#i mean sure you could argue that the rest are bastards

[whateverthought]

Honestly, if Cersei had had 1 child who looked like Robert, she probably could have prevented like, HALF of her problems

[gay-jesus-probably]

Seeing as the Gerudo turned on Ganon, he might not have been that much better of a ruler.

First of all, we literally have no idea, because the only ancient Gerudo that we actually get to interact with is Ganondorf himself, and he has nothing to say about his own people. The ancient Gerudo sage doesn't count btw, she doesn't have a name, we never even see her face, and she has literally nothing to say except repeating the exact same dialogue as the sages for the other races. The narrative does not treat the ancient sages as people; they are four completely interchangable weapons that are owned by the royal family.

And secondly, I don't care how Ganon ruled them; the Gerudo only get one man every century, if their king sucks, they've obviously got their own system of government to fall back on. I have no idea what kind of authority the sages had among their own people, but honestly I'd say if the four of them were in charge of their respective people, then they were just puppet rulers appointed by Rauru, given that all four of them happily agreed that to sell their entire race into servitude the second Zelda asked them. Say what you will about Ganondorf, but I fucking know that if he was told the Gerudo people existed for the sole purpose of serving the glory of Hyrule, he'd drop kick Zelda into the fucking sun.

And don't get me started on the implications of the cultural differences we see between the independent Gerudo and the annexed Gerudo. The background Gerudo characters all have their own models, and we can clearly see that the ones siding with Ganon have their own unique looks - for example, the amazing lady with the mohawk that summons the molduga swarm in that one flashback. And men are never mentioned in these flashbacks at all, which implies that the Gerudo genuinely didn't care about settling down. Ganon even speaks derisively about marriage, implying that it's very rare for Gerudo women to make serious romantic commitments with men. It implies that their culture is more along the same line as their portrayal in OOT - they are a closed culture. Men trying to force their way into their areas are arrested, and mocked for being entitled dumbasses. Outsiders are only welcome if they can prove that they respect the Gerudo as people, and aren't just there to try and pick up chicks. It's never outright said, but OOT also makes it pretty clear that the Gerudo women just aren't interested in marrying outsiders - close relationships occur with other Gerudo, Hylian men are only considered useful for making babies.

Meanwhile the Gerudo we see serving Hyrule are all trying to measure up to Hylian beauty standards, and appeal to their men. Their one goal in life is to meet a man and get married. Men are welcome in their lands, and only kept out of the town itself... and even then, there's a small army of guys trying to force their way into the town anyways, which is brushed off as just haha, boys will be boys. No men allowed isn't even about independence, it's just a silly romantic tradition.

Of course this is just a fictional culture in a game world, but it's still really fucking uncomfortable that the 'evil' Gerudo are the ones that have independence, both politically and socially, and display a unique culture that refuses to tolerate disrespect from outsiders. Meanwhile the 'good' Gerudo are the ones that canonically exist to serve a kingdom where 95% of the population is light skinned (even setting aside the unfortunate implications, just saying one race exists to serve a different one is super fucked up), they have classes on how to be more appealing to Hylian's, and their entire social structure is built around finding a Hylian man to marry, making them all inherently dependent on the goodwill of outsiders. Even their biggest value of 'women only' is treated as a joke; men trying to trespass in BOTW are just shoved back out the door, letting them keep trying all day if they want. The crowds of men plotting to force their way in are laughed off as a joke. Nobody cares that there's a guy running laps around their city walls and trying to trick women into being alone with him. I mean for fucks sake, in TOTK we find that the creepy guy trying to lure women away has taken advantage of a massive disaster to get into the town, and he's still there once things return to normal. You can't kick him out, or alert anyone to his presence. And the Gerudo just tolerate Hylians blatantly ignoring their boundaries. For fucks sake, TOTK even reveals that the seven legendary heroines they've been revering the whole time were actually completely useless and unable to achieve anything... because they needed the eighth hero, a Hylian man to teach them basic tactics and do all the heavy lifting.

TOTK does not respect the Gerudo people in the slightest. It doesn't respect anyone who isn't Hylian or Zonai.

...This got a little off track, but the point I'm trying to make is, no, I don't consider the Gerudo turning on Ganon to mean anything. The entire game does not feel like the real story of what happened, it feels like the propaganda version of history meant to make Hyrule look as good as possible. I genuinely cannot believe that we're being told the real story about the Imprisoning War, because none of it feels real, and we don't get to know any details that might have made Hyrule look even slightly imperfect. We're told that Ganondorf is evil because he hates Hyrule, and he hates Hyrule because he's evil. The Gerudo people followed Ganondorf and saw him as a hero of their people, then suddenly he was their worst enemy. Hyrule is a perfect kingdom that has strong, equal alliances with the other races, but also all of the non-Hylian races exist for the sole purpose of serving Hyrule, and their leaders are expected to swear eternal loyalty and submission to the Hylian royal family. King Rauru and Queen Sonia united all of the races in peace and equality, which is why they're sitting on the world's supply of magical nuclear missiles, and every member of the Hylian royal family is allowed to walk around wearing them as cute accessories, but everyone else only gets them at the last second, and they all need to outright swear to only use that power to benefit Rauru and his descendants.

There's just so many fucked up contradictions, and so many hints of something more nuanced going on... but the story refuses to acknowledge any of it, and just keeps aggressively pushing the narrative that Hyrule is the ultimate good and couldn't possibly do anything wrong. I don't even believe that Ganon was a bad king honestly; we never hear why his people stopped following him. We also never even see if the Gerudo people turned on him at all; all we know is the ancient Gerudo sage wanted him dead, and given that she also happily sold her people into slavery, she's not exactly the most trustworthy source of information. All we know is that Ganondorf was a hero to his people, only one of his citizens is ever shown having an issue with him (and her motives are never explained), and then he lost the war and was sealed away, leaving his people open to be conquered by Zelda and annexed into Hyrule. By the time we see any Gerudo actually opposing Ganon (apart from the ancient sage), it's been ten thousand years since the war, and all anyone knows is the Hylian version of the story.

[aurumalatus]

𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

pairing. kinich x fem!reader

word count. 2.1k

genre/warnings. princess!reader, knight!kinich, slight enemies to lovers (not really, they just argue but idk the term for that tbh LOL), pixelprincess!au

summary.

ever since he became your personal guard, you've found kinich to be a royal pain in your ass. you've always assumed he felt the same, until the night of your matching ball. now, you're not sure what this burning in your chest means after all.

author's note. this is a drabble as part of a universe that i'm calling pixelprincess (knight!kinich x princess!reader). i don't really have a full fic planned for this or anything, i just have a bunch of small headcanons about them and i love aus so feel free to scream about them with me HAHA. thank you for reading! reblogs/interaction highly appreciated!

𝐩𝐢𝐱𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐚𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

If there’s one thing you can definitively say about Kinich, it’s that he’s not stupid.

Honestly, you could say a lot of things. You’ve heard the rumors just like everyone else, about the fearsome Captain of the Guard who passed training within a single day. They whisper that he holds a dragon’s power in his heart, a fact that strikes fear into any nation that dares encroach upon your territory. His reputation precedes him, and he’s somewhat of a mystery to the general public—most of them envision him as a hero, the key to the nation’s defense.

If there’s another thing you can definitively say about Kinich, it’s that sometimes, you wish he was stupid.

The castle always feels larger during the summer, when the sunlight bathes the interior with gold and the halls bustle with movement during the day. Guards and aides rush in every direction, though none of them seem to spare a glance in your direction; there’s simply far too much to pay attention to today.

The maids are replacing the vases with fresh flora, Brilliant Chrysanthemums and Saurian Claw Succulents that make the room seem brighter, discussing which configuration looks the best. You know them all, of course; growing up within the castle meant that these women had practically raised you. Even as an adult, it’s hard to escape them when they feel like pinching your cheeks and reminiscing on old times.

Sensing the coast is clear, you crack the door open another millimeter, carefully slipping into the hall and blending in with the crowd. The maids, luckily, don’t notice, still fussing over petals and stems. You’d calculated this time exactly—right now, the guard patrol should be across the castle, checking the entrances before the ball tonight. If your information wasn’t wrong, then you should have just enough time to make it to the servants’ passages, and then out to the garden—

“Oh?”

The familiar voice makes you murmur some choice curse words under your breath. Of course, the dark-haired man in front of you is always several steps ahead of everyone. He’s leaning against the stone wall, looking entirely too pleased with himself, as if he knows something you don’t.

“Princess,” Kinich greets, bowing his head despite how you wave him off—you’ve never been one for formalities. “What are you doing here?”

“Just taking a walk.”

You move at a brisk pace past him, but Kinich is faster—he always is, the annoying bastard. Before you can turn the corner, there’s the blade of a greatsword blocking your path. No matter how much you see it, you’re always surprised by the size of the damn thing—you’re shocked he can even lift it as it is. A half-smirk rests on his lips when you gasp.

“Taking a walk away from your lessons? I do believe your teacher’s room is in the opposite direction.”

The annoying thing about Kinich is that he truly knows everything, including your schedules. He’s thorough to a near fault, though you suppose that that’s exactly the kind of person who would be fit for Captain of the Guard. Still, you duck under his sword, unwilling to make eye contact.

“Lessons are tomorrow. I have other plans today.”

Kinich falls into step beside you, and the halls are suddenly clear of people—the crowd parts before you, a stubborn rock among a rushing river. You’re unsure if it’s due to your status, or due to your temper—it’s a well-known fact in the castle that Kinich can get you wound up quite quickly.

“And what might these other plans be?” 

He always has too many damn questions, you think. Silently, you curse your father for assigning him to you. A series of attempts on your life last year had made him paranoid, and he’d been quick to promote the strongest knight as your personal guard. Back then, you’d been fooled just like everyone else into thinking that Kinich was some kind of serious, straight-laced hero. Instead, you’d since discovered that he was seriously annoying.

“Can I guess?” he asks, deftly dodging past the maids carrying bundles of tablecloths and the waiters carrying sky-high stacks of platters. 

“No, you can’t. In fact, you can’t even ask. I should have you executed for that.”

Kinich raises a brow, amused. “The Queen would never let that happen.”

And, unfortunately, he’s correct. Your mother absolutely adores Kinich as if he were her own son, and it irritates you to no end—especially when she heavy-handedly suggests that you make him your groom. The door to the back stairwell falls into view, so you break into a jog as you reach the end of the hall, but he’s right on your heel.

If I can just make it to the stairs…

Kinich steps in front of you again, not allowing you an inch further, and you nearly scream in frustration.

“If I didn’t know any better—”

You scoff. “And you, in fact, don’t know anything—”

“—I would say that you’re trying to avoid going to the ball.”

And, once again, you wish that just once Kinich would let something fly over his head.

Utterly defeated, you collapse into one of the plush chairs nearby, fanning your face. Kinich stands over you, a bit tense, as if he thinks you’re going to try to run again. You won’t; at this point, you’re too tired.

“So what if I am?” you finally admit. “You always complain about them anyway. I find it a little unfair that you’re allowed to and I’m not.”

As great as he is at his job as a guard, Kinich isn’t so great at facing the public, despite how popular he is among them (particularly the women). Whenever he can, he avoids social events like the plague, often volunteering to run perimeter duty as a precaution rather than attending with you. You, unfortunately, don’t have that luxury.

Kinich sighs, resting his weight on his sword. “I don’t complain, it’s just annoying when everyone is so loud and—”

You snap your fingers, interrupting and pointing at him accusingly. “You hear that? What you were just doing? That’s called complaining.”

Realizing he was caught in the act, Kinich rolls his eyes. “How very profound of you. If you put that much effort into your escape routes, maybe you would’ve made it this time.”

Your gaze narrows. “How about I stick a profound fist up your a—”

“Kinich? Is that you?”

The booming voice makes you both straighten up instantly. Kinich smoothly sheaths his sword, saluting to the king as he makes his way down the hall. You’re far less graceful about it, gathering up your skirts messily and quickly curtseying to your father. 

“Your Highness,” you both echo.

If your father notices the tension between the two of you, he doesn’t say so; he looks as jolly as always, even more so because of the event today. He’s the social type, a trait you unfortunately did not inherit.

“Just the two people I was hoping to see,” he laughs, a full-bodied sound that booms from his chest. “I’m glad that the two of you get along so well.”

To your irritation, Kinich smirks, while you offer your father a thin-lipped smile.

“Of course,” you lie, sneakily jabbing your guard in the ribs. He coughs. “We get along like a house on fire.”

“That’s good,” your father says, nodding encouragingly. “You’ll both do well later tonight then.”

Your heart drops at the thought of attending the event. You know how long your parents have been planning this, and how long they’ve been practically begging you to find a companion. It’s all a long-winded scheme to find you a princely partner, and not one that you particularly appreciate—a great majority of the princes you’ve met are far too full of themselves. You truly have no interest in any of them.

Kinich, however, pointedly clears his throat at your father’s wording.

“Both of us?” he asks, enunciating slowly. “I’m not sure I follow, sir.”

You perk up in interest—that detail had been lost on you.

“I invited several princes from neighboring nations today,” your father says, eyeing you with a pitying stare. You try not to feel offended. “I want my daughter to find someone suitable for her, no matter who that may be. Still, I was hoping you could attend with her this time? I know it’s not your favorite, but I would feel uncomfortable with her being around so many strangers alone.”

Kinich’s smirk falters, and he suddenly falls still. You wonder if he’s irritated by the prospect of attending the ball at your side. 

(Distantly, you wonder why the thought of that makes you feel a bit ill.)

The silence grows awkward, and you rock on your heels, searching for something to say. Your guard looks a bit lost for words, likely because he wasn’t prepared for so much social interaction today. You can’t really blame him—if you were in his shoes, you wouldn’t be thrilled either.

“Actually, Your Highness, that won’t be necessary.”

Your eyes nearly pop out of your skull at Kinich’s reply, but you hurry to control your expression, unwilling to give anything away to your father. The king raises a brow.

“And why is that?” he asks.

Kinich gnaws on his lip, an action that is wholly unlike him—you don’t think you’ve ever seen him appear nervous about anything in his life. Still, he meets your father’s gaze head on, coughs once, then says:

“The princess isn’t feeling well. I think it’d be best if she didn’t attend the ball today.”

He nudges your foot just as your father’s gaze drifts to you, and you thank your lucky stars that you did inherit your mother’s dramatics. You throw a hand over your forehead, fanning yourself aggressively.

“Since this morning,” you explain, looking as pitiful as possible, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Thank the archons Kinich was here, otherwise I might’ve fainted earlier.”

And you really do feel guilty when your father’s eyes well up with tears of worry.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” he cries, then turns to one of his aides in a panic. “Call the doctor! Have him attend to her immediately. And announce that she’ll be absent from our festivities tonight.”

You force yourself to hide your smile at his announcement. Your eyes flicker over to Kinich, but for once, he doesn’t seem the slightest bit amused—in fact, he still looks troubled. Your father fusses over you for a bit longer, asking a series of questions about what you’d eaten and who you’d been in contact with. You answer as honestly as you can—the least you can do—and then he directs Kinich to escort you back to your room.

The hallway seems to empty out quickly after that display, and then it’s just you and your guard. For some reason, he seems to avoid your eyes. He doesn’t speak, merely offering you his arm, and after a moment, you take it. 

“So, what changed your mind?” you ask, unwilling to let him sit in silence. He looks displeased by your question, but answers anyway.

“Nothing,” he says, expression blank, “I just didn’t think you should go to the ball tonight.”

The tips of his ears are flushed red, you note. Liar. 

Still, Kinich keeps countless secrets that you’re sure you’ll never know, and you suppose it doesn’t really matter why he decided to let you off the hook tonight. Really, you’re just grateful you’ll get to sleep peacefully with no stinking princes breathing down your neck. The thought makes you smile as you finally reach your bedroom door.

“Well, what a shame it is,” you sigh sarcastically, turning the knob, “I could’ve been dancing the night away with the love of my life. Now I might never meet him.”

The corner of Kinich’s lip twitches.

“As if,” he replies gruffly, a touch too fast. “You wouldn’t like any of them anyway. They’re not nearly capable of handling you.”

Your eyes narrow, irritated by the implication. “And you are?”

He raises a brow in response. “Aren’t I?”

It comes out uncharacteristically soft. A switch seems to flip in the room, and you suddenly start feeling sick for real—it’s too hot, too quiet. Kinich’s stare weighs on you heavily, and you get lost in the depth of it. You freeze where you are, bedroom door half-open, and you can almost pick out the meaning in his words when he turns away, clearing his throat.

“Goodnight, princess,” he murmurs over his shoulder. “Sweet dreams, and…get well soon.”

He makes his exit without another word, and you wonder if he’s still working tonight. Is he still going to guard the ball? The perimeter? What if one of the other princesses takes a liking to him—

You huff, deciding you don’t care and slamming the door shut. The ball is bound to be a drag, and you find Kinich annoying, you think as you fall into bed. You’re happy about this arrangement. Overjoyed, even.

Yes, you find Kinich very annoying.

…Don’t you?

[aluraveil]

sunday and ayato are both very alike in certain ways.

they both have sweet younger sisters that they care a lot about, are the heads to their respective families, have a lot of influence and power, hell they both even have blue hair for fucks sake.

but when it comes to their darling, they are both alike and different in terms of how life would be like with them. for instance they're both alike in how they would want you to be well acquainted with their sisters.

ayato loves his younger sister ayaka very much and wants to protect her from the corrupt and shady side of inazuman politics. ayato has and always will be a family man and his family comes first before everything else. not to mention, ayato needs a heir to continue the kamisato bloodline.

sunday loves his younger sister robin a lot. sunday was very close with his sister during their childhood days and he would even listen to robin's mini concert with him as the audience and a couple of other stuffed animals. sunday loves his sister, but he also both loved and cared for the people of penacony. sunday cared for them so much to the point where he didn't care if he suffered, but if everyone else could live in paradise in a sweet dream for the rest of their life, then it would make his suffering worth it.

they're also alike in how their darling wouldn't be able to escape them at all. ayato is known as someone who works behind the scenes and he has somebody else do the dirty work himself. ayato is a master strategist and he has the shuumatsuban on his side. the shuumatsuban mainly deals with espionage, gathering evidence against corrupt officials of inazuma, and they're loyal as hell meaning that they report whatever they find to ayato. the shuumatsuban is willing to give up their life if it means protecting their lord ayato against an assasination attempt. ayato will also have the shuumatsuban on your back secretly watching you in the shadows as you go about your day inside the kamisato estate when ayato is forced to be pulled away from you due to his never-ending pile of paperwork and meetings inside his office.

escape certainly isnt possible with ayato that's also how sunday can relate as well. sunday was someone who secretly conspired with the order behind everyone's backs not to mention he also managed to hide it until the very end. if that doesn't prove that sunday is a master conspirator then i dont know what will. sunday was also shown to have many different birds lying around penacony as a way for him to spy on certain people and things. with no doubt, those birds will be watching you like a hawk perched on top of a tree branch making sure to make eye contact with you- almost like a warning telling you not to get any funny ideas since the bird is around.

though they're alike in many parts, they're also different as well. for instance, they both handle escape attempts very differently.

ayato finds it so cute and adorable whenever you try to escape. the moment that you're forced onto ayato's feet on your knees when the shuumatsuban drag you back is quite amusing to him because of the sour look on your face. in fact, ayato even encourages it. ayato's a sly bastard who knows just what to do and say to get you all riled up and the worst part of it is that he does it on fucking purpose. ayato openly mocks your escape attempts because of how desperate you were and he just sits back and enjoys the show whenever you try to reason or argue with him.

sunday also finds escape attempts funny but after a certain point, they're not so hilarious. sunday finds it frustrating with how frequent your escape attempts become and at first he humored you but now he's just straight up dissapointed. sunday believed that if he allowed you to try and escape, you'd realize how futile they were and just how powerless you were compared to the head of the oak family. after a while, sunday just opts to cuffing your wrist to his own that way you can be with him at all times and that way you can stop making his birds work overtime.

but to pair both ayato and sunday together with a darling would be a recipe for disaster. to pit two yanderes who have a lot of money and influence together would make them an unstoppable duo. having them both share a darling would just mess with their head due to ayato's mind games and sunday's annoying proximity with you due to the cuff binding your wrists together.

lets just hope you would never get stuck in this situation between this deadly duo of yanderes.

[evilminji]

Oh shit :D ?

I just remembered! (Thank you, historical fantasy section!) But like? Serving and protecting The King, especially a HIGH KING, is quite literally not just an incredible honor... but it can sometimes be a person's Life Ambition?

Specificly a WORTHY king.

Perhaps they were denied in life. Perhaps they FAILED. And in their dying moments struggle with all they were to LIVE. To PROTECT. Perhaps the PREVIOUS king was a great and worthy ruler... but their heir is...

Unworthy.

Maybe they are born to an age without Rulers. Power shifting between hands in hidden halls. Unclear and murky. All they want is for their loyalty to MEAN something. For things to be SIMPLE.

The universe is large. The Infinite Realms? Unimaginably larger.

And Pariah Dark was a BASTARD.

Who would willingly swear to him? Fools! That's who! Every warrior soul worth ANYTHING gets as far AWAY from his Realm forsaken resting place as they can. Hides. Lest they be dragged in to his infernal, gods forsaken, cess pit of a so called "army"! *disgusted spitting noises*

But what does this mean? It means every trained FIGHTER... got the hell out of dodge. Oh, sure, a FEW refused. Like Pandora and her people. But most? The farthest side of NOWHERE, several layers down! Some still GOING! Better to be decried as cowards then have ANYTHING to do with THAT(said with loathing)!

It also means they weren't where Pariah could get to them when he woke. Couldn't help. Couldn't fight. Couldn't be commanded to kneel. Nothing. They removed themselves completely. Planned on CONTINUING to remove themselves. Preferably to the farthest reaches of forever, far beyond the bastard's gaze.

But! The whole REALM INFINITE felt it? When that... that hissing, acidic, malicious undertone? SLAMS back and away, like somebody's knocked a parasite from their backs. Replaced by coolness and starlight. Delicate balance and blood on your teeth. The pounding in your chest of HOPE.

It flutters so small across their backs, inside their chests. Washing away the old.

The King... feels tiny. Young.

.......what are they doing? Running like this. Hiding away like that will change anything. How long... when did...

There are so many of them now. A veritable army of souls, of all Ages and People's. Every armor and crest imaginable. They'd been so.. so REPULSED by Pariah... nothing else had mattered but to get AWAY. Where even ARE they? What YEAR is it? Does any of that matter?

The King.

Their Obsessions whisper. Loyalty. Service. Protection. Honor. You have left you post! Abandoned your DUTY! What are you DOING!?

They are AGHAST. They turn around at once. The King! How could they have ABANDONED the King!? Who is guarding him if they are all HERE?!

Himself!?

(Yes. Danny is fine. He is eating the "Thank You for keeping us all from dying to whatever the FUCK that was!" tamales Paulina's mom pushed into his arms on his way back home. He didn't even try arguing. He made eye contact and knew he would lose.)

(Why does he feel like something really, really bothersome is headed his way?)

It's UNACCEPTABLE. Unthinkable! The King? Unguarded? Where assassination attempts and nefarious PLOTS could occur?! What if someone tried to steal his eggs!? Or attacked him while his exoskeleton was molting!? They aren't entirely sure which species he is yet, but there are SO MANY NEFARIOUS PLOTS OUT THERE!!

*panicked honor guards*

Just? Imagine becoming king. And thinking "well, aside from the skeleton army I have to figure out, at least I don't have to manage anybody!" Only to *WABAM!* your ENTIRE GHOST COURT shows up like a week later. Turns out they were hiding from your predecessor.

You have a whole ass honor gaurd. Who REFUSE TO LEAVE YOUR SIDE. You have Chefs. Who WILL cry if you send them away. The Literal Best In The Multiverse are all following you around... YOU, a RANDOM TEENAGE, with Excited Shoujo Sparkles in their eyes... because you punched a jackass really, REALLY hard.

There is no way to make this stop. Your friends are laughing at you. The interior decorator wants you to look at swatches. What are swatches and why are you being harrased by them at 1am, you wonder? If you are Mean(tm) they throw themselves upon the floor and blame themselves for their Wicked, Evil, King-Upseting Ways and you can't even TELL if your being played here.

It's like being bullied by house elves. Or Miette.

Your parents are too excited by all the New Research (at least the reveal went well?) To SAVE THEIR SON, and your sister is HELPING THE ENEMY (Traitor!), so now you're being bullied into eating vegetables and studying more.

Then? THEN!! WHO SHOWS UP?! Like... five WEEKS late?! The Justice League. Gee! GREAT RESPONSE TIME, GUYS! Reeeal snappy! But ya, JUST missed the guy!

.......YES HES BEING SARCASTIC!!!

@hdgnj @stealingyourbones

[himimosa]

when they are sick

taking care of bsd men when they are sick...

fyodor, kunikida, dazai

Fyodor Dostoevsky

He is the person who walks around sick for almost half of a year, with a lot of sniffs and sneezes. Somehow he can manage to catch a cold even in summer. You say it is because he has an awful immune system

He already has anemia that makes his body weak. And if a bad cold is added too, he becomes almost pathetic...

If you ask him, he says he is used to being sick most of the time, but that is not true. He tried to take pills a few times for his anemia but they were useless (no, i am not self-projecting here, nope)

Most of the time, he can pull to do his work even if that means carrying tissues with him everywhere.

He hates the times when he got extra bad cold, it causes delays in his work. He is not someone who will accept to see a doctor even though his fever runs high. So if you're going to accompany him, you have to use more conventional ways...

You know hot soup, warm shower, herbal teas... He will act like you are being too "histrionic" and he is doing fine, but he will appreciate it secretly...

You put a mix of mint and linden leaves into the french press, added a tiny piece of ginger, and then poured hot water. After you waited for a while you poured out the liquid through a strainer. You had chosen your fav “I like mugs because they’re very comfortable in your hand” mug for it.

You entered the room where Fyodor was laying, he was trying to read a book but he was coughing constantly. You pulled the book from his hands: "Please drink this and rest a little. I am sure your book can wait for you." you scolded him lightly. He didn't argue with you, which was a sign that he was really feeling bad.

He took the mug, and looked at the writing on it "I don't understand why this is written on a mug" You chuckled "Because either you don't have a sense of humor or you have never heard Demi Lovato before dear.."

"Is it really an inadequacy of me that I don't get the references from the pop culture that was brought to people by no one but-"

"Darling darling..." you interrupted him "You can talk for hours about fatuity of popularism later, but I am begging you, drink this tea. now..."

He was annoyed by your interruption but he complied with your request. He sniffed before taking a sip. Then his face turned into a disgusted expression.

"Did you put ginger in this tea?.."

Kunikida Doppo

This poor man will go through the 5 stages of grief in order...

Denial: "I am not sick, I just got shivers for a second! This doesn't mean anything!" "No, I don't look awful or tired, I am fine!"

Anger: "This is because of that Dazai asshole! That nasty bastard sneezed right into my face and contaminated me with his viruses!"

Bargaining: "...Okay some inconveniences might happen but it's not that bad", "I will drink this tea and get better in an instant. No, I don't need a break, I will be fine"

Depression: "... What will happen to the agency if I use two days off?" "...my program... I will be left behind on it.."

Acceptance: "..President, may I use two days off to recover?"

He knew it is natural to get sick for people... But it wasn't written in his ideals book... He must add some notes about this too...

All he wants is quickly recover and get back to his responsibilities. So he will see a doctor, he will take his medicines, will drink all the herbal tea he needs to drink...You don't have to do much indeed, he is someone who takes care of himself well. But this doesn't mean he won't appreciate it if you do some thoughtful things for him...

"I'm home" you called to him when you entered the house with your keys. You dropped the bags that you got from the grocery store to the kitchen. You could organize them later, you went right ahead to the room where Kunikida was resting. He tried to get up to greet you but you acted quicker and hugged him while he was still sitting. He froze for only one second, then slowly wrapped his arms around you

"Y/N... You shouldn't be this close to me, you will get sick too..." He murmured but didn't push you away too. You shrugged your shoulders while still hugging him "Then I will use a day off with my sick boyfriend, that doesn't seem so bad to me" Kunikida chuckled lightly "If we both use a day off at the same time, I can't imagine what sort of chaos would the agency have..." Then he slowly pulled himself back to see you eye-to-eye and started to ask you questions... How is the agency going? Were budget calculations accurate? Have you taken new cases? What kind of ruckus did Dazai cause when he wasn't around to lecture him? How many calls did you get for his suicide attempts this time?

You told him about how you took care of everything on his behalf with everyone's help (well mostly with the help of Atsushi, Kyoka, Kenji, and Tanizaki siblings... basically with minors of Ada...) But even Dazai wasn't acting so "wild". He was whining about how the agency became too quiet and no-fun without Kunikida and all the joy he got from work vanished without Kunikida...

"Everyone can't wait to get you better love they are planning to visit you tomorrow night," you told with a smile. Kunikida coughed and covered his mouth, then mumbled: "I see..." You knew he did it to hide the light blush and embarrassed smile on his face, but you didn't tease him for it. After all, he was deserving it all...

Dazai Osamu

Here comes the drama king...

First, let's be honest here... He is treating his own body like shit... We saw him in his flat, this man doesn't even cook for himself. He literally feeds with sake and canned crabs only... Despite that, he doesn't get sick easily. He has the durability of a cockroach (i swear i love him, these insults are with affection)

He is the kind of person who doesn't get sick even there is a cold season and everyone around him got ill. He catches the sickness not more once than a year, but when he gets ill, it is always the most unexpected time.

Once, while he was still in the port mafia he got a very bad cold right before an important mission. When Mori saw his situation, he had to cancel the mission.

Because this man acts like he is on the deathbed when he is sick...

"So I made some research on the internet... With all these symptoms on me; either I have some kind of chronic illness, or brain tumor.. which leads us to the conclusion that I have only 2 weeks to live..." "Or, you have a cold, you shithead.." "Do not act like you are a doctor now Chuuya, or I will throw up to your precious hat..."

He didn't change much... The only difference is now he is being your boyfriend, you have to take care of this man like you are taking care of a child. He will act like he is much worse than he is to get all your affection and care... You will need a lot of patience, to be honest...

"Ew, there is no way I would drink that crap!" You thought for a millisecond to throw the bowl of soup to his face but you didn't have the heart for it. Even though he was acting like a spoiled brat, he was miserable right now. You knew he hadn't eaten anything since yesterday morning, you had to convince him to put something in his stomach no matter what...

"Why don't you want to drink this babe?" you asked with your sweetest tone. Dazai shrugged his shoulders "It smells bad, makes me want to puke..." You tried again "What if you push yourself? Just a little? I know it doesn't look appetizing but this soup is too good for cold, you will feel better after your drink I promise..."

Dazai looked at you with defeated eyes, he couldn't resist any longer "..fine then"

With excitement, you took one spoon from the bowl and carefully held it towards his mouth, you were cupping the other hand under the spoon to keep it from spilling. Dazai slowly opened his mouth, only to make a sour face "It is too hot!"

"Sorry baby, my bad" you apologized and started to cool it down by stirring it with the spoon. You took another spoon from the bowl, this time you blew a little air before giving it to Dazai. When he started to make some teasing comments on you would be a great nanny, you decided he was already getting better. You tried to get up after he finished his soup, but Dazai held you weakly by his wrist. "You won't leave me alone on my deathbed, right?" You rolled your eyes: "You're an idiot, you know that right?" He smirked lightly "But I am your idiot, and you still love me..." You couldn't control your smile this time. You gently removed the hair on his forehead and gave him a little peck "Yeap... Only mine to love..."

well, i couldn't still get over from this week's episode and couldnt't write anything new. this was on the drafts and not proof readed, but i will still share it. fyodor stans can use it as a denial of ep 11 :')

[toournextadventure]

movie night pt.v

Summary: Sam doesn't distrust you quite as much and Tara scares you. Guess that means it's time for them to meet the family.

Word Count: 6.4k Warnings: Excessive swearing, suggestive themes, Scream levels of violence/mentions of violence Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader (pt.i) (pt.ii) (pt.iii) (pt.iv) (pt.v) (pt.vi) (pt.vii) (pt.viii)

“One more attack and I’m takin’ you to Mercy,” Aunt Sherry said as she finished cleaning the dried blood on your neck. “Conscious or not.”

“I understand,” you said quietly. You supposed after another 17 stitches, you couldn’t really argue with her.

“Your Ma never wanted this life for you,” she said, her hand resting on your shoulder.

You knew she meant well, but this conversation wasn’t helping. Clearly Ma never wanted this for you, she hadn’t even wanted it for herself and Pop. Trouble was always quick to follow your family, and you were more than adept at figuring out how to navigate it. This was a different obstacle, sure, but you were clever, you could make it work.

None of you had been taught how to keep others out of trouble, though.

“I’ll see you at Mass,” you said with a smile before hopping out of the ambulance for the second time in 24 hours.

Anika had already been rushed to the hospital. As far as you knew, they were confident she would pull through. Damn, she was one tough sonofabitch. You would need to make sure you sent flowers or chocolates or something. What would she even like? Maybe you should ask Mindy.

“Who knows where you live?” Sam asked once you shuffled your way to the group. All these Ghostface attacks were giving you major deja vu.

“No one,” you said when you stopped beside Tony. “Did you tell anyone?”

“Course not,” he scoffed, “I know the family rules.”

“Well he found out somehow,” Chad said.

“Well it wasn’t from us, smart guy,” Tony said defensively. “We don’t tell nobody where we live.”

“Only ones who know are Garret and the lot of you,” you said. “And I only called Tara.”

“And where is Garret?” Mindy asked as she held her now-bandaged arm.

“His dad’s house up in the Hamptons,” you said with a shrug. “Not gettin’ back till next weekend.”

“And you’re sure he’s up there?” Tara asked.

“Yes I’m sure, now quit with the interrogation,” you huffed. “Got enough of a headache as it is.”

Tara didn’t say anything but reached down and grabbed your hand, slotting her fingers between yours. You gave her hand a gentle squeeze. It was starting to become abundantly clear why she had kept her distance. Was this going to happen to anyone that got close to the Woodsboro gang? Because that was enough to have anyone on edge.

“So what now?” Tara asked.

“Chad and I are going to the hospital with Anika,” Mindy said softly, her eyes hazy.

“Quinn is already being escorted to the police station,” Sam said.

A phone rang.

Everyone’s eyes darted to Tony, who was already digging in his pocket for his phone. He pulled it out and showed you the screen, and you gulped. Oh god, this was so bad. You couldn’t do this again, you were barely holding it together as it was.

“Is it him?” Tara asked.

“Worse,” Tony said as he handed you the phone.

You watched it ring two more times before closing your eyes and answering it. The moment you held it up to your ear, you heard the static on the other end. It didn’t matter how tough you were, you weren’t prepared. Hell, nothing could have prepared you for it.

“Hey, Ma,” you said in the sweetest voice you could muster.

“If the two ‘a youse don’t get your sorry asses over here in the next 20 minutes, I’m chainin’ your ankles and throwin’ ya in the Hudson.”

“Just calm down-”

“-don’t you dare tell me to calm down, you don’t even call me to tell me about this bastard?”

You sighed. “No I don’t because you start actin’ like a wise guy!”

“Get your asses over here, Y/N.”

“Ma-”

“-Now.”

You exhaled through your nose and looked over at Tony. He mouthed a “sorry” before he shrugged. Lot of good he was. Sam and Tara were still looking at you with a mix of concern and… were they laughing?

“Can we bring two visitors?” You finally asked.

There was a bit of silence.

“Only if you follow the rules.”

“We will,” you said.

“Then yes.” A beat of silence. “And hurry.”

“Yes ma’am,” you said. “We’ll see you soon-”

-the call hung up and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Well, that went well. On the other hand, you had been on the receiving end of worse calls from your Ma. This honestly wasn’t all that bad, at least she didn’t curse your bloodline. Well, not that time.

“You threw me under the bus,” you mumbled as you handed the phone back to Tony.

“I ain’t puttin’ up with her rage,” he said even as he slid the phone back into his back pocket.

“What’s going on?” Sam asked.

“We’re goin’ somewhere safe,” you said. “Well. Safe for you.”

“She’s gonna kill ya,” Tony mumbled.

“Shut up, I know,” you mumbled back as you placed your hand on Tara’s lower back and started guiding her down the streets.

“Shouldn’t you make sure the police don’t need anything?” Tara asked, looking back at your crime-scene of an apartment building.

“Absolutely not,” you said, “they let this happen, they can do it on their own.”

You all bid goodbye to Chad and Mindy before everyone went silent as you and Tony led them through the streets of New York. It was late, the lights were blinding, and the grating sounds of sirens faded into the usual chaos. There was something comforting about it; you didn’t think you’d ever be able to live somewhere that was quiet. How Tara had managed to live in Woodsboro forever was beyond you.

But that didn’t mean you weren’t keeping an eye out for suspicious characters. Namely a certain motherfucker who had quickly moved to the top of your shit list. Oh if he just gave you the chance, you were going to make him pay. No way on God’s green earth were you going to let him get away with any of this bullshit.

“Where exactly are we going?” Sam asked when you took them into an unassuming bakery in the Bronx.

“Can’t tell you,” Tony said.

You made sure to wave at Chris when you walked by the counter and guided everyone through a back door. It was a bit suspicious, you wouldn’t lie. Come to think of it, you didn’t think your family had invited anyone over since… well, since Dicky had brought Carol over a few years ago, actually. Oh man, maybe you all needed to reconsider your rules.

“It’s not as sketchy as it seems,” you said when you turned to look at them. “But I need you both to close your eyes.”

“Excuse me?” Tara asked.

“I said it’s not as sketchy as it seems,” you huffed.

“I’m not letting you lead us into some back room,” Sam said with crossed arms.

“If you don’t close your eyes, I can’t take you in,” you said. “It’s family rules.”

“Really?” Tara asked.

“Yes,” you said with a nod. They both looked at you in silence. “I know how it sounds.”

“If we close our eyes will you quit floundering?” Tara asked. “You’re going to catch flies.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled. “Please just follow the rules, I’m tired of just standing here like a psycho.”

Sam and Tara shared a look, opposite of the one you shared with Tony. You both knew it was a bit sketchy, you knew. But when Ma and Pop made the rules, they made the rules. How were you supposed to argue? You weren’t, that’s how. Besides, if Ma and Pop found out you were breaking the rules they would have your heads.

“Fine,” Sam said with a sigh before closing her eyes. Tara quickly followed suit.

Both you and Tony shared a sigh before guiding the two girls through the back door. You each held on to them to make sure they didn’t trip over something as you took them down through a cellar and into one of the underground tunnels. Most people didn’t know about the tunnels under New York City, but your family had memorised them as if your lives depended on it.

Which, sometimes they did.

You took them through a dizzying amount of turns until you got to the door that led up to your house. If the family was smart, they would’ve locked it. And unfortunately for you, it was locked. Damn, you had hoped they would’ve lost their mind for a few seconds, you weren’t in the mood to dig around for the new location of the spare key.

The tip of your ear started to throb when you bent down to look for the key under the crate of bootleg whiskey.

“Found you,” you mumbled to yourself when your fingers brushed against the ridiculously oversized skeleton key.

“Can we open our eyes now?” Tara asked.

“No,” you said without hesitation. “We gotta get you inside first.”

“This is how people die in horror movies,” she continued while you shoved the skeleton key into the similarly oversized keyhole. “You know that, right?”

“Yes, Tara, I know that,” you bit back, finally pushing the door open. “Now come on.”

You held Tara’s hand tightly as you helped her up the stairs to your house. Well, it was your parents’ house, but that didn’t really matter. Only once you and Tony had brought both girls up to the living room did you finally pull them to a stop. The blood rushed in your ears. You hadn’t ever brought anyone home.

“Okay, you can open ‘em,” Tony said before you found your voice again.

Both girls opened their eyes slowly; you almost wanted to laugh at how wide they got when they looked around. Sure, maybe the brownstone was a bit extravagant. All the exploits of the past were on display; trophies, if you would. From the old paintings, to old newspaper clippings of heists, to the Tommy gun your great grandfather had owned before he passed down the mantle. You supposed it was a bit of a shock to the average person.

“Are you…” Sam trailed off before looking back at you. “Are you-”

“-yeah,” you said with a nod. “We’re Italian.”

“Y/N Vitale, you be nice to those girls.”

“Oh shit,” Tony said as the four of you turned around quickly.

Your eyes went wide - much like Sam’s and Tara’s - when you saw your Ma walking towards you with violence in her step. Oh, you were in trouble. You were in deep shit and no one was going to be able to save you. Maybe you should’ve just taken your chances with Ghostface; he scared you less than your mother.

“Hey Ma-”

-you were cut off by her harshly gripping your jaw and pulling you down until you were eye level with her. She twisted your head and looked at the injured ear you were sporting. Everyone flinched when your neck popped. What was one more injury in the long list of injuries you were starting to get?

She turned your head again until you could look her in the eyes. As much as you feared your Ma - respectfully, of course - you knew concern when you saw it. It never came off the way normal people did, but you knew it. It was in the crinkles around her eyes as they checked every inch of your skin.

“Are you ladies hurt?” Ma asked as she let go of your face. You rubbed your jaw as you straightened back up.

“No- um, no ma’am,” Sam stammered.

“We’re okay,” Tara followed.

“Good,” Ma said, turning to look at them and putting on her motherly smile that you certainly never got to see. “Then welcome home.”

“How come they get a welcome and I get a once-over?” You asked.

“Because they stayed safe and responsible and you didn’t,” Ma shot back. Tara snickered while Sam turned her head to hide a smile.

“As if that’s my fault,” you grumbled.

“And what did I say about tracking blood into my house?” Ma asked, raising her brows at you.

“I didn’t!” You argued. “But I’m sorry, they don’t let you grab clean clothes out of an active crime scene, Ma.”

“I’m talkin’ about your feet,” she said with a gesture down.

All five of you looked down at your feet, and you flinched when you saw the tracks you had left in the house. Adrenaline was one hell of a drug, you hadn’t even noticed you hadn’t grabbed shoes. But as you lifted one of your feet and checked the bottom, all the pain you had ignored came rushing to the surface.

Glass, dirt, and who knew what else was embedded in the skin. When you looked back, it seemed you had been leaving bloody footprints for who knew how long. Part of you figured you hadn’t tracked them through the Bronx, but you had most definitely tracked them through the tunnel. Damn. Pop was going to make you clean it all up.

“I put some spare clothes in the bathroom,” Ma said. “So get your raggedy ass upstairs and clean up before dinner.”

“Yes ma’am,” you muttered as your shoulders fell.

You ignored Tara’s barely-concealed laughter as you pushed past her to head upstairs to your bathroom. Well, you supposed technically it wasn’t your bathroom anymore, it was Ma’s, but she could suck your dick. The nerve of that woman, to call you raggedy. You were the perfect gentleman, it wasn’t your fault some psycho had decided to target you.

Just as Ma had said, she had left a folded set of clothes on the bathroom counter for you. It looked a little too formal if you were being honest, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. And you certainly couldn’t afford to be a chooser. Ma would have your head if she found out you had even thought about different clothes.

The stitches of your ever increasing wounds pulled tight, leaving a throbbing sensation around the jagged skin. Aunt Sherry had done a wonderful job, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. In the end, you grabbed a pair of hair scissors and just cut your shirt off. It was old, torn, and blood soaked; you could get a new one.

You couldn’t take your eyes off the shirt as you managed to wriggle out of your sweats. Not all of that blood had been yours. Some of it had been Mindy’s, and a lot of it had been Anika’s.  Your friends’ blood was soaked into your shirt. Each breath you took felt laboured as you wallowed in the thought that the very thing that kept your friends alive was staining your shirt.

With a shake of your head, you put the thoughts aside. This wasn’t new, you had seen blood before, you were fine. One step at a time. Finish getting out of your clothes, start the shower, wash your feet. And the rest of the dried blood that was becoming itchy. Oh, Ma was gonna kill you for dirtying up her shower.

The water was steaming by the time you finally stepped in. You let out a hiss when it hit your skin, creating more than just a throb in your wounds. It stung, bad. But surely it would clean you right up, right? Sanitisation, yeah, that’s what it would be. You get clean and fight infection; two birds, one stone.

By the time you were down to your feet, you were sitting on the edge of the tub while the water fell on your back. Your hair dripped into your eyes and you were constantly trying to push it back so you could see. The pair of tweezers in your hands was slick from water and you just needed to get a few more pieces of glass out so you could finish up.

You weren’t looking at the door when you heard it open.

“I told your sorry ass I’d be out in a minute, this is delicate work,” you called out.

A small hand appeared in front of your face and, without lifting your head, you looked up to see Tara standing in front of you. She, too, had been given a spare set of clothing that looked a little too big. Whose shirt was she wearing anyway? Her hand never moved until you sighed and placed the tweezers on her palm.

“You’re shit at this,” she said as she knelt down and started looking for the few remaining pieces of glass.

“Don’t have to be good, just have to be effici- ouch.” She swatted your hand away when you went to stop her from hurting you again. “You’re so rough,” you grumbled.

“Don’t have to be gentle,” she said as she looked up at you, “just have to be efficient.”

“You’re so mean,” you whispered even as you shifted your position to ease a certain… uncomfortable feeling.

Maybe you liked when she was mean. Maybe you liked it a little too much. Oh god, your family was going to see how whipped you were for a girl you hadn’t even properly been on a date with. Bringing Tara to the house maybe wasn’t such a smart idea on your part.

“Do you have gauze?” She asked, setting the tweezers down in the sink so more blood than necessary wouldn’t get on the floor.

“Underneath the sink,” you said with a gesture of your head. “Got a whole first aid kit.”

You watched her as she got up and checked under the sink. It only took a moment, it was a giant metal kit, no one could miss it. In fact, when she brought it out it was almost bigger than she was. You bit the inside of your cheek so you wouldn’t laugh at her. If your body wasn’t at her mercy, you wouldn’t have been so polite.

She quickly dug around and got to work finding everything she needed before getting started. Her hands moved expertly as she started cleaning and bandaging your feet. If you hadn’t known any better, you would’ve guessed she had been a nurse in a past life. Unfortunately you did know better, and the scar on her hand just reminded you of how she knew so much.

“I never said thank you,” she said after she finished wrapping your left foot.

“For what?” You asked as you leaned back to turn the water off; you weren’t going to need it anymore.

“For saving Mindy and Anika,” she continued.

She wasn’t looking up at you. Quite the contrary, it was almost like she was avoiding your eyes. Why would she thank you for such a thing? It wasn’t like you were going to leave them behind to die. You weren’t always the sharpest tool in the shed - Ma made sure to remind you of that every now and then - but you weren’t that selfish.

“You don’t gotta thank me for that,” you said softly.

“I just did,” she said as she finished wrapping your right foot. “You’re done.”

You placed your feet on the ground and stood up slowly, easing your feet back into holding your weight. It hurt, ached even, but at least they were clean. How you hadn’t noticed the injuries before Ma, you had no idea. But quite frankly, Tara did a phenomenal job of wrapping them securely. 

“Hurry up and get dressed,” Tara ordered, and you looked up just in time to catch the towel she had thrown in your direction. “Your mom is torturing Sam by giving her a lecture on street safety.”

“You should’ve listened to it too,” you said, but you quickly started drying off. “You hippies can’t handle these streets.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” you said through gritted teeth as you pulled your pants up. It hurt your feet to be moving on them so much. “Notice your bunch weren’t even here for a few months before getting attacked.”

“And you know so much about street safety?” Tara asked. “The one who got shot at a protest?”

You hesitated. “Yeah, I do.”

You were facing the mirror as you started buttoning up your shirt, and you could see Tara staring at you with furrowed brows. Maybe you should’ve just kept your big trap shut. It wasn’t exactly the greatest time to be getting into backstory now, was it? No, it most certainly wasn’t.

“You didn’t get shot at a protest,” she said slowly. “Did you?”

You turned around as you finished tucking your shirt into your pants. “Sorry, doll,” you said with a smile, “only girlfriends get to know that information.” With a wink, you gently pushed past her and exited the bathroom.

“Oh you dick,” you heard her say even as she followed after you.

You waited at the bottom of the stairs before placing your hand on her lower back and guiding her through the brownstone to the dining room. Everyone’s obscenely loud voices reverberated off the brick walls. Seemed the whole family was invited for dinner. A little unusual considering it was a Thursday night, but given the circumstances it could be forgiven.

A wide variety of “hello”s deafened you when you and Tara walked into the dining room. Everyone was dressed well - the same dress shirt and pants as you, which was typical - and they had pulled out a few extra seats for Sam and Tara. Gale was sitting beside your Pop; she gave you a smile and a small wave, which you returned.

“Oy, Street Rat,” Mitch called, “be a good pup and show your girl to her seat.”

“Shut up,” you shot back, but nonetheless led Tara to one of the two empty seats next to each other.

Out of pure mercy, you let her sit between you and Sam so she wasn’t having to deal with any of the other family members. The others heckled you when you helped push her seat in. You could feel your cheeks heating up while you grumbled and plopped down in your own seat, refusing to look up at any of them.

“Quiet,” Pop said, and the room immediately fell silent. “Who’s gonna say grace?”

“Can’t be me,” Joel said with a shrug. “He clearly don’t listen cause Y/N is still here.”

“You really wanna be a wise guy tonight?” You asked. “Cause I still got a lot of pent up anger.”

“Enough,” Ma said quietly, but you all listened. “I’ll say grace.”

"Yes, Ma," everyone said in unison.

"Bow your heads," she said, and everyone slowly did as instructed.

You cheated a little bit. While Ma was saying grace, blessing the food and yours and the Carpenters' lives, you looked at Tara out of the corner of your eye. If you looked a little harder you almost thought you could see a flush on her cheeks. For what, you had no idea, but you made the split decision to reach over and take her hand.

She linked her fingers with yours right before Ma finished.

"Amen," each person said before all normal talk resumed.

You helped Tara and Sam get their food, making sure everyone behaved. They did, they all knew the family rules, but the Carpenters didn't and you knew the lot of you could be… a little chaotic. Eight kids, two parents, sometimes the spouses and nieces and nephews. Lucky for the girls, it was only the immediate family.

"Oy, show me the ear," Dicky said right as you tried to start eating.

"So you can point and laugh?" You asked. "No way."

"I just wanna see," he said.

"I got it," Alfie said around a mouthful of food.

The look on Tara's and Sam's faces was comical when Alfie reached across the table, gripped your jaw, and turned your head. You did your best to smile at the two of them to let them know it was normal, but they didn't seem to believe you. If anything, it almost made Tara look a little frustrated. Maybe even angry.

"That's it?" Dicky asked when you snapped at Alfie and he let you go. "All that hubbub for that?"

"What do you mean?" You asked. "I got a notch outta my ear, I was gonna get that part pierced."

"All he's sayin' is you took on Ghostface twice, and that's what you walk away with?" Joel butted in. "Pass the salt, wouldya?"

"It's more than you ever walked away with," Martha defended you. "Don't listen to a word he says."

"The two 'a youse walk away with any cool scars?" Mitch asked, turning to look at Sam and Tara.

You could see them squirm in their seats.

"Watch it-"

"-fuck off-"

"-none of your business." Martha, you, and Mercy all said at the same time.

You felt Tara squeeze your hand once.

“Hey Street Rat, you down to make a run for me?” Dicky asked.

You didn’t bother swallowing before you answered. “I’m kinda in the middle of somethin’ this week.”

“I didn’t mean this second, jackass.”

You glared at him and swiped your tongue over your bottom teeth. “Sure,” you finally said with a shrug, “just give me a week and I’ll be back in action.”

"So," Sam started, wiping her mouth off on the napkin before looking around the table. “What do you all do for a living?”

“Accounting,” every single one of you said at the same time. Pop squeezed the bridge of his eyes as you all looked at each other sheepishly.

“All of you?” Sam asked.

“Mercy’s a doctor,” Tony chimed in.

“Accounting’s a family business,” Dicky said with a gentle nod.

“Right,” Sam said with her own nod and a polite smile. Something told you she didn’t exactly believe him.

Conversation continued as normal, with everyone talking over each other. Thankfully, they all started asking Sam and Tara normal questions, and you could visibly see them start to relax. You wondered when the last time was that they had a family dinner. Not including Chad and Mindy; they were family, but they weren’t family. There was a bit of a difference.

“Ladies,” Pop said once Ma had brought out the cannoli. Everyone froze, only their eyes moving between him and the Carpenters. “It’s been a pleasure to have you, but there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

The girls stiffened in their seats, and Tara squeezed your hand again. You tried to give Pop a look that said to calm down, but he wasn’t even looking at you. His eyes were trained on Sam and Tara, and you couldn’t blame him. Hell, you didn’t know when non-family had been over last. Hopefully he was going to behave.

“You might not understand the gravity of this statement, but Vitale blood has been spilled for you two,” he said as he leaned back in his chair, his hands folded in front of him on the table.

“Oh brother,” you whispered.

Tara looked at you and you shook your head lightly and rolled your eyes. This was going to be ridiculous.

“One of us,” everyone looked at you, “felt you were worth dyin’ for.” You sighed. “We don’t take that lightly.”

“We greatly appreciate it-”

“-we have a family rule,” he interrupted Sam. “If one of us voluntarily spills blood for someone, we all follow suit.” He leaned forward on the table and waited until both Sam and Tara were looking him in the eye. “We’ll put that Ghostface character at the bottom of the Hudson.”

“Tone it down a smidge,” you whispered and gestured down with your hand.

Pop opened his mouth and closed it once. “We’ll, uh, protect you with our lives.” You gestured again. “Welcome… to the family?”

“Better,” you whispered with a scrunch of your nose that was followed by a gentle smile.

“We really do appreciate it,” Tara said.

“It’s nice to know we have, um,” Sam inhaled deeply and looked around, “Italians on our side.”

“Atta girl,” Mercy said.

“You catch on quick,” Martha agreed.

Dinner finished soon after, and everyone went about collecting the dishes and cleaning. Martha, in all her pregnant glory, kept Sam and Tara at the table, talking their ears off. At one point, you took the still-full coffee cups from in front of them and heard her talking about… something. You weren’t entirely sure, you just knew the word “family” was being thrown around a lot.

Tara looked at you and mouthed “help me.” You just smiled, shook your head, and mouthed “no” in return. The glare she gave you… it was no question she and Sam were related, they both had killer eyes. Tara’s were particularly beautiful at that moment though, did she know that? They almost reminded you of a warm hazelnut-

“-You’d best keep movin’,” Martha said. She was watching you with a ridiculous smirk. “She’s got a look that could kill.”

“Would you like some tiramisu?” You asked. Tara’s eyes softened, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“Yes please,” she said.

“I’ll go get it.”

“You’re whipped!” Dicky called from the kitchen before you could even stand up straight.

“Give it a few days, Dick,” Joel said as he leaned on the doorframe. “Tara’ll have ‘em on a leash.”

“Shut up,” you shot back as you pushed past them to get into the kitchen. “It’s called bein’ polite.” You carefully plated the tiramisu. “Somethin’ you clearly know nothin’ about.”

“Seems our little Street Rat’s turnin’ into a Guard Dog,” Mitch chimed in, seemingly coming out of nowhere. Your family really came out of the woodworks, they did.

“Next time Ghostface calls, I’m givin’ him your address,” you said as you walked back into the dining room and placed the plate down in front of Tara. And Sam, you had made her a plate too.

Maybe you were whipped.

“Do it,” Dicky said. “Matter ‘a fact, give him my phone number too, he and I need to have a talk.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t tolerate that shit on my turf.”

“That’s enough,” Pop said, and everyone quickly shut up. “Go home, the lot of ya.” He looked down at Sam and Tara. “We’ve got beds made up for the both of you.”

“Thank you,” they both said with polite smiles.

“Gale stayin’ tonight too?” You asked.

And just like that, she came in at the mention of her name. Speak of the devil.

“Yes I am,” she said with a smile. “I have something I want to show you three tomorrow when it’s day time.”

“What did you find?” Tara asked quickly.

“We’ll have more time tomorrow,” Gale answered. You watched as Tara slumped back in her seat in defeat.

Everyone finished cleaning up their stuff and started leaving the brownstone. You could see the gears turning in Tara’s head when they all left through the front door, but you shook your head at her. It wasn’t something she needed to know at the moment. It was late, dark, and everyone just needed to get some sleep. If she really wanted to know more later, you would tell her.

Probably.

“She gonna have you in a muzzle next time I see you?” Joel asked as he blocked the doorway.

“Keep movin’,” Tony said as he pushed Joel out. “Call me if ya need somethin’,” he said to you with a smile.

“You got it,” you answered. “Now get out, I’m exhausted.”

Mercy gave you a kiss on the cheek and Martha gave Sam and Tara hugs, but then everyone was gone. You were left with the Carpenters, Gale, and your parents. It was… disturbingly quiet, if you were being honest. You almost missed the chaos of having everyone over. Well, you would see them all at Mass, it would be fine.

“All of you get upstairs and get to bed,” Ma said with a gentle nod of her head. “It’s late and I know you all must be tired.”

“Come on, Sam,” Gale said with a gesture, “I’ll show you to your room.”

“Good night,” Sam said with a polite smile and wave. A chorus of “good nights” followed her as she similarly followed Gale upstairs.

“Tara sweetie, you can sleep in Y/N’s bed,” Ma said before looking at you. “I made you a pallet on your floor.”

“Thanks, Ma,” you said, leaning in to leave a kiss on her cheek. “Good night, you two.” You leaned over to give Pop a kiss on the cheek as well.

“Good night,” Tara said with her own small wave.

You placed your hand on Tara’s lower back as you gently pushed her in front of you up the stairs. Unfortunately for you, your room was right beside the two guest rooms that everyone else was staying in. Not that you necessarily had anything planned, but even if you did, you wouldn’t dare risk Sam or Gale hearing you.

Sometimes life was rather cruel.

“She left you some pyjamas on the bed,” you said once you showed Tara into your room. “Bathroom is down the hall, we’ve got spare toothbrushes in the top left drawer.”

“Thanks,” Tara said softly.

You watched as she grabbed the pyjamas and promptly exited the room, leaving you alone for the first time since your shower. And now that you were alone, you could feel all the wear and tear of the past two days weighing heavy on you. Anika was still in the hospital. Was she even alive? Surely she was, someone would have let you know, right? Or they at least would have let Sam or Tara know.

And what about Quinn? She would be safe at the police station, you knew that much. They didn’t care for anyone else in the city, but they did care for their own. There was no way in hell they would let anything happen to a Detective’s daughter, especially when that daughter was Quinn. No, Quinn was safe.

Chad and Mindy were safe at the hospital with Anika. There was no doubt about it. Your family had people up there, and Pop had already said he told them to stay close and keep their eyes out. They would die before they let anything happen to those three, so they were actually safer than any of you.

When Tara came back into the room, looking mighty adorable in the oversized t-shirt and sleep pants, you gave her a smile and made your own way to the bathroom. You needed to get out of those clothes pronto before you lost your goddamn mind. The clothes were comfortable, but you were starting to feel constricted.

You left your toothbrush hanging out of the side of your mouth as you unbuttoned the shirt. Each inch lower revealed still-forming bruises and the few bouts of stitches. With a grimace, you finally let the shirt fall to the floor. You didn’t mind scars, really you didn’t, but you hadn’t wanted to get them this way.

Maybe that’s how Tara feels too, you thought with a frown as you finished brushing your teeth and cleaning up. You hadn’t entirely planned for it, but you had known it was a possibility. But Tara? She hadn’t had any idea. And it had all been done by her girlfriend’s hand. What kind of havoc did that wreak on a person’s mind?

You were still thinking about Tara and Amber when you walked back into your room. Tara was already on the bed, her back to you. The door closed with a soft *click* and you turned the light off before plodding over to the pallet. There was an art to pallet making, and your family had perfected it. But as you laid down on the floor and tried to pull the blanket up to your chin, your injuries started to throb and sting.

It wasn’t going to be the floor that kept you awake all night.

There was no way you could lay on your right side, you had that cut on your hip and your right ear was missing a piece. But you couldn’t lay on your left side either because you had that cut on your bicep. Maybe if you tried to lay on your front- nope, not that either. If you had to sleep sitting up, so help you god, you were going to snap-

-something shuffled on your bed, and you quickly stilled yourself. Shit, you hadn’t meant to wake Tara. You were practically holding your breath as the shuffling continued, but then you heard the creak of the bed and someone walking across the room. It was dark, but you didn’t have to use anything more than common sense to know it was Tara who was lifting your blanket and crawling into the pallet with you.

“Not a word,” she said softly as she carefully wrapped an arm around your waist and rested her head on your shoulder.

It hurt. You would rather die than tell her that. Instead, you just pulled her closer and tried not to shift when her fingers rubbed the skin on your hip. It was obsessive, incessant, and it was almost becoming uncomfortable. But you weren’t going to tell her to stop, not when something was clearly on her mind.

“I’m sorry you got dragged into all of this,” Tara said softly.

“I’ve been dragged into worse situations,” you said flippantly. “And never by a pretty girl.”

“Don’t get yourself killed,” she said, almost as if she hadn’t heard what you had just said.

“I don’t plan on it, sweetheart,” you chuckled.

Her hand left your hip and you felt her grab your chin and turn your head. You couldn’t really see her, not properly at least, but you knew she was looking at you. Studying you for something; you wouldn’t pretend to know what. It strained your neck, but you kept your mouth shut.

You felt her pull your face down until her lips were on yours. Soft but firm. It wasn’t a kiss that was going to lead anywhere, she wasn’t trying to move any further. But judging by the way her bottom lip quivered, you knew it was important. You held her tighter to you until she pulled back and let go of your jaw, resting her head back on your shoulder.

“That didn’t mean anything,” Tara said softly.

“I know,” you said with a nod of your head that no one could see.

You both knew she was lying; you still fell asleep easily.

[tomshelbystitsfics]

Untitled Fic.

Eventual!Carmen x Reader

(this is just the beginning for the fic. its storyline/plot building. also the reader is midsize. not skinny but not plus. in the middle)

(im posting this its the beginning to a fic im writing & i just wanted to post this lil excerpt. hoping to get some feedback & see what people think! please, let it rip:)

Home. Home? What did that word mean to you? It was a noisy, dirty, yet charming city. An old house, at least sixty years old. Paint now peeling, gutters full of old leaves and shit. Home, a minute's walk across the road. Inside a warm dish of delicious food awaits. Michael hands you that first plate. There it was, the moment of truth. Determining if you were friend or foe. Not really though, just testing to see if you were a narc. (Later you would argue with Mikey that his logic made no sense whatsoever.)

You found a home in the dysfunctional, crazy ass Berzatto family. They quickly accepted you as one of their own. Having been Carmy’s best (and only) friend. Always so polite and sweet. Until Mikey or Richie pissed you off. They were always picking on you and Carmy. And sometimes they pushed hard enough to set you off. That is exactly why you’re all in this situation now.

“Fucking A. You ain’t gotta hit me that hard asshole! Seriously, it was just a fucking joke man! Lighten the FUCK UP!” Richie yelled. You sat across the island from him. Mikey was digging through the freezer. He was trying to find something to ice Richie’s face. You had given the bastard a black eye and a bloody fucking nose. Mikey was more than impressed. So was Richie, but he wouldn’t be telling you that any fucking time soon.

“I’m sorry Rick,” he scowled as you called him that. “I tried to warn ya that you went too far, but no, you just had to go there.” He just stared at you, deadpan. You sucked in a breath, cheeks puffed out. Head in your hands you let out the breath. Standing up and making your way in front of the man. A hand extended out, an olive branch.

Scoffing he smacked the hand away. Your chest tightened, Richie was basically your older brother. His rejection hurt, a fucking lot in fact. Not wanting him to see the tears starting to well up, you start to turn away. That is when you feel it. Two long, solid arms wrap around you. Twisting around, you rest your chin on his shoulder and grasp the back of his old ass hoodie tight. Fingers clenching the fabric.

“It’s all good Doll. I still love ya. Even if you broke my goddamn nose.” Richie held you, then after a beat, “I mean shit. My cheekbone feels like a grown man split it, kid.” The tender moment was over for now. Richie is trying to make a joke out of it. You smirk, shoving him by the shoulders into his previous seat.

“ ‘S what ya get asswipe! Quit fucking with her when she says. It’s called ‘boundaries’ cousin? Ever heard of the concept?” Mikey slapped a steak on his eye. The other man groaned.

“FUCK SAKES MIKEY! Please, could ya be a little more considerate or some shit? I already got rocked. Don’t need a worse fucking bruise.” Mumbling as he pushed Mikey’s hand away, holding the slab of meat.

“I am not eating that shit later Mikey, no fucking shot.” Giggling, you give the man a kiss on the cheek. “What’s for dinner anyways?” The dark haired man seemed to think for a moment, then said something similar to what landed Richie his shiner and fucked nose.

“Ask Carmy, I’m sure he has a few ideas for what he wants.” Wagging his eyebrows at you. The smirk was audible. Mikey seemed to be proud of himself for the quip.

“Y-You…motherfucker.. I swear I’ll end you, Berzatto. YOU BITCH, C’MERE.” You took off around the island to where he stood in front of the kitchen sink. Richie was screaming and crawling up onto the counter, “ You two fucks better watch out for me. My shit’s busted enough. Get the fuck outta here!”

The memories of Mikey and the family keep swirling through your head as you stand in front of the funeral home. It had been a year since you physically saw any of the Berzatto clan. Too many years since seeing your best friend. Carmen Anthony Berzatto. A name you desperately wanted to forget. The name felt hollow to say, a distant memory. A smoke show that never existed except only in the dark recesses of your mind. Brought up when you wish to torture yourself even more than usual.

Drinking in the cold Chicago air, you begin the trek up the stairs. One measly step at a time. Hoping to calm your racing heart. It felt like the organ was lodged in your throat, bound to come up in a grisly mess at any second. The walk into the foreboding building felt like it took light years and seconds all at once. Standing before the doors, hand hovering over the knob. Psyching yourself up you finally grasp the knob and starting to pull and-

“Fucking Christ! This is fucking insane.” A familiar voice barks out. The door was quickly and haphazardly thrown open. PANG! Jumping back it only caught your arm a bit. The pain was nice and a needed distraction.

“Oh shit, I am so sorry, I-I didn’t realize anyone…” a small gasp of surprise and a tearful chuckle. Then a slow shaky intake of air, “Doll, is-is that you? Or am I just fucking nuts?” Desperation paints his tone. His words crack and waver with emotion, no, sadness and grief. And a bit of hope.

“Hey cousin, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Your voice was thick with the tears ready to be shed. Before you know you’re shoved into his warm chest. All you smell is stale cigarettes, and his woodsy, Ed Hardy cologne. The aroma of smoke, along with bergamot and amber soothes you. There was a time you despised this fucking scent. It was always too strong and pungent. Telling Richie he smelt like a hooker, wanting to piss him off.

“At least one of us is shaking ass and making some cash Doll.” SMACK! Richie shook his hips at you.

“You made it inside yet? ‘Course not, fuck. I-I’m sorry Doll, my brain is fucking lost. I-I don’t have a goddamn clue about what’s going on.” Apologizing and rubbing his nose roughly.

“Can’t lose something you never had Rick.” You smirk, jabbing him in his ribs.

“Hardy har. You got fucking jokes, eh? Nice, real nice…Shit.” Richie let out a loud sigh and looked at his feet, “Don’t call me fucking Rick man. Shit wasn’t cool when you were a kid, sure as shit ain’t cool now pip squeak.” He smacked you lightly on the back of your head. Reaching into his coat he grabs a cigarette, and swings the pack towards you. You quit smoking, a year ago. But, fuck it.

It is a funeral after all. Might as well take the edge off somehow. Being sober was fucking awful at times. You both finished the cigarettes in silence. After stubbing the cherry out, you gestured to the door.

“Think we should, uh, ya know?”

Richie swallowed his nerves and gave a single nod. The man had a hold of the handle before you could even think about it. Walking into one of the absolute worst possible moments of your entire fucking life.

[ghostmoon1]

Dusted Rivalries - Chapter Five

Chapter Four | Master List | Chapter Six

Call of Duty Fic - Task Force 141 - Cowboy AU

Summary: You find a dog show being held locally in the newspaper, with a prize that can surely save the farm! But Simon is opposed to the idea...

Paring: You'll find out soon :3

Words: 2,072

Warnings: Swearing and arguments, mentions of smoking, Johnny being a flirt

A/N: RAHH I love this chapter quite a lot guys :3 I can't wait to move my focus back fully onto this fic, Comfy-Vember is a very nice break but I've been watching Yellowstone and now I'm getting more ideas for this. And a reminder, TAG LIST IS OPEN AND ALWAYS IS!!

Golden liquid you call it. Warm tea, warming up your insides on a cold morning. Sighing as the cool mug touches your lips, letting the liquid pool in your mouth for a moment to savour the sweet taste, then letting the warmth spread down your throat, feeling it warm you up like the sun. Pure heaven.

Until it was ruined by a thump on the dining table behind you.

Big bastard

You twirl around to see Simon throwing the newspaper on the table and slumping down in a seat, grumbling to himself as he takes out his phone. 

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed” you mutter, more to yourself but he obviously heard.

“Shut it,”

You roll your eyes and grab the newspaper, sitting your tea on the table as you flick through the pages. “Hm… Dog show? Prize can include… oh my god up to ten grand?! That-”

“No.”

Simon's voice was sharp and cold as he moved across the kitchen to make his own tea. His movements were stiff, and tense. 

“What do you mean no? Ten grand could save the farm, John said-” you begin to argue back, but are quickly cut off by Simon again, slamming his mug down on the table. 

“I said no,” he growls, narrowing his eyes as he studies you, disapproval dripping off his features. You stare back, showing him that he didn't scare you. Well, he did a bit with the way he towered over you, but letting that show would only fuel his disapproval and judgment more.

“Why not?!” you argue, throwing the paper back onto the table and crossing your arms. You meet his gaze, fighting the urge to pull back and not be so stubborn. But if something like this were to work, it could help. He’d be eating his words if you got Dolly into it and won.

“She’s too old for that shit,” he snaps, putting his mug back down on the sink with a bit too much force. 

The words ‘too old’ leaving his mouth made you want to yank his hair and yell at him. “What. So, old dogs can't learn new tricks?” you bite back, anger coursing through you at the idiotic words you were hearing.

“Poor thing would break a leg if she tried doing the shit they do in those!”

“You just don’t believe in her.”

“I don't want our fucking dog getting hurt because of your stupid antics! This isn't even your place to be arguing back with me. If you want to do it get your own fucking dog!” he yells, striding across the room to get closer to your face, trying to get his point across. 

How satisfying it would be to just slap him. Of course you wouldn't, you’d probably be flying across the room within the next second if you tried. You settle on staring at him with a cold expression.

“Do you have any other ideas then? Or are you just gonna do shit nothing” 

“This is our fucking farm, our fucking home. Not yours. This isn't your battle,” he snarls before leaving, striding out of the room with anger radiating off him, it might as well left a sour smell behind. Your eyes stay on him until he’s out of sight, then sigh and bury your face in your hands.

Who knew trying to help would be so hard? He almost felt as stubborn as you, if not more. But what if doing this helped? What if you could save the farm, with the help of Dolly? Surely he’d be grateful after. If he wasn’t well… that's not your problem. Do it for the rest of them, they’d be grateful.

You were quickly snapped out of your thoughts as John stepped into the room, walking past to pick up the newspaper. “What’s happening today, birdie,” he mutters, holding the newspaper out to read.

You huff and rest your chin on your hands so you can look at him. “The front page is talking about a dog show.”

“A dog show eh? Lemme see…” he mutters, glasses placed on his nose as he reads, his eyebrows knitting together as he concentrates. “Ten grand prize? Bloody hell… that could help the farm a lot.”

You nod, lifting your mug to your lips again, frowning as the liquid touches your lips. Bloody gone cold. “Simon doesn’t like the idea…”

“What’s the muppet got against a dog show?” He takes his glasses off and sets the paper down on the table again. He moves around the table to the kitchen counter, beginning to make himself some coffee.

“He thinks Dolly is too old. Has the mindset of ‘old dogs can't learn new tricks’,”

He hums in thought as he brings his freshly made coffee to his lips, the aroma staining the air. “He’s right about that, she’s an old girl. But that doesn’t mean she wouldn't enjoy doing something like that. She’s old, not unable.”

“Yeah, she’s smart, still active as a pup. She’d do well,” you murmur in agreement, aimlessly running a finger over the rim of your mug. You meet John’s gaze for a moment, studying the determination set in his features and the slight furrow in his brow he always carries.

“Think it’s time to teach the old dog some new tricks.”

You were heaving for air, hands placed on your knees to keep yourself upright. Your chest constricting in ways you didn't think were possible. You couldn't help but watch Johnny and laugh to yourself, seeing him running around the makeshift course you made to train Dolly with a treat in his hand to keep her following him.

“Old dogs’ more fit than you!” you tease, laughing as you watch him snap his head around to glare at you. 

“Bloody hell. I haven’t done this shit in a hot minute!” he yells back, almost losing his footing as he guides Dolly up a ramp, who was happily bounding over the course, nipping at the treat in his hand. “You're the one standing there doing nothin’! All outta breath and shit.”

“I ran around with her for an hour before you even got here! About time you're helping.”

He scoffs and pulls his hand back as Dolly tries to nip at the treat again, letting out a high-pitched bark of annoyance at him.

You sit down on one of the hay bales that you had carted up to the paddock behind the house. Setting the course up was hell, but if this all worked out in the end, it’d be worth it. Watching Johnny run around the course with Dolly was a sight you didn't expect to be witnessing today. You let your heart rate calm down, waiting for the thumping to stop ringing in your ears.

Soon enough Johnny retires from running around with Dolly, flopping onto the hay bale next to you, heaving as he tries to catch his breath. You watch as his chest rises and falls as he breathes, his mouth slightly open as he tries to take in as much air as he can. 

“Not as fit as I used to be…” he mutters, placing his hat on his chest and holding it there.

“You're still fit. Better than I am.” 

He lets out a chuckle and rolls his head over, looking over your features. The way your brows knit together as you thought, the sweat dripping down your forehead, the way your lips parted as you took in each breath, the shine of your eyes in the bright sun, the way his face reflected in your eyes.

“You ever get told how pretty you are, lass? Wee bonnie lass…” he mutters, noticing the way your cheeks become pink and warm.

“O-oh thank you,” you stutter, a smile spreading across your lips. He reaches out to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering for longer than they should have, feeling the way your cheeks become warmer under his touch. 

“You love birds done there?”

Your whole body jerks up at the newcomer's voice, your head snapping towards the direction it came from. Kyle stood near the gate, arms crossed over his chest with a singlet top on, his muscular arms in full view. You feel your cheeks become even warmer, your skin burning and turning more red.

“It's not. That. We-” you stutter and stumble over your words. Darn, Johnny for being even the slightest bit handsy at the worst of times.

“Hey, Kyle!” Johnny cheered, his grin wider than ever, ignoring the fact he just had you blushing and stuttering like a schoolgirl.

Kyle laughs and shakes his head, coming to sit on the hay bale with the both of you. “How’s training with Dolly going?”

“She’s like a pup. Gonna put me out of commission soon with how much she's dragging me around,” Johnny mutters, watching as Dolly does a lap of the paddock before jumping on the hay bale with everyone, panting and nudging Kyle's hand as she flops onto the soft hay.

Kyle rubs her ear, watching the way she rolls over and leans into his touch with a grin. “Worn the old girl out.”

“She’ll do well for the dog show. If she can’t win, I doubt any other dog can,” you chime in, joining in with adoring Dolly with love and affection. She lets out a happy whine of contentment, tail hitting the hay as she calms down from her morning of training.

“She’ll win, for sure,” Johnny says, watching her with eyes full of affection and love. Everyone knew she’d do well, their Dolly would win the show for them.

Simon's hands grasped onto the kitchen counter, his knuckles turning white as he looked out of the window onto the paddock where you had set up the makeshift course for Dolly to train on. He didn't want this. He knew Dolly could do it, he had faith in the old girl. But what if she got hurt? He’s seen what they do. What if she breaks a leg, and they can’t fix it? He can’t lose his old girl. She keeps him sane. Yes, so do the boys, but they make him feel insane sometimes too. 

He stared at you, Kyle and Johnny lying on the hay bale with Dolly in the middle, drinking up the affection and love she was receiving from everyone. He’d never admit how scared he was for her. That he could care about anyone, especially a dog this much.

“Don’t let it eat you, Simon,” John’s voice broke the silence of the kitchen, making him release a breath he didn't know he was even holding. His voice was like an anchor, bringing him back to reality, the present time where he was supposed to be.

“What if she gets hurt…” he mutters, his gaze not moving from the window as he unconsciously grips the counter tighter, enough to bruise his fingertips.

“She’ll be okay. The old girl keeps up with us when we go get the cattle in, a little dog show won't hurt her. She’s enjoying it. Look at her, lapping up all the attention,”  John says, joining him in looking out of the window at everyone else. “She looks happy.”

Simon sighs and rubs his face and leans over the counter. “I know… It’s just. She’s my dog, I picked her out as a pup. I can’t help but feel overly protective of her. If she gets hurt I can’t help but feel like it was me. I’m supposed to make sure she's okay and safe.”

John sighs and puts his hand on his shoulder, silently giving him support, trying to keep him grounded instead of floating off into his own mind. 

“I feel like it’s not only Dolly you're worrying about, is it?”

His jaw tenses and he keeps his gaze on the others, his whole body stiffening. “No. Just Dolly,” he grumbles before pushing himself off the counter and walking out of the room. John watches and sighs. There was something more behind it, he knew it. But he couldn't tell what.

With a sigh, John moved to the porch to continue watching you and the boys with Dolly, lighting a cigar before bringing it to his lips and letting the smoke fog his lungs, watching as he breathed the smoke back out and disappeared into the air.

[ Tag List: @sleep101 ]

[patheticdarling]

Consequences

Summary: Reader has been kidnapped by the Greens as payback for the murder of Ser Criston Cole. Now, Aemond, alongside the rest of the Blacks must plot to get her back.

Finale of the Traitors Series

Part I, Part II, Part III Here

Warnings: war acts/cussing/blood/sexual assault (implied & talks of r*pe)/kidnapping/crying/torture & injuries/incest/infertility/moon tea (iykyk)/arranged marriage/mentions of breastfeeding/VERY DARK & ANGSTY

Word Count: 6695 (it's a finale, it has to be long!)

*NOT MY GIF*

Aemond awoke that morning to find his bedside empty, which was not unusual per se. He was quite used to you waking up earlier to go nurse the twins. Though as he dressed for the day, he half-expected you to return, so that you would accompany him to breakfast like normal.

However, the urgent knocking at the door, pulled him from his thoughts, "Enter," he answered as he finished dressing.

"My Prince," the guard bowed quickly, "Her Grace has called an emergency council meeting and requests that you make haste to the Great Hall."

Aemond nodded, "Has my wife been notified as well?"

"I beg your pardon, my Prince, but I cannot be sure," the guard explained, "But Her Majesty sent the Queensguard to gather all members of the royal family."

Aemond gave him another nod before the two made their way to Dragonstone's Great Hall. All the Lords and Ladies stood around the Painted Table, muttering amongst themselves. Aemond tried to push past the uneasiness he felt when the room fell silent upon his entry.

"Your Grace," Aemond bowed to your mother, "Apologies for not accompanying the Princess, I was not sure where-"

"Aemond," her voice a bit hoarse, "Something has happened."

The prince felt his stomach sink further, "Where is Y/N?" he asked with the silent hope that you'd walk in at that very moment.

"There was a message delivered earlier this morning," your mother's shaky voice explained. Maester Gerardys held a piece of parchment, the green Targaryen seal broken, as he began reading it over the table.

"To the False Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen and all of the traitorous members of her Black Council. The Bastard Princess Y/N must answer for her crimes against the Crown. Including the murder of the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Criston Cole. The Princess will be tried and if found guilty, executed on the morrow. Signed, on behalf of His Grace, King Aegon, Second of His Name, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm," the Maester concluded.

Aemond's jaw tensed and his fists balled. Anger seemed to be steaming off of him, like a dragon exuding smoke.

"What is to be done about this?" Luke spoke up.

Jace nearly scoffed at your younger brother's question, "They have our sister. I do not care what means they wish to justify, we will reign fire upon them and-"

"Jacaerys," your mother's tone stern.

Your older brother's jaw tensed, "My apologies, Your Grace. That was out of turn."

Eyes fell to Aemond, one of his hands already gripping the handle of his sword on his hip. His breathing seemed strangely even as he kept his gaze focused on the glowing King's Landing carved into the Painted Table.

"What do we believe to be the best course of action?" your mother addressed her advisors.

Before anyone could move to speak, Aemond turned to leave the Great Hall. That was before various members of the Queensguard took a step into his path.

"I will only say this once, out of my way," the first thing that had left his lips since learning of your kidnapping. All of the knights looked to their Queen for further instruction. Aemond's own head turned slightly.

"Where are you going, Aemond?" she asked.

Your husband turned around slowly, "I'm going to kill our brother."

An almost hushed gasp left the mouths of the Black council, "Aemond, you must know that is foolish," she began to argue, "You'd be slaughtered. And what good will that do Y/N?"

"I do not plan to act alone," his eye fell to your brothers, "The young princes will help me to escort her safely from the city."

Your mother moved to protest, already shaking her head adamantly, "No, they will n-"

"Yes, we will," Jace had already stepped up, joining Aemond's side as Luke trailed behind.

"Jace, Luke, this is far too dangerous," she argued, "You could be killed. All of you. I will not risk my children if I do not have to. Let me send Ser Erryk and the rest-"

"With all due respect, Your Grace, she is our sister," Jace argued.

"It has to be us," Luke finished.

Your mother closed her eyes and let out a heavy sigh, "Fine. I grant you leave. Prince Jacaerys and Prince Lucerys, your sole mission is to stealthly and safely extract the Princess Y/N from the Red Keep. Prince Aemond," she turned to address your husband, his face remained hard, "You are aware of your mission."

"Your Grace," the three young men bowed. The Queensguard stepped aside, allowing your brothers and husband to pass. Jace and Luke taking off to the Dragonmont first after exchanging their goodbyes with your mother.

"Aemond," she stopped your husband, "If you do this, may the Gods have mercy on your soul."

"While I appreciate the sentiment, it is not my soul you should pray for, Your Grace."

But even the mercy of both the old Gods and the new, would not be enough to save Aegon from his younger brother's wrath. Not after Aemond found out what Aegon had been doing.

"Now I can see why Aemond is so taken with you, sweet niece," Aegon snickered as he laced his britches back up, "Most women's bodies never look the same after having a baby."

You lay facing away from him, curled into yourself. The blood ran down your legs, staining the once-pale linen sheets as you let the tears fall across your cheeks.

Aegon knocked back another cup of wine as he finished dressing. He came around to your side of the bed, "Maybe if you're lucky, I'll put another baby in your belly. Wouldn't that be fitting? Bastards for a bastard," he pushed your messed hair from your face as you stared blankly ahead, "Ugh, you know you're dreadfully boring. I liked you better when I was fucking you."

"He's going to kill you," your voice cracked, raw from your screams.

Aegon rushed back over to you, tugging your head back by the nape of your neck, "What did you say?"

"He's going to kill you," you hissed, "Aemond," the letcher tried hard to hide the fear in his eyes, "You think that chair keeps you safe? After he finds out what you've done, there won't be a place in all Seven Kingdoms you can hide from my husband."

"You've never known when to keep your bitch mouth shut," he threw you back onto the bed, "My brother can try to kill me all he likes. It won't undo what's already done, will it?" Aegon cackled drunkenly, "Have the maids change the sheets. I want them fresh for when I return after supper."

And with that, he left you. In a ball of pain, tears, fear, anger, and blood. Locked away. And Aegon was right. Even if Aemond or your mother's council managed to save you, it wouldn't change what Aegon had done to you.

You couldn't be sure how much time had passed when you heard a soft knock on the door, "Y/N?" a soothing voice called for you.

You turned, sitting up from your fetal position on the bed, "Helaena, come in," you sniffled as you pulled on your nearby robe.

She gave you a pitiful smile, a tray of various articles in her hands, "These will help." Helaena made her way over to you, taking a small basin of warm water and a cloth, "May I?"

You nodded as she carefully wiped over the cuts that littered your bruised face and body. She was even more gentle when she wiped the blood from the inside of your calf, offering you the rag before she got higher up.

"Thank you," you muttered as you wiped the remaining dried blood away, wincing slightly.

Helaena extended two warm mugs to you, trading them for the red-stained cloth, "One is milk of the poppy to ease the pain and the other is moon tea to..." her voice trailed off as she rang out the bloodied rag instead.

You drank them both down quickly, handing her back the emptied cups, "I know what it is for. Thank you, Helaena." She set them both down and moved the tray off the bed.

"I am sorry," she spoke as softly as usual, "I hope you know that you do not deserve this, Y/N-"

"And neither do you," you finished.

Helaena avoided your eyes, "He is my husband and their King."

"But not your king?" she stayed silent, "Helaena, it is me, good sister. You may speak freely. You know I'd never betray your trust."

"He is a monster," her voice trembling as she spoke, "Mother said it was my duty to provide him with heirs. I've always wanted children. I tried. But the Gods will not allow it. And I cannot blame them. Why would they allow me to bring a child into this?"

"Oh, Helaena," you took her hands in yours, "I am truly sorry. I know you never desired to be married to Aegon. Had this all been right, you should have married Jacaerys. You might have even been happy. Surely happier than you are now."

"Do you miss your family, Y/N?"

A shaky breath left you, "Very much. I miss my mother and my brothers. I miss my step-sisters. My grandmother. Even Daemon," you laughed a bit before the sobs caught in your throat, "I miss my children. My sweet babies. I know they would love to meet their Aunt Helaena."

She smiled sweetly through her tears, "And Aemond?"

You nodded, sniffling as your own tears fell, "Yes. I miss Aemond. I miss them all. So very much."

Before the two of you could properly find comfort in one another's vulnerability, the chamber doors swung open. The Dowager Queen entered along with Ser Otto Hightower and Ser Arryk Cargyll.

Queen Alicent confused as to why her own daughter was with you, "My Queen," they all bowed to Helaena, "What are you doing with the prisoner?"

"Y/N should not be our prisoner. She is my sister. She is Aemond's wife, the mother of his children-"

"She murdered the Lord Commander, Your Grace," The Hand cut in, "And as for your younger brother, he will be dealt with when the time comes. Now, come along, my Queen. The accused must ready themselves for their trial on the morrow."

Helaena looked to you, apology and pity on her face, "It's alright, Your Grace. Thank you for your help."

"Good night, Princess," she curtsied, "The sapphire will shatter the ruby." It was never unusual for Helaena to give such cryptic messages and yet, you still only understood them once it was too late.

"Ser Arryk, escort Queen Helaena back to her chambers," the Dowager Queen instructed, "I need a moment alone with the Princess Y/N."

Ser Arryk heeded Alicent's commands and led Helaena from the room. Ser Otto exchanged a glance with his daughter before following the young Queen and knight. The door shut behind him as Alicent lingered about the room.

"I remember the last time the two of us were in this room, Princess," she spoke.

You refused to look at her, staring out of the windows at Blackwater Bay, "As do I, Your Grace," your hands falling to your stomach, remembering the sweet feeling of when it swelled with you and Aemond's babies.

"I have heard little about what became of my grandchild. I pray they are alive and well."

You tried to bite back the tears at the mention of your children, "Grandchildren," you corrected her, "Twins. A boy and a girl. Both healthy. And silver-haired, I know you tend to worry about things like that, Your Grace."

Alicent let out a small laugh, or possibly a scoff, "Even though we are the ones who carry and bore them, children do seem to have a habit of inheriting their father's features. What are their names?"

"Viserys and Visenya. For my Grandsire and baby sister. They were born on Dragonstone mere days after both their passings."

"Such a sweet sentiment. I hope to meet them someday," she muttered, "Princess, last time we were in this room, I offered you a deal, do you remember?"

This time you outright scoffed, "How could I forget? My life and the lives of my unborn children in exchange for bending the knee to Aegon and betraying my own mother."

"I would not have put it that way. But it does not matter now. Aegon is King and you are here just the same."

"What is your point, Alicent? Unless you merely came to gloat about how you've managed to tear apart our entire family."

"Tomorrow, your life seems to be up for forfeit yet again. So, I come to you with another proposition," your brow raised as she spoke, "The Hand thinks it wise to annul your marriage to Aemond, as he is a traitor to the Crown-"

"As am I, if you've forgotten," you interrupted, "I do not think you will find another lord who would take my hand. And my lack of virtue will definitely not aid in that."

"It is not a lord that we intend and I can assure you that your lack of virtue will not be considered a fault," she answered, your brow furrowed with her pause, "King Aegon."

You wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of it and yet you felt your heart sink at her unwavering demeanor, "You're madder than even I wished to believe."

The Queen Mother cleared her throat, "The King is in need of heirs. You have proven to be fertile enough to provide him with them. You said it yourself, healthy babes with silver hair. And that is exactly what His Grace requires."

You were in utter disbelief, "What of Helaena? You'd have me displace your own daughter."

"It is in keeping with Targaryen customs, is it not? Aegon the Conqueror took both his sisters to wife. Why should my son be any different than his namesake?"

"Your son is no conqueror," you spat, "You and that council of leeches have tried time and time again to break Aemond and me apart. What makes you think this time will be any different?"

"Because this time your life is forfeit, Princess. As is the rest of your family's," she explained, "If you are executed tomorrow, war is inevitable. Hundreds will die, if not thousands. Including your children and Aemond."

"You'd kill your own son and grandchildren? All for a wastrel who never wanted to sit the Iron Throne in the first place."

"I only do what I believe to be in the best interest of the Realm, Princess. Perhaps you could learn a thing or two about that, especially if you are to serve as Queen."

"You are not only mad but completely foolish if you think forcing me to marry Aegon will do anything good for the Realm. My mother, my husband, they'd never let it stand."

"As I told you once before, Rhaenyra will not attack the Capital with her daughter in it. Especially not if her only daughter serves as Queen Consort and if the Gods are good, not if she's carrying the future heir to the throne."

"Do you truly believe the Gods to be as foolish as yourself? You think they would allow me to bear that degenerate's children? Do you truly think I would allow myself to do so?"

"Aegon is our King," she refuted, "His Grace is to be spoken of with reverence. Carrying his children would be a blessing to not only you but House Targaryen and the whole of the Realm."

"You have always known what he is and you toil in his service anyway," the Dowager Queen stood tense at your words, both of your gazes shifting to the blood-stained sheets, "And even as a new mother, I can understand only acting in what you believe to be in the best interest of your children. But does that truly mean turning a blind eye?" you spat, slowly approaching her as she stood ridged, "There are a few things I wish for you to understand, Your Grace. I want you to understand that I will never marry Aegon. Understand that he has never been half-worthy of the throne he sits," mere inches kept you from her face as you lowered your tone, "And I want you to understand this most of all, that it was you who put him there. It is you, Alicent Hightower, who will be to blame when the entire Realm burns for it."

She fought the tears you watched brim in her eyes before swallowing thickly, "Have it your way, Princess. I have tried to be more than fair. May the Father and the rest of the Seven show you just mercy on the morrow. The maids will be in soon to change your sheets. I'd hate for you to sleep in such a mess."

And with that, the Queen Mother left you. Your hands shook and before you knew it, you were tearing the messed bed sheets apart yourself, broken sobs clawing out of your already raw throat. Your chest heaved as you stared at the tattered bed before your knees fell weak and you collapsed to the carpet-covered stone. What was to become of you now?

You weren't sure how you managed to soothe yourself enough to find sleep. The Dowager Queen had commanded that you be bathed and the room rectified for His Grace. And now you were just as you were earlier that day. This time, nobody to help you clean yourself after as you lacked the strength to do it yourself.

"Sleep in it," Aegon had drunkenly mocked as he redressed, "It'll remind you how lucky you'll be to carry my heirs, Princess. Or should I say, my Queen?"

Your body snapped awake when you heard one of your chamber doors creak open as the dim light from the hall illuminated the room. Your body was ridged as you prepared yourself for the struggle yet again. You felt the bed indent behind you, it was odd for Aegon to go about it this way but you thought it best to stay as quiet as possible.

Suddenly a large hand came over your mouth and you did not hesitate to kick, flail, scream, or scratch your attacker. Your tangled hair obscured your eyesight as you fought blindly.

"Get off me!" you cried, "Stop it! Please, no!"

"Shhh, ñuha jorrāelagon, it is me," your body ceased at the familiar tones. A soft touch pushed the hair from your eyes and a sharp gasp left your lips as you were met with the sight of an eyepatch and a soft lilac eye. My love.

"A-Aemond," your voice trembled. Your hands moved to hold his face, tracing the sharp features, "Is that truly you? This is not a dream. A figment of my imagination, perhaps."

He met your hand on his face, "No, my dear wife. I am here. I came here for you."

You should have felt relief at his words but all you could manage was shame. You pulled yourself from Aemond, retreating into your designated fetal position.

"Y/N? What is it?" he reached out for you once again.

"No," you stopped him, "P-Please, do not touch me. I can barely stand you looking at me."

Aemond's brow furrowed before finally taking in your disheveled state. Your hair tangled and damp with tears and sweat. There were gashes all throughout your nightgown. Cuts and bruises decorated your body. And finally, the blood. The blood that stained everything. Your nightgown, the sheets, your legs. He had seen enough of Aegon's previous serving girls, other lowly girls from around the castle, even Helaena. There was no saving Aegon now.

"Y/N, did he-" Aemond could barely bring himself to say the words, "Did Aegon do this?"

You answered first with a sob, "I begged him to stop, Aemond. You must believe me, I did not want-"

"Shhh," he moved to hold you before pulling himself back as you flinched again. His heart breaking, "Of course, I believe you, my love. And I'm sor-"

"Please do not say you are sorry," you cut him off, "That is the last thing I want to hear. Just please promise me it won't happen again. I-I can't go through that- I won't."

"Y/N," Aemond merely placed his hand near you, careful of his movements, "I swear by the Old Gods and the New, he will never lay his hand on you again." Or anyone ever again, once Aemond was through with him.

A wave of relief washed over you as you finally managed to let your hand intertwine with Aemond's. That familiar sense of security enveloping you once again.

"I hope I can assume you have a plan to get us out of this rat's nest of a Capital?"

Aemond nodded, pulling a cloak from behind me, "Put this on. Your brothers are waiting for us."

"My brothers?" you questioned, a tug at your heart at their bravery and dedication to you.

You finished tying the cloak around you before taking Aemond's hand as he led you through the secret passageways that ran through the Red Keep. Finally coming out of the back of the castle onto one of the beaches that surrounded it. Jace and Luke standing beside their own dragons as well as Vhagar and Seasmoke. How they managed to sneak four nearly-adult dragons into King's Landing was a mystery to you.

"Sister! Y/N!" they both turned, running to you, arms open.

Aemond stepped in front of them as you stood ridged, "Slowly, boys." Both of them exchanged concerning looks.

Jace's fist curled around the hilt of his sword at the realization of why Aemond had stopped them, "He did this?"

Aemond gave a quick nod as you looked away shamefully, "And he will be dealt with accordingly."

"I'm coming with you," Jace stated, "Luke, you and Y/N fly back to Dragonstone. Mother will be expecting you."

"Go where? Jace, what are you talking about?" you questioned.

Aemond turned to you, taking your hands gently again, "You are safe and that's all that matters. Now, I need you to mount Seasmoke and fly home."

"I will. Once you do the same with Vhagar and Jace with Vermax."

"I cannot come with you this time, ñuha jorrāelagon." My love.

Tears brimmed in your eyes as you came to understand what was happening. Aemond could not let what Aegon did stand. The threat you had made to the drunken usurper had come to fruition.

"Gaomā daor emagon naejot gaomagon bisa, Aemond. Kosti jikagon lenton. Kosti sagon lēda īlva riñar. Kostilus, ñuha jorrāelagon," you pleaded with your husband. You do not have to do this, Aemond. We can go home. We can be with our children. Please, my love.

"Nyke daor shijetra ñuha lēkia syt bisa. Ziry gaomas daor gūrogon ziry. Ziry ōdrikagon ao," Aemond slowly and gently took your face in his hands, "Aegon must face the consequences of his actions. I must kill him." I cannot forgive my brother for this. He does not deserve it. He hurt you.

"Aemond, if you do this, they'll-"

"Kill me," he finished, "I know."

"And you are just accepting of that? You are just accepting that you are abandoning me? Abandoning our children? Our family?!" your voice cracked as it rose.

Your husband let out a trembling sigh, "I am your sworn protector. That means I swore to rid the world of those who would bring you harm. I do not intend to abandon you, my sweet wife. My priorities were to get you out safely but to also ensure that my brother faces the dire consequences of his actions."

Arguing was pointless, Aemond's mind was made up. But that did not mean you could not try, "As my sworn protector, you made an oath to always be by my side. And our children's. And while I know your mind is set. I just ask that you promise me that you will try," his brow quirked at your request, "That you will try your best to return to me. To return to our babies. Promise me that you will try not to die, Aemond."

He took your hands in his, bringing them softly to his lips, "I promise, my love. For you and our children, I will try."

You wanted nothing more than for Aemond to wrap you so tightly in his embrace and never let you go. But another part of you could hardly deal with his hands intertwined with yours. And Aemond knew this, which is why he pushed no further.

"I love you, Aemond."

"And I love you, Y/N."

"Y/N! Aemond!" you turned to see Jace pointing up at the Red Keep, Aegon's knights marching about, looking for you.

"You must go," Aemond pulled you over to Seasmoke, aiding you as you mounted his back, "Tell our children I love them."

"You will tell them yourself," you stated. Aemond gave you a soft smirk before kissing your hands once again. Jace waved him back to the tunnel before the two of them disappeared into its darkness.

The commotion from the castle stirred the dragons, "Sagon gīda, Seasmoke," you cooed at your dragon. You turned to your younger brother as he finished mounting Arrax, both of you signaling your readiness. Be calm, Seasmoke.

"Down there!" you heard a voice call from one of the cliffs. A small army of guards rushed down to the beach.

"Go, Luke!" you called to him, the panic in his eyes growing as he took flight, "Sōvegon!" Seasmoke took to the air just before the guards were able to circle you. Fly.

The beaches of Dragonstone had never looked more welcoming as they came into view. The usually burnt smell emitting from the Dragonmont was enough to make most gag but right now, it filled your nose like the scent of fresh lavender oil.

"Y/N," Luke approached you wearily as you dismounted from Seasmoke, "A-Are you alright?"

You nodded as the tears brimmed in your eyes at the relief of being home and safe, "Thank you, little brother. I owe you my life."

"You're my big sister," he smiled softly, "And I know you would have done the same for me. Would you like to take my arm? I can escort us to Mother."

That heaviness in your chest dwindled a bit at your brother's sweet gesture as you wrapped your arm in his, "Thank you, Luke."

His eyes fell sad at the bruises that littered your arm, "I can fetch Grand Maester Gerardys afterward if you'd like."

You said nothing but nodded as you continued up the steps and through the halls of the castle. You arrived at the Great Hall, entering the relatively empty room. Only most of your immediate family seemed to be present.

"Prince Lucerys Velaryon and Princess Y/N Velaryon!" Ser Erryk announced quickly, a slight smile on his face at the announcement of your return.

Your mother turned quickly, an alleviated smile spreading across her face as she rushed to you, "Y/N!" she wrapped her arms around you. As much as you hated the idea of being touched by a man, nothing could have eased you more than your mother's warm and protective embrace.

"Mother," your hands clinging to her dress as you both sobbed into one another.

She caressed your hair, tucking it behind your ears, "Oh, my sweet girl. My beautiful princess," she cried as she caught sight of your cut lips and bruised neck, "I am so sorry this happened. And I promise you, they will pay for what they have done."

"Aemond and Jace are making sure of that," you muttered.

"Jace?" she questioned before her eyes moved to a guilt-ridden Luke, "Your brother went with Aemond?"

Luke nodded hesitantly, "Please do not be angry, Your Grace. Jace only did what he thought was right-"

"He deliberately disobeyed me!"

"You said it yourself they must pay for what they've done! Aegon hurt Y/N! He rap-"

"Lucerys!" you cut him off, preventing him from revealing what Aegon had actually done to hurt you, "That is enough."

Your mother's ridged at her assumption of what Luke would have said had you not stepped in, "Y/N, what did they do to you?"

You refused to answer, instead staring her down with your tearful gaze and heavy breaths. This gave her more time to take in your extensive injuries.

"Luke, find Grand Maester Gerardys," her eyes never leaving yours as she delved out instructions, "The rest of you, leave us. We will reconvene later."

"At once, Your Grace," various agreeing statements came from everyone as they exited Dragonstone's Great Hall.

Your mother's breath trembled as she took your hands again, "You do not have to speak if you do not wish. I am only going to ask you this once so we may proceed forward with the same knowledge of what happened to you there." She swallowed thickly as the tears fell down both of your eyes, "Did Aegon rape you?"

And the answer to that very question is what led your husband and elder brother to find themselves creeping through a hidden doorway into Aegon's chambers.

"The guards are busy looking for her," Jace whispered over to Aemond, "We should have plenty of time."

"Mmm," Aemond grunted in return. Aegon was passed out, an empty wine goblet looking as if it had fallen onto his floor. Knowing that Aegon could sleep so soundly after defiling you made Aemond's blood boil. The rage coursed through him as he snatched his older brother from his sleep.

"Huh?!" Aegon grumbled, "Aemond?"

"Hello, big brother," Aemond practically growled. Aegon moved to yell before Aemond clamped his hand over his mouth, "If you so much as make a sound, I will cut off your cock and shove it down your throat before your guards even have time to make it through the doors. Am I clear?"

Aegon huffed before nodding his head, "I see you brought along our Strong nephew. It is so good to see you, Jace. Been a long time, too long really."

Jace finished barring the door, "Uncle. I would not be too happy to see me if I were you."

"And to what do I owe this little surprise visit, Brother?" Aemond only glared at his brother, "Oh, it is not me you wish to see, is it? The Princess Y/N-"

Aemond's hand came across his elder brother's face before taking him by the collar of his shirt, "You dare speak her name? After what you did, you dare-"

"It was only a bit of fun!" Aegon giggled, the wine still having a very obvious effect on him, "You have really got to learn to share, little brother. Keeping a woman like Y/N all to yourself? Well, it's just not fair to the rest of us."

Another blow to Aegon's now bloodied face, "I have never known you to be a wise man, Aegon. But only a fool would do what you did and expect to live long afterward. A debt is owed."

"You do know you will die for this," Aegon muttered.

"You're older, it is only right that you are first," Aemond answered as he pulled his dagger from his belt.

Back on Dragonstone, most of your outward problems had been remedied. The Grand Maester had ensured you that the bruises would fade soon, he had also sewn your bigger cuts and put a soothing poultice over the smaller ones. Your mother and he both instructed the kitchen servants to bring you milk of the poppy when you wished to sleep.

And now you were to finally be reunited with your babies, "They've missed you. I can tell," your mother explained as she escorted you to the nursery.

"It's been less than three nights without them and I still felt as if I would burst into flames," you explained.

Small laughs were exchanged between the two of you, "Your Grace, Princess," one of the maids greeted you, "The babes are in their cradles. Though their next feeding is soon, I can return whenever it pleases you."

"That will not be necessary," you answered, "I will continue feeding them myself as I did before."

"Y/N, you are still recovering," your mother tried to intervene, "I'm sure, she would not mind-"

"As I said before, I will feed my babies."

The wet nurse turned to your mother who gave a curt nod, "As you wish, Princess. Your Grace," she curtsied before leaving the nursery.

You had walked over to the cradles. Your two sweet babies cooing and wriggling about. A smile spread across your face as you took each of them in one arm.

You winced a bit at the added pressure to your bruises, "Careful," your mother moved to take your son, "Here, let me-"

"I'm fine, Mother," you snapped, turning away, "I'm sorry," you sighed, "I know you only mean well. I just need to take care of them. On my own, please."

"I know, my love," she sighed as she pushed your hair from your face, "When you and Jace were born, I hardly let anyone near the two of you. Your father was the exception, most of the time anyway."

"Which father?" she shot you a discerning look, "I am a grown woman, Mother. Not a child. Besides, it is just us. We may speak the truth as we both know it."

Your mother sighed, "Both," she chuckled slightly, "Laenor, Harwin. They both wanted to be involved, a rarity in men nowadays, let alone almost twenty years ago. But I could hardly bear not having you in my arms. I had to protect you. So many people knew the best way to hurt me was to hurt one of you. I could not let that happen. You two were all I had before the rest of your brothers."

You swayed with your own babies, "I love you, Mother. And I can only hope to be half the mother you are."

"You are already better, sweet girl," she caressed your face, "These two have no idea how lucky they are to have you for a mother."

Gazing down at your silver-haired babies brought your mind back to the man they had inherited it from. And your chest grew heavy at the possibility that you might never see him or your twin brother again.

"But they need their father," your voice strained, "I was lucky enough to have Harwin and Laenor for as long as I did. Even Daemon. I cannot imagine if my babies were to never experience that."

Your mother moved to speak, "Y/N-"

"He has to come back," you cried softly, "I cannot do this without him. I just-"

"Your Grace!" the wet nurse had burst through the doors, "Princess, I-I apologize for the intrusion but-"

"The Princes have returned!" Ser Erryk followed into the nursery, his chest heaving as he spoke.

"The Princes?" Ser Erryk nodded at your mother's question, "Gather everyone in the Great Hall as fast as you can," she turned back to you, "We must go."

You nodded, giving each of your babes a hastened kiss on the head before handing them over to the wet nurse, "I shall return."

Your mother and you hurried to the Great Hall. The various members of her council stood by anxiously. You scanned the room and your heart nearly skipped a beat at the sight of your husband and brother. You ran over to them, embracing Jace first.

"I'm so happy you are alright, big brother," you sighed.

Your brother gave you a soft smirk, "It is so good to have you home, Sister, where you belong."

"Aemond," you finally turned to your husband, taking his chiseled face into your shaky hands, "You kept your promise."

His hands fell over yours, "Of course, I did. What would I do without you and our beautiful babies?"

Gazing at your husband allowed you to finally take in his tattered sight. His hair was frizzed, blood smeared on the leather of his clothes, and yet he seemed to be unharmed.

"What happened?" you asked, "Is he-" your voice caught in your throat at the mere thought of Aegon.

Aemond nodded at you before turning to your mother, "Our usurper brother is dead. I imagine the Greens will be on Dragonstone's shores in mere hours."

"Their cause is lost. Are they truly so opposed to my ascension?" your mother asked.

"Alicent Hightower gave the king three sons, Your Grace," the Sea Snake answered, "And not once did your father waiver on you being his appointed heir. She and Ser Otto are far too scorned to give up now."

"Lord Corlys is right," Daemon stepped in, "Aegon's death is merely a further justification of their Rhaenyra the Cruel narrative. We must prepare for war, Your Grace."

Aemond's hand clutched yours as all eyes fell on your mother. Her jaw clenched as she looked around the room, fighting the tears as she looked at you and your siblings.

She swallowed the lump in her throat, "Let us prepare then."

The plan was set. Everyone knew their duties, their missions, and goals. But now they were no longer hypotheticals, they were happening. In real time.

You walked into your children's nursery, standing over their cradles as they slept soundly. Their frail chests rising and falling with their small breaths. The shuffling of armor pulling you from them.

Aemond stalked into the room, his hair tied back and his armor fastened against him. He joined your side at their cribs.

"It seems we spend more time saying goodbye to them than anything else," he spoke softly.

A slight chuckle left your lips, "It's just not fair."

"No it isn't," Aemond agreed.

"My mother was telling me about how protective she was over Jace and me when we were born. She said so many people knew the best way to hurt her was to hurt one of us," you stroked the soft silver fuzz on your twins' heads, "I usually don't like to admit when she's right," you both chuckled, "Our greatest weaknesses."

You felt Aemond's hand take yours, "And our greatest strengths."

You sighed, smiling up at your husband. His usual stoic exterior was soft as he smiled back, "Avy jorrāelan, Dārilaros Aemond." I love you, Prince Aemond.

Aemond kissed you softly, longingly, all his love pouring through. You pulled back, resting your foreheads together, "Avy jorrāelan, Dārilaros Y/N." I love you, Princess Y/N.

The bells of Dragonstone rang and you could hear the clamoring happening just outside. Neither of you wanted to move, neither of you wanted to accept the reality you were living.

One of the wet nurses entered, "Prince Aemond, Princess Y/N," she curtsied, "I've come to escort the children to the keep safe."

You both nodded, each of you taking a swaddle into your arms, careful to mind the armor you wore, "Goodbye, my sweetlings," you kissed their heads, tears staining the cloths they were bundled in, "I love you."

Both of your hearts sank as you handed the babies over to the young girl. No pain could ever compare to the idea of something happening to you or Aemond, something that would prevent you from watching your precious children grow. No pain except for someone hurting them instead.

"No one is ever going to harm them," it was as if Aemond read your mind, "We will see them soon."

You had just finished mounting your dragons. Your hand curled around the hilt of your sword, "Let us ensure it."

You exchanged small smirks with your husband before commanding your dragons to take flight. Ships, men, fires, dragons. Dragonstone had turned from a piece of Targaryen history to a Targaryen war zone. And now it was your turn to fight for everything you held most dear.

"Dracarys!"

[thedeathlysallows]

Is It Over Now? (10)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Aemma Velaryon; Aegon Targaryen x Aemma Velaryon

Summary: Red blood, white snow

Warnings: canon typical Targaryen incest. Aemond confesses Luke's fate. Aegon is a sneaky bastard. Sexual assault.

Tag List: @callsignwidow

"Be careful, my darling!" Laenor, your father, calls out in worry as you dash ahead of him. "Dragons can be dangerous."

"Not Vermithor! He isn't mean, he's just lonely and sad because no one understands him." You cross your arms and whirl around to face Laenor who simply sighs in the face of your five year old stubbornness.

"You look like your Aunt Laena when you do that."

"That's what grandfather says."

Laenor scoops you up in his arms and carries you the rest of the way to Vermithor's favorite resting spot: a large valley on the south side of the island. It's the perfect resting spot for him really. The size is perfect for the grumpy old dragon to rest his wings when he grows tired of the sky or his volcano.

That's where you happened upon him the first time. He was toying with some poor sheep before devouring it whole, and you could only stand and watch in awe. When he turned his massive head to meet your eyes upon hearing your shocked gasp you knew right away Vermithor was yours.

Your parents tried to argue with you, of course. They told you he was too old and you too inexperienced.

"Papa?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think Vermithor and Vhagar are friends? Mother says they're close in age."

Laenor chuckles at your question and says, "perhaps. Would you like them to be friends?"

You think for a minute, tapping your finger against your chin. "Yes, actually. I think they'd be very good friends. Maybe they'll even fall in love one day?"

"Maybe, my darling." Laenor puts you down as the two of you reach the top of the valley and kneels before you. You can see Vermithor just below watching you with an unspoken joy. "But for now I'm afraid you must wake up."

You frown. This isn't how the memory goes. "What?"

"Wake up, Aemma." Laenor's voice shifts and fear grips your heart.

"Papa?"

"Aemma, wake up!"

You bolt straight up in bed, pushing away the hands gripping your shoulders. Your heart thuds in your chest and your skin feels sticky from sweating in the warm summer air circulating your bedroom. Tears continue rolling down your cheeks. Aemond looks down at you with concern. You've been doing nothing but sleeping and crying since the coronation, and he isn't sure how to help you.

"Oh," you finally manage to say. "You've returned. How was Lord Baratheon."

"As stubborn as you'd expect." Aemond sits beside you, taking your hand in his. "I saw Lucerys at Storm's End."

You visibly perk up, desperate to hear anything about your family. "How is he?"

There are few people in Aemond's life that can read his expressions and read them truly. His mother, Helaena, and you. He knows he can't lie to you about what happened, but what else can he possibly say? Not a soul yet knows what happened between him and Lucerys because he couldn't have word of it getting back to you before he could tell you himself.

"Aemond?"

He flinches at the feeling of your hand caressing his cheek. He doesn't deserve it. He doesn't deserve you. You're too kind, too beautiful, too utterly pure for this world. He knows there isn't a possibility of forgiveness, but he can't live without you.

So Aemond takes a steadying breath and says, "there was an incident."

"What do you mean?"

"We departed Storm's End at the same time, but our dragons seemed to be under the impression it was a chase. Arrax attacked first and Vhagar followed suit. I tried to stop it, but neither dragon would listen."

You blink, drawing your hand away from Aemond's face. "Aemond, what are you trying to tell me?"

"Lucerys and Arrax perished. I never meant for things to get out of hand-"

The blood leaves your face and you're left with an icy, lightheaded feeling. "It doesn't fucking matter what you meant! My brother is dead!"

"He wasn't supposed to die!"

"Oh, I'm so sorry, did you try telling him that?" The venom in your voice is almost tangible and you hope it's enough to burn Aemond. "Get out."

"Aemma-"

"I said get out!"

Rather than fight you, Aemond retreats slowly. "I'll leave you to mourn in peace, wife."

Just as you hoped your words burnt Aemond, his burn you in return. "Don't call me that."

"You are my wife. I understand you're hurt, but that won't change the truth."

You choke back a sob, saying, "please, Aemond. Just go."

"As you wish. I'll return after I've met with the council."

You want to tell him not to bother, but the words won't come. Nothing comes except the irresistible beckoning of sleep. That's what you'll do. You'll go back to sleep and maybe this time Luke will be there along with your father.

But sleep won't come despite the heaviness of your eyelids.

You toss back and forth miserably for what could be minutes or hours, you don't know.

In the distance you can faintly hear the door open and close. Footsteps approach the bed, weight dips and shifts on the mattress, hands grab your waist and turn you over, you bury your face in his chest and breathe in the familiar scent of Aegon.

"I sent Aemond to keep an eye on the City Watch as they train," Aegon explains as he strokes your hair.

You say nothing in return. You aren't stupid. You aren't naive. You understand exactly why Aegon keeps sending Aemond on all these various errands and it makes your blood boil. He still sees you as a toy to fight over, to win. Even in the shadow of your brother's death all Aegon cares about is using your body.

As if in silent agreement with your thoughts, Aegon's hand slips beneath the thin cotton of your nightgown to cup your sex. His lips, once soft and inviting, feel harsh against your neck now. You wriggle against him, trying your best to force him off of you.

"I want you to leave," you tell him. "Get out of my chambers and bring Aemond back."

"You can't mean that, sweet girl." Aegon grinds his hard cock into your ass, nipping at your earlobe.

"I do."

Before you can fight him further, Aegon flips you over so you're pinned beneath him, his eyes burning with rage. He grabs your wrists and holds them above your head. You can feel the heat of his body through your gown and you hate yourself for the way it ignites a fire in your belly. Aegon is the reason for your current torment and yet you still find yourself craving him in some way.

"You don't mean that," he repeats. "Never say that again. Not you."

Aegon hates the blank look in your eyes. It's frightening, something he's never witnessed before. You've always loved him the most. Always.

"Tell me you don't mean it. Tell me!"

"I'll thank you to get off my wife, brother." Aemond's hand grips Aegon's collar firmly, leaving no option for Aegon except to listen.

You slowly sit up as Aegon's weight leaves you. The brothers glare at one another. You're unimpressed by their pissing match.

"I would like to write to my mother," you announce. "No, I will write to my mother."

"You can't," Aegon says without looking away from Aemond. "You'll have no contact with your traitor mother."

"What could I possibly tell her that would be so damning? I know nothing of your plans, all of you have made sure of that. Let me mourn with my family."

Both men are silent and you know the answer before Aegon says it.

"No."

[tecchoussuperlady]

𝑴𝑰𝑫𝑨𝑺 𝑻𝑶𝑼𝑪𝑯

- 𝒕𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒚𝒂

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

Chuuya Nakahara X Osamu Dazai

Ballroom dancers AU

- Request by @gold0venice

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

Warnings: PSD (not pointed out), SA (not mentioned yet, but if you look deeper into it you might realize), corruption

Words: 1.1k (I thought it's longer, but nvm THE REST WILL BE LONGER, TRUST ME)

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

7th May

Both of them sat on the bench with a loud thud.

,,Now you two idiots, say each other one nice thing."

,,What?"

,,We are not some little bastards at kindergarten!"

,,Then stop acting like them."

Both of the teenagers looked at their coaches with wide eyes. They were supposed to prepare for their competition and not having some group bonding.

"We have to prepare coach! We don't have time for such a things, not like there's a one good thing about the idiot Nakahara."

,,You little-"

,,I'm not the little one here."

,,Enough, do what I said or you are being disqualified. How are you two supposed to do such an art as ballroom dancing, when you can't even say a single nice thing about the other one?"

Both the brunette and the ginger haired teens went quiet without sparing a glance at the other one. Chuuya refused to start, there is no way he will say it first.

Is there even one good thing about his partner? He was probably handsome according to ladies. Now when he thought about it deeper Osamu wasn't bad looking. He was handsome, though his hair always looked somehow greasy. Was hair even naturally like this... maybe they were originally curly?

,,I like your style..."

The brunette spoke up shocking the ginger next to him.

,,... in shoes."

Before Chuuya could argue back the coach had enough and raised his hands to flick the boys forehead.

,,What? Why that coach?"

Osamu started whining betrayed. Why did he had to bother with such a minor things before important stage performance?

,,Come on, I'm not forcing you two to love each other. But dancing is more than just muscle memory of some steps and movements. It's an art, made by two people. And two messy souls cannot make such an art together. Now be honest, You can go back to bickering as always after today's day."

Chuuya's thoughts were dismantling everywhere. What type of compliment should he state about Osamu Dazai?

,,I like the way you value and treat your belongings. You might get the filthiest and the most boring gift, but you will still treat it as if it's made out of diamonds."

Osamu moved his eyes towards the chain on Chuuya's hat.

His hands hesitantly traced the chain on his hat. How did Osamu knew he didn't just bought it, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to get his answers right now.

,,Thanks I guess, so umm..."

Chuuya couldn't bring himself to speak up. There was definitely something good about Osamu, but why his mind was unable to bring up any at this moment?

,,I know you want to say that you love everything about me Nakahara, but one thing will be enough for today."

As if.

,,Well i like your..."

He really couldn't decide and Osamu's thrilled eyes waiting for him to finally give him some praise weren't helping.

,,...I like your hands."

The room fell into silence.

,,My my hands? I mean, understandable. But why my hands out of everything man."

Thier trainer was still watching them silently not uttering a single word anymore.

,,You wanted one thing and i said one! You were staring at me weirdly and all too!"

Chuuya couldn't help but kept quietly screaming and complaining.

,,Alright, i think that's enough for today."

The coach gave up and quickly rushed away from the bickering teenagers.

,,Come on Nakahara, we don't need to be lovers to beat some losers in dancing."

Osamu took his hand from his coat and reached to Chuuya. Both of them were already clothed and ready, Osamu with his black shirt covering most of his bandaged places. His overcoat was lined with charming golden patern. And Chuuya with silky red shirt and black vest, thick tied belt included.

,,Just don't mess up Dazai."

,,Same goes to you, the Academy's future is in our hands after all."

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

The first half of the participants were already on the dance floor doing the introducing dance.

All pairs were gently swaying into the music including Chuuya Nakahara and Osamu Dazai. Being on the dance floor was as beautiful as always, Chuuya found comfort in dancing. He could thoughtfully express everything his heart bears without actually dealing with the problems. Someone might adress it as running away from their problems, but for Chuuya it was freeing. Being free from all the world problems and all the other tasks he had to do after this dance will end.

,,You are a bit stern Chuuya, relax a bit."

Osamu's fingers slightly tapped the gingers back while the slight wind caused by the movement of their bodies was slightly messing their hair.

,,Stop doing that and no need to call me by my first name Dazai."

Chuuya made sure to put emphasis on Osamu's name.

,,Ah Chuuya Nakahara..."

Both of the teenagers remained silent for the rest of their dance, but anyone observing their movements could see the slight change in their movements.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

,,The main dance is in 10 minutes from now on Nakahara. I don't know what's going on inside your head, but let it go and focus on what's important now."

Their coach give them last bit of advice and courageous words and left to watch one of the pairs on the dance floor.

,,My back feels a bit stiff, could hand me a bit of help Dazai?"

He couldn't help but hear his thoughts running in his head more fast than usually.

It's been almost thirty minutes from when their dance ended and Osamu's hands left his body, but the ginger still felt his touch burning on his skin as if it burned through his clothes.

Osamu got up and went behind Chuuya, with swift throw and grab he could feel a crack and Chuuya's body went more into loose position however the burning sensation haven't disappeared.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

As soon as Chuuya's feets touched the dance floor he was blinded by lights from all directions and the audience greeted both teenagers with light applause.

Suddenly Chuuya felt 5 years old again, seeing the world for the first time and tasting the aroma of society. Before he could sink deeper into his corrosive thoughts slim hand interrupted him. A soft touch going from his neck in light circles to his lower back.

After all he wasn't alone, not for now. With all his strenght he lifted his head to see Osamu next to him, even if he wasn't the best person or someone with heartwarming personality he felt safe with him.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

𓍢ִ໋🀦 I'm not sure I'd anyone noticed, but it's written in a style where both Chuuya and Osamh call each other second names/surnames, but when they think about each other, they do in first names. (Does it even makes sense help?)

This is disappointingly short, but I will try to post another part REALLY soon. Think about this as an opening.

DON'T GET DEHYDRATED or overstressed, because of school guys. Get a really delicious meal and relax a bit!

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

[browhosthis45]

Think I’m kinda addicted to writing about this stupid outlaw now. Also my first time writing anything mature so please i know it’s awkward i’m sorry😭😭

Arthur Morgan who is so surprised a pretty young thing like you wants anything to do with him. “I don’t get why you’re with a mean ol’ bastard like me anyway” and you just have to reply with, “Arthur I fucking love you.”

I mean this man is in awe everyday that he even gets to wake up next to you.

“What are you looking at Arthur?” and he just stares at you with the most hungry look in his eyes.

But because of this he’s also super overprotective of you knowing how bad some men in these parts can be when around a helpless woman. Like you go to grab your coat and lace up your boots and he’s already grabbing his as well, “Arthur what’re you doin’?” “Just going for a ride ya know?” and he follows you the whole time thinking he’s so inconspicuous.

It’s not all sunshine though, he has his insecurities because of the age difference between you two. Half the time he notices another man more appropriate for your age stare at you, he just tells you that’s what you deserve and tries to break up with you. Of course you don’t let that happen not by a long shot.

We all know the older the age the more experience right? Well that’s very true with Arthur. This man knows exactly what to do whenever you two lay together. If you were nervous at all about fucking him, he crushed those nerves immediately.

With this though comes him wanting to take you anywhere and everywhere with anyone around. I swear his sex drive needs to studied. You even look at him for a second and he’s telling you to take your pants off.

God bless the rest of the gang who had to make it through the nights where he’d take you back to his flimsy little tent. “Art-Arthur we need *gasp* we need to be qu-quiet.” You would plead with him. “You fucking better not I wan- no I need to hear you.” He wasn’t the type of man to argue with so you did just that and made sure he heard you. I mean what else could you do while he had you bent over a small table pounding into you like an animal?

He was also such a sweet man when it was just you two with nothing else on his mind. You’d be laying in the middle of a flower field still naked while he sketched you in his journal he never let you see. “Oh come on Arthur just let me see this one!” “You won’t like it I promise, i’m not that good.” He’d state shyly, little did you know his art was some of the most beautiful you would have ever seen.

[captain-lessship]

Phase One-Seven with 2D, Russel and Murdoc

Note: For 2D and Russel, the reader in gender Neutral (pan and bi kings) and for Murdoc, it’s fem reader (I am sorry but I can’t see him dating a man imo but you can simply read over the gendered head cannon if you want <3)

Phase One 2D-

You were a waitress at the diner where Gorillaz always got breakfast and he was smitten with you almost instantly and always tried to look his best when they went there, leading Murdoc to make fun of him for “preening like a lanky rooster”

Is a little shy and still shocked you even agreed to go on a date with him in the first place ( Having your eyes knocked in by a bastard bass player who shouldn’t be allowed to ever drive might put a damper on your dating scene)

Has a small amount of trust issues but slowly and steadily, he opened his heavily romantic side to you.

His love language is words of affirmation. He compliments you a lot and genuinely means each and everyone.

Is a classic man when it comes to pet names but when he gets drunk and such, he breaks out a special one: Painkiller. (Must be heavily intoxicated and has only happened once. He later yelled “Swiper, No Swiping” at a picture of a fix while walking home later that night)

Speaking of painkillers, you make sure he never takes too many at once and he won’t argue with you about it.

Phase Seven 2D

Twenty one years later and still going strong.

Has gotten to the point where he can’t sleep unless he’s beside you. 

He just feels so loved and protected by you.

Although he still sings your praises, he’s developed a taste for gifts he’ll know you will like. 

Has kept mementos from every one of your dates: movie ticket stubs, Photo Booth slips, receipts from dinners, little souvenirs from trips and key cards from hotels. They are stored in a converse box. He had made it his mission to protect it because it is essentially a time line of nearly a quarter of a century spent with you.

When he took you to Hollywood, you and him had a great time. Until you realized that you’re loving boyfriend was about to get sacrificed. That really killed the vibe of the getaway.

Phase One Russel-

You were the instrument repair person and he often stared at you while you were fixing his drum set. 

He asked you to watch a movie and the rest is history.

You both shit talk Murdoc in the privacy of your rooms. 

You two pretty much keep everyone else alive. (Which means you cut the crust off 2D’s and Noodles sandwich and don’t let Murdoc suffocate in his own smell while lounging in the Winnebago) 

One time you and him went on a weekend get away and came back to a kitchen with a scorched ceiling,    a broken water pipe and one less Murdoc eye brow.

He is definitely a Quality time guy. 

You and him have a ritual where you make your breakfast and sit in complete silence.

At the start of the relationship, you thought the silence was his way of showing irritation but really it was the opposite.

You’ve come to love the lack of words but surplus of radiating love from him.

Phase Seven Russel-

The relationship has gotten tough as of late due to his new hobby: staring at TV Static.

You get into arguments about it when he finally looks away

You are trying your best to kept it together 

You still spend a lot of time with him but you hate the feeling that you need to compete with fabled answers in blurring white, gray and black. 

After the events of the cult incident , he slowly started to return to normal, much to your joy.

Slowly but surely, your relationship got back on track.

Phase One Murdoc-

Heard you doing spoken word one night at a “weird hipster whacko bar” (his exact words) he was scoping out to potentially rob and thought you’d be a great song writer 

Talked to you about it, caught feelings after a month or so

attempted to kidnap you but you dropped a piano out the window on his head.

Just kidding.

It was a keyboard. 

After a week of shame and plotting, he did what only Murdoc could do: Try again.

You escaped being kidnapped once again but at this point, you had kinda gotten a crush on him. So you moved into his ‘house’ of Kong Studios to work on the song writing process with his magnum opus of a band called Gorillaz.

You became a hit with all the band members. 2D because you kept Murdoc from hitting him, Russel because you were great to talk to and cook with and Noodle because she was happy to have another girl around, even if you were a good twenty years older than her.

You and Murdoc are a surprisingly easy going and comfortable couple. Everyone has their quirks and it just so happens that yours doesn’t irk him and his doesn’t irk you. 

Sure there’s things you don’t like about him (the abuse of the singer, the kidnapping/ attempted kidnapping of people, Attempted Murder, Drug Possession, Driving Law Violations.) but you love him anyway.

Life has not been kind to Murdoc, which doesn’t give him an excuse but it gives an element of understanding. 

He is trying to change for you. He’s trying to be calmer, a tad nicer and more pleasant to be around and the effort is all you ever asked for. 

Alright happy time people, happy time.

Is very affectionate in the comfort of his home.

Prone to just laying a random one of his limbs on you while sitting down. 

You have matching upside down cross necklaces. 

Is a physical touch kind of guy, but on his own terms.

No very romantic in the regular but when he tries? Yup.. Mr. Darcy Material (Pride and Prejudice is the only movie that he doesn’t fall asleep during)

Phase Seven Murdoc-

Welp… When your lover of twenty one years starts a cult to take a demon to bed, there’s only so much you can forgive.

This caused a rift and you are very angry with him at the moment. 

But then, you got called to the hospital (You are 2Ds and Noodles Emergency contact) 

Of course you showed up.

What you then saw was the tipping point.

You and Murdoc are currently on a break. (Will resume after detailed apology and if you decide to do so.) 

[sequinsmile-x]

Burn Forever : Chapter Two - Peace

She looks at herself in the mirror for a moment before she turns around, entirely overwhelmed by how her day had started in comparison to how it had ended. How she’d gone from waking up next to a man who she’d fallen out of love with several months ago to standing in the bathroom of the man she’d loved for years.

It's been months since they've spoken, but when Emily calls him, Aaron answers, and they spend December together as she picks up the pieces of her life.

A Young Hotchniss AU

Chapter 2/4

-x-

Hi besties!

Thanks so much for the love on chapter 1, it really means the world to me.

This ended up being another mammoth chapter - so I think it's fair to assume every chapter will be.

Please let me know what you think, and remember to keep the tags in mind <3

-x-

List of tags are on the master list

Words: 5.3k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

He’d always been too by the book. 

It was something he’d been told for as long as he could remember, the idea that he was ‘too serious’ woven into his sense of self long before he really understood what it meant. Even Haley, who had once called his seriousness adorable, used to get frustrated with him at times. She would roll her eyes as she muttered to herself that he couldn’t bend even a little as her irritation got the better of her whenever they argued. He hated it about himself. He would sometimes feel like he was watching from the outside looking in as he struggled to push boundaries he’d built like a fortress in an attempt to protect himself. 

It’s why, even though he knows he’s doing the right thing, he has to take a moment when he arrives outside of Emily’s building. It’s an abuse of power, he knows that, but she needed more of her things and couldn’t go back to her place herself yet. He smiles tightly at the officers stationed at her front door as he flashes his badge, ignoring how they throw each other a questioning look, the whispered I didn’t realise the feds were on this almost passing him by as he steps into her apartment. 

He freezes in place as the door closes behind him, his throat tight as he sees evidence markers scattered throughout an apartment he’d helped to decorate. There are broken ornaments on the floor, spatters of blood and damage to one of the walls that he logically knows are signs of a struggle, but he can’t picture it. Won’t allow himself to picture it, his hands tightening into fists at the mere thought of what had happened here to a woman he loves. 

He turns as the door opens and he smiles tightly as the man in front of him speaks, “Agent Hotchner?” 

Aaron nods, “Detective Morgan?” He replies as he steps towards him and offers him his hand, shaking it firmly as they stand in the foyer of Emily’s apartment, “Thank you for meeting me here.” 

“That’s okay,” he replies, smiling curiously at him, “I was surprised to learn that the feds were interested in this one,” he shrugs one of his shoulders, “You guys don’t usually get involved in a simple domestic violence case.” 

He has to clench his teeth together to stop himself from getting angry, his jaw so tight he’s surprised it doesn’t crack. He’d always found anger the easiest emotion to jump to, so much a part of what he’d experienced as a kid that he hadn’t realised it wasn’t normal for the longest time. He’d grown up around violence. There were times when it felt like it was bred into him, a grim pattern he knew went back to his father’s childhood that Aaron was intent on breaking if he ever had children. He rests his hands on his hips and clears his throat, making sure he controls his voice as he relies. 

“The…the victim,” he says, tripping over the term he knows Emily wouldn’t thank him for, “She’s a good friend of mine. She’s staying with me for a while.” 

Detective Morgan’s eyes go wide, “Oh, I’m sorry,” he replies, his shoulders straightening out, “We’re doing everything we can to catch the bastard. We’ve got a BOLO out for him and his car, and two officers posted at the front door at all times in case he’s stupid enough to come back here.” 

Aaron laughs bitterly and shakes his head, “Ian Doyle is a lot of things, but stupid isn’t one of them. Is it okay if I grab some of her things? She didn’t pack very much,” he presses his lips together tightly, “I won’t disturb anything out there. Just some clothes and things from the bathroom.” 

Detective Morgan nods, “Of course, and I’ll be in touch if we have any updates for her.” 

Aaron nods his thanks and heads further into the apartment. He takes a deep breath when he walks into the bedroom, the bed still unmade from where Emily had come home to find Ian there with someone else, and he pauses in the doorway. The thought of Ian cheating on her alone makes him furious and he has to shake it off so he can do what he came here to do. The sooner he got what she needed, the sooner he could go home to her.

He pulls a suitcase out from under the bedframe, her predictability - at least to him - enough to pull a small smile from him despite the circumstances. He makes quick work of packing her bag, making sure he’s as respectful as he possible as he packs underwear for her, shame chasing the pull in his gut as he tries to ignore something particularly lacey. She’d asked for things that were comfortable to wear, so he makes sure to get sweatpants and sweaters as well as pjyamas. He pauses as his finger catches something solid in amongst her clothes, and he frowns as he pulls out a photo frame that had been tucked up between pairs of leggings. 

His breath catches in his throat when he’s met with a picture of the two of them from her 21st birthday, his arm is around her shoulders and she’s leaning into him with a smile as wide as his. He bought her the first legal beer she’d ever had that night. He’d made a big deal of it, something that had made her roll her eyes at him as they stood in the bar next to each other, their friends all around them as they celebrated her birthday. It felt like a lifetime had passed, not just a little over 3 years, since that picture was taken and it makes him ache. A moment of his cowardice frozen in time behind glass, a reminder that he should have just kissed her that night like he wanted to, and how different things would have been if he had. He wouldn’t be heartbroken over breaking up with Haley again, and Emily wouldn’t be recovering from what Ian had done to her. 

Aaron places the picture in the suitcase too, hoping that the memory of a better time - of a time before Ian and before everything got so complicated - would be the boost she needed. 

He steps out into the hallway and exchanges a nod with the officers at the door again before he starts to head towards the front of the building, but he’s stopped as an older man walks out of the apartment next to Emily’s.

“Excuse me, are you Agent Hotchner?” 

He furrows his brow and nods, “Yes,” he says, looking the other man up and down, “And who are you?”

“I’m Dave Rossi,” he says, offering out his hand, “I’m Emily’s next door neighbour.” 

Aaron looks down at his hand and then shakes it, “Nice to meet you,” he says, “How did you know my name?” 

“The uh…the walls are thin,” Dave replies, “I heard you talking to the detective,” he clears his throat, “I’ve…heard a lot of things.” 

Aaron clenches his jaw, “You’re the one who called the cops?” 

Dave nods, “If I was quicker on my feet like I was when I was your age, I would have caught the son of a bitch when he ran for it. But I wanted to make sure she was okay,” he pauses, genuine concern flashing in his eyes, “Is she…okay?” 

“She’s as okay as she can be,” Aaron replies, not giving away any more than he knew Emily would want him to, “She’s staying with me for now. At least until he’s caught.”

He doesn’t say what he can’t even admit to himself, that he wants her to stay regardless. He’s gotten used to her being around, being in his life again, and he didn’t want to lose her. 

“Good. She’s a good kid,” he says, smiling to himself, “She always tells me off for calling her a kid - told me she’s almost in her mid-twenties last time I did that.” 

Aaron laughs, “That sounds like Emily.” 

Dave smiles and then it fades, “You’ll look after her, right?” 

“I will,” Aaron replies, “Although, we should keep that between ourselves. She doesn’t really need looking after,” he clears his throat and looks at his watch, “I should get back home. I’ll tell her you were asking after her.” 

Dave nods his thanks and turns to go back into his apartment before he looks at Aaron again, “I’m glad she has someone looking out for her,” he says, “Even if she thinks she doesn’t need it.” 

Aaron nods and offers out his hand, squeezing Dave’s as he shakes it again, trying to press everything he can’t say into it - his thanks for looking out for Emily when he couldn’t, for being a friend when she couldn’t, and wouldn’t, let him be one. 

Dave nods at him as he lets go of his hand and they exchange a smile before Aaron turns to leave, determined to get back to the woman he would do anything for. Even if it meant breaking the rules.

___

She hates that she’s anxious. Hates that being outside has her looking over her shoulder, and that she jumps at every little sound around them. She almost turns back, opens her mouth to tell Aaron that she wants to go back to his place, that she wants to go home, but she stops herself. Ian had already taken so much from her in the last few months. She didn’t want him to take this from her too, so she smiles at Aaron when he turns to look at her as they step into the Christmas market she hadn’t been to in years. 

“You okay, Em?”

She swallows thickly and nods, adjusting her scarf to ensure it covers the bruises and scratches on her neck. Her bruises were starting to fade, the purple of her skin slowly turning to a blueish-green. She’s glad its winter, that she can cover everything except for her black eye and split lip with her jacket and her scarf. It was better than when Ian first started to get physical with her, when she had to wear a sweater in the middle of summer to cover fingerprint bruises on her arms. 

“I’m okay,” she says, smiling at him in a way they both know is fake. She clears her throat and looks away from him, her arms crossed over her chest as they head towards the Christmas trees, “Are you sure you’re ready to give me full reign to decorate your place?” 

“As long as the tree fits in my apartment and it makes you happy, I’m ready for you to do whatever you want.” 

She smiles properly this time, so widely that her cheeks ache with it, a bruise that feels like a phantom of Ian’s fist pulsating in a way she ignores, and she chuckles at him, “Careful, Aaron. You might be making promises you’ll regret later.” 

He knows he could never regret anything that made her smile like that, but he also knows he can’t tell her that. He doesn’t want to upset the delicate balance they’d created over the past week. In some ways it felt like they’d never stopped speaking, as if 6 months hadn’t passed in between two phone calls from her that had changed their friendship. In other ways, he felt every moment. Felt every day they hadn’t spoken hanging between them. All the things they were yet to say thick and cloying in the air as neither one of them acknowledged that the only reason they didn’t end up curled around each other at night was because of the pillows placed between them. More than once he’d woken up to his arm over the pillows, his fingers skimming her side, the warmth of her skin inviting for a split second before he’d pull his hand back, desperate above all else that he didn’t cross any boundaries she didn’t want him to. 

“Oh, this one is beautiful,” she says, her eyes shining as she looks at the tree in front of her and reaches out for the label attached to one of the branches, “6ft, nordic pine,” she turns to look at him, “Your place will smell amazing.” 

He stands next to her and looks the tree up and down, “Don’t you think it’s a bit big?” 

She looks up at him and rolls her eyes when she spots the mischief in his, “It’s shorter than you are,” she quips, and then she looks at the tree again, “I don’t know if we should go for the first one we see though,” she feels the anxiety start to return, how it catches on her cracked ribs as shes, memories of being told no one cared weighing down on her until she struggles to breathe. She swallows thickly, “But we should just take it-”

“Em,” he says, reaching out to touch her arm, squeezing reassuringly before he drops his hand back down, “Take all the time you want. This is important,” he offers her a half smile, “It’s the first tree in my new place.” 

She beams at him and sinks her teeth into her lower lip in an attempt to contain it. They wander between the rows of trees and she stops every now and again to inspect one she settles on the first one they saw. He doesn’t joke about it, doesn’t make a comment about how they’d spent 20 minutes looking at trees just to go for the first one, because he knows how important this is to her. He reaches into his pocket to pull out his wallet but she stops him, her eyebrow raised as she puts her hand on his arm. 

“You won’t let me pay for groceries or anything towards your bills,” she says, “I’m buying the tree. And all the decorations.” 

He wants to argue, but stops himself, simply nodding as he gives in. They approach the assistant they’d seen helping out other people, her pink elf hat and matching frames on her glasses making her stand out in the crowd. They walk over to her, and Emily sees the moment she sees them, how she frowns as she looks back and forth between the two of them before she fixes a smile on her face. 

“Hi, my name is Penelope and I am here to help with all of your Christmas tree needs.” 

“Hi,” Emily says, her lips pressed together as Penelope looks at her, suddenly more self-conscious about her bruised face, “We want to purchase that one,” she says, pointing behind her, “The 6ft Nordic pine.” 

She smiles tightly and looks at Penelope, “Why don’t you go pull the car around to the collection area whilst we sort out the payment?” 

“Okay,” he says, turning to Emily, “Will you be okay?” 

She opens her mouth to respond but is cut off by Penelope, “She’ll be fine.” 

Aaron furrows his brow and waits for Emily to nod her agreement, a flash of amusement in her eyes over the other woman’s behaviour, and he turns to leave. 

Emily smiles as she turns back to Penelope, “So, I have the cash-”

“Ma’am, do you need help?” 

She chuckles nervously, clearing her throat as she pushes her hands into her jacket pocket, “I need help buying a tree.” 

Penelope sighs and looks at her black eye before her gaze drifts down to her split lip, “Do you need help getting away from the man you’re with?” 

Emily feels her throat tighten at the realisation, warmth burning through all of the bruises Penelope could see and the ones hidden by her clothes, “Oh, no that’s not-”

“Because I can stay with you until the cops get here, if we call them and-”

“No,” she says, firmer than she means to be, “It’s not…” she trails off, not wanting to explain everything to a stranger, but not wanting her to think Aaron had done this either, “He’s my friend. He’s not…it wasn’t him.” 

Penelope stares at her for a moment before she relents, her smile slipping back to the bright one Emily had watched her give with every other customer. “You said you’re paying with cash?” 

Once the tree is secure on top of his car, Penelope’s attitude markedly different towards him as she helps them, they go to buy decorations. He doesn’t let Emily help him carry anything into his apartment when they get back, and after she argues - even though she knows she won’t actually be able to lift anything because of her ribs - she sits on the couch and watches him, smiling mischievously as he wrestles with the lights before he gets them on the tree. She takes over when he’s done, falling easily into the role of organising the decorations like she always had. They weren’t her decorations, they were still somewhere in her apartment, some of them broken by Ian last Christmas, his anger taken out on ornaments her grandfather had bought her just months before he’d started to hit her, and she takes her time to run her fingers over the new ones. To study them before she finds the perfect place for them on the tree as she tries to tell herself that starting again could have beauty in it. 

Aaron helps her by handing her ornaments and he eventually attempts to place one on the tree himself before he inevitably corrects him.

“That one doesn’t go there,” she says, no malice in her voice and a sparkle in her eyes he couldn’t have imagined seeing again when he saw her in the hospital. 

He sighs good naturedly as he turns to look at Emily, his eyebrow raised as he passes her her ornament in his hand, “I don’t know why you even let me try.” 

She hums as she takes the decoration from him, smiling softly as his fingers skim over hers, and she turns to the tree, “I know you like to be involved.” 

He laughs and looks around his apartment, and he finds himself struck by how much more it felt like home already, how everything they’d done to decorate for the holidays had taken away from the feeling that the place wasn’t his yet that had lingered since he’d moved in. The warm glow of the lights they’d strung around the tree made it feel cosier. The ornaments Emily had insisted on in the store on the mantle next to the Advent wreath made it feel less empty, less touched by his life. 

Most of all, he thinks it has everything to do with her. 

He sits down on the couch and watches her as she stands back to look at the tree, her head tilted and her teeth sinking into her lower lip, “What do you think?” 

He smiles, his gaze drifting from her to the tree, “I think it’s perfect.” 

She pulls the sleeves of her sweater down past her hands and sinks onto the couch, her eyes fixed on the tree the whole time, “I think so too,” she smiles as she turns to look at him, “Thank you.” 

He shrugs, “You bought it all.” 

She rolls her eyes at him, “Thank you for letting me do this,” she says, turning back to look at the tree, “I know Christmas has always been my favourite, not yours. So I appreciate it.” 

“I’d do anything for you, Em,” he says, “You know that.” 

“I know,” she replies, her focus on her thumb as she picks at her cuticles, her throat stuffed full of everything she wants to say but can’t. She still hadn’t told him all of it, hadn’t gone into any detail about those last few months with Ian, and she wasn’t sure if she should, or if she even wanted to. She smiles as she looks back at Aaron, “I’d do anything for you too.” 

They sit in silence for a while, both of them looking at the tree, their focus on the soft lights and the decorations she’d meticulously placed, before he offers to make dinner. They eat together, content to sit next to each other as they watch a Christmas movie they’ve seen together countless times before, both of them imagining a life where they had this all the time.

___

She can’t breathe. 

She’d always felt suffocated. Her lungs stuffed full of everything everyone had ever expected of her until she couldn’t breathe.

This is different. She struggles as she tries to loosen the hands around her throat, barely feeling the burn of her own nails against her skin as she grasps at Ian, desperate for him to let go.

She can’t breathe. 

“Ian-”

“You think you can leave me, love?” He seethes, squeezing her throat even tighter, “You’re mine.”  

She can smell whiskey and smoke and the overly sweet perfume of the woman he’d had in their bed, and it catches in the back of her throat. Makes nausea roll in her gut as her vision starts to blur at the corners. She tries to say something, anything, tries to say she won’t leave even though she wants to because she can’t leave him if she’s dead. 

“Emily.” 

She blinks, desperate to clear her vision, her grasp on his hands getting more desperate as she hears a loud knocking on the door, Dave’s voice morphing into Aaron’s as her eyes drift closed.

“Emily.” 

___

She sits up, sucking in a breath as her hand flies to her throat, her chest shuddering as she presses against her bruised skin. She tries to catch her breath, the smell of Ian’s breath still lingering as she tries to shake off the remnants of her dream. 

“Em?” 

She flinches before she can stop herself, moving further away from Aaron as she turns to look at him, her eyes wide as she keeps her hand pressed against her throat. She doesn’t register the flash of pain in his eyes, the way his shoulders tighten for a moment when she reacts like she’s afraid of him, “Aaron?” 

“Yeah,” he assures her, “It’s me. Just me. You’re safe. I promise.” 

She nods as she blows out a slow breath, ignoring how it shudders in her chest, catching on her cracked ribs as it pushes past her lips, “Just us.” 

“Yeah,” he repeats, smiling reassuring as she looks at him, “It’s just us.”

Her face crumbles as she leans forward, her forehead against her knees as she cries, “I’m sorry.” 

“Oh, Em,” he says, reaching out for her before he stops himself, his fingers stopping just short of her arm, “You have nothing to be sorry for.” 

She rests her temple against her knees and turns to look at him. He was right next to her, but so far away. The gap between them not just the pillows they’d slept with in between them for well over a week now, but one she’d created in an attempt to protect him. Her lips tremble as their eyes meet and she tilts her head towards his chest, “Can I…” 

She doesn’t need to finish asking. He’s already moving the pillows, throwing them to the floor before he gathers her to his chest. He closes his eyes as she cries even harder, holding her against him like he’d wanted to for much longer than he cared to admit. He rests his cheek against the top of her head and runs his fingers through her hair.

“I’ve got you sweet…I’ve got you Em.” 

She grasps his arm, her fingers digging in, his muscles rippling beneath his skin as she tries to anchor onto something other than the memory of Ian’s touch. She focuses on Aaron instead, how carefully he’s holding her, how she feels safe even in his fierce embrace. She slowly calms down, her face against his chest as she breathes him in. 

Emily eventually pulls back, her eyes still shining, and he stops himself from reaching out to wipe the tears from her cheeks, not wanting to cross any boundaries she might not want him to. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She shakes her head fiercely, “No. Not…not right now.” 

“Okay,” he says, loosening his grip on her so she can shift back to her side of the bed, but she tightens her grip on his arm. He freezes, unsure how to proceed. Even before everything they’d never fallen asleep like this, had never crossed that line in their friendship, but he doesn’t allow himself to overthink it it too much. Instead, he nods and swallows thickly before he smiles at her, “Let’s lay down, okay?”

She nods and shuffles away enough for them to lie down, but she stays curled up against him, unable to tear herself away from him. She doesn’t look at him as she rests her head on his chest, his warmth spreading from his chest to hers as they settle back down. She closes her eyes but immediately opens them again, a flash of icy blue eyes and the smell of whiskey immediately overtaking her as soon as she does. 

“Can you talk?” She asks before she can stop herself, embarrassment burning in her cheeks as she presses her face further against his chest so she doesn’t have to look up at him, the bruises left behind by Ian soothed by the softness of Aaron’s t-shirt, “About anything? I just need…” she swallows thickly, “I need to not think about it.”

“Of course,” he says, his cheek against the top of her head so he doesn’t press a kiss there instead. He wonders if she can hear how fast his heart is beating as he blows out a slow breath in an attempt to slow it down, “Did I tell you about the kid we consulted with this week?” 

“Kid? You’re starting to sound like Dave,” She jokes, and shakes her head at him, swallowing thickly as she tries to hide a shiver as he runs a hand up and down her back, “No, you didn’t tell me.”

“Dr Reid. He’s really smart, has several doctorates and has a photographic memory. But he looks about 12.” 

She chuckles, the sound a little empty as it passes from her chest into his, “Are you sure you’re not just getting old.” 

“I’m only 30,” he replies, his smile fading when she tenses against him because she’d missed his 30th birthday, and he clears his throat, “I swear at one point he might as well have been speaking Russian to me or something with everything he was saying about behavioural analysis.”

“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” she mumbles, tracing patterns on his shirt unaware she’d even spoken until he replies. 

“Do what?” 

“Talk down to yourself,” she tilts her head up to finally look at him, “You’re smart. And kind and…” she drifts off before she can say something she shouldn’t, her lips pressed together as she captures any other thought she has about him on her tongue, “You shouldn’t talk down to yourself.”

He smiles and his hand falters on her back for a moment before he nods. She’d been one of the few people to believe in him in the way she did. She’d helped him through law school and the bar by sitting with him as he studied. Keeping him topped up with food and water and no small amount of confidence boosts. With her by his side, nothing ever felt like it was out of reach. 

Nothing, except for her. 

“Okay, I’ll try not to in future.” 

“Good,” she says, smiling softly before she rests her head against his chest again, “Now tell me more about this kid.”

When they wake up in the morning, neither one of them aware of when they’d fallen asleep, they are curled around each other like vines. Held in place by everything they wanted, and were equally convinced they couldn’t have. 

___

“What’s the theme of the candle this week?” Aaron asks, his eyes filled with curiosity as she lights the first candle again before she turns to look at him.

“Peace,” she says, smiling at the thought of it, warm memories of her parents and one of the few things that had just been for her and them as she turns back to look at the candles, “It’s also called the Bethlehem candle.” 

He hums, “Why is only one of them pink?” 

She opens her mouth to answer, and she furrows her brows, “I actually don’t remember,” she says, narrowing her eyes when he laughs at her, “Give me a break, I haven’t been to church in almost a decade.” 

He holds his hand up in mock surrender and tilts his head towards the wreath, “Let's light it, and then I’ll make us some hot chocolates.” 

“You are going to have to stop waiting on me at some point you know,” she says, smiling fondly at him before she flicks the switch on the lighter, “I can do some things for myself.”

“Maybe next week,” he says, smiling as she lights the second candle, the flicker of the flame dancing in her eyes as she watches it. His phone rings from the kitchen counter and he sighs as he goes to pick it up, “I hope that’s not work.” 

“Me too,” she replies, tearing her gaze away from the candles, “Otherwise how would I ever feed myself.” 

He shakes his head at her sarcasm and answers his phone, “Agent Hotcher.”

“It’s Detective Morgan.” 

Aaron looks over at Emily, “Detective Morgan,” he says, watching as her eyes go wide, the happiness that had been shining in them disappearing in a moment. He walks over and offers her his hand and squeezes hers the moment she links their fingers together, “Is everything okay?” 

“Yes, everything is fine. More than fine actually - we’ve got him.” 

He sighs in relief and looks at Emily, “You’ve got him?” 

Her shoulders slump with the relief, her body shifting forward of its own accord as a weight is lifted off her shoulders. She sinks against him, her arms wrapped tight around his back as she mutters against his shirt, “They’ve got him.” 

“I’ll come and see Miss Prentiss tomorrow to go over everything,” Detective Morgan says, “But I thought I’d save her another sleepless night and let you know as soon as possible.” 

“Thank you,” Aaron says, his eyes drifting closed as he hugs Emily back, not stopping himself this time when he drops a kiss to the top of her head, “We’ll see you tomorrow.” 

He drops his phone the moment the call is over, not caring as it hits the floor so he can hug her properly, both of his arms around her as she digs her fingers into his back. 

“They’ve got him,” she breathes out, tears shining in her eyes as she shakes her head, “I…I can’t believe it.” 

“You’re safe now,” he says, even though he knows it’s not that simple. There would be a trial and Ian could get bail before then. But Aaron would make sure she was safe. He would make sure Ian could never legally get close to her again, even if it meant breaking the rules and putting his career on the line. “He can’t hurt you again.”

She nods, choking on a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob and she rests her head on Aaron’s shoulder. Her gaze drifts to the candles on the mantle, and she sucks in what feels like her first deep breath in almost two weeks. 

“Yeah,” she says, “I’m safe now.” 

[darling-keoko]

Nb!reader x Hisoka.

Warnings; fluff, small mentions of blood and murder, he stole something ig... And... Yappa yappa.

I made NB! Reader a bit arrogant.

Hisoka is a very... What's the word?.... Odd.... Individual. It's amazing how you out of all people fell for this perver— I mean... Mentally unstable living being.

You two hit it off quickly because of your interests. He knew a lot about you but you didn't know a shit diddly squat about him.

The first time you and Hisoka met was when you were fighting another nen user. You were strong he must admit... But not to good at fighting, but had potential.

Hisoka had no intention of falling for you but it happened, he never thought he would fall for someone as self reserved as you. But he liked it...

Your relationship with him was never boring. You two might've fought a lot but Hisoka always used to come back with something you loved and then you would forgive him.

You and him had basically the same occupation but you were an assassin. You dont like to get your hands dirty so you always chosed to be an distraction more than a murderer.

Until he came around. Well... your still just an distraction and you let Hisoka could do the murdering but who's complaining.

You were in the mist of battle until something hooked onto your arm. You couldn't see what it was but it was oddly strong and stretchy. It left you open enough so the opponent had a chance to hit you in the face.

You quickly blocked your face with the arm that was stuck into something or something was stuck on your arm. You punched the person back, taking a few steps away from him before calling the battle off.

"Hah... Hah... " you panted, exhausted from the battle. "Nice blocking there." The person whom you was fighting was no only than your 'master'. He was an old man who nen abilities that was somewhat acceptable. He can become an hunter if he wanted to.

"Thanks..." You simply said before walking away and sitting down near a tree stump in the forest. You've never understood why your 'master' like training in the forest so much... There's literally gyms where you can train your fighting skills and nen.

You closed your eyes, leaning on the tree stump, resting. You sensed a presence but didn't pay too much attention to it thinking it was a squirrel or something like that. "Oh, look who we have here."

You opened your eyes to see a pink haired man in front of you with blood all over him... Hisoka... "Did you kill him?" You asked, closing your eyes back again. "Yes, it was fairly easy... No fun at all." you kissed your teeth in annoyance. "That bastard almost punched me in my beautiful face... Thanks to you using the gummy... Bungy... Thingy.."

Hisoka smirked at your clear annoyance. "Too bad... You would've looked better with a bruise on your face, Darling." You cocked your eyebrow up, "I always look good, excuse you." He simply chuckled at your arrogance. "Well... Can't argue with that can i?" You held out your hand using your nen conjurer abilities to create a small pocket mirror.

You made sure that there were no bruises on your face before making the mirror disappear. "Treat me for dinner." You basically commanded Hisoka. "Hm... Maybe later...i have something important to do." You scoff at his answer. "Hisoka, watching that child, Gon, isn't better than spending time with your lover."

You conjured a brush and started brushing your hair to get ready for your date. By the time you were finished Hisoka already was gone. "Hisoka I'm—" that goddamn bitch..." You stood up brushing off your clothes before heading back to your apartment .

11:37pm

Hisoka enters your apartment just to relax for a second, he turned on the lights to be greeted by you watching television. "Get out." You were sitting in the living room, watching the news... It was an old channel that wasn't posting anything new but it was still up.

"Cmon, darling... It's so useless to be mad at me... It makes me want you more." You ignored Hisoka advances.

He let's out an deep sigh, brushing his fingers through his hair before going back to his usual demeanor. "I found something that reminded me of you." He pulls out a beautiful pearl necklace that looked fairly expensive. Your eyes glowed at the beautiful thing, it was well polish.

"Oh, how I can stay mad at you forever, baby." You immediately stood up, walking over to him and giving him a hug. He smelled like deceased bodies and blood. You grabbed the pearl necklace, admiring it in your hands. You go over to the standing mirror you had right next to the door. "Hisoka! Help me put it on, don't stand there and be useless."

Hisoka helped you put on the pearl necklace... It fitted perfectly and it matched you perfectly. It looked so beautiful on you that you almost went cried. "Hisoka, it's so beautiful." Hisoka looked at you in the mirror, making direct eye contact. "Uh... Stop looking at me with those eyes...." Hisoka chuckled into your ear, "I like you too, Y/n"

Your cheeks turned a bright pink tint. "S-shut up... But thanks." Your hand rested against the pearl necklace on your neck. "Where did you get this from?" Hisoka rested his head on your shoulder. "Why worry about that?... Just know that you look beautiful in it." You sighed knowing that he definitely either stole it... Or killed some random rich lady and gave you her pearl necklace.

"If this is your apology, I'll accept it." You puffed out your cheeks, looking up at him. "You would've begged me to come back, anyway." You flicked his nose, "No... Try this again next time and I'm killing you."

A/n: I'm doing the Tokki story first and you might see some of my characters in the story. Her first story takes place in highschool. And also if you want a smutty part 2 of this little Hisoka x NBReader then just say so tbh, and if you want me to actually do another gender for nb!reader I will, I could even make it into a series.