#mothers and fathers losing their parents children and siblings all at once

[mossboys]

on a completely different note the grief is never ending, constant, world stopping

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

These Tender Hearts Beat as One

Aemond x widowed!female character

Summary: Aemond reunites with his childhood friend, a former ward of his mother || Word Count: 7k || Warnings: too much fucking backstory lol, p in v sex, breeding kink

Aemond could always tell when his mother was stressed. Out of all her silver-haired children, her second son had seemed the most adept at knowing before she even knew herself. All that remained was for him to discover the root of her worries, and calm her ever-heightening nerves if he could.

When Aemond was stressed, angered or oftentimes merely bored, nothing truly compared to the feeling of riding Vhagar, splitting through the air above King’s Landing to stretch her large, tattered wings. His beloved dragon appreciated the exercise in any case, restless from her days fought in wars, it was some consolation for him that flying was just as therapeutic for her as it was for him.

But when his dear mother was stressed, it was rooted in self-destruction, picking ceaselessly at her fingernails ‘til they were bloody and sore. And though he bit his tongue, not wishing to replicate the behaviour of his grandfather, sometimes it felt near impossible not to say anything, not to ask what was on her mind. So that whatever was swirling around her head with panic, could instead be shared out, and therefore less weight for her to carry.

Had Aegon done something perhaps?

Was there more trouble with Rhaenyra?

Or perhaps his father had said something to upset her, which seemed the most likely. Even in his sickly state, he was still capable of unknowing cruelty.

Even at five and ten, Aemond understood this.

His mother remained quiet, and it was not ‘til he sought out the company of his dear friend, that the truth became clear.

She had been his mother’s ward for little more than three years, and already Aemond had witnessed her enter the Keep as a clumsy, loud child and blossom into what many would consider a young woman already grown, though she was little older than Helaena. 

Her age in comparison to him had never once strained their friendship. In fact, at first, when Aemond was still freshly scarred emotionally by the trauma of losing his eye, he had remembered clapping his lone eye on her and scowling, thinking of her little more than a quarrelsome child. 

And, as Aegon had put it, ‘aggressively annoying’.

Which, at the time, was true enough. And yet it did not deter her from trying, Aemond would allow her the compliment of that.

She was much like him, a child created and born as a sort of secondary plan in case the first did not come to pass. A mere second daughter, and not only that, but bumped even further down the chain by her three older brothers, the eldest already wed with several children of his own. It was made abundantly clear by her own parents that she was merely another nuisance and therefore when placed into the care of the Targaryen royal family, the look of relief on their faces somewhat angered him, coupled by the manner in which they left with a goodbye that rivalled his own father’s attitude towards his children.

His empathy for her situation had drawn him to her, despite his stubbornness in wanting to pretend he did not crave friendship, especially from a girl. And her own stubbornness surprised him when he discovered she did not blindly seek the acceptance of any similar-aged child, she set her sights on Aemond alone and did not relent until eventually, he came to her instead.

He found a camaraderie with her that he had yet to find with his other siblings, feeling very much like friendship with her was more natural and spontaneous, where the ones with his family were calculated, planned and rooted in a cold necessity to keep up appearances. 

Not that she cared much for appearances. 

Her Septa berated her for what seemed like every other day for turning up to her needlepoint lessons with dirtied skirts and stray petals in her tangled hair, all from chasing one another through the bushes of the Keep to find some entertainment. Yet, even in the face of punishment, her smile never faltered, and insisted that it was all a bit of fun.

She somehow managed to inject her bright personality into his otherwise darkened life.

Because of her, there was beauty in everything. There was serenity in sitting in the Godswood and watching the petals settle in the breeze that ran past his neck and made him shiver. There was a startling allure when he introduced her to Vhagar for the first time and her hand ran across her darkened scales, seeing her expression lift in sheer wonder, experiencing her bewilderment as if it were the first time. And there was virtue in the innocence of their relationship, and how his heart began to swell with a childlike sense of belonging in her.

The unconditional power of her friendship he was sure was all he ever needed. In the way she always uttered, dragged away for her lessons in etiquette, but beaming at him.

‘My friendship is always yours,’ she would say, like a mantra.

‘Just as mine shall always be.’

He thought for a long while that he was the most hideous person in this world, not least since Aegon had dragged him to the brothels only a few years before. And yet when he shared a chaste kiss with her under the Weirwood tree. Clumsy and impractical and yet all magical all at once, he thought that when he was older, stronger, he would ask her to be his wife.

Aemond could feel the anxiety seeping off her as soon as he stepped into her chambers. Like she had a lot on her mind but not the courage to open her mouth and say it.

“What is it?”

His heart lurched into his chest when she lifted her head, swallowing her feelings and taking a deep, shaky breath.

“My sister has succumbed to a fever. She is dead.”

Aemond sighed, as if absorbing her grief. But when he took one step forward to comfort his friend, she shook her head, “there is more.”

Her tone of voice alone was enough to set every nerve on edge. Aemond stood as if stuck to the flagstone floor, and realised that the once clumsy, small girl he had once known was acting very much like a young woman now. Worlds apart, despite being stood before her.

“I am to honour the planned betrothal with Lord Lefford, under my father’s orders.”

It was the only moment Aemond remembered wanting to vomit with nausea, he had not felt such churning in his gut even on the day he lost his eye.

She sat, looking at him as if to gauge his reaction to the news, knowing perhaps in her own heart the feelings that were shared between them. And Aemond felt his churning nausea turn to anger, at how easily she had allowed her will to be broken by a command from her father, which in his opinion, she need not obey. She was, after all, a near half a decade younger than her sister, and the man in question older than her own father.

How could she have given up like this so easily.

“You will go through with this?”

He did not mean for his tone of voice to appear accusatory, but when he saw that wide-eyed helpless expression, he knew immediately it had.

“I can hardly argue with my father, Aemond.”

He felt his fists clench hard in his hand, fingernails creating crescent shaped indents in his flesh that reddened, his reply is stiff, “you simply act as if you have no choice in the matter.”

“Not all of us get one.”

“You cannot leave.”

“I must,” she insists, her voice breaking somewhat at the look of disappointment and betrayal on his face, “please do not make this more difficult than it already is, Aemond.”

“I am not the one making this difficult,” he replies flatly, his head throbbing with an incoming migraine, “If you are as much my friend as I am yours, you will not leave me.”

She could feel herself stepping towards him, drawn by some invisible force for comfort that he was not yet providing. She knew he could be capable of being cruel, but to be on the receiving end after all they had gone through was heart-breaking.

And though she was a year his senior, standing so small before him, she felt so much a child.

“Aemond, please-” she begged, reaching out for him and wincing when he pulled away, his brows drawn together in disgust.

“Marry him and I shall never speak to you again.”

Her hand dropped to her side as if limp, as if all life had drained from her body as well as the colour from her face. Her lip quivered, “you can't mean that.”

He looked in her eyes, the raw grief of watching her slip away filling him with an unmistakable bitterness, though for what? Her? Himself? Their friendship? He could not put it into words.

“I mean every word.”

That is the last memory he has of her, looking every bit as broken as he'd intended her to feel. In the days that followed, as her family arrived once more to steal her away, Aemond felt the gnawing grip of regret when he chose not to see her off at the courtyard, watching from his window as she scanned the space around for her good friend's presence and didn't find it.

It was then Aemond began to hate himself for every bit of cruelty enacted against her from him. Her carriage disappeared into the distance until it was nothing, leaving a pit of pain in his heart.

Not a day passed that Aemond did not at least think of her and wait for any correspondence to arrive, with his name etched into the paper in her curved, feminine handwriting.

But as he'd feared, she had taken his words to heart, and no letter ever arrived, and eventually, it felt no use counting the days and moons since he'd last seen her.

The guilt would eat away at him for years, the memory of her pained expression etched into his vision. Even as he grew into a man, it would never fully fade, though he was quick to tell himself that he shouldn’t care, that she was no longer the same girl he had loved so much, not since she chose her own fate.

In an attempt to fill the hole she'd left behind, he busied himself with the sword, intent with some level of obsession at becoming the most skilled swordsman in Westeros. 

Aemond would train for hours at a time, the dull ache deep within him pushed away by the strain of sparring drills and intense workouts with the sword. Though even in the midst of training, his thoughts would always be in the back of his mind, taunting him with the guilt that he felt, the shame of how he had treated her at the end.

By itself, it was not enough, but even burying his nose in books did not blur that heavy ache. But it did not mean he could not at least try.

Which is why he sighed in annoyance as he sat by the fireplace in his chambers, a large tome opened in his lap and two knocks rapped at the door.

“Enter.”

He did not tear his attention away as the maidservant entered with a short and quick curtsy, hands clasped, “Your grace, Queen Alicent has requested your presence.”

That alone was enough to draw his attention away from his reading. His mother did not request him for a small matter.

He had wondered if perhaps Aegon had managed to slip out of the Keep again, for yet another one of his excursions into Flea Bottom, and send him to retrieve his brother.

Perhaps his mother finally thought enough time had passed and he was much of a man to suggest a marriage proposal. For some reason, the thought made him ill.

“Thank you, Ser Criston,” he heard his mother say in a muffled tone once he was announced.

Aemond raised his gaze to his mother, relieved to see her calm, and dare he say, happy.

“Aemond,” she greeted softly, her smile gentle and her touch on his arms comforting, “do not look so forlorn.”

“You wished to see me.”

“I did,” Alicent beamed, clasping her hands at her front, “Come.”

He could not help but give a puzzled expression as he walked beside his mother through the winding halls of the Keep, wondering perhaps why her behaviour was so different than usual. A sort of anxiety fed through her, but not the self-destructive kind. 

“We are to receive some guests today. I would like you to greet them.”

Aemond quirked a brow, confused and somewhat annoyed in equal measure, “I am not accustomed to greeting-”

“They have travelled a long way, so remember to be courteous,” Alicent added, flashing one of her tight-lipped smiles, which only served to confuse Aemond further. His mother led him to the top of the staircase of the empty, echoing foyer and instructed quickly, “do be a gracious host, Aemond.”

He did not have a mere moment to question her, before he was watching the back of his mother disappear down the very same hallway they had just walked together. All he managed was a baffled shake of his head, as if by some miracle this was all some mad dream he had conjured. He questioned why on earth his mother would allow him to greet these esteemed guests alone, out of all her antisocial children.

But ever dutiful, he descended the stairs, hearing the low voice of Ser Westerling greeting whomever was arriving in a warm, formal tone, with their silhouettes casting blurred shadows onto the flagstone floor. Aemond’s feet were planted firmly on the step without even realising it.

This esteemed guest was no stranger to him.

Though the years had matured her gracefully, Aemond is sure he would recognise her anywhere, as she looked every bit the same as that day he regretted seeing her carriage leave King’s Landing. She stood tall, her cape fastened at her front with her house crest nestled in the middle, her dark skirts framing her womanly figure as her eyes trailed the details of the Keep that had changed since she had last been there.

Aemond stared wordlessly, the emotions so long buried resurfacing as if they had never left. His breath felt hot, his mind struggling to accept what his lone eye beheld before him. That she was here after so many years separated, in the very flesh, and yet he was unable to utter a single word.

She wandered about the space, commenting to the young woman beside her, who carried a child no older than three in her arms, how it had all looked so much larger in her youth. So he took this moment where she had not yet noticed him to look upon her with wonder, frozen entirely in place with the unexpectedness of her return. His mind raced with the thoughts of what this meeting could mean, for him, for her, and for their future; and he could not deny the strong tug of guilt in his chest for how he had treated her all those years ago, and how her renewed presence only made them more real.

Clearing his throat as he approached, the lady beside her noticed him first, “Prince Aemond,” she greeted with a curtsy, prompting her also to lay her eyes on him once more.

“Your grace,” she smiled warmly with a quick curtsy, with such a formality that made his heart ache.

He craned his head to bow lightly at her, “My Lady,” he replied with some stiffness, before gazing once more into her friendly, soft eyes and allowing his shoulders to relax, “I wondered perhaps if you would recognise me.”

Her laugh made his stomach flip, “I do not think I could ever forget you. Though I must confess, I wondered the same for myself.”

Her smile could not be described as anything less than perfect and a feeling that he harboured for her so long ago began to creep back in before he could stop it, “my Lady, I must apologise right away.”

But she shook her head, looking down at her hands, “it was a long time ago.”

He did not wish to upset her further by mentioning such an incident that had harmed his pride since, but knew that her memories of it were just as vivid as his own, “And I have not forgotten. You did what was expected for a lady in your position, and yet I was too selfish to understand that at the time. Please forgive me.”

He could not take the desperation out his tone, no matter how hard he tried. And still, she smiled sadly at his words.

“You must know that I did not wish to leave you.”

“I do,” he replied quickly, the memories of his guilt burning a hole in his throat, trying to hide the bitterness he felt towards himself, “I must confess - I have missed you greatly.”

Her hands clasped at her front, she blinked slowly and swallowed thickly, “I have missed you too.”

The silence stretched between them. Years of separation and longing had left them both yearning, but lacking the courage of knowing what to say. Aemond cleared his throat, his hands behind his back with anxiety, seeing that her ‘favoured’ husband was still not yet present.

“Are we to receive your husband as well?” he asked with some stiffness, or perhaps bitterness.

She cocked her head ever so slightly, eyebrows pulled together in confusion, until a small smile of realisation graced her features, “I regret to inform you I am recently widowed.”

In any other situation, Aemond would have been mortified at her reply. But with her smile came a rush of realisation himself, and hope swelled in his heart, and he shifted his weight from foot to foot, hoping to all the gods that she could not see the way his thought ran wild in his head, and made his breeches tighten, “Widowed-” 

“Indeed. I am sorry to disappoint you, my Prince. In truth, I have just come out of mourning,” she nodded, biting back another coy smile, showing in her mannerisms that it was no great loss to her.

“I am sorry for your loss, my Lady.”

She shook her head softly, “my husband left a suitable will, so that my child and I live comfortably and so there is no need for me to pursue future marriages should I not wish to.”

Her careful wording was not lost on him, and Aemond could not help the sense of glee at this new and recent change in her life, the bitter anger at having lost her to some decrepit old man years previous seemingly dissipating. And yet despite this, he attempted to keep it hidden, not wishing to seem disrespectful to her late husband.

“Might I present you my daughter,” she added, taking the child from the woman beside her into her own and resting the shy young girl on her hip. The child’s wide-eyed innocent expression unapologetically took all of Aemond in, as children often do, and he was reminded very much of his dear friend when she was small.

She was the image of her mother, save for the slightly lighter hair, with every feature of her etched into her daughter’s youthful face. And the reality of such similarities made him feel both joy and sorrow all at once.

“She is beautiful.” His voice was quiet, seeing the child in her arms was shy and reserved, unlike her mother, but thankful somewhat that her little one was not in the slightest alike to the man she had been forced to marry. Looking into the eyes of her child felt much like staring at the girl he once knew, and with that, a rush of affection.

Aemond thought, that in different circumstances, this child could have been theirs, a shared expression of their affections for one another. That all those years ago, had her father not coerced her into honouring her late sister’s betrothal, that she and Aemond would have their own children by now.

Before he could think too long, the small girl whined in her arms and she put her down immediately, the little patter of childish feet nearly had Aemond break into a grin, watching her run off with the nursemaid chasing behind.

“I am afraid she is a curious little thing. Like mother like daughter I suppose”, she smiled brightly.

Aemond nodded, the rush of memories bringing a wistful smile to his face, “Like mother like daughter,” was all he managed to reply, watching the mischievousness unfold. Yet, once the child and the nursemaid had left them alone, she chuckled softly, feeling his heartbeat slow in pace with hers.

“May I confess something to you, without fear of judgement?” Aemond asked, his heart thudding as she nodded in return, “You may think me foolish, but I must confess that my mind still lingers on the memories of our time together, and I have found no way to erase the feelings they carry with them - your return to King’s Landing has only reinforced them,” he confessed, looking into her warm gaze, “for now, when I look at you, I cannot help but feel just as I did then.”

He watched her swallow thickly, and take a deep, meaningful breath, like what she was going to say would be heavy, “and, what feelings are those, might I ask?”

His heart felt as it was beating so fast it was cracking his ribs, throat closing with anxiety. The feelings he had tried so hard to hide with a mask of bitterness now overflowing with terrifying intensity. Yet, to say such feelings out loud to her, someone he had trusted so much in his youth, made it feel all the more real. And as he stared into her eyes, he wanted nothing more than for her to share them, despite their years of absence from one another.

“That I love you - and have from the moment I met you.”

The words came out quickly, and as soon as he uttered them he felt his cheeks grow hot, knowing her response was either one way or the other and that he, a man so long disconnected from his own feelings, hiding them with his pride for so many years, was now opening up his vulnerability. 

He wanted her to love him. So desperately.

She sighed quietly in relief, “I have loved you as well. And I was saddened to have left you - and will forever be vehemently sorry for that.”

Though his relief was palpable, but he shook his head first, “You were right then, and always have been, that you had no choice or opinion in the matter. Therefore, I will accept no apologies.”

Her eyes glistened with emotion at his words, and when Aemond stepped forward and took her cheek in his palm, her breath hitched in such a way he was sure they would spill forth in tears. But the strong person she had always been, she held them back.

“I feared - you would not desire me,” she confessed quietly. 

Aemond smirked, “It may take more than a few years of separation to extinguish what was once there. I have loved you since that day beneath the Weirwood Tree, and I will love you until this life ends and the next one begins.”

She gave a watery smile at his sweet words, “though I have been wed once already with a child?”

He was silent for a moment as he considered her question, and not a bit of him even wondered whether it were possible, “my love is no fickle thing,” he smiled, “in time I hope I may become as close as a father to her as I may become a husband to you.”

He watched as her unshed tears formed a constellation on her eyelashes, but a relieved smile graced her delicate features. Aemond could not remember the last time he had been this close to her, able to detect the delicate scents brushed through her hair and the way her cheeks warmed at the close proximity between them, and undeniable tension.

The thought of kissing her, having her to himself, made something arousing tighten in his breeches, to his embarrassment.

He drew in a breath, leaning forward to capture her lips, but both drew back a pace suddenly.

“My Lady! Would you care to join us for supper this evening,” Alicent smiled brightly, as if knowing some great secret seeing them both stood straight and blushing. And she had to take a moment to think and stammer out her reply,

“Oh - yes, I would be delighted-”

“Wonderful! I shall see you to your chambers,” the Queen beamed, giving Aemond a sideways glance as the two women he most respected in life walked alongside one another.

He felt as if the entire evening was a true test of his will and determination. Aemond is certain Alicent meant no ill will by inviting the woman he unequivocally loved to supper with his family; but as he sat beside her, remembering how close he had been just a few hours before, it was almost as if everyone around him was aware and simply dangling the situation in front of his face.

And he cursed any god that existed that Aegon was not drowned in his cups that night, as he usually was. On this night, he was frustratingly lucid and hyper-aware.

Helaena, at first, was impartial to the sudden get-together, but as soon as she and Helaena saw one another, it was as if no time at all had passed. They were, of course, the same age when she had been his mother's ward, and as well as with Aemond, had formed a close friendship.

The princess was of course eager to catch up, and even invited her up to dance, to which she happily obliged as Aemond watched from his spot at the table. It was nice to see Helaena happy for a change.

A sorrowful thought had occurred to Aemond that both his friend and Helaena were pressured into marriages and motherhood far too young. And seeing them very much acting like young girls with one another, only exacerbated this feeling.

They talked quickly with excitement, planning to have their children meet up with one another and play in the gardens. And while they were engrossed in conversation, Aegon slid next to his brother, with a knowing smirk on his face.

“She is just as animated as I remember,” the young prince smirked, raising his eyebrows at Aemond over the rim of his cup.

“I will hear none of your depravity about her.”

Aegon threw him a faux-offended expression, “I had not even got there yet. Do you have such a low opinion of me?”

Aemond ignored him and sipped his own Dornish Red.

“You wish to marry her.”

“And you are perceptive.”

“Gods, I love it when you compliment me.”

“And insufferable.”

“What makes you think grandfather will allow you to marry her anyway? He's a dry old cunt, he will not care if you love her or not. He would have you wed to some plain-faced twat from who-knows-where.”

For one infuriatingly brief moment, Aemond had to concede that Aegon was probably right. And with one restless finger tapping against the table, he glanced over at his mother and grandfather suspiciously squished together on one end of the table, leaning towards each other and whispering in low voices, with Otto Hightower looking at his beloved friend from beneath his brow.

They were talking about her. Discussing her. And by the expression on his grandfather, analysing her.

Aemond felt his heart beat faster at the prospect that they were speaking so secretively about her without her knowledge. It seemed a stark contrast to the way the two women on the other side of the table were laughing and smiling brightly, something so rarely seen on Helaena’s face nowadays.

“She is no maiden, that is for certain. Though if you are lucky, perhaps only the first three inches of her have been tainted by Lefford’s withered old cock.”

Aemond wrinkled his nose at Aegon’s depraved quip, despite his somewhat polite request for him not too. Perhaps he’d expected too much courtesy from his elder brother. Or perhaps, more likely, with the exciting renewed presence of Lord Lefford’s widow, Aegon felt the need to perform, and exaggerate his usual unfortunate traits of his personality.

“‘Tis almost as worse as our dear sister being wed to me.”

“I am certain there is nothing worse than that,” Aemond replied quickly, behind the rim of his cup, failing to keep his gaze from forever drifting to the figure of her from across the candles and ornaments.

Aemond found himself captivated by the way she moved, the subtle grace in her gestures that spoke volumes of the woman she had become. Gone was the innocence of youth, replaced by a quiet strength and resilience that only seemed to enhance her beauty. He couldn't help but notice the way her laughter rang out like music, filling the room with warmth and light. It was a sound he had missed more than he cared to admit, a reminder of simpler times when they were just children with the world at their feet.

But now, as he watched her twirl across the dance floor with Helaena, there was something undeniably magnetic about her presence. It was as if she had blossomed into a flower, her petals unfurling to reveal a depth and complexity that left him breathless.

He attempted not to move too quickly once the festivities were over, afraid of showing her in his actions his desperation to be close to her as he offered his arm, “might I see you to your chambers, my Lady?”

She gave a shy smile that morphed into one of amusement, and Aemond is sure he felt something akin to that stomach-flipping sensation when he was flying out on Vhagar when her hand rested on the inside of his forearm, “Very well.”

Aemond chose to ignore the low snicker of his elder brother, showing him his back instead, with the woman he loved on his arm.

“You are aware I know this Keep better than I do my own home, and am perfectly capable of finding my chambers myself?” she said with a teasing lilt.

Aemond couldn't help but chuckle softly, the sound echoing in the empty corridor. "Forgive me, my Lady. It seems my chivalry gets the better of me in your presence."

Her laughter rang out, filling the silence with warmth. "Chivalry or a desire to prolong our conversation, Prince Aemond?"

He felt a surge of joy at the playful banter, grateful for the opportunity to spend even a few moments alone with her. "Perhaps a bit of both, my Lady. Though I must admit, the thought of your company is a temptation I find hard to resist."

She looked at her feet, as if to hide the rising warmth to her face, “I must confess, it is nice to once again be somewhere familiar, with the company I admire most. When my husband was alive it could often get rather lonely.”

Aemond fell quiet for a moment, swallowing thickly, trying to navigate his feelings in the midst of a difficult situation, “I hope that he was kind to you.”

She glanced up at him, her eyes revealing a depth of gratitude that stirred something within him. "He had his moments," she admitted with a small smile, "but kindness was not his strongest suit. Still, I suppose I cannot fault him entirely. He provided for me in his own way."

Aemond could sense the underlying weight in her words, the unspoken struggles she had endured beneath the facade of mere cordiality. He didn't need to ask to know that her late husband had been less than supportive.

"You deserve far more than just provision, my Lady," he said earnestly, his gaze unwavering as he spoke.

Aemond could almost feel his heart sink as he had realised they were stood before her chamber doors, her hand slipping from his arm, and yet a fire stoking fierce then at the thought of an invitation inside.

She clasped her hands delicately, her warm eyes meeting his with a gentle intensity. "I couldn't help but notice Queen Alicent and the Lord Hand engaged in such ceaseless conversation," she remarked, her voice soft and thoughtful. "I do not wish to presume—"

Aemond, catching the subtle implication in her words, swiftly interjected, "I cannot claim to know their exact sentiments." His gaze met hers, offering reassurance without a hint of desperation. "But I refuse to allow something as trivial as their approval to deter me. I've already endured the pain of losing you once."

There was a quiet determination in his voice, a resolve that mirrored the fire in her own eyes. In that moment, they shared an unspoken understanding, a mutual agreement to pursue their feelings despite the potential obstacles that lay ahead.

She nodded, a faint smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Your courage is admirable, Prince Aemond. But we must proceed cautiously. The court is a web of intricate politics, and our actions could have far-reaching consequences."

Her words were crafted in such a way that reminded him of her personality in their youth, understanding of the repercussions and yet boldly standing tall in the face of them. And with her small, mischievous smile, he knew all the same that whatever she uttered was only done so to extend her cordiality.

"I understand," he replied, his tone tinged with determination. "But I cannot ignore what my heart tells me."

"Nor can I," she admitted softly, her gaze meeting his with a mixture of vulnerability and resolve.

Silence settled between them for a moment, the weight of their unspoken desires hanging in the air. Then, with a subtle shift in her demeanour, she turned towards her chamber door. Without a word, she reached out and gently pushed it open, leaving it ajar. A silent invitation hung in the air, enticing Aemond to step inside.

Aemond's heart skipped a beat as he watched her gesture, his pulse quickening with anticipation. Without hesitation, he took a step forward, drawn irresistibly towards the open door and the promise of privacy within.

With a shared glance filled with unspoken understanding, Aemond turned towards her chamber doors, crossing the threshold into the privacy of her chambers, where their hearts could speak freely without the constraints of the outside world.

She spoke quietly, her face illuminated warmly by the soft flicker of candlelight. "I hope you do not think less of me for this," she murmured, her voice tinged with vulnerability. "You can imagine, for me there is no great ceremony in it."

Aemond's heart swelled with tenderness at her words, his gaze filled with an understanding that transcended mere words. "I could never think less of you," he replied softly, his voice brimming with sincerity.

Aemond slowly closed the distance between them, their expressions never wavering, his steps deliberate yet gentle. He reached out, his hand cupping her face tenderly, as he gazed into her eyes with an intensity that spoke of his deep affection. In that moment, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them suspended in a timeless embrace. The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows across their intertwined figures, bearing witness to the union of two souls bound together by love and longing.

Her lips parted to whisper, “I do not wish for you to do all of this out of guilt-”

She caught herself when his thumb traced her cheek, waiting for him to answer, “I do not make this bid out of remorse. I wish to be with you, and I wish to make you mine.”

Aside from the crackling heat of the fire within the hearth, her breath was all that was audible between them, coming heavier from between her lips as his thumb feathered down her cheek and to her bottom lip, caressing the skin there. After that, he felt her eyelashes against his cheek flutter when he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers with a tenderness usually unbecoming of his personality.

Years of longing had each of them pressing closer to each other, lost in the sound of their soft kisses, and Aemond felt his clothing below his waist become tight with need once he caressed her tongue with his and pried her lips apart like the petal of a flower and tasting the sweet nectar within.

Her hands that had found his shoulders slid over the sleek leather to his front, tenderly and gingerly pulling the buckles apart to loosen his doublet. Her actions, instead of spurring embarrassment, renewed a deep-rooted vigour beneath, and Aemond’s new task was to pull at the laces of her dress behind her, and pull the fabric that had hidden her body from him.

He felt her shiver, pulling the heavy dress from her shoulder to pool at her waist, pushing them as fervently off her as he was able, “was he at least good to you,” Aemond asked in a whisper, his breath hot at her neck while she pulled at the laces of his breeches. 

“I do not wish to speak of him,” she answered with determination and confidence, but a breathless, wanton whisper herself, wanting nothing more than to consummate years of harboured affections masked by friendship, “I only want you.”

Her words had his heart stutter in his chest, pulling her now almost bare form atop him as he sat back onto the bed, with her hair loosened like this and her shoulders blossoming with gooseflesh, he found that he was incapable of keeping his hands at his sides and explored the shape of her feminine body beneath the shift she wore. 

Even the sheer motion of her brushing against his hardened member and her breasts filling his palms could have been enough for Aemond, but there was no returning at this point. She sighed against his lips as his fingers dipped beneath the hem of her shift to ruck the thin fabric up around her hips, squeezing the flesh of her thighs to pull her closer onto his lap.

Warmth bloomed at her cheeks, but it did not deter her as she reached between them and smiled at Aemond’s loud moan, stroking his rapidly hardening length in her palm, focussing her attention towards the velvety tip. 

She lifted herself in his lap, fingers threaded at the hair at his nape as if to anchor herself to him, and both sighed with the utmost relief of their union once he pressed himself into her, and she sank her warmth onto him, enveloping him with her body. Her lips parted at the stretch, somewhat prepared and yet the intrusion still stealing the air from her lungs.

Foreheads pressed together, Aemond's hands gripped her at her waist, pushing his hips up into her as hard as he could to sink deeper inside her, “I have dreamt of this - for so long - being with you like this -” 

A faint sheen glimmered on her collarbones as she slowly moved her hips on him, Aemond's legs parted somewhat, widening hers and opening her up more so he could rock up into her with her rhythm. The closeness of their position had the blunt head of his cock massage that sensitive patch within, her eyebrows knitted together in sweet pleasure.

“That's it -” he cooed quietly, almost watching the way she moved with admiration and curiosity, her tight, silky walls squeezing his length with every thrust of herself down. He felt her arousal coat the base of him, and the sound of their ever-quickening coupling filled the otherwise quiet chambers.

She held onto his shoulders, the amber glow of the fireplace picturing her expression in the most arousing way Aemond had ever imagined. Pulling her shift down her chest, he groaned lowly at the sight of her breasts and took one in his palm and mouthed at the other, taking her stiffened nipple between his lips in a way that made a shuddering moan slip past her lips.

“Gods - I would adore to watch you swell with my child - would you like that -”

All she could do was nod feebly, words unable to occupy her mouth where soft, sweet sounds of pleasure were pouring out. Aemond smirked, grazing his teeth over her bud.

“yes, you would like to serve your husband - give him children, wouldn't you - fuck-” his voice strained at the effort it took to hold himself back, his hands sliding down the column of her back to her plump backside, palms gripping tight and guiding her rhythm onto him, over and over.

She moaned loudly, the motion of being pulled back and forth and yet still impaling herself on him driving the fat head of his cock into the deepest and most forbidden parts of her.

“Aemond -”

“And once you have one - I'll fuck yet another one into you - keep you fat with child” his breathing grew ragged and shaky, “- take it - like a good little wife should-”

“Yes - yes-” she breathed quickly, the words slipping out without realising what they were for, her blind acceptance of being his wife, or the rising waves of pleasure coursing white, hot through her body.

He felt her squeezing him and hastened both of her rhythms, dragging her back into his lap and pushing up into her wet heat ceaselessly. Both the numbing ache of her peak and her bud rolling against his body in quick succession had her hands gripping around him, burying her face in the crook of his neck as her limbs flooded with warmth.

“That's it, ābrazyrys -”

“Gods, Aemond-” she squeaked, completely overcome and possessed by the heights of pleasure rolling through her, the endless rhythm of him fucking up into her only prolonging it.

Her tight walls squeezed him so deliciously that Aemond's heart leapt into his throat, completely surprised as he pulsed thickly and spilled within her, his lone eye tightly shut. His own fulfilment had his hips twitching, shallowly pushing his seed into her, and hoping that it took.

Even once he was completely spent and exhausted, softening inside her, neither moved, and he simply felt her tender fingertips at his shoulders in light soft circles, massaging him. And thought, that this is how it always should have been, had he fought for her.

Her breath fluttered against his skin, herself tired in exertion from their shared pleasure.

“I was a fool - for allowing you to slip from my grasp.”

She sat up, to look down at him, her face flushed, hair in messy waves, looking every bit as beautiful as the day he'd lost her.

But she smiled, her finger tracing the pattern impressed on the leather of his eye patch, “you may have been a fool,” she started.

Her finger hooked beneath it, and lifted it away, her expression unchanged as her thumb stroked the indent of the scar at his cheek. Aemond felt his heart soar in a way that almost felt terrifying.

“I never slipped from your grasp,” she uttered gently, “my heart was always yours.”

Aemond brushed her hair from her features, her words sending waves of ecstasy thrumming in his veins.

“Just as mine shall always be.”

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @randomdragonfires @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @valleyof-goldenlilies @virtualsweetsqueen @watercolorskyy @emmaisafictionwhore @minholy223

[lyrenminth]

Stood up for you

You didn't want Joe to meet your family. During your first year as a couple, you spent most of the time with his family, until one day he asked you about your parents and siblings. You were as vague as you could be. You wished you could tell him you didn't feel embarrassed, but that wasn't true.

Your family was a mess. You were the middle child, and the only one with a regular income. Your older brother was living with your mom, and your younger sister was married and had two little children. She was also living with your parents. And both of them only talked to you to ask for money. You didn't want to tell them who you were dating because they would be worse once they knew it.

It was, in fact, not nice. Your mom didn't believe you when you told her. She laughed in your face. "Questionable taste" - what kind of mom talks about her daughter like that? Your brother was happy for you, smelling the opportunities Joe could bring. "Maybe I'm gonna start a podcast and he can be my first guest," he told you, all smiles.

Your sister frowned but didn't say much. Your dad was the only reasonable one. He told you he expected Joe to treat you right.

So when Joe told you he wanted to meet your family, you tried your best to avoid the day. But you couldn't - he was adamant. And now he knew why. Sitting at the table during dinner, trying his best to answer all the questions your brother was shooting, your sister tried to sit next to him until your dad told her that was your place. And you could only smile uncomfortably, wanting that stupid dinner to end. Then, your mother decided to talk.

"Well, Joe, you see my daughter is not the sharpest tool of the three," she said so casually. "But I'm glad you like her."

Joe's eyes sparkled with annoyance, and his reply came along quickly. "I disagree with you, Mrs. [Your Last Name]. I think she's the smartest in this room," he said, politely but tensely.

"Oh, no. My son got a degree in a very important university, and her sister is a wonderful mother. Sometimes I lose track of you, honey," she said to you in a fake tone. You felt your face turn red. "You always disappear somehow, but now you are here. We're very happy."

"Thanks, Mom."

"After all, you achieved something in your life," Joe put the cutlery down so hard the table shook a little bit. Everybody looked at him, and he was mad, mad. The vein in his forehead was popping, eyebrows furrowed together and his eyes were fire.

"Y/N is one of the most hard-working women I know. She got a degree in communications and she's incredibly good at her job. I'm proud to be her boyfriend, and I think now I understand her better," he squeezed your hand below the table. His eyes told you everything. I know now why you don't want them - they're nuts. "You should be proud of her, because honestly, ma'am, you are losing wonderful opportunities with your behavior."

The tension could be cut with a knife. Until your dad started laughing. You frowned, confused and frustrated. Joe gave him the side-eye but didn't say anything.

"God, he's a good one," your mother was scowling at him, blushed and irritated.

"The dinner was delicious, the company not so much," Joe added in a salty tone. He stood up and reached for your hand. "Let's go, baby."

You were in shock. You silently took his hand and walked out the dinner room as everyone was watching you. "Excuse us" Joe said to you father, nodding in courtesy.

He took your coat and your bag and gently push you out of the door. "Let's go" he was scowling at everything until you reached the car. Once inside, he let out a deep breath. "I'm so sorry" he apologized, looking regretful.

"It's ok" you whispered, feeling ashamed, and happy and on the verge of crying. You looked straight at the door of your house. Your family house. So many memories there and yet it felt so distant.

"I shouldn't have insist on this. I never thought they would be so..." he stopped looking for the correct word. "Awful?" you suggested.

"Your brother is an opportunist and your sister is clearly jealous of you" he grumbled, starting the engine. "I don't have kind words, sorry"

"It's ok" you repeated, you knew your family well. You let out a shaky breath. Your search for his hand through the console "Thank you for standing up for me"

"No problem" he squeezed it and a slight smile appeared on his lips. "Nobody is going to trash talk you in my presence, ever"

You laughed, he was very secure of his statement though. You felt something flutter in your stomach, spreading through your chest until your ir reached your fingertips. No one has stood for you like this before. He was on your team. "Thank you, baby "

"Everything for you" he winked.

[herlondonboy]

trust, clarisse la rue

summary: how can she trust you again after you let everyone think she was the lightning thief?

warnings: break up, it’s rushed, child of hades!reader

wc: 1.0k

being the cousin of percy jackson would have it’s perks, if it weren’t for being his paternal cousin. sure, the gods have no dna, meaning you’re not technically related, but that didn’t matter to either of you

his father is poseidon, and yours, hades. you were cousins, if not by blood, by love for each other.

you’d only known percy for two weeks, but being on a quest with him taught you a lot. there was nothing he wouldn’t do for those he loved. grover, annabeth, his mother, he’s fight the gods for them. you admired that about him. he was twelve, but ready to humble the gods, days after finding out that he was a half-blood.

he was doing what you wanted to do your whole life. you wanted to scream and curse your father for being absent for so long, and he was doing it for you.

now that you have a family, consisting of a cousin and two little siblings (annabeth and grover, though annabeth hadn’t accepted it quite yet), all you wanted to do was go home into the arms of your girlfriend. you missed falling asleep in her arms, waking up to her scent, and just overall annoying her.

you wondered if she was mad at you, for taking longer that you said. she didn’t know you had been stuck in the lotus hotel for a few days and missed the solstice. all she knew what that percy failed the quest.

the underworld was your least favourite part of the quest. seeing your father, face to face. you scolded him as he tried to offer your friends pomegranate juice and he backed down, shrugging. then you left.

percy and grover followed you shortly, and you were once again face to face with ares.

gods, how you wanted to rip that smug smirk off of his face. he didn’t deserve it after what he said about his children, after what he said about clarisse. nobody forced him to reproduce, but he did, and now he blames them for being born.

despite being a god, and the one of war at that, ares lost to percy. you felt proud, like a parent watching their child succeed. ares was gone in a flash, and it was replaced by your fathers helm.

the children looked at you, so you stepped forward to pick it up. it was heavier than you had expected.

“percy, i-“ you turned around to see him walking into the small bungalow not far behind. sharing looks with the other two twelve year olds, you decided to follow him.

there, you met alectro. she took your father’s helm and percy made her tell him that you wanted your mothers back. hades wasn’t going to let your mother go, though. he needed you, and he’d lose you if you got her. sally jackson, however, was a different story. you prayed that he’d give her back to percy. he was just a kid, he needed his mom.

“no,” you heard, making you turn to see annabeth looking at percy.

“you’re not going to stop him,” you murmured, making them turn to you. “he going to olympus, whether you like it or not.”

percy nodded at that. “you three need to go back to camp. i have to talk to zeus. i have to.”

it took a little convincing, but eventually annabeth and grover agreed to go back. then all eyes were back on you.

“i’m going to olympus, too,” you told them. “my quest was protecting percy. if that’s where he’s going, that’s where i’m going.”

there was silence for a few more seconds before they accepted that.

-

you were finally back at camp. with percy walking next to you, you felt relieved. you’d met your uncles as poseidon defended his son against his brother’s wrath. now that you were back, you could hug and kiss clarisse all you wanted.

walking into camp, most demigods clapped for percy as you slowed down to let him relish in his glory. you were looking out for the one person that wouldn’t be clapping, and when you found her, her arms were crossed as she glared at you. you wondered if it was because you walked in with percy.

excusing yourself, you diverted from the path and towards your girlfriend with a smile. she scoffed and rolled her eyes at that and stormed off.

you followed her until you were far enough into the woods that no one would hear your conversation.

“hey, you,” you said softly, reaching out to touch her shoulder, but she spun around.

clarisse's eyes blaze with betrayal as she confronted you about the rumors circulating, questioning, "how am i supposed to trust you if you let everyone believe i was the lightning thief?" you're rendered speechless, struggling to find the right words.

in an attempt to defend yourself, you stammer, "i didn’t." but clarisse remains unyielding, her anger palpable.

“then why did you let luke believe it?” you stayed silent and she realised. the tension thickens between you, and the air becomes charged with unspoken emotions. she snaps, "oh, you think that because i crave my dad’s validation so much that i’d start a world war?" your heart sinks as she delivers the words with a bitter edge.

"i thought you, of all people, would understand," clarisse adds, her voice filled with disappointment.

desperation sets in, and you try to explain, "clarisse, it wasn't my intention. i would never intentionally hurt you. you know that.”

“do i?” she asked.

“i love you,” you tried.

but your words fall on deaf ears. she scoffs, shaking her head. "i can't trust you anymore," clarisse declares, breaking up with you. without looking back, she leaves you behind. tears well up in your eyes, emotions overwhelming you. the breakup is abrupt, and the pain lingers as clarisse walks away, leaving you alone with shattered emotions.

[jasmines-library]

Hi!! I LOVE UR WRITING SM!! im literally obsessed with ur batfam and supernatural fanfictions!!

So, could u PLS write an older winchester sibling one where they take care of their younger brothers when they were children and how much more difficult john made it fore them and then maybe throw in a scene when theyre all older (like during the show) where the brothers maybe express their appreciation for them??

Thanks in advance!! ❤️

Family First

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Warnings: sort of abuse mentioned, death mentioned.

Word Count: 1.3k

⛧ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛧

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Protect your brothers at all costs. That was what your father always told you. As the eldest, it was your duty to look after them, to teach them and to protect them from the world whilst your father was away. Three years older than Dean and seven years older than Sam, you have a lot of responsibility to look after them. 

Most of your time was spent in some dead-beat motel, where the taps dripped constantly and the wallpaper was either shrouded with mould or peeling off. Sometimes both at the same time. With the loss of your mother and the often absence of your father, you played more of a parental role to your little brothers than anyone else. You were there for birthdays to see the gleam on their faces when they unwrapped the presents you had managed to steal or scrounge together with what little money you had. You were there on christmassed when John, too obsessed with work to care, wasn't. No matter how many times you had to lie to them about where he was, it never got easier. You never got used to seeing the disappointment on their small faces; their eyebrows knitting together and their eyes drooping with sadness. And it never got easier seeing them slowly begin to lose hope in their father. To see them slowly realise that he wasn’t coming home most nights. Slowly, as they grew, they began to see through your excuses for John, becoming wise to his actions. To his neglect. But the worst part was the worry. Worry for John, but also for your brothers. Even as they slept, sprawled out on the motel bed, you would stay on the couch, eyes wide awake as you nursed a mug of lukewarm coffee, eyes flicking between whatever shitty cartoon you had playing on mute, and your sleeping brothers just waiting for something. For one of them to wake up from a nightmare. For something to somehow slip through the doors and windows you had locked firmly shut, and double checked at least three times. The fear of something happening to your brothers gripped you tight like a vice, consuming you completely. A lot of it stemmed from the ‘maternal’ role you played for them. But a lot if it was fear driven into you by your father. 

He was hard on you. That was very clear. John had always been very clear with his discipline. Especially since your mom died. There was one time that something did happen to your brothers whilst on your watch. And the memory scarred you to this day. You had left the motel room for a minute. You had wanted to slip across the hall to the vending machine, and selfishly wanted some peace and quiet away from your brothers for once. But….when you returned your heart practically dropped through your feet. Sam, barely 10 years old, was lying on the bed, Dean not far away and in the two minutes that you had taken your gaze off of your brothers, the Shtriga that your father was out hunting had managed to slip through the window to feed on your youngest brother. Luckily, your father had returned in time to kill the striga and both Sam and Dean were completely fine. But you had hell to pay from your father. To say he scolded you would be putting it lightly. You never took your eyes off of your brothers after that. 

As you all grew older, and your father had deemed Dean old enough to look after Sammy, you began to hunt with your father. The training was rough, and often you came home battered and bruised. But that was just the life of a hunter. Hesitation would be punished. Hesitation could get you or someone killed; shoot first ask questions later. Always. Hunting with your dad gave you a rush. The two of you began to grow a little closer as you spent more time with him. Sure, he was hard on you. But you knew he just wanted you to be safe….. You began to enjoy hunting once you pushed past the initial fear and the butterflies that stirred in your stomach until they made you feel sick. It gave you something to do. It gave you a purpose. It made you feel like you were helping. Saving people. Though the nervousness still lingered when you were away from your brothers. The longer you were away the more the thoughts of something bad happening to them consumed your mind even though you knew they were old enough to handle themselves. You hated to admit it…but it sort of hurt that they didn’t need you anymore. 

Overtime, things changed. Dean began to hunt too. Sam drifted apart. Until that fateful night that he left. You still remember the argument. The slamming of doors as he left for Stanford with no plan of when or if he would even return. Dean needed you for the first time in a long time that night. John had stormed off, heading to the local bar to drown his problems with drink. You were sure that if you hadn’t been there, then dean would have been following shortly behind like a dog in tow. A lost puppy following its owner. The two of you sat in silence that night, clinging on to every shred of the comfort you could give each other. To every shattered fragment of your broken family. 

Things fell apart further when your Dad went missing. With Sam gone, Dean and you would often go on hunts together. Sometimes with your father. Often not. And sure, sometimes you would go a little while without seeing each other if the jobs didn’t line up, but this time it had been too long. So you hauled yourself into Baby, who John had gifted to you, and took the long drive to visit Sammy at Stanford. You couldn’t believe how much he had grown since you last saw him. He was taller. That was the first thing you noticed. He even dwarfed Dean who already towered over you himself. And he had changed his hair too. It framed his face more. He was so grown up so different, but even with the time apart the love between you still remained. It was that reason that Sam decided to join you. Broken and grieving his girlfriend, once again Sammy needed you. And you were ready to be there for him. It felt like being a child again; having your brothers relying on you once more. But even with years away from them, the feeling still came naturally. 

The three of you became thick as thieves again after that. Sam stayed. Sam died. Sam came back. Dean died. Dean came back. Over and over again the three of you would be separated. And each time you found your way back to each other. Every time you were there. 

It was a hot day in California when it happened. Dean had been driving Baby, the windows rolled down as your and Sam's voices melded with the music blasting from the stereo. It was one of those days in between hunts where life was just so worth living. Where the Winchesters could just be. You had stopped at a small cafe in the mountains. It was a pretty thing; small and on the roadside by a lake in the mountains. It had a small picnic space that you and Sam resided in as Dean brought over your order. He had insisted in going in himself, even though you had offered countless times to go in for him. 

The glass clinked against the class as he placed the tray down on the table.

“Thank you, Deano.” you smiled softly, taking your order from the tray and savouring the ice cold of your drink as you took a sip. 

Dean sat beside you. “It’s no problem. You’re always doing things for us, you know? Let us do something for you. Even if it is just driving and buying you lunch.”

“Seriously,” Sam added, “You’re always helping us out. Patching us up. Keeping us safe. You’re always there.”

You shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

“We know.” Sam hummed. “But I guess we’ve never really said thank you.”

“You don’t have to, Sammy. It’s just my job. Someone’s gotta keep you two in line.”

They both chuckle lightly. “Seriously though. Thank you.”

Your heart warmed, a soft, loved smile creeping onto your lips. “Anytime, you call and I’m there. Always.”

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

BATFAM TAGS

@hearts4robs @xxrougefangxx @hell-o-kittys @harleycao @batfamsstuff @alicedawitchbish @killxz @rosecentury @lara20aral

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[ofstarsandvibranium]

Precious Truths: Part 12

Fandom: Bridgerton

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x F!Reader

Summary: After your father finds out you’ve been writing under a male pseudonym, he threatens to marry you off to an atrocious man unless you find yourself a husband within a month’s time.

Series Masterlist

Three years. Three years was all you got with James Montclair before he unexpectedly died from a heart attack. You two had so much you wanted to do together. You wanted to travel the world and start a family.

All of those dreams came to an unexpected halt and you felt so broken and empty.

James was your savior, salvation. Lover and friend. He was supposed to be there with you forever and this is what became of him? It's not fair. How could someone so sweet, passionate, and understanding like James succumb to such a sudden death? You don't understand it.

After the bishop says a final prayer and James' coffin lowers to the ground, you and James' mother hold each other tight, crying into each other's arms.

You, James' mother, and his father, stay as friends and family bid you prayers, sorrows, and well wishes.

When Violet Bridgerton and her family come up next, you toss all propriety to the side. You throw yourselves at the older woman you saw as another mother figure. She gasps as she holds you, her heart breaking for she knows all too well how it feels to unexpectedly lose a husband.

"I know, sweet girl. I know it hurts. Let it all out."

The Bridgertons stand silently in solemn. All of their hearts clenching at the sight of you. You are their dear friend and they all hurt to see you so crestfallen.

But the one most broken of all stands furthest back from his siblings. Practically hiding behind his eldest brother, Benedict Bridgerton watches as you sob into his mother's arms.

He never wished for you to be in the same position similar to his mother's. To lose one's love and dearest friend, he saw how it affected his mother for years. Sure, his mother is happy now, but that was well long after his father's passing.

His concern grows for you. He hopes you don't fall into a deep depression and sadness. He felt helpless when his mother was going through it. He refuses to feel the same now with you.

With a sudden swell of courage and compassion, he pushes his way to the front of his siblings. All of which are too happy to let their brother through so confront you.

After minutes pass, you pull back from Violet and immediately spot Benedict.

"Ben," you say his name breathlessly before you hurl yourself towards him. He quickly catches you, wrapping his arms around you, tight.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N," he whispers as he holds you and you hold him.

"Thank you for coming," you whisper back.

Violet quickly gathers her children, herding them inside the Montclair estate where James' parents reside. Everyone leaving you and Benedict be.

A part of Benedict feels odd to be embracing you like this in front of your husband's grave. But you're hurting and need comfort, and that's the priority right now. You're the priority.

____________________

"Perhaps, it would be good for you to live with us for some time," James' mother, Clarissa, says once the guests start dwindling down. Benedict had left to fetch you a beverage. He hadn't left your side for hours.

You sigh, looking down at your black dress, "Won't I be intruding?"

"Darling, you are family now. You could never intrude. This is your home now too."

"It's customary for the mourning period to be twelve months. In that time, it's best to be surrounded by your family for support," Violet says as she sits across from you in the drawing room.

"It is also customary to pause social obligations for a short time while you mourn," James' father, Jean Louis, adds, "Which I'm sure you're relieved about," he gives you a teasing wink.

You give a little chuckle, "Yes. James and I weren't very fond of all the balls and dinner parties. At least, I will get some reprieve from that."

Clarissa sadly smiles at the mention of her only son and child, "Yes, he never did like attending those. Having you by his side made them bearable, according to him."

"I felt the same," you let out a deep breath, "I think I will call it night here, if I may?" you look to your mother and father-in-law.

"Of course, cheri. Go rest," Clarissa stands and kisses your cheek. Jean Louis kisses your head.

Benedict comes back with two glasses in hand and a furrowed brow, "Are you alright?"

"I am feeling quite exhausted so I will be going to bed," you respond.

He nods in understanding, "Alright. I...If you need anything, write to me. I will be here in an instant."

"Promise?" you look at him hopefully.

"Promise."

"Thank you, Ben."

"Goodnight, Y/N."

"Goodnight," you respond and nod to Violet before exiting the room.

Violet stands, "I believe that is our sign to leave as well."

"Thank you, Lady Bridgerton, to you and your family for coming today. It means a great deal to us."

The Dowager Viscountess softly smiles, "Yes, well, Y/N has always been a dear friend to our family. James became dear to us as well after they married. We cared for him, dearly. We are here should you ever need us, Lady Montclair."

"We very much appreciate it," Jean Louis says. He gestures for the Bridgerton family to step out first, he and his wife following behind.

_______________________

A part of you thought that Benedict was being nice when he said you could write him. The thought of writing letters to him again only for them to go unread scared you. But it was a particularly rough day. A week after James' passing, you were struggling to get through the day. You thought you were okay, but you were in the study reading and for a moment, you thought you saw James sitting at the desk, watching you with love in his eyes like he used to. But he wasn't.

That's when you decided to write to Benedict.

Dearest Ben,

I know you told me to write you if I ever needed anything. To be frank, I've been wanting to write you for several days now. However, I have been afraid to since for the past few years, I've written to you and I never received a letter back.

I hope you do read this letter. Whether it is due to pity or you do still care for me, it does not matter. Please, I beg you, just write back.

I need you more than ever right now.

While the Montclairs are kind, loving, and we all share the grief of losing James, I just need someone to distract me. To let me know that this pain won't be forever.

I desperately need your friendship, Benedict. This is all I ask.

Yours,

Y/N

_________________

After reading your letter, Benedict barges into Anthony's study startling Kate and Anthony.

"Brother," he says and nods to Kate, "Sister." He holds up your letter, "Y/N wrote to me begging for my friendship."

Kate and Anthony look at each other and then to Benedict, "I'm not sure what the issue is," Anthony says in confusion.

The Viscountess chuckles and shakes her head, "Dear husband, Benedict is obviously in distress because he is unsure of what the best plan of action is."

Benedict nods, "Yes. That's it," he fully faces his sister, "What do I do? You're still close to Y/N, yes?"

Kate closes the book she was reading and sits up in her chair, "I can't fully give you the extent of Y/N's thoughts and feelings towards you and the end of your friendship. However, I will say that since you cut off contact from her, she seemed to have lost her spark. Yes, she was still happy with the marquess, but you could tell that something was missing from her. She missed you a lot, Benedict."

Anthony slowly nods, "Yes, she didn't want you to leave her side at Montclair's funeral."

"She seemed more at ease after you approached her. Still mourning the death of her husband, yes, but happy you were there."

Benedict stands there contemplating Kate's words, "Do you think it's wise I pick up correspondence with her again?"

Kate shrugs, standing from her spot, "Doesn't matter what I think. All I know is that Y/N has missed your friendship, Benedict, and I know you feel the same." she gives her brother a reassuring pat on the arm before excusing herself from the room.

Benedict then looks to his eldest brother with an approving look, "I'm glad you married her, brother."

Anthony gives a proud, lovesick smile, "As am I."

[luvinescent]

Mismatched Hearts

Pairing: Robb Stark x fem!Reader

Summary: Y/N and Robb have been friends since childhood; the two harboring feelings for one another without the others’ knowledge. When Robb’s mother makes the choice to meddle in his love life by constructing an engagement between the two—Robb is left with guilt at the belief that he has trapped her in an unwanted marriage with him because of his status. Neither one choosing to confess their feelings or address the situation; they do more harm than good towards their friendship and future marriage.

Warnings: angst angst but fluff but angst but fluff yk

Word count: 5996

Part 2/2

Previous

The scent of roasted baby pig filled the dining room, along with the various dishes that had been laid out by the servants. Presently, a family dinner was being held between the Starks and the Y/Ns. Eddard had sought out Y/Ns father; inviting the family to their household to bond with one another. The table setting was situated with Eddard at the head of the table, his wife beside him, Robb beside her, and the rest of the Stark children (minus Jon, per Catelyn’s request). Y/N’s father sat on the other side of Eddard, her mother next to him, herself beside them, and her younger sibling sitting at the end. From her position, she sat right across from Robb. While jokes and talk was being shared between the parents, and laughter between the younger siblings; Y/N and Robb hadn’t even shared a glance at each other. Sansa was the first to crack Y/N to speak, asking her on what color she had decided for her dress.

“Oh, I haven’t even thought about that kind of stuff yet…” Y/N extended, “I guess white for traditions…maybe gold”, she answered, smiling at the young girl. Digging into her meal, Sansa scrunched up her face in enthusiasm, “I’m so excited! Soon we’ll be sisters!” Robb had let his eyes linger up from his dish and land upon Y/n as she laughed, watching Sansa and Arya now argue about “You already have a sister!” and “Well, not a good one!”. He took in her beauty, memorized by the sound of her laughter and the way she held a kind of glow in her eyes. Sensing someone was watching her, Y/N turned her head; her laughter stopped abruptly as she made eye contact with him. The two shared a long glance until it felt all too much, and they both looked back down at their plates. Both blushing immensely.

Y/N’s father patted his belly, letting out a grunt of satisfaction, “That meal was heavenly, Ed. I cannot begin to thank you for inviting my family and I into your home”, he said with her mother nodding along. Catelyn waved her hand in the air, replying in her husband’s place, “Nonsense. We are to be family soon, so a dinner is expected. I hope you saved room for dessert.” At the mention, servants began to enter the room with plates containing slices of lemon cake. Once given to each person at the table, everyone began to dig in; except for two people. Y/N stared at her slice while Robb observed her. Noticing her untouched piece, Eddard questioned the girl, “Lady Y/N, you have no appetite left in you? Or are you participating in the practice that ladies do of cutting sweets off to lose weight for your wedding?”. Y/N cringed at the comment in displeasure, but hid it behind a smile, “No, my lord. I am just not fond of sweets- “

“She hates lemon cake”, Robb announced to the table. Picking up her plate, and his, he called a servant over, “Take this back to the kitchen. Bring the lady a slice of strawberry cake instead”. The servant nodded and scurried away. Sitting back down in his seat, Robb chose to ignore all the stares that were put on him and focused his attention on only one person: Y/N. She nodded at Robb and spoke a very gently, “Thank you”. Their mothers gave each other a knowing glance as they watched their children interact. Robb cleared his throat and returned her nod, “It is alright. It would not be fair for everyone to be enjoying dessert and for you not”. The servant returned into the room, handing Robb his plate and Y/N hers. Before she could grab it, Robb took the plate from her and replaced it with his; their fingers gently brushing one another’s. “Here,” he pulled back his hand quickly as he set the plate down, “this one is a larger slice”. She thanked him once again as he continued his talk, “I know how much you enjoy your sweets”.

There was a hint of mischief in his voice that only she could hear. Y/N understood his little inside joke; referring to all those times when they would steal the baked goods from the kitchen. At their small age, it was an intense mission of trying not to get caught that involved a lot of running and tripping on their feet. In the end, they would still get caught as all Lady Catelyn had to do was follow the trail of dropped biscuits. Y/N smiled fondly at the memory and let out a small giggle; which she felt embarrassed for as now all the attention was turned on her. “Sorry,” she apologized as she must’ve looked crazy for laughing out of nowhere, “Yes. I do enjoy my sweets very much”. Robb grinned, feeling happy that she was able to notice his jest.

Smiling while staring at the two, Y/N’s father interrupted their moment, “I must thank you son. You two are not married yet and you are already acting like an attentive husband. I can rest easy knowing my daughter shall be in good hands”. Robb smiled and nodded at his words but hidden behind him were his anxious thoughts that were returning once again.

Good hands? he thought, you mean the hands that have confined her.

Eddard raised his glass of wine, with everyone else following through, “To a happy marriage and alliance”. Some moments later, after everyone had finished their dessert and wine, people began to stand and leave. Robb made quick work of heading straight towards the door but was interrupted by Y/N wrapping her hand around his forearm.

“Robb, can we please talk- “

“I’m sorry my lady but I must go”. And with that, once again, Robb left—leaving her standing there by herself.

Since their last encounter in the dining hall, several days had transpired and not a word had been spoken between Robb and Y/N. At first, Y/N sought out Robb several times, but the male had refused her advances or hidden from her. After that, Y/N was fed up and gave him similar treatment; ignoring his presence when she passed him down the halls on her way to see his sisters and not greeting him when she saw him with Jon.

“Jon. Lovely day we’re having today.” She smiled warmly at the boy, disregarding the other who stood tall right next to him. “It is quite a lovely day, my lady”, Jon spoke, “Where are you heading off to?”. Nodding, she turned her head in the direction of the great keep, “Lady Stark has been giving me lessons on- “, ever so quickly, her eyes had darted over to Robb before returning back to his brother, “-being Lady of Winterfell. I, uh, I should get going. I’ll see you later”. And with that, she picked up the skirts of her dress and left their company. She was a few steps away when the Greyjoy boy came into view, “Theon. Hope you have a good day” and she was gone. Theon was given little time to process the greeting, returning a stuttering “Y-You t-too, my l-lady!”. Walking up to the two brothers, his eyes were bulging in disbelief, “I must have hit my head or something! That’s the first time I ever heard her call me by my first name. A lovely sound it was for my name to come out her mo- “

“Do not go all lovesick. Her hand is spoken for” Robb said annoyed with a hint of anger in his voice. Jon was also quick to notice the jealous tone that was hidden in there. He cleared his throat, staring around the castle yard, “Her hand is spoken for, you say? Yet you two have not spoken a word to one another in days”. Robb’s head turned quick and a glare was delivered to Jon that made even him slightly quiver, “Mind your business, Snow”. A stare down between the two was in motion, several seconds of pure silence gone by. Theon, still not good at reading the room, threw in his two cents and slightly laughed “You two still aren’t talking? Sounds like her hand is up for grabs to me. Maybe I should go find the lady right now and convince- “. Theon had no time to finish his banter as he found himself on the ground, in mud, having been pushed by Robb. And hard.

“Ow! You prick! I was only joking!” he exclaimed.

“Joke or not, remove such thoughts from that head of yours. As if I would ever let Y/N go with the likes of you”, Robb glared down at him fiercely.

Jon pushed his brother aside to help the Greyjoy boy to his feet, both frowning at the Stark heir. Theon grumbled in irritation, “Yeah, yeah, fine. Now look at me—I got mud all over me!”. Jon rolled his eyes, taking out the piece of cloth he has kept on him for the past weeks now, “Stop wining like a baby and use this”. Before Theon could take the item, it was confiscated by Robb. “Oh, what?! Am I not allowed to get this shit off me?!”, Theon expressed.

Staring down at the handkerchief, Robb recognized the coloring as well as the sewing of a badly stitched direwolf. “Where did you get this?” he questioned, fixating his eyes on Jon.

Jon sighed at the sight of Robb, “She gave it to me. Said to burn it but I didn’t have the heart to do it”. Robb stared down at what originally had belonged to him but had given up because of his insecurities. Ever so carefully, he caressed the fabric, turning it around and now noticing the small stitched initials in the corner. The first initial was sewed perfectly, while the second looked as though a mistake was made or a new thought had been formed. Robb knew right away that Y/N had originally sought to sew her last name initial, but changed her mind and replaced it with an S instead.

First/Initial S.

Y/N Stark.

Not being able to handle his feelings, Robb left in a hurry, taking the handkerchief with him. Jon watched as Robb left; it felt like he was seeing more of Robb’s back than he was of him entirely these days. To Jon, maybe this could finally be what can reconnect Y/N and Robb again. His thoughts were interrupted, eyes rolling as Theon yelled beside him “Hey, where you going?! While you’re at it, bring me back something to clean myself with, you cunt!”

Finding her was never hard for Robb. Once he spotted her, walking alone down the halls, he quickly jogged up to her. “My lady,” he called out but she chose to ignore him and his repeated addresses. “My lady,” he tried once more as he finally caught up to her, standing right behind her, “Y/N”. With that, she turned ever slowly to face the oldest Stark child, hand clasped in front of her, “Yes, my lord?”. He chewed on his bottom lip and vexedly looked around, “You know I am not a Lord until my father passes down his title. Call me by my first name”. Laughing bitterly, she placed her hands upon her hips, “I can do many things —call you many things. But I just won’t do that”. He stared deeply into her eyes before pulling out his handkerchief, “Was this one of the many things you can do?”. She gaped at his palm, looking back at him in furry, “Where did you get that? How did you get that?”.

He answered her question straightforwardly, “Jon had it—said you gave it to him” he raised the cloth to show her initials, “Never mind that. Explain why you put this here”.

Angrily, she took the handkerchief out of his grasp and held it tightly against her chest, “I gave it to Jon because you said, and I quote, “I never asked you to do this and I don’t need this”, she said doing her best to deepen her voice to impersonate Robb. Before Robb could cut in, she continued “And I put that there because I wanted to give you that gift not as a friend, but as your wife. When we were to be married, I thought the best first gift I could possibly give you was my time and effort. As if any of that matters now”.

Robb locked eyes with her as he fully took in her revelations. A part of him felt jubilation that she never felt obligated to make him his gift but instead did it out of her own accord. The other part pf him felt deep anger towards himself for how he acted towards her. Taking a step closer, Robb conveyed, “What do you mean it doesn’t matter- “. Robb stopped talking abruptly as he fully took in her previous speech.

“What do you mean by when we were to be married?”.

Swallowing harshly, Y/N sheepishly looked away; not having the strength in her to look him in the eyes. “You were bound to find out by the end of the day,” she cleared her throat once more, “I spoke with my parents yesterday and I came here to speak with yours today. They agreed with my outlook on the matter and our engagement has been suspended”. Robb felt all the oxygen in him get knocked out by the words she spoke. He tried to keep his composure, but his labored breathing was something he could not control. Anguished, he mumbled “You had no right. What about my say on the matter?”

His question made Y/N turn her head rapidly and gawk at him in shock. That shock then turned to anger with her own heartbreak mixed in. Jabbing a finger in his chest, she gritted her teeth and hissed, “You’re say on the matter?!” she sucked in a breath, “I did this for you. You! All you! A little thank you would be appreciated”. Grasping her hand in his, he held it tightly as he held her fury faze, “For me?! I never asked you to do this!”

Scoffing, she pulled her hand back and slightly pushed him, “Well, it sure felt like I had too! You hardly look at me anymore, hardly speak to me or spend time with me- “, her voice cracked immensely as Robb took notice of the tears forming in her eyes, “Was the thought of marrying me that torturous?”. Robb gaped at her in confusion and in sorrow, taking a step close to her and placing a hand upon her face, “What are you talking about? Spending my life with you could never be agonizing”. Shaking her head, she pushed him once again, “You don’t have to play me for a joke Robb. I know, okay. I know you don’t want to marry me, and I understand. I’m sorry that you were put into such a situation and as your friend, I could not bear to watch you suffer so I fixed the problem. What’s done is done”.

Robb started to shake his head, raising his hands up to calm the girl, “Y/N. Please. I think we need to talk clearly. You must know that I- “

“I’m being sent to the Riverlands”.

Silence had enveloped the two; the drop of a pin could be heard. Robbs’ labored breathing had returned and more intense now. “…What?” he questioned.

Y/N stood her ground, tears still staining her face, but no emotion now present upon it. She looked lifeless as she spoke her next words. “Since my engagement to you has ended, my parents have returned to their original plans when it came to my future husband. I am to wed one of Lord Frey’s sons”. Robb lost his senses and engulfed the girl in a tight hug, “No. No, you cannot” he begged, “I’ll talk with your parents. I-I’ll make things right”. This time, Y/N didn’t push him away immediately. She basked in his warmth and security. Slowly, she placed her hands upon his chest and made some distance between the two. Emotionless, she uttered, “I have to go”, now heading towards the end of the hallway. Grabbing ahold of her forearm, Robb begged once again, “Please, Y/N! We need to talk- “

Turning around, the crushed look she held upon her face was enough to silence Robb. Raising her shaking hands, she cried out, “Please Robb, please. Do not make this hard for me. If you have any respect for me as your friend, as a human, you will let me leave. I cannot do this right now. Please”. Hearing the desperation in her voice, Robb took a step back. Y/N gave him one last glance before taking her leave. Robb watched in silence as her figure got smaller and disappeared. It was then he noticed that he had been crying the whole time as well.

A week and a half had passed since the announcement made by House Stark and House Y/N of the annulment of their household union. Robb and Y/N were both depressed and a mess. Y/N would isolate herself in her room and would only come out when she needed to eat or bathe. She occasionally would still have to go to her septa lessons within the castle but would keep out of sight of her (ex) best friend. Robb, on the other hand, had increased his time practicing his swordsmanship and shooting. His family grew worried that he might over exhaust himself but did not know what other ways to help him. His temper and outbreaks of anger had increased vastly. So, to them; this was a great way for him to let out his frustrations and not upon them. Today, his rage was high as he had overheard his parents speak about Household Y/N beginning preparations to send Y/N away by the end of the week.

Y/N was equally displeased and terrified. She had tried her best to convince her parents not to go through with their plans (she even suggested devoting her life to the faith), but their minds were set. Rushing down the halls of Winterfell castle, she squeaked and hid behind a corner at the sound of someone’s voice. Peaking out her head, she let out a sigh of relief at the sight of Arrya Stark. Walking up the girl, she smiled and greeted her, which was returned back.

“I haven’t seen much of you lately. I’ve missed you”, Arrya spoke frowning.

Y/N winced but smiled weakly at the girl. Aside from Robb, Arrya was one of the Stark children she would spend a great deal of time with. Whether it was playing or practicing their archery together (Arrya giving her lessons instead of vice versa), they were friends as well. Patting Arrya’s head, Y/N shook her own, “I am truly sorry. I have just been…dealing with certain things. You are far too young to understand”. Arrya gave her a look of awareness, “I know about everything. Robb and you are no longer getting married, and you are going away. I think I can understand how difficult that ought to be”. Y/N gulped as the young girl continued “Robb is in shambles you know. Been a real ass to everyone lately”.

Lightly laughing, Y/N forced a smile upon her face at the mention of the man she holds deep affection for. “I’m sure he will be alright. Our friendship was something we both held dear, so it is very sad to see how much it has and will change”. Arrya shook her head vigorously, raising her eyebrows high.

“No. It’s because he loves you”.

Y/N stopped petting the girl and gave her a confused look. She then suddenly let out a loud chuckle. “I’m sure he cherishes me very much as a friend”.

Arrya continued shaking her head, trying to get the older girl to understand. “No! He does love you. Like loves LOVES you!”

Arrya wanted to bang her head against the wall at how dense Y/N was continuing to be. “This is what I mean by you being too young to understand. There is a difference between having love for a friend and having love for a lover. Robb only loves me as a friend”, Y/N returned to petting the girl.

Arrya moved away from her hand and let out a groan. “But I truly mean it. He is going crazy- “

“Would you like to go shooting with me?” Y/N interrupted the girl; choosing to ignore Arya’s previous comments of false impression. Arya was quick to change her expression of annoyance to excitement. Her mind threw out all thoughts about her older brother’s and friend’s problems and was replaced by the thoughts of one of her favorite activities. Readying herself to say yes, her smile dropped in remembrance. “I can’t,” she scowled, “I was on my way to see my mother. She’s making me take extra lessons to better my needle work”.

Y/N tsked her tongue at the statement. “That’s too bad. I really needed something to calm my thoughts”, staring down at the ground she raised her head up, “I guess I’ll just go alone”.

Arya’s eyes bulged out as she saw Y/N turn her back and walk away, “You can’t go alone. It’s dangerous!”. Y/N turned her head and waved her hand, “Don’t worry; I’ll be fine. It can’t be any more dangerous than me having to wed a Frey” she made a joke at her own troubles. “I’ll see you another day. Bye!”

Arrya waved her hand and returned her goodbye, along with a “Be safe!”. Once Y/N was out of sight, she sobbed in defeat and headed down the hall to her classes.

At the same moment, Robb stood in the castle yard working on his own shooting. He had been doing so for hours and his aim had gone from perfect to flawed as time passed by; his thoughts continuing to run wild. At this point, he wasn’t even trying as he let go his of bow and barely made the mark.

“You missed”. Turning towards his side, Jon and Theon stood there—having been watching the Stark heir for almost an hour. This was per the request of Eddard Stark who wanted to make sure his son didn’t go mad and accidentally harm himself. He chose to ignore them and picked up another arrow; preparing his stance, he let the bow go and watched as it missed the target. “Missed again”, both boys said in unison. Robb shrugged his shoulders and went to retrieve the arrows he had thrown, “Don’t care”.

Theon watched Robb return to his stance, deciding to speak his mind. “Have you spoken to the girl?”. Jon did not even bother to hush the Greyjoy boy as even he was readying himself to ask the same question. Robb chewed his inner cheek, trying his best to control his temper, “No, I have not. I haven’t seen her around the castle, and it will be inappropriate of me to go to her home”. Theon let out a low whistle and crossed his arms, “That’s shitty”. Robb inhaled deeply as the sound of the Greyjoy boy was getting on his nerves. Before he could speak, Robb was interrupted by a young female voice.

“She was here earlier”. The trio turned and saw the youngest Stark girl come out from the shadows. Jon laughed and pointed at the girl, “Aren’t you supposed to be taking your extra lessons?”. Arrya’s face flushed as she defended herself quickly, “I was let out early”. A clear lie coming out of her mouth. “Anyway, not that matters. Y/N was here earlier—I know that she’s been coming here a few days for her septa lessons”.

Theon let out a loud cackle as he turned to Robb, “Haven’t seen her around the castle? The girl is clearly ignoring you”. Jon slightly smacked the boy upside his head to which Robb nodded at him in thanks. He returned to shooting his arrows, listening in on the other three’s conversation but not joining. Part of him wanted to quickly distract himself from thinking about Y/N and how she was purposely trying to be out of his sight. In a sense, it was the price he had to pay for doing the same to her originally. Jon ruffled up his half-sister’s hair and questioned, “And did you speak to her?”. Arrya nodded, “Yeah. Said she missed me; I told her I missed her. Blah Blah Blah. Then she left to go practice her shooting”, she scanned over the boys and eagerly spoke, “Can I please practice with you guys?”.

Robb had stood still for a second, taking in her words before sharply turning his entire body. “What do you mean she left to practice? Alone? And in the woods?”.

Both Jon and Theon tensed up and frowned as they took in the younger Starks words, realizing the implications of what she said. Arrya nodded once again, setting her sites on Robbs bow, “Yeah, alone. And I assumed so if she’s not out here with you guys”, she scanned her surroundings, “Don’t worry. She said she’d be safe. Can I practice now?”.

Robb moved quickly, grabbing his sword, and brining his bow along with him. Placing his hand upon his half-brothers’ shoulder, he spoke sternly and swiftly to him and the Greyjoy boy, “Grab a weapon and grab your horses. Split up into the woods— whoever finds her first, make sure she’s not injured and bring her back safely. Do you understand?”. Both Jon and Theon nodded, taking in their orders and seeing how Robb displayed himself as man and a future Lord. He gave them a nod and wasted no time in hurrying to his horse.

In the midst of the woods, a gentle chill lingers in the air, a refreshing coolness that swirls among the trees. A carpet of fallen leaves crunches under the feet of Y/N as she strolls along. Her face had turned into a slight flush from the cold air and her own physical movements. She had been able to shoot a couple of arrows within the half-hour she had been there. She had no targets in mind; deciding to leave the critters of the forest at peace and chose to just aim randomly at certain tree’s. She stopped suddenly at the sound of movement coming from her side; the large bushes moving. Scrunching her face, she set her bow down and stayed low, still distancing herself slightly. Ever slowly, she extended her hand out and called out to what she assumed was a wild rabbit, “Pss pss pss. Come here little guy”. More movement continued to happen until it stopped and out from the shrub came a wild boar. Y/N’s smile dropped instantly, and her fight or flight senses kicked in; standing up from the ground immediately. The sudden movement made by her had alerted the boar; its eyes landing upon her.

Without warning, the creature charged.

With a surge of fear-fueled quickness, she dove to the side, narrowly evading the boar's razor-sharp tusks. Her bow still in her hand, Y/N was quick to shoot at the beast. From her angle on the ground, the boar was only grazed slightly on its back. Her eyes never leaving the beast as it whirled around, desperation was fueling her actions as she struggled to recover from her fall. Once again, she narrowly avoided the onslaught of the boar, lunging herself on the other side of the forest ground. One more time, she raised her bow and released; this time, the arrow impaling its backside. Y/N thought she was safe at last as the boar let out a pained squeal—but the animal was strong willed as it did not fall to the ground. Y/N actions only fueled the boar’s anger. Being caught off guard, she did not have the time to stand up again. The boar raced at her, and Y/N felt her heart drop; letting out a petrified scream as she was about to meet her fate.

That never came. To her own shock, another arrow came out of nowhere and pierced the animal. The impact diverted the boar’s trajectory, causing it steer away toward the left of Y/N; falling to the ground and succumbing to it’s injuries.

Y/N’s body trembled with the aftermath of the encounter, chest heaving with exertion and relief. Looking up, she saw her savior was Robb.

Robb, himself, was breathing heavily. He had almost witnessed the death of the woman he loves but came in time to save her. The two stared at each other for a few seconds before Robb got off his horse and ran to her. Engulfing her in a hug, still on the ground, he hushed the girl and caressed her hair as he let her sob into his chest. “Shh. You’re alright. You’re safe— I’ve got you”, he placed a kiss upon her temple. A minute or two passed before Y/N had started to settle down. Robb, taking notice, placed both hands upon her face, his eyes slightly watery, “What were you thinking?! You can’t come this deep into the forest—especially with such little defense. You could’ve gotten hurt!”. Y/N shook her head, not being allowed to speak as Robb continued, “If I was just a little bit late, I could’ve found you dead! Do you not see how much that would’ve scarred me for life?!” He finally let his tears drop.

Sobbing heavily, she apologized to her friend. “I’m sorry! I know. I know I shouldn’t have come out here alone, but I needed some time to myself. I have so much going on- “she gasped deeply “I do not want to leave for the Riverlands”. Robb looked over the girl, looking at all the bruises she had gained. “We need to get you to a maester. Come on, your parents must be worried sick about you”. He raised her up to her feet and was walking towards his horse, but Y/N did not budge from her position. Turning to face her, Robb sent her a puzzled look.

“Robb. I do not want to marry the Frey boy”.

Robb bit his lip, trying his best to suppress his own emotions and focus on his friend’s health first. “Y/N, we need to get you checked- “

“Why exactly was I a bad candidate for your future wife?”

Robb felt all the air leave him as he starred at her emotionless face. “What?” he questioned.

Y/N shook her head, continuing her maundering. “I have known you my entire life. I know your likes and dislikes. I’ve been there for your ups and downs. I share so many precious memories with you. I wish to know why you would want to settle your life with a random stranger instead of me” she said not caring how desperate and draft she sounded. “…Am I not pretty enough? Am I a terrible person to you? There were a couple times I thought you felt something for me-“

Robb interrupted her, taking a step to stand in front of her. “Hold on. I do not think such things about!”, he held her gaze, “You are the most beautiful woman I know. The word terrible can never been used in the same sentence as you”. Nodding his head, he finally confessed, “Yes. There were times I did feel something for you. I still do. That is why it would not be fair for me to marry you”.  Y/N scoffed as she took in his words, ever so confused, “What does that even mean?!”.

Robb took a step back, creating a bit of distance between the two. “I could not marry you knowing that it was against your will. My household name trapping you into saying yes. Just as you are now being forced to marry the Frey boy, you were being forced to marry me”. Y/N stared at him like he had grown a second head. She took a step forward, closing their gap once again. “Trapping? Forced?! I agreed to the union on my own accord and very happily I must say!”, she pointed a finger at him “All I ever wanted was to be with you”. Robb gaped at her; his eyes wide in disbelief. “You wanted to be with me...You wanted to marry me?”.

Nodding her head, she spoke sternly. “Yes”. Y/N’s facial expressions softed a bit, gulping air and preparing herself to speak. “…Did you not want to be with me?”.

Robb took her face into his hands, their foreheads connecting. “Yes! You’re all I have ever wanted. I have been in love with you almost my whole life”. Y/N could feel her own tears and see his as well. She smiled at Robb and spoke gently, “So have I”. The two stared at each other in awe before Y/N raised her fist and striked Robb’s chest. “Stupid! Stupid! You’re so stupid!”, she said knowing she was just as dense. “Dumb, stupid, foolish- “

Robb caught her wrist in his hands. The forest was alive, full of birds chirping and the wind rustling through the trees. But, to them, not a sound could be heard as they looked into each other eyes. Robb was the first to lean in, taking her lips in his. The kiss was slow and slightly inexperience at first. That was before Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck and the two further deepened the kiss. It became very intimate and carnal instantly; deep love still hidden behind it. Y/N was the first to pull away, needing to catch her breath. Robb heaved heavily, his lips now a slight red and swollen. The two grinned at one another— Robb hand placed on her hip and the other on her cheek. “I love you”, he spoke honestly.

Y/N held back a chuckle, biting her lip as she stared lovestruck. “Now I really don’t want to marry the Frey son”.

Robb’s expression dropped, turning into a serious one as he stroked her cheek. “I’ll make things right. I will talk to the Freys, my parents— I will talk to yours. One on one. This time, I will ask for your hand without the meddling of my family”. Robb gulped, asking anxious, “…that is if you will have me”. Y/N nodded eagerly, smiling up at him, “If you’ll have me, then yes”.

“Always”.

With that, Y/N leaned in and closed the gap between their lips once more. They felt a warm, velvety feeling that flowed from their lips and sent waves of emotions coursing through their bodies. The kiss depended, a silent invitation for a more fervent connection. Robb had to decline that invitation. Pulling away, he was hit with the memory of what had just occurred a few moments ago. Looking down at Y/N, he took in all her bruises, scrapes, and dirt that covered her body.

“We still need to get you to a maester. Come on.”

Y/N groaned as Robb dragged her by the hand towards his horse, “I feel fine”. Shaking his head, Robb let out a chuckle, “We’re still in dangerous territory. Besides, that’s just all the adrenaline talking— it is bound to run out”.

Y/N gave him a mischievous smile, placing her hands on his chest and speaking quietly, “We can stay here. I can think of a few ways to keep my adrenaline pumping”. She leaned up to kiss him but was met with a flick on her forehead. “Ow”.

“Maybe another time”, he laughed, “Lets get going”. Placing her and himself upon his horse, he headed towards his home. Y/N turned her head, smiling up at him, “You looooooove me. That’s so gross”.

“Stop”.

Now aside from the birds chirping and the wind rustling through the trees, their laughter could be heard throughout the forest.

[suppose-i-was-worm]

Ghost on the Stairs

**alright, alright. I asked and y'all answered. Here's my siblings Bruce and Danny fic!**

“Boo!”

Bruce clattered to a stop on the floor, holding his arms out for his baby brother as the boy toddled his way forward.

“Hey, Danny! Did you miss me while I was at school?”

Danny waved chubby arms, clearly delighted that Bruce was waiting for him. He was all of two years to Bruce’s seven, and the two of them were almost inseparable.

Chancing a look over to his mother, Bruce found her and father smiling fondly at the two of them. Alfred was coming up behind them with a tea tray.

“Boo!”

Bruce turned back to his brother, only to lurch forward as his tiny brother took a step straight into a swirling green portal that opened up from nowhere.

Danny’s screech as he fell was cut off by the portal shutting with a snap, leaving Bruce on his hands and knees, reaching for air.

Mother, father, and Alfred all clustered around him as he began to cry, and the four of them began desperately looking for the youngest member of the family.

They never found him, and a year later, Bruce lost his parents to a gun. At least that was something he could fight against.

When Bruce became Batman at the age of twenty-two, he finally erected a gravestone for his baby brother, right next to their parents. If Danny ever came back, he wouldn’t be the same boy who had vanished.

~~~

Red Robin swung into the building, breaking through the window with his momentum. The cult surrounding a magic circle on the floor of the warehouse had been causing a ruckus in Gotham, and the bats had finally had enough.

Just as they finished knocking out the cultists, the magic circle flared to life and a green pool bloomed from the floor.

Tim, purely out of scientific curiosity, leaned closer, only to be pulled back roughly by Batman.

“Stay away from it.”

“B?”

Batman grabbed a batarang from where it had landed in the melee and threw it with a precise hand, cutting through one of the lines of chalk surrounding the pool.

Narrowing his eyes, Tim watched Bruce’s face- his expression right now was all Bruce, no Bat in sight- sorrow mixed with relief.

Once the pool had vanished completely, Bruce pulled Tim into his arms.

“Woah, what’s up B?”

“I cannot lose you too.”

The moment passed, and Red Robin found himself following Batman as the vigilante swept out of the building.

~~~

“Constantine.”

“Bats. Nice of you to call. What do you need?”

“I sent you a data packet. What is the summoning circle for?”

Constantine was quiet for a long while as he perused the files Bruce had sent him. Bruce paced in front of the batcomputer, glad that all his children were in bed for the night. Somehow they had known something was wrong, and every single one of them had come to the manor- even Jason.

“Looks like an attempt to summon a being of the Infinite Realms to me.”

“Infinite Realms?”

“Mhmm. The afterlife, if you will.”

Bruce couldn’t help the small wheeze as his airways caught. Constantine didn’t seem to notice, as he continued.

“The ghosts haven’t been as active lately, not since the new king came into power. It’s been maybe two decades since?”

“I would like to meet this king.”

“Why?”

“It would be politically intelligent of us to make allies.”

Constantine sighed, long and loud.

“Fine. Give me a week to gather up the stuff.”

~~~

Jason glanced over the thin information brief that Bruce handed down, skimming it at first, until something caught his eye.

“B?”

“Hn.”

“According to this, the being we’re trying to summon is damn powerful. Wouldn’t it be better to do this on the Watchtower with more backup?”

“Yeah B,” Dick chimed in, “Constantine’s report does say that the guy is rumored to be a wandering spirit, which limits his power, but what if that’s not right?”

Jason looked back down at the papers, his eyes darting through to find out what a wandering spirit was.

A ghost that couldn’t find its grave. Part of Jason ached at the thought, and he didn’t quite understand why.

“Fine. We will summon the king at the Watchtower.”

Small victories.

~~~

Bruce was not a praying man, and yet here he was, hoping against hope that this ghost could assist him in finding out what happened to his brother.

The sigils on the floor flared to light, and a now familiar green portal swirled into being. The entire room waited with bated breath for a few moments, and then a young woman rose from the portal.

Batman knew what it felt like to be stabbed. There was no way he could have been, and yet there was a knife in his gut as he stared at this girl who looked so much like his mother, except for the inverted colors.

“The Ghost King thanks you for your call- Unfortunately he is currently unavailable. Please leave your message after the-“ the girl’s professional, almost robotic voice petered off. “Wait a minute- it’s here!”

Her eyes were wide, as was the smile she flashed at the group.

“Please hold.”

She sunk back into the pool, and Bruce took a step towards it, despairing of his chance.

And then she returned, dragging a young man up with her.

“Can you feel it, Phantom? It’s here! We can find it!”

“Calm down, Phantasm. We can go looking soon- first we need to find out why I was summoned.”

The young man turned to Diana, who was standing at the front of the group. She had been chosen as diplomatic leader, seeing as she was a Princess and Ambassador.

“Pardon my sister, how may I assist?”

Bruce let their conversation wash over him as he cataloged the young man’s features. They were so very similar- so close.

The man was both too young and too old. Daniel would be in his mid-forties had he lived, and only two if he’d died. This young man couldn’t be older than thirty.

As Diana’s explanation ended, the young man smiled.

“I agree. It would be advantageous of us to be allies, knowing what I know of this reality now. As allies, I must ask- what is the real reason I was summoned?”

He turned his green (wrong, too much like Damian’s) eyes to Bruce.

“Will you explain? The summoning was filled with great longing for something.”

Bruce stumbled forward, and surely to the shock of his teammates, friends, and children, fell to his knees before the king.

“My- my brother. He fell through a portal so similar to yours and I- I need to know what happened to him. Please.”

The king and his sister looked at each other before looking back at Bruce.

“The Infinite Realms are just that, infinite. However, I may be able to help.”

“Phantom!”

The king ignored his sister.

“What was his name, this brother of yours?”

Bruce hadn’t spoken his brother’s name in decades.

“Danny. Daniel Wayne.”

The room was so silent he could have heard a pin drop.

“And you gave him a grave when he never returned to you.”

Bruce looked up at the king, who was looking back contemplatively. The king’s sister was staring up at her brother with her mouth agape.

“I did.”

The king was very, very quiet, and the moment stretched on and on and on.

After a time, the room grew darker as the green pool closed slowly, and the two ghosts landed with barely a whisper of sound.

“I died at age fourteen,” the king began, musing his own thoughts. “As I died, I thought that the color of the ectoplasm surrounding me was too familiar in color and movement for that to have been my first experience with a portal.”

He took a step towards Bruce.

“It was terrifying and I was so afraid that I would be ripped away from everything I ever loved again.”

Two bright white rings circled the king, and Bruce found himself looking at a man who looked just like his mother, but with a twitch of the lips that was entirely his father’s.

“Hello, Boo. I’m afraid I can’t remember your name properly.”

Bruce took his cowl off slowly, wanting his baby brother to see him despite the fact that he was crying.

“We’ve got his chin, Danny.”

The girl was standing a little behind Danny, smiling. She winked at Bruce.

“He always did want to find his bio family.”

Bruce held his hand out, and Danny took it, using his position and apparently superior strength to pull Bruce into a hug.

“Bruce. Bruce Wayne.”

“Danny Nightingale- well. Nightingale-Wayne, I suppose.”

~~~

Danielle Nightingale (Wayne?) watched her original and his brother(!?!) hug it out. The big man in black was obviously not used to hugs.

“Miss?”

She turned to the inquirer, the nice looking ambassador from before. (Sue her, Dani hadn’t been listening to the conversation. She had been trying to pinpoint the location of their grave!)

“How can I help?”

Ambassador lady smiled at her.

“We were unaware that our teammate had siblings, and clearly Daniel has introduced himself. May we ask your name?”

Dani grinned.

“Oh, I’m not a sibling. I’m sibling-adjacent. Sibling clone? One of those. My name is Danielle, but I go by Dani with an i. It gets a little confusing since he’s Danny with a y.”

“I see. Welcome to the Watchtower, Dani. May I ask what you and his majesty are looking for that was found here?”

“Our grave, of course! Since I’m Danny’s clone, I can feel it too- a little distantly, but it’s not like I’ll get my own. I was born dead.”

Ambassador lady was looking a little faint. Dani took pity on her.

“But now I’m a kickass princess, so all’s well that ends well.”

“I suppose so.” The ambassador looked over at Danny and surprise brother with a small smile. “I suppose so indeed.”

[writtingforfun]

Daemon Targaryen x reader

She’s Leana’s sister and married to daemon. On Leana’s funeral daemon and Rhaenys manage to convince Corlys to declare daemon son next lord of the tides. Later Rhaenyra try to talk to daemon about the issue saying her son should be lord of the tides. Daemon and reader just say to her that bastards won’t have the driftwood seat.

Hey, I hope you enjoy this and that it fits your request.

Daemon Targaryen x Velaryon!reader

He should be your heir

The three Velaryon siblings had always been close. They were both fire and sea; they burned as hot as dragon fire and were restless as the sea during a storm. They grew between both elements, they were taught the Valyrian ways, they claimed dragons and they felt at ease at the shores.

The first to wed had been the middle child, a girl of beautiful dark skin and silver curls. She had a tinge of purple circling her irises. After the sudden demise of Lady Rhea, she quickly connected with Prince Daemon, the most fascinating man she had ever met. The girl had been swooned by him from a very young age. Corlys had loudly celebrated this union, happy to unite the Velaryons to the Targaryens once again.

The second to wed had been Laenor. While both parents were happy with the chance to have their son be the future Queen's consort, worry had filled their family. They all knew of Laenor's taste, and his sisters supported him with all their hearts. Regardless of agreements between the heir and him, he'd still have to bed her and have new heirs. It's a pity it didn't work.

Laena was the last one to marry.

The two Velaryon girls were happy and in love with their husbands, as for Laenor... He was happy with his side piece.

Prince Daemon and his wife were expecting their first child just two moons after they were wed. A boy was born and they named him Aelor. Aelor was his father's twin in everything but the color of his skin, a true-born Targaryen and Velaryon.

In their 10 years together, they had been blessed with four children.

Aelor with 10 namedays, Maela and Gaellor, twins of 8 namedays and Taemon with just 4 namedays. And a soon-to-be brother or sister was in their mothers heavy belly, halfway of her term.

It had been excrutiating for her to hear the news of her dear sister's death on the birthing bed, she had collapsed on the floor with tears and loud screams of the pain of losing her.

They had lived at Driftmark for their entire marriage, only leaving to take their children on adventures across the skies. They had the perfect life; it was filled with laughter and joy as well as the warmth of their family. With Laenor living at the Red Keep and Laena at Pentos, it had been up to her to bring joy to her parents. Corlys and Rhaenys dotted on all of their grandchildren, but mostly on the ones brought by their youngest girl. They had brought sunlight to their lives after beeing separated from their other two children.

She made it her mission to greet everyone to ease the weight on her parent's shoulder, forgetting that she herself had a noticable weight to carry in safety. Daemon, always the caring and loving husband he was, never left her side or their children's side.

Not even when Rhaenyra had arrived as if she owned the place. "It will belong to my husband and my son after him", she had replied smugly when reprehended about her manners.

She was nervous and saddened, Laena had been a great friend to her. But to rub in her parent's face her light skinned children... it was too much.

Later that night she and Daemon had talked about how it should be their son, their Aelor, to sit on the throne of Driftmark, for he was the closest male heir after Laenor.

Rhaenys and Corlys laid in bed with saddness between them. They'd never see their Laena. At least they had the joy of their grandchildren. Aelor and Maella had made it their mission to cheer them up, to lift their spirits even if just a tad.

"Come in," Rhaenys said as someone knocked on their chamber's door.

"Mother, father. I hope we are not disturbing terribly"

"No, of course," Corlys hurried her and Daemon inside. She was always his favorite, his precious girl, the girl that always begged him to tell stories from when he was sailling across the continents.

"We need to talk"

"About?"

Daemon took the lead and explained their concerns "you know I'm right. It's Aelor's birthright. Everything in Rhaenyra's life is because she was the firstborn of my brother. With Laena gone and no children behind, it should be my wife and then our son who becomes Lord of the Tides."

Corlys exhaled frustrated, "History remembers names, not blood, Daemon"

"Everything is about blood, father. Everything. Fire runs through my veins. As does the sea. Where does Lucerys have that? Why should he sail as if he owned the place?"

"Because-"

Rhaenys cuts him before he can defend his thoughts "They are right, husband. Our trueborn grandchildren are left with nothing when her bastards inherit the throne as well as this seat. I love those boys, and Jace is in fact Rhaenyra's heir. But not Laenor's."

"To change it would be a blow to the Targaryens."

"Except he is a Targaryen." Daemon defends.

"Exactly. He does not bear the Velaryon name. Lucerys does."

"Name him your heir," Daemon says as he takes his wife's hand. "Name him and he will take my wife's name. Your name"

Rhaenys had been adamant on making sure her husband would choose correctly, and finally he did. Finally he saw it. Aelor Targaryen would come as Lord of the Tides after Corlys. Aelor Velaryon, of house Targaryen and Velaryon, Lord of the Tides, rider of Aemax.

The first Lord of the Tides to fly on top of a dragon and to sail on ship. To say that his parents were proud of him was to say the least.

But of course that Rhaenyra was not happy. While Laenor seemed content to be freed from having to step into his father's footsteps, she was mad.

"He is Laenor's son, he should be Lord of the Tides, not Aelor. Uncle," she pleaded "its not fair"

"Lucerys is anything but Laenor's son. They are bastards, and bastards don't take the Driftwood seat"

[xdacted]

The art of sibling hood

Paring: sister!Reader & Charles Leclerc

Warnings: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 3,815

Status: Complete

***Request made by reader***

Summer break offers us a sliver of peace. 

No teams are calling, no coaches screaming, no clients to take care of - there is nothing but family. For a few weeks out of the year, all we have is each other. I can’t ask for anything better. 

We all gather at our mother’s house, hiding away there with her. It’s nice, to all be under the same roof again, we haven’t been since Lorenzo first moved out. It only worsened when I decided to take my training to France. 16 years of living under one roof was gone in an instant. We had lived together our entire lives until that point. 

It was like losing a piece of myself. 

But then, after the sadness rolled away, I was filled with so much joy. To know that both Charles and Arthur were chasing their dream, to see them every weekend battling it out on the track. Though my mother refused to watch, I always did. 

But there is always more I want to know, more I want to see. I can’t help myself from asking questions. The countries they see, the people they meet - it’s a world I’ll never know. I almost got involved, my father put me in karting as a child, but it was never my passion. Not the way it was with Arthur and Charles. I found my calling in school. 

At six, I was sitting among my classmates in the gymnasium, watching as our instructor introduced the sport of fencing. He was trying to start a club, with a school as small as ours, it wasn’t very likely to happen. 

He brandished the swords, explaining the rules. My friend, Anies, had fallen asleep on my shoulder, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away. I was transfixed, hooked. That day, I ran home, with the club papers in my hand and begged my parents.

At first, Papa was hesitant, telling me that this sport was a fighting spot - I wasn’t a ‘fighting girl’. But I pleaded, hooking my arms around his neck and staring up at him. This was my dream. Fencing was racing to me. Fencing was everything. 

What I didn’t understand was that fencing was also incredibly expensive. With two children karting and one in fencing, I remember the night I caught Mum and Papa talking it over, they couldn’t afford it. 

I was lucky enough to be given a scholarship by a fencing club, I would have the funding to chase my dream. Arthur, however, was not so lucky. I remember how he cried, screaming and howling into his pillow. He mourned the loss of his sport, but he was never angry. Just sad. 

I shake off the memories when Charles calls my name. 

“What?”

He looks at me, staring at me from his seat on the floor, arms holding his knees close to him. He and Arthur are playing some card game they explained more than once - but I have never cared to learn. Arthur glares at the cards below him, flipping them over in his hand.

He laughs, “I asked how training was going?”

“Good,” I burrow further into the couch, pulling a blanket across my shoulders, “When I go back, I have a tournament in Italy.”

“Well,” Arthur huffs, still fixed on the game, “You’re already a World Champion - Ugh! Charles, you’re cheating! This is why I hate playing with you!”

Charles throws his hands up, turning to Arthur with an indignant expression, “I am not a cheater. I am a man of honor, you just suck.”

With a curse, Arthur throws his cards down. 

He stands, “You’re a cheat and you know it.”

“You just don’t know how to lose.”

Arthur throws himself beside me, moving the pillows so he can lean against them, crossing his arms in front of him. I don’t have to hide my laughter, I let it slip from me. The laughter is easy, the tension from yesterday gone. Charles had still been insistent on apologizing, even when I told him to just drop it. 

My brother is one of the kindest people in the world. 

“What about you?” I dare to ask, offering Arthur some of my blanket, “How’s Ferrari treating you?”

I don’t need to ask because I already know. Even from across the world, every Sunday, I watch him. Every Sunday, I watch my brother get into that car and put his life on the line. And every Sunday I watch Ferrari screw him over. My teammates were getting far too tired of my outbursts. 

Charles clears his throat, looking down at the cards scattered across the floor. He sweeps them together, shuffling them, “Fine.”

“Fine?”

I’m stepping on thin ice. My brothers like to assume that when it came to racing they knew everything, but I had grown up around this. My father was a racer and now my brothers were racers - it was in my blood. I had just chosen not to pursue it. 

“Yes, fine.” He pushes himself up, standing and walking to the edge of the couch. 

“If you say so, brother,” Charles opens his mouth to speak, but the sound of the doorbell cuts him off. 

He practically leaps over the couches, nearly tripping over the carpet, to throw the door open. My mother hardly has time to scold him as she steps inside her room because cheery voices are ringing out through the house. 

“Hello!”

Lorenzo comes bounding from upstairs and Arthur rolls off the couch, kicking the blanket away from him. The three women who step inside the house bring the light of the shining sun with them. 

“Girls!” I cry, it has been so long since I’ve last seen them. 

Carla sees me first, throwing her hands in the air. She pushes past Arthur to sweep me into a hug. The position is awkward, as her body curves over the couch and I attempt to reach up to her, but I can feel her laughter vibrate within her chest. 

“Did you get in today?” Her eyes are shining and the glasses perched atop her head threaten to fall, “Why didn’t you text me?”

“I wanted to surprise you, of course!” When we pull away, Charlotte and Alexandria are right beside us. 

“We need to get breakfast while you’re here,” Charlotte says, pressing her hands together. It isn’t so much a request as it is a plan in motion. 

I just nod along. I look around, my brother’s waiting behind them with crossed arms and a less-than-pleased expression. 

“What?”

“They’re supposed to be here to see us.”

“No,” Charlotte says, wrapping her arms around me, “We’re here for her and of course - Pascale.”

“Hello, dear,” Mum says, Carla placing welcoming kisses on her cheeks. 

I turn to my left, Alex having taken a seat in the open space that Arthur left. 

“Hey,” I whisper, pulling her close. 

“Hi,” She whispers back. 

There’s something different. I can tell when she hugs me, pressing a kiss on my cheek. When we pull away, there’s a glow to her skin and a twinkle in her eyes. 

“Is there -?” 

Charles is draped across her in a second, gentle hands on her shoulders, “She is my girlfriend. Please, do not be selfish.”

Alex only rolls her eyes and I can’t help but follow. 

What a drama queen. 

__________

I watch Charles and Alex as Mum bustles around the kitchen. It’s little, but something is different. I can feel it. Something about the way Charles has an arm curled around her waist or the way she clings to his arm. They keep eyeing the rest of us, Alex turning around to whisper in his ear. 

Hm. How strange. 

Alex was quite shy, this much became evident when I first met her, but she was by no means afraid of the family. Just a few weeks earlier she had come to visit me in France, we spent the day together and had been texting each other constantly. 

What could it be?

I met her eyes and she sharply turned away from me. 

A secret then. 

Papa liked to say that I inherited Mum’s gift for reading people, especially my brothers. Even when we’re separated by seas, I know when something’s bothering them. I know when something is wrong. 

But this - this was different. 

I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. 

But, my mind can help but wonder, what if - no. Could it be?

“Arthur.”

He hardly looks up from his phone, “Hm?”

“Wanna make a bet?”

“What kind of bet?” He asks, still scrolling. 

I lean in closer, “I think Alex is pregnant.”

Arthur nearly drops his phone. He whips his head over to look at me, mouth agape, “What?!”

“Sh!” I smack his arm, he is going to give us away, “You’re so loud…”

“Why do you think she’s pregnant?” He whisper-shouts, “That’s crazy. Charles would’ve told us.”

“Maybe he’s going to tell us tonight,” I shrug, pulling away from him. 

“Are you in or out?” I crossed my legs, my gut feelings were always strong. I’d guessed many things over the years and felt a change within the people around me before they told me. I’d known Charles got signed to Ferrari before he told us, or that Arthur was going to be moved to F2, or that Lorenzo had met someone new - all of these things, I’d felt. All of these things I guessed. 

Maybe I was a bit psychic. 

“You’re on,” He stuck his hand out, “€10?”

I scoffed, “That’s nothing - €100.”

“You could be wrong.”

“I could be right,” I looked down at his waiting hand. 

“€50?”

I slapped my hand in his, “€50 it is!”

“You’re going down,” He whispered, squeezing my hand. I kick at his shin.

“Ow!”

“That’s what you get, dumbass.”

“LANGUAGE!”

__________

Dinner is an easy affair. The time ticks by slowly, but none of us mind. Warm and laughter fill the house, everyone staying at the table after the food has long been eaten. Stories are tossed around and jokes float about, it's peaceful. 

A peace that’s so very addicting. 

Here, I can forget that I have to leave in only a few days. I can tell that the boys forget too, throwing themselves over Mum and the table. Arthur laughs so hard that he snorts and Lorenzo’s jokes have Charles reduced to tears - it’s all so nostalgic. 

As we eat, I can see Charles and Alex glance at each other, watching as he scoops her hand in his. She whispers something in his ear and he nods. 

Before I know it, they are both standing. 

“I,” He clears his throat, “I have something to say - well, we do, actually...”

“Well,” Alex begins, a bright smile pulling over her face, “Charles and I are expecting a - a child.”

The table erupts into cheers and exclamations. Mum drops her head into her hands, and before we can rush over, she looks up with tears in her eyes and a dazzling smile on her lips. We stand to offer them hugs and kisses, pats, and words of encouragement. 

“I told you!” I cry. 

Arthur lets out a loud groan, pushing his face into his hands, “Why?”

Confusion is written across their face and I can only laugh

I hold out a waiting hand.

With another groan and a roll of his eyes, he shoves his hand into his pockets, pulling out the €50 I’m owed. The bill is crunched and he drops it into my palm with little fanfare. 

“This is so unfair,” Arthur throws his arms around my shoulders, “How could you have possibly known?”

“I just do,” I shrug, looking up at him with a smile, “I’m just that good.”

“I knew it,” Carla giggles, “You are a psychic.”

I lock eyes with Mum over the table, she flashes me a smile.

“Of course,” I say, “I learned from the very best.”

__________

The ocean calls our name, the lull of the tides and the crashing of the waves. Such a beautiful song and we can do nothing but dance to it. With the sun shining down on our backs, we pile into Charles’s boat, clinging to the railing as we push away from the dock. The salt of the air tangles in my hair, and gentle winds give us a beautiful day. The weather was perfect, the sea was calm. What more could we ever ask for?

We spend the day lounging about the boat, pushing and shoving each other in the water. I manage to convince Charles to let me take the smaller boat out for a spin, with Carla clinging to the seats, and Charolette cheering us on from the deck above. I can’t help but dissolve into laughter at his face, twisted with worry. 

The water is cool against our heated skin, it invites us in for more. The longer we stay, the more we forget about the world that surrounds us. It is nearly enough to make me forget about my flight in only a few days. I will have to leave and this will all become a memory. 

But what a beautiful memory it will be. 

I can’t dwell on my thoughts, because Charlotte demands that we all jump. There is little fanfare for Charles and Lorenzo as they practically wrestle to the sea below. Arthur grips my hand as we jump, throwing ourselves into the Moncao air, caught by the arms of the sea. 

It is perfect. It is home. 

When the sun begins to dip in the sky, my mother draws herself up from the couch and claims that dinner will not ready itself. The others agree and begin to shuffle off but Carla and I are the last to get back from the boat. Though Charles has always held the title of ‘captain’, I have always maintained that the sea is but a little requirement for boating. We stayed behind to just lounge about in the sun, only coming back to the house when she got a frantic call from Arthur, telling her to come back. 

“What’s…” The words die in our throats when we see Alex huddled in the corner, sobbing into her hands. Charlotte stands over her, rubbing a reassuring hand over her back, whispering something into her ear. 

Before we can say another word, Arthur and Lorenzo interrupt us. He pulls us into a corner of the house, wiping his hands on his shorts. His eyes dart around the room, lip caught between his teeth. 

“What happened?” Carla demands. 

“It - it was the press,” Arthur manages, “They got pictures from earlier, on the boat.”

I need to hear little else. I dig my phone from my bag.

Finding the photo doesn’t take much work. It’s there as soon as I open Twitter, Alexandria and Charles standing on the balcony of the boat. Her hands on her stomach, nothing there to show - not yet - but the implication is enough for the media to run with. 

I can hardly breathe. 

Anger coils tight within me. 

Fucking vultures. 

Carla gasps from beside me, pressing a hand to her mouth. The headlines make my stomach turn. Far too atrocious to look at, I shove my phone back into my bag. Carla is quick to slip from beside me, rushing over to the couch, and dropping to her knees beside Alex. 

Haven’t they gone through enough? Have people not thrown Alex into the fire already? Had they not already ripped her apart? I remember the articles and the tweets when their relationship went public, the look of sadness on her face. People hated her simply because she loved Charles. How they got together and why they got together was no one’s business but their own. 

“Where -” I cut myself off, dropping my voice lower, “Where’s Charles?”

For a moment, Lorenzo doesn’t answer me, phone in hand. I can’t tell who’s calling, but the grave look on his face is all I need to know. He shakes his head, dragging a hand through his hair. 

“He’s outside,” He whispers, sparing a look over at Alex, “He stormed out and won’t come back in.”

“Of course! He’s upset!” I hiss, this was private. This was personal. The media has taken that away from him. 

Lorenzo holds his hands up, “I’m not saying he shouldn’t be - I’m not saying that I’m not,” He sighs, “But this is more - this is more than just…”

He looks away, rubbing a hand over his face, “He can’t run from this now.” 

I turn away from Lorenzo and the tears begin to gather in my eyes before I can gather the courage to force them back. I wrap my arms around myself, afraid that I might throw something across the room. 

This wasn’t right. 

Summer is our time. 

There is never any anger, never any sadness. That’s the world that waits beyond the walls of our home, that is the world we leave behind. We shut it all out because summer break is just us. I don’t realize that I’ve begun to dig my fingers into the flesh of my arm until Arthur yanks my hands away. 

He doesn’t say anything, just squeezing my hands in his. I can’t look at him, but I feel his gaze on me. When he releases me, my hands drop back down to my sides. I suck in a large gulp of air, trying to calm the pounding of my heartbeat. 

Before I can make my way to Alex, Charlotte stops me. She holds her hand up, a sad smile on her face. 

‘We’ve got it,’ She mouths, ‘Go.’

Her eyes flicker to the terrace, doors closed tightly. I can see, in the shadows of the darkness, Charles. 

“I’ll be back,” I whisper, reaching out to squeeze Arthur’s shoulder before I walk towards the doors. 

I gently push them open, waiting for Charles to scream out that he wasn’t privacy, that he needs space, but he never does

I step through. 

Charles stands out on the balcony, hands clutching onto the terrace railing. He stares into the swaying trees of our backyard, the melting sun casting a glow around the shadow of the house. Though the wind blows, there is no twinkle of windchimes. There is no echo of laughter or memory of youth, there is nothing. The light from the entry room spills across his back, but he doesn’t turn. 

The silence is thick, sitting heavily atop the both of us. With his back turned to me, I can’t see his face. There’s a selfish part of me that never wants to. I never want to see the pain and anger on my brother’s face. I never want to watch his heart fall apart before me. He is my family, an extension of myself. 

“Why can’t they just leave us alone?” 

His voice is hardly above a whisper, nearly consumed by the distant sounds of the city, but I hear. It cuts through the silence, piercing it with ease. There is sadness in his voice and I can feel the tears burn once more. His shoulders slump forward, a heavy sigh leaving his lips. For a movement, I fear that he might collapse. 

I take a tentative step forward. 

My brother is many things. Charles is competitive and rash, he is hard-working and self-deprecating. But he is also kind and forgiving, with a smile like the sun and a laugh like the sea. He is good. Our Papa used to say that Lorenzo and I got all the anger and bite, as it never seemed that Charles could hate, to be spiteful. 

Always the first to take the blame, always the first to vouch, always the first to arrive, always the last to go. 

My brother is good. 

And the world is cruel. 

“Charles,” I whisper, he doesn’t turn.

I reach for him, my fingertips barely grazing the fabric of his shirt, “Charles.”

He finally turns, biting his lip, tears in his eyes. The words die in my throat. There is nothing I can say to fix his pain, nothing I can do to take his unhappiness away. It kills me. They may be my older brothers, but I have always been fiercely protective of them. To hurt them was to hurt me - and to hurt them was unforgivable. 

And Charles. 

Charles, who flew through the night to catch my competitions. Charles, who cheered me on, even if he knew nothing about fencing. Charles, who always had an extra Paddock Pass for me. Charles, who always let me have his last cookie or pastry. Charles, who held me when I wailed for weeks after Papa’s passing. Charles put the money he earned in Formula 1 into getting Arthur back into carting. Charles, who always called to scream ‘Happy Birthday’ in my ear. 

That Charles. 

My brother Charles, would forgive. He will see it as a mistake, he will blame himself. In only a few hours, he will make a statement and tell the truth - because that’s just who he is. 

I throw my arms open and catch him as he falls into them. 

He doesn’t cry, not at first, just clinging onto me. But then, the moment that Alex’s cries drift onto the open terrace, he begins to weep. He sobbed into my shoulder, pressing his wet face into the fabric of my shirt. He clutches my hand, and I can do nothing but hold him. 

I hold him and let him fall apart. 

From over Charle’s shoulder, I see Arthur peeking out at us. He wrings his hands, twisting his fingers around. He can’t sit still, pacing around the room, brushing Carla away when she tries to calm him. 

I gesture for him to come and he does. 

Before I can say a word, he’s wrapping his arms around Charles, burying his face into his back. 

“We’ll fix this,” He mumbles, “I - I don’t know how, but we will.”

Charles doesn’t speak, he just searches for Arthur’s hand blindly in the pile of libs and holds on. It’s all we can do. I feel like I am 15 years old, losing our father again. It feels just as it did then, unbearable. But we do just what we did then, we hold each other. Clinging onto the only people that we have known since before we knew them, the only people that will love us even when no one else does. 

The only person -

Lorenzo is there, strong arms trying to tuck us all into him. I can feel his warmth against my back and push my face into his chest. 

“We’ve got you, Charlie,” He says, “We’ve got you.”

We do. 

We always will. 

_________________________

A/N:This work has been cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. All are under the name XDACTED. Thank you for reading and feel free to request fics about any of the drivers <3

[theaceofarrows]

Imagine for a moment that instead of taking them back to when their parents were in high school. The pocket watch took Red and Chloe back to the day Bridget lost the rest of her family.

And listening to the screams and devastation...Red has a moment of thinking ...oh heck...this is it....THIS what pushed my mother over the edge to be 'heartless'...It wasn't JUST the prank, it was LOSING HER HEART, as she lost the REST of our family....

I know I say this a lot, but I can't imagine all the emotions that Red would be going through in that moment when she sees that.

Red is the type of person who jumps straight in when she needs to defend someone (like she did for young Bridget when the VKs showed up in Life Is Sweeter), but it wouldn't be surprising if she froze before she could do much. It wouldn't be a stretch if Red thought the watch had messed something up and was somehow making her see things because what she's seeing can't be real, can it?

Her father is the dead King of Hearts who was whispered to have been killed by her mother. The dead King of Hearts, whose name she doesn't even know because it's outlawed from being spoken and is a crime punishable by death. That can't be her father, can it?

She is an only child. She doesn't and has never had brothers or sisters. Her mother is tight-lipped about the time before Red was born, yes, but surely, she would have mentioned if she had other children before Red that she so clearly loved. Wouldn't she?

I have no doubt that after a few moments of the initial shock wearing off that Red WOULD run at the guards to stop them, but by then, despite Red kicking, punching, and tackling as many guards as she can, even with Chloe using her sword to help, they're two teenagers against dozens of trained men, it's too late.

The man that's apparently Red's father has been knocked unconscious, surrounded by the bodies of men he's killed or injured. Her young siblings kick and scream and cry for their parents, as they're being carried away, but no matter how hard they try, they can't win against grown men. All of this happens while her mother is being held back by multiple guards, screaming, demanding, and pleading for them to release her family. It's no use.

When Auradon's guards have left with her family and Red sees her mom on her knees, sobbing, and absolutely broken, for the first time, Red understands the grief that's followed her mother for sixteen years.

Chloe is having so much conflict. She's spent her whole life knowing exactly who the good guys are and who the bad guys are. So now why does she feel sick to her stomach after witnessing what Auradon, the good guys just did to the bad guys? After witnessing something that her parents supported?

And all of this is within just the first hour. Overall, this would be so much heavier for both Red and Chloe than just ending up at Merlin Academy.

Sorry if this doesn't make sense with the way I worded it. My wording keeps coming off like a pov, and that KoH part was 100% just my headcanon. I once again got carried away.

Thank you so much for the ask! I definitely had a lot of thoughts on this.

[atopvisenyashill]

I know the ep just aired but as a fellow Saera stan, do you have any headcanons on her relationship with Hugh? We got breadcrumbs from his lines about how he was told he was “just as good as her brother’s boys” but I’m always interested to see how other fans interpret these breadcrumbs

YES. I fully expect some of this to get Joss-ed it's fine.

Okay first of all, I have always loved the idea that Saera named all her kids after her, and so I have now added the headcanon that Hugh changed his name when he immigrated to Westeros for like Saergar to Hugh. We know I like funny stuff, but I suppose I’ve also always felt like Saera just loses it once she’s in Essos. She spent a year being subjected to some sort of religious abuse, after being forced to watch her father murder her boyfriend for having pre marital sex with her, and then becomes a sex worker herself (and that's not even getting into the sexual abuse she definitely experienced at Jaehaerys hands). For comparison, I kind of imagine the Sailor’s Wife, who is clearly working through some shit with her ritual, but crueler and sharper. She’s using her job as a sex worker to work through her own sexual trauma, and I bet some of it is not healthy or healing at all, it’s just retraumatizing herself. I think probably she became slightly more balanced when moved to Volantis and owned her own brothel, or at least, I hope she became slightly more balanced. I’ve always imagined that she very much parentifies every single one of her children, acting more like a crazy party loving sister than a mother, but most of them don’t mind that she does this because they have picked up on the fact she went through something god awful back home. Also, because she makes a lot of money for herself, I do imagine the fact that their mom is just a crazy rich lady is easier to swallow (being comfortable money wise always makes these things easier to swallow).

I like the idea that Hugh left because he wanted an identity that wasn't tied to the Targaryens and specifically to his mother's clearly insane mental state. He’s one of the handful of Saerlings that was born in Lys, so things were still shaky, they didn’t have their own place, they were living in the brothel, they would play in the tavern area while she took clients, and it bothered him that this was how they lived. So he sheds the name she gave him for one more Andal sounding, he comes to King’s Landing with a bit of money, an apprenticeship lined up, and a story about how his parents were simple Lyseni merchants who died before he could make any lasting memories of them.

I think he always felt very different from the rest of the his siblings. I like to imagine he is one of the oldest, at least the oldest boy, and very much felt a fatherly sort of responsibility towards his mother. I think he resented the fact that not only did none of his siblings share his worry over her increasingly deranged mental state, they seemed to think that owning her own brothel would work better for her, would help her. He thought she should completely leave sex work and retire somewhere simple, give up what he feels is a ~life of sin. It's not that he thinks his mother is sinful, it's that he thinks she's sick and being preyed upon by others. While everyone else was fascinated with her drunken rants about Westeros, Hugh was always horrified. Horrified at the stories she told of parents who did not take care of her, of daughters sold off to husbands at too young an age, of wars fought atop terrifying beasts in the sky. He wanted to save her, his fallen Madonna of a Mother, from the ghosts that haunted her.

When she moved the family to Volantis, he finally left. He couldn't take watching her self destruct anymore. It's not until his own little girl is sick and starving to death that he remembers how much being wealthy is a boon in times of strife. And suddenly his mother's stories of dragons aren't so terrifying...what if he's strong enough to protect Kat on his own? If he goes in with his eyes wide open to the kinds of people the Targaryens are...what if he can beat the demons that consumed his mother?

[atthedugouts]

Zoo Day

Mickey scrunches up his face at the smells of the zoo. He doesn’t understand why people enjoy coming here. It all smells like shit and wet dog. But once Svetlana heard that the Lincoln Park Zoo was free she declared that Sunday would be a family day with mandatory attendance. Mickey knows at this point that he has to pick his battles wisely with his wife, he’s hoping that if he plays along with this dumb family day then he can leverage it as a way to get out of fixing the front porch that Svetlana has been nagging him about. Ian didn’t need any convincing, right as Svetlana brought up the zoo Ian jumped up to start making the sandwiches they would bring for lunch. Mickey had to stop his boyfriend reminding him that Sunday was three days away.

Sunday had arrived and now Mickey was staring at a monkey taking the longest piss he’s ever seen. The monkey kind of looked like Iggy, he took a video to send to the sibling group chat.

Mickey followed his family as they went from exhibit to exhibit. Ian read aloud all the animal facts to Yevgeny and Svetlana. Yev asked a bunch of stupid questions and Mickey did not understand how Ian had the patiences to answer all of them.

“Can it fly?”

“No buddy, ostriches can’t fly.”

“Why not?”

“Because they use their long legs to run really fast.”

“Why do they have wings?” 

“Uh, to cool themselves when they get hot.”

“Oh,” Yevgeny said, nodding his head.

“You know you could just say you don’t know,” Mickey tells Ian. “The kid ain’t going to be upset if you don’t know every animal fact.”

Ian shrugs his shoulders. “I like seeing him smile.”

When the four of them were eating their PB&Js at a picnic table Mickey witnessed another father with a bag with the zoo logo. The father proudly reaches into the bag and pulls out a stuffed lion. Mickey felt a little pain in his stomach. He didn’t have money to surprise Yevgeny with a souvenir.

“I wanted a tiger!” the little boy shouts.

“Uh, ungrateful child,” Svetlana scolds. Apparently Mickey wasn’t the only one watching this family.

“Sorry buddy,” the dad apologizes. “All they had were lions.”

“That’s very nice of your dad, right?” the mother tries to calm the child with his very loud public tantrum.

“I wanted tiger!”

“I know buddy, but the zoo store didn’t have any,” the dad looked like he was about to cry. Fucking North siders spoil their children so much that the parents lose all control of the hierarchy in the family structure. The brat doesn’t deserve the dumb stuffed animal.

“Come on,” the mother pleads. “Take the lion and I’ll buy you cotton candy.”

“Fine,” the spoiled child relents. He takes the lion from his dad and they head off to buy cotton candy. Once the parents weren’t looking, the kid dropped the stuffed animal in a bush.

“Don’t grow up to have attitude like that,” Svetlana tells Yevgeny. 

“OK mama,” Yev says.

They finished up their lunch and started to head to the bears. As they pass the bush with the discarded lion Mickey overhears two zoo employees.

“Hey, there’s a lost lion in here,” one says, reaching for the stuffed animal.

“Go take it to lost and found at customer service, I’ll let our lead know where you are,” the other says.

Mickey gets an idea that he can’t shake. He turns to Ian. “I’m gonna head to the parking lot for a smoke.”

“OK,” Ian says. “Text me when you’re done and I’ll let you know where we are.”

“Sure thing mom,” Mickey says, rolling his eyes.

He met up with them at the penguins. Mickey did go to the parking lot for a smoke but on his way back in he stopped by the lost and found to inquire about a lost stuffed lion.

“Hey little man guess what?” Mickey says when he meets up with his family again.

“A lion!” Yevgeny beams at the surprise. He jumps up and takes the lion Mickey has holding out for him. Yev then hugs Mickey in the tightest hug that his little five year old body could muster up. “Thank you dad!”

“Sure thing,” Mickey says, unable to hide his smile.

“You bought toy?” Svetlana says. Mickey can tell that she’s trying not to sound angry in front of Yev in public. Trying to not to be like the other family that she just talked bad about.

“Naw, it was free,” Mickey clarifies.

“Did you steal from that North side kid?” Ian accuses.

“You think I stole from a kid?” Mickey says, raising his eyebrows.

Ian responded by giving his signature chin look.

“Fuck you,” Mickey says. “The toy was lost and I went and found it. No rule saying I had to give it back to that brat. ‘Sides, Yevgeny deserves it more. That Richy fucking Rich propably has a whole room of stuffed animals.”

Ian’s face turns soft as he smiles at Mickey warmly.

“You’re a good dad,” Ian says.

“Shut up.”

“No , it’s true. When I was Yevy’s age Frank took us to the zoo and tried to put me in the gorilla enclosure. I think he was trying to scam the zoo into a lawsuit but instead got us all banned.”

“What are you going to name him?” Svetlana asks.

“Lincoln!” Yevgeny shares.

“Clever,” Mickey says half heartedly. “Come on little man, let’s see the giraffes.”

“Why do giraffes have long necks?” Yevgeny asks.

“Don’t know, but I’m sure Ian will think of the answer once we get there.”

[ty-loves]

The Briar Family, Brindleton Bay’s Renowned Undertakers 🪦🕊️

The Briar family are well known in Brindleton Bay, for many reasons, but mainly for being the towns best & only morticians for the past 45 years. Originally founded by Ruth & Wren Briar, on the land they bought to raise their children, the Briarwood Mortuary has remained family owned through its entire existence. Pictured above are the current owners & employees.

Lawrence Briar: 47 y/o, eldest son of Ruth & Wren Briar, father of Flo & Mars, current owner & funeral director

Moira Stone-Briar: 43 y/o, 1st wife of Lawrence Briar, mother of Flo & Mars, co-owner & service manager

Florence Briar: 21 y/o, eldest child of Moira & Lawrence, funeral cosmetologist

Mars Briar: 17 y/o, youngest child of Moira & Lawrence, student

Friday Stone: 30 y/o, youngest living sibling of Moira Stone-Briar, aunt of Flo & Mars, no affiliation to Briarwood

Diana Moore: 38 y/o, current assistant

——under the cut, is a short story/intro for Moira/the family. Please read if you would like🫶🏾 this is probably my longest post to date😭

24 year old Lawrence met 21 year old Moira during a weekend trip in The Quarter. By the end of the weekend, the two, young & naive, had decided to elope. They were completely infatuated with each other, this infatuation fueled their new found romance. The newly weds Lawrence Briar & Moira Stone then decided to move to Brindleton Bay to start their family. Moira’s upbringing was nothing short of spectacular, although Moira & her siblings grew up in the garden community of Willow Creek, they never had the best home life or parental guidance. It was always their dream to get away from the Creek & live the lives they desired. But what exactly were the Stone siblings running from? & where were they hoping to go? After all they grew up fairly wealthy & from the outside looking in, the Stones seemed like the perfect family. When Moira left Willow Creek, she thought she’d finally be able to have the family she wanted, she didn’t yet know who her new husband really was & the family he came from. She didn’t know who he’d become.

Now at 43, Moira is grappling with the remains of her mangled marriage. What was once a whirlwind romance, full of whim, was now a seasoned 25 year relationship that has persisted through two children, multiple affairs, & a revolving door of family assistants & nannies. Through everything, Moira stayed, after all divorce was never really an option. It didn’t matter how much she despised their marriage, Lawrence’s mother would never risk her family’s public image. So there she was. Stuck. Stunted. Haunted by her past & her husband’s lies. She could’ve never known this wouldn’t be her happily ever after, she didn’t even know what was awaiting her the day they took their last family picture.

Lawrence’s latest affair would soon come to light and this time, there was no way to hide it. There was a new member joining the Briar family and it definitely wasn’t coming from Moira. Moira wasn’t surprised, she knew, eventually, this would happen. Every assistant and nanny she hired, fell prey to Lawrence. But this time she felt, relieved, unstuck. She was finally going to divorce Lawrence and free herself of the Briar family & Brindleton Bays overbearing culture. She even thought about reconnecting with her own family, her siblings scattered around the country, her parents still in the Creek. Her children had only known life in Brindleton Bay and she wanted them to see her home. But Lawrence would never let that happen. To him, Moira was a possession he wasn’t ready to let go of. He wasn’t ready to lose his family.

[jennapancake]

Love Made Me Crazy

Luke Castellan x Aphrodite!Reader

Part 1 of 2

Warnings: Angst, heartbreak, Reader is referred to as y/n and as female, kissing, implications of death, not proof-read.

Summary: Aphrodite children are required to break their first loves heart in order to avoid tragedy. What happens when reader breaks luke castellans heart in order to save him when he's already on the edge.

A/n: Hi this is my first time ever writing so please be nice. I'm trying my best. Thank you for reading!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The tears poured as I stared at the lake in front of me. The inability to determine if it were the sobs that raked my body or the cold night air causing me to shiver as I prayed to the goddess I knew to be my mother. I prayed for her to spare me from this "initiation" as she calls it. To spare me from having to break my best friends heart in order to save him and myself.

Luke had been my best friend since the day I set foot in camp. It was 5 years ago. Luke had arrived not long before me, but he still chose to show me around camp. The boy and I became close after that and even closer when the two of us continued to stay in the Hermes cabin as his father claimed him and my godly parent refused to be asserted with me in any way. The comfort shared between us both was hardly unnoticed but it drew our bond close.

And yet now, I have to break this bond we share due to some horrible rule my mother has set for her children. The same rule she set for me, the child she ignored for almost a year after I set foot in this camp.

"Please mom just this once favor me and my choices and allow me to avoid breaking both his heart and mine. Allow me to stay with him without the consequences please." I'd been sobbing prayers like this since the sun set. I knew it was useless. I knew I wouldn't get a response and even if I did it would never be in my favor.

"y/n?" I don't know how long it had been since I strayed from my siblings at dinner to sit here but I knew it had been hours as Drew came up behind me. "Are you okay?" The girl asked, a gentle hand on my shoulder as she sat next to me.

"I'm okay" I nodded, quickly wiping the tears that stained my cheeks. "Just admiring the lake and some alone time ya know?" I let out a fake laugh that sounded almost like a sob as I turned to look at the girl.

"It's about the rule, isn't it?" She asked, a sympathetic look clouding her beautiful features. I nodded in response to which she pulled me close. "It'll be okay. I know you love him but it's better than meeting a horrific end." She says and I know she's right and I know I have to do it soon. "Silena and I will be there to help you through it too. We won't let you go through this alone."

"I know. Its just hard knowing we have to end just because of some stupid rule my mother made. Just another reason why for our parents to dictate our lives." I sniffled and she nodded, combing her fingers through my hair to calm me.

"I understand, love. Its just another reason why our parents won't be winning any parent of the Year awards. However I'd rather you get both your hearts broke than lose you to a Shakespearean level tragic ending." She says, the eye roll evident in her tone as she says the last few words.

I know she's been through this before with other siblings. But even if love doesn't kill me how does she know the next quest won't.

"I just want you to be happy and alive. You'll find other men who will love you, you're a daughter of Aphrodite after all."

But I don't want anyone else.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning....

I had made up my mind or at least I thought I had stopped by training to see Luke before breakfast and his counselor duties.

"Luke!" I called a smile on my face. I had decided to risk it all. I was in love and nothing could break us apart, not after three years pining after each other and almost a full year together. I was not letting us go.

Luke smiled at me, telling his class to take a break as he ran over to me. Except right before he got to me an Apollo kid was disarmed and the blade of his sword was mere inches from Luke's head, landing right in front of my feet.

The smile draining from my face as I wondered if this was a coincidence. I know I was told there was little time left before an ending began to appear but was it really starting now. Were these the warning signs?

I pushed those thoughts away as the boy came closer after scolding the kids. "Hey, are you okay?" He asked, grabbing both my cheeks gently and giving me a worried look as he checked me for any injuries.

"I'm fine," I gave him a reassuring smile "I should be the one asking if you're okay. That sword almost took your head off." I gestured to the sword with my head as the boy chuckled.

"Yeah, Apollo kids aren't the best with swords." He joked but shook his head, "but I'm all good. Especially now that I get to see you." He smirked before pulling me into a kiss.

That was only the first straw in one big hay barrel that was today. Throughout the day, I almost drowned, Luke almost got run over by a group of centaurs, I almost got shot by archers since no one told me they moved the archery field, and Luke almost fell into the rack of spears.

And all of this happened before lunch.

"Silena you don't understand. I thought it'd be okay if we stayed together but everything is falling apart today. Luke and I have been in so many dangerous positions today it's insane." I practically yelled as the girl brushed my hair.

"Are you sure you're not overthinking everything? It was a rough night for you. Maybe you're just seeing the everyday dangers more today?" Silena was always the voice of reason but I knew it was just excuses to comfort me.

Silena never wanted Luke and me to break up. As she put it we were her best accomplishment and the cutest couple at camp, all thanks to her help for finally getting us together.

"Sil, you and I both know it's starting. I can't lose him cause of my own selfishness. I'm gonna have to break up with him." I say, tears filling my eyes at the thought.

"or you could tell him the truth and let him decide your fate?" She shrugs and I shake my head.

"I know what he'll choose and I can't do that to him. I can't let him decide to be with me when it'll result in the end for both of us."

My mind was made up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Luke and I were sat on the docks, the cool breeze of the night blowing between us as we stared at the star in silence, until Luke spoke up and the end began.

"So what did you want to talk about that was so important?" He asked, a small smile on his face as he glanced at me, the hand he was holding between us, squeezed mine tightly until I forced myself to pull it from his hold.

"oh uh, Luke I don't know how to say this.." I sighed as I played with my camp necklace to comfort myself as I spoke to the boy in front of me.

"Hey it's okay. " The boy reached out the touch my arm "Whatever it is we'll get through it together." He smiled gently which only caused my heart to ache more.

I shook my head and stood up quickly in order to look away from the boy and take my chance to pace on the dock as I do the hardest thing I've ever done in my life.

And that's saying a lot seeing as a fought two minotaurs at once.

"Luke we need to break up." I said as quickly as possible, knowing if I didn't blurt it out the words would never come.

"woah what?" The boy quickly stood to come over to me "y/n what do you mean we need to?"

"I mean we can't be together anymore, Luke." I said, tears forming in my eyes as I look up at him.

"Why? I thought we were doing good. Whatever it is we can work through it. Just talk to me. Why so suddenly are you saying this?" Luke asks, tears filling his water line and I shake my head.

"This isn't something we can get out of, Luke. This is something we have to go through in order for me to protect you. I'm sorry, Luke."

And so I ran in order to avoid any more questions, in order to avoid changing my mind, in order to protect the boy I was crazy in love with.

I would have risked my life for him if it meant getting to stay with him for all eternity but I couldn't bring myself to risk his life for a life on the run from a never ending tragedy.

If only I wasn't an Aphrodite Kid....

End of Part 1.

Next part will be Luke's POV and where more of a dark Luke esc will come in and as well as the aftermath of the moment. Again thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed!

[laurancezvahlslefteyebrow]

I’ve been thinking about a bunch of random mcd related thoughts lately but haven’t really written any of them down so here are some headcanons and random thoughts i’ve had as of late:

It is O’khasian royal family tradition to name the first born child (male or female) after the father, and the second after the mother. Any other children may be named whatever the parents please. Garroth is named after Garte, the two names being variations of the other. Zane is named after Zianna. Garroth Ro’meave was actually the name of Garte’s father.

Vylad’s birth father was the royal gardener. He and Zianna fell in love and had an affair, and when Garte found out, Zianna’s lover went on the run. Because of this, Zianna can often be found in her garden.

On another, completely unrelated note, Vylad died in his mother’s garden. His body was found in the roses.

The reason there are SO MANY named/main characters in mcd is because we see the world through Aphmau’s POV and she genuinely cares about everyone. She cares enough to learn the name of each and every person she speaks to, often becoming a close friend.

The Zvahl siblings. Laurance is older by two years. HOWEVER, Cadenza acts much more like an older sibling. Reason being their lives prior to being adopted by Joh and Hayden. Laurance was an only child and had to fend for himself for years after losing his parents. Sure he cared for the other town orphans, but he never lost that only child-ness. Cadenza however, was an older sister. She was 12 when she was separated from her 5 year old sister. And once an older sister, always an older sister.

I think Garroth physically changes the most throughout the series. In the beginning, he was in his mid to late 20s, and hadn’t even been away from O’khasis for 10 years. Though he always wore his helm, he kept his hair short and orderly, and his face cleanly shaven. He was also built very similarly to Laios from Dungeon Meshi. However, as time goes on, and his life falls more and more apart, as he matures and grows as a person, his appearance changes quite a bit. His hair grows out, revealing a head of golden curls. He begins growing an actual beard and he fills out, gaining some weight. By the end of the series, he’s early to mid 30s

Also! Garroth kept his hair short and face shaven partly because of the internalized need to look professional and powerful at all times (thanks prince training), but also because it was the only way the helm was bearable 24/7