#he fought a CHILD because he wanted to find his friend

[qismet]

tetchou you and your strong belief system will always be special to me

[dragon-zena]

AND. AND everyone is like "sora didnt care about becoming a keyblade master in the first place" well duh but it's deemed as something that he suddenly NEEDS to be in order to be useful in this upcoming battle (again, he did not ask to be involved in any of this, wrong place right time, whatever) but even then it still sucks ass to go into something thinking you'll be okay and then almost get possessed and have your power sapped and then you wake up and your "mentor" is telling you that you didnt succeed because you're Suuuuch a Slacker who didnt take it seriously

[chaussetteblanche]

AHH i lived ur luke one do u think u can do another maybe like an enemies to lovers trope (sorry im a sucker for enemies to lovers)☺️

hi babe !! thanks for requesting ! don't apologise we're all on our knees and begging for enemies to lovers <3

I hate you

pairing : luke castellan x fem!reader summary : you and luke have been mortal enemies for months, will things change because of a quest? word count: 2.3k warnings : swear words, description of a wound

Luke had hated you since your first day at camp. To this day, you had no idea why. But after months of letting snark comments and aggressive capture the flags slide, you’d decided you had had enough. That had been the moment you'd officially become enemies. 

When he'd jeer at you, you'd bite back with even more venom. If you made him drop his sword at capture the flag, he’d come after you with his bare hands. When one hit, the other hit back harder. It was constant war. 

The rest of camp never understood this hatred you both harboured for one another. Singularly, you were both kind, generous and intelligent people. The kind of people you’d expect to get along fine and even become good friends. But no, it was always one thing after the next. 

So imagine your horror when a relatively new camper was chosen for a quest and found nothing better to do than pick you and your mortal enemy to accompany him. It was your worst nightmare come true. You froze when both your names resounded in the agora. 

You choked, coughed and held back from spluttering, refusing to embarrass yourself. You smoothed down your camp shirt and nodded. You did not look at Luke, even though you could feel his heated glower on your skin. He would probably find a way to blame you for this. Chiron looked between you and Luke with a raised eyebrow and pursed lips. You could almost hear what he was thinking. Nonetheless, he abided. 

Walking back to your cabin to prepare your things, you could hear the word actively spreading behind you.  "Did you hear that-" "Yeah, he’s chosen Luke and-" "They’ll be lucky if they don’t kill each other." Rolling your eyes, you shut yourself in your cabin and leaned back on the closed door. You dug the heels of your hands into your eyes, groaning. This was going to be nightmare.

And it really was. By hour 12 of the quest, you’d managed to get yourself thrown out of a train, fought off two harpies and had lost Luke.  "Where the hell did he go?" you asked loudly as you and Alan, the young camper, walked in direction of your next task. "He couldn’t have just disappeared!" "I don’t know, maybe he’ll join us later on." Alan shrugged. You frowned.  "Do you know anything about this?" You slowly turned to to him and he took a step back, shaking his head. "No, no, I-" "I’d suggest you think twice before lying to me, Alan," you growled. Alan sighed. "Yes, he told me he wanted to see how badly you did on your own so he could report it to camp." "Right." Of course. Of course he would find a way to make the dangerous quest even harder than it needed to be. You inhaled deeply, trying to remind yourself not to take your anger out on this thirteen year-old child. Your blood boiling, you turned back around and continued to walk. If Luke wanted to stay behind, that was fine with you. Better that than have him be in your way. 

"Oi!" Called a voice about an hour later. Ugh, Luke. You ignored him, keeping a steady pace. He called your name again. You didn’t react until his hand came down on your shoulder.  Before he could say another word, you spun around and pushed him up against the nearest tree, your forearm pressing down on the column of his throat. "Who the fuck do you think you are," you snarled, close to his face, "to leave Alan and I alone? The quest comes before everything! It comes before your hatred for me and your stupid pettiness! So pull yourself together and stop fucking around! » You shoved yourself off him, glaring into his eyes. He looked at you darkly before grabbing your wrist and pulling you close to him. "Yell at me again, princess, and I’ll give you a real reason to scream," he warned in a low voice. You scoffed, ripping your wrist out of his grip.  "Shut up and start walking, Castellan."

The quest went smoothly -as smoothly as it could go considering the tension between Luke and you- after that. You found that the three of you made a pretty good team. Everything was going fine and you had been on your way back to camp when you crossed a griffin. You pushed Alan behind you immediately, taking out your sword at the same time Luke did. "Distract him, I'll go around the side!" Luke ordered, running off. Despite not wanting to follow his orders, you set your jaw and instructed Alan to hide. You twisted your ring, a gift from your mother which turned into a shield when twisted the right way, and waited for the shield to form before banging your sword against it.

"Over here, you stinking pile of feathers! Or should I say fur?" You yelled as you ran backwards, away from Alan. You continued banging your sword against your shield and watched as Luke charged forward from the griffin's unguarded side. The beast shrieked as it was struck and batted Luke away with its large wing. Luke flew to the side with an 'oomph' sound. Despite your despise for him, you felt surprisingly concerned.

You darted forward as the griffin raised one of its clawed feet, ready to strike down Luke, who was slowly getting to his feet. The loud clang of claws meeting the metal of your shield made him look up quickly. You were straining underneath the power of the monster, pushing back against your shield with all of your strength. "Fucking. Move." You managed to speak through clenched teeth. Luke finally snapped out of his daze and bolted to the side. You readied yourself before jumping to the side, out of the griffin's reach -or so you thought. He swapped at you with his other clawed foot and despite you trying to run out of the way, managed to cut a gash in your side. You cried out. You heard Luke and Alan scream your name, but they felt far away.

You spun around, livid, and cut off the beast's hand as it came down towards you once more. Luke took his chance and stabbed the monster in the chest. The three of you watched as the creature turned to dust. You fell to your knees. Luke was next to you in a second, breathing heavily. He laid you down in the grass, muttering to himself. "Show me," he ordered, lifting your shirt up to reveal your stomach. You squirmed both from the strange feeling of having his eyes on your revealed body and from the stinging pain of the cut. "Gods- how bad it is?" you asked. The sound of Alan vomiting was indication enough. Luke bit his bottom lip, brows furrowed. "It's fixable. You just need ambrosia and a healer." "Really?" You hated the way your voice sounded so weak. Luke nodded strongly. "Trust me." And for some reason, you found that you did. He stood up and sheathed his sword before gesturing for Alan to take your bag.

"Can you walk?" he asked, though it sounded like more of a formality than a real question. You lifted yourself up on your elbows and groaned in pain. You shook your head, hating the fact that you had to rely on him of all people for help. "Okay, then." Luke bent forward, going to pick you up. "Wait." He stopped immediately. His eyes snapped up to your face, which had gone frighteningly white. You were staring at the gash across your stomach. It went from the top of ribs to the side of your belly button. And it did not look good. The cut was jagged and blood poured out all over your clothes. Luke watched, helpless, as your fingers reached out to touch the cut. You hissed in pain before looking up into his eyes.

"I'm going to die." Your voice shook dangerously. He hated the way your eyes watered and the way you looked so scared. He'd never seen you look that way before and he wanted to wipe the sight from his memory. You did not have a face that was meant to look frightened. You had a face which was meant for pride and victory. "Look at me." He grabbed your chin and kneeled next to you. "You are not going to die." He pulled a spare T-shirt out of his bag, balled it up and pressed down on your wound with it. "I know, it hurts," he cooed as you whimpered with pain. "Hold it here."

Ignoring your groans of pain, he pulled you into his arms and stood up. Your vision was becoming blurry, but you did all you could to keep pressing down on your wound with his T-shirt. You heard him bark out orders to Alan in the distance. "Luke," you spoke softly as black dots danced in your vision. "No, no, no, don't close your eyes, princess. Keep looking at me." "I don't wanna die," you whispered before passing out. Luke clenched his jaw as he sped up the pace, ordering Alan to keep up with him. "Idiot. You're not gonna die. I won't let you."

You awoke to a soft yellow light surrounding you. Slowly opening your eyes, you looked around to find yourself in the camp infirmary. Luke was on a chair beside your bed. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "Hey." "Hi," you croaked, trying to sit up. Wobbly, you managed to sit somewhat straight against the pillows. "How're you feeling?" Luke asked, looking over your face. He was relieved it to find it less white that it had been two days before. "Like shit, really." You let out a hoarse chuckle. He laughed shortly, looking down at his hands. You were surprised to find it was a really nice sound. That had been the first time you'd ever heard him laugh, and it felt really good to be the cause of it. "How long have I been out?" "Two days and a half." You were quiet for a moment as you thought back to the last things you remembered. "I guess I should thank you for saving my life, Castellan."

Luke let out something close to a scoff and leaned back in his chair. "You saved mine first. Thank you." "Well, yeah." You coughed. "I couldn't just let you die like-" "I don't hate you, you know," he interrupted you. You stopped talking. "Not really."

"What do you mean you don't hate me? Of course you do. You can't stand me. You think everything I do is stupid and bound to failure." "No, I- I don't hate you. I'm envious of you. Of what you have." "Of what I have? I have a fucking hole in my stomach right now, Caste-" "Of your mom. Mostly."

Your lips made an 'O' shape as you understood. Suddenly, everything made sense. That was why he'd disliked you from the start. You had the one thing he never would. Your mother was a minor goddess and did not have many children. This permitted her to be frequently in contact with you and therefore play the role of a present mother. Your father always kept in touch with you. You knew that with each of them you would always have someone to turn to. Unlike Luke.

"Mostly?" you asked, tilting your head to the side. "I'm envious of how whenever you walk into a room, it immediately lights up. Of how everyone likes you. Of how you always look good, even if you've just been torn to pieces by a griffin. Of how you always seem to see the good in people, except for me, I guess. Of how you get along with everyone except for me." Luke didn't meet your eye as he spoke. "Maybe if you hadn't been such an ass when we first met, we'd have gotten along fine. And I do see the good in you, I just like to ignore it for my own benefit." Luke's eyes shot up to yours.

"What do you mean 'your own benefit'?" "Well, if I didn't ignore the way you're so kind to the new kids, the way you're so protective of your friends and Annabeth, the way you stand up for what you think is right, the way your eyes look when they catch the light just right and the way your laugh seems to draw everybody in, then maybe... Maybe I wouldn't dislike you at all. Quite the contrary, actually." You could feel your heart hammering inside your chest as you spoke. The way Luke was staring into your soul was not helping either.

"Say something, Luke," you pleaded. His first name felt soft and foreign on your tongue. You had never said it before.

Luke did not answer. Wordlessly, he stood up and was by your side in two steps. He cupped your cheek, leaned down and brushed his lips against yours. Your heart raced and when he pulled away, you found yourself chasing his lips. He looked deeply into your eyes and smiled before kissing you properly. Eruptions exploded in your stomach as you kissed him back. You pulled him closer by the shirt as his warm lips pressed against yours. Finally, you couldn't help but think. All those feelings you'd ignored and pushed to the back of your mind finally broke free and you almost cried from relief.

His free hand found the back of your neck and you shivered as his fingers caressed the skin there. You leaned into his touch and cupped his jaw before slowly sliding a hand into his hair. He let out a soft moan but before you could get too into it, a cough resounded throughout the room.

"I'm glad to see that you and Luke have managed to work through your differences, Y/N." Chiron spoke, amusement dripping from his words, as he trudged into the room. "Now tell me about your quest."

[syrupfog]

Maybe in another world the poison Sanji’s mum took didn’t work on Sanji, or at least not in the same way. 

A child with black hair and dull eyes, and like his brothers he’s made to be a solider who follows orders. 

The difference is that he follows his mum’s instead of Judge’s. 

She’s distraught that the poison wasn’t enough, but she raises Sanji as best she can to be someone free, even if he can’t really be. 

He learns to cook because she asks him to (she wonders if she’s fooling herself when she sees just a glimmer of excitement in his dull eyes).

He guards her like a dog as she grows sick, this six year old who can’t even see over the counters. But he’s strong and can fight and all he knows is that what his mum says is what he does. 

And when she’s dying, she tells him to run. Says whatever happens, get away from Judge.

And when she dies, that’s what he does. Because he’s an emotionless machine, but he’s following her orders. She told him to be free from Germa, and to seek friends. He doesn’t understand the second part (“friends are a weakness” Judge had said) so he ignores it, but he goes.

He finds the Orbit at age seven and he already has cooking skills (and he’s super powered— he’s good at what he does). They’re creeped out by him, most of the cooks just try to ignore him or slink around him, this terrifying little kid who can dice hundreds of onions in an hour.

He doesn’t interact with them either— his mum said to be free, and he assumes this is “free”. He assumes these aren’t “friends”, at least they’re not like in the books she read him. No one has fought for him or offered to share their things with him, so these must not be them.

And then, of course, the Orbit is hit by pirates, and then hits a storm. Sanji ends up stranded with Zeff on that cliff. Why’d Zeff save him? Maybe it was the way he stood emotionless in front of him with those dead eyes. Said he had to get back to cooking like nothing mattered.

Maybe it was the way everyone else looked at him like they were scared of him, this little ten year old unaware of his effect. 

Maybe it was the almost imperceptible way he flinched when another cook came near him, like he was waiting for the next attack. 

It doesn’t matter now.

What matters is that Sanji’s on the island with Zeff and they’re starving, but Zeff gives him food. Zeff loses his leg for Sanji. These things are adding up, Sanji thinks this might be what his mum wanted him to find. 

He’s not sure. 

Uncertainty doesn’t fit well with him.

But his mum said to find a friend and Zeff fits what he knows, so he devotes himself like a soldier. When they get off the island, Zeff can’t get rid of him no matter what he tries (he doesn’t try too hard). 

They get a restaurant. 

Sanji works like a machine in the kitchens.

Zeff puts him on food prep for years and Sanji does it without complaint. No one is as good as him at finely dicing, at weighing and measuring to the letter. He even does the dishes when they’re behind, and only breaks one before he figures out not to grip with all his strength.

Zeff makes him a full fledged chef at fifteen. 

He always feels a little… conflicted about making Sanji work. The boy doesn’t have friends and doesn’t seem to desire them. He doesn’t have emotions. It feels wrong to make him work when he doesn't have the fight to object.

But Sanji’s his responsibility for some reason, and he’s accepted that. 

And once, just once, when Sanji is seventeen, Judge comes down in the middle of the night to find a full five course meal prepared. It’s nothing the Baratie makes. It smells of unfamiliar lands.

He doesn’t mention it to Sanji, and there’s no trace of it the next day. 

He wonders, though. 

When Sanji is nineteen, Luffy arrives with a cannonball through the wall. 

Zeff’s not too happy about that, but Sanji’s on red alert. He goes after Luffy with a vengeance.

Because that’s ZEFF, and if Sanji knows one thing it’s that he has to PROTECT ZEFF. 

Luffy’s enamoured with him immediately. He wants Sanji. He wants this man who cooks and fights with his feet (Zeff taught him that, Sanji added it to the rules— no hands, be free, find friends).

Sanji’s dull eyes barely blink as he tells Luffy no, that he’s here for Zeff. 

But then Luffy says the magic words. 

He introduces Sanji (who stopped fighting at Zeff’s directive) to his crew and says, “this is my new friend Sanji! He’s going to be our cook!”

It’s confusing in a way few things are. Sanji lives in black and white— but Luffy says they’re *friends*. His mum told him to find friends. But he can’t leave Zeff, who is also a friend. 

Sanji stumbles a little. 

And then the green haired swordsman mocks him for it. The smallest flame of anger lights in his belly, a single momentary spark. 

But that doesn’t matter because right now in this moment Sanji is processing having TWO friends. 

That processing comes to a halt when Zeff yells at him to leave. 

It’s simple again. 

He follows orders.

He joins the Straw Hats. 

He cooks. 

He fights. 

Luffy talks all the time about being free, and Sanji doesn’t get it but he figures Luffy will tell him when they manage to become “the most free”, something he has no metric of.

Also, Zoro is there. 

Zoro is a complication. Sanji’s not sure if he’s friends with everyone or just with Luffy. He THINKS it’s everyone. He doesn’t like living in greys. 

And Zoro likes to fight. 

He tries to rile Sanji up, every time. Makes comments about his food or eyebrows.

Sometimes it… well it doesn’t *work* but it makes that little spark hit deep inside of him again, and for a split second the world is brighter. And then it’s gone. 

Then Zoro pulls out his swords, which means they’re sparring, and Sanji is good at sparring.

They add more crew members. They go from island to island. Sanji protects his friends because that’s what he’s supposed to do, and he cooks, because he’s supposed to. 

And then some time around Water 7 he starts to dream. 

He’s never dreamed before.

He dreams of his mum and her warm smile. He dreams of his sister and her complicated expressions that he could never understand. 

He dreams of Zoro and the grin that stretches over his face and the way his earrings dance. 

He doesn’t get it. There’s no point to dreams.

What does it, what finally lights the spark inside of him, is Thriller Bark. It’s “nothing happened”. Zoro pushes him out of the way, stops him from doing the one thing he’s MADE to do, and then Sanji wakes up and realises what’s happened. 

And a whirlwind alights inside of him.

The world has colors and depth it didn’t before, as he’s flooded with ANGER, that Zoro would do that, WORRY, that Zoro won’t make it, PAIN and HEARTBREAK for his mum, and a new sort of loyalty, deep and unending, for his crew. 

He watches Zoro sleep as he processes.

And when Zoro finally wakes, when that worry abates a little, he YELLS at him. SCREAMS that he was a SELFISH ASSHOLE and HOW DARE HE and he’s IMPORTANT. 

And through it all, Zoro stares at him, wide eyed and probably high on pain meds.

And then, when Sanji finally exhausts himself, Zoro grins. That same grin from Sanji’s dreams, and he says, “I knew you’d make it.” 

Which is DUMB and makes Sanji EVEN MORE MAD because what does that fucking MEAN and he YELLS SOME MORE and by that time all the Straw Hats have gathered in shock outside the infirmary door. 

“Welcome to the crew, Curls,” Zoro says and Sanji wants to KICK HIM but he’s on death’s door already and Sanji knows how strong he is. 

So instead he collapses onto him and weeps, his emotions a confusing mess inside of him.

And eventually the door creaks open and Chopper slips in because he HAS to check Zoro’s vitals and then Luffy BOUNDS in and wraps his arms around Sanji and says “SANJI, MAKE ME MEAT” and Sanji SNAPS that he’s BUSY and Luffy LAUGHS and says “Okay but AFTER YOU’RE BUSY, MEAT.”

And later that night, after he’s made a MISTAKE in the kitchen because he got EMOTIONAL chopping vegetables, he sits in the infirmary again, forcing Zoro to drink broth. And he says, “I don’t know what happened. It’s like there’s too much of me inside me now.”

And Zoro says yeah. “That’s what living feels like,” he says. 

“I don’t like it,” says Sanji. 

“You ever disliked something before?” 

“No.” 

“Then congratulations.” 

Then Zoro reaches out and grabs his hand. His grip is weak still, shaking.

He says, “this is the point. You have to find things to live for, now.” 

And Sanji thinks. “I’m supposed to live for friends,” he says. “And freedom.” 

“The you’re on the right ship,” Zoro says. “What else?” 

And Sanji remembers a book his mum used to read. A long time ago.

“Have you heard of the All Blue?”

[gay-dorito-dust]

Will you do a scenario of how we’d meet Bill for the first time and what he would be like if you were sort of “friends”? 🙏

You were minding your business while walking through the woods of Gravity Falls, just needing a change of scenery and finding the woods to be the perfect place to do so with it’s mushrooms, flowers and the wildlife that crossed your path.

Everything was seemingly fine and not out of the ordinary until you started to feel like you were being watched from somewhere, you looked to see if you could spot anyone, but all you could see were birch trees that had markings on the bark that suspiciously looked like eyes. You were just about thinking of leaving until you heard a voice from somewhere.

‘Hey kiddo!’

You looked to the left, nothing

‘Other way kid.’

the to the right, nothing

‘Colder.’

Up? Nope, nothing.

‘You’re practically an human popsicle at this point.’

How about looking down? Still nothing. Now you were getting confused, scared and annoyed.

You heard the voice sigh and say ‘you’re starting to make me feel sad, here I’ll make this a little easier for you.’ Then before you could say anything, a small yellow triangle with one eye wearing a top hat and bow tie appeared before you.

‘It’s great to finally meet you y/n.’ It said and immediately you were freaked out.

‘Who are you and how did you know my name?’ You asked, uneasy.

‘The names Bill Cipher and I know lots of things, lots of things.’ Bill replied, shrugging. ‘Wanna see what I can do?’ He adds after a brief pause but before you could answer him, he held his hand out to a nearby deer as its teeth were taken out of its mouth and into his small hand in a neat pile. ‘Deer teeth for you kid hehe.’ He then chuckled as he dumped the pile of deer teeth into your hands.

You on the other hand didn’t find this funny and fought the urge to vomit as you offered Bill the deer teeth back. ‘Mind giving the deer its teeth back? I’m sure it has more use for them than either of us.’ You ask as Bill did as you asked and gave the deer its teeth back as it galloped off elsewhere, leaving you alone with the weird triangle in the woods. Everything that had happened within the past five minutes had been overwhelming for you, too overwhelming that you had to sit yourself down on the trunk of a fallen tree and put your head in your hands, muttering to yourself.

‘This isn’t real, this is all some weird fever dream or I’m tripping balls. There’s no other explanation.’

Bill only chuckled as he floated next to you and patted you on the shoulder. ‘There, there human I can reassure you that what you just saw was very much real.’

You looked at him from your hands, unamused. ‘You fucking suck at comforting people you know that?’

‘I think we’ll get along great!’ Bill chirped gleefully.

‘We absolutely will not.’ You replied but you had an inkling that your opinion on the matter didn’t matter.

Now onto how bill would be if you were sort of ‘friends.’

He’s got a weird way about showing his feelings in any capacity.

The little shit put rats, dead rats outside your door, spelling out your name on random ass occasions that made it look like to others that a) you were haunted or b) had a weird stalker who liked to form your name out of dead rats.

He doesn’t want you having friends outside of him because and I quote ‘I’m the only friend you need, why bother with anyone else. So don’t even try cuz I’ll be watching you.’

Will leave sticky post it notes anywhere and everywhere saying to get more silly straws or else he’ll find a way to possess you and make you do embarrassing shit. Ie: walk through town in your underwear, make you speak backwards, kick a child-

Bill was a brat and his pranks were often traumatic but apparently they were ‘light’ in comparison to the stuff he did to his other meat puppets. You didn’t ask any further questions about what he meant by that in fear that he’d show you one as an example.

You are probably the only person who bill has told about his secret technique with mascara and eyeliner, even seeing him do it once when he insisted that you had a ‘sleepover’ at your place. He even points the mascara brush at you warningly as he threatened that you were to never tell people about this or else.

His version of jealousy when he sees you spending time with others is to trash your house and try to act cute when you catch him in the act. You don’t fall for this and give Bill the silent treatment for the rest of the day as he practically lost his shit over your lack of attention.

Probably air horned you awake once.

Bill Wouldn’t tell you this but he make your enemies do stupid shit that resulted in their deaths, for fun he claims but he didn’t want his favourite meat sack to start leaking water from their eyes every time something went wrong in their life. So he just cuts them out in the most brutal way possible.

Bill was stuck to you like glue and there’s was no way to hide from him as he would ultimately appears where you are, even if you’re in the fucking shower, he don’t care.

Bill: *appears in shower* my favourite meat sack have you- stop screaming it’s only me, have you seen a king cobra anywhere, I must’ve dropped it somewhere here-

He probably once threatened you with the whole ‘steal your eyes’ thing like he did with Ford but you had witness enough of Bill’s behaviour to know that he was joking about that, to which he was proud and would magically make a cake filled with worms, bugs and other unpleasant things appear in celebration.

You may or may not have been sick that day.

Your and Bills friendship was weird, probably not the healthiest in all honestly and you should seek help and or maybe therapy for the shit he’s out you through.

You were his property, you were his pet, HIS MEAT SACK and you wouldn’t be allowed to go anywhere without him knowing and or being nearby in hopes of catching your eye.

Just a yellow triangle with one eye and a top hat and bow tie floating ominously in the background was enough to unnerve anyone.

You had no freedom as far as you were concerned in this ‘friendship’ but bill likes to claim that he has given you the most freedom out of anyone who has ever existed.

[lady-ashfade]

Blood And Pressure

Part four

Yandere!Pjo × Fem!Grisha!reader. (Platonic yandere gods) (romantic!various characters)

-♡ Chapters: Previous // Next

-♡ this is a shadow & bone slight crossover. Reader is a heartrender and that's all really (maybe more in the future!)

-♡ words: 1k

-♡ Please note that all characters are aged appropriately, so all characters are older versions of the book characters. So 17-19 characters for these, you can choose any of them really. Just that they are older teens.

-♡ warnings: short, yandere behaviors, obsession, stalking, slightly sick love, possessive, manipulative, gaslighting, platonic yandere too, blood powers, powerful powers but not godly, and future warnings when more chapters come out.

You’d like to say you could understand everything that was happening but you had not even a small clue. You sat in the big house with your bag in hand while the two adults argue over you.

“I forbid her to leave, she’s not hera’s child,” you sink back while Mr.d points his finger at you, “she belongs here, with me.”

The god fought for you to stay with him, he kept you happy and feed, even made you smile. All for someone else to claim you? It made his blood boil and you could see it on his face as he shouts.

“She’s been claimed and even if we don’t understand, it is how things have to be.” Chiron sounded disappointed but stern. Of course he would stay up for you, like he always does. He hated for you to leave but you wanted so badly to leave them and have friends and he could understand.

“Mr.d,” you step forward to the god, “I’ll make you a promise.”

“And what’s that kid?” He hated how he spoke to you but he was just too heated that he could banish everyone kid from camp.

“I’ll come visit and play cards with you every week?” You try and bargain your time, even when the thoughts made your bones tighten at thinking of being stuck like that again.

He looked down at you with a suspicious glare while he thought it over. He didn’t have a choice but that didn’t mean he liked it. So finally he let out a breath and agreed while rushing off and mumbling under his breath.

The next stop you had was weirder.

The cabin was dark and empty. Cold and you could feel your spine shiver at the lack of heat. You glanced around but found no furniture to even sit on. No one was supposed to sleep here. Hera had no half-blood offsprings because unfaithfulness was not her way, and yet here you stand being claimed by her. And something tells you all the gods had something to do with it. Mr. D seemed to be more jealous when he spoke about the queen of gods. Like she was unworthy to have you.

“I suppose we’ll be needing to fetch some essentials for your new home.” Chiron tried to sound happy.

“Don’t worry,” you hold up your arms that carried pillows as far as you can with a reassuring smile, “I’ll survive.” and truth be told your bed was the one thing you would miss about staying there.

You find yourself walking up to the firepit and staring up at the statue of hera holding her staff. The way her eyes looked…you felt calm, but almost afraid of what it would be like to look in the real ones. She wasn’t someone to mess with while even her husband feared her wrath.

“So, Chiron?” You ask. You continue to stare up at the stone goddess. “Do you know why she claimed me.” there wasn’t much hope he’d share his insight. the centaur kept quiet for a second to consider his next words wisely.

“Just as clueless to me. Maybe we’ll get some information in the morning after a goodnight sleep.” Just as you thought. Not a peep from him.

You nod and turn around and place everything you had on the floor which wasn’t much but you were glad you had all you did. Chiron handed you the blankets with a smile on his face and for a minute it looked like he was going to cry while he looked at you.

So you open your arms wide and pull him into a hug, or what you could reach and he chuckles deeply and pats your head. In all his years you were his favorite to ever walk into this camp and to guide you. To him, camp was nothing without you.

You settled in quickly while unpacking what you could to make you feel at home. You had two blankets, one on the floor and pillows on top and the other over yourself. You tried to pick a place to the fire without burning up or being too cold.

And for the first time you were all alone to your own thoughts.

“Pst” a hushed whisper called out from no where. The voice startled you as you jump forward and grab ahold of the nearest thing, your old book.

“I’m not going to hurt you. I’m a camper.” The voice had no body to go along with it making you confused. Was it one of Apollos children? Whoever they were they didn’t belong here.

“Says the person who stays hidden.”

The person in question lets out a laugh and then you see a figure appearing out of no where. A blue cap was the first thing you notice as they move their hand down with it grasped. A girl with a orange camp shirt, pretty eyes and blonde hair twisted into a braid.

“You grab a book to hurt me? Almost seems like you know me.” She smirked amusingly.

She had been watching you since you arrived at camp two years ago when she could, she grew to now you like no one else did. And now you’re out and into the camp with her she couldn’t let you walk without keeping a eye on you. You arrived with percy, another person she needed to watch so it was easy.

“What’s you name?” You ask the mysterious girl.

“Annabeth, consider me your guide from now on.” She walked further and stood above you. Her wicked smile seemed off just like everyone else you have seen.

“What cabin are you from? I heard some kids saying Apollos kids-” she cut you off by waving the hat in her hand.

“Athena.” You nod.

“And you’ll need me.” You tilted your head at her words and arched your brows. Need her? What was she talking about.

“For what? I mean I’m glad to have a friend but..” taking a deep breath as her eyes glint with something almost dangerous.

“For capture of the flag.”

Taglist: @maria699669 @gorgeourrific-nerd @alliriseabove @targaryenluvs @theaaeht @dabalyuteeeftia @weepingwitchofthewest @iris1587 @tulipmagnoliaisme @ameliashideout @purplerose291 @poppyflower-22 @riaaavm @anonymouslyawesome25 @orionspaperwork @a-cat-loverr @Ilpovi @eatmyassfictionalstyle @theanklebiter-blog @nasyu-kookies

[dinarosie]

Let His Story Be His Own

I believe that people have the right to create their headcanons about characters, but many fanon creators (Especially Marauders fandom) deeply believe every single sentence in this narrative and think it's canon (left image), and they insult the fans of severus snape.

To them, Snape, at best, is Lily’s toxic friend who did nothing in his life besides poisoning Neville’s toad and calling Lily a Mudblood. Yet characters like Pettigrew and Barty Crouch Jr. and Rosier are tragic heroes and victims of domestic violence!!! (The image on the right includes some signs of trauma and depression that I’ve taken from this article; you can see that Snape clearly exhibits some of these symptoms.)

It’s insane that not only do they erase Snape’s name and belittle and shame him for his psychological trauma, but they go even further and falsify his story to favor Death Eaters like Barty Crouch Jr. and Evan Rosier!

People like Rosier, Crouch, and Regulus were neither tortured nor forced into joining Voldemort due to family pressure or trauma. They joined him willingly. Rosier fought and died for Voldemort’s cause until his last breath. Crouch and Pettigrew never regretted their choices, and when given another chance (unlike Snape), they eagerly rejoined Voldemort. They were ready to kill and torture at Voldemort's command. 

Stop crafting dramatic and heroic stories for psychopaths. If you’re looking for a tragic and romantic hero, the only one in the story is Severus Snape.

He is the one described as a poor, neglected child who was abused and physically harmed by his family.

He is the small boy with black hair, crying alone in a corner, watching his mother being abused by his father.

He is the child and teenager who was publicly mocked and humiliated because of his appearance and poverty.

He is the genius child who could have become one of the greatest wizards in history, but his life was never his own. He was a soldier, a tool of war, with no chance to build the life he wanted.

He is the one who, in adulthood, exhibits clear physical and psychological signs of depression and trauma.

He is the one who, due to his insecurity and vulnerabilities, felt forced to join Voldemort in search of a place where he might find some semblance of peace and safety.

He is the one who loses the love of his life and his best friend because of Voldemort and wishes for death because of it.

He is the one willing to give up everything for love.

He is the one who has been manipulated his entire life and battles with guilt and depression.

He is the one who stands up to Voldemort, deceives him, and bravely dies to save others.

He is the one who watches all his friends and loved ones die and is powerless to save them.

It was him who was “'the bravest man I’ve ever known.'”

(That man had nothing in his life; at least let his story remain his own.)

[nelkcats]

Death sentence

We are sorry Phantom, but we need to see by yourselves if you are a threat or not, we will be visiting you tomorrow at 4:40 pm

-Justice League

Danny was unsure about his feelings, apparently the government contacted the JL to eliminate him because he was "dangerous", but Martian Manhunter, knowing the government was not always the best, convinced them, so the League leave a message to Vlad instead.

Vlad didn't want to fight with him, he published the note in Amity newspaper. Now, that was kinda...bad, not for him, but for the rest of Amity Park. It was like being sentenced to death.

While Danny freaked out the entire city was having a meeting, they didn't want the Justice League there, not near Phantom or Fenton, he was a kid, the league have a history ignoring calls and kidnapping child heroes to be part of their "society", and train them "properly". Their kid was already death, they were not going to take risks.

Amity Parkers also know they will start to choose between him as they choose between their "personas", like Phantom and Fenton were different, and yeah, the inhabitants of Amity Park can't judge, it take a while to figure out he was the same but by that point he already saved their lifes and they were already attached to him.

If the League finds out the kid was a halfa they will choose a favorites; "Phantom" being better fighter than "the civil identity Fenton", "Fenton" being intelligent "when he is not at hero work", and to be honest they understand, when a person acts different is normal to separate between the two personalities.

They will obligate him to separate himself, like the "hero" and the "civilian" needed to act different or some stupid thing like that.

But Fenton Phantom was not a personality to separate, they were the same and the small city remembered all the fights, all the favoritism, remembered when Fenton was left out because of his better "half", remembered when they needed to buy the kid an apartment far from his parents cause it taked a while for them to separate "His cute guy Dann-o" and " The Ghost scum"

And the city remembered the sobs, the adults remember leaning out their window at night and hearing the uncontrollable wailing of the ghost, allowing himself to be the scared teenager he always was.

That day, they made a promise, to accept him, all of him, he never needed to be separated in two again, he was not destined to, he was the representation of equilibrium between life and death for god sake. The kid already hidden from them for two years, two years of scars and fighting alone, and they will never repeat that error.

The Justice League have no right to break their promise. And they will never let them ruin another kid, not an Amity Parker.

So, what happened next was just natural; the next day Mr. Lancer called Sam and Tucker, told them to guide Danny to the Ghost Zone for a while, maybe entertain him with his ghost friends, they accepted.

"Team Phantom" was still active (with Dani and Val help) but they had more support than ever, and they trusted their city, all basically united by the guy who literally spends his after life protecting them.

The thing is, it was almost stupid what happened in the past, Danny was sleep deprived, his fight with Pariah ended well but the suit suck too much energy for him, that connected with his lack of sleep ended in a transformation In the middle of town, where everyone could see it.

It took a while to accept the reality, that a boy had fought with the king of the dead for a city that hated him. They even pretended to have no idea about the revelation, acting like they didn't know for another couple of weeks; Although the news spread and gossip was not lacking.

Sam and Tucker expected the other shoe to drop, but they ended surprised when the city called a reunion (since when the totally of the city reunited?), they acted like Danny bodyguards, but what they didn't expected was the Fentons unable to look at them and leave the room.

The people who stayed offered an apology (but Val wanted an explanation) and an apartment (¿the city collected money to give him an apartment far from his home? Danny wasn't sure if he was happy or heartbroken)

When the Justice League arrived the Red Huntress was waiting for them, her weapon pointing the "heroes" who frowned at the sight of the "hero" holding wepons.

"Sorry, ¿is Phantom haunt here?" Martian Manhunter asked cordially, the girl nodded "¿can we talk with him?"

"No"

"¿Why not?¿is he dangerous?¿is he hiding from us? It's okay, we can capture him if that's the case" Flash assured, hoping that would take away the tense atmosphere, the meta ghost was probably the villain of the city or something, so that made the red suit girl the hero.

"We can also give you proper training so you can stop using wepons" Wonder Woman also offered.

"First of all, that's none of your business, you don't go to Star City and ask Green arrow to stop using arrows cause you don't like them, I don't care about your training" the girl answers, obviously annoyed "second, we don't want you here, not near him"

The Martian frowned "Sorry ¿we?"

"We" the girl pointed at the city, all the city was watching them, but contrary to normal meetings they were watching them with resentment.

"Eh, ¿why? Maybe this is all a misunderstanding..." Superman was trying not to look at the people, even the kids on the street seemed to stop what they were doing just to look at them with pure hate in their eyes "can we see the major?".

"I'm here" Vlad appeared behind the girl and greeted them "I see you already meet the Red Huntress"

"Yes, ¿Do you know where Phantom is? We send a note yesterday" Batman asked, the reason of the meeting was not there after all.

"Yes, I remember, the Death Sentence you left on my door cause of the U.S government ¿right?"

"¿Death sentence? That's not-"

"Oh, but it is, you left your precious note in my office, overnight, asking us to hand you over to our local hero for you to search and see if he's a threat, ¿am I wrong?" Vlad was having fun teasing these heroes.

"Sir, we need you to understand, according to the U.S government Phantom is a dangerous individual, maybe he can even destroy your city" Superman tried

"According to the U.S government we don't exist, ¿or did you forget that information on purpose?" the huntress mocked

"I remember, but it was for your safety, the government was trying to contain the threat-"

"The Goverment this, the government that, you see superheroes, we are not ruled by the government anymore, this is a free city, since we were contained here, we produce everything on your own, food, energy, we owe nothing to the government and much less to you"

"¡But we can help you! We can get ride of your meta infestation and-" Flash was trying to mediate

"¿Meta infestation? ¿That's what they told you?, oh poor heroes, getting here with the grown information" the major laughed "Look, I will make myself clear, we have a ghost infestation, Amity Park is now a death city and we prefer it this way"

"And what about Phantom?" Martian Manhunter asked worried.

Vlad sighed "You can visit him, he likes space, however" he pointed at the other heroes "they can't, we don't need the Goverment help, we don't need your help, we are alive because of that boy and we don't want YOUR team near him, Phantom is an Amity Parker and it will stay that way" the major walked away.

"Look, ¿Martian Manhunter? You are a good guy I get it, but we don't want all of you here, the only hero we want is Phantom and we don't need your ideologies or training near him, he is OURS, so please, get out of the city while we are still being nice" Red Hunter stated.

"¿What if you need help?" Batman asked

"We needed help two years ago, the boy you want to take saved us when you decided not to take our pleas, and as such, we won't take yours" the girl said "Amity Park can take care of it's own as always, go save a city that need you"

And with that said she flew away, leaving them at the entrance of the city, the angry shouts and mutters of the citizens saying that they wanted them away in the background.

[darlingdekarios]

prūmia hen zaldrīzes.

"heart of the dragon."

rating: explicit. 18+ only. length: 8,317 content: Prince Aemond Targaryen x f!Lannister!reader, reader is a Lannister but is not given a specific description, Aemond is so salty and petty, arranged marriage, infidelity, smut [v fingering, f receiving oral, unprotected p in v, creampie], kinks [biting, scratching, breeding]

when he is forced to watch his twin flame marry his brother, Aemond finds a solution for coping other than burning it all to the ground.

King’s Landing, 120 AC

“I’m sorry for your eye, Prince Aemond,” you whispered, your voice quiet and sincere as the boy you’d spent so many years of your childhood with avoided your gaze with the perfect eye he still had. “I came as soon as I was told what happened.”

All he could muster was a firm nod, the sweet boy you often encountered now tucked away inside crushing self-consciousness as he sat before you. Still, despite his unease at his bandaged face, he found it within himself to remark the pride he felt for himself. “I lost an eye but gained a dragon. I would make the trade again.”

You had to smile at his subtle insistence to impress you, to cover the aura of dread he seemed to be exuding. “A worthy trade indeed, my prince.”

His good eye finally found your face, his harsh resolve fading at the softness that covered your features. Only months younger than Aemond and the sole daughter of Lord Lannister, you had spent much of your childhood in the Red Keep beside the Targaryen children. With your father’s place at Viserys’ Court, you spent more time at the Capital than within the walls of Casterly Rock, and while Helaena had always been a wonderful friend, it was Aemond you often found yourself beside. Now, at the darkest night in his life, it would be no different, and the gratitude shown through his features. He could never hide his truest self from you. 

“My face doesn’t make you want to scream?” he questioned, the anger at his own mutilation doing wonders at hiding the genuine concern he felt at how you’d respond to his new appearance – even as a child, Aemond always basked in your approval. 

“Only because you must be in pain,” you reassured, your soft voice sincere in ways no one else ever was with him. His gaze lingered on yours for a moment, almost as if he was waiting for you to laugh, so used to being on the receiving end of a joke these days but was met only with your kindness as your warm hand covered his own. With the subtlest of squeezes, you quieted your voice to barely above a whisper. “I shall put out Lucerys’ eye for your next name day.”

For the first time since the incident Aemond felt his lips curve into a light smile, anxiety’s grasp on his heart lightening. “Viserys says Lord Strong is not to be hurt,” he remarked, the distaste for his father’s decision and forsaking of his own son shining through his voice. “It is an embarrassment. It is shameful. I will have to sit here and have my bandages changed daily by…”

“Me,” you offered, your voice earnest and hopeful. If it would not cause him pain his eyebrows would have pulled together in visible bewilderment – why anyone would offer to see him in the state he was in was beyond him. You offered a gentle smile and gave his hand another squeeze, repeating your offer to help him understand. “I will have the Maester teach me the proper way tomorrow, and then I will do it for you, Aemond.”

It would both confuse and comfort Aemond every day for the coming months when you found your way to his door promptly, gentle hands providing a better, more caring bandaging than anyone else had offered. 

King’s Landing, 123 AC

“He is insufferable,” Aemond gritted through his teeth, his jaw popping in irritation as he fought to remain composed before you. You had seen him in much worse states than this in your younger years when he had less of a cool control over his emotions, but it had been quite some time since you had heard this tone behind his words. “Laughing at me because I don’t wish to bed whores like he does.”

“He is only jealous because he has to pay people to like him, my Prince,” you spoke, coming to sit beside him before his fireplace. His good eye met your gaze, the smallest bit of his frustration dissipating under your gentle expression. 

The years that had passed since he had lost his eye had only pulled the two of you closer together, your own mother having passed due to fever. Pained by the resemblance you bore to your mother, your father had all but abandoned you at the Red Keep – any time apart from one another was due to Aemond’s absence, not your own. In a world where both of you found backs turned to you, you always found one another – the familiarity so comforting it was impossible to give up. 

“Even still, my lady – his words have point,” he spoke, falling into the sweetness you presented him with. Resting your hand on top of his between the two of you, you held onto his every word – ever the one to make him feel important and desired. “I am thirteen and, according to Aegon, I’m hardly even a man because I won’t let one of his whores kiss me.”

The silence lingered as you soaked in his words, the crackling of the fireplace lulling you into a comfortable state. With his hand beneath yours you were once again reminded how warm Aemond was, and how it always seemed to invite you closer whether you were conscious of it or not. “Is it truly so important to have been kissed?”

“I care more for other things,” he stated simply, while inside his mind he found no calm. “But I do wish to have a reason to quiet him.”

A nod confirmed your understanding, a quiet hum leaving your lips in approval. Without much more than a minute of thought you leaned across to him, pressing your lips to his in a chaste, delicate and inexperienced kiss. Aemond, always quick to action, found for the first time in a long time he was caught off guard, frozen to his place as you gifted him (and yourself) his first kiss.

The next time Aegon taunted his younger brother for having not been kissed over dinner, Aemond was proud to report that he had, in fact. Despite the queen turning her head to analyze her son’s proud expression, she hadn’t missed the redness to your cheeks or the quick giggle you had to silence. Though she very easily could have, Alicent Hightower kept the kiss a shared secret – even from the two of you. 

King’s Landing, Winter 128 AC

Lowering your cloak’s hood and taking a step into the darkness you found yourself being pushed toward the stone wall, familiar hands grasping your shoulders. As you turned your gaze upward to take in the sight of his shining blue eye and eye patch you found the harshness of his expression. 

“What are you doing? Have you lost all sanity?” he questioned, leaning his face closer to yours. Now that he was a teenager, he had begun to tower over you, his height serving an obvious intimidation advantage. 

“I wanted to see you so I…I snuck through the castle and the city to here, and I thought…I’d find you down here,” you explained, your rationale doing nothing to soothe his pounding heart. “I’ve often wondered what the lower parts of the dragon pit were like.”

“I have heard curiosity often kills the cat,” he replied, one of his hands leaving your shoulder to cup your face, his thumb brushing gently against the expanse of your cheek. “Dovodedha kēlītsos…this is no place for you.”

It was impossible not to lean into his hand more, embracing the warmth you so often craved these days. As Aemond grew older and responsibility loomed on his head, his hours training and hunting and flying grew, time away from you being a cruel result of that. And for your part, you had been returned to Casterly Rock a year prior due to your father wishing to keep you closer again, wishing to fend off those who sought betrothal to you, remarking often that none of them were good enough for his daughter. The most contact you’d received from your closest companion was through raven or middleman, the occasional visit atop Vhagar from him – when he had the time.

The moment you’d arrived in King’s Landing you’d wanted to see Aemond. And truth be told, if he had known of your arrival beforehand, there would have been nothing to keep him from greeting you. Your intention to surprise him by not giving warning of your visit had backfired, but Helaena had rescued the day by telling you where to find her brother. This close you could see the slick sweat to his brow, the subtle flare to his nostrils that signified his annoyance. 

It was a secondary feeling – what he truly felt was concern. 

“And yet I am still alive before you, unharmed, my Prince,” you taunted, your voice low and smooth and brimming with joy at being so near to him again. His hand on your cheek slid further, fingers entangling in your hair gently to refamiliarize himself with the texture. 

“Only because I found you first, kēlītsos.”

“I wanted to be found.”

The smallest smile formed on his lips, a gentle shake to his head further proving his amusement. “I have missed you and your recklessness. You truly have the bravery of a lion, though I doubt you have the nine lives.”

His smile was returned by your own, your hands finding way to either side of his neck delicately. “I have missed you as well, Aemond,” you spoke quietly, fingernails grazing his skin lightly on the back of his neck and creating goosebumps across his skin. 

Strong emotions rushing through him paired with the hormones of a teenager had him claiming your lips in a bruising kiss next, critical words lost to him as he lost himself in your features. This time, neither of you were caught off guard, the kiss returned immediately and met with a hum of approval. His grip on your hair tightened slightly as his tongue sought a taste of your lips, his own hum vibrating in his chest as your fingers found way to his hair as well. 

As you allowed your jaw to relax and his tongue to enter your mouth his free hand grasped your hip, pulling your waist forward and into his, so he could grind his hardening cock into you, greedily swallowing the moan it pulled from you. Recognizing the danger that going further posed he was the one to reluctantly break the hungry kiss, and he who resisted kissing you again as he escorted you to the Red Keep. 

If he had known taking you back to those who awaited you meant hearing his mother announce you were to marry Aegon, he would have fled with you atop Vhagar. Despite his best efforts, his family was still finding new ways to play jokes on him. This was the cruelest yet.

King’s Landing, Spring 129 AC

The months that followed were a harsh realization of your new reality. 

Ever since, that day had been the first thought to your mind in the morning and the thing that you cried yourself to sleep over every night. Though Alicent Hightower’s announcement that the King had decided to honor tradition and name his eldest son the true heir to the crown (something you felt had to do with how heavily sedated and agreeable he was, not that you’d voice that opinion to any other than Aemond), it was the second part of her speech that ripped your heart from your chest. You would wed her eldest son and unify the crown and the Lannisters, a truly monumental occasion for the realm. 

The words were those of two fathers – hers and your own – plotted with only greed in their hearts. Alicent did not relish in passing the news, and dreaded what it would do to her son, and yet that did not stop her from doing so. While you had attempted to make your objection to the match known, your words had no weight, and your future was decided behind your back. Aemond had returned to the Dragon Pit and did not return to the Red Keep for days. Even when he had returned, he would avoid you for the first time in your lives. 

It took only months for the betrothal to move forward. With King Viserys the Peaceful dead by Spring and the Conqueror’s crown placed upon Aegon’s head, it become imperative to demonstrate to the people of Westeros that their new King was worthy of the throne his father had bestowed on him. This of course meant marrying a woman from a highly regarded family and bringing children into his bloodline (not that he hadn’t already). 

“We stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wi-“

The septon’s words were cut short by the familiar bellow of a creature far older than any other present, the familiar flap of impossibly large wings shooting a gust of wind directly over your wedding ceremony. The Queen of All Dragons landed with a harsh quake to the ground, your hand shooting out to the archway over you to steady yourself, Helaena rushing forward to assist you. 

“You’re late to your own brother’s wedding, Aemond,” Alicent Hightower hissed through her teeth, attempting to maintain the smile she had plastered on her face as she watched her eldest son ignore the opportunity to assist his betrothed.

“Truthfully, mother, you should be lucky I am here at all,” the one-eyed prince replied, the sincerity behind his words unsurprising. “It is blasphemous. The one person in this world I truly care for, that I have no obligation to do so, and you stick her with my cunt of a brother.”

“Your words are treason, Aemond. Aegon is your king now,” she chastised, her glare fixating on him momentarily with the brief turn of her head. 

“Apologies, mother – my cunt of a king,” he replied, stepping backward and away from further ridicule. His step was matched by his mother – one of two people he could never seem to hide from.

“Aemond…I know this is difficult for you, my sweet boy,” she began, her voice soft and diplomatic. A couple of years younger and he may have faltered, but not now. Not when he faced a waking nightmare before him. “I do hope that one day when you find a suitable wife for yourself, you will understand the decision we’ve made.”

“I will not find a suitable wife and I will not marry,” came his reply, voice unwavering and absolute. “If I am not to marry her, I am not to marry at all.”

“I have faith that you will see reason and change your mind.”

Aemond turned his face back to his mother, jaw popping in frustration as he did so. It was subtle, anyone unfamiliar with the prince would not notice the movement – his own mother did, of course. “The woman standing across from Aegon sat beside me while every stitch on my face was opened, the hole where my eye used to be pried apart, and a sapphire inserted into it. She never released my hand, she never looked away. And now you marry her to someone who can’t tell his own hand from a whore.”

“Be that as it may, it is done,” the former queen continued, the remorse in her voice showing itself slightly. She knew, all too well, what it was like to lose love because of duty. “We may talk about this more later, sweet boy.”

“There is no need, mother. As you say,” he continued, placing his arms behind his back carefully. “It is done.”

The remainder of the ceremony went without additional surprise. Aemond desperately wished to be free of this obligation, his annoyance showcased on his face regardless of whose eyes may have caught glimpse of him. His only comfort came from the look that remained on your face – solemn, unimpressed, unchanging; even when Aegon had kissed you. It was the first time Aemond had seen so very little of a reaction to one of his brother’s kisses, and the display of indifference both satisfied something deep with Aemond and caused his stomach to churn. Your wedding day should have been so much better than this – you deserved so much better than this, than Aegon. 

It was a relief to his unsettled stomach when he saw you alone on a balcony during the feast to celebrate you – to celebrate the marriage and the new queen. Still, even with the food, the wine, and the gifts, Aemond had not seen your lips curl to a smile once the entire day. Though he wasn’t entirely certain he could contain himself from doing something foolish by claiming this moment of your attention, he opted to throw that caution to the wind. You were his to be foolish with.

He sauntered toward you with hands behind his back still, pleased when you turned as he approached within an arm’s length of you. For the first time all day he watched as you rivaled the full moon behind you with a smile.

“My Prince,” you greeted, eyes flashing up at him in profound appreciation. 

“Your Grace,” he bowed his head slightly in return, a small smirk flashing on his features as he peered up at you between his lashes. He’d worn the eye patch you’d specifically had crafted for him in Lannisport – you had to wonder if it was an intentional show of your bond or not. He caught the way your eyes lingered, filled with uncertainty. Aemond was the first to put his swarming thoughts to spoken word.

“This should be our wedding day, kēlītsos,” he began, his eye burning into yours as he took a step closer – another and it may be considered indecent. “I wonder if that fact haunts you as it does me.”

Being this close to him always set your body alight, the heat blazing beneath every inch of your skin and begging for the coolness that accompanied his lips. “Every moment,” you replied, your voice quiet and so intentionally only for him. “You should have taken me across the sea on Vhagar where no one would follow or find us.”

The corners of his mouth barely twitched upward in a smile – the first you’d seen from him in months – your words almost pulling a growl from his chest. One of his gloved hands twitched toward yours, his fingers lightly grazing against your wrist, tempting him to pull you closer and closer until no one, not even his brother, could take you away from him. It was foolish to speak this way so openly with so many potential listeners nearby, but neither of you truly cared. “It may happen still.”

“Is this your way of telling me you love me, Prince Aemond? It is not immensely traditional, I’m afraid,” you taunted, eyes finding his face again and appreciating his features. “Though, I suppose it is your rebellious heart that has won my love, as well.”

“Sister,” Helaena greeted as she interrupted the moment between the two of you, his expression immediately hardening as he withdrew his hand from your wrist again. “I wish to walk in the garden with you before you retire to bed. Would you join me?”

With a final longing glance you departed, joining your sister-in-law for one of her nightly walks, growing ever-more dread-filled as the time passed and your return to your wedding duties continued. Soon enough, you thought, Aegon would be crawling between your legs, no doubt smelling like wine and dirt and dragons in the least endearing of ways. The thought made your stomach twist into knots more and more until the Princess had walked you back to your bedchamber, entering the warm room with you. 

“The dragon sings at the moon’s brightest hour.”

She departed then, leaving you alone with a puzzled look on your face as multiple handmaidens joined you to remove the elegant gown that weighed you down, allow you to bathe, and help you into night clothes, removing your hair from the intricate style to lay loose. They put more wood on the fire and withdrew, remarking that one of the girls, Marleya, would be around should you need her. It was ironic to know that your husband regularly found himself buried in her, when he was failing to fulfill his obligation to you on your wedding night. Between the walk and the routine the handmaidens had carried out, hours had passed, and while you still felt the looming dread that Aegon may call on you, it had twisted into something far more pathetic. Soon you were sat on the open window overlooking the city, fixing your eyes to the sky with a forlorn expression covering your face as you envied what it would feel like to be able to fly away at any moment.

You were not the only one in the Red Keep troubled by your thoughts, as Aemond found himself wandering the halls since you had departed from him. Though he tried to think of something else, anything else, he could not prevent his thoughts from wandering back to his brother likely consummating his marriage, claiming something from you he had no right possessing. It made him sick to think of the way Aegon would treat you for the first time, almost sick enough to manifest fully. 

He hadn’t planned to walk past Aegon’s room, and yet that’s exactly where his feet carried him shortly after 11, the familiar halls as he approached causing him to draw in deeper, steadier breaths, preparing himself for whatever he may hear. As he rounded the final corner he was greeted with the sight of his stumbling, drunken older brother holding the door to his bedchamber open for one…two…three…four…working women from King’s Landing, their quiet giggles being shushed by him until they were all nestled inside with him close behind. When the door closed with a heavy thud, Aemond released a breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding. 

If Aegon was partaking in his usual activities, that meant you were alone. And while it pleased him to know his brother had not pulled you into his bed just yet, it also made the anger burn inside of him. This was, after all, your wedding night and you had looked so beautiful in his house colors – and now you were alone. 

It was approaching the middle of the night when your thoughts were interrupted. 

“Your Grace,” came the voice of Marleya. She was quiet, timid – not wanting to interrupt the state she knew you were in but unable to refuse what had been asked of her. “Apologies for the interruption. Prince Aemond has come to request a word with you, my Queen.”

When you heard the light fall of his boots against the stone floor you inhaled a deep breath, trying to steady your breathing so you could talk without giving away your emotional state. Although you wanted to seek the comfort you had so often found in his face you kept your eyes forward, back to him as you continued to look at the night sky. When his footsteps silenced relatively close behind your position you inhaled another deep breath to prepare yourself for whatever additional torment was fated for your night. 

“Your Grace,” came his quiet timbre, the moniker pulling a sigh from you. Hearing anything but your name from him sounded so foreign – so wrong. 

“Yes, Prince Aemond,” you managed in response, mentally thanking yourself for the composure you kept over your words. 

“I have come to pass news of your…good husband,” he began, his words laced with venom and disgust. Judging by his words, your handmaiden had lingered in the bedchamber, so you were not alone with another man – improper indeed on your wedding night. “I feel it best if the information is delivered between family.”

You briefly turned your head to direct a glance at the girl, who was not much younger than you, offering a light smile. “Thank you, Marleya. I am in safe hands with my…brother. You may retire for the night.”

The girl nodded before exiting, closing the door to the bedchamber as she went. Aemond watched her go, confirmed the door was closed with a lingering glance before turning his eyes to the back of your head. You had returned your gaze to the stars twinkling above the sky, wondering how it would feel to be there – to be so very far away. 

“I thought that your Grace should be informed that I have witnessed our King entering his own bedchamber not long ago,” he started, almost expecting you to turn to watch him speak. It was curious when you did not look in his face when he spoke. “He seemed to be quite full of alcohol. Not to worry, though, he had escorts to ensure his…satisfactory retirement for the night. You need not wait for his arrival here.” He watched as your shoulders lowered with the release of a shaky breath, the visible signification of your faltering anxiety. 

“Is this all, Prince Aemond? You’ve come to remind me my good husband is a drunken whoremonger?” you questioned; harsh words softened by the meekness in your voice. Despite your insistence to keep your face from him and hide your tears, your voice had begun to shake – as had your shoulders. Aemond was familiar with both. 

He stepped forward, the sound of his boots drawing nearer both sending your body alight and filling it with dread. When he stood just behind you his arms wrapped around you from behind, pulling you back against his chest as he had done so many times. You wondered if this would be the last. “What troubles you? I should think it is a comfort my brother will not summon you tonight,” he spoke lightly, lowering his head down to rest his chin atop your head. 

“A woman’s wedding is supposed to be the greatest day of her life,” you began, forsaking strength in his arms and relying on him to support you. “And yet I feel like my life has been ripped away from me.”

“It is unfair, your Grace,” he began, his warmth radiating through you and settling into a familiar comfort deep within you that only he could bring. His voice was so soft, so sincere, so unlike it had been each time you had heard him speak in the last few months. “My brother is a fool to ignore such a beautiful bride. You were art brought to life in our house colors.”

You released another deep breath you didn’t fully realize you were holding, the relaxation in your torso allowing him to wrap his arms around you tighter. Even now you wore the Targaryen colors – a thin black night dress and an even longer, lighter red robe. Aemond wanted nothing more than to pin you against the wall like the art he viewed you as – even more now with your face free of additions and hair left loose. You raised onto your knees, turning simultaneously to plant yourself in his arms fully, chest pressed to his in an inherently indecent manner consider your new titles. Neither of you had ever cared for such.

You titled your head back to allow him a true look at your face – cheeks streaked with tear trails, bottom lip red and swollen from your incessant biting, and eyes red, glossy and puffy from undoubted hours of crying. Even under the despair in your eyes he could see the lingering hope, the love that burned for him hiding in the depths and screaming to break free. He raised one hand to cup your cheek in it, the cool leather coming against your warm cheek cueing a shiver up your spine. 

Without giving you a chance to stop them more tears spilled over your cheeks, his glove soaking up the tears on one of your cheeks. Having spent so much time around Aemond in your life you knew what the subtle looks behind his remaining eye meant. That fact was doing nothing to help sedate the burning you felt for him as you met his gaze, facing the concern, the care and the longing he was harboring directly. The intensity caused your breath to catch in your throat.

“Īlē ñuhon, kēlītsos, [You were mine, little cat]” he sighed, leaning his forehead against yours and closing his eye. His perfect nose lightly brushed against yours, his arms wrapping around your waist tighter. He reveled in the way you melted to him, joining your form to his in a way that was so unique to the two of you. “I should have claimed you long ago.”

His thumb began to brush lightly against your cheek, the desire to free himself of his gloves and feel you again growing stronger. Your breath caught in your throat briefly before you found the word you sought in a language so different from your own, albeit hardly above a whisper. “Ñuhon.”

“Kessa, kēlītsos, [Yes, little cat]” he breathed, the tip of his nose kissing yours lightly. “Lions, like dragons, do not belong to people. We belong to ourselves. But you have always been mine, and I have always been yours.” He brushed your cheek again gently, his fingertips so uncharacteristically light as the fire behind his eyes burned into yours. “You may be his wife to the kingdom, but the gods know you are mine.”

You felt more tears spill over your lashes, a sigh falling from your lips as Aemond twisted his head barely, pressing his lips to one of your cheeks to kiss the tear away. You only melted into him further, nuzzling your face into his hand that still rested on your cheek. It was a crime to be certain, his next move – and yet there was nothing truly wrong with the way he turned his head again, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss so soft it was nostalgic of the first you’d shared years ago now. Although you should have pulled away, or at the very least hesitated, you returned his kiss without second thought. When he spoke next his words were muffled by your lips.

“I came to do what my brother will not and give you a proper wedding night,” he began, pressing another kiss to your lips when his thought was complete. “If it is not your wish, stop me now. I will listen to your command – I will leave these walls and not speak of this again if you ask it.”

You almost hesitated, almost took a moment to consider your answer, but threw any caution to the wind by granting him another kiss – rougher, needier, more desperate and yet still softer than Aemond felt he’d ever deserve. He grasped you tighter, his fingertips indenting into the soft skin on your cheek as his other hand clutched the fine fabric on your lower back, holding you closer to him. 

“I do love you, kēlītsos [little cat],” he muttered against your lips, unwilling to pull away but needing to say the words aloud nonetheless. “I have thought the words so many times now and never found it in myself to say them, though I should have before now.”

His hands left you to work on his own tunic, content with baring himself in some way to you first as he awaited your response. Your lips claimed his in another kiss before you found quiet words to whisper to him. “I have loved you for so long, Aemond, but he…he would kill me for this.”

“He wouldn’t dream of ordering harm to you with me to face.”

How long had he been thinking about this? Had he wanted to do this for years? Had he been considering taking you for months before Aegon could leading up to your wedding, or had something finally snapped in his mind today? Regardless of when it had happened – his mind was made up, and there was nothing that could be said to change his mind. 

He discarded the thick black fabric from his torso to the floor, uncaring where it landed before he claimed your lips in another full kiss, his hands making busy with the thin tie around your waist. Craving the way he’d kissed you in the dragon pit only months ago you parted your lips for him, his tongue immediately staking claim on the warmth of your mouth. As he pushed the robe from your shoulders, he carefully placed the clothing on a surface close by, taking much more care in your belongings than his own. There was nothing worth doing so fast he couldn’t show you that he cared for you – deeply. The extra time would never be a bother with you.

He was thankful your night dress was thin and loose enough to slide down your shoulders carefully, his head bowing to press kisses down the top of one of your shoulders as he pushed the straps free, hands grasping your hips to pull you close. When the bare skin of your torsos met both of you released a sigh, Aemond tucking his head into your neck and holding you close for a moment, relishing in the warmth passing between the two of you. This close you could feel his heartbeat, and the raised skin of whatever wounds he’d found himself on the receiving end of already, so young in many ways and old in several more. 

His lips started trailing up your neck, pulling a quiet gasp from you as your hands grasped his shoulders. He slid his hands to your lower back again to hold you as close as possible as his lips trailed lower, brushing over your collarbone. Aemond had been patient, and he could be for a while longer – as long as he got to feel as much of you as possible beneath his fingertips and lips.

He held you against him tightly, moving the two of you in front of the fireplace so he could see your body under the warm glow of the flames. As you followed his silent instruction your hands slid down his torso, eyes running over every inch of him hungrily as your fingers traced over the old scars you’d felt against you moments ago. He grasped your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head backward so you would gaze up at him, and with your attention where he wanted it, he reached his other hand to cup one of your breasts, rubbing his thumb over your already hardened nipple gently. He sank to his knees in front of you slowly, covering you with feather-light kisses as he went, his every movement laced with intent as his kisses trailed to your hips. 

Though the heat that spread throughout your body had created a fog that shrouded your mind, you found a moment of clarity. Reaching your hands to hold the sides of his face carefully and applying just enough pressure for him to respond you lifted him back up to you, sliding one of your hands to rest on his shoulder. You pressed your lips to the corner of his mouth before trailing them up the side of his face gently before brushing them, impossibly light and so full of love, across the lower part of the old scar that still brought him pain. The hand that still rested on his cheek slid to the back of his head, fingers dancing over the strap that secured the covering to his face. 

“Kostilus [please],” you whispered gently, your quiet request filling his ears and pulling a gentle sigh from his lips. “I don’t wish for you to be hidden from me, Aemond.” It was the only time you were assertive with him, running your nose along his cheek to press a kiss beneath his ear. His breath caught in his throat, hands grasping at your waist as a quiet groan rumbled in his chest. He gave a firm nod, and you immediately pulled the patch free from his head, lying it carefully on the lounge next to you before whispering a quiet thank you. 

“I see my sister has been teaching you to mind your manners in our ancestral tongue,” he purred, sliding one of his hands up your back to run his hand over your hair, encouraging you to look at him. The moment you tilted your head back for him he claimed your lips, only momentarily before he withdrew to give you a moment to run your eyes over his face appreciatively. 

“Vhagar is the most fearsome dragon alive, and she wears many scars,” you cooed, leaning forward to press a kiss to the upper half of the scar on his face, your hand resting on his cheek to allow your thumb to brush over the bottom half. “The strongest dragons always do.”

While he wanted to claim your lips again in a kiss, he couldn’t hold himself back any further, lifting you into his arms to carry you to the bed as he gazed down into your face with an expression that melted further into love the longer it went on. He laid you in the bed with your head against the pillow before he crawled between your legs, encouraging your legs apart with the gentle caress of his hands. His lips followed his fingers on their path, soaking in the quiet mewls that he was already pulling from you. With your sex bared to him he could see your wet arousal leaking from your entrance, your thighs slick with the arousal he’d brought on.

He slid one of his hands higher up your thigh, a singular finger gathering some of the slick before he brought it to his face, popping the digit into his mouth with an appreciative hum. A wave of heat crashed through you accompanied by a gasp as your mouth fell open, the expression pulling a quiet chuckle from him as he lowered his head down, licking a stripe up the inside of your thigh with another low hum.

“Every inch of you is more beautiful than my mind could have done imagined,” he whispered into your skin before pressing a gentle kiss to your thigh. With one last glance to your face, he moved forward, running his tongue between your folds and grasping your thighs, holding you down slightly as you moaned for him. Wanton and greedy, he ran his tongue through your folds several more times before he could speak again. “I should throw you atop Vhagar now and flee so my brother may never taste you.”

With those final parting words, he dove into your awaiting sex, his tongue devouring you hungrily as the knowingly quiet symphony of your moans filled the bedchamber. He flicked the muscle over your swollen bundle of nerves, causing your hips to buck up slightly which only resulted in him grabbing you tighter, holding you against his face. Running his tongue downward again he dipped it inside your awaiting heat, groaning at the feeling. 

Alternating between licks and sucks against your sensitive clit and fucking his tongue into you hastened the pressure building inside your lower half, your breaths becoming desperate as your thighs shook against his head. Feeling your walls flutter around his tongue he finally connected a thumb to your clit, rubbing it with the gentlest of circles as white-hot euphoria blinded your vision, his other hand reaching to clamp down over your mouth to stifle the scream that left your chest. Disconnecting his mouth from you, he continued his gentle movements with his thumb, his eyes gazing up to your face like he’d just discovered some fabled hidden treasure.

“I could stay here for hours feasting on you, beloved,” he cooed, leaning forward to lap up more of your nectar with a low groan in his chest. 

“Please, Aemond…” you whined, already sensitive and satisfied and yet desperate for more. 

“You want me to keep my head between your thighs, my Queen?” he pondered with that cocky, overly smug tone that always made you squeeze your thighs together. Another quiet whimper fell from your lips as you shook your head, breaths still desperate and mind still hazy from your orgasm.

“No, Aemond, I need you…please,” you began, shifting your hips against his hand to attempt for more pressure as his lips began to trail back up your body. He flattened his hand against your mound, allowing you to rub yourself on him – your desperation doing nothing to sedate his smirk. “Kostilus [please]. Don’t be cruel to me.”

His lips reached yours then, a gentle kiss carefully tucked into the corner of your mouth before he settled himself between your legs, leaning back on his haunches carefully. “Daor sir, gevie mēre [not yet, beautiful one],” he began, raking his eyes over your flushed figure beneath him in appreciation. “I have to open you up for me first.”

The hand that was still settled at your core dipped lower, one of his fingers teasing at your entrance in slow, tantalizing circles. When he’d pulled another moan from you and watched your face falter as you did, he slipped his index finger into your awaiting velvet channel. He felt your body tense at the intrusion, your walls clenching around his finger immediately. He wiggled it slightly, clicking his tongue against his teeth – more-so in concentration rather than disappointment. 

“Lykirī,” he cooed as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I cannot make you feel good if you don’t relax yourself for me, beloved.” You could only lean your forehead to his as you nodded, closing your eyes and inhaling in a deep breath. He withdrew the digit from you before thrusting it back in again slowly, the edges of his lips ticking upward as you released a quiet whimper. “That’s better.”

Within minutes he had relaxed you, his finger circling and wiggling inside of you with each thrust, pulling more moans from you as your body became accustomed to his movements. He added a second finger soon after, causing a gasp to fall from your lips and your hips to buck forward against his hand. Pressing another kiss to your lips he then trailed them lower again, sucking your swollen clit between his lips gently as he curled his fingers inside to rub against the rough patch behind your clit. 

“A-Aemond…” you moaned, earning a groan from him as he then flicked his tongue against your clit, massaging it gently as he continued to wiggle his fingers against the spot deep within you that was causing your thighs to begin to shake again. When he began to suck on the sensitive bundle of nerves again a second wave of euphoria washed over you, a rush of wetness covering his hand as he pleasured you through the orgasm. 

Removing his fingers from you and chuckling quietly and the whimper you released from the loss, Aemond moved to stand beside the bed, working himself free of his pants which had begun to painfully restrict his throbbing cock. Once his member was free, he wrapped his fingers around it, stroking himself as he watched your breathing return to somewhat of a normal state, eyes roaming over your body appreciatively and the wetness that already covered your bed clothes. 

When you opened your eyes again and turned your head to gaze up at him you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, cheeks flushed and eyes glazed over. His free hand grasped one of yours gently, guiding it upward toward his cock in silent suggestion. When you wrapped your lithe fingers around his member he threw his head back in a moan, the noise turning to a low, rumbling growl in his chest as you mirrored his stroking movements from moments before.

Unable to deny his needs any longer he climbed back onto the bed between your legs, sighing at the loss when you removed your hand from him but appeasing himself by rubbing his cock against your core. Wrapping his own hand around himself again, he rubbed his leaking head between your folds to gather some slick against it. “Beg me again, my love. You sound so gorgeous when you beg for me.”

“Please, Aemond,” you breathed out, wrapping your legs around his waist in knowing anticipation. “Kostilus [please].”

He pushed into you slowly then, his thick cock sliding into your entrance and pulling an almost too loud cry from your lips, the protest silenced by his lips soon. His lips molded to yours as your hot channel took inch by inch of him, a low groan rumbling in his chest as he finally felt your tight walls embrace him. When he was fully sheathed inside you, he licked across the seam of your lips, stilling his waist as he kissed you deeply for several moments. 

When your legs around his waist started to relax just a bit and your walls fluttered around him, he slowly withdrew from you before pushing his cock back in to the hilt, pulling away from the kiss to hear the moan that left your lips. 

“So tight,” he breathed against your mouth quietly, beginning to repeat his slow and intentional thrusts. “I should have been enjoying your little cunt for years now.”

You could only whine at his words, too overstimulated and focused on how full you felt and the lingering pain of being stretched this way for the first time to form coherent words. His hair fell beautifully over his shoulders and brushed against your torso with his movements, a piece covering his eye from your view. When you lifted a hand to move the piece away from his face he smiled, turning his head to press his lips into your fingers before moving his kisses to your neck.

“Oh, the way you feel around me…” he groaned before pressing a kiss beneath your ear, his pace already picking up slightly. You were so tight and warm around him and he had wanted you for so long, the sheer feeling of finally being inside of you was not going to allow him a long session with you. There would, of course, be others, likely even in the same night – but for now he could only give in to the pleasure filling every cell in his body. “I’m going to come back here every night until I have filled your womb with my babe.”

You nearly moaned too loud again, your walls fluttering around him at his brazen, forbidden words. He lifted his head to gaze into your eyes again, leaning to press a kiss against your lips to assist you with muffling your cries as he picked up his pace more, grinding his hips into yours each time he’d gone as far as he could go. Though you were already feeling weak you managed to nod enough for him to register, your confirmation pulling a smile across his face. 

“Oh, you like that, kēlītsos?” he questioned, giving another particularly slow and intentional thrust to massage his velvety head against the spot deep within you. You moaned his name quietly, a worthy award for his efforts. “You want me to empty my seed into you? Speak it.”

“Yes, Aemond,” you whimpered immediately, knowing he would require an answer, knowing he needed to feel that power over you. His pace picked up again as another growl ripped through his chest, the lewd sounds of your bodies joining together creating a dizzying symphony in the room that he would gladly listen to forever.

“We will create the perfect dragon,” he replied, letting his intentions be fully known on the chance you hadn’t understood yet. “Strong, and smart, and beautiful, and powerful…much better children than Aegon could hope to give you.”

You nodded your agreement, moving your lips against his slowly, almost cautiously in a kiss to silence another loud cry that came from his lips as he rocked against your cervix. One of his hands reached to grasp yours, lifting it above your head as he lowered his own to connect his mouth to one of your budded nipples, suckling at it with fervor in the hopes it would push you closer to the edge. 

Your breaths soon became more desperate, legs shaking around his waist as the hand that wasn’t being held in his found way to the back of his head, your fingers lacing into his hair. He disconnected his mouth from your tit with a gentle bite to your nipple, an almost sinister smirk covering his features as you cried out for him again. “Will you release for me again, beloved? Find euphoria with me,” he almost begged, quickly adjusting his words to a simple instruction. 

You nodded, vision going white again as he reconnected his mouth to yours, kissing you with more passion than he had thus far. With your walls clenching him tightly he found his own release, hot spurts of his cum painting your walls as a loud cry of his own ripped through his chest, thankful once again that your mouth swallowed most of the volume. 

At the same time Aemond’s sound of pleasure filled the bedchamber the familiar cry of Sunfyre was heard above the castle, an interruption in the night sky no doubt caused by the new king taken a drunken flight to impress his chosen whores for the night. As Aemond released your mouth from his when his orgasm had finished, he leaned his head against your shoulder to speak through bated breaths. 

“Perhaps he will fall from his dragon and become so injured I must rule in his stead.”

masterlist.

[seonghrtz]

teen!megumi ★ megumi can't help being jealous when he sees you talking to noritoshi kamo.

With the Kyoto Sister School Goodwill Event and the return of Itadori Yuji, Megumi hardly had time to talk to you. Not to mention the fact that he had hardly seen you since your third year had been suspended and the elders had taken the opportunity to fill you up with missions all over Japan. However, since it was the Goodwill Event, you were able to free yourself from the day's missions to accompany and help with whatever was needed ⸻ even though your students couldn't participate in this year's event.

And Megumi hoped to find you before the first activity of the day. Maybe you were walking around or helping to prepare something for the day's event, or maybe you were accompanied by Shoko, your best friend, or even Utahime, your senpai, whom you didn't see so often because of the distance. Or maybe Gojo had already found you and stuck to you like a magnet. The only thing Megumi hadn't expected was to see you accompanied by Noritoshi Kamo.

And he certainly didn't expect to feel a tightening in his chest when he saw the two of you interacting.

You and Noritoshi were from the same clan, the same family. You had similar abilities and maybe even more in common than just blood and lineage. Noritoshi had more in common with you than Megumi ever would and that bothered him.

Fushiguro didn't know why it bothered him to see you next to Noritoshi, he didn't know why your gentle smile towards the other Kamo affected him as much as it did at that moment. He had never felt that way before and he certainly didn't want to feel that tightness in his chest again so soon.

He watched as Noritoshi bowed to you with a slight smile on his face and went on his way, leaving you alone to go back on your way.

"Megumi." You smiled in his direction and moved closer to give him a firm hug. "I know you moved into the dorm, but that doesn't stop you from going home. You know that, don't you?"

Home.

As a child, Megumi didn't believe that he would one day feel comfortable enough to call a place home until he was taken into your arms. In a way, he understood why Gojo had fought tirelessly to win you over. You were like a saint sent to earth to help lost and desolate souls ⸻ and Megumi and Gojo were no exception to those lost souls. Perhaps the only thing that distinguished you from Megumi's biological mother was blood, but blood isn't always what defines a real family. And by what he considered a miracle, Megumi had found a family. Together with Tsumiki, you (and Gojo) were his family.

"Gumi..." You put your hands on his shoulders and looked worriedly at the boy in front of you, "Are you okay? Are you alright?"

"Can we have ice cream when this is all over?"

"Of course we can. We can go to that ice cream parlor that sells handcrafted ice cream!" You smiled excitedly, "But first you have to win an event." You hugged Megumi tightly and the boy returned the gesture with the same intensity. "But remember, no matter what the result, you will always make me proud!"

"Thanks, Mom." Megumi broke off the hug and smiled weakly in your direction.

Maybe Megumi didn't have to worry about Noritoshi Kamo and even less about the bad feeling he got when he saw the two of you. After all, it was Megumi Fushiguro who was your greatest pride.

© seonghrtz, 2023. all rights reserved, please do not copy / steal / translate / modify any of my works !

[baby-tini]

TW- Yandere Manila!Mikey, Implied murder, Threats of murder, Implied kidnapping, hints of noncon, forced affection, Abuse, Implied stalking in Y, Manipulation, Victim blaming. Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get? Manila Mikey, in this timeline, is pretty standoffish. He's not super affectionate besides the occasional kiss or round of sex, he just.. watches you. He'll sit and stare until you start to get chills, he's not the most friendliest or passionate at this point.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling? Well, in this timeline, he's already killed his friends, so obviously, he's not against killing for you. I do see the relationship more of a convenience for him, as in, he was probably lonely or you caught his interest. So he's willing to do whatever it takes to keep you safe until he's done with you.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them? He'd be very upfront with you, he may not tell you his intentions at first, but he'd make it known from the get-go that you are too behave and follow his rules. He won't be cruel or mock you and he can be pretty nice- sweet even, when you behave. He mostly leaves you be, sometimes when your asleep, he'll run his fingers through your hair.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will? Yes, he would. He truly doesn't care what you want, if he wants sex, you're having sex. If he wants a kiss and you try to move away, he'll grab you by the throat and kiss you, shoving his tongue down your throat. If he wants to hug you and you push at his chest, he's pinning you to him and holding you there until he lets you go.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling? Not any really, you have caught him in moments of vulnerability, where he's thinking about his past and the friends he killed, reminiscing about Toman and the fun he had as a child but that was all accidental, he'd never purposely be vulnerable.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back? Don't. Fucking. Try. Mikey, himself, has said he doesn't hit women. I do believe he wouldn't put his hands on you unless he was deep in his dark impulses, but he is much stronger then you, more experienced in fighting, his reaction time is faster, I mean, this man got hit with a steel fucking pipe and took it, like it was nothing. There's no point in fighting or trying too fight, cause you'll lose. 100%.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape? It's not a game, don't treat it like one, cause it will end bad for you. Don't try too escape either, he will catch you and he'll either bring you back and tie you down or he'll kill you, simple as that.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them? The first time you, in his words, threw a tantrum. Right off the bat, he makes it known that he won't take any bullshit, no bad behaviour, no back talk, no escape attempts. Nothing. So, when you throw a "tantrum" he wraps his hand around your throat as he holds his gun to your head and stares you down, eyes empty as he flicks off the safety.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling? He doesn't have one, he wants his life to come to an end. With you though, if he's done with you, he'll kill you. But, until then, he'll just go with it and whatever happens, happens.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope? So, you're locked away, in his apartment. You're not going anywhere, you won't see anyone, won't talk to anyone but him. There's no one too get jealous of because there's no one but him around you. You're family and friends are gone, you'll never see them again. It's just him.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling? As I said, he's pretty standoffish but he can be sweet, rarely. If you've been relatively good for him, he'll let you sit on his lap and lay on his chest as he plays with your hair and nuzzles into your neck leaving the occasional kiss.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling? He doesn't court or approach you, he takes you.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else? No, Mikey doesn't beat around the bush, he's very upfront with you and what he expects from you and how you should behave. He sees no point in playing pretend when he has you too himself.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling? Well, depends on what you did. He has different punishments for certain behaviours. If you try too or succeed in escaping, he might break a bone or tie you down. If you refuse too eat, you don't get food for a while. If you act like a brat and give him mouth, he'll bend you over his knee, and this man? He hits hard.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling? He gives and takes privileges, depending on your behaviour and his mood. Like I said , if you refuse too eat what he gives you, you'll go hungry for a bit. If you try and lock yourself in a room, you're not allowed any privacy. You're taking a piss? Don't care, keep the door open. But if you're good, he'll give you high quality food, buy you the best smelling body washes, give you the prettiest clothes and treat you nice.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling? He can be pretty patient, but again, he doesn't take disrespect from anyone. It doesn't matter that you're starving and you're irritable, you'll need to ask him nicely and behave. He has the mindset that if he lets you get away with one thing, you'll try and get away with multiple things. So, it's best he shuts that shit down immediately.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on? He would do everything in his power too get you back, no money, resources or manpower is enough. But, if you do successfully get away, however that may be. He wouldn't care at first but then he'd start too miss having someone around and if he really did like you- love even. He'd be very upset.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go? No and no. He doesn't feel guilty because it's not about you, if he wants you to stay with him, you will stay with him. No amount of pleading and crying will change that.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)? I'd say, boredom and loneliness. His friends are dead, his family's gone, he has no one. So when he sees you, looking so pretty and sweet, he wants you, and he takes you.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves? You can't isolate yourself, there's no door he can't kick down, quite literally. There's no space he can't get you out of and there's absolutely no place you can hide. Screaming and crying though? Depends on how he feels, he might just sit there and watch you and wait it out, or he'll become very hand's on and make you stop crying and screaming because sometimes, it does piss him off.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere? He's not super obsessive or clingy, he's sometimes not even around because of his... job. Also, like I said, he will kill you when he's done with you.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape? Not many if any, you obviously can't fight him, can't really run from him or hide. So, it'll mostly have to be mental. You could try and play on the little empathy he has left, if you did know his family, you could play on that. Ask him what Draken and Shinichiro would think if they knew what he's done or how his friends would think of him now... but be careful because that could get him too back off or piss him off even more.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling? Yes. Yes he would. Especially if you try and challenge his authority, he's very used too people bowing to him, following his every order and looking up to him like a God essentially, so, when you challenge him and test him, he'll lose it.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over? There's no winning you over, you're his whether you like it or not. Worship though? No. You, are supposed to worship him, not the other way around.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap? There's no pining, he does it more on impulse, he would only wait if there's people around and he can't take you away. He doesn't have a problem fighting or killing people but it's so much easier for the both of you if you just come quietly and behave.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling? If it was necessary? Absolutely, yes he would.

[spidybaby]

One where you're Gavi's older sister and you have a bad relationship. You and Pedri have a secret relationship and at a party Gavi find out about the relationship and is mad at you not at pedri because he doesn't wants to loose him as a friend

Golden Child | part 1

Summary: You're Pablo's older sister, even tho you don't have a good relationship you help him during his injury and find yourself getting involved with Pedri.

Warnings: cursing.

A/N: So I write Gavi as a toxic brother, but I don't think he's like that at all. Also, Aurora is going to be older. Please keep in mind that this is fictional, not based on reality. Love you 💛

Part two | Part Three

Growing up with a brother like Pablo was not easy. He used to be everybody's favorite. He was the star of the family. He was he.

Something that he couldn't be was his parents number one child. Something he hated. Specifically, he couldn't beat the way his parents loved his older sister.

He grew up with two sisters. Aurora, who's twenty-four, and Y/n, who's twenty one.

Aurora and him were very close. They enjoyed doing things together. They were like a team.

On the other hand him and Y/n never had a good relationship. Not because she didn't want to, but because Pablo heavily dislike her.

She was the picture-perfect child. Perfect grades, perfect attitude, always doing what she's told to do. Pablo was not a bad kid, but he wasn't her.

Growing up, they used to be civil with each other. Respecting their personal space, not fighting.

Everything changed when Arturo, who used to be Pablo's best friend, fell in love with his sister. She was fourteen, and they were twelve. She, of course, never had any interest in Arturo.

But one night, when Arturo told her that he was in love with her, she was fifteen. She laughed, finding the whole situation funny. Rejected the thirteen year old boy and walked away from the scene.

Arturo didn't take that well. He felt humiliated. He fought with Pablo, telling him that he never wanted to be close to him or his sister.

Pablo never understood what happened, so he blamed his sister for it. That's where the fights began there. Pablo used every chance he had to bother his sister.

He used to leave her out of things, pull her hair, hide her things, and delete her important things from her computer.

His parents scold him and ground him without playing football. But that didn't work. After a while, she got used to it and didn't even told her parents about it anymore.

When Pablo became more serious with football, he focused his whole energy on the field. But he never agreed on fixing things.

Every time Aurora tried to be the mediator, she ended scolding Pablo about the hurtful things he said to her, making her cry. Pablo ended up laughing and leaving the room. Luckily for him, she moved to Barcelona to study.

For Pablo, the best moment in his career was when he became part of Barça first team. He was all smiles, and no doubt you were proud of your baby brother.

When your parents called you and told you that he got limited people to be there and had to choose for you to not join them when the announcement was made, it broke your heart.

Aurora found out that was a lie when she was helping him with some things for that day, she immediately told you.

She wanted you to go with the whole family and even told you she was telling your parents about what Pablo did. But you begged her not to, you didn't want to be the reason his day was ruined.

"Rora, por favor." You begged. "Don't tell mom."

"I'm just so mad at him. How dare he lied to us that way?"

"I don't know, but it's okay. He can choose who to have there."

"You're his sister."

"It's okay. I promise I'm okay."

You were not okay with the news, but you fake a smile and told Aurora how relieved you were because you had nothing to wear. Lies, you spend your savings on buying a nice outfit for the occasion. That night, you cried yourself to sleep.

Having him close but so far at the same time was horrible. You tried everything in you to get to see him but after all the read text, after he didn't return any of your calls or even try to make a space for you in his life, you were done hurting yourself. So you decided to have zero contact with Pablo.

He saw the glory, acting like Aurora was his only sister. He even started to tell new people in his life that, yes, Aurora was his only sister. Thing that neither Aurora nor you knew about, thinking it was because people didn't know about you for not being as public as Aurora.

It wasn't easy, seeing him everywhere in posters at every place in Barcelona, or the games, or when you see people wearing his number on their jerseys. But you had to remember that he was the one that didn't want you there, and as much as it hurts, you respect his decision.

"But mami, why am I supposed to do?" You ask uninterested. "I get he's hurt but, he's not dying."

"Y/n, please. I know you have your own things going on, but neither Daddy nor I can go to check him. And Aurora is on finals. Please baby."

Pablo got injured during a game. His muscles were not very good, and he needed to rest. Your parents were in Sevilla. They couldn't just leave work and go to check on him.

So they ask you to take care of him. You nicely said no because you didn't want to put yourself in a position where Pablo could easily attack you.

But when they find out he needed help to do things like getting upstairs, get dressed carefully, and take his medication. Your parents start begging you to help them.

"Okay, I'll do it." You say frustrated. "But what am I supposed to do? Move myself from here to there and back again? You have no idea how expensive that is going to be."

"Mi amor, daddy and I are taking care of that. Don't worry."

"But are you sure Pablo is okay with this?"

"Si, hija. Ya te lo repetí cinco veces." (Yes, I already repeat it five times)

"Got it, I'll go to his house before he gets back from training."

"Gracias, do you know the door code? Because I have it somewhere"

"Yes, I know it." You interrupted. "Listen, I have to go get ready if I want to be on time. I'll tell him to call you."

You say your goodbyes, promising her that everything was going to be fine.

The Uber from your house to Pablo's was kind of expensive. Due to being in a zone meant for students and his being on a gated community, it was basically going to the other side of Barcelona.

"Gracias." You say getting out of the car and entering the house. Once you're inside, you find yourself amazed. It was a beautiful and very minimalistic place.

You looked around, there's pictures of him with the rest of your family, some pictures with Aurora, with his friends.

You were earlier than you expected to be. You thankfully packed your computer and books. Not wanting to just be around doing nothing.

About twenty minutes later, you heard the front door opening. You sense other voices.

"Cuidado, que no queremos que te lastimes más de lo que ya estas " (careful, we don't want you to hurt yourself more than you already are)

You stayed quiet, looking at the two boys helping Pablo.

"There you go. Let me bring you your crutches. Pedri help me with his backpack "

He stayed still, grabbing the door.

"Pablo," you say low.

He turned his head to you. He knew you would be there because your mother told him.

"Dejame ayudarte," you ask, seeing him struggling to stand on his own. (Let me help you)

"No." He harshly moved his arm from you. "My friends are doing that already."

"I know but-"

"Help me with bringing me water, I need to take a pill."

The way he turns his back to you is making you mad. You were there to help him, no need to act like a little boy.

"Is cold water okay?" You ask, he ignored you. So you take that as a yes. You walk into the kitchen, searching for the cups.

"Y/n" Pablo call you.

"Yes?"

"Can you bring another cup of water?"

"Okay." You say grabbing another cup. "A please would be nice, tho." You whisper to yourself.

You walk back, finding two other boys. One blonde and tall and other a little taller than Pablo, black hair and very full eyebrows.

"Here," you hand him the water. "This is for?" You ask.

"For me." The black hair guy says. "Thank you."

You smile at him, a little shy about starting a conversation. "Where's your medicine? You need to take not one but two pills." You say, remembering the doctors note your mother sent you.

"Only one, today they told me that I can drop the other one."

"Where is it?" You ask. He ignored you because he was on his phone

"Is in his room, I think." The blonde one says. You wanted to throw a pillow at your brother. Not even caring to answer a simple question.

You smiled and nodded, making your way upstairs and entering room for room until you found your brother's one. The pills were easy to find. They were on his nightstand, It was the only thing there.

You look at the disorder of his room, you'll help him cleaning a bit because it was hard for you to believe he can sleep with all of this.

"Found it," you say, getting back. "Do you need more water?"

"Mhm"

"I'll be back."

"But not cold water." He hands you the cup back. You nod, kind of uncomfortable with the whole interaction. After all, it was the first one in a year.

You go back in the kitchen, filling the cup with water and making another trip back to the living room.

"Hey, since Pablo is not introducing us. I'm Frenkie." The blonde one says, smiling at you.

"And I'm Pedri." The black hair one says, imitating the actions of Frenkie.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Y/n." You only smile at them, not being the best at meeting new people.

After the boys introduce themselves, they chat a little. You notice that Pablo was on his phone the whole time. Giving half answers.

"Okay, we're leaving, Pablito. Please take care." Frenkie pats him on the back. "And y/n, nice to meet you."

"Bye," Pedri says, waving. You wave them goodbye.

After they left, the silence in the room was a not so nice one for you. Pablo was in his own world, focused on his phone.

"Pablo, are you hungry?" You ask picking up the empty cups. He ignored you.

You roll your eyes, trying to control the urge to throw him a cup. "Pablo, please answer." The way he keeps ignoring you is annoying. "Okay." You walk to the kitchen, droping the cups at the sink. Go back to where he is, pick up your backpack, and walk to the front door. "Have fun."

"Wait, where are you going? Mom said You'll help me." He finally acknowledged you.

"Mira, te voy a decir algo." (Look, I'm going to tell you something) you close the door. "Yo tengo mejores cosas que hacer que cuidarte, así que si no quieres mi ayuda me voy, no voy a aguantar tus cosas." (I have better things to do rather than take care of you. So if you don't want my help, I'm leaving, I'm not dealing with this attitude)

He has this surprise but angry face. When you were a kid, you loved the way his angry face looked, but now that you're mad at him, you heavily dislike it.

"So, I'm going to ask you one more time, only one, because if you pull this silence treatment one more time, I'm out the door." You put your backpack back on the couch. "Are you hungry? Yes or no?"

"Yes, very hungry," he says, looking at his phone.

"Now," you grab his wrist and separate his phone from his face. "Would you like me to cook something for you, or do you want takeout?"

"You cook?" He scuffs

"Pablo." You warn him.

"Vale, vale, no te enojes." He lift his hands "puedes hacerme un sandwich o cualquier cosa, no sé." (Okay, okay, don't get angry. You can make me a sandwich or something, i don't know.)

You sigh. It was going to be some hard weeks.

"Pablo, c'mon man, you have to do this, or you'll never progress." You say trying to get him to apply a gel the physiotherapist sent him.

"But it stinks." He says, slapping your hand away.

"Pablo, te quedas quieto y me dejas aplicarte esto o te lo voy a pasar por la cara." (Stay still and let me apply this to you, or I'll smush it all over your face) You dig your nails to his calves, thing you used to do back when you were kids and you had a fight.

"Stop that." He says, grabbing you by the wrists. "Don't do that." His tone is strong yet he's not yelling.

"It's everything alright?" You both turn your face to Pedri, who was carrying a fast food bag and some drinks.

"No." You both say.

"Okay, I'm leaving this on the counter and I'll help you deal with this dickhead."

"Eres un imbecil, Pedro." Pablo says, angry.

"Pablito, mi vida, escuchame." You whisper sweetly. "Let me apply this. The quicker you say yes, the quicker I'll do it. Por favor."

His eyes are back on you, mad expression on his face. He puff angrily, letting your hands go. You quickly open the gel and apply it the way it's supposed to.

"Ya, calmado?" Pedri asks, laughing. "I know that gel is the worst, but it's really refreshing." Pablo puffs again. "Venga macho, vamos a comer que te traje tu comida favorita." (C'mon man, let's eat, I bring you your favorite food.)

Pedri helps Pablo walk to the table. Since his crutches were somewhere else. You go into the kitchen and wash your hands really well. He was right that gel stinks.

"I bring you something to eat, I'm not sure what you like, so sorry if it's not what you expected." Pedri says, walking into the kitchen.

"You did?" In the last few days, he was a big help with your brother, always picking him to go to his therapy and back home. He nods, smiling. "Thank you, Pedri."

"Can one of you bring more napkins?" Pablo yelled. You turn to take the napkins, giving them to Pedri.

"You're not eating with us?" He asked, confused about you opening your laptop instead of going to the table with them.

"No, I have some homework, plus, this kid for the love of God can't keep his room organized, so I'll go help him with that." You say exasperated, opening your a word document.

"You're such a good cousin."

You stop on your tracks, trying not to show your expression. "A good what?" You ask without moving your eyes from your screen.

"A good cousin, I mean you took time out of your life to take care of Pablo." The way he's saying this in such a positive way. Not even knowing how the words he just said affect you.

"How do you know we are cousins?" You ask, smiling a little, pretending to continue the conversation.

"Pablo told us, he said the first time we met you that you were his cousin that was helping him with his injury."

You only nod. Feeling how your stomach is turning.

"Go back with him. You're probably hungry. " You want him out of the kitchen, not wanting your facial expressions to betray you. "Thanks for the food."

Once his out of the kitchen, you can feel some tears pooling in your eyes. Not sure if it's anger or betrayal.

"No pensé que fueras cule." Pedri says, entering the house and leaving the bag that belongs to Pablo on the table. (Didn't think you were a cule.)

"Well, Pablo plays for the team, so I kind of am." You joke, smiling at him. "But to be honest, Alexia is the only reason I'm watching the game."

"Alexia? God, she's the best." He takes a seat next to you. "She's like a firework."

"Also, Aitana, they're my favorites."

"You should ask Pablo to introduce you to them." He laughs, "We have full access to games for the feminine team. He can take you to a game." You only nod.

Since he told you how Pablo introduce you to them as a cousin, you barely even look at him. Helping him like you promised your parents and then leaving, no words exchanged.

"I don't want to be a bother." You say, honestly.

"You won't, look, my cousin Adrian, he was the first one to ask me to introduce him to Messi." He laughs remembering. "Not even my brother."

You look down at your hands. For him, it was easy. His family and him were so close, for you, it was hard, Pablo never liked you.

"I'll think about it." You say, "Pablo is upstairs by the way."

"Joder, si no me quieres cerca dímelo." He jokes, laughing at your words. "But thank you. I'll go see him." (Fuck, if you don't want me close you can say that)

"That's not what I meant." You laugh. "But I know you're here for him."

"And what if I'm not here only for him?" He asks looking at you, smiling sweetly.

The heat creeps to your cheeks, you turn your face back to the game, not wanting him to see your red face.

He laughs at your actions, standing up from the couch. "I'll go upstairs. Hope Alexia scores." He says before walking upstairs.

"Let me get you another drink." Your friend says, taking your cup, you're at a party that she got you in, you don't even know who's hosting or anything, but you were enjoying and drinking.

"Okay, I'm going to the bathroom." You shout, walking inside, you ask a few people for the bathroom. All of them point at a door at the end of the corridor.

After using the bathroom and washing your hands, you exit ready for more drinks. Your body hit someone on the way out of the house, and the drink of this person has spilled all over you.

"Joder, lo siento mucho." The voice says, worried. "Y/n?" Pedro asks, eyes focusing on your face.

Your eyes found his. "Pedri." You smile.

"Sorry, nena. I spill this shit all over you. Come here." He grabs your hand and walks with you back into the bathroom. "Let me help you." He grabs the towel that's there. "Can I?"

You can't even control your actions. Your arms are now behind your back, giving him access to your chest area, where most of the drink spilled.

He carefully patted the towel to dry you. "Te puedo reponer el vestido, lo siento tanto" (I can pay for your dress, I'm really sorry).

"Don't worry, it was an accident."

"No, seriously. I can take you to get a new dress."

You nod smiling. Eyes fixed on his. On the way his focus expression makes him look so handsome, the way the yellow light in the bathroom hit his skin and made it shine almost perfectly.

"Wanna dance?" You ask out of nowhere, grabbing his wrist, making him stop. Fingers tapping on his skin.

"You want to dance?" He's focused on the way you look, how good you look on that dress. "With me?" He asks, scuffing.

"Is that a yes or a no?" You laugh. Your fingers grab the towel, throwing it somewhere on the floor.

He nodded quickly. You take his hand, intertwine it with yours, and walk outside to the dance floor, there's a lot of people, but you're only focusing on the guy in front of you.

Pedro is doing the same, the way you're dancing, the way you're smiling and making him dance when he doesn't know what to do.

"Pedri." You grab his arms and pull him closer to you. "You look so good tonight." Your hands caress his arms up and down, making him shiver.

"I think you're kind of drunk, bonita." He's trying to stop the thought of kissing you.

"Yet you're the one that spilled your drink on me." You laugh. He swears your laugh is adorable.

"And I'm sorry about it." He honestly says, "I'll make it up for you."

"And how are you going to do it?" You got closer to him. "Tell me." Maybe it is the alcohol in your system. Maybe it's just him.

"I have an idea." His hands are on each side of your face, fingers caressing your cheeks. "But I'm not sure if doing this while you're drunk is the right thing to do."

"Well I do think it is." You close the distance between you two, enjoying the feeling of his lips on yours.

One hand on the back of his neck pulling him closer, if that's possible, and the other playing with his hair.

His hands go down from your face to your waist, his fingers digging lightly onto your flesh. Making you moan a little at the feeling of his fingers.

Once the air run down you both separate, lips swollen from the kiss. "Any thoughts on the idea?" You joke. Pecking his lips. Action he repeats.

"I think I can help you out of the wet dress." He grabs your chin, giving you another peck. "Only if you let me." He says kissing your cheek, making you laugh.

"Aurora!" you run to her. Jumping on her arms. "I missed you so much, hermanita." You grab her face, kissing her cheek repeatedly.

"Okay, I think that's enough." She laughed putting you down. "I missed you so much, life without is so boring." She hugs you tight.

"Let's go, I got Pablo's car so we can go anywhere we want." You show her the keys, making them jiggle in your hand.

"Got it like stealing it?" She asks, raising her eyebrows.

"He was sleeping, plus he's not using it."

She laughed, giving you another hug, you walk with her to where you parked.

"So, have you guys worked on your relationship?" She asks curious. You know her question is genuine curiosity, not anything bad intended.

You're not sure if you should tell her about the whole ~she's my cousin~ situation. "I mean we haven't kill each other." You half smile.

"Okay." She narrow her eyes. "Let's try again. But this time be honest."

"It's been weird, Pablo and I barely even talk, and when we do is more a single answers" you honestly answer, "I just wish we could be like the two of you."

"Don't worry, he's just weird in general, he'll open to you." She pat your shoulder.

"When? Rora, I don't know if you notice but he's about to turn nineteen and he can't even remember when my birthday is." You say exasperated. "Pablo doesn't like me, not matter if I'm his sister, he just doesn't."

Aurora doesn't answer, mostly because she doesn't know what to say to you. She's been the one who had to witness all the dumb fights, all the times he hurted you just because.

"I know he loves you." She says, body turning to yours. "Pablo might act weird but he loves you, he told me that."

"He did?"

"Yes, he's just a stupid teenager, so don't worry about him and his weird actions. You're his sister and he loves you." She hugs your arm. "Now let's go, he might wake up soon." She laughed.

Aurora notice the change in your face. She knows that she shouldn't lie to you. But she can't stand your sad eyes when you talk about Pablo.

And even when she tried to help the situation, she haven't archived nothing more than fighting between you two.

"I made you your favorite cake." You say as you enter the house. "And I'll prepare your favorite food for dinner."

"Oh I've missed you." She kiss your cheek. "Pablo!" She yells.

"I'll get your bags." You say going back to the garage.

Grabbing the bag and going back in, when you walk into the living room you saw Pablo hugging Aurora and kissing her cheek. Telling her how much he missed her.

"Y/n will make us some yummy food." She says, hugging him by the waist. "While we wait, let's have some cake."

"I thought the smell was coming from the neighbor house." He jokes, making you two laugh. "Let me help you unpack." He takes the bag from your hands, taking Aurora upstairs.

You turn to the kitchen, getting all the ingredients put to start with the food. Interrupted by the doorbell, you yell that you'll get it.

"Hola guapa." Pedri says as you open the door. "It's Pablo here? He left this at my house and asked me to drop it."

"Hola." You sat the greeting back. "He is, get in."

After the party Pedri and you have been seeing each other here and there. Both agreeing on not telling anyone, specially not Pablo.

"They're upstairs." You walk back inside and into the kitchen.

After a few minutes, Aurora walked singing something, "Need some help?" She asks, washing her hands.

"Can you peel the potatoes? Please."

You both chat a little, catching up on some things that you have pending. She told you about her and Javi.

"So, any boys in sight?" She asks, pinching your arm. "I need to know everything."

"What everything? I'm not seeing anyone." You laugh "The only man I'm seeing is my professor. And he's very annoying."

"Oh don't tell me that, you must be seeing someone. Tell me." She pout.

"I might be seeing someone, but it's something casual." You confess.

"Are you sleeping with him?" She whispers, leaving what she's doing, interested in the conversation.

"Aurora, you don't ask people that." You joke, turning to the sink, washing your hands. "But yes, I am."

"You whore." She laugh. "I can't believe it, you and I were playing with dolls only a few years ago."

"Ay por favor." You splash her with the remaining water in your hands. "As if you don't sleep with your boyfriend."

"I am but you're my baby. I can feel this way." She fake dry a tear. "So, is he your classmate?"

"I told you it was something casual, I'm not giving you more details." You hurry with serving the plates.

While she helps with the table you finish washing some things. Focused on the job you're doing, when two cold hands grab you by the waist you jump a little at the sensation.

"Qué haces?" (What are you doing?) You ask, taking his hands away from you.

"Don't worry, they're upstairs. Aurora is getting Pablo." He says, getting closer so he can kiss you.

"Pedro, not here." You say, getting away from him.

"Let me take you home, I need you so bad." He says, trying to get closer again. "Por favor."

You hear the voices coming downstairs, "fine, but keep your hands to yourself " you quickly kiss him, pushing him outside.

"Let's eat." Aurora says, happily.

The dinner was fun, Pablo and Pedro talked about the next game. "You should come to the game. I heard that Alexia and Jana are coming." Pedro says, looking at you with picardy.

"Uhhh she loves Alexia." Aurora says. "Pablo, can you get us to take a picture with Alexia?"

"Since when do you like Alexia?" Pablo ask you, confused look on his face.

"I've always liked her. Rora and I used to watch the games all the time." You laugh, "remember when we broke that flowerpot? Celebrating when she scored."

"That poor flower." She laughs, "God, grandma hated us."

Pablo raise a brow, never paid attention to your liking for the football player, better say not knowing anything about you.

"I can get you to know her. I'll talk to Xavi tomorrow."

"Thank you." You smile at him. Eyes connecting with Pedro right after, sending him a wink.

After that moment you keep talking about random things. Pedro offers to help you with the dishes.

"Nos vamos?" (Ready to go?) He whispers, kissing your shoulder.

"Let me say goodbye to Aurora and I'll be back." You pinch his cheeks. "Say your goodbyes to Pablo."

You hurry upstairs, reaching to her room. "Hey rorita, Pedri offered me a ride home, so I'm leaving. I promise I'll be here early so I can spoil you with some breakfast."

"Don't go, we can ask Pablito to take us to your place so you get some clothes so you stay here." She pout, hugging your arm. "Stay."

"I promise I'll be here early, plus you have to rest Rorita." You kiss the top of her head. "We can get ready together."

You hug her, helping her with turning the lights off. When you were about to go downstairs you hear Pablo calling you name. "Si?"

"I texted Xavi, he told me that he can arrange a little meeting with Alexia backstage."

"Really?" You smile, exited about the news.

"Yes, I'll give Aurora the details." After saying that, he close his door.

You hurried downstairs. Opening the door, finding the canarian boy waiting for you leaning on his car.

"To your place or mine?" He asks, opening the door for you.

"Mine," you kiss him, hand on his neck. "So sad you can't stay, but you can make it up later." You joke with him. Making him laugh.

"Okay, smile." The photographer says, taking several pictures of the three of you. "Thank you. I'll send them to Gavi after the game."

"Thank you." You say. "Can we take a selfie? Please!" You take your phone out.

"All that you want" Alexia laughs, "well, not everything, I'm not up for a tik tok." She jokes.

"Oh God no, we won't ask you to do tik toks with us."

She place her hand to her heart, acting dramatic as a joke. "Thank you."

After the pictures and a little chat you both thank Alexia for her time. She says her goodbyes and left with the barca manager.

"I can't believe it." You say, jumping exited. Making Aurora jump with you too. "Omg I'm posting this on my story."

Pedro and Pablo were observing you from afar, "I think you just won the ~best cousin~ award." Pedro laughs, shaking his arm.

Pablo only nods, forgetting about him telling his friend about you being his cousin. Not wanting him to mention that in front of you or Aurora. Thinking you didn't know about it.

"Let's go back, Xavi's already mad."

"Go, I'll go to the bathroom real quick." Pedro says, turning to the other direction.

He takes his phone out. Texting you to meet him at the bathroom that's beside the changing room.

When you see it, you were about to leave to go back to your seats. "Hey, I'll go to the bathroom. I meet you on our seats." You say, walking back to the bathroom.

Not waiting for her answer you walk quickly to the end of the hall, entering the bathroom. "I think this is a women's bathroom, sir." You joke.

He won't miss time, pulling you from the waist. When his lips conect with yours, you place your arms on the back of his neck.

"So eager, was last night not enough?" You push him away to breathe. "So needy, González."

"For you?" He pecks you. "Always."

The makeout session begins again, his hands on your ass and yours on his hair.

You hear the bathroom door opening, pushing Pedro away was too late, Aurora alread saw you two. "Ay por Dios." (Oh my God) she gasp, leaving after that.

You don't even look at Pedro, quickly leaving him alone to go look for your sister. "Aurora." You yell, "please stop. I can explain." You run to her.

"Don't." She says when you grab her arm. "Let's go back to our seats."

She goes out back to the stadium seats. Leaving you there, you turn back and see Pedro getting out of the bathroom, eyes finding yours.

♡♡♡

🏷: @gaviandgrizisgirl 💛

[milliesdiary]

𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐓, 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍

𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭; you and aemond targaryen grew up together. as a pair of royal children, you shared smiles, feasts, and hushed talks of duties — until a physical altercation changed your relationship forever. after six years, you find that the young boy has become a fiery man and your betrothed. seeing each other again is difficult, but dealing with old feelings is harder. 

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠; aemond targaryen x princess!reader

𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬; arranged marriage, descriptions of past violence (physical fight between young aemond and reader)

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞; to be as inclusive as possible, i do not mention the reader’s parents’ descent. i also do not specify the reader’s skin tone, body type, eye/hair color, or hair texture (braids are used but they contribute to most hotd hairstyles). enjoy!

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭; pic 1 — pic 2 — pic 3

“𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐊, 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑.”

Those were your father’s words when you asked why you had to marry Aemond Targaryen.

Perhaps it was to be expected. As the daughter of a king in Westeros, you found that power was a constant battle to be fought and that you would not be shielded from the crossfire. In order to ensure a stable, unchallenged reign, you were to be wed to another child of royal descent — which meant being auctioned off to the most powerful house your father could get in touch with. 

It also meant being fucked, then laying in a birthing bed and living a life of what you considered to be imprisonment. And due to your family’s faithful history with the Targaryens, the wielders of dragons, and the king’s desire for ancestral power, for elite grandchildren... it shouldn’t really be a surprise, should it?

You don't wish to argue with your father, but you don't want your frustration to go unnoticed either. Although your feelings have no real impact at the end of the day, there is value in them. They matter.

But why him?

You may have dreamt of being married to a charismatic Baratheon or a seductive Velaryon. Someone who would pledge to take you on a tour of the realm's most intricate castles and verdant gardens, stealing kisses and embraces. 

Things cannot be so simple, can they?

You begged to call off your betrothal to Aemond, claiming that you would not get along, though your mother seemed to think otherwise with her rekindled political ties to the Targaryens. It was no use. Your parents had their minds set. 

This is the world you are condemned to, in which, despite yourself, you must somehow live. 

And now you are expected to meet your old friend after all these years, after that terrifying, horrific night. The night Aemond stole Vhagar, how he was beaten, how you contributed, how he left scarred for life.

The memory is still fresh in your mind. Six years ago.

One night, long after dusk, you heard arguing in the dragon pit. Curious, you approached the scene only to find Aemond in a stand-off with his nephews and nieces. He spoke of treacherous things, but was effectively shut down by Baela and Rhaena’s assaults. 

It wasn’t long before Jace and Luke both engaged in the conflict. They could not be stopped. Violent, uncontrollable rage could be heard in the loud cracks of knuckles meeting flesh and bone. Jace attacked Aemond at some point — a terrible idea — because Aemond took a swipe at him and sent him into the dirt, leaving you just... standing in shock, fear, mouth agape.

When Aemond grabbed Luke by the front of his tunic and prepared to bash his face in with a stone, you were no longer frozen. An anger brash and hot consumed you, and before you knew it, you reacted on impulse.

You ran over and pushed Aemond in the chest, effectively launching him to the ground. The boy looked up in shock to see who appeared; you remember watching the look of surprise on his face, and then the betrayal that flashed across his eyes. Before he could even speak, you had him pinned to the dirt and slammed your fist into the bridge of his nose.

His head snapped back up to look at you after that. For a moment, he stared at you wide-eyed, before his face screwed into an expression of rage. It must had been a mix of fury and instinct, because Aemond retaliated. 

Quickly, he shoved you off of him and threw a punch your way. The harsh force of it struck your cheek, painful, hard enough that you heard something crack. You were knocked over and ended up with your face pressed against the sandy pit.

You can’t recall what happened after that. There was a bunch of screaming, and then the rushed footsteps of guards who had heard the commotion. Someone had gripped your shoulders to urge you to your feet, and you almost fell forward again when everything blurred into blotches of red. The rest of the night was almost traumatic with the Queen challenging Rhaenyra, and your parents vowing to never bring you back to House Targaryen again. 

The greed for power over the years must have revoked that plan. 

You’re still not ready — not ready to confront the reality of what has become of your friendship. It hurts to even think of Aemond being impassive toward you, as you’re sure you will be to him. 

You’re not even sure what he looks like now, but you have heard stories of the man he has become.

He doesn’t need a weapon anymore. He is a weapon.

Which begs the question: how much change can a person endure before turning into someone else completely, before it is almost considered murder?

You feel sorry for the rest of castle servants and commoners; they didn’t get to experience him the way you did. They didn’t get to see what you saw when you were with him. Gods, he was perfect. 

Although it was probably your parents and the Queen who encouraged you and Aemond to meet all those years ago, they were delighted to learn that you were friends. Your father had just been crowned king, and it was necessary to meet the other Houses in the realm after doing such. You and Aemond just seemed to click after that. 

You two had identical souls, the only children who understood one another in a life that ate people alive. He never teased you for hating the duties that came with being a princess, and you never teased him for not having a dragon. When you were unified, you were more powerful.

It’s funny how things can turn out. 

Now, because the marriage in King’s Landing is next moon, you will be attending a feast tonight to see your betrothed: sitting at the same table as Aemond to dine, speaking about marriage, engaging in talks of bearing children.

It’s all too much.

Enduring change can hurt. It's frightening and adds to the lengthy array of things that make you scared. But that does not mean that it should be deemed unnecessary or ignored. You understand that.

Still, you curse this life as you step out of the carriage and onto the land of Dragonstone, peering up at the palace ahead of you. You curse it to hell.

The second you step into the Targaryen household, you realize that you are not really sure what to expect. It has been so many years. You are not prepared for this, not in the slightest.

And you certainly aren’t prepared to have the Queen greet you at the palace door instead of the knights.

It seems like a decade since you last saw her in the flesh as opposed to your memories. Her face is the exact same somehow, as if she had long conquered the battle of aging, and her brown hair is sweeped into a wavy half-up style. The emerald dress she wears sparkles with sequins, draping over her beautifully and accentuating the strings of gold jewlery along her neck. A small smile upturns the corner of her lips, and she seems pleased. Sympathetic. 

It must appear that you’re somewhere far away in thought — which is relatively true, you suppose — because Alicent says your name in greeting to grasp your attention. With a smile, you dip your head in a bow. 

“Your Grace.” 

Alicent lets out a breath of... is it relief? She moves toward you quickly, enveloping you into a bear hug. You let her. You know what she’s trying to do. 

She’s trying to reduce the rift that has grown over the years of being kept at a distance. Her embrace is a white flag, a message of peace, a silent apology. It’s successful. 

“You have grown into a fine woman, my dear,” Alicent says softly into your shoulder. 

The words conjure a strange knot in your chest; they hurt, but not out of hate or animosity. They hurt because they make you nostalgic, make you realize how much you missed House Targaryen. Your eyes prickle with the onset of almost-tears which you blink away rapidly.

And you reckon that today, in spite of Alicent's weight in your arms, you're going to have to consider what you want regarding the future. Talk about it with Aemond.

This is not about your mother, father, or the current state of your House anymore. This concerns you and your future husband.

Alicent pulls away after a few long moments, setting her hands upon your shoulders as she looks you up and down. “Your gown is lovely,” she says fondly, the statement lilted by her accent. “It suits you. Your House has always been exceptional when it comes to fashion.”

She’s right about that; your hand-maidens have always been sure to dress you beautifully. Today was no exception. 

You’re wearing a silky fitted dress, made with an airy chiffon that fades from a silvery white to a dark, shadowy hem. Sparkling silver vine details adorn the chest, drawing attention to your breasts, along with a gem-stone belt that hugs your waist. A white cape is fastened around your shoulders, accentuating the graceful flow of the gown and nearly sweeping the floor. The necklace hanging from your throat gleams — a moonstone gem — and although it’s gorgeous, your hair almost always gets tangled in it. To prevent it from happening, your servants have started pulling your hair back into a half-up dutch braid crown, not a single strand out of place. It takes hours, but the end result is worth it.

You’re practically glowing.

You offer her a kind smile as you see her eyes light up. Your stomach churns and the nape of your neck prickles, but this woman has the same open expression that Aemond had when you first met him. It brings you a jittery sort of optimism. 

“Thank you,” you say bashfully, dipping your head in thanks. Alicent then beckons over your father from where he stands behind you, two armored-knights stationed by his side. 

“It has been too long, Your Grace,” your father says, plastering a polite smile onto his aged face. Alicent returns it with one of her own.

“It has,” she agrees. “The King would dearly desire to be here, but he regrettably cannot due to his health.” She must not be willing to say much else on the topic, because her face drops. She turns on a heel to face the hallway then, holding her arm out for you to grab. “Shall we proceed to the feast?”

Upon entering the dining room, it’s exactly how you remembered it to be. 

Warm light fills the space; swathes of bronze and gold from the setting sun dip through the windows on one side, illuminating every crevice of the room. The food is already splayed out along the table, where Halaena and Aegon sit in their respective chairs. Aegon gives you a perverted look over, seemingly surprised at how much you’ve changed. If he senses your disgust, he doesn't express it. He’d likely find delight in it anyway. 

On the contrary, Halaena beams and jumps up to give you a massive hug. It fills you with such a great warmth. You’ve missed this. She was always like a sister to you.

Halaena comments on your dress and makes a pathetic attempt to mold her joyful smile into something more polite by saying, "You look beautiful, Princess."

Of course, she fails horribly, and you compliment her back. She pulls away with a giggle and loops her arm around yours to lead you to a seat — and then you see him. 

There, Aemond is seated at the end of the table, leaning back in the chair with practiced poise. Cool, composed, unmoving.

You lock eyes. 

Aemond’s hair is his crowning glory; diamond-white, perfectly straight, and soft as sin as it sweeps along the edge of his jaw. The long strands drape over his broad shoulders, a stark contrast against the black high-neck tunic he’s wearing. Silver buckles pull the leather taught across his wide chest, definitely tailored to fit his well-built frame. 

And his face... Gods, his face. It looks so much more different than you could have ever imagined. 

He has the type of profile that marble sculptors carve: a razor-sharp jawline and high cheekbones, lips drawn into a serious expression and one eye a gleaming blue. The other is covered by an eyepatch, and you have to swallow the lump in your throat when you see the deep-set scar that stretches along his face. 

You understand it now: the Gods didn't drive away darkness when light was made. Instead they created the color obsidian, ravens, and a person known as Aemond Targaryen. A wild, fiery man sculpted from the elements.

Aemond stares on back, and you can see how he takes a heavy breath. His eye scans you up and down, studying the silk gown, your braided hair, and every curve of your body. For a brief moment, he focuses on your breasts — almost as if he’s realized you’ve grown into a beautiful woman: more mature, more composed, fertile and ready for the taking. Something dark rests in the twist of his lips before he brings his attention back onto your face. Your cheeks feel impossibly hot. 

It looks like he wants to say something, but bites it back with a slight nod of his head in greeting. 

The earth seems to pause and cease its spinning. Your heart slams frantically against your ribcage, like a pendulum or a hare trapped in a cage, lungs refusing to completely submit to your breathing. Slowly, you tread over to the chair adjacent to him and sit down in it.

He feels the shift in the atmosphere too. Same place. Same family. Different you. 

“Princess,” Aemond finally says. His voice is so much deeper now, smooth and rich with that accent of his. It has your stomach flipping. 

You take a slow breath and urge yourself to glance at him, because you know you'll hate yourself later if you don't. You will stare into that intense eye of his, even if it kills you. You’re sick of all your regrets. 

“My Prince,” you respond, trying to control the tremor in your voice by busying yourself with your fork. If Aemond notices, he doesn’t comment on it. “It has been awhile.” 

Aemond hums in acknowledgement. “You are surprised by what you see, I presume.”

"And why do you say that?"

“You were staring,” Aemond says coolly. You can feel a heat climb up your cheeks — was it that obvious? “Though I cannot say I blame you,” he adds, finally picking up his utensils and cutting into his meat with a fork and knife. 

"You are rather confident, My Prince," you murmur under a breath. “Have you not gained restraint over the years?” 

"That is a virtue I am hardly accused of possessing. Don't pout, Princess, it ruins the shape of that pretty mouth.” 

You remain silent, blinking at Aemond dumbly while trying to think of a response. He must be able to tell of your embarrassment, because his eye gleams with a feeling too intense to be stated in words. The best word to describe it is pride. Stupid pride. 

“We are not married,” you respond in a rush. “Yet you speak dangerously.”

Aemond only stares at you, analyzing your expression, the ends of his lips slightly curled. You take the moment of silence to stuff your mouth with the delicious food in front of you, trying your hardest not to glance back up at him. 

The clock is ticking. When will the shouting start, you wonder. How long before there are tears, recriminations, and pain? 

A part of you wants to talk about the fun you and him had as kids, but you would feel guilty for bringing it up. Who’s to say that Aemond thinks fondly of those times anymore? Have the good memories been tarnished by the bad? Are they now piles of debris, comprised of grit, black dust, and ever-vanishing with time?

Does he even want to talk about the past at all? You could explain your viewpoint, how you reacted on fear, anger, and impulse that night — and he does deserve to know, because if you were in his place, you would care. You would care to know why the one person you trusted contributed to your downfall. 

But … but now is not the right time. Not when your father is indulging in a chat with the Queen, or when Halaena is enjoying her food as Aegon drowns himself in wine. Especially during a supper that is supposed to be joyful and unmarked by the shadows of what’s happened. 

Some things are better left unsaid.

So you remain quiet, attempting to listen in on any conversation available.

“Tell me; how do you feel about the betrothal?” Aemond suddenly asks. It takes you aback. 

You work up the confidence to look at him again, searching for anything concrete, but all you see are ripples of emotions you don't understand. Swallowing thickly, you bring your attention to your goblet and press the metal to your lips, sipping down some wine. You’re going to need it. 

“It was to be expected,” is all you say. Setting your cup down, you clear your throat. “And what are your thoughts?”

Aemond says nothing right away, placing his cutlery onto his plate as his face melts back into a cool expression. You steel yourself for whatever retort he may toss at you. 

It doesn’t come. 

Instead, his tone is steady when he speaks again. “Marrying you is my duty, Princess. I do not intend to stray from it."

“Well then.” You give him a polite nod. “Your family is very lucky to have someone so dedicated to the cause.”

“I take it that you understand your duty as well,” he says. “And it’s significance.”

“Of course. I’ll do what must be done.”

You watch the bob of Aemond’s throat as he swallows. He looks off into the fireplace that sits across the room, seemingly in thought. Just when you think he’s done talking to you for the night, he speaks, voice almost musical.

“Did you perhaps find a man of interest over the years?”

It’s a question that has your mind reeling and both eyes flying up to him. He’s not looking at you though; his stare remains on the dancing flames, expression scarily neutral. Despite that, you can see the distaste on his lips. 

“W-why?” you ask, before steeling your surprise and resorting to humor. “Afraid I might replace you?”

“It is a fair question,” Aemond states. The man leans further back in his chair, the wood squeaking under his weight as he presses for an answer. “I would prefer to know if my wife will be engaging in secret escapades with a low-born.” 

Truthfully, you don’t know what to say. Aemond asking about your past love life wasn’t on the agenda for today.

You debate telling him that you still thought about him all these years. That you never thought of another man, or searched for a suitor. Yet the words stick in your throat, and the thought of his handsome face screwing up in protest makes you sick.

The silence urges Aemond to spare a glance your way. His stare alone could have you on your knees, dark and vindictive; you see the spirit of the dragon in his blood, and imagine that’s why you always found him — find him — so much more magnetic than anyone else. 

You change the subject. 

“Once we marry, you are to be associated with my House forever.” Before he can question the switch in topic, you quickly add, “It will not be good for your image. I love my parents, but they only think about status these days. People may think you are marrying me for strength. To gain power.”

Aemond seems to mull this over. If he agrees, you wouldn’t know; he has trained his face to remain neutral. It tells you nothing. “Then let it be.”

You tilt your head at him now, a slight frown blooming upon your mouth. “So I am to marry a prince who does not pay any mind to what his subjects think of him?” 

“A tragedy that is,” Aemond says sarcastically. He crosses his legs and rests an arm on the table, staring down at you from the bridge of his nose. “I am grateful that our roles are not switched, for I would have dove headfirst into the Dragon Pit had I been in your place.” 

“You should have your tongue removed for that,” you say boldy, half-joking. 

"My body is yours. Do what you will.”

You’re honestly surprised at his answer. It’s not supposed to be dirty, no, but there is hidden intent behind it. It plants some interesting images in your head. Aemond’s cold eye is still on you now, chilly and unrelenting. You are vaguely aware of how he taps his fingers along the wood of the table, awaiting your reply. 

“Do not say such things,” you almost stutter. “Your name cannot protect you forever.”

“The name you will be taking?”

Your mouth slightly agape, you can only stare at him. Aemond turns his attention back to his food, lifting his cup to his mouth; but before he takes a drink, you catch his gaze flit over to meet yours. It almost looks like he’s fighting a smirk, the way his lower lip seems to quiver. 

It feels like he’s taunting you. Testing you. You don’t like it, not at all. And even still… it reminds you of the days you used to gently tease each other. A fond memory. 

You can’t bring yourself to actually be mad. 

“Does something humor you, My Prince?” you ask anyway, egged on by him. You try to sound upset, but fall short; a tinge of glee laces your tone.

“Hmm,” Aemond quietly hums, setting his goblet down. You think you can see the ghost of a smile on his face: barely there, almost invisible. “Not a thing.”  

Much to your delight, the dinner went well. Better than expected.

You had engaged in conversation with Halaena after awhile, listening to her stories of the bugs she has caught over the years and what they do. In return, you tell her of the things you have done which she listens to with an unbridled joy and sparkling eyes. 

Aemond had watched everything in silence. Not an angry sort of quiet, but one where there are no words that have to be said. If anything, he seemed sort of pleased with how well you and his beloved sister were getting along.

Now it was late, with the sky having melted into a navy-black, pitted with the dappled light of stars and wisps of clouds. You have been thinking of Aemond ever since you made it back to your chambers earlier, changing into your night gown and undoing the braid in your hair. Although you tried your best to repress the gnawing feeling, there was one thing you knew you must do.

You need to talk to Aemond.

There is no dodging the elephant in the room. You need to sort out boundaries, talk about the wedding, children. 

So, gathering as much courage you could possibly muster, you slip out of your bedroom and pad down the corridors. One thing you notice is that the Red Keep is remarkably calm at night compared to how active it is during the daylight hours. Tranquil, almost. The only noise you hear are the echoes of your feet on the stone floors. 

You reach the entrance of Aemond’s chamber quickly, remembering exactly where it was from when you were kids. Taking a deep breath, you rap your knuckles on the wooden door.

You wonder how much courage it will take to engage in casual conversation with Aemond again, something that has never given you trouble with him as a child. A worry you experienced with other people but not with him. Never with him. When will you be able to speak to him about normal things?

Nothing happens for a couple moments. But just when you are about to knock again, the door swings open to reveal Aemond on the other side. 

There’s no more of that boyish charm.

Aemond holds himself taller now; his shoulders look broader, his back looks straighter, and his head is held higher. He appears serious, yet also perplexed, probably wondering why exactly you are showing up to greet him in the middle of the night. He must notice that you are in your night clothes, judging by how his attention turns to the flow of your silk gown. “Trouble sleeping, Princess?”

“Do you … wish to discuss some things?” you suggest gently, which brings Aemond’s eye from your body and onto your face again.

“It is unavoidable, is it not?”

“Yes,” you agree. Aemond hums. 

He opens the door wide then, gesturing with a hand for you to walk in.

Walking into his room slowly, he closes the door behind you before standing beside the fireplace, clearly falling deep in thought. A part of you wants to give up and abandon ship, but before you can even take a single step, Aemond turns his head to meet your eyes.

You offer him a rare smile which he responds to with a look of suspicion, clearly picking up on your agenda for coming here. “You wish to speak about the wedding, I presume,” he finally says. You nod. 

“Humor me, then, Princess. What will you need in this marriage?”

“It’s not what I need,” you tell him softly, crossing your arms over your chest in thought, thumbs stroking at smooth fabric. “It’s what I want. For the future.”

“And what would that be?” Aemond replies, the fireplace’s flames painting swirls of orange and yellow upon the razor-edged plains of his face. 

“I want to have freedom. I do not wish to be condemned to the palace all day. I also want to keep our children out of as many political affairs as possible. The court is no place for kids.”

“Already pondering the idea of children?” Aemond taunts.

It’s a struggle for you to keep your composure at that. You’re actually a bit embarrassed. "If we are to be wed, we are expected to produce as many children as possible. To spread the Targaryen name. It is not abnormal to plan these sort of things out.”

“Perhaps,” Aemond states simply. “I admire your resolve, Princess, but you speak of something that cannot be done.”

You try to ward a potential frown from spoiling your face. “You are the Prince. I am sure you can figure out something. Or are you not as clever as I have heard?” 

Aemond gives a small smirk. His tone conveys some form of appreciation which makes you feel proud. “You have high expectations of me, then.”

“I suppose,” you admit.

“I have the same high expectations for you.”

You fight back the shyness that his statement causes, but you doubt you’re as successful in appearing deadpan like him. “And?” 

“And,” Aemond continues lowly, “You have upheld them and more.”

You nearly choke, both surprised and flattered by the answer. Aemond can tell; he has a dark amusement in his profile, which you flick your gaze down to avoid. It is hard to ignore him for long though: Gods, he's just so gorgeous.

He’s the balance between elegance and danger. Distant because of his righteousness, and having such a moral fortitude that he is beautiful in a seductive and forbidden way. 

You curse him. Curse him for having hair as fair as snow and eyes the shade of Lobelia flowers. Curse him for having the grace of a panther and skillful, slender hands.

That’s when you get the feeling that Aemond is just waiting for the right moment to unload what's been going on in his life. You beat him to it. 

“How have you been?” you murmur. It seems to catch him by surprise with the way his lips slightly part and his brow softens into a straight line. He pauses and turns beside the fireplace, one hand propped against the stone. 

When Aemond says nothing, you add more boldly, “Did you miss me, My Prince?”

He glances over his shoulder then and just stares, soaking in every piece of you he can. Each feature of his face is adorned with conviction. Your skin begins to tingle, goosebumps dancing along your spine, radiating outward to your exposed arms with a hair-raising energy.

“You ruined me,” is all he says. 

You notice that he's trying to withdraw from the situation — not physically because he's firmly planted in place — but rather by burying any emotional aspects of himself. His face is awash with frustration, distress, and contempt.

“I have done nothing to you, My Prince,” you defend. 

Aemond’s eye swivels to you slowly. That once-familiar stare is suddenly unnerving, forcing your breath to halt in your throat and your body to freeze like a frightened animal. You are ready. You know what he is going to say. But it still rips into you and burns as fiercely as barbed wire coiled around your heart, twisted until the organ may burst.

“You betrayed me.” 

“I did not,” you say, voice shaking. “You were out of line. You stole Vhagar and proceeded to toss insults around. Hurt your nephews and nieces.”

“I was doing what must be done. The Valeryans had their chance to claim Vhagar,” Aemond retorts. “Is it my fault that they waited so long? That my nephews are not proud of their name?” 

“Everyone was angry because the second you got a dragon, you acted like you were better than them. You humiliated them. And now?” You take one heaving breath, your entire body trembling. “People are afraid of you. I have heard the rumors of how you can be when you train with others. It’s not training with you. If you had a sharper edge to your sword, they would be attending their own funeral; you know it, I know it, they know it. You bully others just like you were. Does that make you proud?”

For the first time since you’ve reunited, you glimpse a hint of hostility in Aemond’s eye. He is obviously making an effort to appear composed and unbothered to impress you. But you’ve hit a nerve and his gaze hardens to glare daggers at you.

“So that is all?” Aemond proclaims harshly. His tone is wolfish now. “You have come here to remind me of my proclaimed wrong-doings? To spit in my face everything you have been wanting to say all these years?” 

“When did you become so bitter? So hateful?” You stare at him wildly, profile twisted into something turbulent. “I was just protecting the people I consider my family!”

It must trigger something in Aemond. The words knock down those walls of his, burst the damn, sending that fury inside him whirling, coaxing him to raise his voice and finally yell: 

“I was your family!”

The only way to express the sensation that explodes inside your chest is to imagine walking slowly on a broken window. So slowly that you can feel every bit of glass pierce and glide upward into the heel of your foot, each step digging red, horrific lines into your skin. 

The tempest in your soul has officially burnt out.

And here, with your blood thundering through your body and drumming an even rhythm upon his, Aemond is just a boy. A vulnerable boy that could be stopped by a sharp enough blade, as long as its your hand on the hilt.

Those words Aemond said — they were ones of anger, yet none had the intent to injure or bruise. You should know how approach him, except you don’t. You need to say something that can release you from the desolate and ominous silence that fills the room. 

“I’m sorry,” you eventually whisper.

You expect Aemond to retaliate. To fight back, defend his honor. He doesn’t though. Instead, he fixes his gaze onto your profile and speaks.

“I used to think the Targaryen name was descending into one ruled by hatred. I presumed it was our doing, that the blood feud ruined all that was honorable,” Aemond says gravely. “But I have been hateful for a long time.”

You know what he means.

His nephews. The ordeal with the pig. Being dragonless and teased by his peers for it. Feeling like the odd one out, overlooked by others by his incompetent brother’s potential future reign. It all invoked an anger in him that he buried — until it was dug up by family and unleashed one night, black-red and hot and stinging.

But it’s not the complete truth.

“You weren’t hateful,” you say slowly. “Not to me.”

It’s scary: you expected that to spark something inside of him, to wither the hurricane brewing. But Aemond is so calm in the throes of shock that it's as though any breeze would be nothing more than a breath whispering over him. There is no tremor in his jaw, no twitching in his shoulders, and not a single tear on his ivory cheeks. Nobody blinks.

You told yourself that no words could heal the broken trust between you. Despite that, they continue to tumble out. “I understand if we cannot go back to the way it was before. That’s alright … well, it’s not, but I understand why. I really do. And—” 

“Who am I to you after so many years?”

You don't immediately understand what Aemond asked, and it takes a moment for it to process. But then you do realize, and it comes with a painful stab in the chest and a wince, because Aemond thinks you loathe him, and he shouldn’t … he shouldn’t be thinking like that because it could not be further from the truth. 

You really want to have a break down. Not one that has you going mad, throwing shit and screaming, but perhaps a cry with panting breaths and shivering and a few tears. One that is completely internal and rips you apart from the inside out.

When you look up, Aemond is directly in front of you. He had bridged the gap at some point. You just keep staring and staring — because there is nothing else you can do but ogle him as if he were the most extraordinary thing you have ever seen. Finally, you speak. 

“You’re Aemond,” comes your response. Small, meek. “You’re Aemond.”

The middle of your core stings then, like the fireworks that laid dormant there had finally been set aflame, torching every artery — as if the weight of the man’s stare was too much, as if being looked at by Aemond was unbearable. 

And it is, you suppose. But not in a bad way; unbearable in that you wanted him. You wanted to meld your friendship so bad that it hurt. You're preoccupied with the way your subconscious shouts the truth: you adore him endlessly. 

You cannot hold back anymore. 

You kiss Aemond Targaryen with everything you have, drenching every worry of yours and love for him onto his lips, knowing that you … you are acting appropriately this time. This feels good. This is right. 

Aemond releases a low, deep grunt as a surprised response, urging you on. You kiss him fiercely, to taste the warmth of his mouth, and feel stars erupt and dissipate behind your closed eyes. He swallows down the desperate sigh that spills out of your mouth as you steady his pointed jaw with both of your hands. 

There’s the ridge of his scar under your thumb, the drumming of the blood in your jugular, and the softness of his platinum hair as you move to twine your fingers in it. There’s the sweep of his hands — sliding over your hips, waist, ribs — soothing burning skin as he reels you closer against him. 

It feels like an eternity before your lips separate with the slightest sound. You rest your hands on Aemond’s wide shoulders, pressing your foreheads together between trembling exhalations.

“I could never hate you,” you assure, squeezing the leather of his tunic in your hands as your noses brush together. Aemond has a palm on the nape of your neck, holding you in place with the heaving rise and fall of his chest, gazing at you like you’re something celestial. His one eye, so intense and blue and electric.

You don’t want to let go. Not when the edges of Aemond’s lips coyly turn upward and he tilts his head to kiss your neck quietly, followed by more kisses that are sprinkled across your collarbone like a vow or a promise. You let out a shaky sigh and he finally pulls back, his voice deep and rich but soft. So, so soft.

“Ride Vhagar with me. See what it means to be with a Targaryen.”

You look up at him in surprise. “Right now?”

“Tomorrow,” he corrects.

“I have never ridden a dragon—”

“And?”

“I do not know how.”

“No one knows how to ride a dragon until they ride a dragon.”

Your expression must soften, because Aemond’s does in return. There’s a few seconds where neither of you say anything, until his calloused fingers come to settle on your cheek. 

“I will see you tomorrow at dawn, Princess.” 

At a loss for words, you offer him a weak nod, breath coming out as a stutter. Aemond trains his eye on you, searching for a single bit of protest. When he comes up empty, he leans down to whisper close to your lips, hot breath puffing along your chin. “Be ready for me.”

In that beautiful, terrifying moment, there’s an epiphany. A realization.

An understanding that maybe... just maybe ... this can be fixed. This rift, these burnt bridges of the past. You can see the yearning in Aemond too: he wants the same thing. 

It can be mended. Your friendship, your trust, your love — the feelings are still there between the two of you.

Bent, but not broken.

[dragonrider9905]

Infectious Love

Summery: After a failed, almost confession of love, you and Hunter's relationship is skating on thin ice...that is, until someone falls through (or gets stabbed in the gut), so to speak.

Warnings: Angst, lots of it, but comfort too. Lots of emotions. Mentions of blood and sickness.

Hellooooooooo @imaginesfordifferentfandoms tis I, your Secret Santa in the @cloneficgiftexchange!!!!! I really, really, hope you like it. I worked really hard on it ;D So I hope it turned out the way I imagined it in my head ;D Enjoy this kinda longish drabble XD Hehehehe now you understand all the questions I asked. I hope you don't mind I went with Hunter. You seemed to not mind any of them; he's my favorite so I know I can get carried away :D and I wanted to make sure the story was nice! Also, I gave Hunter's scarf a destiny. A fate. A sense of purpose. We now know what happened to it. I have spoken.

Furthermore, I'd like to throw a huge shout out to some people who deserve it. Firstly, @ghostofskywalker. Thank you so much for organizing this event and all the other ones like it. They are always so much fun and I enjoy them immensely. It is safe to say the others who join feel the same way. Thank you for all the hard work you put into it all! Also, thank you to @photogirl894 for being an awesome beta reader and supportive friend. I don't know if I would have finished this fic on time if she hadn't helped me through all the rough spots by her encouraging words. Bestie, you read everything but the ending...I hope you like it <3

The decree is written, now, let the story unfold.

“As a father, you couldn’t ask for a better place to raise a child.”

You’d heard Shep say these words to Hunter your first day on Pabu, and you had to admit, it made your heart flutter a little bit. You’d fallen hard for Hunter a long time ago but duty always got in the way. At first, you hadn’t realized just how much you cared for him during the Clone War, serving as their medic, until Hunter received a shot in the chest. It was then that you realized, or rather were honest with yourself, that your friendship was always more than just a friendship. Almost losing him gave you a clarity and an honesty with yourself that you needed, but that didn’t make things easy. In fact, they made them harder.

Because now you knew how YOU felt, but you had NO IDEA how he felt. Every day, you’d face a new challenge, a new battle, overcome insurmountable odds against the Separatists on top secret missions and won. Every night, you’d have a heart to heart with Hunter, talking about things that made him laugh, made you laugh, things that made you cry, or things that upset him. 

But never unburying that heavy secret locked away in your heart. 

You considered yourself brave in many aspects but not when it came to problems with the heart. You could tell Hunter anything and everything, except how you felt about him. Instead, you’d find little things every day to show him you loved him. You’d fix his caf the way he liked it, you’d make sure the others were considerate of his sense, you listened to him when he wanted to rant, you showed him you trusted him. You were his shoulder to lean on, his unofficial right hand man. Technically, Crosshair filled those shoes but not always. You tried to be the head of reason when the boys fought and patched them up when they were done arguing. 

Then the Clone War ended with fateful Order 66. Your world turned upside down and even though circumstances were different, your situation was the same. 

That secret would have to be pried out of your cold dead hands. 

You’d been on the run, constantly in fear for your lives and that of the child in your care. You’d started to love her as your own daughter, and you could see Hunter did too. You’d seen Hunter with Cut and Suu’s children before, but somehow, this was different. He’d cared for her as a father would. And that made your heart melt more than you ever thought it could. 

Now, here on Pabu, having something that resembled peace and a chance at a life, was it time? Could you actually have the dream you despaired of. The dream which was a nightly comfort but in the morning seemed unreachable as something you thought you couldn’t hope for? 

Shep’s words teased you. Taunted you. Pried at you. 

Perhaps, perhaps it was time to open your heart? 

“So have you reconsidered staying?”

“For soldiers, putting down roots is an occupational hazard.” 

“Is that all you are? Soldiers?”

You’d seen the thoughtful look on Hunter’s face. It was the one he made when he was considering something. There was no contention, just thoughtful pondering. 

Somehow, some way, that moment spurred you and you worked up the courage. 

Hunter sat in the cockpit, swirling his knife. You approached and leaned against the door. You’d love to sit there and watch that for hours. You smiled a little to yourself, waiting for him to recognize your presence so as to not scare him into a mistake (not that he’d ever but…better be safe than sorry.) 

“Echo said he’s on his way. Will be here in a few rotations.” he said without looking up. “Omega will be glad to see him.”

“Yeah, she misses him, the poor kid.”

Sheaving his knife, he turned to you. 

“So, what can I help you with?”

“Oh, you know, just checking in on my Sargeant. You’ve been in here all day.” You placed some fruit native to Pabu in front of him. You never could remember the name, but you’d noticed he liked them. 

“Thanks,” he gave half a smile while you took the seat next to him. “What kind of trouble are Wrecker and Omega getting into?”

“Ohhhh probably best not to know right now. Just enjoy the few moments of peace while you can.”

He chuckled and cut into the fruit.

“Soooooo” your heart pounded. You were actually going to do it. You got this…just had to breathe and remain steady, it’d be ok. 

Hunter gave you a side eye, silently offering you a piece of the fruit. Kriff, he can tell. You tried to slow your heart best you could. 

“So.” He prompted you.

You laughed. “I heard Shep the other day. Something about settling down…ever think about it?”

He sighed. “More than you know. I honestly don’t know what to do about it. I’d like to but… It’s … complicated.”

“Ever think about marrying a pretty woman and having a family? Raising Omega somewhere safe where she’d be happy…”

He huffed a little. 

“Who’d I marry? Please don’t suggest the woman Wrecker’s friend was trying to set me up with.” 

At the words, the muscles in your face felt heavy and turned sour. The twinkle in your eye went out and the joy in your demeanor dissolved. 

An empty smile remained on your face. No indication to the outsider that anything had changed. But Hunter wasn’t an outsider. He knew you inside and out. 

Who’d I marry? You weren’t even a consideration. You weren’t on the list. Of course you wouldn’t be. It’d be foolish for you to think that. Why’d you hope in the first place? You should have known better. 

Swallowing hard, you bit back tears and forced a laugh. 

You had Hunter’s full attention now. He sat up straight and leaned forward a bit. 

He immediately sensed the change of demeanor. Your heart rate plummeted but beat hard. Your focus was gone, staring into nothing. Even if it was just for a millisecond, he’d have noticed it, but it lasted longer than that. 

Your hollow laugh filled the cabin.   

He knew he messed up.

Hunter moved to speak again but it was too late. You’d gotten up and moved toward the door. 

“Well um, I should go check on Omega and Wrecker and see what they’re up to before they do too much damage. Yeah, yeah…”

The next moment you were out of the cabin and down the ramp without a second look behind you. 

Kriff. He had to fix this. 

He almost went after you. He almost made it out the ship, but an incoming transmission stopped him. This could be the one he was waiting for. He looked longingly out to where he saw you hugging yourself, making your way slowly across the shipyard, and went back inside the ship. 

Kark it all. This’d better be important, Echo.

Tech was gone. Omega was taken. Crosshair a prisoner. Echo abandoned them, again. It was just you, Wrecker and Hunter now. A ship once filled to bursting with life and light, warm with the love and laughter shared between its walls, was now cold with an emptiness, a magnanimous devoid maw that the ship had never known before. 

Tech was dead. Crosshair was gone. Omega was taken. 

He was lost. 

Hunter might as well have added you to the list of lost as well, because even though you were physically on the ship, you weren’t with him. You were distant. Gone. In every way possible other than physical. You’d done your best to keep Wrecker and himself together. You’d been the same insurmountable strength you’d always been for them to lean on. You were being the strong one for them because you knew they couldn’t right now. He was angry, frustrated, focused and lost all in one but didn’t know where to direct that energy. As always, you came through. You acted the same as how you did throughout the entire Clone War, except not. The actions were all there, but there was a lost life to it. 

A lost love. 

And it was his fault. 

Though you were strong, you weren’t invincible. 

During the day you’d serve them. Got them food, made sure they rested, used every resource imaginable to find the little lost loved one. You tried to make them laugh and smile if you could or focus on the task at hand. Completing small missions to get by was his bane, because all Hunter wanted to do was find Omega, but you brought him back to the present, reeled in his reckless side when it got to be too much. You kept track of the inventory and how and when to push on. 

But every night he’d hear you silently cry yourself to sleep. 

You’d go and comfort Wrecker, then you’d offer the best gesture you could to him to encourage him, then you’d retire to your bed, broken down by the day. Tired, exhausted, empty. 

He saw it. And he caused it. 

And he hated himself for it. 

He’d lost you in a hasty, foolish sentence. One he’d said without much forethought. One he said because he was afraid if he’d said too much, or given any indication of the deeper feelings he had for you, you’d have rejected him and he’d lose you entirely. He thought he could be your friend. You deserved so much more. So much more than himself and what he could offer. He’d wanted to stay your friend so that way, even though he couldn’t have you, you’d be happy. He’d make sure that whoever he was, the man you’d marry would give you all the love he couldn’t. 

Turns out he was wrong.  

You did return his feelings and he broke you.

He should have gone after you, but he didn’t. He thought he’d have time. He thought he could do it when you’d return to the ship and he could sit down with you uninterrupted but he was wrong, so wrong. Echo arrived and in moments, though he didn’t know it, his life turned upside down. When the mission was declared, his focus turned to that. 

He should have talked to you. He should have let you know how he felt. 

But the manner of your hurt shifted. You were no longer hurt, but cold. 

Perhaps you didn’t want him to love you anymore. He didn’t know what to do. So much was wrong. So much that shouldn’t have been, was now his reality. 

In truth, you DID deserve more than him. Perhaps this was for the best. This hurt would pass and you’d meet the one you were supposed to be with. You could get over this fancy for him and live an actual life with someone else. 

The thought made his stomach churn and threatened to vomit, but perhaps, that’s what was meant to be. 

After all, sometimes to love someone you had to let them go. And Omega, she needed him right now, fully focused on nothing else but finding her. 

It was late in the night watch, Hunter sat alone staring at the broken pair of goggles and a plush toy that belonged to the child of the ship. His child, not by blood but by choice. 

Taken from him in a cruel twist of fate. 

He closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair. Hunter wasn’t normally one for crying but he felt close to it now. He didn’t know what to do, but he knew Omega took priority over himself. He HAD to find her. Bring her home. Oh Force, what was Hemlock doing to her?

He felt his head start to pound and his brow furrowed. 

It hurt so much to love. This was love, wasn’t it? After all, what would he know? All he knew of it was what was in the novels and holofilms…

Something cold touched his head and he jumped in surprise. Opening his eyes, he found you had taken a few steps back surprised, with a blanket and an ice pack in hand. 

It didn’t go unnoticed you’d had the scent of fresh tears on your hands. 

“I’m sorry, I thought you were in one of your uncomfortable sleep cycles.” You offered gently. “You looked like you had a headache so I brought you this.” You shook the ice pack. 

Hunter sat up and rubbed his head. “I…can’t sleep.”

He looked down. It was so hard to keep your gaze. His throat tightened and tears sprung against his will. All he could do was sigh, long and heavy. 

Hunter was silent, not knowing what to say. He tried opening his mouth a few times but closed it at every attempt, frustrated. 

You slowly drew near him, considerate as you always were. Giving him a chance to stop you if he wanted or needed, but he didn’t. You crouched down in front of him and took his hands. 

A shock of surprise sprung his head up immediately and sent a shiver through his body. His brain registered your hands were cold and instinctively he moved to warm them, covering them completely with his own. But his mind was fully focused on your face. 

Your eyes glittered with unshed tears and your mouth had a half, crooked smile. A ghost of the one you’d had before. But there was something in your gaze he’d missed, he’d longed for. 

It was ‘that’ look. 

You hadn't looked at him like that in a long time. 

There was a warmth and a love aflame. A gentleness that hadn’t been there these long past few weeks.  

If eyes were truly the window to the soul, he’d seen that the embers were dying, but not gone. 

You squeezed his hand. 

“We’ll find her. I promise.” 

There was such a conviction in your voice, determination. A rawness that almost freighted him. A testament to the power you had. The power of your will and spirit. The power of your determination. One of the reasons he loved you so much. One of the elements in your looks that he yearned to see again after missing it for so long. 

He squeezed your hands. 

“Thank you for everything.” He swallowed hard, voice now scratchy and sore. 

You nodded and stood, pulling your hands from his. You placed the pack on his forehead and placed the blanket on him in two swift motions and made to go. You were fast, but not too fast for him. You’d tried to retreat, but Hunter jumped and grabbed your arms, centering you to himself. 

A surprised look crossed your face and he saw you searching him, wondering. 

“We need to talk.”

You looked away, tears starting to gather again, a breath catching in your throat wanting to break free. 

Hunter cupped your face with his hand and slowly, softly turned your gaze back to him. 

“Please.”

You nodded, but then looked away again. 

“Ok, but not now.” Your voice was heavy and empty. That void look entered your eyes, extinguishing the flame that was there before. 

“No, you should get some sleep, you look exhausted. You’re always looking after us. Tonight, take care of yourself, yeah?” He rubbed his thumb against your cheek, whipping away a tear that escaped. “Tomorrow.”

You nodded. “Tomorrow.”  

Lifting the blanket you’d brought for him, Hunter placed it over your shoulders with a reassuring squeeze then turned back to his chair, cradling the ice pack to his forehead. 

Tomorrow came, but started off all wrong. Emergency lights flashed and sirens blared. The Marauder made an emergency landing on the treacherous mountainous planet below. The hyperdrive malfunctioned and threw you out of hyperspace. It was a tumultuous, uncontrolled landing but Hunter managed with minimal damage to the exterior of the ship. The haul was a little banged up, but other than that, the smoking hyperdrive was the focus of your concern.

There was no Tech to fix the ship now. You were on your own.

“Do you think you can fix it?” Hunter looked at you worriedly. You’d helped Tech plenty of times in the past. You considered yourself pretty capable with all the training you received from him. 

Taking a look around, you carefully considered. 

“I think so, but it’s going to take time. This superficial stuff I’m not too worried about. We’ll have to make port somewhere soon anyway for supplies. We’re low on everything.” You’d been looking at the inventory the last few days and the lists were concerning. “I think we have enough credits to get by until we can do a job and earn more.” You rubbed your forehead. “I’ve been running numbers on how to keep ourselves sustained without needing to distract ourselves from our mission with a whole bunch of side missions anymore. I think it’ll work but you’re going to have to trust me. But I digress. I’ll patch up the hyperdrive which seems to be the main problem. I’ve got a weird feeling about this place, I don’t want to be here too long. Weather might not hold out for extensive repairs either.”

“Alright, we’ll discuss this when I get back. I’ll scout the area and see what we’re dealing with.” Hunter turned to leave, then paused. Half looking back he spoke: “And, I do. Trust you, I mean.” 

With that he put his helmet on and shouted to Wrecker. 

“Keep her safe. I’ll be right back.”

It’d been an hour. And Hunter wasn’t back. 

Whipping the sweat from your forehead you heaved a big breath.

“I think that’ll do it Wreck. Where’s Hunt?” 

Wrecker looked nervous. “Not back yet.” 

You looked at your wrist chrono and raised your eyebrows in surprise. Highly unusual.

“Ok, I’ll go look for him. Protect the ship.” 

“We should stay together.” Wrecker added quickly, “I’ll come with you.”

“I would like that too but at this moment that’s a luxury we can’t afford. We have to split up.”

Wrecker groaned. “Bad things ALWAYS happen when we split up.”

You softened and patted his shoulder comfortingly. 

“I know, big guy, I know. But the less we argue, the sooner we get Hunt back.”

Wrecker paused and nodded. “Ok.” He sighed and took his place by the ramp of the ship. “And…..it’s good to hear you call Hunter, Hunt again…”he trailed off uncertainly, “but it’s kinda making me scared. You think he’s….?” 

Your heart clenched in realization. You didn’t think how your hurt would shed and affect others. “Oh Wrecker….” You started but he stopped you. 

“Aw Doc, I am just worried about ya. You two always meshed together, you know? So when you didn’t, and now get soft again…” He shook his head. “Get Hunter back, and everything will be ok, yeah?”

“Yeah, it will. I promise.” You started off your sentence quaking but with every word you found your conviction. It was time to go. 

“I hope you two can work things out. I always liked it that way, ya know?”

You smiled, “Yeah I do actually, and I did too.”

“Well, do you think that … whatever happened…you two can fix it?”

Your smile faltered a little bit but Wrecker didn’t see that. Really, only Hunter would have been the one to notice.

“I’ll do my best.”

With one last nod to Wrecker, you set out.

You weren’t exceptional at tracking but Hunter taught you a thing or two. 

It was time to bring Hunter home.

Hunter skirted the edge of the cliff carefully. His foot set a few loose rocks tumbling into the unknown. Knife unsheathed and corned against the endless void beneath him, he glared at his enemy. Hunter met these villains almost as soon as he left the ship. It didn’t take him long to realize their harmful intentions and led them away from the ship, hoping to buy you as much time as he could to fix the ship. He’d taken out ten of these bandits already, but this one was of a higher status, he could tell by the large hat he wore and more expensive weapons he possessed. He’d be more of a challenge but that would only make it more fun. 

Hunter growled and lifted his knife in the ready. Blood and sweat dripped from his face from the few scratches and scrapes he had. 

He was prepared for anything.

“Get away from him!” An agonized voice filled with terror screamed. 

Your voice. 

Hunter’s heart dropped to his stomach and for the first time since the crash, terror entered his veins. He was prepared for everything, except that.

Garnishing your blade, you swiped the air to show the mysterious stranger you were serious. “Leave him alone!”

Hunter’s throat closed up. You didn’t have your blaster, and while still decent with the blade, you weren’t ready for this yet. He hadn’t finished your training. 

“Meshla, no!” 

Hunter reached out, distracted only for a moment but a moment is all it took. In the second he tried to get in between you and the enemy, a kick to his stomach sent Hunter over the side

“Hunter!” You screamed after him in terror. 

What you didn’t see was the flip he made or how he grappled onto the rock. If only you had the enhanced senses he did, you might have heard his hard breathing, the uneven sob, and the continuous prayer that somehow you could live long enough for him to get to you. 

His heart pounded. He wanted to call for you but that’d only make things worse for you. He grunted as silently as he could. He had to get to you. 

He heard your angry grunts, the slices of knives through the air, missing their marks. He heard you yelling unintelligibly and savagely. The man’s gleeful laughter. 

Your painful cry.

No

Those were some of the longest seconds of his life. What happened? He tried to climb faster but the rock was so slippery.

Watching Hunter get shot. Finding him shot again in the same place all this time later by Cad Bane, and now seeing Hunter tumble over the edge was more than you could handle. Anger like you’d never felt it bubbling all over you, tingling your fingers and guiding your blade’s every movement with hardened focus.

No, you couldn’t lose him like this. You wouldn’t. The man was quick, practiced. But you’d had a good teacher. Now wasn’t the time to doubt. Sure, you wished your blaster had survived the raid on Ord Mantel but there was nothing you could do about that except replace it when you made port.

You tumbled, dived, parried. This demon wouldn’t win. He made a hit on your arm and you cried out. The evil, smug smile he had was enough to refocus you instantly. Jumping for him unexpectedly, you caught him by surprise. You pushed your entire body against his in a close roll.

And your blade found a home in his heart. 

Breathing hard, it took you a moment to realize…you’d won. You defeated him! Hunter would be so proud.

Hunter!

Diving for the cliff, you slid toward the edge. 

“Hunter? Hunter!”

Hunter looked up at you, face hidden behind his visor but all the emotions were spilling from his mouth. “Are you ok? Mesh’la, what the karking hells?”

“Grab my hand!” Ignoring him, you reached down. “I’ll pull you up.” 

Hunter clasped your hand but you let out a cry of agony. Collapsing in a heaping pile. You were shaking but your grip held firm.

“Mesh’la…” 

“Don’t you dare let go. Don’t you dare.” Your demand was dry and forceful, but fear spilled from every word. “Please.” Your plea was soft, broken.

“Alright.” He tightened his grip.

Tears streamed down your face as you panted, hulling him up. Hunter seemed so heavy. You’d done exercises like this before and it was a lot easier. Hunter seemed to notice your lack of strength too.

You pulled and heaved and scooted and rolled until you managed to get his body over the lump. Immediately, Hunter started his barrage on you in between heaving breaths of his own.

“What were you thinking? Don’t you know you could have gotten yourself killed?”

You got to your feet and brushed yourself off, head dizzy with emotion and adrenaline.

“Do you,” you panted, “have any idea what you did to me? Don’t start with me…”

“Oh honey, just wait until I get started—“ 

You turned to look at Hunter who also had gotten to his feet, the words registering, but sounding quite distant. Was he yelling? You weren't sure. Suddenly, your breath was knocked from your lungs and a sharp pain invaded your entire body. 

Falling to your knees, you clutched your side to find it wet and sticky, and warm. You didn't need to pull your hand away to look at it to know there was blood, yet that's what you did, and you were shocked nevertheless to find the red, sticky substance on your hands. Gasping with wide eyes, you missed Hunter’s cry of alarm.  

“You’re bleeding!”

Hunter ran over to you and caught you as you crumpled to the ground in pain. Gathering you to himself, he rested your body against his.

Tearing off his scarf from around his neck, Hunter pressed it to your wound.

“You’re losing so much blood.”

“Nah, I know exactly where it is. Here, there, and a little over there.”

“Not funny.”

“I thought it was.” you faintly chuckled. 

With a dark look, he cut the red fabric into strips and bound your abdomen tightly. 

“I’ll get you back to the ship as soon as I can, just hold on for me ok?” 

You nodded but your eyes now felt so heavy. You just wanted to sleep. 

Scooping you up, Hunter started at a full run. 

The bouncing hurt. Every pounding bounce sent fire mixed with ice through your body. Your head rolled back and your eyes shut.

“Hey, hey, cyare, look at me. Look at me! Don’t give up on me yet, please.” 

Hunter came in running. 

“Wrecker! Wrecker! Get the ship started, we’re leaving NOW!”

Wrecker didn’t miss a beat. He saw you dangling limpless in Hunter’s arms and dashed up the walkway. Wrecker tore through the room, doing the start up sequences as fast as he could then meeting Hunter in the gangway, he threw the med kit at him. 

Back in the cockpit, Wrecker took the controls. 

Placing you in his bed, Hunter slapped your face.

“I know you’re in there, wake up! Wake up! Don’t leave me now, I need you. I can’t do this without you. Omega is depending on you. You’re stronger than this, come on!”

Injecting you quickly with a stim and re-wrapping your wounds, Hunter frantically chaffed your wrists until your eyes fluttered open. 

“Hunter?” You were looking around, trying to sit up. 

“Hey, hey don’t get up.” He placed a hand on your forehead, then your pulse points. He felt you slowly but surely starting to equalize. “Just rest for a bit, ok? I’m going to stay right here if you need anything.” He pulled up a chair next to you. 

“I’m ok,” you smiled weakly, “I was so scared when I saw those tracks. I thought I’d lost you again. But you’re ok, and that’s all that matters to me.” You squeezed his hand, then let the darkness take you.

All was still and dark. The Marauder gently rocked in what would pass for the early hours of the morning, if there really could be a morning or night in space. 

All was still and quiet inside the Marauder. Wrecker was by the controls watching the ship’s course and motion beacons, Hunter was fast asleep, leaned over the bed and holding your hand. 

You on the other hand were restless. Buckets of sweat fell from your forehead. Dizzy and disoriented, even laying down, a nauseous feeling crept up your stomach into your throat. 

You wormed your hand out of Hunters, not wanting to wake him. It’d been too long since he’d gotten any sleep at all and at last the complete and utter exhaustion took him over. You pushed on the bed, attempting and failing to drag yourself up. 

You glanced at Hunter, considering only for a moment, then resurfaced your determination. No, you’d let him rest. You could do this. Grasping the blanket’s cocooning you, you attempted to untangle the heavy sheet entwining you. It was so heavy, suffocating. 

With a heaving breath, you pushed your feet off the bed and lunged your body forward.

You were standing. 

But as soon as you got up, you realized your mistake. The ship spun and the dull aches over your body were awakened. Your stomach’s pain blew its trumpet and your ears felt like balloons that were going to pop. You must have swallowed marbles because there was barely any room in your throat. 

Oh well, you could only push forward. 

Stumbling into the bathroom, you turned on the cold water. Perhaps that would help. 

The first thing Hunter noticed was his hand was cold and clammy. The lack of warmth left a devoid and empty feeling embedded with a nervous foreboding. 

Next came the darkness, which became a haze, and that haze turned into a bubble as he fought he was to consciousness. The bed in front of him was empty and Hunter could vaguely make out the things around him, noises indecipherable. He thought he heard trudging of feet scraping against the floor, the turning of a facet with the gush of water, then a loud crash, and thud with a BAM!

Instantly his body was alert. Dashing toward the source of the sound, he knew subconsciously what he’d find. Your body on the floor, sprawled out and drained. Your face was pale as death, eyes hollow. You didn’t look like this a few hours ago? 

“Mesh’la? mesh’la! what happened? Did you hit your head? Why are you up?” A thousand questions spilled from his mouth in worry. 

Worming his body behind yours, he gathered you up gently. You mumbled something that was lost even to his hearing. 

Concerned, Hunter removed his gloves, and placed them on your face. 

You leaned into his warmth, shivering, unable to get warm, yet your skin felt like fire to him. You were burning. Beads of sweat danced on your forehead as large as the tears that fell from your eyes.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Cradling you now, he carefully wrapped himself around your body. This allowed you to curl in on yourself and tuck yourself in further to his chest.

“‘M sry.”

Kriff, you could barely speak. 

“Don’t be sorry. I got you now.”

“Hunter, I-I can’t hear you too well.”

A wall of realization hit him hard. Kark it, he knew what happened. 

The fever, the swelling, the loss of balance and your voice, not to mention your hearing? 

You had an infection. 

Fear invaded Hunter’s senses. He’d never been sick like this, having super immune genetics (one thing to thank the long necks for he supposed). But now, how could he help if he didn’t know what you were going through exactly? 

This wasn’t the first time you were sick like this. He remembered the story you told of your childhood, and how one winter, you fell through the ice which resulted in something like this. The incident left you vulnerable and weakened, and he worried about you. 

You were tough and fought it out. But what if you couldn’t fight this one off? Would your second brush with death be enough to claim you?

Tears swelled your eyes and poured onto your cheeks. Small sobs started to wrack your body as emotion overtook you.

“I…sorry…don’t burnden…’Mega, gotta find…” 

“Hey, hey, it’s ok, I got you, I got you. You’re not a burden. We’ll get you better then we’ll find her. Hey, I got you, it’s ok.” Hunter had no idea how he managed to sound so calm. He’d never seen you like this before and it terrified him. Your small sniffles and hiccups reminded him of a small child. Every nerve and essence of his being screamed at him to protect you. 

“I’ll get you some water, I’ll be back. You have to stay hydrated.”

“Stay, I’ll get it.”

Hunter looked up to find Wrecker looking down at the two of you with a sad look in his eyes. “You should be with her.” He disappeared then returned a few minutes later with a full flask of cold water. 

Hunter brought it to your lips, but you barely swallowed any before relinquishing your strength to an empty sleep, exhausted by the struggle. 

Silence bore down on the three of you as Hunter and Wrecker looked on while you slept an uncomfortable sleep.

“I knew we should have stuck together.” Wrecker said sadly at last, not looking at Hunter. “I told her I’d come with her…”

“It’s not your fault, Wreck.”

“Bad things happen when we split up, I told her that….”

“This is all my fault.” Hunter hung his head. “I—”

“That kind of talk isn’t going to help her, Hunt. Don’t even think that. She made up her own mind. She was scared for ya, Hunt. She even started calling you ‘Hunt’ again.”

Hunter looked up surprised, then back down towards you. You’d stopped that since that morning on Pabu. You’d been formal with him afterward. It was either Sargeant or Hunter. 

He shifted then lifted you in his arms, bringing you back to the bed. He set you down then ran his fingers through your damp hair, worry evident in his eyes. 

“We need to get her to a hospital, Wreck. I don’t know what to do…Without Tech…I’m really scared right now.”

Wrecker placed a large, comforting hand on Hunter’s shoulder. “Then we go. We’ll get her better, Hunt. Don’t worry. I think we have a few of those fake IDs left Tech made. We’ll make something work.”

Swallowing hard, Hunter nodded.

Instead of letting go, Wrecker’s grip tightened. In one swift motion, Hunter was enveloped in a hug. If he was being honest, he didn’t mind in the least. 

Hunter sat by you in silence as the ship flew through hyperspace toward the hospital, watching your fitful sleep. Your forehead was creased in pain and your mouth turned into a pout. One hand carefully stroked your sweat soaked hair, the other intertwined with yours.

The waiting was the worst part. Not being able to do anything to help or accept, fate could only take its course and he could only stand by and watch. The worst enemies were the ones he couldn’t protect you from and he hated that. He couldn’t fight the infection with his blade, or take away your pain by shooting the cause with a blaster bolt. 

He leaned his forehead against yours and swallowed a sigh. Was this agony what you'd felt when he'd been shot? He remembered what delicate care you took of him. You'd been more than thoughtful, and tried not to show your concerns but he saw them anyway; just as he could always see you. But there was something else there that at the time he hadn't realized. And now he hoped he hadn't realized it too late. 

“You asked me before if I’d settle down like Shep asked……………and in my dreams, yes. I always wanted to, even before he asked, with you. It was you, it was always and only you.”

Silence was your response. 

 “Please, don’t leave me now. I already lost the others, I can’t lose you too.”

The steady rhythm of your heart was promise enough for him right now, he had to hold onto hope. 

“We can take it slow. Take our time. We don’t have to rush into anything but please, please stay with me and I’ll be yours for the rest of our lives. That’s my promise to you. I–I love you. Always have, always will.”

Perhaps if he’d hadn’t been so tired, he would have noticed the slight squeeze of his hand you have him. 

Hunter walked into the hospital carrying you wearing civilian clothing hoping he looked more inconspicuous than he felt. He approached the nurse at the front desk. 

“Excuse me, my wife needs help. She had an accident…”

“Chain codes.” the nurse said flatly without looking up but holding out her hand. 

Hunter fished them out and gave them to her. 

“It’s urgent, she needs to see a doctor ri–”

“Just sit down over there and the nurse will be with you shortly.”

“But she needs a doctor NOW!”

The nurse glanced up annoyed. 

“Keep that up and she’ll have to wait a full rotation, buddy.”

Hunter glared but didn’t say a word. Normally he would have fought back harder but with your life on the line, he couldn’t find it in himself to do it. So he did as he was bid, and took a seat in the waiting area. 

You blinked your eyes open with a smile. 

“Hey Handsome.” 

You reached up for his face, and he took your hand in his and gave it a quick kiss. 

“Hey,” Hunter kept his voice low, giving you a quick smile before making a quick survey of the area, “to catch you up real quick, we’re married. You’re my wife and we took you here after an accident on our farm. You’re going to be ok, ok?” 

His eyes darted across your face, looking, searching, for any indication that his words would come true. Even here and now on the brink of being saved, he felt like you’d suddenly vanish and be taken from him. 

He didn’t know what he expected from you, a nod of recognition maybe? But he didn’t get that. Instead, you chuckled. 

“Married? Already? So much for wanting to take it slow, Hunter.” 

To his surprise, a laugh burst from his lips, a smile replacing the worry for a second. He shook his head. Even now, you were trying to look out for him, making him laugh while you were the one who needed help. 

“Always looking out for me, aren’t you?” His voice was warm and full. The deepness of his voice like chocolate on your sore ears, not that he’d know that of course. All he could hope for was that you could hear the depth of love and gratitude he had in such a few words. 

You smiled, “always have, always will, I promise you that.” 

Hunter heard the nurse approach and looked up, only to be faced with a jaw dropping phenomenon. 

“How can I help you today? Wait…Hunter?”

It was Nala, your old classmate.

“Nala?” Hunter repeated, stunned. “You work here?”

“Yes…” her eyes drifted down to you. 

An unsettled feeling came over Hunter. You hadn’t been in touch with anyone since Order 66. Whose side was Nala on?

He didn’t have to wonder long when her face went white and she dropped down on one knee to be at your level. 

“What do you need? Let me assess her and see what I can do.”

Nala came running up carrying various vials and all but shoved them in Hunter’s pockets. 

“Give her this as soon as possible. It’s safer for all of you if you just take it and administer it on your ship. I got word of Imperials coming here shortly. I’ve listed instructions on how to give it to her safely. You should go before someone recognizes you and hands you over. Goodbye, and good luck. Take good care of my friend. When she gets better, tell her to give me a call!”

With that, Nala turned and left, trying her hardest not to give an impression of concern. 

Back on the ship, Hunter did as instructed. After making sure you were carefully placed in bed and made as comfortable as possible, he enlisted Wrecker’s help as soon as they’d jumped to hyperspace. Hunter knew Wrecker wasn’t going to like it, but there wasn’t another way. 

You’ll want to give this one to her first. It’ll regulate her body so she can take the following medications. It’ll help her breathe easier and adjust to what’s coming…it won’t appear so right away so don’t worry. You’re going to need to give this to her in quick succession so don’t wait to see the effects.

Hunter injected the hypo into your arm. 

This one is the IV with the antibiotics. Get her hooked up quickly and make sure the bag is drained before you take it out. 

He rubbed your arm and inserted the needle.

This one, inject into her chest near her heart. This one will hurt the most. 

This one, he couldn’t do. 

“This…is going to hurt.”

“I know.” You stared at the ceiling, trying to catch your breath and collect your courage. “It’s ok.”

Of course you knew, you were a medic. He would have cringed at his own words, but he couldn’t help it. His own fear mocked him and he wasn’t ashamed of it. Pain was pain, and nothing could make him like it or want that for you. All he could do was prepare you in any way he could. 

Your breathing was labored, huffing your breaths, greedy for air, gluttonously swallowing in as much as your lungs would let you. 

“Tell me.” You looked into his eyes, trying to focus, “tell me about it? I can’t seem to remember anything from our big day. What happened? Who was there? How did it go….How did I look?” You huffed a little laugh at the last question, “nevermind, don’t answer that.” Your laugh caused a coughing fit to follow. 

Hunter gripped you firmer as your body racked, fear unmasked in his eyes. 

Shutting your own, you tried to center yourself. 

“Crosshair probably made trouble, didn't he. He and Wreck competed to see who could eat the most cake and got sick, right?” Your voice was nothing other than a whisper, but Hunter could still pick up the dream-like tilt in your voice. The little smile as if it was a real memory, breaking across your lips. 

“Of course, would you expect anything less?”

Another chuckle turned into a gasp of air. 

Hunter kept his gaze on you as he spoke, his hand on your cheek facing him so you wouldn’t have to see what was to come. Rubbing gentle circles in your cheek and wiping away tears, he tried to speak without a shake in his voice. He didn’t know if he succeeded, but ever after that, he’d remember the images burned in his mind both, of the story he was telling and the raw reality of your pain. 

“Tech filmed the entire thing; we’ll have to rewatch it; would you believe Echo had more champagne to drink than anyone? He was so happy the entire night. He was also the only one next to Wrecker to cry.”

You smiled through gritted teeth.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You looked beautiful all dressed in white…” he stumbled over his words now as Wrecker garnished the needle, “your dress dazzled with little jewel thingies and you liked spinning in it because it reminded you of a waterfall or a butterfly’s wing. I couldn’t keep my eyes off you. And when you walked toward me, I was a mess, because I knew I was the luckiest man in the world, and I couldn’t ever have imagined you more beautiful.”

You swallowed hard. 

“Omega couldn’t stop smiling or singing; and when the music at the Pabu sunsets starts and the orange sun starts setting in the sky, it hit you just right and…”

You screamed as muffled of a scream as you could, but it rang in Hunter’s head so loud it bounced around until he felt like he was going to be sick.  

“Aaand, and, when the sun set, we resaid our vows under the stars, just you and me. Always, just you and me. I’ve got you, it’s ok.”

Your eyes rolled back and all went dark.

Breathing never felt so sweet. You smiled, feeling like you could laugh and cry at the same time. The pain was gone and you felt great! Energy was surging, and life felt beautiful again. Despite the illness, you remembered everything that happened with vivid accuracy. Though your eyes were closed, your mind was very awake and registered everything in perfect memory.

Not just the pain, but the sweet moments too. Hunter taking such good care of you, his poor fear and concern, the thoughts he confessed because he thought you couldn't hear.

You felt the urge to stretch but couldn't move. Opening your eyes and looking around, the sight made your heart melt. Hunter was curled up half beside and half behind you. His body was curled in around yours, holding you as if he feared when he woke, you wouldn't be there. 

Your heart was gripped by the softness of the gesture and you didn't want it to end.

You reached your hand up, running your fingers down his face and neck. The touch was enough to wake him. He stirred, then jolted with realization.

“You're awake!!!” Tears gathered in his eyes as he cupped your face with both his hands. “You're ok.” He smiled and swallowed so hard you could hear it. You embraced him, burying your face in his neck.

“I love you.” 

You froze. You didn't expect him to actually confess to you while you were awake. Hunter sensed your hesitancy and started to pull away, but before he could move an inch, you were grabbing him toward yourself again. 

“I love you, too. So much.”

“Can…we talk? I can't wait anymore.”

“Of course.”

Hunter turned shy. He found his hands extremely interesting as he fiddled with the blanket rim. His face turned red and he tripped over his words.

“I only said what I did because besides you….I wouldn't want to marry any other woman. Who would I even marry…if it wasn't you?”

He paused briefly before continuing.

“I always felt like you deserved way better than me…I can't offer you anything but myself and that's not much of a gift.”

“Hunter! No! You—” 

He gave you a sheepish look and cut you off.

“And I'm so sorry for everything that happened, for how I hurt you. I should have gone to you sooner, I should have…”

Now it was your turn to cut him off, but instead of with words, you captured his mouth with yours in a kiss 

You felt his shock, which made you smile, and soon he joined and returned your soft show of love, holding you even closer than before.

“You scared me.” Hunter said, kisses becoming needier. 

“You scared me first!” You countered, meeting his veracity. “More than once!”

When you both stopped for breath, you settled back in his embrace. 

“Hunter, you're all I could ever need or want. The gift of yourself is more precious than anything or anyone in the galaxy, and that's more than I deserve. All I've ever wanted was the war to end so we could have a family of our own, your brothers all be near us if they're not with us while we raise Omega and children of our own.”

Hunter's face darkened. 

“I wasn't strong enough to protect you or keep this family together. I lost Omega.”

“You didn't lose her, Hunter. She made a choice. She didn't want to lose you, and neither did I. You don't control the galaxy or have some responsibility for everything that happens. It's ok to breathe, Hunt, and let go. All we can do is move onward and face the galaxy together, just like we always do.”

Hunter nodded, the shadow slowly falling from his face, replaced with something gentler. 

“And that story I told before, about you in the white dress?”

“Yeah?” You blushed sheepishly, recalling with a bubbling laugh trapped inside your chest. 

“What do you say we make that real?” Leaning closer, he whispered in your ear, “I want to see you all in white, for real. I want to be yours, only yours, forever. I want to have a family, with you and only you. My brothers can all live close by and we can all be together. We can raise Omega the way she deserves to be raised…and I can love you, the way you deserve to be loved.”

“Yes! Oh yes! My sergeant, I am yours and only yours, now and forever!”

Filled with new determination, you smiled even wider, gripped his hand and got out of bed.

“Come on, now, love, let's go get our kid. Time to bring our family home. Time to start healing and growing.”

"The Empire be warned, we're coming."

Dividers by @stars-n-spice @ve-ti-ver and @djarrex

[greenhappyseed]

MHA 419 leak reactions (real ones this time!)

AFO yells at armless child Izuku in the mind palace. That tracks.

Attacking Tomura’s psychological scars allowed AFO to re-emerge. This also tracks. If heart is power, and a scarred, fractured, walled-off interior allows for AFO’s control, then yeah, Izuku cracking “Tomura’s” armor inadvertently allowed AFO to take over the mind palace.

Oh but AFO just has to get one last jab in against Tomura, so of course he monologues about how Tomura never made a decision for himself in his whole life. Which isn’t ENTIRELY true — AFO couldn’t control young Tenko’s desire to be a hero to Mikkun and Tomo-chan…and to the League of Villains.

We do learn that AFO encouraged Tenko’s conception so he could get his perfect successor, which is just so Enji Todoroki of him.

AFO was close enough to touch baby Tenko (!!!) because he stole candy a quirk from the baby. Then AFO waited years to make Kotaro think Tenko was quirkless before implanting Decay, which is itself engineered from a quirk that could both disintegrate AND reconstruct. Boy does THAT sound like a copy of Overhaul (who was an orphan that AFO was oddly familiar with and knew by name….)

We get both a hero name (Gaen) AND real name for En (Tayutai)! No idea what they mean — Google Translate and Jsho are giving inconsistent answers — but I’m excited to find out when official translations are released!

“Tomura Shigaraki” decays and Izuku is ejected from the mind palace. But AFO doesn’t get his brother back. He says Yoichi is gone. Ruh-roh! He also says Decay and the hatred are gone. And he hears a mysterious echo. Hmm, what could be echoing inside AFO’s mind???

Izuku, now in the real world, tries to stop AFO (who is piloting Shigaraki’s meat suit). But IZUKU DISCOVERS HIS ARMS ARE GONE???? I mean, it’s not shocking bc Horikoshi has hinted at it for forever, but inneresting that either (1) the mind palace and real world ARE entertwined; or (2) AFO took Izuku’s arms as soon as he emerged in the real world. I think it’s the former, which opens the door to some fun shenanigans. I.e., what can the heroes do in the mind palace to harm AFO?

AFO taunts Izuku and says that he “from the start had nothing” … EXCEPT FOR REAL FRIENDS THAT COME TO HIS RESCUE!!!! Sero holds back AFO, proving once again that AFO has a weakness for sticky things like tape and, uh, Mineta’s balls.

Ojiro and Sato are close behind, helping Sero hold off AFO. Of course, Izuku says, “You’re safe” because he doesn’t stop thinking of others even after he lost his actual arms. How did Sero, Ojiro, and Sato get to Mt Fuji so fast?

BECAUSE AIZAWA IS BAAAAAACK!!!

Clearly, something happened with him, Mic, and Kurogiri, and they’re able to use/control Warp Gate. I am hyped and ready for this flashback, please give the Rooftop Trio 2-3 good chapters.

ALSO. Am I the only one curious that Aizawa is in proximity to AFO, and AFO always wanted Erasure? Aizawa has fought multiple Nomu and the entire League at one time or another, but he’s never been near AFO. Then again, Aizawa can’t fight with Erasure himself, so perhaps AFO taking it can get Aizawa into the mind palace……

[ohnoitstbskyen]

"Luffy... help me..."

It's often been said about One Piece that you should "read it until Arlong Park," but it's one very specific MOMENT in Arlong Park that's important here. If this resonates with you, you're a One Piece fan, and if it doesn't, well, maybe it's not for you.

Let me tell you about it.

TRANSCRIPT:

Which are the best panels in One Piece?

It's often said in the One Piece community that you should stick with it until Arlong Park, and if you're not into One Piece by that point, THAT's when you know it's not a series for you.

I think this is true, and the reason why is this scene. This scene is how you know.

Nami has spent eight years working on her own, since she was a child of only ten, lying, deceiving, stealing, fighting and scamming, all to gather the money that Arlong wants so she can save her village. And now with the goal in sight, Arlong uses the Navy (all Marines are bastards) to steal her money so he can keep exploiting her.

The villagers she has been protecting have had enough, and are going to throw themselves at the fishmen and die, and the beloved friends she made on the Straw Hat Crew keep refusing to leave even though she KNOWS that Arlong will kill them. Her every ray of hope and all of her attempts at keeping control have failed and now, reduced to incoherent rage and sorrow, she sits in the dirt stabbing a dagger into the tattoo on her shoulder, because hurting herself is the only thing she can do to spite Arlong.

And then Luffy comes along and stops her.

She yells at him, throws dirt at him, rejects him, tells him to f*** off basically, and when he doesn't… because she has nothing else left, because there's no plan, because everything is falling down around her, she finally lets down her walls, and says what's in her heart. "Luffy… help me." (p 200, first panel)

And Luffy takes off his hat, his treasure, and gives it to her, and walks forward, and with his characteristic cartoony ridiculousness screams as loud he possibly can "OF COURSE I WILL."

Luffy doesn't know why she needs him. He doesn't know why she lied, why she stole the ship, he doesn't know about Belle-Mère or Nojiko or Nami's deal with Arlong. And he doesn't need to know, because she's his friend and she's his crew, and he loves her, she doesn't need a tragic backstory to deserve his help, she deserves it because she needs it, she deserves it because she asked.

Luffy knows that every time Nami tried to push him away, every time she told him to fuck off and leave her, her heart wasn't in it. Just like he'll know it with Robin, just like he'll know it with Sanji. And he knows that when she asks him for help, she has never meant anything more deeply in her life.

For that, he will move mountains. For that, he will level fortresses, he will smite gods and he will slay dragons. For love does Luffy do these things.

People hype up the moment when the crew get together and go to Arlong Park as the best moment of this chapter, and I'm not gonna say that it isn't awesome. Badass as hell, absolutely certified.

But… this chapter belongs to Nami, and her moment right here, because this is the moment that a girl who has fought so hard and so alone for so long finally finds the strength and the courage that it takes to trust someone else to lift your burdens.