” he says. 

Ekko thinks back on the countless times she helped him to fix up old rubbish others have discarded and sell them in Benzo’s shop as small treasures. It feels, now, like a lifetime ago. In a sense, it has been. 

She snorts; it’s an ugly, hateful sound. “Not always.”

There’s weight to how she says it. Pain lingers in each syllable, more so a whispered confession. She’s thinking of others, those lost through accidents or her own direct involvement. 

“I’m sorry about Isha,” Ekko says carefully, thumb pressing into the hollow of his bare knee. He itches to take her hand, to smooth his thumb over her knuckles instead, but he doesn’t. She’s never been his to touch. “Vi told me about her.”

Jinx shrinks, turning away and he mentally curses. A sore spot even years later. Understandably so. 

“I… shit. Sorry.”

“What’s with the long face?” she exclaims suddenly, jumping to her feet and twirling. Her hands drop to her hips and she grins at him, all mischief. “C’mon, we gotta get out of here.”

Ekko squints. “Uh, what?”

“It’s your birthday, silly,” she says, like it should be obvious. “We’re going to spend the day together.”

.

Jinx keeps her hood up, her gait steady. Any sign of blue tucked away. She’s changed her attire to draw less attention, and as they walk in the hazy dawn light towards the bridge separating the sister cities, it feels almost normal. Casual. Not at all like the last time they spoke, they were about to fight side by side in a battle for their lives. Not at all like he spent two years thinking she’s dead. That still stings, but knowing how she felt back then, the state she was in before he talked her down from the edge, the pain she’s been through, Ekko can’t bring himself to feel resentful. He only wants to hold her and tell her it’ll be okay because she’s not alone. 

“You’re not saying, are you?” he asks, hands in his pockets. 

“Nope,” she replies, popping the p. “Can’t.”

Words rush to his tongue. Insistence that she can and should stay—that there’s space here for her, not just in his life, but in the new Zaun he’s helping to shape. He almost admits it to her then. That he’s built this for her and the ones they lost along the way. 

Ekko continues walking, staring at the ground, noticing too late she’s fallen behind. He peers over his shoulder and freezes when he notices what’s caught her attention. The mural. Welcoming anyone coming into Zaun. Her face, slightly younger but now immortalised, peers back at them. 

“You drew this.”

He loosens a breath. “Yeah, I did. I, uh, just…”

Jinx reaches for her own face, fingertips ghosting over the painted wall. There’s tension on her face when she turns to look at him, something piercing and hard and thoughtful. Same pinch to her eyebrows he saw earlier in his bedroom. 

“I won’t let them take you,” he says softly. “If they came for you. I would fight for you.”

She doesn’t break their eye contact. “I know. You shouldn’t, but I know you would.”

“Then stay.”

She saunters forward, stopping only when they’re almost chest to chest. “I’m not her, y’know? The other me. The one you love.”

He smiles, huffing a small breath, refocusing on her and her small pout. Ekko reaches forward, tucking a few stray strands back under Jinx’s hood, lingering for a beat. “I wasn’t her Ekko, either. That’s why I came back. I like this version of you just fine. But just so we’re clear, every version of you is a pain in my ass.” He tugs on a small braid, grinning when she shoots him an annoyed glare and slaps his hand away. “But I won’t have it any other way. Wait, no. It sure as hell would be simpler if you didn’t try to kill me anymore, but I guess I’ll deal with that, too.”

Jinx snorts, absently reaching for the spot he touched, her gaze softer than before. “Ha! You hit like a girl, by the way. I never got to tell you.”

“You tried to blow us up.”

“Eh,” she whines. “That was one time. You gotta let that go.”

Ekko exhales a small laugh and realises he hasn’t smiled or laughed this much in years. Joy was leeched from him with her absence, and while he did his duties, there was no security of Jinx’s usual push and pull to keep him balanced and focused. Even when they were enemies, hunted each other down and attacked each other, they existed on opposite sides of a perfectly balanced sphere. 

Her nearness, the relief of having her there, overshadows the darker recollection of that afternoon when she tried to blow them up more than once. Memories so painful Ekko wishes to scrub them from his mind forever, yet they remain seared into his psyche. 

She grabs his elbow, dragging him forward, breaking the surrounding gloom. “Come on then,. Things to do, things to see.”

And Ekko does what he’s done since they were young. He follows her. Because they might not have tomorrow.

.

The day goes by too fast. Almost a blur. A series of snapshots Ekko will lock away in his mind forever. He never expected he’d get to do this again. This is something his younger self could have only dreamt about once. When they dreamt of simpler things; flashy toys and delicious sweets, things only a young boy could fantasise about, aside from a loving home, because at least that much he had. 

They walked and talked and joked around, eating street vendor food all day. Ekko knows they’re pushing their luck, but he can’t help himself. Jinx grew up here. This is her home too, and he wants to show her the progress they’ve made. There’s something comfortable about her snarky commentary and ill-timed jibes at the Council members. She asks about Vi only once, in relation to Cait, and Ekko tells her the truth. 

They’re happy. They’re together. She nods, satisfied, and moves on.

“We should go see Jericho next.” It’s an offhand suggestion while they walk the newly paved river path. Now people from the Undercity can enjoy the same luxury of having a peaceful sidewalk to take their kids down. It’s amazing how it’s the small things that bring people happiness. 

“Can’t,” Jinx replies, glancing towards the setting sun. Her smile twists; it’s still a smile, but it’s sad, in a way. “Sorry, hero.”

He takes several seconds to speak. “So, you’re leaving anyway.”

“Yes. I told you I can’t stay.”

“It’s a pity, then.”

She tilts her head. “Why?”

Damn her for even asking. Damn her and all the shitty circumstances for keeping them apart. Damn her for picking him during that game of hide and seek years ago. Damn her for being there for him and not being there at the same time. Damn her for being his entire world for years. Even when Ekko thought he hated her, he wasn’t free of her. He never could be. His girl with blue hair. 

He’s in love with her, in every possible way, but they both know they can’t work like this. There’s too many ghosts for Jinx here, and despite the changes, Ekko can’t promise her she won’t get dragged off to Stillwater the moment authorities find out she’s alive after all. 

Ekko frowns, clenches his fists, and walks away. 

But she’s like an anchor to him. He stops several paces away, tied to her. “You’re gonna break my heart.”

They’ve been everything from friends to enemies and strangers to reluctant allies again. So much of his life has revolved around her. Continues to revolve around her. Past and present. But if Jinx sends him away now, if she walks away, Ekko will let her go. Because he can finally rest easy, knowing she is alive and well, even if they’re apart.

“In any other universe, I might have loved you,” she breathes. 

He pivots towards her, his nostrils flaring. “Love me in this one,” he insists, reaching for her. Ekko cups her cheeks, tilting her head until her hood slips back down, exposing her blue hair to the setting sun. He’s glad there’s no one in sight because he can’t think straight right now. “Choose me now. Ask me to go away with you. Ask me.”

He presses his forehead to hers. Jinx’s empty gaze appears glazed over, her thoughts far away no matter how hard he tries to grip her and hold her close. 

“I don’t deserve you, boy saviour,” she whispers emptily. “You’re good.”

“No one decides for me, Jinx. Not even you.”

She blinks owlishly, searching his wild stare, a pained expression on her face, her fingers knotting against her chest. “What if you don’t want me after a while? I’m… different and if I get bad again... What if—”

“Ask me, damnit.”

Jinx loosens a shaky breath, jumping through a hundred micro-expressions in a few seconds. A painful mix between hope and dread. 

“C…” Her eyes squeeze shut. “Come with me.”

Ekko sags in relief. “Yes.” He holds her, wraps his arms around her despite the unsure way she folds against him. As if she’s unsure where to put her hands. If she should. “Yes, I’ll come with you. I don’t care if you’re different. I want you as you are, okay? No matter where we are.”

A tremulous breath wheezes past Jinx’s lips. But with that, she melts into him, burying her face against him. Her embrace grows desperate and tight, a tremble shuddering through her body. 

“Always a dance with you, huh?” he says after a moment.

She chuckles, the sound warming his collarbone. “And you still got two left feet, boy wonder.”

Constants and variables, young Ekko, Benzo told him once. Everything bad that can happen in this universe might come to pass, but so might everything good.

----

an: ahh I know this isn't really my usual offering but I really hope you guys enjoyed, it's been a while since i've cared enough about canon/canon ship to do this.

[keepthedelta]

i doubt this will ever reach the person it's intended for but i do want to point out that lewis very much lost the psychological battle to jenson button. and he did so because jenson was nice. that tall british rodent man (affectionate) showed up at mclaren and was kind and polite to his engineers and mechanics and lewis lost his fucking mind. tweeted out his telemetry. had a full twitter can't believe he unfollowed me i thought we were friends but i guess not meltdown only to realise that jenson never followed him in the first place. got so upset by the team having the audacity to like jenson that he spent an entire year driving into felipe massa. i don't think that would ever happen now, even when he lost to george he didn't give a fuck. but it is important to me that people know lewis has absolutely lost psychological battles before in situations when it was in no way personal. him losing the fight with nico was not just because they'd known each other since they were 12, it was also because lewis is paranoid as fuck and has a history of taking things incredibly personally

[bluebellhairpin]

Sandor Clegane X Fem!Reader

Summary: A Mouse and a Hound, sounds like the start of a bad joke. It only gets worse when one's been scarred by ice, the other by fire. Who would've guessed they'd help each other face their fears before one chooses to face death. (word count; 8.7K <)

Warnings: Canon-typical themes. Probaby a 'too soft'/ooc Sandor. Injuries + blood + scars. Character death. Fighting. Swearing. Sandor and Reader match each other's jealous freak. Sexual themes (Smut is implied but not shown + they talk about fucking a lot.). Borderline eloping. Pregnancy + food cravings (chicken). Reader is fem bodied + she/her pronouns + called woman/daughter/wife/mother + smaller than Sandor + nicknamed Mouse.

Listening to: 'I Bet on Losing Dogs' by Mitski - "I bet on losing dogs. I know they're losing and I'll pay for my place by the ring... I'll be there on their side, I'm losing by their side."

AO3 Link || Masterlist || Ko-Fi

Ice. It can be as thick as stone or thin like parchment paper. It can form as frost, snow, sleet and hail. Most often it covers lakes, rivers and the ocean in the cold weather of winter. Ice is water in its frozen, solid form. And right now you were standing on a giant lake covered in ice.

In the beginning it was so thick, covered in snow so well, that none of you even realised what it was you ran onto. With the weight of the wights swarming at your heels, though, it began to creak and groan.

The noise of the crack below your feet echoed in your mind. Nothing else mattered as you skid to a stop on shaky legs. Your eyes fixed on the slippery ice below, peripherals caught your group continuing to run away - to safety, thank the gods - and wights behind you fell into the water below, but strangely all you could see was your sister.

Her face floated beneath the ice, frozen in time in a place she wasn’t supposed to be, face dead from a time long ago. The wrights disappeared, the new shouts of your friends faded. You couldn’t look away. You’d spent so long trying not to remember what happened all those years ago, running from it, yet here you were.

No longer were you a woman grown battle-hard, but a girl who was foolish enough to ignore your parents warning to not play on the frozen lake. You’d brought your younger sister with you, so young and trusting, of course she’d believe her big sister wouldn’t lead her toward pain. You were supposed to protect her, love her, care for her. You’d see other children sliding around on the ice, so when your chores were done and the lake was void of others, you took your sister’s hand and told her you’d be able to play anything you both wanted without worrying about being knocked over by an older child.

Having the lake to yourselves was supposed to be fun.

It was the worst mistake you’d ever made in your whole life.

Winter was leaving. Although you were in the North, the ice was still thinning. No one else was there because they knew better. You didn’t know better. It took you both two laps before the ice cracked. One step was all it took to no longer support your weight. Your world was plunged into ice cold darkness. The freezing water hit your lungs, causing you to gasp on reflex. Your lungs filled with water, your eyes stung from the cold. You kicked and grasped for the surface, and reached it just before it was too late. Clawing at the ice, you pulled yourself to the thicker ice, coughing and shivering, thanking the Old Gods that you hadn’t drowned.

Then you noticed your sister was gone.

You sister whose hand you were holding. Who you dragged down with you after the ice cracked from your weight. Your weight, not hers. You couldn’t see her. She was so young. She couldn’t swim. It was all your fault.

You screamed her name. Screamed for help. Tears ran hot down your face. By the time help came the sun was fading, your throat was raw and your hands were sore, frozen and bloodied from pounding on the ice. You were shivering so hard your teeth felt like they’d crack. The people around you called your name. You couldn’t look away from the water.

They called your name again, and her face was all you could see below your feet.

Again, and she floated away. Down so deep no one could find her, not even when summer came again.

Again. Your name. Louder. Rougher. More desperate. You looked up from the ice. There was your group. Your friends. And Sandor Clegane. There was so much distance between you and yet you could see fear in his eyes like it was written on paper in your own hands.

Turning behind, you saw wights. Most had stopped still, but the ones closest to you were reaching toward you. Swiping and grasping at the air between you. They were so close. But so was the crack in the ice. It was the only thing dividing you from them - the only thing stopping them from coming closer, and the only thing stopping you from running to your friends. To Sandor.

Sandor had been your companion for so long, and now he wouldn't stop yelling at you to run. You’d run on ice before, it ended with your sister dead. He knew that. He was the only one who did - not Jon, not Tormund, no one else in the whole world had bared their fears to you like Sandor, so you hadn’t bared yours to them. Sandor knew why you couldn’t move, for you it was like the fire that rendered him useless, and yet.

“Come on you bitch, move!” he yelled.

Somehow his words hit you like a tonne of bricks. Your breathing picked up. You stopped listening to the ice. All you could hear was your heartbeat. All you could see was Sandor.

Your foot shifted, the ice groaned under your weight, it cracked behind you as you moved, but you ran. You weren’t even looking when you started running, keeping your eyes closed was the only way you could move at all. If Sandor’s face was the last thing you saw, so be it. You were sure that was going to be true.

Yet as your legs started the burn from how hard you ran, arms encased you. Frosted fur was under your fingertips, and your feet left the ground as your speed made you swing in the hold of whoever caught you. Your eyes opened and you sobbed. You did it. The ice didn’t crack. You made it to Sandor and you were safe. For now anyway, but that was all that mattered.

“You can slaughter wights, but ice is what gets you shaken up.” Sandor said as a cold calloused fingertip traced your jaw with a featherlight touch. “What a woman.”

“Don’t tease me.” you said between the chattering of your teeth. Funny, the cold hadn’t hit you until now.

“I ain’t teasing,” Sandor let you go slowly, as if pulling away would make you fall apart like broken glass. It mightn’t be a far truth with how much you were shaking. His voice was the softest you’d ever heard it. “I just didn’t believe you when you said you were afraid. While you may be quiet as a Mouse you’ve never been afraid like one, but the look on your face made me think you were gonna die.”

“Would you pick water over wine?” you said, “Of course I was scared. Felt like I was going to shit out my own heart.”

“Ah, now I see why the Hound likes you.” Tormund said, nodding with his arms crossed. “You sound just like him. Like a bitch. I like that.”

“Fuck off.” Both you and Sandor spoke at the same time. The contrast between how he growled and you shuddered was comical, but the fact you both said it at the same time made the others laugh despite your dire circumstances. Tormund could only look at you as if to say ‘told you so’.

You looked up at Sandor, he was already looking down at you. With the energy you had left, you could only resign to letting it be. They could say all they wanted about your fondness for him, and his for you. At the end of the day you could deny it all you wanted but it wouldn't make it less true. His arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling your shaking body to him as your group moved to the centre of the island you'd found yourselves on.

Now all you had left to do was hope the Dragon Queen Daenerys knew to come to your aid - because with the wights surrounding you, there was no way you were getting out of there on your own. Maybe it would've been better to have fallen into the lake.

There was a time when you were never so scared of ice - a feeling lost long ago to the passage of time. There was also a time when you didn’t know Sandor from a stranger on the street. You might never have met him at all if not for being in the right place at the right time.

You supposed the Starks were the cause of a lot of things in your lives.

You happened to be in Winterfell all those years ago when King Robert Baratheon visited Ned Stark. You were a messenger - one of the best - travelling all across the North had been your job over the few years prior. Ned insisted you stayed for the King’s feast before you left again, reasoning that your hard work needed to be rewarded now and then - beyond silver stags you were paid in.

So you joined the Starks to greet the King’s entourage, and that was where you saw Sandor Clegane for the first time. His eyes were hard and disinterested from under the dog helm he wore, and he was so large and imposing - but he was so quiet. The only words you ever heard him speak were when you’d come up behind him to offer to take the reins on his horse. He hadn’t heard you coming, and almost knocked you on your feet when you tapped his shoulder armour.

“Fucking mouse.” he’d said.

You however didn’t speak to him during that night at Winterfell, or at all during the days that followed, but you watched him. Saw him push away a mug of ale for a jug of wine. Watched as he ate, and watched as he walked away with Prince Joffrey. Really, it had taken a couple years to speak to him after you first met him.

Years after Robert Baratheon died, and Ned Stark was executed - you met him again. He was travelling with Arya near the kingsroad.

You’d spent the last few years working for Robb, King in the North. His father and mother had always trusted you to ferry messages and items all across the North, so he did too. You served faithfully until you took a message to the Bolton’s at the Dreadfort. Thereafter Ramsay Snow had taken you as a plaything, which had left you naked and alone in the woods one night with your back and shoulders torn to bloodied ribbons. A couple of farmers from the nearby Hornwood had found you, nursed you back to health - and with news that Robb was still at The Twins, you started travelling there as soon as your healing wounds allowed it.

News reached you of a justifiably dubbed Red Wedding, and the massacre that happened to the Stark army at The Twins. You knew you couldn’t go there anymore. It wasn’t safe there for you, and it wasn’t safe to go back North on your own either, not with the Bolton’s spiders crawling everywhere. So you went south. Aimlessly you followed the Kingsroad, and who else did you meet but a missing Stark daughter.

Arya had recognised you immediately. Your heart sang at the way her face lit up, and at seeing she was alive. She’d been lost after her father died, laying your eyes on her yourself was such a relief. Especially after hearing what the Frey’s did to Robb and Catelyn.

It took Sandor a moment longer. A few moments, actually. He’d dismounted his horse and watched you embrace Arya before giving a name to your face.

“Mouse,” he said. His face was hard to read, but you could see something in his eyes had changed since you last saw him shadowing Joffrey.

“Hound,” you replied. Apparently he didn’t like that. Sandor sneered down at you when he spoke again.

“Bitch.”

“Hey!” Arya said, turning from where she once held onto you. “She’s done nothing worth insults. Don’t call her that.”

“I can call her what I like - I’d bet money I don’t even have that she’s going to stop me from handing you in and getting my ransom.” Arya stepped forward as if to start arguing with the man before you set a hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t worry Arya,” you said, “he can spew insults all he likes. I can see the stick that's shoved up his arse, must be uncomfortable. He has my sympathies to do as he pleases with his words.” Your comment both made Arya burst into giggles and Sandor turn away to mumble to himself. You mounted your horse, and as Arya climbed on after you.

“I’ll let you ride with her only if you follow me like there’s a leash on your horse, understand?” Sandor asked, turning his horse to stand right in front of yours. His eyes were just as hard as they were all those years ago at Winterfell, but they were no longer disinterested. Instead he looked at you in a way that made you feel like he was going to eat you alive. “Unless I have to leash you like a bitch?”

“My back is aching from when a Bolton bastard set his dogs on me, I don’t have the strength to match your insults right now, Ser.” You said. Arya was quiet behind you, the only reaction she had to your words was loosening her grip on your waist.

“I’m not a knight.” Was the only thing Sandor said before urging his horse to walk.

He only ever called you Mouse after that.

Fire. From a forest burning to a candle flame, it can be the difference between death or life. It can heat your home or leave the air smelling thick of smoke and ash. It can help wounds heal or can be the cause of them. Fire is as dangerous as heat can get. And right now there was an entire moat-worth of fire surrounding Winterfell.

You knew that the attack of the Night King was going to be bad - you’d seen the wights firsthand, fought them already, and you’d seen a White Walker take down a whole dragon. The worst part, by far, was having to wait and not being able to see nothing of what was coming, nothing except the ice cold winds of an early winter. The dragonfire helped as the battle started - but it also didn’t. You wanted to see, but as soon as you did you wished you hadn’t.

The sight flashed in your mind like a flickering flame. Coming and going. Waves and hordes of wights as far as the eye could see.

Daenerys’ army and the other soldiers had retreated back into Winterfell’s walls. You stood beside Arya watching the wights get burnt by the flames. They already smelt like death - rot and dirt and cold flesh - now their bodies were thawing and burning, and the smell of charred skin and muscle was being carried high by the smoke. You’d never smelt flesh burn before. You wondered if this was the smell that haunted Sandor.

You turned to look down at the returned soldiers lined up in formation in the courtyard below, searching for Sandor’s face among the dozens of men. When you couldn’t find him you turned back around. What if he hadn’t made it back inside the gate?

The thought that crossed your mind then was so strange. You wished you were facing a thousand frozen lakes. If you were, Sandor would be right by your side the whole time. He had no fear of ice, not like you did. The fire before you had scared him away from your side, if he was still around at all - but you’d much rather fear eaten him alive than death. The realisation shook you. Even now the strongest, most fearless man you ever knew was gone. Because he was scared.

You had a second realisation then. That one made you step away from the wall you perched by with dread - not because the wight’s had figured out how to cross the flames, but because Sandor was probably all alone.

“Where are you going?” Arya asked, watching as you slowly started to move.

“I need to be down there,” you said, your hand grazed her shoulder as you walked past, “I’ll see you in the morning.” you promised. Turning on your heel, you rushed down the stairs, almost slipping on the last one, to reach the soldiers below and begin pushing through them to find Sandor’s face among them.

“Ready yourselves, they’re going to breach the wall!” Someone shouted behind you, but you were too focused on hunting down your Hound. Really, you almost went right past him. He was hiding in a doorway, and if you hadn’t locked eyes you would’ve lost him.

“What are you doing?” you asked, rushing forward. “We need you to help us fight Sandor.” you said. You pushed yourself up, trying to level your face with his own. His head shook, clearly disagreeing.

“It’s fucking useless. Death’s at our door, it’s all around us we can’t fight that.” He wasn’t looking at you. His eyes reflected the orange glow of fire. He wasn’t listening to you, he was listening to the fire. “There’s no point.”

“And death was below my feet yet you made me run from it - and I did run from it, for you!” You said, an emotion reaching your voice that you hadn’t let show yet. “Fuck everyone else, I need you Sandor. I need you to fight. I can’t do it without you.”

Sandor looked at you then. His dark eyes no longer held an orange glow, instead they flickered across your face, distracted. You read him, saw his brow furrow and lips part open - he was going to argue. But you weren’t going to have that. You swung an arm over his shoulders and pulled him down to crash his lips to yours. It was a hard kiss, one that lasted too long to be considered safe in your circumstances, but it was distracting. Grounding. You needed to bring Sandor out of his own mind, and a kiss was a nicer way to do it than a slap to the face.

“If you don’t live to see the end of this night I’m going to find that red witch to bring you back to life so I can kill you myself.” You said with a gasp, pulling away with a hand on your sword. He seemed dazed, yet you could tell he was indeed more focused. “I need you to stay alive,” you added as you backed away to join the fight, “when this is all over I want you to fuck me.”

You were bloodied and covered in dirt, somehow limping, your head hurt like seven hells and you couldn’t stop smelling smoke, but you were alive. Somehow you were alive. The thought made you want to cry.

Not knowing if the same could be said about Sandor did make you cry. Tears blurred your vision as you searched. Every body laid dead wasn’t him, but neither was anyone left standing. It felt like your heart was breaking.

You stumbled through each hallway and room until you reached the doors to the main hall. Who knew what was waiting for you beyond the doors. You refused to dwell on it, instead shouldering the heavy oak open. Your knees almost gave way when you saw Sandor standing beside Melisandre. You surged forward, very nearly jumping into his arms. One wrapped around your waist while the other cradled your head close to his own. If you weren’t so busy being relieved you might’ve teased him about going soft.

But really you didn’t care about that right now at all.

You pulled away, letting him hold your weight completely as you took his face in yours hands.

“You’re alive.” you breathed, smiling in disbelief.

“A mouse told me you needed me to stay alive.” Sandor said, lips quirked up in a rare smile, “Couldn’t let down my woman.”

You’d counted the losses, burned your dead, and now were celebrating those who’d stayed alive. The feast, in all honesty, was magnificently loud. You were sure the only reason you’d lasted this long was because the shock of being alive hadn’t worn off yet.

Tormund had ushered you over to his table of Wildlings, and you'd already decided that you were going to steal their jug of wine when you went back to Sandor. The Wildling leader had his arm slung over your shoulder, swaying on his feet as he told some story about his life beyond the Wall. You were sure his story was as gripping as it was daring, but you really weren’t paying him mind at all. Your eyes weren’t leaving Sandor, and his weren’t leaving you.

He was looking at you like someone crossed a horny dog with a jealous badger, the jealous part flaring whenever Tormand leaned closer to talk right in your ear. He was drunk, and you’d learnt he was quite harmless - Sandor however probably didn’t know that. For everyone’s sake you probably should find your way out from under Tormund’s arm. After all he had the other occupied with another woman, and his drink, both of which would see his night ended happily.

You’d barely looked away from Sandor to grab the wine jug, turning to make up some excuse to pry Tormund’s arm off you when the man interrupted your unspoken words.

“Look,” Tormund leant down once again, whispering loudly in your ear as if attempting to be subtle, “A dead woman!” He pointed behind you, and you turned to see that indeed there was a woman. One who had sat herself down in the seat next to Sandor. Your seat.

“Excuse me,” you said, pulling away with the jug heavy in one hand, slipping an unused dinner knife in your other.

“Watch this lads, you’ll wish she was your wife after this.” You heard Tormund announce to his table as you stalked away. The poor lady had no idea you were coming.

You stood behind them, quickly your hand passed between them both as you reached forward. The tip of your stolen knife narrowly missed where the woman’s hand rested on the table. She jumped in her seat, hand flinching away into her lap, and looked up at you with wide eyes.

“Seeing as you need your tongue to suck a cock, and you probably want to keep yours, I suggest you fuck off and try and weasel your way into someone else’s man’s trousers.” You pulled the knife away from where it jammed into the wood, and she scurried away. In the background you heard a group of men erupt in laughter as you pushed the wine before Sandor, taking up the seat by his side.

“I was handling that.” Sandor said, watching as you settled into a place by his side which was much closer than anyone else would be allowed.

“The fuck you were.” you replied, reaching for his empty cup and filling it. He moved his arm from where you’d squished it between your sides, instead now letting his hand rest on your waist.

“I was.” he disagreed.

“Do you want to get in my pussy tonight or do you want to keep arguing?” You swivelled in your seat to face him, tilting your head. You could tell he was about ready to give up, a smile playing on his lips.

“Both sound like a good time to me.” he said, pulling you a little closer as he spoke, but he relented. Who would’ve ever guessed that you’d be the one to get the great fearsome Hound to heel so nicely.

You could see Sansa slowly walking over, her eyes were on Sandor. She must’ve felt you looking at her because then she looked at you. The softness of her face made you smile, and as much as you’d loved to stay and spend time with her, you could tell there were things that needed to be said between her and Sandor.

Moving to stand, Sandor’s hand tightened its hold on you. Before you left you lent down to capture him in a kiss. Short and sweet, and tasting like wine, a hint of what was to come later.

“You know where my room is.” you said, having distracted him enough to now start to move away.

“I’d knock down every door if I didn’t.” He squeezed your hip one last time before letting you slip away.

Having been a friend of the Starks for so long, and having done so much for them had granted you your own room. No communal servant’s barracks for you. Your room though was still small, but it was yours. There was a lit hearth, a washbasin, and a good bed - they’d even given you a large rug to cover the parts of the floor that were left without furniture.

You stood staring at the bed. It was plenty big enough when there was just you, Sandor though was a much larger person. Where it might fit two of you, It might just be comfortable for one of him. You smiled though, since it meant you’d just have to stay close to him if he did stay the whole night with you.

You really hoped he would stay. Really you’d want him to stay with you forever, but that decision wasn’t yours to make. You could only wish he felt the same.

A knock on your door had your heart skipping a beat. You barely had to open it before Sandor came in and shut it behind him. You took a step back as he stepped in. His only move then was to take your cheek in the palm of his hand.

“You promised. Gonna live up to that?” he asked. You stepped forward, placing your hand over his while your other looped under his belt to pull him closer.

“I’ve wanted you for a long time,” you said, “and my mind’s never been changed. I want as much of you as you can give me.” Sandor looked down at you with a smile.

Before you could blink, he reached down and his arm wrapped around the back of your thighs. Your hands grasped his shoulders as he lifted you into the air, and his face was level with your chest. Your stomach was pressed to his chest, and by the gods the way he made you feel so small was almost inhuman. Though, the way it excited you was borderline heavenly.

“Careful what you wish for.”

Indeed you were right, the bed was just too small for the both of you to spread out comfortably.

You couldn’t really say you wanted to do that though. His skin was so warm, heartbeat so strong under our palm, and despite how sticky you both were with sweat, being so close to him felt so nice. It was like finally soaking into a hot bath - the relief and pleasure of it even now it was all over - it was like you needed him.

Floating in and out of sleep and awake while being wrapped in him under the furs of your bed was indeed what heaven must feel like.

Although it had you thinking in among your dazed and hazy pockets of sleep. How strange it was that Sandor seemed to feel the same way. He hadn’t let you so much as move to be by his side, let alone let you go.

He’d never been quite like this before - tolerated it from you, sure, but never recoperated to such an extent. It made you feel like something was wrong.

Your head raised from where it was tucked just below his burn scar, and you felt his arms shift to keep you close as you pulled back just enough to see his face clearly through the last light of the candles burning.

“Something is wrong.” you said. Sandor’s chest rose and fell beneath you in a sigh. So there was something he wasn’t telling you. His lips stayed sealed shut though, and you weren’t going to have that. “Sandor, tell me.” you whispered.

“I can’t stay,” he replied.

The way he spoke had genuine concern rising inside you, you’d never heard him talk like that before in your whole life - maybe he never even had until now. It wasn’t that you were worried about him leaving you, although the thought had you feeling so sad you could be angry, but instead you were filled with an awful amount of dread. It was like he was telling you he wasn’t coming back. Like he was dying.

“I want to but, fuck, I can’t. There’s something I have to do and no one else can do it for me.” That made you think back to all the times he confided in you about revenge. It hit you like a wall of stone - that he was leaving you to go kill his brother. Somehow he must’ve felt it land in your heart. A calloused hand ran up your back, lightly tracing your scars up to your shoulders, pushed you back down so your head rested next to his, body pressed flush to his own.

You felt like the only thing you could do was hold onto him tighter, sliding your hands in under his back and pressing yourself so close that your ribs might just open up and keep him there with you instead. But they weren’t, so instead you just let your tears fall.

“But you’ll die.” you whispered, lips tickled by the hair of his beard since you now refused to let him go.

“I know.” he said, and with the gentleness of a much smaller and kinder man, he turned his head and kissed the tears away from your cheeks. “Don’t cry. I’m not worth your tears.”

“No Sandor, you’re worth so much more than that. I’d give my life for yours. I can’t believe you can’t see it for yourself.” Your hands curled, fingernails digging into his skin. Sandor didn’t flinch, perhaps he saw the pain as a just punishment for cracking your heart in two, so you relented, instead pressing your nose into his neck. “I don’t know if I can live without you now.”

For what felt like a long time, he didn’t say a word. He let you cry some more, and didn’t once try to stop you, just held you as close and hard as you held him. Over his breathing, you heard the coals in the fire crackle one last time and fall into the soft ashes.

Your tears had stopped, and breathing turned shallow, when he spoke again.

“When I close my eyes for the last time I want to see your face,” he said. Under your chest, his heartbeat quickened. “The face of my wife.”

A moment passed.

“Are you asking me to marry you?” It took him longer to answer you, you thought perhaps you didn’t say it outloud.

“Does it sound like I am?”

You sat up, palms on his chest as he looked up at you with his hands gripping your hips and waist.

“Sort of? But right after you told me you’re going to fuck off and kill your cunt brother? Your timing is a bit shitty.” you asked. His hand squeezed your hip and his eyes fixed straight up onto the ceiling.

“It’s selfish, to marry you just to make you a widow, I know that but I think you know I’m not someone who thinks much of others.” You leant back over him then. Forearms framing his head as you brought your face over his.

“You do, you think of others often. I know your heart’s bigger than you realise - that’s why I’ll marry you.” The way his face changed when he heard your soft words from one of self-loathing to one full of love - all directed at you - made you wish you hadn’t spent so much time not sharing a bed. “We can do it tonight. We can wake the septa, no one else has to be there.”

“No, no Faith fuckers.” he responded gruffly before pausing, “Unless you want that?” He backtracked so fast it almost made you laugh. You shook your head though. You were from the North, if you believed in gods at all, the Seven weren’t yours.

“I’d rather go before the Old Gods -”

“- then we’ll do that.” Sandor cut you off. He sat up then, with you still placed nicely in his lap. The furs on your bed almost slid away, but he held them up to your shoulders so the cold night air didn’t reach you. “If we do it, we’ll fucking do it properly.”

You knew how foreign to proprietary Sandor was, it almost wasn’t even a word in his vocabulary. You’d thought about marrying him in the past, what that kind of life would be like. You’d imagined just running off someplace no one knew your names and saying you were husband and wife. Never once did an actual wedding cross your mind, yet here Sandor was offering it to you on a hastily prepared silver platter.

It made your heart ache in such a bittersweet way. Why did you both have to wait until it was almost too late?

There were very few people who you could think of to wake for a last minute wedding in the middle of the hour of the wolf. Night was at its darkest, people would be in the dead of sleep. Or that’s what you thought when you and Sandor carefully chose who you wanted most to be there.

Arya was the first person both you and Sandor could think of. She either wasn’t sleeping at all or was having a hard time doing so, because when you knocked on her door she was as awake as you were. The way her face lit up reminded you of when you first saw her after hearing about her brother and mother’s death.

She’d immediately thought of Sansa, as if you hadn’t already. You said Sandor was doing the same as you were with the elder Stark sister, so instead she offered to get Jon herself. As Warden of the North, and head of Winterfell, by right he was the only person who could properly officiate a marriage before the Old Gods. You barely gave her permission to go fetch him before she was off down the hallway to get him all on her own.

There was only one person left for you to get then.

By the time you’d reached the Godwood, there were a surprising amount of torches lined up and around the weirwood heart tree. It had seemed that while a lot of people in Winterfell had gone to bed, word had spread to those who had continued to stay up to celebrate or couldn’t sleep. Sandor and you only invited four people, yet there were at least a dozen torches, maybe more.

Arya and Sansa stood lining the short pathway you were to walk to reach Sandor near the base of the tree. On the other side you saw the faces of Brienne and Gendry. Among the more distant crowd there were people from across Winterfell, and the glint of a gold hand could be seen from the torchlight. Even Daenerys with her white hair had quietly joined with a content look on her face, and a torch in her hand just like everyone else.

You almost couldn’t believe that all those people were awake, yet thought this was worth leaving their beds for. But then you supposed rounding out a victory celebration with a wedding was a hell of a way to do it. Or for some an excuse to prolong their drinking and eating just that bit longer. Whatever the reason, you didn’t really care.

All you cared about was the man waiting for you below the white barked tree, and how badly you wished that this was under different circumstances - that he wasn’t doing it just because he was leaving you to die tomorrow.

"Who comes before the Old Gods on this night?" Said Jon. You had no family, at least none who could come to Winterfell so quickly. Jon was already occupied, so there was only one other person you could think of to drag out of bed to represent you at your wedding. And he was someone who’d probably never been to a Northern wedding once in his whole life.

In fact he was someone who thought you and Sandor were already married.

"A daughter of the North comes here.” Tormund said, he paused for a moment, swaying on his feet as he tried to remember the words Jon hastily tried to get him to memorise. “A woman, grown,” He finally started, “She comes to beg the blessing of the Gods to be wed. Who comes to claim her?" Sandor stepped forward, hands clasped together in front of his belt. He was refusing to look at anyone else but you.

“Sandor of House Clegane. Who gives her?"

"Tormund.” Tormund said, you could see from the way Jon’s eyebrows raised that he was expected to say more. “Giantsbane. Of the True North.” He added. Jon sighed as Arya snickered from where she stood to your right.

"Will you take this man?" Jon asked you. You looked up at Sandor, smiling as an overwhelming urge to cry rose inside you. You willed it down, wanting to keep on a facade that tonight was happy, and not the sweetest goodbye in the whole world.

"I take this man." you said.

You hadn’t seen Sandor in months. You couldn’t lie, you didn’t expect him to come back, both of you knew that a fight against Gregor Clegane was always one that ended in death.

News travelled fast about the destruction of Kings Landing. You hadn’t heard from him since then, there was really no other conclusion to come to except that he’d been part of the massacure. You desperately hoped that Gregor died too, that at least if you did lose Sandor it wasn’t in vain.

Despite that, you couldn’t bring yourself to accept it. So you ran. Weeks ago, you’d arrived at the Wall to meet with Tormund. Almost all the places that you called home were haunted by Sandor - you couldn’t stand to be there anymore. You couldn’t stand to be in the North, so you decided to go beyond. Somewhere where no one would know your name or his.

A land of ice and snow was better than having to stay where everything reminded you of him. If you stayed, you would’ve flung yourself off the tallest tower you could find - and that, you knew now, would’ve been counterintuitive to preserving what Sandor had left behind.

Most of those in Castle Black gave you a wide berth. You didn’t blame them, you weren’t really making yourself friendly. But one awkward conversation about what happened had Tormund acting almost like a guard dog. ‘Nothing could take down your man’ Tormund had said - you would’ve bet money that there were tears in your eyes when you replied ‘You’ve never met his brother’. It was good, having Tormund watching your back like that, since no one ever asked you what happened, but it was bad because no one ever asked you anything anymore.

Most of your days were spent on top of the Wall, waiting until the day you could leave with the Wildlings when they left to return to their home. Not many joined you up there. Tormund came at least once a day, ‘to make sure you haven’t fallen off’ - usually around dinnertime. Any other time meant something happened which he deemed worth your attention.

“A raven came.” Tormund said one day, “It’s from Winterfell.” You could see the crumpled paper in his hand over the fur of your cloak. You turned back to the ledge.

“I don’t want to read it.” Your arms crossed under your cloak, resting over your stomach.

“You should.” He said and stepped forward with his hand outstretched. You turned on your heel, almost coming nose to nose with the Wildling leader.

“Go. Away.” you hissed, bearing your teeth at him in a way akin to a cornered dog. He stared at you down his nose, watching as your eyes flickered over his face, and then as you turned away again.

Apparently though he wasn’t done.

“Jon’s coming.” He started again. You almost rolled your eyes - the man couldn’t leave anything alone. You just hoped this wasn’t the raven that brought the message of Sandor’s death. “Since you’re going to be a bitch about it, you can find out the rest when he arrives.”

In a way you supposed that was good news. At the very least laying eyes on Jon would be a familiar comfort. Having him tell you to your face that your husband died could be considered a mercy.

After having spent time at this exact castle a few years ago after the first time you thought Sandor died, it was almost unfit for Jon to not be here. He helped you a lot the first time, maybe he could do it again. Although this time you weren’t sticking around, and this time you had a little more than just yourself to take care of.

Behind you, Tormund sounded like he was beginning to leave when he stopped again.

“And you should come down. Food’s almost ready, you need to eat.” he said.

“I’m not hungry.” you called over your shoulder.

“I’m not telling you to eat for your own sake,” he replied. You looked back at him, and he raised his eyebrows in expectation.

Tormund, somehow, knew about your condition before you realised yourself. You hadn’t had your blood in months, longer than the last time you saw Sandor, and in the beginning you didn’t think much of it. Sometimes you missed it completely, especially considering everything you’d been through. You reasoned the grief alone would be enough. Tormund thought differently.

When you asked him how he knew - which he brought up while supervising you eating on one of the first night’s you arrived at Castle Black - he gestured to your chest, talking about how they looked different, like those of a woman who's going to have a babe.

He was lucky he moved so fast, otherwise the knife you threw at him would’ve ended in his shoulder and not the wall.

Regardless, it made you think. All evidence pointed to it being a possibility, and as the days turned to weeks with no blood, your unwell feeling seemed less like mourning and more like sickness. Now, apparently, your unborn child had become your weakest point. Tormund could use it to make you do just about anything he wanted - which mostly was making you eat and sleep closer to a normal person than you would’ve liked.

So you sighed with one more longing glance beyond the Wall.

“Fine,” you said, “let’s go eat.”

Not two weeks later, and you were atop the Wall again. That day was particularly cold, even the little fire you stood next to wasn’t helping keep you warm. Your teeth chattered, and you cursed the wind, but you didn’t go back down to the castle.

The sun was barely seen in the sky through the clouds, but you could tell it was only midday when you heard the telltale noises of footsteps trekking in your direction. They didn’t sound like Tormund’s, so you didn’t hold back your bite when called out to them.

“Come another step closer and I’ll shove one of these burning logs right up your arse.” you said, refusing to turn around, shoving your hands under your arms to help stop the cold reaching your fingers. “Tormund can go fuck his horse. I’m not falling for it again, if Jon’s here he can come see me himself.”

“That’s a ‘fuck you’ of a welcome if I’ve ever heard one.” That voice. You knew it. Your head whipped around so fast you could have broken your own neck. “I don’t know what else I expected though.” You were dreaming, surely. There was no way Sandor was standing before you.

“I’ve gone mad.” you whispered, unblinking in case closing your eyes for a moment would make him disappear. “You died.”

“I didn’t.” He slowly stepped forward, snow crunching under his feet, and he came to a stop just before the step up to the ledge you stood on. Your face was almost level with his now. Gods, his face was more worn than you remembered, but he sure looked real. “My wife needs me to be alive. So I lived.”

Your hand reached out to his face, tracing the lines of his scar and the edge of his beard. His hand reached out to grab your wrist, head turning so he could kiss your palm. His eyes closed for a moment as your skin touched his, and when his eyes opened again it was like a shot went through your heart. He really was here.

“You really are alive.” you breathed. He smiled, oh how you missed the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled at you. The sight brought a smile to your own face, something you hadn’t done since you last saw him.

“If I’m not, this is the best death a man could ask for.” he said, and his hand snaked under your cloak and found its place right on your hip - where it belonged. You other hand moved to the other side of his face, cradling it in your hold so you could take in every line, scar, and hair.

“No, Sandor Clegane,” you said, near close to tears in relief to have him back, “you’re as alive now as the day I first met you.” With a gentleness like the kind he showed on your last night together, he leant forward and kissed you. He was so warm, you’d missed it so much more having thought you’d never get a chance to feel it again. Your arms wrapped around his neck, and you almost drowned in the moment of finally holding him again.

You barely moved away when the kiss broke, too caught up in having him back to want to pull away completely. It was a shiver that brought you back to earth, one that came from you, and one that had Sandor frowning.

“You shouldn’t be out in the cold.” he said, tucking you in under his arm and pulling you away from the ledge and back toward the elevator, “You hate the cold. Makes me wonder why you were going to go out there in the first place.”

“It’s about the only place this side of the Narrow Sea that I thought wouldn’t remind me so much of you that I’d be sick.” The hand that rested on your shoulder squeezed knowingly. Your own hand reached out from under your cloak and took hold of his fingers. You doubted you wouldn’t be able to physically let go of him for a while.

“Guess that’s not a problem anymore.”

“Fuck no,” you scoffed, turning to him as he pushed open the elevator door for you, “I’m dragging you to Dorne after this so I can thaw out.”

“You don’t like the heat either.” His fingers stayed grasped on yours as he guided you through the door first. Somehow his large hand hadn’t been bitten by the cold yet, and his palm felt so warm against your frozen fingertips. His warmth made you smile, it was more proof that he was really standing before you.

“I don’t care,” you said, smiling up at him, “I won’t care as long as I’m with you.”

“Chicken?” Sandor asked. “You don’t like chicken.”

You looked across at him from where you sat in Castle Black’s dining hall. You were currently sucking a chicken bone clean of its cooked flesh, and you shrugged at his almost confused way of frowning at you. In the past it might have been true - you preferred more iron-rich meats, which often left the chicken all for Sandor - but not anymore. You’d even stolen some off his plate.

“I do now.” you said, licking at your fingers. “Your child has been having a powerful influence over me already. Unfortunately it’s one of the few things I can stomach right now.”

“Child?”

“You didn’t notice?” You sat back, pushing your cloak aside purposefully to reveal your stomach, showing it off a little - as if there was even anything to show yet. “I think I’ve even started getting bigger.”

“Big?” Sandor scoffed, sitting back in his seat but still eyeing you wearily, ”You’re pulling my dick if you think I’d notice. Everyone’s small to me, no matter how ‘big’ they think they are.”

“You’re so mean to me. The mother of your child -”

“For fucks sake.” he mumbled. His eyes rolled, and a hand came up to run over his face when you started talking again.

“- You ought to be nice to me, I’ve been mourning you a long time, and looking after your child all on my lonesome.”

“Excuse me. Liar!” Tormund stood abruptly behind you, causing you to jolt in your seat as his own scraped against the stone floor. “I’ve been keeping you fed! The Hound will have no choice but to like me for keeping his woman healthy for his return.” He spoke proudly, coming to your side and resting a hand on the table near your plate.

“Fuck off.” Both you and Sandor said. You weren’t happy about him coming near your food, and Sandor was just unhappy with Tormund around.

The contrast between how you growled it out and how his voice was more of a mumble made Tormund bark out a laugh. The switch in personalities was comical, even you could see it. It reminded you of a similar time, one where the stakes were more deadly than just losing food, but felt no less homely because you had Sandor by your side then just as you do now.

The look Tormund sent your way was knowing, almost loving in a way that was as inconspicuous as your hulking personality of a husband allowed. Nevertheless his hands raised in surrender, and he stepped away as he sent a wink toward Sandor.

With the Wildling gone, you turned back to Sandor. He was already looking at you. If anyone didn’t know him like you did they might’ve thought he was so deep in thought that he was looking right through you - but you knew better. He was looking right into you instead. Deep into your soul that he might as well have laid you bare and be picking you apart.

“You’re having a child?” he finally asked. So that’s what he was trying to figure out.

“I’m having your child.” You bowed your head, keeping eye contact, pointing to him with a bare bone as you switched to another as you spoke. He leaned forward, tilting his own head ever so slightly.

“You sure it’s mine?”

“Are you fucking serious?” Now was your turn to scoff, food forgotten, and you leant forward so your heads were even closer. So close you could almost whisper and still be heard. “The only person I’ve been with in the last five years is you.”

Sandor smiled then. An almost-full, genuine-looking smile. His next words were softly spoken, almost proud.

“So you’re gonna be a mother,” he said. It made you want to lean even closer and kiss him senseless.

“And you’re gonna be a father.” you replied. He reverted back to that deep stare, an almost dopey, soft look in his eyes now. It took a few quiet breaths before he talked again.

“We’re gonna be a family.”

“We already are.” Sandor had a small gentle smile, one you realised was reserved only for you. It made you all soft and gooey inside. You couldn’t help it, he was asking for it. You had to kiss him now.

taglist: @anxiety-made

[too-deviant]

jackie and wilson.

previous | next masterlist.

pairing: luke castellan x unclaimed!reader

summary: you haven't been given a quest, but you have made it your personal mission to make luke castellan smile

word count: 6.2k

content: very juicy chapter. is all im gonnna say.

notes: i cant stay mad at my otps i fear

PART IV — better yet, she wouldn’t care 

“If I have to hear one more handjob joke, I’m gonna lose it. So please tell me you have good news.” 

Lee Fletcher’s dark blue eyes flitted up to yours, his lashes tickling just under his eyebrow when he did. His hands were fiddling with the bandage that wrapped around your hand, but they slowed when you spoke, “Bare with me, newbie.”

You sighed deeply, fighting the urge to fall back onto the cot that you were sitting on — you’d had the stupid bandage wrapped around your hand and wrist for what felt like eternity, but was really only five days. You should be thankful, really, since the last time you’d broken your wrist you’d been walking around with a thick blue cast on for a month, but you couldn’t help but be a little peeved. Capture the flag was today, and you hadn’t trained nearly as much as the others had due to your injury — when you probably should’ve been training twice as much, only because you were new and unfamiliar with the game. 

It was their fault for hyping it up; if they had just shut up about it, you wouldn’t have been as excited about taking part, broken wrist or not. But alas, demigods were barbarians — barbarians who thirsted to beat each other up in a controlled battle. Barbarians who didn’t have any regard for the new camper when they were climbing all over each other to see the freshly posted team setup, and trampled all over their perfectly good wrist. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t have been standing right in front of the notice board.” Luke had been saying all week. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t have asked me to accompany you there, then.” You replied every time. 

Lee narrowed his gaze, flipping your hand around carefully in his, kneading at curtain parts of your skin while checking you for reactions. When you showcased nothing but annoyance at your own shit luck, he leaned back with a cheeky smile, “Well, it’s looking good. I don’t think you need this anymore.” 

He lifted up the knot of bandage he’d removed from your hand and threw it with perfect precision into the trash can on the other side of the room, before turning and grinning at you. You couldn’t help but grin back, “You’re the best.” 

“I’m told.” He shrugged, feigning a humble demeanour. You stood, and he did so with you, looking at you pointedly, “But you should still take it easy today. It’s your first game, and you’ve been here for a week. Nobody is gonna judge you for stepping back today.” 

You scoffed, rolling your newly healed wrist around with a small smile, “I’m not stepping back for shit, Fletcher. I’m beating the hell out of Chris Rodriguez.”

“He’s on your team.” 

“I don’t care.” You rebutted. Lee rolled his eyes, but ultimately let you off with a wave. “See you later!” 

The past five days had been fairly tame. When the team setup was posted on Sunday afternoon, everyone went immediately into prep mode for the game. You knew they took it seriously, but you didn’t realise how seriously they did until you found yourself being pulled out of your sleeping bag at five in the morning so you could get a headstart on training with Luke. Although you didn’t see the relevance — after you’d broken your wrist, the boy hadn’t even let you look at a spear, so you woke up at the asscrack of dawn to…sit around and watch him train. 

Thankfully, Hermes had paired up with Ares for once, and Clarisse wasn’t letting you off easily. Whenever she could, she was dragging you to the arena and teaching you how to fight one-handed. So you were more than ready, skipping down the infirmary steps with an easy smile. 

“I think I see you here more than I see you anywhere else.” 

You paused, looking up and spotting Evan, leaning gently on the porch railing. You rounded the steps and stopped in front of him, “Hey. I’ve only been here twice.”

“In…” He checked his imaginary watch, “One week. That’s gotta be a record.”

You narrowed your eyes jokingly, “Okay. I’m still learning, leave me alone.” 

“We’ll see how much you’ve learnt later today.” He quipped, running a hand through his hair. He smirked at you, “Good luck.” 

“Thanks.” You slid out, sarcasm evident in your tone. He laughed, and you smiled, rolling your eyes. 

“Come on, clumsy. Let’s get to training.” He began to walk off, and you followed, presumably to where the Hermes team were gathering for last minute preparations. 

For this game, they’d paired up with Ares and Athena, Apollo taking lead for the blue team with Hephaestus and Aphrodite. Red team also had Demeter, and the boys of cabin twelve were on the blue team. It seemed like a pretty good split; or at least you thought it was, judging by the reactions of everyone when they read the pamphlet. You might have been reading it wrong, though. After all, you were crying out in pain and cradling a shattered wrist when it happened. 

Athena was always a good cabin to pair up with, was what Evie had told you when she was taking your measurements for armour. You presumed so, goddess of war and all. But you were a little wary about the Cabin Ten girls — Aphrodite was also a warrior goddess, after all. 

Evan led you around the back of the pegasi stables and through a mudded path. The only reason you hadn’t taken off running in fear that he was leading you to your imminent death was because the wood nymphs were out and about, milling around like bodyguards. They eyed you up at first, but a few of them recognised you from your impromptu baseball session with Luke last week and told them to back off. 

“Here she is, the woman of the hour!” Clarisse exclaimed when she saw you break through the trees. A few people glanced back and smiled at you politely, a sentiment you returned as Evan led you to the front of the crowd where she stood. 

Luke was beside her, and only nodded at you. You nodded back, a glimmer in your eyes that made his hands twitch. 

“Okay, now that our whole team is in attendance, we can begin.” The Ares girl said, conviction prominent in her voice. She was made to lead, that much was obvious. “You all know the deal. I won’t repeat it, not with the blue team so close by, but…” She sent a meaningful look around the whole crew, “You know where to go. We’ve been practising this, and in a couple of hours it’ll be time to bring home yet another win.”

“It’s pretty much all in the cards for us.” Luke cropped himself into the speech, “Cabin Nine have their special machinery but we’ve got wit, power and numbers. We’ll be fine.” 

“Speaking of cabin nine.” Clarisse hopped down from the wooden crate she was standing on, “I grabbed this from them just before the teams went up. Had to make sure they didn’t sabotage it.”

She pulled a long spear out from behind some other boxes, and let it shimmer in the light. It was beautiful, and you couldn’t keep your eyes away from it. Despite it being made from celestial bronze, the forger had clearly done something to make it shine a mesmerising silver. You could see your reflection in it as it glistened under the sun. It was double ended and if you squinted, you could see tiny spikes coiling around the first ten or so inches of each end. The shaft was smooth and engraved with something you could only make out when she walked over and handed it to you. 

“Wait.” You took it out of instinct, weighing it in both hands but giving a shocked look to Clarisse, “This is mine?” 

“You’re damn right.” She smirked, “Jake was having a field day making that thing, couldn’t stop talking about it. Especially when he added these,” She poked one of the spikes that coiled around the shaft and rubbed the tips of her fingers together with a wince, “They’re lethal. You’ll be unbeatable out there with this thing.” 

“Cool.” You gave it an experimental swing, and everyone in your vicinity took a long step back. You shrugged, smiling anyway, “Whoops.” 

You felt very powerful with your new weapon, and now that you had it in your hands, you could marvel at the engravings. They were images, battles fought — a lot of them recognisable. There was Perseus killing Phineus and Polydectes with Medusa’s head, Heracles and the Nemean Lion. There was even an engraving of Tantalus stealing the ambrosia and nectar from Olympus, for some reason. You’d have to ask Jake about that later. 

“We have two hours until we need to gather at the pavilion, so we won’t bore you with details.” A young girl who you’d seen around camp before stood up and addressed the crowd. She was very little, but she exuded authority even at her young age. “But if I see you lazing around, I’ll put my dagger through your foot.”

There was a chorus of nods and murmured agreement, so the little girl stepped back and nodded at Luke, who told them all to go get ready. The crowd dispersed, but you stayed firmly put as the boy made his way over to you, the little girl following behind him. 

“Sunny.” He tried not to smile, but you saw his lips twitch. He gestured to the girl beside him, “This is my little sister Annabeth. Newly appointed Counselor of Athena.”

You raised a brow, impressed, before looking down at the girl with a smile, “Hey, Annabeth.” You introduced yourself, trying not to show her how kind of scared you were for her to not like you. 

Luckily she nodded, “Hi. You better be good with that spear.”

“I’d like to think I am.” You joked. She didn’t laugh, simply telling Luke she was going to brainstorm and left you both alone in the clearing you’d been gathered in. You raised your brows at him, “I think she gets her stoic indifference from you.” 

He cracked a smile then, grabbing your spear from you and weighing it in his own hands, “Yeah. She’s a firecracker.” He looked at you firmly, “Think you’ll be good for this game? It’s not too late to back out.”

You snatched the weapon right back from him, rubbing his finger prints from the shaft with your sleeve and sending him a half-glare, “You just want an excuse to use this instead of me. I’m fine, JoJo.”

He raised a single brow, “Fine. But if you end up back in the infirmary, I’m not gonna kiss your wounds better.”

You smirked, backing away and pointing your free finger at him daringly, “You wouldn’t be able to hold back.”

He laughed, hand on heart, “Right.” 

You were quick to retreat to the Arena where you knew Clarisse was waiting for you. A good chance to break in the new armoury and swing a spear around that wasn’t made of styrofoam or rotten wood. You caught yourself a good sweat in an hour and a half, and Clarisse was covered in bloody dots from those spikes. Even if you were injured, they still didn’t stand a chance against those. It was a comforting thought. 

You would’ve practised the whole time had it not started raining — something that confused you greatly since the camp had a controlled climate. Clarisse just rolled her eyes, though, claiming that Chiron was upping the dramatics for the game. You were unsure that the centaur could just…make it rain, but you went along with it. You’d only been a demigod for a week after all. 

Not wanting to be completely soaked by the time the game started, you retreated back to the Hermes cabin, shortening your spear down with a click and tucking it into your belt loop before you sat down. You were still on the floor, still next to the six year-old who almost always rolled on top of you in the night — you had now perfected your rollover technique to get him off you without waking him up. 

You were re-lacing your combat boots when two shadows loomed over either side of you. Without so much as a glance away from your foot, you said plainly, “Stolls. What do you want?”

A twin pair of scoffs sounded and you just rolled your eyes. The one on the left spoke first, and you thought it might have been Travis, “Bold to assume we want anything.” 

“I mean, we do.” Connor added from your right, and the indisputable sound of a hard slap came right after. “Ow! Asshole.”

“Cut to it.” You moved onto your other shoe now that the left one was wound tight. You were always pretty speedy at tying laces, a fairly random skill but a skill nonetheless. 

“Well…” Connor started. 

“Luke put us on second offence.” Travis continued. 

“But we sorta hate doing second offence.” 

“Yeah, it’s way too much work.”

Connor leaned over your shoulder so his stupid grin was visible in your peripheral vision, “And we heard that you are on side offence. Which has a much lower maiming risk.”

“So you wanna swap spots?” You deducted, looking up from your feet and giving them a blank glance. They nodded, and you sighed, “Ok, first of all, there’s two of you and one of me. You’ll have to find someone else to swap with too.”

“Already done.” Travis nodded, “Sabine loves second offence.”

“Second of all,” You sent them firm looks, “Luke isn’t going to let you change the layout right before the game. Neither is Clarisse and neither is Annabeth.”

“Which is why we aren’t telling them.” Connor said like it was obvious, holding out his hands like he’d presented you with the best idea ever conjured, “Luke and Clarisse are on first offence and Annabeth is on last defence, right by the flag. No one will know.”

“Plus,” Travis sang, wiggling his eyebrows, “This is a perfect opportunity to prove to everyone how badass you are.”

“Yeah, Luke’s had you on a leash since you hurt your wrist.” Connor raised a teasing brow, “Why not show him what you’re made of?” 

You looked between them, and the silence that stretched seemed to serve as an answer because they were smirking at you and pushing themselves up and out of the door before you could utter a word. 

The rain hadn’t settled — Chiron and his dramatics, although it appeared Mr D wasn’t too much of a fan. God or not, he still got wet with the rest of them. You stood between Luke and Clarisse, the former shielding both your heads with his black jacket — Annabeth ended up squeezing between the two of you when she couldn’t keep up with her I’m too good to hide from the rain facade. You took it as a win, she was warming up to you! 

“Welcome to our first capture the flag of the summer!” Chiron bellowed, pausing for the cheers that resounded. “The usual rules are enforced. Magic weapons are permitted, the flag must be prominently presented with no more than two guards no less than ten yards from the flag! No killing or maiming, and no gagging or bounding of prisoners. Let the games begin!” 

There was a loud echo of cheers and battle cries as the first conch sounded — they only had twenty minutes to get into position and then they would be permitted to cross the creek into enemy territory. Annabeth was quick to gather up the flag guards and send them off to their agreed location with nothing but a sharp eye before she was pulling together the defensive lines and sending them off too.

“Hey.” Just before you could walk off, Luke grabbed your attention, levelling his eyes with yours as best as he could from under his helmet. He adjusted yours and patted your shoulders, “You got this, Sunny.”

You nodded, “Damn right I do.” 

It was hard to navigate the woods in the rain, which was still pouring almost torrentially over them. The forest floor had grown slippery and wet with the new downpour, but the campers traipsed through it roughly, boots squelching as they moved. You followed the side defence through mud and grass, dodging branches and puddles until you couldn’t hear the chatter of Luke and Clarisse from behind you. Then you stopped, and just ahead of you, Sabine did the same. 

It wasn’t long before Connor and Travis were pushing through the trees and greeting the pair of you with wide grins. Sabine rolled her eyes, “Shove off, punks.”

Then she was storming in the direction they came from, and you had no choice but to follow. It was hard to keep up with her long strides, but whenever you lost her in the fog you just followed the sound of her annoyed mutters. 

“Stupid kids. Can’t be trusted on last offence let alone second. It’s not fair. I punch one kid for cheating and Luke sends me to side defence. Side! Stupid punk has been out of it for too long, needs a reality check.”

You didn’t bother responding — whether you were going to agree or come to Luke’s defence, you had no idea. You just followed her to the edge where the second offence was lined up just past the edge of the shore. Evie and Evan gave you the same confused look. 

“Those Stoll fuckers wanted an easy out.” Sabine spat, pushing a stray curl back under her helmet and heaving her giant club over her shoulder. 

The twins didn’t question or fight the decision, simply shrugging and going back to where they were tracing their own tic tac toe game into the wet sand. You stood idly, hands fiddling with your belt buckle before the second conch sounded. Almost immediately did the first and side offences cross the creek and disappear into the woods, while you pulled your spear from the ground and followed the twins and Sabine across the water moments after they were gone. 

Then it was a waiting game. 

“Fuck Apollo, Marry Athena and Kill Hermes.” 

Evie scoffed, shaking her head, “No. No way. Athena would be way controlling as a wife, you gotta bag Apollo.” 

Sabine hummed, “No. I think Athena and I would be unstoppable together.”

You looked up from your shoes and between the three that stood before you. It had been two hours and the most action you had was seeing one of your own teammates get flung right back over the creek by some cabin nine contraption that you were not too keen on meeting. Your spear rested across the back of your shoulders, your arms swung around the shaft at either side as you contemplated your own answer. 

“No, see —“ You huffed, “I couldn’t marry Athena, but only because she conjures babies with her brain. I could never win an argument, I know that for sure.”

“But we all agree on killing Hermes, right?” Evan butted in with a laugh that was immediately shared by the rest of them. He settled down and squinted for a moment, “Ok. Fuck, Marry, Kill. Iris, Nemesis and…Hypnos.” 

There was immediate discourse, everyone speaking up at once with their own opinions. Sabine thought Hypnos would be a terrible lay — He’d fall asleep halfway through! — but Iris would be overbearing as a wife. Evie said Nemesis would be the best wife, she’d never let anyone hurt you, and you were just about to add on that Iris could let you eavesdrop on other people’s conversations whenever you were bored when a loud crack echoed through the trees. 

Then it was quiet. You all shared silent looks, baring your weapons and facing the enemy side. 

Another crack, a snap of a twig. Then a crash, like something being dropped onto a pile of leaves. 

A scream, and a manic son of Aphrodite breaking through the trees and aiming a large Kopis at Evan, who was quick to defend with his dual wielding swords. His teammates followed, and the rest of you jumped into action — you were only slightly panicked when you realised your opponent was a Hephaestus kid who was nearly double your height. 

You’d seen him around sometimes, he was only a year or so younger than you. Same age as Clarisse, and definitely the same level of skill in battle. What made him even scarier was that he fought with nunchucks…fucking nunchucks! And he was good with them, too. 

But you had been taught well. You were quick to defend your body and use both ends of your spear to deflect each nunchuck from making contact. At one point, he clipped your arm pretty hard, and that was when you realised they were ribbed along the edges making for a harder hit. You bounced back though, swinging every which way and not letting him touch you again. 

Briefly, you could hear your peers’ own battles. There weren’t any shouts of pain, or cries for help, so you put all your focus on the boy before you. He had a height advantage, and swung his weapon down on you fairly often, which left your torso open when you held your spear over your head. But your reflexes were like lightning, and no matter how hard he tried he just couldn’t land that second hit. 

Fuelled by his own frustration, he lunged forward and tried to wrap the chain of his chucks around the shaft of your spear. He attempted to no avail a couple of times, but then he clicked a button on one of the shafts and released a crackle of energy along it. You were shocked momentarily by the reveal of his electric nunchucks that you faltered in your defence and he managed to wrangle your weapon in his own on the third try. You pulled back hard, trying to regain control and prevent his disarm, but he just pressed that damn button again and this time the volts ran through his chain and up the entire length of your spear. 

The crack that resounded was huge. Too huge to have come from those tiny nunchucks.  

Where you were expecting a sudden and painful shock through your hand and arms you instead felt a massive give. You stumbled back, shocked, but regained your footing before you could fall onto the wet ground. Your spear was in your hands, and the nunchucks were still wrapped tightly around the middle. You looked up from them to see their owner crumbled in a heap on the ground, nursing his painfully red hands while the rainfall soaked his clothes even more. 

You’d completely forgotten you weren’t alone until one of his teammates dropped their shield and ran to his aid. You looked up, expecting to meet the dumbstruck eyes of Evie and Evan, only to see their gazes fixed elsewhere. You turned your head. 

There in the grass was a giant streak of black, stretching along the shore for nearly five metres. It took a second for you to realise that it was embers — the ground had been burnt completely from where you stood to where it ended. And standing just before it was Luke and Clarisse — the blue team's flag in hand. They weren’t moving, they were staring at the burn in the floor, at you.

Your chin wobbled a little until the echo of the other team reached your ears. You looked at the pair urgently, “Move!”

And they did. Even when the blue team kids you’d been fighting  before tried to stop them, they were held back and Luke and Clarisse led your team to an easy victory. 

They cheered, and the conch sounded. Chiron emerged through the wood and smiled at them in congratulations — the whole spark debacle was nearly forgotten, campers too busy either cheering or groaning to notice the burn streak on the floor. Chiron did, though, and soon though the short lived celebration quieted down as he asked about it. 

Eyes turned to you. You shrugged, “I don’t…I don’t know what happened, it just —“

But then there were gasps. All around you. And suddenly Chiron wasn’t looking at you, he was looking at the space above your head. And then so was everyone else. 

When you looked up, squinting past the rain, and your eyes fixated on that glowing lighting bolt that floated above your head, the world went quiet. A week of hearing everything about the glory of being claimed — how at ease you would be, how reassured you would end up. None of it was true. Because for some reason, the symbol that hung above your head sent nothing but trepidation running through you. 

You almost missed Chiron's next words,  

“Zeus. Law Maker. Striker of Lightning. King of Olympus. All hail.” He shouted your name, but it didn’t feel right in your ears, “Daughter of the Sky God.”

When you couldn’t stand the sight of it — when it started to make you feel sick, when the picturesque summer camp you were finally finding yourself in started to feel tight and uncomfortable, you looked down. Everyone was kneeling, eyes on the ground. It was comforting that they weren’t staring at you anymore, but when you searched the crowd for those baby brows that held you down, they were fixated firmly on the mud. 

After your claiming, Chiron dismissed everyone sharply. They left, all talk about the capture the flag win long left behind and replaced by canards about you and your family. Your lineage. You were very prepared to stand frozen on the other side of the creek for the rest of the day but the centaur ushered you into his office in the big house just as the rain stopped. 

The next hour was a muffled blur. You felt as if you had just been plunged underwater and all you could hear was your heartbeat in your ears — you vaguely registered Chiron and Mr. D asking you a load of questions about your childhood and whether there were any signs of your parentage along the way. You couldn’t answer that. 

They Iris-Messaged your mother — who was in her office and jumped up startled when the call came through. You might have been in a hazy funk, but you could tell the surprise on her face when Chiron informed her of your claiming was genuine. She’d had no idea. That, out of all things, angered you the most. 

“This new information will have caused quite a stir in Olympus.” Was one of the last things he said, “But you should be fine, since you’re seventeen.”

“Why does me being seventeen mean anything?” 

Zeus’ Cabin was subpar to say the least. Alright if you’re only going in there to worship the guy, not so alright if you’re planning on living there. There weren’t any beds, but there were alcoves lining the walls that you tucked your sleeping bag into so you didn’t have to look at the giant statue of Zeus that stood at the end of the room. For good measure, you chucked a spare blanket over its head — he could smite you for it, you didn’t really care anymore. 

You zoned back into reality when a knock sounded on your door, and you realised it was nightfall. Dinner time. You stood from your perch on one of the many benches that sat in the room — you thought they’d have better use in the pavilion, where Hermes kids were practically falling off the benches there were so little of them — and headed over to the huge double doors, heaving one open and breathing deep at the workout it took just to see who was at the door. 

It was Evie, and for some reason that made a pit of disappointment form in your gut. You sent her a weak smile nonetheless, “Hi.”

She smiled back, full of pity, “Hey. Just thought I’d come check on you, we haven’t seen you in hours.”

“I didn’t like them staring at me.” You said plainly, stepping out into the open air. The rain had stopped now, the sky clear, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes. 

“Yeah, I get that.” Was her heartfelt reply. You felt bad for being so plain with her, but there was really only one person you wanted to see, “But, um, it’s dinner right about now. Wanna…come with?”

You didn’t really wanna, but you were starving and almost certain that nobody would be bringing you any food, so you shrugged, “Sure.” 

The large door shut on its own when you stepped away from it, and Evie jumped at the sound. You folded your arms and walked alongside her in silence until you were forced to part at the pavilion. She tried to say something — maybe a goodbye, a good luck. Maybe a we can’t be friends anymore because you’re forbidden. You didn’t stick around to check, walking over to the empty Zeus table where you unfortunately belonged. 

You filled your plate, hungry from the workout of capture the flag and exhaustion from the day, but your appetite was ruined when you saw Luke walk in and avoid your eyes completely in favour of sitting at his usual spot at the Hermes table. You hadn’t seen him all day, he hadn’t seen you, and yet here he was; ignoring your existence like he used to. It sort of hurt. 

So you dropped your fork, leaned your elbows on the untouched wood and stared at nothing. Only hours earlier were you at the top of your game, happy and ready to use your skills in capture the flag, show your friends what you could do. Now? You were completely alone, completely miserable, and completely ready to go back to Vermont. 

You wanted nothing more than to climb into your bed and cry. 

People started to stand. Heading in the direction of the campfire that you were definitely going to skip. Some Hermes kids stood, Luke included, and started a slow stroll down there too, past your table and down the hill. Chris was talking animatedly to his friends on either side of him, but Luke didn’t look very happy with whatever it was he was saying. Before you could build up the courage to call out for him, beg him to look you in the eyes and still stay your friend, he was shoving Chris roughly, the boy falling into your table with a grunt. 

“What the hell, man?” He sneered, brushing himself off. Luke just glared. He scoffed, “You’ve changed, bro. And not for the better.”

Then he was walking off in a huff, and his friends were following him. Luke met your eyes for half a second before storming off in the opposite direction — and with the influence of the tug on your heart, you followed. 

He was halfway to the Hermes cabin when you caught him, and you were thrown back to the time he got into that…thing with Dean from Ares and you chased him all the way up the hill. This time, it was down, and you were a lot less out of breath when you reached out and tugged on his elbow. 

He turned to you, “What?”

You paused, hand falling to your side. You swallowed, shrugged, “I…uh…”

Luke tightened his jaw, eyes flicking above your head like if he looked at you any longer his facade would break. He took in a deep breath and met your gaze once more, “Go to the campfire.”

“What —?”

“Go to the campfire.” He was backing away, “Entertain your fans, give out autographs. Conjure some more lighting. I don’t know. Do something, but don’t do it here.” 

You weren’t having that. Your gaze hardened, “Hey. You’re not allowed to say that to me after you ignored me all day.”

“I —“ He went for a rebuttal, but came up short, licking his lips in frustration. “You disappeared.”

“I was in the Big House, being interrogated.” You explained, annoyance clear in your tone, “I would’ve liked it if my best friend was waiting for me when I got out but unfortunately he decided he hated me like everyone else and I had to cry alone in my cabin.” 

He paused then, taking slow steps back towards you and meeting your saddened gaze. His brows furrowed, “I’m your best friend?” 

You cracked a tiny smile, “Of course you are, idiot.” 

His nod was barely there, but you saw it. You also saw his smile, small like yours and gone in a flash. “I don’t hate you.” He said, “I don’t care that Zeus is your dad. It’s just…”

“He forgot about me.” 

“What?”

You shrugged, folding your arms. There, standing in the middle of the cabins and staring at Luke Castellan, you admitted out loud what you’d been avoiding since you left the Big House, “Zeus. He forgot about me. That's why I never got attacked by monsters, because my deadbeat father was so busy turning his kid into a tree that he forgot he had another one.” 

Even under the tears brimming in your lids and through the lump on your throat, you saw Luke flinch. A minute movement, but you caught it like you caught all of his other details. The freckle on his eyebrow, the scar on his forehead that other people missed because they were too busy staring at his big one. The flinch when you brought up the tree. Thalia Grace, is what Chiron had called her. 

“I’m sorry for avoiding you.” He said in a low murmur. “Thalia was a friend of mine and Annabeth’s. Brought back some rough memories.” 

“Oh.” You breathed, “Oh, gods. I’m so sorry.” 

You stepped forward and wrapped your arms around his torso before you could think about it. Big bad Luke definitely didn’t like hugs, but there you were; hugging him and staining his camp shirt with your salty tears. You couldn’t help it — you were so full of emotions that a single hug that he hadn't even reciprocated was bringing you to tears. 

Then he hugged you back, and you started bawling. 

Bawling like a baby into his chest while he stood there and held you. Crying about your dad who forgot about you, your sister who died while you lived a happy life, your nonexistent purpose in life because you were over sixteen now and there was nothing for you. Maybe being a forbidden kid was enough, but not really. You weren’t forbidden enough for them, apparently. 

“Sorry for shoving Chris.” He spoke into your hair. You pulled your head back enough to meet his eyes, “He was saying shit about you and Thalia and it pissed me off. I know that you want me to be better, happier or whatever, and I am trying but…”

“I don’t care.”

His lips shut with a smack, “What?”

You let out a sad chuckle, “Be miserable. I don’t care, I like you for who you are. Plus, I get it. Y’know? This isn’t the happiest life.” 

Luke looked at you with an expression so genuine and heavy that it sort of scared you, but you let it burn you. You’d let him burn you forever more. Then he let out a breath, tinged with relief, and relaxed his forehead onto your own. You stayed like that, heads pressed together and arms wrapped around one another, until footsteps bled into your ears. 

You pulled away from each other and spotted Annabeth, who was making her way over very quickly, trudging through the grass that was still wet from earlier. 

“Anna Banana.” Luke squinted, his new way of smiling, “What are ya’ doing over here?”

The girl stopped between the two of you and ignored her brother in favour of looking at you, “So, you’re Zeus’ kid.”

“Yup.”

“I knew your sister. She was my sister, too, for a bit.” She said, and you thought it sounded sad, but the girl hid her emotions well. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You shrugged — it wasn’t anyone’s fault but Zeus’. You sent her a kind smile. 

She returned it, glancing at Luke then, “Don’t call me that.” 

He chucked, patting her on the head and yanking on one of her braids. She huffed and smacked his hand away, but smiled nonetheless. Then she looked back at you, “You were good with that spear today. Maybe Athena could pair up with Zeus for the next game.”

“Maybe they could.” You nodded. 

She nodded back, before announcing her departure and heading off. You looked at Luke with a proud grin, “She likes me.” 

He smiled fully, amused, “She does.”

“You like me.”

A little sheepish, “I do.”

“So who cares if daddy dearest doesn’t?” You settled on, tilting your head, “We got each other.” 

Luke nodded, and you admired the way he looked. He was handsome, that you knew, but he seemed particularly beautiful under the moon, alone with you.

🏷️ @katherines-imagines @lovingjasontoddmakemewanttocry @jennapancake @cobaltskiez @loveryoushouldcomeoverr @m00ng4z3r @ma1dita @woodlandwrites @tsireyasgf @theo-notts-doll @iammightsadyall @fennecswife @csifandom @evilwrongdoer @blueberryjune @dancing-inasnowglobe @acidaciruela @solshaven @rosieandthethorns @sofiacblair @obxstiles @lukecastellanirl (comment to be removed/added!) (also sorry if some of these didn’t work idk what’s going on)

[guiltyc0nscience]

⋆˙⟡ this is me trying, chris sturniolo

chris sturniolo x fem!reader

synopsis. chris tried so hard to support you through your drug addiction that had been ongoing for a year, every time he got you out, you fell back into the hole. one day chris had finally had enough and had a talk with you about wether or not you were willing to change for him, but once you say can’t, he leaves your relationship behind for good.

warnings. angst, drug addiction (doesn’t go into any sort of description), crying, breaking up.

authors note. this took like two months to finish and i’m so relived i finished it, but enjoy. also, spread kindness and love, you never know what someone is going through in life. i love each and every single one of you guys.

ever since you turned 18, life took a dark turn that no one saw coming. the thrill of adulthood quickly faded, replaced by an insatiable craving for drugs that clouded your mind and overwhelmed your spirit. chris, your boyfriend, stood by your side, determined to help you break free from the chains of addiction. he offered support, kept you away from parties to avoid drugs being in your possession, and even tried to distract you with adventures, hoping to rekindle the joy you once had in your life.

but each time he thought you were making progress, the grip of the addictive substances would pull you back in. you'd promise him it would be the last time, but the cycle continued, leaving chris feeling helpless and heartbroken. he watched as the vibrant person he once loved slowly faded away, replaced by someone consumed by the highs and lows of addiction.

after countless attempts of trying to reach you, chris had finally reached his breaking point. he stood in front of you, eyes filled with a mix of frustration and sorrow, and said, "i can't do this anymore. i can't keep watching you destroy yourself like this."

those words hung heavy in the air, echoing the painful reality that your relationship was now teetering on the edge of collapse.

you felt the weight of chris' words crash down on you like a tidal wave. the hurt in his voice was unmistakable, and for a brief moment, you felt a flicker of clarity amidst the haze of addiction. you wanted to reach out, to tell him that you were sorry, that you didn't want to lose him, but the fear of vulnerability held you back.

chris turned away, his frustration evident as he paced his room. "i've tried everything, but i can't keep sacrificing my own well-being for you. you need to want this for yourself." his voice was tight, strained from the emotional burden he had been carrying. you could see the pain etched on his face, a painful reminder of how far you had fallen.

in the moment, you realised that your addiction had not only trapped you but also threatened to destroy the most important relationship in your life. you took a deep breath, fighting back tears, and finally whispered, "i don't want to lose you, chris. i just don't know how to stop." the vulnerability in your voice hung in the air, a desperate plea for understanding and a lifeline back to the person you used to be.

chris paused, his back still turned to you, and you could see the tension in his shoulders. slowly, he turned around, his expression softening just a fraction. "you need to take that first step, even if it's the hardest thing you've ever done," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "i can't fight this battle for you, but i'll be here to support you every step of the way if you're ready to try."

you felt a rush of conflicting emotions — fear, hope, and a deep seated anxiety that gnawed at your insides. the thought of facing your addiction head-on felt overwhelming, but the idea of losing chris was even more terrifying. "what if i fail again?" you asked, your voice trembling, "what if i let you down?"

chris took a step closer, his gaze steady and sincere. "you might stumble, but that doesn't mean you've failed. it means you're human. what matters is that you keep trying. i believe in you, even when you don't believe in yourself." his words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, and for the first time in a long while, you felt a glimmer of hope. maybe, just maybe, this was the moment you could begin to reclaim your life.

you took a deep breath, the weight of chris' words hanging heavily in the air. "i don't know if i can do it," you admitted, the vulnerability of the moment crashing down on you again. "what if i just end up hurting you more?"

chris looked at you with a mixture of concern and frustration. "you're not the only one hurting here. i can't keep watching you spiral down this path. it's tearing me apart." his voice was strained, and you could see the toll this had taken on him. the reality of the situation settled in like a thick fog, suffocating and unyielding.

as silence enveloped the room, you felt a sense of despair creeping in. you wanted to believe that change was possible, but the shadows of doubt loomed larger. "maybe i'm just not meant to get better," you whispered, the hopelessness creeping into your heart. chris' expression faltered, and for a moment, you both stood there, caught in the truthful pain that sometimes, despite the love and support, not every story has a happy ending.

chris ran a hand through his hair, frustration and sadness mixing in his eyes. “you can’t think like that. it’s not true. but i can’t keep doing this if you’re not willing to fight for yourself,” he said, his voice firm yet pained. “i’m here, but i can’t be your crutch forever. you have to want this y/n.”

you felt a sting of his words, each one a reminder of the reality you were trying to escape. “what if i don’t know how to want it?” you replied, your voice cracking. “what if im just too far gone?” the tears began to well up, and you fought to keep them at bay, not wanting to show chris just have vulnerable you felt.

he stepped closer, his expression softening again, but the distance between you felt insurmountable. “i can’t answer that for you. all i can do is stand here and hope you find the strength to take that step. but i can’t keep waiting.” he said, the finality in his tone hitting you like a cold wave. you realised then that this moment might be a turning point, but it could also be the beginning of the end for what you both had fought so hard to hold onto.

you felt a knot tightening in your stomach as his words sank in. “so, what happens if i can’t?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. the uncertainty clawed at you, and the thought of losing chris loomed larger than ever. “is this really it?”

chris sighed, the weight of the moment pressing down on both of you. “i don’t want it to be, but i can’t keep sacrificing my own well-being. it’s not fair to either of us,” he replied, his tone heavy with regret. “you have to choose, but i can’t make that choice for you.”

the silence that followed was deafening, each second stretching out painfully. you could see the hurt in his eyes, the flicker of hope battling against despair. “i just… i wish things were different,” you admitted, feeling the tears finally spill over. “but i don’t know how to change.”

as you stood there, the reality of the situation settled in, and you realised that sometimes, no matter how much you want to hold onto something, you have to confront the possibility that it might slip away.

you took a step back, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on you. “chris, i don’t think i can do this. i want to, but it feels too big, too overwhelming,” you said, your voice trembling.

chris’ expression shifted, a mix of understanding and disappointed clothing his features. “i get that, but i can’t keep waiting for you to figure it out. i need to take care of myself too,” he replied softly, the hurt evident in his eyes.

as he turned to leave, a part of you felt like it was breaking. “wait, please don’t go,” you called out, desperation creeping into your voice. but he paused for just a moment, looking back at you with a heavy heart. “i have to, for both of us,” he said before walking away, leaving you standing there, feeling more lost than ever.

you felt a surge of panic as you watched him walk away, and without thinking, you rushed after him, your heart pounding in your chest. “chris, please!” you shouted, your voice echoing in the stillness of the night.

when you reached him, you grabbed his arm, turning him to face you. the tears that had been threatening to spill finally broke free at a rapid pace, streaming down your face. “i can’t let you go like this. i’m so scared of losing you,” you cried, the weight of your emotions crashing down around you.

chris’ eyes softened as he took a step closer, but the distance between you felt insurmountable. “i don’t want to hurt you, but i can’t keep holding on when you’re not ready,” he said gently, his own tears now falling. the pain in his voice only made your heart ache more, and you felt completely vulnerable, exposed in your grief, “i need you to understand,” he continued, but the words felt like they were slipping away as you broke down in front of him, feeling utterly lost.

chris stepped closer, pulling you into a warm embrace, his presence a comforting balm against the pain swelling inside you. “i know this is hard,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “i care about you so much, and i want to be here for you.”

as you leaned into him, feeling the warmth radiating from his body, you thought maybe there was hope. but then he pulled back slightly, his eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and resolve. “but i can’t keep doing this. it’s tearing us apart, and i don’t want to hurt you anymore,” he confessed, his voice trembling.

you felt a lump in your throat as you tried to process his words. “chris. please…” you started, but he shook his head gently. “you need to find you own way, and so do i.”

in that moment, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a soft, lingering kiss that felt like a goodbye. it was tender and filled with all the unspoken words between you. when he finally pulled away, there were tears in his eyes, but he forces a small smile. “take care of yourself, y/n.” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. then, with one last look, he turned and walked out of your house, leaving you standing there, feeling the weight of forever in his absence.

[aerascreamer]

I’ve been seeing a bunch of posts about the Batkids calling Dick out for being a cop and although I find them funny, the actual discussion would be going like this (also pardon me for any inconsistencies):

Jason: no way you actually became a cop Dickward-

Dick: I did. I saw how evil spread so deeply in Blüdhaven. I saw how the police contributed to the darkness of the city and the corruption running rampant. And I believed I could change this. I believed I could fight corruption from the inside and find good cops willing to fight for justice. For the longest time I supported and was supported by Gordon, Montoya and many more dedicated police officers who believed in the same cause as me. But I underestimated the corruption. I underestimated the depth the root of evil has reached. The officers on the top cared only about status and power, they only stick up for each other and if you didn’t comply and give up your morals, you’re harassed, isolated, driven out of the precinct. Fuck did my mental health took a toll. I constantly had to navigate disgust at the other’s behaviour, the stress of trying to fight back, and the hopelessness of the situation. And I had to keep up being Nightwing on top of it. So I needed to leave. I had to give up and lose this battle so I could continue the war. Had I stubborned my way into this wall, I don’t know if I’d still be here today…

Jason:

Jason: … I’m really wondering how Gordon is able to handle that kind of pressure if you couldn’t.

Dick: In my opinion, he cleaned up the GCPD years ago from a ton of bad weeds so its current state is much more manageable than Blud’s police. And he had the help of Batman, me, yours and all the others.

Jason: That make sense… also you need a god damn therapist.

Dick: No.

—

On a more serious note, typing this post made me realised how many other posts made Dick into a goofy character and even a joke.

Although I’m a sucker for fire fighter or gym teacher Dick, I recognise the potential Dick as a police officer has for storytelling, for exploring Dick’s resilience and morality as well as the harmful establishment that is the police system. I have yet to see someone explore this path with Dick either succeeding and becoming a figure similar to Gordon, or failing and having to fall back in vigilantism to make a change. Yet this possibility is rehashed as a joke, much like Dick himself.

In many more lighthearted post, he is treated as this bubbly over the top character who is poked fun at (being a cop, the Discowing, the mullet, obsession with cereal, butt jokes etc.), much like Tim is reduced to sad wet cat coffee addict. To me, Dick is a steady figure careful of each of his moves. He is a man who’s life is dedicated to hope, justice and positive change. He is a competent leader who wears a smile to reassure everyone and give them strength when heading for battle. He is a fierce protector whose anger you don’t want to be on the receiving end.

It’s fine to make him chirpier and more extravagant but to the point of becoming an almost comic relief? The JLA did not choose him and his team to fill in for them for nothing.

[baelonthebrave]

alistair/warden is actually killing me though like it’s so easy to get caught up in the fact that they have the fates of nations on their shoulders. they are the heroes of this story, they’ve lost everything that matters to them and they’ll have to give up even more before this is all over - that’s part of the job description. but then they actually interact with each other and you’re brought crashing back down to the realisation that they are just kids falling in love. like it literally doesn’t matter that they’re fighting armies of darkspawn on the daily, their voices are still going to tremble when they say I love you for the first time. their hearts are still going to be racing when they realise they’re about to lose their virginity together. first date on friday, battle of denerim on saturday - it’s just special writing that you can feel the weight of both of those things at the same time in this story.