#fic: Love on Ice

[bamsara]

"why would you read a fic with a scene or something you dont like in it" you see i have this ability called using my thumb to scroll down the phone screen really fast

[fourmoony]

heyyy read you're looking for requests so here's one! james coming from hockey practice (i love hockey player james) and you tell him that a guy from uni has been hitting on you and stuf. he doesn't get mad just queasy, but then he needs reassurance too!

thanks for requesting, angel!

cw: insecurities, language, unwanted advances

1.4k, modern au, ice hockey James

The tell-tale sound of James' bag being abandoned haphazardly by the door alerts you to his presence. The door clicks shut soon after, followed by a heavy sigh. He's likely exhausted - always is after practice, especially if he and Sirius get caught mouthing off and are punished with bag skating.

James rounds the corner into the living room at the same time you pause your show and sit up to greet him. He doesn't acknowledge your abandoned plate from dinner or the pile of unfolded washing on the arm chair to his left. Instead, he gives you a tired smile and collapses into a heap beside you on the sofa. "Hi, bug." He mumbles, chin tucked into the neckline of his hoodie. Exhaustion seeps from his voice.

"Hi, handsome." You soothe, hand reaching out to toy with the curls at the nape of your boyfriend's neck. They're still damp from his post-practice shower, the smell of his body wash sweet and heady in your nose. "How was practice?"

He lets out a long suffering sigh, leans into your touch, "Stressful. The team isn't where we need to be for the playoffs. Coach made sure to let us know how angry he is about it."

You hum softly, scoot closer to James on the sofa until you're practically in his lap. James likes touch, he likes the connection, the intimacy, the weight of your body on top of his. You're happy to indulge him, the flowers that your boyfriend brings about your rib cage blossoming as his arm wraps around your middle, hoists you fully onto his lap. "What does he expect, you know? Half of his team graduated out, last year. He only has a couple of you guys left and the rest are freshmen." You try to justify James, but it seems the reminder only further sours his mood.

"Yeah, try telling him that. He thinks everyone is just born to be in the NHL, that these guys should already be up to standard, that they don't need the same exact training and coaching that we got." James' voice is thick with coiling tension, even if his muscles seem to be relaxing under you.

You smooth the baby hairs under your fingers, tilting your head until his eyes meet yours, "You're their captain, baby," You smile, "I bet they'd listen to it a lot better coming from you. They like you, look up to you. You be their coach if coach isn't going to step up."

Your boyfriend smiles, the sun peeking through storm clouds. A glimpse of your Jamie. He leans forwards, lips soft and gentle as he presses them to yours. He hums into the kiss, hands squeezing your hips. "Thanks."

"Anytime, handsome."

"How was your day?" James asks, feet stretching out to sit atop the coffee table.

You'd scold him if you weren't so busy quelling the beating of your heart. Any kiss from James sends you reeling, has done since the first time in freshman year. You don't think you'll ever get over the fact that he's your boyfriend. That he loves you as you love him, that you'll grow old and grey together. It never quite feels real.

"Good. Productive. We have a project due for McGonagall's class on Wednesday so I just worked on that most of the day." You don't feel the need to mention that you pointedly worked alone on your half of the project, but James frowns at your words and you know he's going to ask.

"You worked alone?"

"Yeah." You should probably say more, but James has a shorter fuse than Sirius does in general when it comes to you and you don't feel like unleashing all two hundred pounds of ice-hockey muscle onto the arrogant asshole who won't leave you alone.

James' thumb rubs steady circles into the fat of your thigh, his brows hooked upward in the middle a blatant sign of his confusion, "Your group have left you to do all the work?"

"No," You shake your head, "It was just easier to do my part on my own."

James doesn't say anything, but it's clear that he's waiting for you to go on. You sigh through your nose, head falling to rest on your boyfriend's shoulder, "One of the guys in my group has been hitting on me pretty regularly."

"What?" James asks around a swallow, voice hoarse. His muscles tense under you, his thumb pausing it's soothing measures on your thigh.

You shrug, "He keeps saying how he'd treat me right, how a 'pretty girl like me' deserves better. It's all bullshit, so I chose to work myself and just send the rest of the group my sections."

"Right."

It's odd, the way your body reacts to a single word as though it were a slap in the face. Your stomach sinks because you realise James isn't angry. He isn't itching to pound the guy's face into the ground and he isn't insisting you allow him to fix the problem, himself. You remove your head from James' shoulder, find him pale faced and distant. He looks lost, nauseous. "Jamie?"

James shrugs, eyes cold, "What?"

"'Right.'? That's all you have to say to that? What's wrong?" You ask, drawing further away the colder the look in James' eyes gets.

"What would you like me to say? That he might be right?" There's a clipped edge to your boyfriend's voice that you've never heard before, that jolts your body into fight or flight mode quicker than you'd care to admit.

You remove yourself from James' lap, confusion evident on your face as you settle to face him on the coffee table. His feet meet the ground with a thud as he moves to stand. Your hand flies out, a firm grip on his knee that begs him not to move. James gives you a sad look as he complies, fidgets with the draw strings on his jogging bottoms. "You think he has a point?" You ask.

James nods, lips pursed, eyes avoiding yours so evidently it angers you.

"Why?"

Your boyfriend shrugs again, tips his head back and lets out a groan, "You know at the end of this year I'm going to be drafted, right? I'm going to have to move across the country, probably, I won't have a choice in the matter and neither will you."

"We've had this argument before, James. I'm going wherever you go. I don't care where it is! It could be fucking Antartica and I'd still go." Your voice sounds less stern than you'd intended, but James softens slightly at your words.

"But you shouldn't have to just pick up your life and move because of me. You deserve someone who can give you stability and all of their time. I can't." James leans forwards until his elbows are resting on his knees, his face so close to yours you can feel his breaths.

It's an age-old argument, one you and James used to have often in the beginning. Before you knew that you wanted James in your life forever, back when he was trying to push you away with everything he had because he didn't want to risk falling in love with you and having to leave you, one day. The argument lessened the longer you were together, decisions made. You'd made up your mind the day James told you he loved you that you'd follow him anywhere, that you'd give up anything and everything to just be with him.

"I don't want anyone else. I don't care where we are in this world, James. I want you. That's all." You reach for him, thumbs swiping under his eyes in steady motions.

He takes a breath, closes his eyes under your touch. "I can't help but feel I'm asking you to sacrifice more than I'm worth."

And that just won't do. You clamber back onto his lap, legs on either side of his hips and chase his eyes. They're dark in the dim light of the living room, a deep brown filled with fear. "You're worth everything, Jamie. Everything." You tell him. And you mean it.

James swallows, nods. His arms wrap around you, pull you to him until he's falling back into the softness of the couch. "I love you." He tells you, vulnerable as you've ever heard him.

Flowers bloom all along the crevices of your rib cage, pull taught until you're so overflowing with love and happiness that all you can think to do is kiss him. He chases your lips when you pull back, a smile toying at the corner of his mouth. "I love you too, Jamie."

"So you're not gonna leave me for that guy in your Psych class?" He asks, a twinkle in his eye that lets you know he's kidding.

You laugh, loud and obnoxious and your boyfriend swallows it with a world-ending kiss.

[luxaofhesperides]

Could i request a ghostlight where danny can turn into a dragon, it could be though a curse or just training from queen dora?

Like dragon Danny seeing the yellow signal outfit and thinking "mmmmm gold, shiny, must take".

He should probably be more worried about being cursed.

Scratch that, he should definitely be more worried about being cursed. However, it wasn’t done intentionally or in bad faith. This is just the consequences of him, Sam, and Tucker fucking around and finding out when left unsupervised with the grimoire of a long dead witch.

In their defense, they didn’t know Tucker could use magic. This revelation both upset Tucker, who refused to be swayed from tech, and Sam, who thought she was a better fit for magic considering how goth she is. Danny hadn’t really cared, since he was too busy being turned into a dragon. At least it isn’t like with Dora’s necklace; Danny is still himself, can think clearly, and isn’t overcome by rage. 

He’s just… Danny. But as a dragon.

“Well, you do something to fix him then!” Tucker shouts, waving a hand in the air angrily, “Since you want to be so good at magic, you do it then!”

“I would if I could! But you’re the one who gets to use magic, so figure it out and turn Danny back!” Sam shouts back, getting in Tucker’s face with a fierce scowl.

Danny sighs, shifting uncomfortably. His room is not big enough for a dragon, and his back is starting to cramp up. He looks longingly out the window to the clear skies that call to him, and wonders when his friends will stop fighting. 

They keep shouting, so he doubts they’ll be able to focus on actually helping him for at least another hour.

The only silver lining about the situation is that Jazz and his parents are gone, taking the weekend to visit a few colleges so Jazz can decide which one she wants to go to. Though he’s been cursed into dragon form and his friends are yelling about it, at least his family can’t make it any worse with their attempts to ‘fix’ things. 

There’s a lull in the yelling, Sam and Tucker both turning their attention back to the grimoire. Danny shifts his wings, tail flicking slightly, and leans his head closer. He wishes he could help figure this out, but he can’t talk in this form, and any attempt at charades will destroy his room. 

His friends look focused, at least. So maybe they’ve decided to focus on finding solutions instead of fighting. 

“Here,” Sam says, shoving the grimoire over to Tucker roughly. “Try that.”

Tucker reads over the spell, then scoffs and pushes the grimoire back. “That’s not going to fix anything. Didn’t you read it? It clearly says truth is the greatest revenge, revealing one’s true form force it into light. It’s talking about making people who are secretly cruel turn ugly or something like that! It’s not going to do anything for Danny!”

“It says one’s true form and Danny’s is a human! That would work!”

And they go right back to arguing.

Danny sighs, turning to stare out the window again.

In any other circumstance, being a dragon would be so fun. He has wings! He’s big and has claws and can probably breathe fire! And it’s not making him act on animal instincts or anything! If he could just be outside…

He glances at Sam and Tucker again. 

Maybe he can go outside, enjoy the curse a bit before they figure out a way to undo it. Spend some time flying around with wings. 

All the curse did was turn him into a dragon. It just changed his form. If he still has his ghost powers, if the curse didn’t change his nature from halfa to dragon…

Carefully, Danny focuses on his tail and tries to make it intangible. There’s a strange sensation of ice running down his spine, then it goes into his tail. In the next second, his tail drops through the floor, and Danny bites down a grin. 

He is so out of here. 

He gives Sam and Tucker another glance; they’ve got their heads bent over the grimoire, paying no attention to him. 

Perfect.

Danny goes fully intangible and sinks through the floor of his bedroom, then maneuvers his way outside the house. As soon as he’s out, standing beneath the sunlight and able to stretch out his new body, Danny pulls his power back and takes a few careful steps on the grass, testing his balance. His wings shift on his back, and he stretches them out, feeling the way his new limbs move.

Everything feels natural, as if he’s always been a dragon.

Taking a deep breath, Danny spreads his wings out and takes off running. A few hard pumps of his wings gets him into the air, and he can’t help but let out a joyful roar. 

Distantly, he hears Tucker and Sam yelling again, but he’s too happy to be free of that room to care. Let them argue. He wants to have fun.

Staying in Amity Park is a no go; Val might go after him, thinking he’s a threat, and ghosts could pop out at any time to cause problems. He might as well take this chance to fly around wherever he wants. Chicago wouldn’t be too hard to reach with how fast he’s flying, but he’s been there before and doesn’t want to stay in Illinois. 

What other big city is nearby that he can fly to?

New York?

Or, better yet, Gotham. 

It’s definitely a bad idea, but if any city is able to handle a dragon appearing without warning, it would be Gotham. Plus, he might get to see some of the heroes in action! Sure, it’s the middle of the day, but surely a dragon is a good enough reason for Batman to show up before the sun sets. 

Mind made up, Danny flies up into the clouds and heads towards Gotham, following the roads out of Amity Park. 

The flight is quick. It takes barely over an hour to see the dark figures of Gotham’s tallest buildings, fog surrounding the city like something out of a horror movie. The sun glints off the ocean behind the city for a rare, cloudless day. He’s heard stories about Gotham’s weather, how dreary it is, the occasional acid rain, the gloominess of it all. As bad as his luck is, it seems that the sunny day is trying to give him something good to even it out after being cursed into a dragon.

Excited, Danny angles himself down, diving out of the lower clouds and shifts his wings to catch on a wind current that smoothly sends him towards the city.

Just to be careful, he goes invisible as he gets closer, staying out of sight once he enters the city proper. 

Noise overwhelms him immediately, cars honking and voices yelling, the occasional gunshot and sound of something breaking. It makes Danny wince, disoriented enough to make him falter as he flies above the streets.

Amity Park is quiet and peaceful in comparison, so much so that he hadn’t realized just how enhanced his senses had become in a dragon’s form. 

The sounds of everything are so much, and all the movement of such a big city is dizzying. At least he can’t smell anything but salt from the sea; if he had to deal with the constant smell of blood, guts, and sewage, he would find a way to fully die to get away from it.

He slows down to a smooth glide, weaving his way between buildings as he takes in the city. Even with the sun out, it’s gloomy, the tall buildings casting shadows across the streets, a mix of art deco and gothic architecture filling up the space. He wonders if he should find some place up high he can rest, maybe bathe in the sun for a bit until he felt like moving again. If he managed to fall asleep, that might give Sam and Tucker enough time to figure out how to undo the curse.

“Ow! Shit, that hurts.”

Or he indulge in his curiosity and check up on whoever just cursed loud enough to be heard over the ambient noise of Gotham.

It takes a minute of searching before Danny’s eyes zero in on a bright flash of yellow moving across rooftops. 

All other colors seem dull in comparison, and Danny has just enough time to think, Oh, there’s the dragon instincts taking over, before he’s flying after it, unable to focus on anything else.

Every time the yellow leaps out of the shadows, it’s as if it glows. As if Danny’s chasing sunlight. 

He gets close, but loses the yellow every so often with how he has to maneuver around buildings, putting his new flying abilities to the test in an effort to keep up.

Then the yellow comes to an abrupt stop. Danny can’t stop in time and flies past it, tilting his body and spreading out his wides as far as he can to make a tight turn. 

“I’m fine, just bruised up, but I feel like I’m being followed,” the yellow says to no one. There’s a pause, and then the yellow says, “I don’t see anything, is the thing.”

If the yellow has anything more to say, it doesn’t get the chance to do more than open its mouth before Danny’s crashing into it, tackling it to the ground. 

He’s elated as they roll across the roof, the living sunlight caught safe in his arms. He holds it close to his chest, protecting it until they come to a stop, dropping his invisibility as a low rumble builds in the back of his throat. The dragon brain has thoroughly taken over, and it takes far too long to wrestle control back from it.

Once he’s able to think more clearly, Danny looks down at the poor guy he’s caught and realizes, hey that’s a hero!

And then he realizes, that’s a hero. I fucked up.

He tries to say sorry, but all that comes out is a low chuff. The hero, who he can recognize as the Signal because who else wears mostly yellow in Gotham, leans back as much as he can, trapped in Danny’s grasp.

“Hey, dragon,” Signal says nervously. “I’m really hoping you didn’t catch me because you were looking for a snack.”

Danny huffs, bumping his head against Signal’s chest. He hopes he doesn’t come across as aggressive, because all he wants to do is laze around with a hero, his dragon brain happy to keep hold of its yellow sunshine.

He’s not going to let go of Signal, though. He intends to make the most of this moment while he can.

“Okay. You seem friendly? That’s good I guess.” Signal sighs, then tries to wiggle out of Danny’s grip. Danny doesn’t budge until Signal gasps and curls into himself, clearly in pain.

Worried, Danny lets go of him and tries to see what’s wrong, his snout poking against the Signal’s ribs.

The Signal hisses out a breath, trying to push Danny away. “Stop, don’t do that. Man, I hope my ribs aren’t broken. That would suck.”

That would suck. Rib injuries are the worst, and the bruises always seem to stay longer on ribs than anywhere else, in Danny’s experience. He would love to offer the Signal some ice, but as a dragon, he’s not sure how to use that particular power. He settles instead for backing off and making himself small, offering an apologetic rumble.

“Thanks,” Signal smiles, gingerly uncurling from where he’s hunched over, an arm crossing his stomach, protecting it. “I guess you’re friendly, then?”

Danny nods.

“...And you can understand me?”

Danny nods harder, a high pitched growl slipping out of his mouth. 

“That’s so cool. What are you doing here in Gotham?”

It’s not a yes or no question, so Danny’s stuck on how to answer when words are so far out of reach. He shrugs, wings shifting against his back, then carefully bumps his head against the Signal’s helmet. 

“Yeah, that was a bad question. Do you need help?”

Danny scrunches up his nose as he thinks. He is cursed, but so far, being a dragon isn’t all that bad. It sucks that he can’t talk, but everything else is cool! He just doesn’t want to be a dragon forever. But it’s nothing the Signal can help with, so Danny just shrugs again.

The Signal tilts his head. “Alright. I guess I’ll get going then, and you can chill up here.”

The low growl comes suddenly, without him even thinking, and Danny wraps himself around the hero again. Distantly, he thinks that he should stop, that this is technically holding the Signal in place against his will, but the much louder, dragon part of him is deeply upset by the thought of the Signal leaving while he’s injured. Danny can protect him, so there’s no need for him to go anywhere! In fact, he’s only safe as long as he’s with Danny!

He leans more of his weight onto the Signal until they both fall back onto the roof, pinning the hero in place. 

Danny tries to be gentle, but the impact still makes Signal groan, tensing up in pain.

Sorry, he tries to say, the words coming out in a low chuffing noise. He draws his tail up to curl around the Signal so he’s completely surrounded by Danny, kept safe from anything that would try to attack him. 

Letting out a breath, the Signal lightly knocks his head against Danny’s neck, the helmet barely felt through Danny’s scales. “Alright, Oracle, can you send someone to my location? I’m a bit stuck.”

It’s hard to hear, but Danny manages to make out a voice saying, “Black Bat is heading there now. What’s wrong?”

“I’m a bit stuck.”

“Injured?”

“Just my ribs, but that’s not really the problem. There’s a dragon who’s very determined to keep me on this roof.”

“A dragon,” the voice repeats. 

“Yeah. It seems to like me? But it’s also not letting me leave. So. I’m stuck.”

There’s a pause, then a soft burst of static before the voice says, “I’m going to send a message to everyone else just in case they’re able to provide any back up. I’m sure Tim is looking for an excuse to ditch Bruce at that accounting meeting.”

“Guess I’ll just wait to be rescued, then,” Signal says, sighing. Then he tilts his head up to look at Danny. “Is there some way you could talk to me? To pass the time. Maybe morse code? Do you know what that is?”

Dragon brain makes him stupid, apparently, because Danny does know morse code. He didn’t even think of alternative ways of communication once he discovered talking was impossible with his new vocal chords. 

It’s probably not even dragon brain. It’s just Danny brain that makes him like this.

Embarrassed, Danny drops his head onto the roof, drawing his tail closer to himself so it can cover his eyes, his best attempt at hiding his face. Then, with one sharp claw, he taps out Y.E.S.

“Oh! So, what’s up?”

N.O.T. D.RA.G.O.N. H.U.M.A.N. G.O.T. C.U.R.S.E.D.

“Why did you say you didn’t need help if you got cursed?!”

Danny wants to say it was an accident, but has no confidence that he can spell ‘accident’ correctly, so he goes with F.R.I.E.N.D. M.A.D.E. M.I.S.T.A.K.E.

“And can they fix it?”

I.D.K. T.H.E.Y. W.E.R.E. F.I.G.H.T.I.N.G. Danny huffs out a breath, flicking his tail in annoyance as he uncurls slightly, giving Signal some more breathing space. He doesn’t look as stressed out anymore, which is nice, but he still holds his ribs tenderly, careful not to move too much. G.O.T. B.O.R.E.D. L.E.F.T.

The Signal taps his own fingers against the roof, thinking after he takes in Danny’s words. “Do you think we can call them and see if they know how to fix it? I doubt you want to be a dragon forever.”

N.O. P.H.O.N.E.

“It’s cool, we can use mine.” And he pulls out a cell phone from… somewhere. Danny has no idea where. It’s like he blinked, and a phone suddenly appeared. His hero suit probably has a lot of hidden compartments and pockets to hold as much stuff as possible, but it’s so well designed that Danny can’t begin to think of where he’d put anything. Especially when his dragon brain keeps getting distracted by how nice the yellow is.

Danny taps out Tucker’s number when Signal asks for it, watching as the call connects and is put on speaker.

“Hello?” Tucker’s voice says, hesitant and a little distracted.

“Hi,” Signal responds with a mischievous smile, “Do you happen to be missing a dragon? Cause I’ve got one here who’s hoping he can get a little help from a friend.”

Danny hears something clatter on Tucker’s end, then Tucker starts yelling for Sam. He’s not quite able to bite back his laughter, entire body shaking with it. The Signal keeps his composure better, but he does share a glance with Danny that has him biting his lip, trying to keep his smile from growing.

“Where is he?!” Tucker demands, and for a moment Danny feels ashamed of how much stress he’s putting his best friends through. And then he remembers them fighting nonstop while ignoring him and doesn’t feel bad at all.

“Gotham.”

“...Gotham,” Sam repeats. Her voice is flat in the way it always gets before she verbally (and sometimes physically) tears someone apart. Danny winces hard enough that it jostles the Signal, making him glance back at Danny.

“Yeah. Gotham. He said he was cursed?”

Sam sighs heavily. “Yeah. Not my fault. It is Tucker’s fault, though.”

“I think I found the solution though! And also, it was an accident. You were the one who wanted to read the grimoire.”

He can tell they’re gearing up for another fight, so Danny lowers his face closer to the phone and lets loose a dark growl. It shuts them right up, and he briefly wonders about learning how to growl like that as a human, since it’s so effective.

Tucker clears his throat, and continues as if nothing happened. “Anyways. The cure. The thing that will make Danny stop being cursed.”

There’s another long pause.

“The cure…?” Signal prompts.

“Kisses.”

“Sorry, what?”

“It’s kisses.”

“Like… true love’s kiss?”

Danny hopes it’s not true love’s kiss. If it is, he’s never going to be human again. Who would his true love even be? As much as he liked Valerie, that ships sailed long ago. And he loves Sam and Tucker, but not quite like that. 

“No. Thankfully,” Sam says. “Just kisses. What matters is the amount, not the person it’s from. So whoever you are, we’re gonna need you to be giving Danny as many kisses as possible until he’s human again. We’re also on our way to Gotham now. Johnny’s offered us a ride.”

On cue, an engine revs loudly. 

“We’ll be there soon!” Tucker shouts over the engine, and the call ends just a second later. 

Danny huffs, shaking his head lightly.

“Interesting friends you got there,” Signal comments idly.

Y.E.S. Danny taps out. L.O.V.E. T.H.E.M.

The Signal sits up and moves away from Danny, who has to stomp down the urge to curl around the hero tighter to keep him in place. He stands up, putting his phone away, and looks over Danny. His gaze feels like a physical weight, moving from his face, and the horns on his head, to the scales covering him, to his wings and tail.

His tails flicks back and forth nervously. Danny can’t get it to stop.

“Dragon,” someone new says, startling Danny. He spots the newcomer immediately, a lithe figure in all black perched on the ledge of the roof. Her voice is rough and he can’t see her face at all, fully covered as it is in her mask.

This must be Black Bat. He doesn’t know much about her; no one does, with how she’s managed to avoid being photographed and how rarely she is seen by anyone at all. He honestly wasn’t sure if she was real or not, but here she is.

“Hey,” Signal greets easily, “We need to kiss him better.” 

Black Bat tilts her head. “Kiss… dragon?”

“He’s cursed. And kisses will fix him. Not true love’s kiss, but just a lot of kisses.”

“True love’s kiss?” she repeats.

“Oh, shit. I guess you haven’t read any fairy tales?” Black Bat shakes her head, and Danny wonders how she’s managed to avoid all fairy tales for so long. They’re usually among the first stories children are exposed to. “Yeah, in a lot of those stories, a curse can only be broken from a kiss by someone by love.”

Black Bat nods slowly, and it’s clear she doesn’t really understand, but she does hop off the ledge and walk over to Danny. She pulls up her mask to reveal her mouth, then looks to the Signal for guidance.

“Like this,” Signal says, then leans over and presses a soft kiss to Danny’s cheek.

If he were human, Danny would be blushing madly. As it is, he has to force himself to stay still and not hide his face in his hands, claws and all, from how flustered he is.

Black Bat follows in suit, dropping a delicate kiss to the top of his head. 

Danny loses track of how many kisses he gets, all over his face, beyond flustered by the amount of affection two heroes are showering him in. It’s just to break the curse, but it’s still a lot of kisses! 

Signal kisses the tip of his nose, and there’s a flash of light. Danny feels himself change, growing smaller, his human softness returning to him. It’s barely a few seconds, and then Danny’s human again, sitting on the roof with the Signal and Black Bat standing over him.

They blink at each other for a long moment, then Black Bat smiles and pats the top of his head. 

Danny smiles. He knows his cheeks are red, can feel how hot they are himself, and ducks his head, too embarrassed to look at either of them.

“How are you feeling?” Signal asks, crouching down to be eye level with Danny.

He tries to answer, but all that comes out is a hoarse rasp. He winces and brings a hand up to his throat, then shrugs and gives the Signal a thumbs up.

He clears his throat. This time, he manages to whisper, “Thank you.”

Black Bat gives him a cheerful wave, then hops back onto the ledge and jumps off. Signal barely takes his eyes off Danny enough to give her a nod goodbye. He reaches out and brushes Danny’s hair off his forehead some before his fingers trail down the side of his face. 

“I’ll admit, you looked cool as a dragon,” Signal says, “But you’re much cuter like this.”

Danny gives in and hides his face in his hands. The Signal laughs, warm and bright, and kisses his forehead. 

“Come on, let’s make sure your friends can find you.”

“They’re going to be so annoying about this,” Danny mutters.

“It’s how friends show affection.”

“Seriously, though, thank you. I know being tackled by a dragon isn’t what anyone expects. Did I hurt you? Your ribs…”

The Signal shrugs. “Nah. I’m all good. Just a little bruised, but it’ll heal quickly enough. Though, you’re more than welcome to give me a kiss to help me feel better.”

Danny shoves him lightly for the teasing, but he does pull the Signal back for a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth.

It’s only fair, after all.

[eliashirsch]

God Tier Top Gun Fanfictions. A Masterlist. (1/3)

As of 15th May 2024, these are some of the BEST stories I have read in the fandom. Of course, this is completely subjective and there are many personal factors as to why I crowned them God Tier. 

Mainly:

Reading it for the first time: ‘Oh, this is really good, I’m going to be thinking about this for the rest of my life’

When compiling the list: ‘Oh my god, this fic, man, this fic!!’

There are many other fics that match the first criteria, but for it to be on this list, I needed to have these two reactions.

REMINDER! READ THE AUTHORS' TAGS AND WARNINGS!!! They’re there for a reason. PLEASE make sure you understand where the story is going to be before reading!!

Without further ado, I present to you, my roman empires:)

Winner Categories:

1. Best of the Best Authors (1/3)

2. Best of the Best Series (2/3)

3. Best of the Best Fics (3/3)

4. Honorary Mentions (4/3)

Best of the Best Authors

Authors that I trust with my life, whose work are ALL incredibly well written. 

COMPACFLT @compacflt

They’re the first person to pop in my head when I was thinking about making this list. No amount of time and words will be enough for me to describe how good their work is. Seriously. It’s on a level I’ve never seen before for fanfiction. The world building, the characterization, the prose, everything. COMPACFLT has a way of understanding these characters, it makes so much sense and fits so well with canon. I’m just at a loss for words. Genuinely the reason I converted to Icemav supremacy.

When We Get Around to Talking About It 

Goose has been dead for a week and a half when Iceman loses his first wingman in a dogfight with six Soviet MiGs over the Sea of Okhotsk. Goose has been dead for thirty years when Iceman loses his second wingman to a surface-to-air missile on the tail-end of a mission he's responsible for: he's sent his family on a suicide mission to destroy a uranium enrichment facility in Russia's Far East. This is the story of those thirty years in the middle. (Or: Tom Kazansky rises through the ranks while trying to stay a good man. If he ever was one to begin with.)

This was the first story I’ve read from them. And it’s so… I don’t have words.  It’s told from Ice’s perspective, filling the gaps between TG and TG:M with added Icemav and Hangster. In my mind this is canon:D

Debriefing (& Other Stories)

"We can start here, I guess. If we're talking about us," Pete says. "Nineteen-eighty-six. The first thing I thought, when I saw you in that O-club, was: Iceman is off-limits. Capital O, capital L." Despite himself, despite the fear, Tom laughs a little. "Oh, yeah? Why's that?" "Well, first off, we were competition. And yeah, you were attractive, but then you opened your mouth and I swear. You were just an asshole. Goose is trying to introduce you to me and here I am thinking about how much of an asshole you are. Shut up about Cougar, asshole." "It was supposed to be a friendly competition!" "Yeah, right. So that's what I was thinking: he's attractive, clearly doesn't know how to talk to other men, might be into the proposition if I framed it the right way. But he's an asshole, so this competition is just gonna be friendly." Pete pauses. Then he says, "Ice, you wanna get married?" And that's how they start talking about it. (Or: they finally get around to talking about it. Plus a couple extra stories for good luck.)

Sigh and send COMPACFLT a loving look. This Maverick's POV adds so much to the story without being repetitive. COMPACFLT deliberately tells their story like puzzle pieces, and they complete each other—just like Icemav, if you will. 

The Slider oneshot is truly something else. I was so eager for the upload and kept an eye on their account for updates religiously. To flesh out a character that barely has any source material is an incredible skill to have. And the Bradley oneshot… Omg… My favorite characterization of Bradley, period. 

Tremors & Aftershocks

They both come back to their senses and stop openly crying again eventually. The stitches fall out of the thirty-year-old wounds and the scars fade back to skin-color. Life stops being so painfully raw after a couple weeks back home. You get used to miracles the way you get used to anything else. One day at a time. [Or: 40 years of extras, from 1982-2022. Some true love, some heartbreak, some miracles.]

To me, this one has a different feeling from the other two. More focused on Ice and Mav’s relationship as opposed to the whole plotline. It’s tender and bittersweet and feels like being hugged for the first time and then told that you wouldn’t get another hug in thirty years time.  

What impresses me most is that, if you go to COMPACFLT’s Tumblr account, you’ll see the thought they’ve put for these stories are INSANE. They’re so educated on the military and its history and it adds so much to these characters. I’m not American and all my writing for Top Gun will always stem from google searches and other fics. If you’re a nerd like me and like to read about other’s analysis about topics they know nothing about, I suggest you go to their account and have fun.

COMPACFLT, you have captured my soul with your writing. Thank you for your service and I wish you well in life.

AortaArgent @aortaargent

If you’re looking for an author who can write smut like nothing else, go to their profile. Better yet, click here, and scroll down to the threads they made about girl!Mav and get horny real quick. It’s a shortcut to heaven really. (And yes, I’m still upset that they seem to have left the fandom, but I still hold the stories they’ve left behind close to my heart:)) My favorites:

like a shotgun (needs an outcome)

“Ice gave me a handjob when we did this,” he argues. “Oh, that’s what gets you moving? Seeing who comes first?” With that, Slider takes hold of him, wrapping his hand around and keeping his fist steady. “Go on, baby girl. Fuck it like a good little -” He squeezes Slider’s balls a little harder than he’d imagine is necessarily pleasant. For Slider. It's definitely nice for him. “Fuck,” Kerner chokes out, weakly. Ice sounds like he’s trying not to laugh. “I told you he bites.” In which there are multiple realisations, improbable numbers of pilots hanging out in a shared shower, volleyball games and verbal tennis. Yes, it's compulsory to wear your dogtags in the shower - never know when you could need identification. (Only kidding, it's for added fuckability.)

It’s so hot... but believable at the same time. BDSM is just one of those things where you read about it and can tell if the author has experience or is just extremely well-informed. 

Eye to Eye 

“Maybe it’s not just us looking to get a piece of you,” Wolf says. He’s right by Maverick’s head, and a shiver rolls down his shoulders in a sweeping tide at the soft click of each word against his ear. “Maybe we offered. You’re so pretty, Mav. It’s not a hard sell.” His hands twitch with the effort of not reaching up to tear off the blindfold and find out if they’re telling the truth or just winding him up. It’s possible. Occupied, blindfolded, he might not have noticed the door opening. More guys could have been in the showers. Two hands circle his ankles, firm over his boots, and hold him steady. Someone else has his left hand, kneading the tendons down the back of it. Anyone and anything is plausible. A continuation. Finally.

HOT DAMN. That’s all.

AortaArgent portrayed Ice and Mav’s relationship as absolute and secure while having fun with Mav’s dynamic with the other guys. All of their works are mind-boggling and simply amazing!

thecarlysutra @icemankazansky

Need I say more? Carly’s one of the most prominent members of the Top Gun fandom. Actually, I trust any member of the Top Gun Old Guard. With Carly, there’s something about their writing that makes me think of discovering an old box of CDs you used to watch relentlessly, dusty and worn, but the nostalgia rushes back and it’s achingly familiar. You can tell they’ve been writing for Top Gun for so long the characters kind of became their own. And when you click on any fic they wrote, you can fall and trust they’ll catch you. My favorites:

and i promise, you're the locksmith

“Is something going on in your neighborhood?” Maverick asked. “Like … a pest problem or something?” “You could say that,” Ice said. “Like … a coyote or something?” “Suitors,” Ice said. Maverick's attempts to woo Iceman are somewhat complicated by the promise Ice has made: Anyone who wants to marry him must catch his cat, which wears the key to his house around its neck on a silver chain. Inspired by the Tumblr legend.

This one’s so cute!!! Ugh, I’m never going to get tired of reading Icemav fall in love over and over again. 

Dreams of Impact

Maverick's trip in Darkstar takes him further than he ever imagined possible.

Sigh for the second time and send hearts Carly’s way. Basically, Mav gets transported to another universe and weird things happen. I love fics that dabble with the universe, the what-ifs, the what could’ve been. Do you ever have that moment when you make a decision, look back and wonder how life would be if you chose differently? Click on the link and read 🫵

aelibia @topgunreacts

God. aelibia’s just too good. It’s like banger after banger after banger. If you’re looking for an author whose work is a guaranteed good read, click the link and it’ll show you magic. They have Icemav ranging from tender and soft to angsty, portraying all different sorts of love and a way of writing explicit sex that I’ve never found anywhere else. 

I can’t even pick which one’s my favorite because they’re all my favorite. Especially the series they wrote, oh my god. I love them all. However, one that I reread religiously and being giddy over is this:

Wine Dark Sea

Raised by a selkie mother bound to a human man, Ice returns to the human world as a teenager with a singular purpose: to find the source of human strength, and claim it for himself. But after a careless mistake binds him to another human man, Ice is forced to reconsider his most fundamental beliefs: What is the meaning of strength? And what is the cost of freedom?

It’s so silly at times and heartbreaking most of the time. I especially love the later chapters where the evil is defeated and Ice is just being a silly seal while Mav’s being the supportive partner that he is. This fic is the SOLE REASON that my favorite animal is a seal. Thank you for opening my eyes to something that has been so obvious from the start, your majesty aelibia.

I also humbly present these seal drawings because the image of Ice galumphing around a Navy base, complete with wet smacks and people shrieking in horror makes me laugh everyday. That, and the scene where Mav is surrounded by four fat harbor seal pups and reading a story to them. Eleven out of ten. 

This one’s my favorite:}

[babygirlgiles]

Why does no one else see my vision for post-war Effie Trinket. Like that woman does NOT become a civil servant, she does not join the ranks of government service. She is 100% New Panem’s first influencer. She was already having her It Girl moment as the escort of District Twelve’s victors beforehand and now there’s public perception that she was this Hunger Games insider playing the long con to dismantle the system from within and paid this great sacrifice for it by being tortured by Snow’s cadre for her efforts. Which is not true at all because she had No Clue what was going on but Plutarch needs new programming to fill all the hours that used to be taken up by Hunger Games related media so he decides to capitalize on Effie having Her Moment. And with people being allowed to travel between districts for the first time in over a generation and newfound freedom of information, there would a nationwide fascination how other people live. Effie ends up with her own lifestyle/travel series where she visits different regions of Panem and even exotic far away places such as “England”. She’s posting beach selfies on Panemstigram to promote her upcoming episode on lobster fishing off District Thirteen’s revitalized coastline.

She even gets her own daytime talk show at one point. She tries (and fails) for years to get Peeta on the show as a guest. Katniss has never watched a single episode.

[bloodybellycomb]

deeply respect people who write fix-it fanfics because my instinctual reaction is always the complete opposite. I will look at something I love to my very bones and think "hmmm...this could be more fucked up, how about I make everything worse, that seems fun". like some kind of mad unethical evil scientist experimenting on the people I love the most.

[toastchus]

super self indulgent art🫶🏼

[emys-123]

I have this icemav time travel au in my head that I don’t know how to write. So I am going to leave it here. It’s like 86 flyboys somehow ends up in 2022 and it’s been like a week since the 86 icemav met so they are still in their early you’re dangerous/I am dangerous phase.

Imagine their surprise when people in 2022 are going on and on about Mav and Ice being wingmen. Somehow all they hear about is Admiral Kazansky this, Iceman that (maybe they met cyclone first), while the older Mav is just chilling in the corner with a wild grin.

Then they find out icemav’s married with older Mav being all domestic with his Ice (it’s after a pneumonia scare and he’s being extremely protective). The younger Mav is too shocked and outright asks if all he does in future is be Iceman’s house husband which cracks up their older counterparts. Older Ice disagree and argue that he was the house husband waiting for Mav to come back from his missions and has a whole debate about it with his husband.

[enthyrea]

friend of mine gave me the brainrot so. top gun ‘86 but they’re in a band!

goose and mav had the idea to start the band after a night at the o club- goose drags slider into it who drags ice into it (who wanted to join anyways but was too proud to admit it) ice and mav argue about who gets to be lead vocal but eventually ice relents, and it’s not just because of the smile on mav’s face… definitely not (icemav worms got to me)

anyways this is super self indulgent but very fun to draw so pls enjoy

[little-pondhead]

Both Danny and Phantom have freckles. The only reason Wes can’t use this fact on his conspiracy board, however, is because Danny has freckles in the summer, and Phantom has freckles in the winter.

Every time Wes tries to convince people that Danny and Phantom are the same person, people around him being up this fact and his whole argument crumbles to the ground. He spends weeks trying to find any possible reason Danny’s freckles are on the opposite sides of the seasonal scale.

This is the only reason Danny’s identity has not been blown yet.

[otgo-brooklyn]

Older Brother!Slider with Baby Brother!Ice

Okay, so another contribution rant to the Top Gun Fandom:

Big Brother Slider, but ONLY, ONLY to Ice. And not the generic sibling relationship, no, but Ice is his Baby Brother.

For any who don't have that 'Baby' Sibling, as an eldest child, let me explain: A sibling is a younger, less better, version of yourself because your parents were a bit delusional and now there is Another™.

HOWEVER, a Baby Sibling, a BABY Sibling? No, they are essentially your own child, typically the youngest, they are your pride and joy, and when I tell you that with a Baby Sibling you become so protective over them you would commit horrible crimes for them- literally becoming an attack dog on a leash held by said Baby Sibling, that is a true Baby Sibling/Older Sibling relationship. The minute they are born they're just, your child, like so what the birth certificate says that their parents are my parents, that's obviously a lie. They legitimately become your child in more ways than one, whose only role in life is to be happy and loved. And this is SO the relationship between Slider and Ice.

Ice is the Baby Sibling™, with Slider as the protective older brother. Slider makes sure that Ice is happy, and cared for/loved, protected, everything for the Baby™. I cannot explain enough how much I love this head-cannon, and all the proof I'll ever need to explain it is this one GIF;

Look at Slider, the protective arm around the shoulder, the glare, the judgement in his very being, the way his jaw tenses-, compared to Ice, who is just sitting there, not even noticing, focusing on something else all happy like (Or as happy as Ice can get while in Ice-man mode (Or as happy as one can get when translating languages, if you saw my other post about Russian!Ice ;D)).

Slider nearly getting kicked out of the Top Gun program due to beating a fellow pilot unconscious because he DARED shit talk Ice

So they never gave Slider a DOB/specified age in Top Gun, but his actor, Rick Rossovich is 2 years older than Val Kilmer, so that only furthers the point of Slider's Older Brother Agenda

One time Goose was showing Ice how to cartwheel after Ice was interested in how he did it on the deck of the ship they were stationed on and Slider refused to allow Ice to do it because "What if he falls and cracks his skull open on the tarmac Goose!"

When reassured that Ice cracking his skull open isn't going to happen, and Goose was only going to demonstrate, Slider still wont budge on it. Ice never learned how to do a cartwheel to this day

Ice's foot getting caught in the track and wheels of a stationary, not turned on/working tank on accident and one singular, quiet, whispered "ow" after pulling it out of said track/wheel, was all it took to have Slider screaming his head off carrying Ice into medical absolutely positive that Ice just "Broke his own god-damn ankle, GET A MEDIC-"

Someone shoving past Ice on their way to the mess hall in a rush, causing Ice to stumble back literally 2 steps, and Slider getting in their face, slamming them into a wall with a "I swear you put your hands on Ice one more time, your not gonna have hands AT ALL"

He then slings his arm around Ice's shoulder and directs him to the mess hall, glaring at any poor soul who dared look in Ice's direction

They were at the bar and a woman started to approach Ice, who, of course was not noticing (he only has eyes for a 5'7" gremlin named Mav), and Slider shuts that down REAL QUICK. Like, no, not today Lilith, pick a different naval guy-

Give Mav The Talk when he notices Mav giving eyes to Ice, and Goose because Slider can never be too sure, and everyone observing this is sitting there like 'what the actual fuck' after Slider threatens to, and I quote, "French braid your fuckin' nervous system you shitty dwarf" towards Maverick amongst other colorful threats

It gets to the point where Slider is so protective over Ice, people don't ask Ice anything without looking to Slider for some kind of acceptance or denial, like;

Hollywood: Hey Ice do you wanna- Slider, the coldest look ever seen, actively dropping the temperature in the room while promising a slow and tortuous death: Hollywood: -help me figure out this trajectory angle equation for this [classified] mission? Ice, absolutely oblivious to the entire situation: Sure? I guess?

Its single-handedly the funniest and most terrifying thing to ever happen in Top Gun history, aside from whoever decided to put Maverick Mitchell in a plane

And the cherry on top is that Ice DOESN'T HAVE A CLUE at the entire situation

When someone tries saying how terrifying Slider is to Ice he just brushes it off, like, "Oh Slider? No he's very nice, he even walks with me wherever I have to go in the day. He's all bark and no bite"

And everyone in the immediate vicinity just looking at Ice either with pity or like he's stupid because he doesn't know

He never figures it out either

(This overprotectiveness doubles, if not triples when he meets baby Bradley Bradshaw, and Slider just cant compute because now there is another person who has my undying love and protection-)

(Goose once lost Bradley on a very important, very large Naval destroyer and the entirety of the Top Gun Class of '86 is frantically searching the entire ship before Viper finds out and one of them just stumbling into Slider sitting on a couch with Ice and Bradley just absolutely passed out, sleeping like a brick, essentially using him as human furniture, and the look Slider gives them promises a 100 years of death if they wake either of them up-)

(After Goose's death when baby Bradley lives with IceMav, he just clings onto Slider whenever he's over because "I feel safest with Pops, but Pops feels safest with Uncle Sli', so I'm safest-est with Uncle Sli'")

(Mav doesn't know whether to cry because that is so cute- or be annoyed that Slider is preferred over himself)

(After Bradley reconciles with Mav, he's caught sleeping(read absolutely dead to the world) on Slider's chest like when he was as a child and no one knowing what to do because "Rooster that is a 2-STAR ADMIRAL OF THE US NAVY-" Slider is just like "I'm safest-est", and Bradley sleepily chiming in with a "safest-est" and deciding to just go back to sleep like nothing happened)

[saessenach]

Runaway

Lyanna and Rhaegar, moments before a choice, commissioned by the lovely ASOIAFside

don't forget to click for better quality!

[arom-antix]

Time for the second installment! As the companion piece to this Valentines Day/White day reverse bang/bang event, I drew this adorable Makkachin based on the second chapter of @probablytoooldforthis's incredible fic Sweets for the Sweet for White Day! And now that you've been blessed by Makka's presence, I urge you to go read both this fic and the first chapter that was posted last month. You won't regret it!

And in case you're curious, the Valentines piece can be found here

[the-common-cowgirl]

Pairings: Modern Aemond Targaryen x (Third Person) AFAB Reader

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Major Character Death, Minor Character Death, Hurt/No Comfort, Angst, Longing, Fluff, Smut (Not Graphic), Some Swearing, Unhealthy Relationship Dynamics, Unhealthy Coping Methods, Depression

Word Count: 8266

Author’s Note: A modern Aemond smutty/fluffy One-Shot won the Valentine’s Day poll. I thought to myself, “what is more fluffy than a love that is only halted by death?” This fic is based on my favorite song “He Stopped Loving Her Today,” by George Jones.

“I’ll love you till I die.”

She turned to him, looking down and blushing. Sunlight danced through her lively hair as he gazed up at her from where his head rested on the blanket. “Is that so, Aemond Targaryen?”

He hummed, closing his eyes and smiling thoughtfully. The breeze was warm atop the hill they rested on. “You question my love?” His eye peeked open ever so slightly to see the silhouette of her face before the right shining sun, and because of this, he didn’t see her smile falter before feigning once more.

“We ought to get back. Mum will be looking for me-”

“She’ll never find us out here.” The tall prairie grass blew gently in the breeze. A sudden chill rode the wind and met them atop the hill above the town.

“It’s cold,” she stated plainly, looking around and rubbing her arms.

Aemond rose to a sitting position before encapsulating her in his arms and pulling her down atop him back onto the blanket. He felt her chest rise against his own, then exhaling a long sigh.

Something was wrong. Her demeanor was solemn today; like she wanted nothing more than to be alone; something Aemond could not comprehend now. He needed her like the late July crops needed rain. He couldn’t spend these last two weeks of summer vacation apart. He required her soft skin on his, her warm breath against his lips. His heart demanded to be fully enveloped in her until they separated; until that very last moment. 

“I don’t want to leave.” His hand wove into her hair, brushing through the locks tenderly as he confessed to her his feelings; more often he felt: his sins. The long battles arguing with his mother and grandfather about his future had been futile but that didn’t sway Aemond from initiating them. Pleading with them to let him attend University closer to home so he didn’t have to leave her. 

She moved to sit up but Aemond held her down gently against him with his arms holding tighter; not being able to bear the thought of her warmth leaving his chest.

“Aemond,” she warned, “I don’t want to talk about this. You’re leaving. It’s settled.” She laid back down with her cheek against his chest. He wondered silently for a moment if she could hear how his heart beat for her.

“I could stay,” he reasoned absentmindedly; knowing that there was no scenario in which he could keep his word to her and not be disowned by his family. “I could stay here with you.” The words leave his chest empty. Aemond knows it’s a desperate lie.

She doesn’t respond and for some reason, he’s grateful for that. The thought of giving her false hope makes him feel a deep guilt in his bones. He wished he never said it, yet, the words linger in the air, ignored. 

“Give me your phone,” she says as she rises from his chest to look him in the eye. Her soft smile warms him against the cold front closing in. “I want to take a picture of us. Here and now. I want this memory to last.”

Aemond reaches into his pocket, extracting his phone and hands it to her with a sly smirk. She leans back against his chest and raises the phone with both hands. He sees her pretty smile on the screen of the phone and instinctively looks down at her resting against his chest to see her in real time. She clicks the picture button before he can look at the camera and they laugh as they look at the picture, her smiling with him looking at her. “I’ll delete it and we can take another one-”

“No,” he protests, grabbing his phone from her before she could erase the moment from history, “I love it.”

She turns around smiling at him, before her eyes advert to behind Aemond and her smile drops from her face. “We ought to go now. It looks like the front is coming in.” 

Aemond turns around to see the dark clouds and what looks like a wall of rain closing in fast. The wind picks up against the grass upon their hill, almost flattening it. Their pink and red plaid blanket lifts up, threatening to fly away if it hadn’t been for their weight upon it holding it down. Aemond turns to her, offering his hand, “Let’s go.” A pain in his heart grows steadily as they descend the hill.

Their picture is the first thing Aemond unpacks in his dorm at Oldtown when he finally has everything moved in his room. The day is rainy as he calls her; she picks up on the first ring.

“Hello?”

He smiles and settles himself against the headboard of his bed, “Hey. I’m all settled in. How are things at home?”

He hears her sigh, “Mum’s angry that I picked up an extra shift tonight but I’m bored without you here.”

Her boredom makes his heart warm. Her boredom makes him feel wanted, loved. He feels selfish for smiling. “Well, countdown the days until fall break. That’s when your boredom will end and fun begins again.”

His new roommate enters the room, Aemond gives him a nod and his roommate makes an attempt to be quiet as he unpacks his suitcase. He suddenly feels as though he should get off the phone and introduce himself. “Hey, uh, I need to go but I’ll call you later. Okay?”

“Uh, yeah. Sure, Bye. Love you.” Her voice is uncertain.

“Love you, bye.”

Late summer turns into fall. The leaves turn from greens to vibrant reds and oranges, before falling and beginning their ceremonious rot. Aemond drives back for fall break and the first place he stops when he returns is her home. He knocks on her door with a rose in hand and it takes nearly a minute before her mother answers and Aemond politely asks for her with the rose still hidden behind. 

“Oh, I’m sorry Aemond. She’s got a new job. Did she not tell you? She’s working during the day now.”

 Disbelief races across Aemond’s mind, followed shortly by pain in his heart. “Uh no, he drops the hand holding the rose slightly, “she didn’t.”

Her mother offers him a soft, knowing smile before letting him know what time she’d be back from work. Aemond thanks her before descending down the front steps as the door closes behind him. November air swirls coldly around him as he walks back to his car. 

The rose sits waiting in the passenger seat as Aemond sits in the driver’s side and waits the hours he feels he has until her eventual arrival, a total of four hours after she supposedly clocked out. 

When she gets off the bus, Aemond bounds out of his car with a newfound vigor, excited to see her again despite the hours he’d waited. “Hey,” he says excitedly and she turns with a puzzled look on her face. His arms envelop her before she can register his presence and he squeezes her gently before releasing. On her face, a shocked expression remains as she offers an breathy smile.

“Aemond! I didn’t know you were coming back today,” her voice holds little animation as she fixes her hair. 

He disregards her lack of excitement. “I wanted to surprise you,” he holds out the rose that waited for her all these hours; wilted slightly. “Your mom told me you were working a new job? When did you get a new job? You didn’t tell me about that.”

She shifts, the wind blows a lock of her hair free and it tickles across her face. Her hand comes up to remove the hair and tucks it behind her ear again. “I didn’t want to bother you with it. You’re pretty busy with your studies and all-”

Aemond shakes his head, silver hair blowing gently in the breeze. “I’m not so busy that I can’t be bothered with the updates of your life. You matter to me.” His hand reached for hers and she quickly pulled back and tucked her hands into the pockets of her coat. 

“Sorry then, about that. I just assumed that I was a bother to you.”

His brows furrowed gently in confusion, “Why would you ever think that?”

She shook her head, “Nevermind. Anyway, let’s get inside. It’s cold.”

During Fall Break, the two saw much of each other, however, Aemond noticed a difference in her demeanor. The way she laughed held less mirth, her smile was softer now, less bright, her eyes didn’t crinkle the same way they used to when she smiled. Fall  had made her colder.

Aemond felt as if he was doing the wrong thing leaving again, but she willed him to go; stating that everything was fine and this is what was best for their future.

Fall turned into Winter and soon, finals were over and Aemond returned home again. First, stopping at her house. As he ascended the stairs to her front porch, she opened the door greeting him in her fuzzy blue robe. His mood was ecstatic as she smiled and told him her mother and siblings were out and they had the house alone to themselves for a few hours.

His hands raced into her hair as they broke through her bedroom door in a hurried motion, desperate for the other’s touch as they fell upon the bed. His mouth fell upon her neck, her hands grasped the base of his head. “I love you,” fell from his lips as his hands found her breasts underneath her clothing and “I missed you,” tumbled from his chest as her hands found the buttons of his pants.

She only replied with breathy “I know” as he confessed to her amidst their needy coupling. He’d take what she offered him greedily and did not complain for he knew the distance put a strain on their relationship.

He entered her in one long, slow motion; reveling in the warmth of her he had missed so desperately. Her head fell back against the pillow as he seated himself deep within her, unmoving. 

“Gods- Please, Aemond. Move!” She demanded so sweetly yet he denied her briefly to kiss her face and cupped it gently between his hands.

“I love you,” he said, expecting her to return the vow.

Her flushed face fell flat as she gazed at him. “Aemond-” her voice filled with regret, “I…love you too. Now please-” Her hips grinded against his own, causing his cock to rub against the velvety walls of her core and her to groan in satisfaction.

Aemond felt his heart shatter from the ingenuine enthusiasm. Surely the reason for it was desperation, not true, genuine, real feelings. Surely she was just needy, just wanting, just sexually frustrated. Of course, it had to be that he reasoned. Distance had put a strain on them both too. He recounted the nights he spilled into his hand while away, wishing it had been her. He assumed the same for her. She didn’t have the patience for words right now. 

So he pleasured her, he angled himself to hit her spots the right way that had her clenching around him in white hot ecstasy in little time. Her body convulsed and squeezed him but his body didn’t respond; his mind too busy to complete.

“You didn’t?” She asked, pulling the covers around herself as he pulled from her and slipped his pants back on.

He shook his head, buttoning his jeans. “No but you did and that’s all that matters.” 

He heard her sigh and returned to her bed, wrapping his arms around her and laying down. “I’m content just laying here with you, being in your presence-”

“I need to go get ready.” She stood from the bed and his embrace suddenly, his arms falling flat against the sheets with her floral scent lingering behind to comfort him.

“I thought you worked days? It’s nearly four in the evening. What do you have to do?” He sat up in her bed, studying her as she stripped down and grabbed some jeans and a sweater from her dresser. 

“I’m gonna go out with some friends tonight.”

“Why?” He felt so lost and confused.

“I just-” she stopped, jaw fixed as she looked across the room and refused to make eye contact with him. “I just don’t want to be with you tonight. Y’know, I have a life outside of you. Just like you have one outside of me.”

Aemond shook his head, “You are my life. I don’t want to be anywhere except by your side.”

She scoffed before pulling on her sweater, still refusing to meet his eyes. 

Hurt boiled inside him like putrid water. “I mean it. You mean everything to me.”

Her eyes finally met his, sharp and filled with hot tears. “Then why did you leave? Why did you leave me?”

His breathing stopped and his heart went stale. Shock absorbed him. “You-I…You know why I left. I had to. I went away for us. So we can have a better life.”

She scoffed again, “A better life? What about my life is so bad? You could have stayed here with me, gone to college here and chose me. But you didn’t, did you? You chose what your family wanted.”

“I don’t understand, you wanted me to go?”

“I wanted you to go because I thought I was being selfless but Aemond…I can’t do this. I can’t be selfless with you. I wanted you here, with me. I wanted you to choose me! But I see this is the way it’ll always be with you, won’t it? You’ll choose your family, money and power and I’ll always come after, won’t I?” Hot tears spilled down her cheeks, soaking the collar of her sweater.

He had to fix this, had to make it right, so in the moment…Aemond came up with a solution he believed was right. “Marry me. Marry me and move to Oldtown. We can get an apartment near campus and-”

“And leave my mom?” Her voice was full of disbelief at his simple solution. “Aemond, the world isn’t always black and white. I can’t just leave my mom and my siblings-”

“I can help pay for them too,” he offered, “ I can send money every week and-”

“Aemond!” Her eyes were bloodshot and sharp, “Money is not the answer to everything. I need to stay here and look after them when she’s not here. I- ugh” He heard her mumble, “There is no use in arguing with you about this,” as she grabbed her floral perfume and sprayed her neck.

He stood from the bed and tried to grab her hand, make her turn and talk to him. “Please-”

“No, Aemond,” she cried, “we are from two opposite worlds. This isn’t bound to last.”

“Please, I love you, I’ll try. I want to be with you. I can’t imagine my life without you.” He pleaded, nearly falling to his knees as he grasped her hands desperately. Tears formed in his remaining eye. “I love you,” his voice spoke with defeat and finality. 

A shaky sigh escaped her lungs. “You’ll forget in time.” Pulling her hands from him, he felt the chill of her absence in the room. She was resigned to her decision.

“I don’t-” he looked up to her, eye blurred with the veil of tears. “Are we- what is this?”

“We’re done.” Her voice was ice. “Please leave.”

Winter break came and went. Aemond felt like there was a hole in his heart that would never be able to heal and when he returned from break, he saw their picture on his dorm room wall. The memory pained him, ripping more pieces from his heart. How warm their picnic had started; how beautiful the day. He remembers her gentle smile, the crinkles around her eyes as she laughed deep from her belly. He remembers holding her hands in his as he thrusted into her on that soft pink and red plaid blanket and how they breathily held each other as they came down from their respective highs. He remembers the chill picking up just before this picture was taken and the clouds afterward. But most of all, he remembered how he had lied to her and offered the false hope of staying; how he regretted that comment now. 

He plucked their frame from the wall and extracted the picture from its casing. Folding himself out of view so it was just her, he put the picture back into the frame and hung it on the wall. He’d let her haunt him. He’d let her memory haunt him. She’d tear at the hole, desperately trying to escape his heart but as long as he kept her memory fresh, he’d never let her out. He had to hold something in place of the destruction their love caused and that had to be the memory of her.

Valentine’s Day was fast approaching and Helaena had made the trip to visit Aemond at University so he didn’t have to spend the day alone for the first time in two years. They met at a small cafe on campus at midday and once small talk ceased, Helaena had asked the question that had been gnawing at her mind. “How have you been?”

Aemond shrugged before sipping his coffee and looking down to the left of her eyesight, “Fine, I suppose.”

“Fine?” She repeated softly, making sure she understood the definition of his ‘fine.’

Aemond nodded, “Yeah, fine. I figured-” He wanted to trail off, stop there but he felt he could open up to Helaena. “I figured once I get this year done here, I’ll transfer to a college closer to home and maybe, I don’t know-” the words felt like glass in his throat, “maybe I can try to get her back.”

Helaena sighed, her hand reached across the table and rested upon Aemond’s. “Aem, I don’t think that’s a good idea. Maybe just put her to rest-”

“No,” he cut, slightly offended, “I love her. I still love her. We can make this work if I am closer, I can be better, do better.”

“Aemond, she’s engaged.”

A strange pain stung in his chest, he felt like he was going to have a heart attack. His eye looked to his sister’s, trying to find any semblance of a lie; he found genuine pain as well. “What?”

Helaena nodded, rubbing her thumb across Aemond’s gently, trying to soothe him. “She’s engaged. She brought back the things you had left at her house and I saw the ring and I asked.”

“When?”

“Two weeks after you two broke up.”

Aemond was in such a state of shock he didn’t remember rising from his seat or abandoning Helaena in the cafe. He didn’t remember getting back to his dorm nor dialing the number he hadn’t dialed in over a month. 

She answered with, “Aemond. You shouldn’t be calling,” breaking him from his trance.

“I-uh…I need to know if it’s true.” His voice now shook. Aemond couldn’t remember the last time his voice shook.

“If what’s true?” Her usual honeyed voice was full of venom.

“Are you engaged?”

Silence met him at the other end of the line and it stayed that way for so long, Aemond worried he had lost the call. That was, until he heard her sigh, “Yes.”

In his haze, his words spilled from his lips before he could speak. “Were you cheating on me?”

He hears her scoff. “It doesn’t matter now, does it?”

“It matters, it matters to me.” His voice cracks with the weight of yearning, he needs a reason to be angry with her, to hate her. Maybe that would help him heal. 

He hears a shaking sigh come from within the phone, “No. I mean- emotionally maybe. But not physically. I couldn’t- I still can’t.” He thinks she trails off because the line goes silent but he hears muffled sobs and the pain in his heart stings for her. 

“I still-” his throat is choked with the words he knows he shouldn’t say, “I still love you.”

He hears her sniffling before the line goes dead. He tries calling again but it goes straight to voicemail. He tries a second time and a third before the line quits ringing all together. His phone goes flying across the room, hitting the wall and bouncing onto his bed along with her picture in its frame. He picks up the picture, barely visible behind his tears and grasps it against his chest as he lulls himself to sleep with deep sobs that winter evening.

Late Winter turns into early Spring, which turns to late Spring and Aemond’s first year of college is complete. He packs his belongings in boxes, her picture packed safely at the top of the final box. Moving back home for the Summer was something he dreaded since the middle of Winter but as the months went by, he looked forward to the warm breeze he had once shared with the woman he loved; the woman he still loves.

His first week back in his home was a discomfort he was not used to yet expected all the same. To aid this discomfort, Aemond spent most of his days out of the house, on the beach or on the sea. Somewhere where he could feel the wind dancing within his hair in solitude and appreciate the loneliness for once; his appreciation was never long lived.

On one particular day, Aemond passed by a little church, her church. He hadn’t meant to but old habits die hard and before he knew it, his hands were making a right turn when he really meant for a left. Outside, he saw people decorating with pink and red flowers. Some of those people he knew, then, he saw her mom and his heart sunk. Pulling his car into the parking lot of the little white church, jumped out of his car in a haste without care or concern for how he may appear. Her mother saw him approaching and nearly dropped the flowers she was fastening to the railing. 

“Aemond,” she warned loudly as he approached, making the other ladies that were helping turn their heads, “She doesn’t want to see you, Aemond.” 

‘She doesn’t want to see you’ meant she was here and by the way some of the younger ladies were forming a barrier on the steps meant she was inside. He kept approaching.

“I just want to talk to her,” he reasoned.

“You need to leave,” a woman standing on the steps of the church told him.

He stopped before the blockade of women, not wanting to push through but deciding he would if he had to. “Please just let me-”

Then, he saw her emerge from the doors behind the women. Their eyes locked and he swore he felt a divine joy he had never felt in his life. He looked up to her and pleaded, using her full name.

She sighed and told him to come inside. The pack of ladies parted with no less judgment and sorrow on their faces than before. He followed quickly behind her to a secluded little room in the back of the church that looked like an office mixed with a library.

She crossed her arms, a small sheen of sweat beat down her brow. Her hair was tied back and a bandana was worn across her crown. She stood in jean shorts, old ratty running shoes and a tank top - just as she was the day they met four years ago. 

“If you’re here to talk me out of it-”

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t, but I know at this point, it would be a futile attempt.” Her stance softened slightly, taken aback by his confession. “Yet I suppose, I am a fool and despite knowing I will most likely fail, I need you to know that I still love you. That has never changed nor will it ever. I meant it when I said it. I will love you till I die.”

She scoffed, her arms crossing tighter around her chest, “And I meant it when I said that you’ll forget in time. Aemond, stop dragging this out.”

“Why? Why are you marrying him?”

Her eyes narrowed, offended with the question, “I don’t owe you an answer.”

“No you don’t but an answer might be all I need to get over this heartbreak I feel everyday of this goddamn life. I love you. You loved me once. You’ve never given me a good answer for any of this and I exist here, in the same world as you do, everyday, holding you in my heart as I have no other. Yet, you’ve offered me no explanation as to why I was plucked from your own. What have I done other than try my best? I made a mistake by leaving but I promise, if you allow me to try again, I will never make that mistake again. Or any, I will be perfect, I can be perfect for you. Just please,” a sob threatened in his chest. “I feel as though I will never recover. I worry I will take this pain and this love with me to the grave if you do not allow me to retry or tell me why.  Kill me now and be done with it.”

Tears brimmed her eyes as she walked past him and escaped the room they shared. He had poured his heart out all for naught and the emptiness chilled his bones. He had done everything he could and hoped that somehow, it had made a difference. Maybe tonight, as she laid in her floral scented bed, she’d think of his words and change her mind. Choose him or finally cut the string. Realizing he had sunk to his knees, Aemond arose and walked out of that church alone and defeated yet with a new smaller hope growing deep in his belly.

The next day, he sat in the parking lot of the church with his belongings in the back of his car, waiting for her to emerge; waiting for an answer. When she walked out of the church with her husband locked in her arm, a floral bouquet in her hand and that beautiful white dress on, surrounded by people celebrating her union to another man, Aemond left his hometown and never returned.

Years went by and she still preyed upon his mind. He searched for her in other women but nothing felt the same. How could anything compare to her? Their scent was never sweet enough. Their skin was never soft enough. Their moans were never as desperate and needy as her own and his name on their lips never sounded quite right. After some time, Aemond halted his pursuit of pleasures of the flesh for the flesh he yearned for was promised to another.

He felt his grip on reality slip from time to time. He began seeing her in the corner of his eye while seated at home, alone on his couch. Sometimes he’d even hear her voice calling to him from his dreams. And when he dreamt? He dreamt of Summer, warmth, the sun burning their skin as they rolled along the grassy hill entangled in each other's arms. Waking would be his nightmare.

Years had passed and some hair atop his head had thinned somewhat. He had just watched his youngest nephew, Maelor, graduate from University and that’s when he saw her. Standing for a photo beside a boy with the same hair color as her own. He towered above her in his graduation gown, her in a white blouse and yellow skirt. Subtle lines appeared where her smile creased and her eyes held a gentle age that made Aemond jealous of those who were able to witness time mature her. 

Her familiar eyes meet his, as if drawn by some magnetic force that binds the two whenever the other is near enough to feel the pull. Then, as suddenly as it happened, her eyes dart away, grabbing the boy in the graduation gown’s arm and telling him something. A person passed before Aemond’s vision in the crowded hall and when he spotted her and the boy again, their backs turned as they were walking away; heading for an exit. Aemond sped up, pushing a girl in a graduation  gown aside, nearly knocking her over. He heard people yelling behind him as he pursued his love blindly. He didn’t know what he’d say to her but he knew, simply hearing her voice again would be all he needed to set the world right.

A body knocked into him from the side, causing him to lose him balance and fall sideways to the ground. “Oh man, I’m sorry sir,” a younger boy in a wrinkled dress shirt apologized as he reached a hand down to help Aemond up. He swatted the boy’s hand away as he stood, looking toward the exit where she had disappeared. Many people were filing out of the crowded graduation hall and none of them were her. Without dropping his pursuit, he pushes past the people in line to leave and out the doors. Once outside, he searches for her; her hair, her voice, her laugh…any trace of her. 

He finds people taking pictures with their grown children, he finds smiles and laughter, he finds happiness. 

He doesn’t find her.

His heart sinks from the elevation of the mere prospect of hearing her voice again to the depths of anguish when he’s deprived of the life held behind her saccharine smile. The sun shines down on the people around him but Aemond feels cold, like a dark cloud lingering only above him and preventing the warmth from touching his skin.

That night, after Aemond leaves the graduation party for his nephew, he parks his car in the driveway of his quaint home. The car beeps as he rounds the corner to his front door, freezing in the pale moonlight.

She was sitting on his front steps. Her eyes looked up and met his one and the moonlight glimmered against her eyes, highlighting the soft tears she held.

His heart hammered a cold thrum. “What are you doing here? How did you-”

 She looks down, playing with the rings on her hands: three of them and not residing on the fourth of her left.

“My uh- son is friends with your nephew, he texted him and got your address.” Age had touched her voice, deepened it slightly, less breathy. Like she had finally stopped running and filled her lungs.

 A faint breeze blew between them, reminding Aemond that he was still standing; hovering above her like a hawk. Suddenly aware of this (and never wanting to come across as a predator to her) he moved to sit beside her at a respectable distance on the stoop. She kept turning the rings on her fingers and did not look at him.

“I want to apologize for not speaking to you today…” she begins with trepidation and he knew she’d give him an excuse that he’d accept regardless of how weak because despite these years of pain and yearning, he had never stopped loving her with the fault of forgiveness akin to an abused beast who had only ever known love by the same hand that taught him pain. “I just couldn’t do that in front of him.” Aemond nodded, understanding that ‘him’ meant the boy in the graduation gown, her son. And by ‘do that’ she meant ‘I couldn't revive a conversation with the man I’d once loved,’ or so Aemond hoped that is what she meant.

“I understand.” In truth, he didn’t. If the cards were flipped, Aemond would have sought out her in that crowded hall and held her taut in front of all those present; regardless of if his child or children were present. But that was the difference between them, their paths divided due to a reason not robust enough for Aemond’s understanding and she got married, had at least one child. She did all the things Aemond had reserved for only her and in doing so, ripped Aemond from those chances at more; this was the only transgression he’d ever hold her to. 

“I’m sorry-” she says this as abruptly as she stands, wiping her tear duct carefully with a single finger as to not smudge her makeup, “I don’t know why I even came-”

Aemond stands and takes her hand in his without permission or consent, as if he still had a claim to her skin as he did all those years ago. “No, stay. Please.” His eye pleads with her alongside his tongue. He wants to say more but he is worried to sound too eager. Worried she’d spook and fly away like a lost dove. 

Her head shakes but her eyes tell another truth: she wants to stay too. “Aemond, I can’t. I shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t be here disturbing your peace-”

“I haven’t known peace since the day you decided to walk out of my life.” His mouth moves before his brain does and he regrets the truth as it tumbles from his heart yet he can’t find it in himself to apologize.

Her face is shocked as her eyes well up with hot tears. “You can’t blame me for ending our relationship. Aemond,” she pleads and grasps his other hand to look up at him with wide eyes, “we were not compatible.”

He grasps both of her hands tightly in his own. “Compatibility is a farce. I could've changed to have been anything you wanted, anything you needed me to be. You didn’t allow me to do that. You gave me no warning.”

She pulls her hands from his grip. “Aemond,” her voice raising in defiance, “that line of thinking is exactly why I knew I had to end our fling!” The word ‘fling’ stung his heart more than it should have. “You moved to college and I grew up while you were gone! I would have never asked you to change yourself for me Aemond. Do you know how childish that line of thinking is? Did you ever grow up in the years that have passed or have you always been the same boy I loved back when?”

Hurt and confused, “I’m childish because I believe in love?” His pain blinded him, “Maybe if you believed in love you’d still have a husband!” 

It was a low-blow, he knew it. His apology started tumbling from his lips as soon as he said it and saw the stinging pain and shocked expression on her face. She held a hand up, halting his words. “How did you know that?”

“What?”

“How did you know I’m getting a divorce?” 

In truth, he didn’t. But she had always been fond of jewelry. Even when he’d get her cheap necklaces out of the coin operated vending machines on their dates together, she’d wear them proudly until they broke. 

“You aren't wearing a ring on that finger.”

She looks down to her hands, a choked laugh spills from her lips as she plays with the indented skin of where a ring had been. “You were always so perceptive.”

“I’m sorry-” he begins to apologize again but she looks up at him with a face full of defeat.

“It’s been in the works for a while now, y’know? He wanted to wait until our son graduated.”

Aemond nods, now feeling uncomfortable. He shifts slightly before deciding to sit back on the stoop, hoping his retreat will make her feel less threatened. 

She sits on the stoop again, this time, closer but somehow the air between them feels colder.

“Was he good to you?” 

She nods. “He never gave me reason to be upset. He was a good husband, provided for us when I had to stay home with the kids. He was kind, a good listener. He made me feel valued and when we had enough money, he bought us a big house with two bathrooms. We were happy.”

‘Were.’

“What changed?” He dared ask it but he had to know.

She looked down to her hands again, fiddling with the skin at the base of her fourth finger. “Our daughter died.” She said it so plainly, as if it were a simple fact and not a soul crushing thing for her to have gone through. He feels a pain in his chest, not for the girl he never knew, but for the woman he loved to have gone through something so traumatic. 

“After she died, our connection seemed to wither and crumble. I don’t know if it was him or I that initiated the loss in communication, I just knew the night our son moved to college and we were alone in that big house for the first time ever, that our marriage wasn’t going to last much longer.” She reached up and wiped a tear that threatened to slide down her face. “Our daughter was supposed to be there with us. We weren’t supposed to be ‘empty-nesters’ yet. I realized that our marriage was built upon our children and having lost a pillar, we weren’t stable. There was nothing between us connecting our lives. We existed in that house together with the ghost of our daughter and the memory of our son as the only ties that bound us. And when you think hard about it, how long can a ghost and a memory tie someone to another?”

Too long, Aemond thought selfishly of himself.

“So now that he’s leaving the house for good, we are finally calling it quits.” She adds as if she’s reading the newspaper.

“What are you going to do?” He sneaks a look over to her, a bubble of hope in his chest.

She’s aware of his view but she doesn’t reciprocate. “I’m not getting into something again. I’ve built my home upon pillars of sand and out of straw. I think it’s time to find a strong foundation and a sturdy home. I suppose the only way to do that is through myself.”

“Are you reserved to building your sturdy home so small that only you’re allowed in?”

She nods unapologetically. “I’m not here for you, Aemond. I’m not letting you in. I'm here for me. I never got to say good-bye in that church, never allowed myself to and I’m here to say-”

“Don’t.”

“Why? Wouldn’t it be easier if we finally say goodbye? For good?”

He sighs, “I’d rather spend my whole life loving you without a goodbye than for you to say it and crush my hope.”

“You shouldn’t have hope for what can’t be, Aemond.”

“That’s what hope is.” 

Her eyes met his and they lingered with an understanding that whatever once existed between them was still there, even if it lingered on hospice, something was still alive. 

The next seconds are a blur. Her hand fell into his, his mouth invaded her own, his other hand skimmed into her hair and pulled her closer. His front door is unlocked and he pushes her through it, down the hall to his bed. When she falls into the soft mattress, he descends upon her without giving her time to think. Wound up in passion and need, they fell into a vicious game, one where the only wounds here that bleed are on the inside, long since scarred over but never healed properly. The two push their carnal desire toward the front of their thoughts to drown out the objections of clarity. Maybe this once, they’d allow themselves to give into what they once were before the pain, before the rejection, before the betrayal. Maybe they can be how they were before love had come between them. Maybe this once, they can just be two bodies in the night that feel so right against one another. Push aside their feelings and simply feel; if only for this once.

The pale moonlight shone throughout the house as Aemond rose to get a glass of water. Barefeet padded gently out of the bedroom, afraid to wake her from her exhaustion induced slumber. The cabinet opened and shut with the faintest creek and the water sloshed gently into the cup and when Aemond turned around, she spooked him standing in the archway to his kitchen, clothing back on.

“Did I wake you?” His voice was hoarse and did not hide his fear well.

“Yeah,” she looked behind her toward the front door, “I needed to be gone a long time ago though.” She glanced back toward the door.

“Don’t leave yet. It’s the middle of the night. Stay here till morning.”

She shook her head. “This was a mistake. I need to be home before anyone notices I didn’t come home last night-”

“Stay,” Aemond pleaded as he set the full glass down, “please.”

Even in the shadows, moonlight not quite reaching her features, Aemond saw her eyes, downcast and defeated. “Sure.”

Without another word, Aemond scooped her into his arms and returned her back to his bed where he held her tightly, afraid she’d slip through his grasp yet again. Aemond had never prayed much as an adult, however, that night…he prayed silently with her in his arms.

When he awoke, he knew it was for naught. His bed was void of warmth in the heat of the sun rays dancing through his windows. 

He never saw her again.

In his sixty-eighth year of life, on a warm morning in late September, Aemond Targaryen awoke for the last time. He pulled some old letters from a box beside his bed, as he did nearly every week or so in his growing age, and read each one, pausing to smile every time he came across the phrase “I love you” that he had underlined in red ink many decades ago. Aemond was content with memories now. When he finished reading and reminiscing, he touched her picture one last time the way he did every morning; the one that hung on his bedroom wall and had followed him to every bedroom since college. Then, went onto his back patio with a cool glass of water to watch sunlight bathe the landscape in warm light and the plants awaken. At twelve past eight, the glass fell from his hands, shattering on the patio. His body would be found by his elder sister Helaena who was coming to visit him later that day from her home halfway across the continent. She was to attend a cardiologist appointment with him the next day; a rather hurried appointment amidst rapidly growing concerns for his failing heart. 

His funeral was a grand affair, as expected of a Targaryen, and despite the grandiose of the visitation, the attendance was picked thin. Aegon, Aemond’s eldest brother, stood furthest from the casket, refusing to look anywhere near where his brother lay. Helaena, stood diligently by his side even in death and strangely offered her condolences to the few people that ventured their way to the casket to say their goodbyes. Daeron, the youngest, sat next to their mother, Alicent, who rested in a wheelchair in the front row, refusing to take her eyes away from her third child’s final bed. 

Helaena hand’s were just unclasping from one of Aemond’s former work colleagues when Aegon approached the casket for the first time and spoke in a hurried tone into his sister’s ear. “She’s here.”

“Who?” Helaena looked around as she tried to find who Aegon was talking about but his eyes remained glued on the corpse of his younger brother, seeing him lying peacefully in the casket for the first time today. He felt a wave of shock, guilt and fear course through him. “Who, Aegon,” Helaena asked again but Aegon needed not to answer because Helaena’s eyes landed on the woman who caused Aegon to finally approach their brother’s body. “Oh,” was all she said and her eyes drifted to Aegon who was taking in the presence of Aemond for the first time without his brother truly being with them. Helaena grabbed his shoulder, “Aeg, you alright?”

A strange smile crossed his profile as he looked on, “He looks like he’s smiling almost.”

Helaena glanced over, Aemond’s lips did seem to have an upwards lilt that she only previously attributed to the moritician’s work of making him look younger, more angelic. She nodded, “Yeah, I suppose so.”

Aegon finally looked sideways to Helaena, his blue wrinkled eyes brimmed with tears. He had something to say yet the words never came. 

They’re broken from their unspoken conversation when they feel her presence approach. Helaena’s eyes drift to her; oh how time has changed her. Her once vibrant hair is now graying, her skin dull and wrinkled. She dresses more conservatively now, hiding how her body has aged. Helaena felt a rare strike of anger flood through her body; vexed that the only woman Aemond had ever loved had deprived him of coddling her in his arms as time aged them together. 

“Hi,” she gave a curt nod, not taking her eyes off the man in the casket whom she had loved once. “I um,” she reached up and wiped her nose with a tissue that was nearly completely soiled by now, “came to see him this one last time.”

Helaena nodded toward the casket, “go see him then.” 

As she approached with Helaena’s permission, Aegon leaned into her ear. “I wondered if she would come.”

Helaena watched as the only woman Aemond had ever loved placed a hand on his body and a kiss on his cheek. “We all did.”

Just before the funeral was about to begin, Helaena stepped outside, wanting to find some relief in solitude and a cigarette. Lighting it up, she got a single puff before she was joined by Aemond’s old lover. They stood in silence for sometime, Helaena had no wish to talk to the woman, still angry at how she had left her brother all those decades ago and how he tortured himself.

“I feel bad,” she heard the shaky voice beside her but did not turn, “I feel like I’ve wasted my life now that he’s gone. And the worst part about it is I feel like I killed him yet, I only feel sympathy for myself.”

“Death is not something we mourn for those who exist in it; it’s something we mourn for ourselves. Lost opportunities for things unsaid and missed experiences. Human nature is inherently selfish.”

The early fall air was thick between the two as they stood outside the funeral home. Helaena knew she made her uncomfortable but she couldn’t find it in her to care, not anymore. 

“I’d like to think I was selfless.”

Helaena smirked, dropping her cigarette and twisting it into the pavement with the toe of her boot.

“Old habits die hard.” Her mouth twisted at the sour words. Helaena knew she shouldn’t hate this woman for the decisions she made nearly a lifetime ago. So, despite her gut feeling, Helaena offered her own version of words of encouragement. “You know, my brother never blamed you for what you did.”

She smiled a sad smile and dropped her head, “I wish he did…that would have made today easier.”

Some leaves fell from a tree, landing between them. “He loved you through it all. There wasn’t a day that went by that he stopped. Y’know, when we started going through his house yesterday. Terrible job for a sibling to do by the way…it should be a kid’s job to go through their parent’s house. Learn things about them they never knew while they clean up the evidence of their parent’s past to make room for new life in the home once occupied. But I digress, Aemond never had kids, never had anyone…anyone but the ghost of you.”  

The soiled napkin rose to her face again, wiping away the evidence of tears and snot. 

“But today,” Helaena nearly laughed at the irony, “he stopped loving you today. They’ll place a wreath upon his door, carry him away and place him into the ground. He’ll be over you for good this time. Nothing awaits him in the soil. Not pain or longing. He’ll stop this senseless romance when he’s buried. And to me, that makes me feel better. No more torment, no more love. Just death. Just peace; for once.”

She looked up at the sky, trying to blink away tears. “I told him he’d forget in time.” The confession was a whisper on her lips, perhaps to the Gods, Helaena or herself. “Time…” she repeated to herself quietly.

Aegon stepped out of the funeral home, shouting for Helaena that they were ready to start. Helaena nodded and turned to Aemond’s only love, “Are you coming?”

She closed her eyes, head still tilted toward the sky. “No, I think I overstayed my welcome.”

Aegon gave the eulogy, co-workers and a few old friends carried his casket with a wreath of white flowers sitting upon it to the hearse. In the cemetery, they lowered the body of Aemond Targaryen into the ground. Not a soul noticed the woman in black who lingered on the outskirts of the crowd; for the first time since she was a young woman, no one thought of her.

The world felt lonely.

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[shit-sorry-fuck-mybad]

Slider has always known, Slider has eyes and a functioning enough brain to realize that Ice is completely obsessed with Maverick, Slider knows things, he’s the guy that’s always there

The first time they properly met Maverick Slider could already tell that he would be a pain in his ass, Ice started that flirty teasing, Slider knew that Ice meant for it to sound mean, he wanted to rile him up and play his game, but something about it was just off, the tension was way too thick for it to go unnoticed, he always wandered if Goose could feel it too. Still, he didn’t say anything, Ice could figure it out later

The bite was just unnecessary, Slider could tell that Mav was just as invested in this as his pilot was, they were dancing around each other like a weird fucking mating ritual, then Ice decides to do a bite, he obviously meant for it to be threatening, he knows that, but to Slider it just looked really gay, but he doesn’t bring it up, he shouldn’t bring it up, right? Ice trusts him. He still tries to push it, he asks him if he’s ok, that he needs to be careful and concentrate on their goal, Ice looks at him like he’s trying to figure something out, he turns and says “don’t worry about me, I know what I’m doing”

He does not in fact not what he’s doing, he catches feelings, it’s not just attraction, it’s not about sex, no, Ice cares about Maverick, Slider sees it in the way that he looks at him, he sees how much Ice wants to comfort Mav, how he looks at him when they get in their planes, how he tries to make sure he’s ok, that he’s safe, he cares, not just as a pilot

They make it back and Ice and Mav get worse, he truly didn’t think it was possible, “you can be my wingman any time” “bullshit you can be mine” that shit might as well be a love confession, and Slider realizes that it’s not just Ice that caught feeling, they’re both in love. But they don’t talk about it, Slider doesn’t bring it up, Ice will tell him, he knows that when he’s ready he’ll tell him

Slider is getting tired of waiting, it’s been about five years since they graduated top gun and Slider is getting really tired of this bullshit, sometimes Ice can’t hang out because he needs to “do something” Slider thinks that’s a weird nickname for Mav, sometimes when they all get together Ice will sit next to Mav, close enough so that their shoulders touch and they’ll spend the night talking to each other, laughing at secret jokes and looking at each other like they’re the most precious thing they’ve ever seen, Slider decides that he’s limiting the time Ice has to finally tell him, he really can’t take more of this “we think we’re great at keeping secrets” little act

A year later Slider has had a enough, Ice is buying groceries and Slider goes with him and when he sees Ice pick up some disgustingly sweet cookies he knows something’s up, Ice doesn’t like those cookies, so he asks, and Ice casually says “oh, Mav loves them” and he snaps, this cannot keep going, so he grabs him by the shoulders and looks him dead in the eye and tells him “I swear to god… I swear to fucking god Kazansky that if you don’t tell me that you’re fucking Maverick then I’m going to walk away and you’ll never hear from me again, I’ve had 6 years of you two being all stupid and in love and I have reached my limit, why won’t you fucking tell me, just tell me, please” Ice freezes, he opens and closes his mouth several times before he takes a deep breath, nods and shrugs “I’m fucking Maverick” Slider let’s out a sigh and pulls Ice into a hug “thank god for that” and it’s finally over

It’s not over, Slider soon finds out that knowing about Ice and Mav without them knowing that he knows is way better than knowing about them and them knowing he knows, because now he actually has to play “best friend of your boyfriend”, he’s the guy Mav asks what to get Ice for his birthday, he’s the guy that Ice whines to about Mav, he’s the guy that has lied countless times for their asses, he’s the guy that needs to be there when Ice wants to propose, he’s the guy that has to endure hours of ring shopping with an insufferably nervous Ice, he’s the guy that has to execute their proposal plan to perfection, yes, even when Ice decides to change it last minute, he’s the guy that needs to make sure that their little backyard wedding is absolutely perfect, he’s the guy that has to write the greatest best man speech anyone has ever heard, he’s the guy that has to give all his parenting advices to Ice when Bradley comes into their lives, he’s the guy that has to tell Bradley all the embarrassing stories about them, he’s the guy that has to help Bradley sneak out of their house to go to a party, he’s the guy that has to be there for Ice when Bradley leaves, he’s the guy that has to help Mav deal with Ice’s cancer, he’s the guy that hugs Ice until neither of them can breath when he’s officially cancer free, he’s the guy that has to give an even better best man speech when they get married again, legally this time, he’s the guy that cries his eyes out when Ice gets his second diagnosis, he’s the guy that holds his hand when he’s dying, he’s the guy that has to be there at the funeral to make sure everything’s in order, just like Ice would’ve wanted it, he’s the guy that has to shake hands with people he doesn’t know because “yes he was a great guy”, he’s the guy that has to make sure Mav is alright after Ice is gone

He’s the guy, he’s always known and he’s always been there

[firenati0n]

wip wednesday :) :) :)

i have 3 wip docs open (help) but today y'all get some more proposal au currently titled "the full spectrum of human emotion" <3 here is the snippet i posted on sunday as well :) i wrote this between the hours of 2 - 4am so forgive any errors xoxo

Alex rolls his eyes. “You're gonna have to get used to me touching you, Henry. We're engaged. Our immigration officer is operating under the assumption that I’m literally inside you on a regular basis—” “Excuse me?” “—which means you can't squirm or freeze every time I hold your fucking hand.”   Henry’s jaw ticks. “Can we...erm...can we establish some ground rules?” His face is mildly terrified and paler than usual. Good. He should be. “Ground rules? It's PDA, not the fucking Olympics.” Alex is feeling less optimistic by the second. They’re so fucked.  “Alex, please.” Henry looks pained, and Alex feels only a little bit of pity. It’s not just his job on the line, it’s Henry’s livelihood too. “Fine. Nothing below the belt, hands where everyone can see them, and no tongue.” For now, his brain adds, like the traitorous bitch it is. “But I’m not going to jail on a goddamn felony charge because you can’t handle being a little handsy. We clear?”    Henry nods, face resolute. “Also, why would they assume it’s you inside me, and not the other way around?” Alex stares at him, unflinching. “Do you really want me to answer that question, sweetheart?”

sorry if i missed any posts already due to timezone and dashboard fuckery! but no pressure tagging @ninzied @rmd-writes @inexplicablymine @anincompletelist @myheartalivewrites @suseagull04 @priincebutt @sparklepocalypse @kiwiana-writes @onward--upward @nocoastposts @user-anakin @wordsofhoneydew @littlemisskittentoes @happiness-of-the-pursuit @matherines @lizzie-bennetdarcy @celeritas2997 @dragonflylady77 @sherryvalli @gayrootvegetable @ssmtskw @affectionatelyrs @tinyarmedtrex and open tag to anyone else (i want to seeeeee) xoxoxo <3