#my sister physically recoiled when i showed her

[smol-yet-toll]

Be me

Checking out American Dragon: Jake Long

Hear him talk

It Zuko's voice

...

Using 80's slang

[elexaria]

it was hard for simon to grieve when johnny died. price turned an eye when they got back to base and the first thing simon did was go and lay in johnny’s cot, curled up into a ball. they were close, they were best friends.

he feels a pang of guilt at johnny’s funeral, the sound of bagpipes overwhelming his already heightened senses. one of the mactavish sisters stops in her tracks and makes her way over to simon, who’s stood smoking by the floral donations. “i’m sorry for yer loss, ghost.” she whispers out to him, teary eyed and sniffly. he blinks down at her, albeit slightly confused. “pretty sure i’m the one supposed to be sayin’ that to you.” he replies with a dry writ, clearing his throat as he nods down at her. she lets out a quiet laugh, albeit a saddened one. it’s a brief interaction on an unfortunate occasion, but it lets simon come to realise something— johnny loved him.

simon’s not one for wakes, but he’s not one to pass up a good buffet. yet, for some reason, he finds himself awkwardly stood in the corner of the room, his weary eyes watching everyone converse. johnny’s mom, eileen, makes her way over to simon— and it’s crazy how much johnny looked like his mam, same smile, same deep blue eyes that simon became rather fond of.

“my john even got his beard from me,” eileen jokes, laughing her head off as she rubs her peach fuzz. it makes simon’s lips twitch, a chuckle rumbling in his throat. the chuckles dissipate, when ms mactavish reaches out to stroke simon’s cheek. simon riley’s not one for showing his face, but he wanted to do this for him. at first, simon has to fight against every muscle that wants to recoil out of her touch, to scuttle away further into the corner he finds himself stood in. but instead, his nostrils flare as he peers down at the little scottish lady that’s affectionately rubbing his cheek, and it’s almost as if johnny’s still there. “he loved ye, simon. i wish we could’ae met ye when our john was still around.”

simon can’t bear to watch as johnny’s room is packed up, he feels sick to the stomach. it makes everything worse, seeing him being physically scrubbed from base, from the only resemblance of a home simon’s ever had. laswell leaves a small box outside of his quarters, giving him a curt nod as she lets him pick it up and bring it into his room. it brings a smile to his face, just for a moment, as he cradles the cardboard box in his arms— a threadbare scottish flag johnny had pinned up on his wall, some of his old action figures he had kept from childhood, a few sketchbooks. and a note.

his stomach knots up at the sight of the letter, shakily placing it besides him as he flips through the sketchbooks first, the pads of his calloused fingers stroking fondly over every graphite smudge and ink blot on the pages. finding himself laughing hysterically over johnny’s drawing of price’s dick tickler moustache, and he nods in agreement that it should, indeed, be neutralized. the little scribbles of football scores, shitty and dirty limericks and even coffee cup rings on the pages just… it makes simon feel like he’s inside johnny’s mind, and it feels homely.

simon’s heart aches when he comes across the sketches of himself in johnny’s sketchbook, eyes welling up as he fights back the onslaught of tears that threaten to patter down onto the precious pages below. they were so beautiful. they made ghost, a husk of a man, look… alive. and he begins to breathe heavier, seeing small love hearts and silly cartoon drawings of johnny and simon doing stupid shit— like the time johnny and simon came up with a wager that if neither of them settled down come their mid-30s, they’d move to the countryside and get a dog or two.

why the fuck did you have to go and die for, johnny?

the sketchbook tour comes to its conclusion, the final sketchbook only half way through before, well, the artist passed. and so, the letter sits, almost as if there’s a spotlight casting down on it — screaming out to be read. it really gets on simon’s nerves how his hands will not stop shaking, but he pulls through and begins to open up the envelope that reads ‘for ghosty and ghosty only’, the underside of the envelope reading ‘i mean it!!’ with an angry face. it makes simon’s stoic expression crack into a grin, rolling his eyes as he continues to open it up.

the letter reads:

“well pal, if you’re reading this, it means i’m dead as fuuuck. oh well, it’s something we have to accept in our line of work, innit?

maybe i’ll get really lucky, you won’t have to read this letter and we can just laugh about it when we’re retired, living our best lives in the countryside with our wee dugs. cos you know you’ll never settle down, monsi, i’m the only bastard out there who can handle you!!!

but … on the odd chance i’m wrong (which is rarely the case cos i’m handsome and smart), it was great knowing you. you’re the bestest friend a mug like me could ask for, and i’m glad we found each other. gay, i know. whatever. i fucking love ya, pal. always and forever. dickface!!!

in another lifetime, maybe we can find each other again. although, don’t know if i can handle you being a brit again in this alternate universe haha. i don’t love you that much!!!

all my love,

yer johnny xx”

an emotional chuckle escapes from simon’s lips, tear stained cheeks flushing a light crimson colour as he sharply inhales, eyes shutting tightly as he holds the note to his chest. and for the first time, in a very long time, simon allows himself to cry. heaving his chest, snotty nosed as he really sobs it all out.

his entire life, he’s been beaten down, abused, witnessed family (both blood and found) being killed. but losing his best friend no, his soulmate, is the very thing that breaks his heart the most.

maybe, in another universe, johnny missed that bullet. and right now, in that universe, johnny and simon allow themselves a moment to breathe, comfortable in each other’s presence.

in another universe.

[agendabymooner]

9 to 5 || f1 drivers (2)

(SPIN OFF OF COLOUR ME YOUR COLOUR (WIP) and RUSH)

Summary: Lorelei Hester ‘Lester’ Alessandro is a bassist first and Daniel Ricciardo’s partner second. But it seems like another role is added to her resume as she begins her weekend in Baku as Toto Wolff’s children’s babysitter. 

Chapter summary: How do you react when someone gives out your number without letting you know? Simple: poorly.

Content warning: family-centric content, Max Verstappen and Lester being a duo of menaces, some Brits flirting or something, a filler chapter, brief use of explicit language.

Note: I am ✨excited✨ for the next chapter. It's my best wholesome content yet. It's not that exciting but writing it had me giggling and kicking my feet. Also thinking about releasing some smau with mv1 and a hearth sister ofc of mine. enjoy xx

masterlist

ii. max's lowered iq and linkedin profiles

“Ouch! What the fuck—“ Max looked up to meet Lester’s bright eyes darkening. He spewed out, “You need to start saying, “Hello, Max. How are you Max” instead of shaking the IQ off my head.” 

“Well it’s not like you’ll have a lower brain to worry about, hm?” Lester scowled before showing the screen of her phone to him. He looked closely, almost shoving the phone in his face as he read the content. 

“Yeah, what about it?” Max Verstappen, if anything, wouldn’t do anything that’ll hurt his reputation at Red Bull. He was the golden boy of the team— the one who’ll continuously bring the World Championship to the Red Bull headquarters. So if there’s anything that everyone knew, it’s that he wouldn’t be seen dead talking to Toto Wolff, the Mercedes AMG Petronas Team Principal. 

What everyone didn’t know however was that Max Verstappen, the Red Bull Racing favourite, was still trying to get an approval from Toto. Not for any racing business matter, of course. God, he would never ever disdain Christian Horner like that.

But instead, he wanted to be civil with the older man for the sake of his girlfriend. He had been dating Sylvie Hearth for as long as he could remember. Well… three to four years, if he was to estimate. Yet throughout those years, he never had a full conversation with Toto. At least that’s what he told Lester one time. 

What Lester knew was that he couldn’t last long when he’s talking to Toto even if it’s over the dining table. “I think he sees me as if I’m Christian or something,” he said once with terror in his eyes, “I’m not even there to talk about racing!” And according to Max, the strict demeanour of Toto Wolff scared him to the point where he thinks that the reaction that he gets from the older man only applies to some incompetent fool like Charles Leclerc. Or himself.

So with Max giving Lester’s number to Toto, he was certain he could take a step forward with relief. 

“You know: if you weren’t such a shithead when Sylvie was still karting, you probably would have more chances being liked by Toto,” Lester reached out to pinch Max on his side, only for him to let out a giggle instead of a wince. “You’re so lucky that he’s so kind to me because if he isn’t you’re going to be one meter deep into the ground right now. You gave him my number!”

“Do you have any other way to show your affection besides physical touches?” Max glared at Lester, only to recoil when he received a glare back from her. “I had to give it to him! It’s either your number or my legs!”

“Ugh. Tilly should have told me that she’s about to have a fool for an in-law,” Lester hissed, watching as he remained as equally petulant as her. “Some warning would be so goddamn nice.”

“Oi,” Max poked her side as she slapped his finger away, “you’re no Saint either, Lester.”

“I’ve attended my confessional appointment already, thank you very much,” Lester retorted. “You’d probably melt down by the time you reach the doors of the church.”

“So rude,” Max huffed out, “I don’t know what Daniel saw in you.”

“I dunno what he saw in you either,” Lester quipped, “because it sure as hell isn’t your face nor personality.”

The sight of the two would be quite an entertainment for Daniel, if he was even watching the two. Lester and Max didn’t truly hate each other–the other just keeps hogging Daniel’s time. Maybe after all of this, she should ask Toto to eat Max for breakfast. Maybe he’ll learn. 

Max gave up and sighed, “I already gave it to Toto. What am I going to do?”

“Uh, beg for forgiveness?” Lester raised a brow. Max stared at her dully. “Whatever. At least I’ll get to spend more time with the kids.” Instead of pinching him again, Lester only huffed in annoyance before walking away with a cup of tea in her hand. She didn’t even listen to his protest for her to come back, asking her about Toto’s kids–his nephews and niece. 

"Oi! Tia and Soren are coming?" "Whatever, you gave my number."

Across the buffet restaurant her eyes landed on Lando’s figure, her feet automatically turning and walking in his direction. She was greeted by him, George and Alex before she was invited to sit with them. Her boyfriend was somewhere but it wasn’t like he needed her right now. 

“Sooo,” she leans forward with a wag of her brows, “what’s the gossip? Have you seen any cute boys lately?” 

George reached to pinch Lando’s cheek and said with a high pitched tone, “There’s one right here. Here’s our little eye candy!” 

Lando grunted, slapping George’s hand away before rubbing his reddening cheek. “You’re the bloody eye candy! Why don’t you take more shirtless photos and post them on Instagram? Boost the Mercedes fans’ morale a little. Fucking ‘ell.” 

“Are you flirting with me Lando?” George joked with a cheeky smile. "Am I that irresistible that you want my shirt off?"

Alex and Lester shared a look, simultaneously shrugging at the sight in front of them. 

“Gross, you literally look like the bottom of my foot,” Lando squinted his eyes, pointing at George with a fork in hand. 

“Ew,” both Lester and Alex cringed at the thought. It’s not the kind of thing that you should say first thing in the morning.

“Naw, you’re flirting with me, Lan-lan.” 

“The fuck? Did you use something worse than a spliff this morning or wha’?”

“You guys need to take that to your room,” Lester coughed out, sipping on her tea while she hid the smile behind the lid. "It's getting intense and hot in here."

“You don’t see me whining in your comment section about keeping it in your room, do you?” Lando shot back at the woman. Lester stuck out a middle finger, watching as Lando flipped her off as well. 

“What a beautiful morning, huh, George?” Alex asked the British man, ignoring the quarreling people in front of them. 

“It’s a good time for tea,” George nodded. 

“Oh! Speaking of tea,” Lester exclaimed and slapped her hands down on the table, thud noise making the three’s eyes widen in shock. “Max is so scared of Toto that he gave my number to him.” 

“The lengths that he’d go through just to impress Toto is way beyond me,” George huffed out. 

“Of course, a Mercedes driver would say that,” Alex scoffed at George’s response before mocking him, “Look at me I’m George, I drive for Mercedes. I’m practically Toto’s son.” 

“Wai’ why— why would Max give your number to him?” Lando asked, looking for a context to Lester’s abrupt change of topic. 

She sighed, “Just some… job to do.” 

“Are we finally working together?” George asked, his bright eyes widening. 

“No. It’s something to do for Toto,” Lester shrugged before shaking herself out of her own thoughts, “you’ll see eventually.” 

As if she’s running out of words, Lester leaned back against her chair and sipped on her tea. She zoned out, wondering how she had managed to get away from her job for the weekend… only for her to get a part time job being Toto Wolff’s children’s babysitter. 

That would make a good LinkedIn job profile. 

Lorelei Hester Alessandro

Musician, Supporter of Daniel Ricciardo, Nanny of Toto Wolff’s children

Yeah that might as well be her title.

[luverofralts]

Arkhelios Adventures

"This place looks pretty normal. I was half expecting blood pouring down from the skies based on Theo's description."

Abe looked cautiously around him, still unsure if his son's dire words had been hyperbole or if they were safe. It certainly didn't look like anything special. From the extensive magic used to open the portal for him and Roman, Abe had been expecting somewhere even more built up and powerful than Pleasantview.

"It is strange. I only care about our son, though. Where have they been keeping him? Is he okay?" Roman declared. His eyes searched wildly around the area, looking for even a glimpse of Theo.

Today was finally the day that he and Abe would be entered into a demonic marriage. While the sovereign had tried to marry them before as an experiment of Theo's powers, this time it was something that the two men both actually wanted. The fact that they needed to physically see their son to perform the ceremony was just a bonus. They had been separated from Theo since he'd been whisked away to Shadowvale. The rare time they got to video call him wasn't enough by any measure.

Abe smiled and rubbed Roman's shoulder affectionately.

"Ro, take it easy on him. Don't embarrass him just because we've been going crazy without him. You remember being his age."

Roman paused to picture his fourteen year old self in this situation. Neither of his parents had cared enough to want to visit him anywhere and his grandparents only wanted to see him if he was as calm and calculating as they were. Roman was nothing like Omar had been. Omar was embarrassing; Roman thought about nothing but his children. Besides, he was throwing a giant party to celebrate his, Abe's and Adrian's thirtieth birthday in a month or so. He was still cool and could rock a suit anytime he wanted...as long as the kids didn't smear peanut butter on it with their sticky hands. His wardrobe had been more focused on practicality recently, but he was still Roman Fucking Bellamy. Sweatpants and a few stray gray hairs had never looked better on anyone else.

"Dads! You're here! You made it."

A tall, gangly teen with a mess of black hair and lengthy horns bounded towards them, smiling widely.

"Theo! You-" Abe's words died on his lips when he saw the golden beams enveloping his son's eyes. A long buried part of him recoiled at the sight, wanting to rush to him and change him into the son he remembered. But Theo was likely only like that so that he could perform the wedding. The very supernatural wedding where Abe would share Roman's thoughts and feelings for the rest of their lives.

Abe cleared his throat and tried again to greet the son he'd been going crazy pining for. Now wasn't the time for cold feet. He'd talked extensively with Roman about their shared desire to welcome the supernatural into their marriage and to honour Roman's demonic heritage. It was just nerves bothering him. That and Theo's prolonged absence from their lives.

The Bellamys had finally been given an abriviated record of just what Theo's powers had done to Adam Darktide and they were horrified. They had protested Theo's change in schools a lot less after seeing some of the pictures in that file.

Don't scream "my baby!" Don't scream "my baby!"

Roman chanted this mantra silently to himself, praying to keep his composure. He had been raised to be better than the feelings that were warring within him. His grandfather would be ashamed of him to show such weakness in the middle of a dangerous world. Omar would have been disgusted to have to deal with Roman's raw emotion about things Omar could never understand.

Perhaps Kamalani would have understood her son, in her own twisted way. Despite her obvious flaws, Roman did get the sense that his mother had at least cared deeply for his little half-sister at some point. Maybe she would also have to hold herself back from rushing to Keiki's side. The thought was less comforting than Roman assumed it might be.

This was a special occasion though. Surely, after months apart from his son, Roman was entitled to throw himself at Theo and never let him go.

"Dad! I missed you so much!"

Roman was saved from his dilemma when Theo rushed into his father's waiting arms on his own, squeezing him as tight as he could. Roman smiled, squeezing Theo right back. When they finally parted, Theo rushed into Abe's arms, greeting him just as enthusiastically.

"Look at you," Roman gushed, taking in every little detail about his son so that he could see what had changed since their last meeting. "You look so strong. I couldn't ask for a better wedding officiant. Right, Abe?"

Abe nodded and pulled his son into another hug. This was the supernatural world that his son thrived in, and Abe wasn't about to push his son away just because he was having some cold feet.

"Abe, Roman, welcome," an all too familiar voice called. "I'm glad you made it."

Both men waved reluctantly at the sovereign of all demons. Her presence wasn't a surprise given the circumstances, but it wasn't exactly like she had been invited either.

"Did Lucy also come?" Abe asked, looking hopefully for his sister. Lucy could presumably reign in her wife should the sovereign get ideas about skimming demonic energy again. His and Roman's demonic marriage had once been a part of Saren's scheme for power, and to see her here uninvited wasn't making his cold feet any warmer.

"No, regrettably, Lucy couldn't attend today. She sends her well wishes, of course. This ceremony is rather private when compared to a human wedding, so I didn't want to add more people than necessary."

"You certainly added yourself without a problem," Roman grumbled, focusing on his son to keep from shouting at his sister in law. The sovereign then insinuated herself into that plan too.

"My brightest protégé, just look at you! All ready to join two people in demonic matrimony."

She embraced Theo, a sight none of the Arkhelians had been prepared for. Roman looked at Abe with confusion, only to see him look equally confused. Roman mouthed "Lucy?" silently to which Abe shrugged. It was plausible that Lucy had had a warming effect on her wife. Slightly. More than likely, this sudden appearance and affection was part of some devious plan.

"Go on and get ready for the ceremony," Saren instructed, releasing Theo from her off-putting embrace. "This will take some serious energy and concentration, so get prepared. Don't worry, you could have done this six years ago and you'll crush this now."

Theo nodded and waved to his parents.

"I'll see you guys soon. I won't screw this up, I promise."

With those reassuring words, Theo bounded off towards a large building, leaving his parents alone with their surprise guest.

"So, uh, do you and Lucy plan on making this commitment?" Abe asked nervously. "She's never really mentioned any plans for a demonic marriage to me before. Is that something you two might be interested in?"

The sovereign laughed at this, telling Abe all that he needed to know.

"Are you kidding? It's not a thousand years ago," she laughed as genuinely as Abe or Roman had ever seen her. "Sharing thoughts, emotions and all that? No, thank you. And to be bonded to a mortal woman who will one day die and leave me with a heart involuntarily torn in half? It's not a ceremony that I have any interest in."

"And because Lucy is probably already planning her next terrible relationship," Abe muttered, hoping that only Roman could hear his words.

A large swell of clouds suddenly appeared in the air, drawing attention away from their conversation.

"Who could that be?" Roman asked, craning his head to identify the new arrival. "Maybe Lucy really did decide to come today. After all the hoops we had to jump through to be here, who could possibly be showing up? Did we need to provide this government with even more proof of our intentions?"

The clouds parted, revealing their mystery guest. The instant Roman recognized their visitor, his anxiety went from near zero to through the roof.

"Lukas? What the hell are you doing here? We're not doing anything wrong," Roman insisted, staring at the being who apparently wanted to crash their wedding. To have the sovereign show such an interest in their matrimonial plans was one thing, but a deity? Especially one so fond of chaos? This was quickly becoming a circus spiraling out of the grooms' control. Why was marrying Abe in a way that honoured Roman's demonic heritage seemingly impossible to pull off without cosmic forces trying to ruin it?

"I never said that anything was wrong, thanks for projecting your own childish fears onto me," they replied, barely paying attention to Roman. Instead, their gaze remained wholly focused on Saren. "What can I say, I love weddings."

"What the mortal was implying was that you weren't invited to this celebration," the sovereign sneered. "It's family only."

"This is quite the destination wedding," Lukas commented, ignoring the demon entirely. "It's pretty hard to find for their families. Even your wife couldn't find her way here to support her brother."

"Lucy sends her regards. I'm sure the mortals would prefer that you leave now that you've blessed the couple with your unrequested visit."

"I'm sure they don't mind a deity supervising this ceremony. Demons are just corrupted servants of Life after all. I would hate for something to go wrong with the joining when I could have helped."

"Demons are far more than what you assume them to be. Have you already forgotten who was responsible for your centuries long little nap? And I hear that now you can't go running back to daddies for help when a mean demon decides to play with you. If I were you, I would stick to hiding behind your husband and staying out of business that doesn't concern you."

"Poor Saren, if only you had someone to hide behind for yourself. Grandpa and Mommy drowned in the Ocean, didn't they? All that's left of your family is you and your little half-breed babies who no proper demon respects. You'd better run home to sit on your useless throne before a real demon comes and claims it."

Roman gave Abe a confused look as the two supernatural beings squabbled in front of them.

"Does any of this make sense to you?" he asked.

Abe shook his head. At least they hadn't been sucked into the escalating argument before them. They could probably leave and not have either Lukas or Saren even notice that they'd left.

"Well, it's better to have Life here instead of Death," he said. "It can't hurt to have them here in case something happens. Truthfully, the sovereign showing up without Lucy makes me nervous too. Let's just go get changed for the ceremony and see if the place is in ruins by the time the ceremony is supposed to start."

Theo took a deep breath and tried to focus his mind. Everything was set for the ceremony. He'd helped draw the magic lines himself to make sure they were done right. Nothing was going to go wrong. Nothing.

Except....Theo had tried to downplay his magical issues when he wrote Adam, but he couldn't ignore them now. He had been making progress in his studies until recently. The curse within him was uncontrollable, no matter how hard his teachers tried to reign it in. It appeared without warning under circumstances that didn't even make sense and attempting to reintegrate it with the rest of Theo was proving to be harder than his teachers expected.

What happened if his magical abilities backfired when joining his parents? Would they get hurt as badly as Adam had? Should Theo even be trying this in his current state?

He took another deep breath and released it slowly. No, this was just nerves. He could do this. He would do this.

[actorsmask]

Voicelines: Playables

(Only applicable to characters they know, not including rp atm)

About Sampo: Sampo? Yeah, he’s my big brother all right. Contrary to popular belief, he’s not a deadbeat and he’s most definitely not actively putting me in dangerous situations with his scams and dealings. Never mentioned me? Eh, he does that to “ensure my safety” and “make sure the guys he deals with don’t find me too easily.” Something like that I think. Since you’re the trailblazer, there’s no need to pretend I’m not his sibling. But if it didn’t risk those shady men finding me, I’d be proud to call him my brother, and to be his sibling.

About Sparkle: Don’t deal with her. Ever. If you really need to, keep it short and sweet alright? She’s on the crazier side of the Masked Fools, and her pranks can go from zero to a billion in a matter of seconds. Not to mention how she can shapeshift, which is SO annoying to deal with… Look, just try not to talk to her often, lest she makes you a victim of her little “pranks.”

About Natasha: I don’t know how she does it. Be a doctor, take care of the kids, and be the leader of Wildfire all at once. But at the same time, it really suits her personality don’t you think? Kind enough to be approachable for patients and children, yet strict enough to make sure the kids behave and to run an entire organization. Not to mention her insanely large weapon!

About Luka: We’re pretty close! We met when I first joined Wildfire, and when I tell you I physically recoiled from how nice he is… It was a bit hard to believe someone could be that kind-hearted and caring at the time, but his warmth infected me. We like to spar to pass the time or fight the Fragmentum in Rivet Town, or I just watch his matches in the Fight Club. *Sigh* He’s… Really one of the best people I’ve ever met, and I love spending time with him. Huh? I’m not dreamy!!

About Seele: If you ask me, she could be a biiiiit nicer but oh well! But honestly, she’s like a teddy bear at heart… If only she wasn’t as prickly as a cactus on the outside. Huh? Oh no, no, we do get along! I just like teasing her… She’s a good person, that’s for sure. People tend to not look past the thorns when dealing with people in general, so be patient with her!

About Hook: You must mean Pitch-Dark Hook The Great, haha! I try to take some time to play with her and the other Moles often. Usually beforehand, I set up a set path so they can have an adventure through the Underworld while making sure they stay safe. Sometimes Luka joins in and the Moles have more fun with the extra company. It was the most I could do for those who haven’t seen the sky!

About Clara: She’s one of the sweetest girls I’ve met honestly, so willing to help others and to make sure everyone gets along… I can relate to that. She helped a lot in maintaining the peace between Wildfire and the vagrants due to her relationship with Svarog, and with helping provide medical supplies. Though I wish she would wear socks at least, her feet could step on something sharp…

About Pela: For someone of her profession, you’d never expect her to write the kind of things she writes or reads. Even illustrate! But I’ll be honest, she has good taste… Uh, there’s this one story she showed me called… I think “Palace Swimmer”? About some mermaids, and one’s a beacon… I haven’t been reading up on the more recent books yet, but she has a tendency to go for the sad ones…

About Serval: One of the best sisters I could ever ask for, of course~! She’s taught me a myriad of things: Guitar, machinery, make-up, some fashion advice… Yeah! Serval just has that approachable vibe to her now that I think about it, though I do remember being slightly intimidated by her when I first met her… Then again, I was scared to meet anyone back then.

About Lynx: Sadly, since she isn’t around Belobog often, we usually only text or have video calls of sorts. Sometimes I’ll teleport to wherever she’s camping and we catch up on things while stargazing or foraging for ingredients for cooking. Lynx always has something interesting to tell me about as someone who’s trying to traverse the entirety of Jarilo-VI, so it’s never boring at all! In return, I tell her about the planets I’ve visited!

About Gepard: Another big brother of mine! Honestly, I don’t even know how we got close. After not having evidence to arrest me multiple times, he just… Stopped. So I kind of just kept bothering him about random things whenever I could or when I was bored and Sampo wasn’t around. But I do have him to thank for helping me get to know Serval, Lynx, Pela, and the others. And for just being there in general.

About Bronya: I only started to really talk to her after the Stellaron incident on Jarilo-VI, since she was steadfast in her beliefs and wouldn't dream of interacting with a criminal back then! She was… Nicer than I expected, to be honest. Though, she works way too much that I swear I can see a few wrinkles… She isn’t Sampo’s age yet, so it’s just blasphemy! She needs more rest, but apparently Seele has been helping~

About Aventurine: … I don’t really know him, nor do I want to get to know him. He’s a Stoneheart from the IPC, and that speaks more than enough for me. For all I know, he could get me arrested or try to take Jarilo-VI into the IPC’s greedy hands. I don’t want anything to do with him.

About Topaz and Numby: I also don’t like her. All this campaign and for what? It’s not even a 100% guarantee that Belobog would’ve continued to thrive under the IPC’s care. If anything, if they got too advanced, they would’ve just nuked them. I just don’t like how she made everyone tip-toe. But I do admit her pet trotter is cute…

BONUS! About Oleg: He’s apparently some kind of legend in the Overworld, which was surprising but not surprising at the same time? I heard about him from Gepard, then asked Oleg himself. He told me a lot of stories from his heyday, and they never fail to impress me. It’s hard to believe that old man used to do that much back then, much less imagine it… But he has helped me train tons, so I suppose that tells me enough.

[biaswreckingfics]

Business or Pleasure? - Part 4

Pairing: Lee Sangyeon x Female Reader

Genre: CEO AU, Fake Dating AU, Fluff, Angst

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: None

Previous Chapter

Sangyeon's POV

Sangyeon walks through the office at a steady pace, well aware of the stares he's getting as he passes. His eyes stay focused on the back wall, where his office - which he can see growing between the cubicles - is located. The stares he gets almost make him itchy, but he refuses to allow that to show on his face until your words come back to him.

Mob boss.

Who on Earth thinks of such ridiculous things? Even worse, Sangyeon finds himself wondering if he should smile at some of them. Would that be weird?

That'd probably be weird. Hell, by the end of the day, they might all think they're getting fired or something. 

Sangyeon feels relief when he approaches your empty desk. He's almost to his office, and then he can shield himself from everyone's eyes for the rest of the day.

Something on your desk catches his attention, and he pauses to look at it. A cup holder filled with all types of silly pens sits front and center on your desk. Sangyeon takes a minute to look at all of them, noting the giant smiley face, the multicolored flower, and the... pink-haired troll?

He feels a smile tug at his lips and shakes his head. He's not the least bit surprised you would have a bunch of random pens in a "professional environment". The more he learns your quirks, the more he's coming to expect them.

Opening his office door and immediately closing it behind him, he thinks about how you did the same thing last week and then offered to help him of all things. In the nearly ten years he's had this job, there have been very few others like you, and certainly, no one who was brave enough to outright call him a liar. It's amusing.

You've only been here for a couple of weeks, and already Sangyeon finds himself laughing at the most random and absurd things. He almost wonders if he should be worried...

A vibrating in his pocket tells him someone is calling him. Tossing his briefcase on his desk, he digs his phone out and answers without looking. A terrible mistake.

His mom's voice greets him, and his mind is already racing to come up with an excuse for what he knows she's about to ask.

"My darling boy, I hope you're not busy yet."

"No, mom. I just got to the office. I can talk for a little bit."

"Oh, good! I want to talk to you about your sister's wedding."

Sangyeon shuts his eyes and sinks down into his chair. He hates that he has this inability to lie to her. He should've attempted it anyways. He should've told her someone needed him for something. Maybe he still can...

"Do you have a date yet?"

He sighs. "No, mom. I haven't had time to ask anyone if they're available."

"Sangyeon," his mom whines, and he can almost physically see her pout. "You have to start putting yourself first! You work so much that it's going to be the death of you."

"I know, mom," he relents because he's used to this line of conversation. If he lets her go on any longer, they'll end up at the "I want grandbabies" stage. The thought alone makes Sangyeon want to physically recoil.

"You're so attractive, and you're wasting your youth in that stuffy office," she tuts. "It's a good thing you have a mother like me to help you out."

Sangyeon pauses, not liking the sound of that one bit. "What does that mean?"

"Well, I knew you were going to be too busy to do it yourself, so I found you a date," she nonchalantly says.

Sangyeon's stomach drops, and he suddenly feels lightheaded. "No! I can't."

"What do you mean you can't?"

"I mean," he pauses when his office door opens. You pop in your head, mouthing an apology when you notice he's on the phone, and quietly shut the door. The next words that come out of his mouth are done without thought. "I already have someone that I want to ask."

The silence that reaches his ears has him holding his breath. "Are you lying to your mother right now?"

"No, I'm not. There's someone that I'm planning to ask, but it's still too early."

It takes a moment, but then his mom starts squealing in his ears. He pulls his phone away, wincing at the sound. He tries to make out the words she's saying, and at some point, he's pretty sure he hears the words "My baby has a girlfriend".

"Mom," he tries to get her attention. "Mom!"

"Yes, I'm sorry. I'm just so relieved," she tells him, getting ready to go on the spiel he's heard a hundred times before. "You know how badly I've been hoping you'd find someone. It's been such a long time."

"It hasn't been that long," he mutters.

His mother scoffs. "Yes, it has, honey, and that's okay! You should ask your date soon, though. The wedding is this weekend."

Sangyeon sits up in his seat, eyes shooting over to the calendar. Holy freaking crap. How is the wedding already here?! He hasn't even gotten a gift yet!

"Sangyeon?" He hears his mom calling his name, and he clears his throat.

"I'll make sure to ask her today, mom. I have to go, though. Someone's at my door. I'll see you this weekend. Love you!"

He hangs up the phone and sinks into his seat. He is so screwed. How is he going to get you to come with him? Not only is it such short notice, but it's wildly inappropriate. He's your boss! Also, why did just seeing your face give him the idea to ask you? Where did that thought even come from?

Maybe there's someone else he can ask... He pulls out his phone and starts scrolling through his contacts. His body feels heavier and heavier the further down he scrolls. All of his contacts are business related, except for a few, and those ones he's not willing to ask to be his date this weekend.

Sangyeon stares blankly at the chairs in front of him. The disbelief over his lie truly starting to settle in. He'd never intended to ask you out. Truthfully, the thought never crossed his mind because dating is so far off his radar. Then, his mom said she'd found him a date, and he panicked. When you popped into his office, it was like fate was giving him a way out, and he seized it. Quickly. ... Maybe too quickly.

He starts mentally making a pros and cons list. Pros? You're easy to get along with, you're better than someone he barely knows, and you're... very attractive - though Sangyeon will never admit that out loud. Cons? He's your freaking boss, and it's basically illegal!

Y/N's POV

The phone on your desk rings, and you immediately answer without looking at the screen. When you hear Sangyeon's voice telling you it's okay to come into his office now, you quickly disconnect the call and grab your notebook.

When you enter his office, his face appears even more strained than it did the first time you popped in. He suddenly looks like he wants to sprint out of his office unseen, but he tries to cover it up when he spots you.

"Good morning," he murmurs, and you detect a slight breathiness behind it.

"Morning," you respond as cheerfully as you can. As if your response will determine his mood change. "So, I just thought I'd go over your schedule for -"

"Are you busy this weekend?"

Your entire being freezes as you try to process his question. Mouth still hanging open, you furrow your brows and look around his office dumbfounded. Are you busy this weekend? Why? Does Lee Tech have an event or something? Nothing is immediately coming to mind.

"No?" You let the questioning tone linger in your voice.

He takes a deep breath. "I know this isn't entirely appropriate... but I'm wondering if you'll accompany me to a wedding on Saturday?"

There's a nervous glint in his eyes as he watches your reaction. Surely, you didn't hear him right... There's no possible way that your boss - the CEO of Lee Tech - just asked you to come with him to a WEDDING. The boss that says he doesn't want his employees dating. Your BOSS?

The panic starts to set in. You need to say no. You should say no. Can you say no? There's no way you can go as his date to anything, right? That's just... That's... absurd.

Sangyeon must see the emotions flitting across your face because he quickly attempts to distill your impending freakout. "This will in no way affect your job. I'll even pay you if you want."

He winces as he hears his words, and you pause long enough to consider if he's offering you a job as an escort or something. 

"That's not..." he sighs, one of his hands coming up to rub his temple. "My mother is trying to set me up with a blind date for my sister's wedding. In a moment of recklessness, I told her that I already had one. Now, I have to find someone to be my date, and it'll either be you or some stranger off the street."

Some of your panic dissipates. At least there's a reason behind why he's randomly asking you, and it's not that he's into you or anything. Still, you can't help but wonder why you're an option.

"There's no one else you can take?"

He only looks slightly uncomfortable when he responds. "There's no one else that I'm willing to take. No. I suppose if you tell me no, I can make one of those dating profiles, but... that seems more complicated than just asking you."

There's a part of you that's trying to figure out if you should be flattered or insulted by this entire situation. Not that it matters, but still.

"So, I can say no?"

He gives you a serious look. "Your answer will absolutely not affect your work in the slightest. If you say yes, that's great. Nothing will change. If you say no, I'll make one of those dating profiles and hope for the best."

Sangyeon's face, as he thinks about the second option, is comical. He looks like he'd rather have a root canal than get on a dating profile. That, paired with his claim that this changes absolutely nothing, helps relax you the rest of the way. One thing you've learned about him is that he means what he says.

"Okay."

"Okay?" He repeats with wide eyes like he's not sure he heard you properly.

You nod. "I'll be your fake date, but you have to come up with a cover story because I'm not doing that."

"Done. Fine. That's... great." He abruptly stands up from his seat. "Thank you."

Seeing Sangyeon so bent out of shape pleases you for some reason. It makes you feel like you're on the same playing level for once, and a part of you is dying to find out the backstory behind it and why he has an extreme aversion to dating. Hopefully, you'll find out when you get around his family.

----------------------------------

When you get home that night, you very much find yourself needing some bff time to decompress everything that's happened since you started the new job. Thankfully, you had the insight to text Kevin before you left work and asked begged him to come over asap.

What you didn't count on - though you one thousand percent should've - was him absolutely living for all of the mess you're telling him.

"Wait. Wait. Wait." Kevin waves his hand, his wine frighteningly close to spilling on your couch. "Which one did you sleep with?"

You sigh for the tenth time. "That's Sunwoo. Sangyeon is the one that asked me to the wedding."

"And which one is the sexy one?"

You purse your lips, already irritated by your answer. "Both of them."

Kevin lightly touches his face like he's going to cry. "I'm so proud of you. I always knew I raised you to be a hoe."

"Kevin! I am not being a hoe!" You toss our throw pillow at him, no longer caring if he drips some wine onto your plush couch.

"Shh," he holds up his hand. "Let me live in the moment."

You fall back until your head lands on the arm of the couch. Looking up at the ceiling, you contemplate how this is your life right now.

A hand pats your thigh, and you glance down at Kevin, who's giving you a look of fake sympathy. "It'll be okay. The wedding will be over before you know it, and everything will go back to normal."

"Do you really think so?"

He bites his lips and stares at you before it finally comes out. "Girl, you're going to a wedding with your boss! No! It's never going to be simple again."

You whine because you know he's probably right - no matter how much Sangyeon claims otherwise.

"What you need to do is take advantage of the situation."

Furrowing your brows, you ask, "How do I do that?'"

Kevin takes a small sip of his wine before he nonchalantly says, "You need to find out who has the bigger dick."

This time, the wine spilling all over your couch is your fault, but it's worth every single stain.

Tagging: @jungkooksworld18 @sungbeam @jenowithjaem @ilovechanhee @maybeifyoutrieddd @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @dontflailmenow @winterchimez @belle643

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

(FE: Engage) Alear / Crossover Emblem Rings

Honestly, I couldn't really think of anything unique for a reverse situation, so instead, I raise you Alear meeting even more crossovers, cause apparently I can never escape my insatiable hunger for mixing games/show together.

Hope you enjoy, @unknownsymbol367!

Awakening:

(Vander) "Hm. I have never heard of this Emblem, but perhaps we should go ahead with the incantation?"

Alear nodded.

(Alear) "May all your blessings find their way their way to us, Emblem of the Witch!"

From the ring burst forward a giant being of steel, alongside a small red haired girl. She began to panic as her arms flailed in a pattern.

(Suletta) "I-IT CAN FLY! IT CAN DANCE! AERIAL!"

She froze in a pose with arms outstretched, clearly panting and showing signs that she was about to fall over. Which was impressive, given she was just a manifestation and not a physical being.

(Alear) "..."

(Vander) "..."

(Suletta) "..."

Alear and Vander stared at the girl silently, not entirely sure what to make of the situation.

(Alear) "...M-My name is Alear, and this is Vander. We require your help miss...Aerial?"

(Suletta) "U-U-Um...! Aerial is my sister. M-M-My name is S-Suletta!"

(Vander) "Are you alright? You seem to be sweating a concerning amount."

Alear rose her eyebrow in confusion, silently whispering to the side.

(Alear) "...Marth, are you able to sweat?"

(Marth) "No, we're not...Just a moment."

Marth floated over to Suletta, which she recoiled at the sight of him suddenly materializing in front of them. However, the steel giant known as "Aerial" seemed to have its eyes glow in response.

(Marth) "I am Emblem Marth, we are on a mission to defeat the Fell Dragon. May we count on both of you?"

Suletta looked incredibly nervous before looking at Aerial, whose eyes flashed again. Though no one heard any noise come from the being, Suletta suddenly had a determined expression.

(Suletta) "Right, if I run, I gain one. Move forward, and gain two!"

(Alear) "Hah, I think I quite like that saying. We're lucky to have you!"

===

Supports:

===

Alear

(Suletta) "I heard your mother was a wonderful person. I-I'm really sorry to hear what happened..."

(Alear) "Thank you, Suletta. I'm glad you still have your mother, and your sister to support you."

...

(Alear) "Suletta, I swear I'm hearing someone else talk to me whenever it's just us..."

(Suletta) "Hm? Oh, that's just Aerial saying hello! She's louder on some days more than others."

===

Clanne

(Suletta) "W-wow! You're so young! Reminds me of Chuchu..."

(Clanne) "From what I've heard of your friend, I don't want to make her angry...!"

...

(Clanne) "You say you pilot Aerial? That must take an incredible strain on your body."

(Suletta) "I've never really noticed a physical strain on myself with Aerial before. I-Is that normal? T-There's nothing wrong with me r-right?!"

===

Chloé

(Chloé) "You always seem so cheerful when having lunch with us, Suletta. I only wish we could let you have some of the local cuisine as well!"

(Suletta) "T-Thank you for the offer miss Chloé, b-but I must decline! Grilled rat seems..." shudders

===

Rosado

(Rosado) "Aerial looks absolutely adorable! But, I think she could use a few more ribbons on her. What do you say, Suletta?"

(Suletta) "Adorable? I don't think I've heard anyone call her that. Maybe we can spruce the cockpit up? I'm afraid the ribbons might get burnt up by the beams or the thrusters..."

===

Lucina

(Lucina) "Hah, looking at you talk to Aerial reminds me of my own family."

(Suletta) "Do you think my mom can meet yours? I'm sure she'd love to meet them!"

===

Victory Quotes:

"It can fly, it can dance! Aerial!"

"Move forward, gain two!"

"The only result is the truth!"

Awakening:

Alear, Marth and Vander looked at the ring with growing concern. What kind of ring to help defeat the Fell Dragon would be called the "Emblem of Calamity"? And the incantation didn't help put aside fears either.

Alear sighed before he nodded. It's better they have it than the enemy.

(Alear) "Devour our foes, Emblem of Calamity!"

A long black haired woman emerged from the ring, clothes and cape visibly torn as she stoically turned towards the group.

(Velvet) "...Who are you supposed to be?"

(Alear) "My name is Alear. We're on a mission to defeat the Fell Dragon, thus we have summoned you."

(Velvet) "You know my title and you still chose to summon me? You're clearly desperate."

(Vander) "You will not address the Divine One that way!"

Velvet's eyes glanced over to Vander, visibly getting more annoyed.

(Velvet) "If you want my help, then suck it up. Or should I eat you too?"

(Marth) "We can all be friends, Miss Velvet."

(Velvet) "I'm not here to make friends. I just want one person in my world dead...Alear, right? What is your plan for the world once this Fell Dragon is gone?"

(Alear) "To work towards a brighter future?"

(Velvet) "Not dictated by reason?"

(Alear) "Dictated by...? N-No. Peace."

(Velvet) "...I suppose that'll do for now. Let's get moving."

(Alear) "Thank you, Velvet."

===

Supports:

===

Alear

(Alear) "You put up such a harsh exterior, but you're quite kind! I've seen how you speak with Jean and Clan-"

(Velvet) "Tch, I have no idea what you're talking about. Spread any rumours like that, and I won't hesitate to eat you."

...

(Velvet) "I appreciate that you clean your own room despite having servants. Not a half bad job of keeping it tidy, either."

(Alear) "It just never felt right to me, letting someone else do all the work...Y-You're glaring at my bed pretty badly there. Is something wrong?"

(Velvet) "Who ironed your bed? It's covered in wrinkles! You need to properly-..."

(Alear) "Hah, Velvet, it's all right!...V-Velvet? Wow, she's still going on about the proper technique..."

...

Jean

(Jean) "ACK! H-Hi, Velvet...D-Did I do something wrong? You're staring at me."

(Velvet) "...Nothing. Sorry."

===

Alcryst

(Velvet) "I'm only gonna say this once. Knock it off with that self deprecating crap and you mean the world to your brother."

(Alcryst) "H-Huh? But-"

(Velvet) "Shut up and let me finish. In a war like this, you don't know what will happen. So cherish the time you have with him, and remember he'd never forgive himself if you get yourself killed."

(Alcryst) "...R-Right." ...Why did she look so sad saying that?

===

Louis

(Velvet) "...Watch where your eyes wander, Louis, or else I'll gouge them out."

(Louis) "Oh, apologies if I have offended you, Velvet! I was merely observing the way you speak to others."

(Velvet) "Tch, even Phi has more tact than you..."

===

Kagetsu

(Kagetsu) "Ah, thank you for the sparring, Velvet! It was quite the thrill to finally fight you!"

(Velvet) "Hmph. You remind me of someone back home..."

===

Goldmary

(Goldmary) "Have you no shame, Velvet? I must acquire you a new set of clothes this instant! With my taste, you'll be wowing men in no ti-"

(Velvet) "Touch my clothes, and I'll eat you."

===

Bunet

(Bunet) "Why, your recipe has come out spectactularly! How did you acquire such skills?!"

(Velvet) "Heh, I learned from my sister, who learned it from my mother. All of our cooking is passed down. Too bad I can't cook it myself...Not that I could taste it anyway."

===

Victory Quotes:

"No mercy!"

"Show's over."

"Is that all? That was barely a fight."

Awakening:

Alear felt a burning rage from within the ring just holding it. Whoever was inside would make a strong ally indeed.

(Alear) "Receive us, O Emblem of the Dragon!"

A man in a gray suit slowly rose from the ring, turning and cracking his knuckles.

(Kiryu) "My name is Kiryu Kazuma."

(Alear) "Kiryu, it's nice to meet you. I'm Alear, we need your help in defeating the Fell Dragon."

Kiryu nodded and stepped forward.

(Kiryu) "There's room for only one dragon in this world."

Alear awkwardly coughed as Vander and Marth smiled. Straightforward, but he was at least easy to work with.

Supports:

===

Alear

(Alear) "Your fighting style is incredible, Kiryu! Do you think you can teach me some of your moves?"

(Kiryu) "I'm no teacher. And your fighting isn't something to sell short either."

...

(Kiryu) "So, you're a real dragon?"

(Alear) "That I am...Well, rather I'm told that. The Divine Dragon, specifically but honestly? I don't feel that different."

(Kiryu) "I see..." (How did I even get to this point in my life...?)

===

Etie

(Etie) "WOAH! Your muscles are so dang ripped! You gotta tell me your workout regime!"

(Kiryu) "I've never had a woman ask me that before...Well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt, considering our circumstances..."

===

Alfred

(Kiryu) "Why do you keep staring at my arms?"

(Alfred) "Huh? Oh! S-Sorry, your biceps are massive! Can I feel them?"

(Kiryu) "That certainly explains Etie..."

===

Jade

(Jade) "Kiryu, may I trouble you for your experiences in the...How do you say, yah-koo-zuh?"

(Kiryu) "There's nothing funny about the life we lead. It only leads to misery, so I'm afraid I can't help you with your ideas."

===

Anna

(Anna) "You just throw your money out to distract people?! Talk about a waste!"

(Kiryu) "Aren't you a little young to be worrying about that kind of thing?"

===

Pandreo

(Pandreo) "Holy smokes, Kiryu! You got a KILLER singing voice!"

(Kiryu) "Heh, I've been told I have a passion for karaoke. I doubt anyone understood what I was saying, but I'm glad you enjoyed it."

===

Byleth

(Byleth) "People keep telling me I have a hard to read face."

(Kiryu) "Hm, I do as well. I'm not exactly sure how to change that..."

===

Victory Quotes:

"Want to die? THEN STEP UP!"

"That's rad."

"Kakatte koi!"

Awakening:

(Alear) "Accept our mission, Emblem of the Soldier!"

Electricity shot out of the ring, as a man slowly stood up from all fours, bandana flowing in the wind.

(Snake) "This is Snake. Kept you waiting, huh?"

(Alear) "I'm Alear. We need your help in defeating the Fell Dragon."

(Snake) "Any backup?"

(Alear) "Plenty. You have me, and the rest of the army at your side!"

Snake looked to Alear, Marth, and Vander.

(Snake) "An army, huh? Not used to fighting in a unit this big. But, sounds fine to me. What's my first mission, Colonel?"

Supports:

===

Alear

(Alear) "If I may ask, why exactly do you call me Colonel?"

(Snake) "Feels more comfortable than me calling someone "Divine One" all the time. Besides, you don't like that title much either, right?"

(Alear) "Hah, fair point."

...

(Alear) "You want me to do what in that box?"

(Snake) "Sit inside it and hide. It works a lot better than you think it does."

===

Framme

(Snake) "You know, you remind me a lot of a girl I know named Sunny. She's just as positive as you."

(Framme) "I'll take that as a compliment, mister Snake!"

Lapis

(Snake) "You make your own gear on the field? Impressive."

(Lapis) "Oh, I doubt it's as impressive as anything you'd make, Snake. Mine are just little knick knacks and things to make life a little more convenient."

Yunaka

(Yunaka) "Wow, you're a lot deadlier than you look."

(Snake) "Could say the same to you, Yunaka. You're smart to hide that fact...Even if it is a little obvious."

Zelkov

(Zelkov) "Snake, you are quite the enigma of a man."

(Snake) "Can't say I have a straightforward past. I can probably guess the same for you." ...Why is he speaking like that?

Fogado

(Fogado) "So, you say you don't believe in the supernatural when you see monsters rising up and us using magic?"

(Snake) "In my world, I don't. Here, I can understand the magic at least, so that means I can fight it."

===

Victory Quotes:

"This is Snake, I'm done here."

"Mission accomplished."

"Showtime!"

[beevean]

I'd have to disagree there

The handling of Hector's character alone surpasses the way Samus was treated in her own game

Sure, having Samus being reduced to a submissive little kid for the sake of douchebag who we're told is supposed to care for her is awful

...but it doesn't even come close to the sistematic stripping down of Hector's literal personhood, nor does it come off nearly as masturbatory. Sure having Samus in her Zero Suit during crucial moments of vulnerability is in supremely bad taste and I have no doubt that somebody in the dev team had a hand down their pants, but Hector is literally with his dick hanging out in the open on screen, he gets treated like a literal dog and is raped on screen for no real good reason other than shock value, same with Alucard, only for him to get mocked about it by Lenore in front of her sisters as she straddles her leg between his legs causing him to recoil in disgust-yeah no nothing in OM is even remotely in the same ball park, S3 may have more forgettable moments but when it gets bad it's not simply offensive

I can't accuse Other M of any of this, not even at its worse.

Plus at least OM has Anthony so at least it has one likeable character going for it. What's NFCV's excuse?

Bro, you have seen the insane rants I go on when someone mentions N!Hector. I 100% agree with you that his writing is beyond disgusting, humiliating, spiteful, mean, and it uses literal dehumanizing (both in-universe and meta-wise, since again, Hector barely counts as a character after S2) as fetish material, to then turn around and shove into my face the accidental theme that real maturity is forgiving your abusers if they're nice enough to you. And yes, thankfully Adam doesn't deceive Samus into sex with the purpose of forcing her to work for him. Yay.

(and thank you for reminding me of Lenore touching Hector's crotch with her foot as she gloated that he was inside of her when she put the ring on him. So much care went into humiliating him in all sorts of ways. Oh but go on and tell me how Lenore always meant well, even back then.)

But spirit-wise? OM Samus and N!Hector have a lot in common.

They are much, much weaker, meeker and more passive than the versions most people are familiar with (or were, in Hector's case :^) ). This was allegedly done in the name of "giving them depth".

Their weakness (dare I say femininity, since Hector is very much designed and written to be a feminine man compared to others) is a prominent plot point in their story. You cannot escape from the plot beating you over and over about how pathetic they are.

They are repeatedly compared to children, in a derogatory way and maybe even nonsensical. Samus calls herself a child because she disliked being picked on for being a woman and for daring to be worried about Adam's brother; Hector is called by others a manchild because he loves animals and trusted Dracula.

They accomplish nothing substantial in the story - and here OM is worse because Samus is the protagonist of the story, of the whole franchise! Well, NFCV does the same with Trevor, so I guess it compensates, hah. Even when they could do something, the story repeatedly blocks them and gives the moment of glory to someone else - Adam and Anthony for Samus, Isaac for Hector.

They mindlessly defer to an abusive figure who shows no care nor empathy for them, who orders them around like a dog and even physically subdues them.

Said abusive figure is beloved by them, with little to no turmoil. The ending of their stories is a touching moment meant to make you feel sorry for these two characters who caused nothing but harm. (at least Adam sacrificed himself for a good cause, unlike Lenore who just flounced out of an uncomfortable situation)

They are both sexualized - yes, Hector's story in S3 is nothing but him being submissive and breedable, yes they took care of drawing his penis while he was getting beaten to an inch of his life in case he wasn't miserable enough, but that doesn't make Samus' gratuituous ass shots during dramatic scenes that much better.

Again, don't get me wrong, you will never catch me defending anything from that foul show that fills me with nothing but bile and anger. But I'm not forgetting how OM made me viscerally uncomfortable too, and being less bad doesn't mean it's not bad.

The only difference is that OM got so much shit since it came out that at this point there is nothing to add to the conversation. Everyone has eviscerated Adam and plucked his bones clean, we all know how awful he is. NFCV is still beloved by and large, Lenector is still hella popular and touted as a tragic romance that should have ended with them getting together, I still read with my own poor eyeballs horrible takes about that story that would not fly if the genders were reversed (going back to the foot thing, imagine a man groping a woman's breasts for the sake of making fun of her), and this is the source of my anger.

... uhhhh well NFCV has the captain who lols and lmaos at Isaac's face for his edgy misanthropy? Can he count as the show's only saving grace?

[lady-thorn]

The Dragon’s Hoard

Summary: In this one, the dragon protects the princess.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC!fem

Warnings: Smut. Fluff. Enemies to lovers trapped together. Part 2 might follow. ESL, please be patient. What am I doing on Tumblr?

Word count: +15k

Disclaimer: Feedback appreciated. Just wanted to share this unedited story with fellow Aemond fans.

***

“What are you doing, my love?” Queen Alicent approached her daughter with a smile. She should be planning the feast to celebrate Helaena’s marriage to Aegon, but when she looked out the window and saw her only daughter standing among the flowers, she decided to join the princess.

Helaena didn’t take her violet eyes off the animal she was watching, but there was a faint smile on her mouth as she said, “It has our colors.”

“It’s beautiful. I’ve never seen a red butterfly before,” Alicent said. She didn’t understand her daughter’s fascination with bugs and similar animals, but she tried. Most days, she despaired of forming a bond with Helaena, blamed herself for it. Their relationship was so different from the one the queen had with Lady Ravella, her ward… but then, she was an adult woman with three teenaged children when she met Lady Ravella.

At least, Helaena’s newest friend was a butterfly, instead of some spider or beetle… Alicent shivered, looking at Ravella, currently kneeling in front of the weirwood. Her being there explained Helaena’s presence; the two were inseparable, despite their ages. Their relationship reminded the queen of her early friendship with Rhaenyra, Helaena’s older half-sister. She hoped Ravella and Helaena remained stronger than herself and her now stepdaughter.

What surprised Alicent was Aemond being there as well. Her younger son always took pleasure in calm and tranquil places, though he and Ravella were anything but when together. And yet, he was sitting with his back against the white bark, the gash on his face still healing, visible from a distance. To her, it looked like he was waiting for Ravella, and she was torn between interrupting them before they could start arguing or letting them back, and only acting if necessary.

“It’s very rare,” Helaena agreed, cutting into her mother’s thoughts. She was able to entice the butterfly into flying closer, until the stunning animal settled on her palm. Only then, the princess turned to her mother, a concentrated frown on her face. “She’s bigger than I thought.”

“What a lovely sight,” Alicent smiled, and reached out to touch her daughter’s silver hair. Her heart stopped in her chest, and tears filled her eyes, when Helaena didn’t recoil from her touch. The princess disliked physical contact, which made it difficult for Alicent to console her or show affection. This time, Helaena accepted it, as if being touched were something she welcomed. “I admit I’m surprised to find you here. I expected you to be in your chambers.”

Helaena looked up and smiled back. “I had a dream last night. I think it’s the end of that one I told you about.”

“Really? The great dragon snarling at a hatchling?” Alicent was glad when Helaena nodded. Sometimes, her daughter’s dreams scared her, almost as much as they did Helaena herself. This one in particular was one Helaena had been trying to get to the bottom of for almost two years now.

Relieved, the queen sat on the bench — after chancing a last glance at her son and ward; thankfully, they seemed to be laughing together —, and motioned for her daughter to do the same. “Now I’m curious.”

“It wasn’t a hatchling with the dragon…” Helaena started, her fingertips brushing the butterfly’s red and black wings.

***

“LET ME GO!”

The scream echoed in the woods. Prince Aemond Targaryen looked around, trying to discern where it came from. He knew the owner of that voice, so the best course of action was to go the other way. Lady Ravella Whitmore was a prickly rose — she had too many thorns to be worth plucking — and quite enjoyed prickling him.

She was also a ward of the Crown, he thought with a defeated sigh. He couldn’t just walk away and leave her. In theory, he had the advantage: the kingswood was enormous, and no one could accuse him of being complicit in what was obviously a kidnapping. He could always say he didn’t cross paths with Ravella. After all, he came here a few weeks before the tourney to celebrate his father’s nameday, to be alone. The Red Keep was… crowded these days, after his older half-sister’s arrival with her family.

On the other hand, he wouldn’t ever forgive himself if any harm befell Lady Ravella because of his failure to act. He was cynical and aloof, yes, but he was also a knight. He had duties. He could tell right and wrong apart. And letting a woman be violated in any way went against his nature.

So, mourning the peace he was about to lose, he sighed, and followed her screams.

***

Ravella’s kidnapper was “kind” enough to provide her with a tent, where she was expected to “get ready” before he… consummated their love. She wanted to run, but there was a guard positioned on every side — she was surrounded. Those men would tackle her to the ground and let their lord rape her to force her into accepting his marriage proposal.

She’d rather die.

By now, her disappearance must’ve been noticed. She’d heard Sunfyre and Dreamfyre soaring in the sky, screeching, some hours ago, when King’s Landing was still close, but couldn’t tell if it was because their riders were looking for her, or merely because Prince Aegon and Princess Helaena were out there, having fun. If they were looking for her… she choked on air, swallowing the tears. She didn’t think the king, her guardian, would order Ser Philip Montford intercepted. For all intentions and purposes, the man and his party were coming home from his seat in the stormlands to attend the tourney. The truth was, they had been waiting there for a few days, while Ser Philip and two of his people kidnapped Ravella on her way to an orphanage the queen patronized. As one of Queen Alicent’s ladies-in-waiting, Ravella was expected to handle some business for her, as was common knowledge.

Even if her maid, Rosey, had notified her guardians of her going missing, it still gave Ser Philip at least three hours of advantage. They were deep in the kingswood. And dusk was— “My lady, are you decent?” a man asked from outside.

“Yes!” she turned around with a frown. The flap of the tent was revealed to show — she sucked in a breath — a septon.

“Ser Philip—” the septon started.

“Is mad if he thinks I’ll marry him. Go back and tell him that,” she sat on a chair, her arms crossed over her middle. She didn’t expect her denial to deter him for long, because it should’ve detained him a long time ago, at her first rejection. The problem was, Ser Philip was obsessed, and he wanted her compliant. Ravella couldn’t tell if it was a result of his vanity or his fear of what the king would do if she had complaints. There was a slight chance he might end up gelded for raping her — and she’d make sure all the Seven Kingdoms knew it was rape.

The septon tried to plead with her, by listing all of his lord’s qualities, none of which mattered to her. Ravella had an idea of what she expected in a husband, and Ser Philip wasn’t that man. Finally, the septon sighed and said, “As you wish, my lady. What is—?” he shrieked when a screeching sound came from the back of the tent, as if someone was tearing it to shreds. “Prince Aemond?”

Ravella got to her feet, staring at the merciless one-eyed prince. He had a sword in hand, and the blade was running red with blood, as was the sailcloth he’d cut. Aemond’s right eye wandered all over her. “Are you alright?”

“Physically, yes. Ser Philip’s going to try to rape me.”

A smirk. “Ser Philip has strange tastes.” Her fists clenched. Aemond looked out. “Come on, I’ve killed the guards. The others are soon to follow.”

She rushed to join him. Aemond stared at the septon. “Tell Ser Philip he’ll have to face justice. We’re coming after him with fire and blood.” The older man nodded, his face pale.

Aemond took Ravella by the hand, keeping her to his left, so she wouldn’t be injured if he were attacked — the right was his dominant side, and he’d lost use of his left eye a few months after she moved into the Red Keep. What most people would call a death sentence, Aemond demoted into an inconvenience. They ran into the woods, and Ravella looked back towards the tent, and caught a glimpse of the septon making a “shoo” gesture at her. “The septon is stalling,” she grinned.

“Good. We’re too far from the capital, however. We’ll have to set up camp.”

“Don’t you have a horse?” she grimaced at the thin green branch that struck her across the cheek.

“No. I came on Vhagar. She isn’t here.”

After what seemed like hours, Ravella was gasping for breath. It was cold, and she was tired. The air felt like ice cutting at her throat and lungs. “Aemond, I can’t—”

“Drink this,” he paused to give her something. “Slowly. You don’t want to get drunk. I won’t carry you.”

The wine was too sweet for her taste, so she merely took a gulp. It was cold, too. She wiped her mouth with her forearm as she handed the canteen back. Aemond took it, before he took her hand. They walked now, carefully. The last thing they needed was falling and breaking something. “Look, a hill!” she pointed.

Aemond watched her finding. Apparently, he deemed it safe and took her up there. Climbing was difficult — the ground was muddy, and the mud was soft and falling apart when they stepped on it; they took three steps forward and slid two back. The stones on the top of the hill were slippery, worn out by time and the elements. It’d be a nasty fall.

“I was hoping for a hut or something,” she confessed. Looking around, she saw only a weirwood stump, a beacon of white wood turned into stone with some faded pinkish blemishes from the tree sap. That was good enough; no one would approach without them seeing — unless it was dark. “At least, the old gods will protect us,” she smiled.

“I have a tent in my bag. Help me with it.”

It was a small tent, made of sailcloth. The dark fabric would also provide a cover, especially after Aemond turned it so the three-headed dragon of his House faced the mountain wall, instead of the direction they’d come from. It’d also provide a refuge from the rain and the cold — it’d be better if they weren’t soaked already. The wind complicated things, so it was almost dark when they were finished setting it up. “You don’t happen to have blankets with you, right?” she asked as soon as they went in, her teeth chattering.

“There’s one in the bag. Shed your gown so you won’t get it wet. We’ll have to share later.”

It was difficult to hold the blanket and remove her dripping gown, but Ravella managed. Aemond facing away helped. When she was finished, she said, “It’s done. But I’m still cold.”

“Yes, there’s no wood here, though. We’ll have to make do,” he replied, matter of fact, and removed his coat. It was made of thick linen instead of the usual leather he favored. His boots were next. “We’ll have to lie side by side and leave here as soon as dawn breaks. Maybe Vhagar will be around.”

“Do you want the blanket—?”

“Keep it for now. I’m not freezing yet.” Ravella begrudged him that dragon blood Targaryens were reported to have. Having it in her veins now would be welcome. “How did Ser Philip get you?”

“He was disguised as a beggar outside the Keep. When I approached to offer him some coins, he covered my face with something. I woke up outside King’s Landing.” Her fingers traced her wrists and calves. Her skin was protected from the ropes by silk, so there were no marks. It chilled her to think of all the trouble Ser Philip had gone through to kidnap her.

“He shall be brought to justice. Are you sure he didn’t rape you?”

“I can’t say what he did while I was unconscious. I believe he fondled me whenever possible, but there was no blood or pain between my legs,” she blinked the tears away. She wouldn’t cry in front of Aemond, even under the cover of darkness. He was her childhood enemy and she was his; it was a position she’d earned for being unfazed while everyone else was scared of him.

“He’ll lose his hands as well as cock,” Aemond said. It was a promise.

“I won’t marry him.”

“He’ll be dead before that,” he assured her.

***

There were two pelts in the bag, which Aemond had meant to use as rugs. He gave one to Ravella, and took the other, each one spread side by side on the cold, hard ground, his sword between them. He wouldn’t be accused of taking advantage of her — not that Ravella would do that. Her attacks were always grounded in truth. She considered lying beneath her. But still, when they returned to the Red Keep and told his family about her rescue, he wanted everyone to know he’d been honorable. More for her sake than for his — men didn’t suffer the consequences of those situations. Ravella, however, would be ruined.

Fulfilling his promise of seeing Ser Philip punished would be a challenge. His father wasn’t the most determined person. King Viserys didn’t deserve his crown. He dealt with problems by pretending they didn’t exist, hoping they’d go away. It never happened, and indeed, the problems became worse sooner rather than later. Aemond prayed they’d arrive in King’s Landing to find his grandfather, the Hand, sitting the throne. Otto Hightower would be influenced by his daughter, Aemond’s mother, to serve justice. He’d understand Ser Philip’s action as high treason.

His father? Viserys might as well as reward the man by marrying Ravella to him.

Clattering broke his chain of thoughts. He glanced in Ravella’s direction. “Drink more wine. It’ll warm you up.”

“I don’t want to get drunk,” she stuttered badly from the clanking of her teeth.

“It’s just a sip. Take it,” he insisted. “Are you feeling better?”

“N-no.”

Aemond sighed. They couldn’t make fire, so heat should be found another way. There was only one thing to be done. “Sit. Remove your smallclothes — they aren’t helping. Give me your arm.”

“Which one?” she asked after sitting. It was dark, so he couldn’t see if she still had her smallclothes on, but he supposed she didn’t, due to the sound that had filled his ears of wet silk rubbing against skin.

“Either one,” he found her left arm in the dark, and began rubbing it with vigor. From her wrist to her elbow, until it felt like his palms would ignite. “The other,” he repeated the gesture, and asked, “Have you had lunch?”

“No, I was taken a little before lunchtime. This isn’t working. I’m still cold. I’ll get frostbite.”

“You need extreme cold for that,” he smirked in the dark, although he was furious over having to add hunger to the list of ills Ser Philip had forced upon her. What sort of dolt didn’t properly woo a woman?

“I feel extremely cold,” she coughed.

“I know. At least, this will keep your blood running in your veins. You won’t be in pain,” his words were enough to entice her into offering first a foot, then the other. His callused hands travelled from her delicate toes to the middle of her soft, silken thighs. The sound of his skin scraping hers was oddly discomforting. “How can you walk on these tiny, small little feet?” he asked.

“They’re not. I’m too tall for that.”

“You barely reach the middle of my chest, Ravella,” he shot back.

“I’m taller than your mother.”

“Hm. One or two inches, at most,” he scoffed. “But then, tiny little feet for tiny little butterflies, right. Is your skin numb? No? Good, come here. There’s a way we can avoid getting colder. It’s a hard one to stomach, but we don’t have a choice, now, hm.”

She knew exactly what he was talking about. “I won’t—”

“Or you can wait for frostbite to catch up with you. If I wake up in the morning to find you dead from the cold, I won’t bother dragging your corpse back to the Red Keep,” he rolled his eye. “I won’t brag about it, if that’s what worries you.”

“I know. It’s just… I want to go my marriage bed a maiden. What if we do something and there are… consequences?”

“You will leave this tent a maiden, as fresh as fallen snow, pure as a lily,” he shook his head, irritated, but not surprised. “I won’t lose control. It’s just some petting to make the cold go away. If I had a way to build us a fire, or feed you, I would, but right now, I don’t.”

Rationally, he knew Ravella was one of the most beautiful women in the Seven Kingdoms; it was why her unmarried status came as a surprise. However, Aemond wasn’t attracted to her. He didn’t want her. He preferred his women to be sweet and pliable, which his parents’ ward most definitely was not. She was a respected enemy. Too much his equal to whet his appetite in such a way, which was exactly why he looked forward to trading provocations with her.

But, with the cold starting to bother him as well, they didn’t have a choice. If they were in the middle of the kingswood, he might’ve tried to lead her to the coast, and follow it until they came across the Wendwater; some storm lords would be bound to travel through it, to get back to the kingsroad. From there, Aemond and her would be able to return home.

Until that time came, though… “Come here,” he ordered after retrieving his sword and putting it away. He found Ravella’s hands in the dark and brought her closer, helping her lower herself to the ground between his spread legs. The first brush of her skin against his shouldn’t have been so good, but it was. Aemond made her kneel on the rug, her knee against his balls. “I swear to the old gods and the new that I won’t ruin you, Ravella,” he said.

She inhaled. “Thank you, Aemond.”

That settled, she relaxed against him, not wincing when his cold fingers began wandering over her back. Some sounds escaped her throat, and she tilted her head. He took the opportunity to kiss her neck, applying pressure on a spot that made her moan and clutch to him. His lips traveled forward, ready to claim hers, but she halted him by saying, “I’ve never— I want to save my first kiss for my husband. Is that alright?”

“You’ve never been kissed?” he couldn’t hide his surprise. Her plump, red lips were made for kissing; even he knew that.

“No. As I said, only my husband shall do that. Kissing looks so intimate,” he could hear the embarrassment in her voice.

Aemond weighted her words, saw the truth of them. “Alright, then. No kissing on the mouth.”

She let out a shaky breath. “Thank you.”

He licked the side of her mouth. He hadn’t promised not to. The contact of his tongue made her jump, then press her body against him, her fingertips sinking into his shoulders. He liked the rawness of that, almost as much as he liked the way she moaned his name.

He took a fistful of her lush hair to keep her throat exposed, and lavished it with languid, soft kisses. He had to be careful to avoid leaving bruises, because if he did, her honor would be questioned.

“Aemond, what— what should I do?” her fingers opened and closed against his skin, as if she wanted, but wasn’t sure about how, to caress him.

“Just what you’re doing. Don’t worry,” the truth was, she was colder than him. His blood was boiling. Just the feeling of her breathing upon him was enough to make him hot.

His hands circled her back and settled on her buttocks. His fingers sank on her flesh, and he groaned in approval. He hadn’t imagined her ass was so plump. Aemond used the momentum to have her sitting on his spread thighs, straddling him. His erection was pressed between them, the head resting on her stomach. While she moaned out her surprise, he lowered his head, trying to find her breasts in the darkness. When he did, and circled a nipple with his tongue, Ravella’s hand fisted his wet hair, and her hips jerked against his cock. She was so wet, the way she moved a caress in itself. Their juices blended together, making her slide easily along his cock.

In no time, he was moving from a breast to the other, kissing and sucking, leaving bruises and marks behind, for he wanted to mark her flesh. It was mad, this desire to brand her, so she’d know no other man could ever make her feel like this. It was like the enmity between them was giving way to something else, a small concession meant to keep them alive so they could resume their bartering come morning.

He loved the taste of her skin. The texture. The way it adapted around his mouth as he tugged at and sucked her nipples, making them turn harder and more sensitive. He let go of the one his tongue was wrapped around and closed his teeth on the flesh under it, his fingers playing with the wetness between her legs. Ravella screamed, her grip on his biceps tightening as she rode that first orgasm.

Aemond didn’t waste time; while she was shrieking and thrashing, he laid her down and settled his upper body between her silky inner thighs. Her scent was dazzling. His nostrils inflated to take more in. Inside his mouth, his tongue… itched, wanting a taste, as if it had a mind of its own. He indulged — and positioned the tip at her entrance, to gather as much of her flowing juices as possible. They both moaned; Ravella panted, and he groaned deep from the back of his throat.

She was delicious, he thought. How were they supposed to go back from this?

In no time, his lower face was coated in her juices. His thumbs held her lips spread, and he licked each inch of skin. She trembled beneath him, when he licked around her entrance — such a small, tight little hole… he hardened his tongue to thrust in. As she clamped shut around him, her hand found his hair again, keeping him in that position so she could ride his mouth onto another orgasm, his tongue inside her, licking the inside of her walls, his nose pressed on her mound, inhaling her intoxicating scent, his chin a mess from her juices.

He had a flash of laying down on the ground and her sitting on his face, and while the position was too submissive for his taste, it was one he wouldn’t mind practicing with her. She tasted so good, and was so passionate, he wouldn’t mind baring himself like that. He wanted her to fuck his face, to take her pleasure of him. As long as those sweet juices kept pouring out.

As the orgasm approached, her legs threatened to close. He couldn’t have that, so he put her thighs over his shoulders, to keep her spread. “Oh my— gods, Aemond—” she moaned, and it sounded like she was crying.

He should tell her to let go, but no power in the world could make him remove his tongue from her sweet cunt. Unable to respond, he began drawing shapes inside her, realizing it was his name, over and over again. He’d die a happy man, he thought when her hips arched and she let out another scream, her feet curling into balls. After her buttocks fell on the rugs again, and she remained a limp, sated, panting mess, he took it out from her, and hurried to lick her juices, not wanting to waste any. Her flesh was a bit sensitive, her body still shaking from aftershocks… but he wasn’t done.

His next target was her clit. His fingers began massaging the lips, leading up to it— “Are you trying to kill me?” she gasped, trying to hold his wrists.

“No. Why you ask?” he smiled.

“I can’t take another,” she blurted out.

“You can give me at least one… or one hundred. I’m not done yet,” with that, his lips placed a kiss on her swollen, wet clit, before closing around it and sucking, carefully.

Ravella swore, but didn’t voice a complaint, so he continued what he was doing. He kept his pace unhurried, knowing she was sensitive. But his good intentions didn’t mean anything when she continued to make those maddening, needy sounds, sweet whimpers that sounded like music to his ears. The more she shuddered, the hungrier he became for her, the more he wanted this night to never end.

It was dangerous. Seeing her in this light, wanting her, it would drive him insane.

Only, he wouldn’t stop. It was too late for that.

His left arm settled on her hips, pining her down, while his right hand began drawing circles on her inner thigh. His mouth continued its relentless assault on her clit, his pace quickening when she began sobbing, unused to the intensity of those sensations. For a moment, Aemond considered slowing down, letting her rest. She was a virgin. This had to be shocking.

However, his unwillingness to cease went beyond that. He needed her to climax at least once more. So, he made her. It was fast. And sexy. Though he couldn’t see her, his brain insisted on picturing her cheeks flushed, her eyes — “deep pools of molten indigo,” a fitting, albeit tacky, description made by a besotted singer — snapping shut as, with a strangled scream, Ravella surrendered to the immense pleasure he gave her.

When it was over, she was boneless, utterly satiated, and laughing. Aemond, on the other hand? He was about to explode. He kept his head between her legs, puffing hot air on her wetness, his fist closed around his cock, his teeth clamped down on his lips at the feeling of the amount of pre-come leaking from him. It was like a waterfall. Still, he failed to suppress the guttural growl that left his mouth as he touched himself, the sounds he produced obscene, the engorged veins— “Let me,” her hand, so soft, so silken, covered his.

“You don’t have to,” he panted.

“I do. I must learn.”

“For your husband,” he guessed with a growl.

“Yes.”

The word was enough to make him let go, but not before showing her how he liked to be touched. Let her future husband wonder where she’d learned to caress a man, he thought with a thrust of his hips, wroth. Let him go mad with jealousy, searching the faces of every man in court in an attempt to find out who’d taught Ravella that, who she was thinking of when he fucked her.

There was no doubt in his mind Ravella would find marriage unsatisfying. It was more than pettiness saying another man couldn’t please her the way he did — to the point she was shedding her shyness to explore, with both hands, every contour of his cock, pulling on its tight skin, cupping his balls with her hands… the only thing she didn’t do was suck him, but— Aemond’s fingers dug into the earth when her lips placed a kiss to the leaking slit. “Oh, yes — do it again!” he begged. She had more mercy on her than he did, because she obliged. She placed a trail of close-lipped kisses along the shaft, rubbing her mouth on the fluid.

She had to be tasting it, it was impossible not to. And if she had continued to do that, then it meant she liked it. He allowed his mind to wander, to think of what it’d be like to be explored like that in a brightly lit room, where he could watch her reactions. He knew what she looked like when something caught her attention, and wanted to see that when she studied his cock’s responses to her touch and gaze.

“I’m close,” he announced, and took her hand, holding her wrist to still it so he could fuck her fingers. In the end, he shuddered more than she did — the jets of come like lava, it wouldn’t surprise him if there was steam coming off; he roared each time his balls contracted. He screamed her name. And, he was sure, he made a mess. That was for the morrow, though.

He collapsed on the rug and brought her closer, holding on to her hip. “Are you warm yet?”

“Yes. There’s some of your, eh, on my belly… it’s hot,” he could almost hear her blush.

“You won’t get pregnant from it,” he said. “We’ll take a dip in the river to wash off before we continue our journey, hm. Did I hurt you?”

“Aside from trying to kill me? No,” they laughed together.

“Good. I can list at least one hundred different worse ways to die. If you feel cold again, do not hesitate to wake me up,” he said. “Good night, Ravella.”

“Good night, Aemond,” she replied, and fell asleep immediately.

***

It always got a little colder after three in the morning, so Ravella didn’t feel an ounce of guilt for waking him up. Aemond announced dawn was close, so they agreed to not delay. They stroked and caressed each other until each one exploded, because they’d need it — their clothes were still soaked. Aemond had sworn he’d try to hunt something for them to break fasting, so they’d not starve until they met with a storm lord or happened upon an inn.

Her body was oddly languid when she fell on the pelt, resting her head on his shoulder. His eyepatch was gone, the water having ruined the leather. “Won’t your eye hurt if you try to fly without it?”

“Maybe. But I don’t have another,” he replied, getting tense when she touched his cheek just under the scar.

“I can give you a sleeve of my gown. It isn’t much, but at least, it’ll protect your skin from the wind and cold. I hate the cold,” she shivered.

“If you need more warming up—” he started, laughing, his fingers closing on her hip… only to be interrupted by someone opening up the tent.

Ravella screamed, as he reached for his sword. They both stared, dumbfounded, when Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, Aemond’s cousin, closed as much of the tent around her leather-clad body as possible to keep the others — possibly an army — outside. “Morning, cousin. I see you’re fine,” she smiled, before shifting her gaze to Ravella.

This wasn’t ideal, she knew as she dressed up. Aegon’s voice could be heard outside — him, Aemond could convince to keep quiet. Helaena, his sister, the same. But Princess Rhaenys? She was sure to tell the king what she’d seen, even if she didn’t have the context. Ravella would be ruined.

“Don’t worry about it,” he touched her elbow.

She nodded. He was lying about the implication of solving that problem, but she appreciated his trying. Aemond also had a reputation, which would be tarnished, because everyone believed him without vices — she knew better, however; she’d overheard more than one lady giggling to her friends about their ‘arrangements.’ Aemond was a man, after all; he had needs. But he also cultivated the repute he had. He wouldn’t suffer same as she, but still… “Cut off the sleeve so I can wrap it around your eye.”

He did. Her suggestion obviously angered him, but he obeyed, and she tied the sleeve around his head while he crouched. She quite liked the way his silken silver hair, a little tousled as a result of getting wet and — she sighed — their exercise, looked in contrast to the blue silk. After that, she gathered one of the pelts and folded it, to put it in the bag, while he did the same to the other. She hesitated before leaving the tent behind him. What was Princess Rhaenys thinking about Ravella?

“Brother,” Aegon greeted, shifting his body to peer at Ravella, “Lady Whitmore. I thought to call out, but you sounded busy,” he grinned.

Aemond’s hand tightened on the sword pommel. “That was very considerate of you, brother,” he glanced around. Ravella’s blood froze when she noticed Princess Rhaenyra’s oldest son and Prince Daemon’s daughters standing to the side with their grandmother. The four of them studied her and Aemond with curiosity, discussing something in whispers. “How did you find us?”

“I followed Vhagar,” Ravella’s mid-section bent like Aemond, and they found the dragon behind the tent, watching and judging. Or was it a fruit of her imagination? “Actually, I landed to ask you to help search for her. I thought to let you finish whatever you were doing,” his lips curved with malice, “and then you said her name… so I figured out you were together. Two rabbits, one stone.”

If possible, Aemond’s face became sourer. “And the others?”

“They must’ve seen the tent, too. You’d left the Red Keep without notice, and didn’t come back. We got worried.”

“Did you?” Aemond growled.

Aegon merely laughed. “Can we go now? Mother was almost laying an egg. I’m sure she’ll be relieved to discover Lady Whitmore was with you, instead of some ruffian.”

“Aegon,” Aemond’s voice made him stop on the way to his dragon. “Ser Philip kidnapped her.”

The older prince frowned, but nodded, before resuming his walk. As he did, Ravella noticed Princess Rhaenys and her granddaughters were already in the air. The grandson, Prince Jacaerys, walked past Aegon and stopped four feet away from them. She was surprised at the hatred burning in his gaze as he glared at his uncle. “Lady Whitmore, are you alright?” he asked.

She felt, more than saw, Aemond tense. She knew what the question meant, and also knew of the difficult relationship between Princess Rhaenyra’s sons and her half-brothers. “Yes, my prince. Thank you for asking.”

“Give me your coat,” Aemond ordered.

“Why would I do that… uncle?” Jacaerys sneered.

“It’s not for me, but for Lady Whitmore, sweet nephew.”

“Why don’t you give her yours?”

“Because mine is damp, your little imbecile,” he snapped. “Her clothes are soaked, she can’t be allowed to be on dragonback as she is, or she’ll freeze.”

Prince Jace sighed. He tossed his coat to Ravella. Aemond caught it in the air and put it around her — it was enormous, which he deemed good. When he was finished, his nephew was flying away already, and she began to feel lethargic. “We have ten minutes to get to King’s Landing. Try to nap on the way there,” he instructed, helping her walk to Vhagar. He unmade the tent while she waited, leaning against the perfectly warm beast. His bag on his shoulder, he then helped her climb the rope stairs up, until she was sitting between his legs. Her head was heavy as he wrapped a rope around their waists, so she wouldn’t slide off while they flew.

It was her first time on a dragon’s back, and she wouldn’t appreciate the sight. She didn’t even notice when Aemond all but carried her down, with the aid of the dragon masters that guarded the Dragon Pit. She didn’t see when he carried her to the wheelhouse, where the rest of his family waited. Someone helped her take a seat, and her head lolled to the side, her forehead glued to the window. Their conversation reached her ears as if from a distance. “What happened to her?” someone asked.

“Ser Philip made her inhale that potion made from poppy seed,” Aemond replied. “I believe it’s still affecting her.”

“Why hasn’t it affected you?” Prince Jace snarled.

“Because I didn’t inhale it,” Aemond’s weight made her lose her balance, and she fell against him. “I read the effects can last for three days.”

“Why did he kidnap her?” Princess Rhaenys.

“Because he’s been trying to woo her for the past year and she refused his advances. In the beginning, he was sure she was trying to charm him, but then he realized she was serious. That bloody idiot.” He snorted. After that, no one else said anything.

***

“Ravella, wake up,” Aemond beat his fingers against her cheeks. It was the most delicate way he knew of waking anyone who wasn’t Aegon up. She startled, looking around. “We’re expected in the throne room. Let me talk, hm?” he held her shoulders until she nodded, still confused.

He held her elbow as they walked to the room, escorted by Ser Willis Fell of the Kingsguard. Outside the empty room, Grand Maester Orwyle waited with a cup of steaming tea, which he held out to Ravella. “Princess Rhaenys said she was given a sleeping drought. This should help,” he explained to Aemond, who held it for her.

“It’s warm,” she said.

He couldn’t help but grin. “It does help, maester. Thank you.”

The heavy doors closed behind them. Aemond’s gaze locked on… shit, his father was sitting the throne. Still, they approached. When they were close enough, his mother asked, “Is Lady Whitmore—?”

“Ser Philip befuddled her. We’ll have to ask Orwyle more about it later, because I’ve never seen Lady Whitmore like this.”

“I’m getting better,” she moaned beside him, rubbing at her temples. “My head’s going to explode.”

“The very definition of getting better,” Aemond drawled, then turned to the throne. “That man kidnapped your ward.”

“Ser Philip’s intentions—”

“Were to rape her, then force her to marry him. He should be gelded and sent to the Wall.”

“Did he rape her?” Viserys asked.

“Not while she was conscious. Gods only know what he did when she wasn’t.”

“Don’t you know?” his father scoffed. “Luke told me he heard you partaking in… unmarried liberties with Lady Whitmore.”

Aemond glared at his nephew, until his smirk died and he had no choice but to hide beneath his mother’s skirts. Rhaenyra embraced her son, whispering something. “It was dark,” was all he said. “She sustained she was a maiden when he took her.”

“Then septas should be summoned to assess her state,” his mother said.

“If she is, Ser Philip shouldn’t be punished for rape. He didn’t touch her,” Viserys justified.

Aemond exhaled. He was too tired to deal with his father’s ineptitude, so he wasn’t cordial when he said, “Lady Whitmore is your ward, Your Grace. She’s under your protection. Surely, you aren’t as feeble-minded as to not understand whatever you fail to do to bring her kidnapper to justice will reflect badly on you, as well? It won’t matter if the Maiden herself takes form and proclaims her maidenhood, the lords and ladies will disparage her all the same and gossip about your failure to protect her.”

“Aemond!” Alicent snapped.

“No, no, Alicent, let the boy talk,” his father chuckled, his voice raspy. His right side was covered by a mask, his eye eaten away by the mysterious disease that made his body rot — Aemond found it oddly poetic, as he’d refused to act after Luke blinded Aemond. His left side had a sardonic smile turned in Aemond’s direction. “Do you deny you took liberties with her?”

“No, Your Grace.”

“Why did you? Surely, you aren’t as feeble-minded as to not understand taking advantage of your parents’ ward would reflect badly on you?” he vomited Aemond’s words back.

Aemond could appreciate the sarcasm, and inclined his head, acknowledging the truth, “It was a desperate measure, Your Grace. I couldn’t build us a fire, nor was I prepared to have company for the night. It rained, and Lady Whitmore and I were drenched. We had to generate heat somehow.” He glanced at Ravella’s ashen face. “As for what people will say about me, I challenge them to say anything. Whether it be good or bad, about me or, more importantly, about Lady Whitmore. It just won’t matter if the Crown just lets Ser Philip walk away without punishment.”

His father burst out laughing. He swirled his right hand up in the air, just three fingers moving, the other two spaces in the black glove empty — more casualties of his disease, sustained before Aemond was born. “You have a way about you, boy… you don’t even bother hiding it anymore, do you?”

Assuming his father was talking about the disdain he felt, Aemond confirmed, while everyone else stared, wondering what the king meant, “I find that holding back is a waste of time and energy, Your Grace. And lying is beneath me,” he smiled.

The king nodded. “Fair enough, Aemond. Lady Whitmore, you were saved from Ser Philip, but did you need saving from Prince Aemond?”

“No, Your Grace,” she replied after sneaking a look at him. “The prince didn’t force me.”

“His not forcing you is a result of a long, secret affair?”

“No, Your Grace,” tears of humiliation burned in her eyes.

“How did Prince Aemond save you?”

“He killed two guards standing vigil outside the tent I was being held in.”

“How did he happen to just walk upon you, Lady Whitmore?”

“I believe he heard me screaming for help.”

The king nodded. “Ser Philip has made several offers for your hand. Why didn’t you accept them?”

“I dislike Ser Philip and would rather die than be wed to him.”

“I see. You’ve always had a curious relationship with Aemond. Would you rather die than marry him?”

She lowered her head. “I believe I informed you and the queen I’d only marry for love.”

Another nod. Aemond wondered when she’d had that conversation with his parents. “Because of your parents,” Viserys said.

“Exactly.”

“That’s no longer an option,” the king warned. “You have a choice: Ser Philip or Aemond.”

“Lady Whitmore and I shall marry,” Aemond spoke up.

“I didn’t know you were so fond of her,” his father chuckled.

“You do not know a lot of things about me, Your Grace. Lady Ravella has been severely compromised because of me. I won’t run from my responsibilities.”

“Very well, then. You shall marry a week hence,” the king decreed.

He was about to get up when Aemond’s voice interrupted him, “What about Ser Philip?”

“You can seek justice in your betrothed’s name, Aemond.” He shook his head. “What did you expect me to do?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. I just knew whatever you chose to do, Your Grace, it’d be another variation of what you always do — not enough.”

***

“You shouldn’t have said that,” Ravella said as Aemond all but dragged her to her chambers.

“He’ll survive,” he growled.

“Aemond… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this.”

“I know. Go rest, Ravella. We’ll talk later, if you want. Right now, I want a bath and a meal. I believe Rosey has had one drawn since she got word you’d been found.”

“Yes, I… I didn’t thank you for saving me from that man’s clutches. I’m sorry I—”

His expression, when he looked down at her, was kind. “There’s no need to thank me. I did what was right. Go rest,” he repeated, squeezing her shoulders.

She was nodding when the door opened to reveal Rosey. There were fat tears running down the plump older woman’s face. “My heart, you’re safe,” she sobbed, holding Ravella close. She smelled of flowers and honey, a smell so comforting, Ravella closed her eyes and started crying, too. The shock and fear of this past day was finally catching up to her. She was so busy sobbing, she didn’t hear Aemond’s soft order that Rosey let her rest as long as she needed.

When she walked into her room, it was to find the most delectable scent of lavender permeating the air. Rosey took her to the tub, placed in front of the creeping fireplace, and helped her undress. She said nothing when she saw the white stains of Aemond’s seed on Ravella’s gown and belly, just set everything aside to be washed. While Ravella sat in the tub, soothed by the scented oil, she washed and brushed Ravella’s hair, which had begun to smell. Two towels were used to dry it as best as possible.

Then someone knocked. Ravella saw, from the corner of her eye, some servants walk in with covered platters, the first one telling Rosey something, and all of them leaving. “Look, sweet one, he sent you food. Eat something before you sleep, you hear. You’ll feel better.”

Ravella did. She didn’t even bother to put on a nightgown — the heavy robe felt warm and fluffy around her, almost as good as Aemond’s arms. She’d have to remember to thank him for this, too — everything was to her taste; her favorite fruits, bread and cakes. Even the cheese and jelly were ones she favored. Too bad, her hands felt too heavy to lift the food to her mouth. Thankfully, Rosey chose that moment to help her into a comfortable, thick nightgown. “I’m going to marry him, Rosey.”

“I know, my love,” the woman smiled. She’d spent Ravella’s entire life teasing her about Ravella’s ‘secret love for Prince Aemond’.

Ravella was going to explain why she was going to marry Aemond, but she didn’t have time — her eyes fluttered close as soon as her head hit the pillow, stuffed with some scented herbs, and Rosey covered her with a blanket.

Mid-afternoon, she woke up, headache-y and ravenous. Rosey was nowhere in sight — though two guards stood outside, watching her door. The queen’s orders, they said, when she asked after hearing someone (Maester Orwyle, bearing more tea) knocking —, but she’d left the platters so Ravella would be able to eat. She took the tea, and sat down to eat, having changed into a simple gown which she left unlaced. Her chambers offered a view of the godswood and training yard, and she was curious if Aemond was in either.

“Good thing you’re up,” Rosey said, closing the door. “Prince Aemond said he’ll meet you in the godswood if you want to talk.”

“Good. Sit down so I can tell you what happened,” she answered, coughing into her fist. Her voice was husky. Rosey, her mother’s former maid, obeyed, helping herself to a slice of orange cake. There was a… paste made of some dark, exotic fruit exported from Essos drizzling down the cake, and Ravella simply loved it. As she told Rosey what happened yesterday, she noticed as her maid’s hands clenched, how she was on the verge of tears. “I promised Monica and Addam I’d protect you,” she sniffed.

“Rosey, you have,” Ravella circled the table to hug her. “You aren’t a warrior, but you’ve protected me — fiercely, I must add. And you’ve showered me with all the love my parents couldn’t give me since the gods took them. Please, don’t cry. I’m alright,” she kissed Rosey’s brow. The sight of her tears unsettled Ravella. Rosey had raised her, since Ravella’s mother died after having her. It was enough to make Ravella want to feed that little leech Ser Philip to Vhagar. Aemond would agree if she asked… exactly why she wouldn’t ask.

“I’m so glad Prince Aemond found you,” Rosey sobbed.

“Me too. I’ve never been happier for seeing him,” she laughed. “Do me a favor? Tell him I’m going to the godswood now, if he can meet me there. I must pray.”

They left the room together, each one going in a direction. In the godswood, Ravella ignored the speculative glances thrown in her direction, and knelt on the ground in front of the uncarved weirwood. It wasn’t common for Houses south of the Neck to worship the old gods, but hers did. And now that she was the last Whitmore alive, it was her duty to keep her family history going. Gods, she had so much to speak to Aemond.

“How long have you been there?” she smirked, her eyes still closed, when she finished preying.

“Some minutes. I didn’t want to disturb you,” he said from his position leaning against the tree. His sword was stuck on the ground to his right. “What did you ask for?”

She made a gesture and he removed the sword, sinking it on the ground between his legs. “I was thanking them for keeping us safe last night. And… I was thinking of my parents. I’m the last of my House.”

“Father said your parents influenced your decision to get married. What did he mean?”

“My father was a minor lord. His estate was rich, his lady wife would have a comfortable life, and he was a wonderful man. But his wealth didn’t compare to what my mother stood to inherit as Lady of Starfall.”

“Your mother was a Dayne?” Aemond asked, his voice louder than she’d ever heard — his screaming of last night discounted.

She nodded. “She was the eldest, and upon her mother’s death, would’ve succeeded her as Lady in her own right. She gave up her birthright in order to marry my father. It was…” Ravella sighed. “The way he talked about her, he said they fell in love at first sight. They met one day, the next she was announcing she was leaving for the Reach, and as soon as they got to the Park from Dorne, they got married. And they never regretted it. She never regretted choosing him. I heard every story my father had to tell, and I knew I wanted that for myself. Not marrying for love would be spitting on them, I thought. And, after he died and I was brought here, I felt so lonely, I needed someone to feel about me the same he did about her. It was the only way I could be whole again.”

“But you’ve been saddled with me instead,” he pointed out.

“It was a vain hope, anyway. What my parents had is rare. Now that I’m older, I believe it was a gift. So, when the subject of marriage first came up, I told your parents I’d settle on an honorable man, who were willing to take up my name… all the better if he worshipped the old gods, too.”

“Only, you got me,” he repeated.

“You’re an honorable man. You not only saved me from Ser Philip, but you also kept your urges under control,” she coughed. “I don’t think most men would have.”

He glanced away. “I made a promise. If I can’t remain true to my word, then what does it matter?” he sighed. “About taking up your name… I’m afraid it’s nonnegotiable — I’m a Targaryen. There’s a slim chance I—” he trailed off. “It doesn’t mean our children can’t be raised to treasure and respect your family’s history. Maybe one or more of them will take up your name and continue your line. I’m not opposed to that.”

“Really?” she sighed.

“Of course. I’m a second son, Ravella. I don’t have a lot to offer. It wouldn’t be honest, or fair, to deny our children the best opportunities, which only you can provide.”

“That’s not true. You’ll be a great father—”

“How? I don’t know what a good father is. The only thing I have is my yearning for a father who loved me. One I buried after mine refused to offer me a single word of comfort when I lost my sight. Ser Criston and my grandsire did their best to step up when a man was needed, but they weren’t my father. You must’ve noticed he never called me ‘son’, only referring to me as ‘boy’ or ‘Aemond’. He keeps us at a distance, as if afraid of being called our father, so I don’t know what fathers must do to be considered good. You do, because you had one.”

She swallowed. She wasn’t used to this side of Aemond — the stoic, jaded prince who exchanged barbs with her to their hearts’ content was the same Aemond everyone knew, only perceived by others as scary. Ravella wondered if anyone considered what lay under the surface that was his impassive face.

“I didn’t have a mother, Aemond. I missed her all my life. Now that I’m about to get married, and maybe to have my own children, I miss her all the worst. Rosey tried, and she was great, but she isn’t my mother. I don’t know what a good wife does, or a good mother. I just wish she were with me, to teach me, and to take care of me, because I know childbearing is hard,” his hand gripped hers, and her chin trembled. “I had the best father in the world. You, the mother,” her sudden brightness made him chuckle. “So… will you protect your children? Teach them how to fight? Share your favorite books? Teach them about riding dragons?” He answered ‘of course’ to each question, so she allowed herself to sit next to him. “Then I think you’re going to do great. We can use what we learned from my great father and your great mother, can’t we? That should suffice. Our children won’t grow up feeling unloved nor unwanted.”

In response, Aemond took her hand and brought it to his lips. “Thank you, my lady.”

She grinned, blushing. But her enthusiasm faded when she realized, “It’s a pity I can’t invite my family for our wedding. I’d love to have them here.”

“A week isn’t enough to sail from Dorne to King’s Landing,” he agreed, expression blank.

“No,” she sighed. “And I wish I could also retrieve my family’s wedding cloak. The one I should wear.”

“That can be done. We take Vhagar and fly to your home. You can send a raven now, asking that it be made ready for you.”

“Would you do that for me?” she asked. “But what about the tourney?”

“I don’t give a shit about tourneys,” he scoffed.

“Is that an excuse to avoid crowning me the queen of love and beauty, Prince Aemond?”

“There’s snot during running down your nose, Lady Whitmore. That’s hardly beautiful.”

“There isn’t—” the sneeze cut her off. Mortified, she covered her face with both hands, her eyes wide. “By the gods—”

“Calm down, Ravella. I was just teasing you,” he laughed so hard, he fell on his side.

His mirth at her expanse angered her, so she hushed him. Aemond held her arms, and flipped her so fast, she barely had time to turn right before she sneezed again. He laughed again, loud. When she made it to slap his hands away, he lowered his head and kissed her. His lips felt just right against hers. She didn’t have a choice but to allow him to continue. The fight left her, and Aemond let go of her. She raised her hands to circle his neck.

The kiss ended too soon. True enough, they were breathless, but it was too soon. The idiot was grinning down at her when she opened her eyes. “You were right about something,” he said. “You did save your first kiss to you husband.”

Ravella blinked. He was right, she thought. They weren’t married yet, naturally, but having declared their intentions in public, and in the godswood, just made the ceremony a detail. The realization disarmed her, and made her join him in laughter.

The next time he kissed her, it wasn’t to keep her quiet, but just because they wanted to kiss.

***

Ravella’s cold, then another issue — which he suspected strongly was her moon’s blood — ended up postponing the wedding in three weeks. It was plenty of time for Aemond to prepare a few surprises. While she was on her sick bed, receiving daily visits from him, both of them exchanging insults back and forth even if she were feverish, he flew to her estate, close to Tumbleton, to retrieve her wedding cloak. There, he was shown a portrait of her mother, Lady Monica. The similarities between the two were undeniable. The only difference was the nose, which Ravella inherited from, by the looks of it, her father.

“Lady Monica’s death was hard on her husband? He never blamed Ravella for it, did he?” he asked Maester Gaius, the castellan.

“He… no, Your Grace. Lord Addam worshipped the ground Lady Monica walked on, and he considered Lady Ravella the living proof of their love. He wouldn’t taint their love like that, especially after they spent the better part of two decades trying to conceive. Besides, Lady Monica didn’t die in childbirth.”

“Ravella said—” Aemond frowned.

“Childbirth was difficult on Lady Monica, but it didn’t kill her,” the man insisted. “Two days after Ravella’s birth, she resumed her duties as Lady Whitmore, even though we insisted she did not. We were all fussing over her. She sentenced a guard who’d been trying to rape a maid to be gelded and sent to the Wall, and the man didn’t accept her decree — he attacked her. She killed him, but he had poisoned his blade, thinking he’d have to face Lord Addam. When the wound began to faster, she understood what was happening and asked to be granted mercy. Lord Whitmore… did it himself,” the maester sighed, sad. “A part of him died with her, and he lived only to raise the baby.”

“Gods!” Aemond shook his head. “I wonder how she got the idea that her mother died in childbirth.” That wasn’t exactly what she’d said, but what she’d implied.

“The servant was afraid Ravella would grow up to blame her for her mother’s death, so Lord Whitmore decided to tell Ravella her mother was attacked and killed by a man fleeing justice. I suspect she never believed it, because there was no way Lord Addam would’ve allowed his wife to just wander about a few days after her labors. She must’ve decided he didn’t want to say anything that would make her feel guilty about her mother’s death, either,” the older man laughed. “Ravella was a smart child. She understood from an early age that her father loved speaking of her mother, but doing that always made his heart bleed. So, she paid attention and didn’t question him, to avoid making him suffer. He shared everything of his own volition, though.”

“Poor Ravella,” he shook his head again. Somehow, he’d have to convince her of the truth of the maester’s words. “Why did he do that? Surely Ravella would understand…” a thought occurred. “The servant was Rosey, right?”

A nod. “We told her Rosey was dedicated to her because she was Lady Monica’s maid, which she was, but Ravella grew up thinking Rosey came from Starfall. The truth was, Rosey was determined to repay Lady Monica for saving her, but since she couldn’t do it, she decided to look after her daughter instead.” The maester shrugged, and his chain rattled around his shoulders. “Lady Ravella is an easy person to love, as you must know.”

“Yes,” he nodded, thoughtful. This explained Rosey’s reaction when Ravella returned, the way she’d almost knelt by his feet in gratitude for saving her ‘sweet heart’. “Maester, I need a favor, if you don’t mind.”

Maester Gaius didn’t mind. He did exactly what Aemond asked — not because it was a prince asking, but because it’d make Ravella happy. Aemond had forgotten she spent some months of the year traveling to Dorne, to visit her mother’s family, and to her estate, to keep close to her people. It was at his mother’s suggestion, he was told. On the maester’s insistence, he also took a few days to oversee the estate himself, since he was supposed to rule it as Ravella’s husband. There was nothing wrong, of course — every living person here was devoted to Ravella. They considered her a good lady, just like her parents had been good. It’d make her happy when he returned to King’s Landing and teased her about it.

Not as happy as the surprise he’d planned, he thought a day before the wedding as Vhagar, followed by Sunfyre, landed. He helped his passenger climb down, while Aegon showed his where to step. It was close to dinnertime, so he had an overly emotional Rosey show their guests to their chambers, where they’d change to join the royal family for dinner. They were going to their ward when his mother appeared, escorted by Ser Criston Cole. The Kingsguard blinked several times when he saw who was there, which only made Aemond grin. He introduced the parties, then asked, “Mother, is everything ready?”

“Yes, Aemond. Let’s just hope it doesn’t rain. I’ve also had the sept cleaned, because if it does—”

“It won’t, mother,” he assured her. “Ravella worships the old gods. The godswood is where we shall marry, come rain or shine.”

His mother sighed. “You’re so lucky the High Septon considers this a most romantic wedding gift, Aemond. I swear, if it rains and that poor girl gets drenched and sick, I shall put you on my knees!” But she wouldn’t, and they both knew it. “Now, it isn’t time to argue. I’m sure our guests are tired after their trip,” she opened up a smile and escorted them to their rooms herself. For his part, Aemond was animated for seeing she was accepting of his decision to take Ravella for wife in the godswood. That had to be the world’s worst-kept secret, which explained his mother’s nervousness.

Hours later, he was standing close to the table, talking to Helaena. There was an absent, almost oblivious gleam to his sister’s eyes, but she snapped out of whatever vision she was having, and said, “You’re happy, brother.”

“Yes, dear. It’s strange, isn’t it?” he smiled, caressing her cheek. “Tell me what Ravella did when she found the gown.”

Aemond had flown to Whitmore Park not only to get her wedding cloak, but the gown her mother had worn the day she married her father. Rosey had told him of it, insisting it’d fit Ravella. And, when his eye settled on it, he realized it was perfect. The lilac and silver silk gown would suit her just fine — it bore the colors of her parents’ Houses, after all. As would the necklace he was going to give her.

But he wasn’t a fool. He knew the greatest gift was one she couldn’t hold.

The doors opened and she walked in, stopping by to greet Princess Rhaenys and her husband, Lord Corlys Velaryon. For some reason, his father had insisted on summoning the entire family to watch Aemond’s wedding. His half-sister was there, as well, with her bastard sons and their uncle, though they were already seated, Rhaenyra speaking to their father. While his bride spoke to his cousins, Aemond made a discreet gesture to Ser Criston. The man nodded, and disappeared from view.

His mother walked towards Ravella and joined the Velaryons in conversation. His breathing hitched as she made her way to him. He found that he couldn’t wait, so excused himself and left Helaena alone. These past weeks, Aemond had courted Ravella, to let her know their wedding wasn’t a burden. Only, he courted her his own way, in a way she’d appreciate. Not even after his grandfather snapped that he was going to drive her away, Aemond ceased. He knew she looked forward to their verbal battles with the same anticipation as he.

“My prince,” she made a curtsy. “I looked for you these past days. You were running an errand, I was told.”

“I was, my lady,” he confirmed. “I wouldn’t have gone, if I had suspected my absence would peeve you, my sweet, blushing bride.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I wasn’t peeved. I just thought it was so sad that you felt the need to run and hide from me. I’m not the dragon here,” she shrugged.

“Run? Lady Ravella, the only one about to run is you,” he glared at his mother. Alicent’s smile died when she saw the look on his face. Apparently, she told the Velaryons to take their seats, for dinner would be served soon, and walked to join him and Ravella. “Mother, my bride is under the impression I was running from her.”

“She—? Excuse me?” Alicent blinked, confused.

He repeated his words, adding, “Please, tell her she’s only one about to run.”

“Aemond, no,” his mother pleaded.

“Aemond, yes,” he corrected with an evil glint to his eye. Then, he glanced down at Ravella. “Go ahead, Ravella. If you do consider me such a craven, go away. I won’t stop you.”

“You’re being incredibly childish. How am I supposed to raise my children with a child for their father?” she stomped her foot, then looked at Alicent. “I swear, Your Grace, your son is absolutely impossible.” It didn’t help that his mother was agreeing, although he saw her trying to fight a giggle. “Who guarantees I won’t be dragged back if I do decide to go?”

Aemond leaned forward. “Ravella, let’s be honest — you wouldn’t get past those doors if you tried to leave,” he pointed to the doors, but she didn’t turn. “Try it. I promise I’ll give you half an hour before I set up in pursuit. Surely, you mustn’t deserve the present I spent these past days securing you.”

“Present?” she tilted her head. “What present? No one said anything about presents!” her face contorted. “You were riling me up, Aemond!”

“Was I, though? Try to find out, little butterfly,” the despised nickname, a mockery of her height and House sigil, made sure her temper was triggered. “Go,” he made a shooing gesture.

“Aemond!” his mother held his wrists.

“Why would I go? So you can accuse me of being a coward? I wasn’t the one who disappeared three days before my wedding, Aemond!”

Alicent took that declaration as invitation to excuse herself. Flabbergasted, Aemond realized Ravella was hurt. “Oh, Ravella — were you really upset? I did go away to get you a gift. Your heart’s desire. What were you thinking, silly?”

“I don’t know,” she shook her head. “I just… I wasn’t the bride of your choice. I thought you didn’t want to marry me. And the way everyone behaved, as if they knew something I didn’t…”

“They knew something you didn’t,” he caressed her cheek, smiling. “You couldn’t just do what I expected you to do, right? Had to do things the hard way,” he shook his head, irritated. “Turn around and try to walk past that door, see I won’t let you go. Unless something stops you first.”

“Aemond, this fabled present is behind me, isn’t it? This’d better be good, because—” she swayed to the side, her equilibrium faltering. “Grandma? Uncle Arthur?” she breathed before looking up at him. “I don’t understand—”

“Go to them,” he said, lightly touching her shoulders. “You wanted them here, so I brought them. Good present?” he grinned.

“The best!” she said, pulling him down for a kiss. His mind was still reeling when she suddenly let go and hurled herself at her uncle. The Sword of the Morning caught her with a deep bout of laughter, then kissed her cheek. Aemond watched in silence while she exchanged hugs with her grandmother and uncle, hooking their arms together.

“—of course I will stand there, you silly goose,” Arthur, an older man in his late forties, was saying. “It was why Prince Aemond brought me. He brought Mother because she was important, but me? I’m here to represent your father.”

“Precisely,” Aemond took her hand, grinning. “I’d have brought your entire family, but that was a difficult thing to accomplish. Several ravens were dispatched to negotiate Vhagar’s landing and who’d come. I was most diligent, and expect to be duly thanked, little one.”

“Uncle, if he calls me that again, cut his tongue off,” Ravella ordered, her voice sweet.

Arthur, who was taller than even Aemond, sighed. “Darling—”

She screeched low. “Dear gods, is there one or one hundred harpies somewhere in your family tree?” Aemond asked her grandmother. Ravella blushed, understanding what he was hinting at.

“No, but apparently there are going to be dragons,” the woman’s eyes, a shade closer to purple than to Ravella’s, gleamed.

“Speaking of them, allow me to introduce you to my family,” Aemond smiled, offering his arm. The white-haired woman took it, while Arthur took Ravella’s. They stopped in front of the table, “Your Graces, I’d like to introduce my betrothed’s family. Lady Ravella Dayne of Starfall, and her son, Ser Arthur, the Sword of the Morning.”

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Lady Dayne,” the king said. “I confess I’ve always been curious to meet the woman who had such scathing words to write to me.”

“You didn’t let my granddaughter live with her family, Your Grace,” Lady Ravella said, drily, as Aemond helped her sit. “You mustn’t have expected thankfulness.”

“Of course not. I was merely respecting her House’s history. She’s a Whitmore, not a Dayne.”

“She’s a Dayne in every way that matters.”

“Mother—”

“Oh, be quiet, Arthur!” Aemond had the feeling this argument was older than Ravella. “But I can’t complain much, Your Grace. If my granddaughter had been sent to Dorne, your son wouldn’t be drooling over her.”

“Excuse me?” the son in question murmured.

“True,” his father’s agreement only added to his shock. “In fact, you have no idea how grateful I am for your granddaughter. This is the first time in years I’ve seen my son happy, and that’s all thanks to her,” he raised his cup. “I’d like to toast to Lady Ravella… Whitmore,” he added, glancing at the older Ravella, before looking at Aemond’s bride. “I’m very pleased to see you joining the family, dear child. Rejecting all those wedding proposals these years was worth it, wasn’t it?” he asked Alicent, who was nodding with a grin, also holding her cup while they all drank.

“Excuse me?” Aemond insisted, louder this time.

“Explain it,” Viserys told his wife.

“Of course, my love,” his mother sipped her wine to buy time. Her face sheepish, she sighed before looking at Aemond. “I… grew very fond of Lady Ravella over the years. She became like a daughter to me. In the beginning, I was worried about the way you two always clashed, but then I realized you both enjoyed it. I was convinced you carried a torch for each other — a dragon-sized torch, really. I just couldn’t force you into anything. I wanted you to conclude it on your own. So, I convinced your father to reject the proposals made, hoping you’d realize what you felt for each other.”

“… What about Ser Philip, Your Grace?” Ravella asked after exchanging a glance with Aemond.

“Oh, that rat!” Alicent growled. Aemond arched a brow, glancing at Aegon. He didn’t know his mother, so meek and sweet, had a temper — but Aegon did. “I’m sorry, Ravella. If I’d known he was so infatuated, I’d have arranged a marriage for him. I’m glad Aemond found you before he could hurt you.”

“So… you didn’t plan this?” Aemond asked.

“Of course not! Why would I do anything to hurt her? I wanted her to marry you, not run the other way at the idea of it!” Alicent shook her head. “You see, Aemond, I’m not the best mother in the world. I make mistakes, but I’ve always wanted what’s best for my children, and I believed Ravella was it for you — you met before you lost your eye, and after it, she never flinched when she saw your eyepatch or the scar. She wasn’t afraid of you. The arguments you had gave you a vigor nothing else did. I had to keep her close. I prayed every day that neither of you would say anything to drive the other away, because the gods know, you can both be impossible. But it has worked out. Not the way I envisioned, but I’m not complaining.”

Aemond stared at her. “It explains the jests,” he inclined his head to Ravella.

“Bloody right it does,” she agreed. “Rosey was your mother’s accomplice.” At that, the queen grinned. “I feel played. Cyvasse pieces don’t feel like I do right now,” she downed her cup.

“And I was thinking myself the smart one,” Aemond drawled, raising his cup. “In this case, I’d like to toast my mother, the most cunning, patient woman to ever grace these Seven Kingdoms. May the Crone continue filling her head with these evil ideas — Daeron is next, I believe. Thank you, Mother,” he grinned, letting her, and only her, see his gratitude.

They drank again. Ravella took her turn, “I’d toast two of the most remarkable women I’ve ever had the honor of meeting. Everything I know about being a wife and a mother… and it isn’t much, I know… I learned from watching you,” she looked at her grandmother. “I spent my entire life hearing about what a wonderful woman my mother was, and I know it’s thanks to you, Grandma. There’s not a day that I didn’t wish to have met her. And then, there’s the queen, who went way beyond what was expected of her to give a child who was, well, a burden, all the care she needed after suddenly finding herself an orphan. You treated me the same as your own children, Your Grace. As things are, I’m incredibly lucky for having you both, because I have a lot to learn yet… and since my mother isn’t here, I can’t think of better teachers,” she swallowed. “And now you’ve entrusted me with your son’s happiness, which I know is a show of the esteem and the respect you feel for me. I swear I’ll do everything in my power to make him happy, Your Grace.”

Aemond downed his cup, as he watched his mother whisper, ‘I know,’ at Ravella, her eyes brimming with tears. He was glad she was at peace with herself — her idea to marry Aegon and Helaena off had backfired in the worst way. This way, she could at least know her foster daughter and one of her sons were happy, because Aemond and Ravella would work to be just that. Happy.

More toasts were made, and Aemond ended up having his and Ravella’s cups filled with diluted wine. “We can’t be seen drunk tomorrow, my bride,” he whispered to her.

“I know, future husband,” she whispered back. “Besides, I swear my head still aches from that stupid concoction Ser Philip forced on me.”

Aemond smiled. He wanted to be in the room when she found out her uncle had pursued the man and killed him. Aemond had been angry with Arthur, but the older knight, cleaning the blood off his sword, explained the killing belonged to him, because, “I’m still Ravella’s closest male kin. You are not. After you’re wed, you can kill anyone you wish, if I don’t catch them first.” It made sense, and more important, Ser Philip was dead and fated to become just a bad memory, so Aemond didn’t raise a fuss.

Still, being killed by the Sword of the Morning himself was more honor than that rat had deserved.

Oh well.

***

Next morning, Ravella was woken at dawn break to get ready for her wedding. She’d slept late, after having excused herself and her family from dinner so they could talk. Aemond had accompanied them. Now, Rosey was scrubbing her scalp and applying a sweet-smelling soap to it. Per her grandmother’s instructions, Ravella was to rest until it was time to leave for the sept.

She stood in front of a mirror as Rosey laced up the beautiful gown her mother had brought from Dorne and wore a few times — the day she married Ravella’s father and the days they commemorated the anniversary of their wedding with a feast. Her hands hovered over it, and she smiled at her reflection; this was the closest she’d ever felt to her mother.

Next, came the beautiful necklace of sapphires set on a shiny black Valyrian steel foundation — Aemond’s wedding gift. He’d told her it was part of the same sapphire he wore in his empty eye socket. Ravella had teased that the gift was an attempt to mark her, and he didn’t deny it, so it filled her with pride to wear the jewel.

Rosey curled her hair, and Ravella decided to let it loose, cascading down her back. Aemond liked her hair, almost as much as she liked his. Last night, while they said their farewells, he embraced her to whisper how anxious he was to see her hair spread over his pillows, so she decided to torment him.

“Your parents would be so proud of you, my sweet,” Rosey smiled at her.

“I like to believe so, Rosey. I miss them. But they left you to take care of me. In a way, they’re still here,” she kissed Rosey’s cheeks, almost asking her to quit crying.

Rosey held her face between her calloused hands. “You finally have what you’ve always looked for,” she said, and it was true. Perhaps Ravella and Aemond weren’t in love the same way as her parents, but it was undeniable they felt something for each other. Maybe everything they went through together had always been fated to lead them to this, she thought.

“Do you think he’s wearing my gift, Rosey?”

“Yes, I’ve seen it on his finger. Prince Aemond shall be a good lord. I’m going to call your uncle now. Wait here,” as if Ravella would dare leave.

“Where’s Rosey, uncle?” she asked a few minutes later.

“She’s with your grandmother. They’re waiting for us,” he replied, serious. “Lysa,” their cousin from High Hermitage, “has sent you a gift. She’d like it if you could wear it.”

“What is it?” Ravella studied the simple gold chain. But then she saw the star and sword pendant.

“This belonged to your mother. Monica gave it to Lysa the day she left Starfall. Our cousin thinks you should have it.”

“Tell her I love— no, I’ll do it myself, when Aemond takes me to Dorne. But, tell her I love it,” she smiled, then pointed out, “This isn’t the way to the sept.”

“I know. We aren’t supposed to go there.” She stared at him, quizzically. He didn’t explain further. As they walked, and she noticed the way the crowd was growing, she held on to his arm. “Is this what I think it is?”

Arthur grinned.

It was. Two tents of sailcloth — in the colors of Houses Whitmore and Dayne — divided the godswood in two. Ravella’s eyes filled with tears, because this was obviously Aemond’s idea. He’d planned the surprise and got everyone to follow suit.

When he stepped into view, positioning his tall, lithe body in front of the weirwood, she smiled at him. He’d gone beyond what she expected to show his commitment. He, who disliked jewels, was even wearing her father’s signet ring with her House’s sigil — a silver butterfly in flight —, and a brooch she’d commissioned of onyx and rubies with the three-headed dragon of his. As usual, he was dressed all in black, which only made the jewels extra sparkly under the bright morning sun.

“I’m so glad you’re here, uncle,” she glanced at him. “There aren’t a lot of people in the world that Father would’ve trusted to do this.”

“I know, my love. That’s why I’ve threatened the prince into making you happy. It’s exactly what your father would do.”

They laughed. Ravella couldn’t take her eyes off Aemond, even if she knew the polite thing was to nod at as many people as possible. She could always look at them later — there was something unbeatable about the enraptured look on his face as he waited for her. Some feet before they reached him, he strode forward, impatient, and offered his hand, which she took. Arthur gave her brow a kiss, and slapped Aemond’s forearm, entrusting her to his care.

They took part in each step of the ceremony — singing, praying, and making their vows. When it came the time to exchange the cloak, Aemond removed hers and took the Targaryen one Aegon was holding. He settled it around her shoulders, then clasped it at her neck. When she turned back to face him, she said, “I love you, Aemond.”

“I love you too, my little butterfly,” he said and kissed her. Enthusiastic clapping followed alongside lewd jokes. It was a pity they couldn’t skip the feast.

***

In the garden, after standing in line to receive compliments, Aemond noticed Helaena staring at him. He approached Ravella, where she was speaking with a group of ladies, and announced he was going to steal her for a while, “Helaena wishes a word, dear.”

He took her by the elbow after they excused themselves, and led her to where Helaena was sitting, alone.

“Helaena, I’m surprised to see you here. Are you enjoying the feast?” Ravella asked. His heart warmed at seeing her affection for his sister; having been raised with them, she knew fully well Helaena had issues with large groups of people.

“Yes, Ravella, I’m enjoying the feast. It’s been mended,” she whispered absently.

“What’s been mended?” Aemond asked after looking at Ravella.

“Destiny — the treads were broken, now they are not,” Helaena said, as if it could be explained. At their blank look, she shook her head. “I can’t say much, but I can tell you something. I told Aemond a long time ago, but he didn’t pay attention, now it’s your turn to hear it, Ravella.”

“Helaena,” he cut her off, “you mean that dream?”

She smiled, nodding. “So, you did pay attention. Do you want to tell Ravella?”

Aemond arched a brow, glancing at his wife. Then, he faced his sister again, “It won’t sound so interesting if you don’t.”

“You’re making me curious,” Ravella laughed.

“Alright,” Helaena clasped her hands. “I had a dream about Aemond not too long before you came to court — I saw him lose his eye to get a dragon. After that, I dreamed of a dragon alone in a dark and cold cave. It was lifeless, but for one much smaller flying animal the dragon snapped his jaws at, in an attempt to capture it. At first, I thought it was a hatchling — they’re known to do that.”

Aemond, having already foreseen the conclusion of Helaena’s dream, pressed his lips together and watched Ravella; she looked hypnotized, as if picturing his sister’s words.

“The dragon turned this way and that, trying to capture the animal that dared poke at him. The little flier didn’t care — it just continued coming, making the dragon lose sight of his treasures. They stayed fighting like that for a long time. However, the dragon simply gave up sometime and let his tormentor come closer… my heart stopped beating when I saw the dragon let loose a steaming breath on it, but the little flier got away again, and after that, everywhere the animal flew to, it was illuminated by a soft silvery glow,” she looked down, smiling.

“What happened next?” Ravella squealed.

“Eventually, after poking so much at the dragon, the little animal — which I’d begun to believe was a firefly —, was able to hit him directly. Again, and again, until it just stopped,” Helaena sighed, sounding frustrated, “as if it’d just given up on pestering the dragon. And, everywhere it touched, the scales turned color, gained life. The dragon went from being pretty formless to crouching on the ground, surrounded by his treasures, his scales a dark, bloody red, while he… snapped at the flier, pestering it to get its attention. I try not to get inside the dreams, but I had to walk in, and take a closer look,” Helaena’s hand shot up to her face.

While Aemond offered her his wine glass, Ravella was nodding. She was one of the few people who didn’t fear Helaena’s visions — something she attributed to First Men magic. There were rumors Ravella was a skinchanger, though Aemond had yet to see it.

“I approached the dragon on light feet, not wanting to startle it, and realized he wasn’t just a Targaryen, but Aemond, since his left side was scarred, and he was missing an eye. It isn’t uncommon for Targaryens to appear in dreams as dragons, you know. Upon that realization, I must’ve made a noise, because the dragon turned his head and spread his wings, holding his body up like a winged snake,” she made the posture, attracting more than one curious glance, while Aemond laughed. “He roared at me. The flier showed up again to resume its fluttering around him, and my eyes were fixed on it, trying to guess what it was. Upon noticing this, the dragon’s fist shot up suddenly, and closed around something — the flier disappeared from sight, frightened of the dragon, I thought. And then the dragon lowered his head, his snout so close I could smell his breath, and opened that mouth full of teeth as tall as me, and I saw a column of green fire at the back of his throat, ready to be unleashed.”

Ravella stared at Aemond, eyes wide. “You threatened your sister?!”

“He did,” Helaena confirmed. “I’d heard of dreamers being injured while in the dreams — which is why I watch from a distance —, and knew my mind would be shattered if the dragon burned me… so I began pleading with him in High Valyrian. I reminded him he was my brother, and in response, he turned his back, clenching his fist so hard, his claws teared at his paw. I didn’t give up, like the flier hadn’t, and was able to circle his huge body again, until I was facing him. Then I asked him to show me the treasure he was holding so close to his heart, and vowed I’d leave if he did. I just wanted to see what it was. He rolled his eye, let out a resigned breath and extended his paws towards me. And… he spread them open,” she sighed, still beaming and gesturing like the dragon in her vision. “He relaxed his hold, and I saw the most beautiful, delicate butterfly in his palm. His grip should’ve smashed her, but she was whole. And even though she could fly away to freedom, to the green forest around, she chose not to. She continued spreading her pale tendrils of silver around the dragon, healing him and the once-dead cave right before my eyes, until he was whole again. And the dragon insisted on keeping the butterfly safe, making her his hoard. The butterfly is you, Ravella.”

She was blinking. Although she said “I’m not… I didn’t—” there was a silly smile on her face.

“You most definitely did,” Aemond interrupted her. Helaena nodded with another beam, lightly touching Ravella’s elbow before she walked away, muttering again about destiny being right. As she did, Aemond held his wife’s hands, demanding that she look at him. “You healed my soul. When I was at my lowest, you convinced me my life was still worth living. Do you remember that?”

A few weeks after he’d lost use of his eye — the globe was removed much later, when Aemond was fifteen and the sight of the ruined, scarred eye filled him with equal parts anger and anguish —, Ravella found him crying in his room. She sat on the bed beside him and just stayed there, refusing to be dismissed. The light touch of her hand on his made Aemond recoil, an unwelcome show of vulnerability displayed to his favorite enemy, but for some reason, instead of being angry, he looked at her. She began spreading an ointment on the ravaged skin, and when she was finished, said, “I was jealous when I saw you protecting your mother.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You told your father Aegon had called Princess Rhaenyra’s sons bastards, but it was the queen. And when you saw her cry over your eye, you told her it was worth it, because you had gotten Vhagar,” she said with a pout. “That’s why your mother loves you so much. I wish I could’ve protected my parents, too,” a sigh, as she folded her hands on her lap. “I wish I had a family to protect.”

Aemond had been shocked by her words — each one. Nobody had suspected the queen as the perpetrator behind the rumors of Rhaenyra’s sons’ parentage, and no one, not even his mother, had guessed at Aemond’s distress at seeing his mother cry. A lot had happened that day, and although young, Aemond knew it shouldn’t be his mother seeking justice for him. And seeing her crying and sad was wrong, so he told her losing his eye was a small price to pay for Vhagar.

Of course, after a lifetime trying to claim a dragon, he’d also believed his words. But as time passed, and he began to find difficulties and fear his dreams would die before he’d even had the chance to consider how to fulfill them, Aemond began to feel despaired, hollow. He hadn’t seen a way out of it, until Ravella’s naïve, heartfelt praise awakened a fire inside him. It was when he decided to push himself, to be at his best. He had had to adapt. Each failure demanded sweat and blood, but then, so did each victory. When he was alone, he cried, and he felt better, for he recalled her words. If Ravella, so mercurial and taunting, a non-friend, could see his worth, then it meant it was hidden down deep.

After that lonely afternoon, Aemond began calling her ‘butterfly’, for she was a small thing of beauty, a real treasure. “Maybe that wasn’t your intention, but you offered a lost boy in agony the incentive he needed to be the man he’s become,” he said.

“Oh my gods, Aemond, I—”

He shushed her with another kiss. Her soft hands framed his face, and she stood on tiptoe to kiss him better while he bent his spine, his fingers circling her waist, lifting her several inches off the ground.

Around them, the crowd roared and clapped. Ravella blushed as several guests made loud jests about their relief at finally seeing them settled, but Aemond didn’t mind; he was relieved, as well.

They broke the kiss and he took her into his arms. “Is it me or they were more anxious than us?” she asked as he walked toward their chambers, carrying her. Not a single person dared stop him, or call for the bedding.

He sighed, “They’ve lived vicariously through us, my love. To them, our wedding is like… reaching the end of a very good book,” he compared. “For us, it’s only the beginning.”

“If it’s to be the start of a good book, then we should start writing the prologue. Do you have ink and paper, dragon prince?” she grinned, rubbing their noses together, her hand tangling in his hair. Aemond arched a brow, and suddenly let out a loud roar, before bursting out laughing. The symphony of Ravella’s own laughter made his once weary soul spark to life. Gently, he lowered her body to their bed, a soft, besotted smile curving his mouth as he announced, “I have you, and that’s all I need, my little butterfly,” before they locked their lips together.

[abusedinwildwood]

To Start

[TW child abuse, neglect, and sexual abuse]

I am beyond sick of finding out that my old friends are still connected with my biological mother after she abused and neglected me and allowed her son to sexually abuse me for years.

My first friend that I ever had was Shane. He recently passed away and so even though I've cut all ties with everyone from my old life, I've reached out to old friends to try to find out what happened to him. Upon doing this, I discovered that not only is one of my old friends keeping consistent contact with Darlene, but apparently Darlene is still in contact with Shane's family. I felt that I couldn't even reach out to Shane's family as Darlene is a manipulator and chances are that she's lied to them about me for years. (more on this later)

This woman refused to work to provide for her children. This woman let us live without heat or running water. This woman didn't believe me when I told her that her son was sexually abusing me, and then she just pretended that it never happened. Meanwhile it continued to happen.

I am so sick of this woman getting away with the awful things that she did and getting to have relationships with my nieces and nephews and old friends. So I'm gonna talk about it because that's the only power I have here.

Darlene Ruth Stark is a monster. Darlene Stark of Sister Lakes, Michigan physically and emotionally abused me. She also neglected me by not providing a habitable home to live in and she neglected my medical issues that have now developed into lifelong issues.

Darlene Stark who lives on Cable Lakeview Dr in Dowagiac, Michigan allowed her eldest son Tim Stark to molest me over a period of a couple years. She should have kept him away from me, she should have protected me, but she didn't want to accept the reality that her parenting created a monster, and I suffered as a result.

In fact, I continue to suffer every single day. Anxiety, depression, PTSD. Trust issues, inability to ask for help, feeling like a constant burden. I can't stand the feeling of feathers touching my skin because that's how the sexual abuse started. Now when I feel the softness of a feather, I recoil and suddenly I feel like I'm back there in that decrepit bedroom.

Tim was a jokester and loved to play pranks. So when I woke up to him tickling my face with a feather which was a prank he often did in an attempt to get me to hit myself in the face, I played along and acted like I was asleep and would hit myself in the face.

And then it turned sinister. He truly believed that I was asleep so he began to touch me inappropriately. I didn't understand. I was terrified. I thought I did something wrong. I thought that I was doing something wrong by allowing it happen. I was afraid if I showed him that I was actually awake that he would hurt me to keep me quiet. I was frozen and I just hoped it would end.

This happened a few times before I found the courage to tell my "friends" Brittany Smith, Paige Schaus and Rebecca Luth. They encouraged me to tell my mother. She didn't believe me until Tim admitted that it was true. Then she guilt tripped me into not telling the cops. I can still see her sitting in front of me and hear her words perfectly to this day: "We can file a police report but just know that it will ruin his life. He will lose his 1 month old daughter. Do you think you can live with that?"

That was too much for a severely abused 12 year old to take. I just wanted to pretend it didn't happen. And for the first time in my life, I genuinely wanted to die.

All of this aside, everyone knew that we were dirt poor. Everyone knew that my mother was constantly unemployed because she outright refused to work. All of the neighbors and friend's parents who knew that I was being neglected and didn't call CPS, shame on you. Even Shane's family knew. I'm so grateful that they would feed me and that Shane's father taught me how to ride a bike, but still I wonder what my life would be like if they would have done the right thing and gotten me out of that awful situation.

But there is something that you can do now: cut ties with Darlene Stark. Tell her why you refuse to speak to her. Remind her what she did to her daughter. It's time that she faces the consequences of her actions. If it was your daughter, you would have done everything to protect her, wouldn't you?

[xxmolls]

In my living room …

The painting was done by a family friend. It’s very special to me (in addition to being created by someone I love) because it depicts the view from a house owned by the sister of the woman with early onset Alzheimer’s who I’ve been hanging out with, playing guitar for, cooking for, and growing close to

The lamp is from our family friend who was downsizing / moving. I think she gave it to me for $10?! I love the mint green

Taxidermy butterfly + Sun tarot card from Etsy (one of my splurges)

Painting of Colorado by my Mama, based on a photo that my friend from freshman year of college took and put on her nature photos insta that my mom loves looking at (pro -tip: live in a fine arts dorm. Befriend artists and photojournalists and musicians. Next step: world domination).

Cute lil fake gold porcelain Knick nack was a prize I received from my mean strict as hell piano teacher when I was a kid for memorizing the most pieces of all her students. Her daughter apparently brought it back from Japan. Umm kinda gross but I used to keep all my baby teeth in there. Friends would see it in my room and go “oh this is so cute!!! What do you put in here-“ *opens up and physically recoils in horror* “WTF, ARE THESE YOUR TEETH I HOPE?!?” (No they are all my victims’)

Glassybaby candle votive a gift from a family friend from when I finally finished my college degree … I have a kind of turquoise theme throughout my apartment, especially in my kitchen

(Thank you for indulging me with showing y’all the random shit in my apartment. This is the first place I’ve had to myself in… my entire life)

[inkrabbit]

Can I get papa 3 and 4 comfort a gn reader who’s had a horrible day where nothing has gone right? Like they’ve gotten hurt they are stressed and things just aren’t going as planed for them?

You’re just over today and you’re sure it’s showing on your face. You knew you should’ve just stayed in bed.

One of the sisters had bumped into you as she rushed by, not even stopping to help you pick up all of the documents you had dropped that needed to be delivered to Secondo. This pushed you to be late, something that had upset the middle Emeritus. You had never run out of an office so fast in your life, the man screaming at you in such fast Italian that you could barely catch anything he said.

Sister Imperator had tasked you to give the latest sacrifice to the ghouls as well, saying she trusted that you had a good enough connection with them. In a way, you did. They didn’t pose any threat to you and had actually behaved as you gave them their food, save for Sodo getting a bit snippy when he felt you took too long. Ghouls didn’t have to be fed often, but it always made your skin prickle with paranoia anytime you were the one who had to feed them. But when it came to Nihil’s ghouls, your luck had run out. Neptune had been the first one to act out a bit, having splashed water at you when you called out to him in the pond, catching him by surprise. The real winner, however, had been Ares, who already started snarling at you when you had entered his sight, his teeth bared. He had swiped at you when you got too close for his liking, his claw cutting the side of your hand, making you recoil sharply and cradle it. You left shortly after that, narrowly missing another swipe from him.

The cut you had received wasn’t too deep. You didn’t need stitches, but the nurse did patch you right up. You wanted to knock her teeth out when she advised you stayed away from the ghouls, saying it like it had been common sense. Like you had a choice this time. Still, you left the infirmary without another word, knowing it would’ve been a string of insults had you opened your mouth. You just hoped Sister Imperator appreciated your hard work.

By the time your day had come to an end, you were both mentally and physically exhausted. All you wanted was to just go back to your Papa and feel his arms wrap around you; hear him whisper those sweet words in your ear that would make everything better.

Copia:

You catch Copia through the gardens just as the sun is setting. He gives you that sweet smile that you’ve gotten so used to, opening his arms to you.

“Amore!” he greets, pulling you into a tight hug and kissing your head. “How has your day been, my little mouse? I trust it was good?”

“It… could’ve been better.” His face falls as he looks down at you.

“What hap-” He finally sees your bandaged hand, that once joyful look turning to worry. “Oh, my love. What’s happened to you?”

“It’s… just been a day.” You give him a strained smile but he’s not having it. He brings you over to a nearby bench, the two of you sitting beside each other. “One of Nihil’s ghouls got me. Nothing too deep.”

“Quelle cose orribili,” he mutters, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “You should’ve sought me out sooner, amore.”

“It’s not that big of a deal, my love.”

“It is to me. You got hurt.”

“I promise you, I’m fine.” You bring a hand up to cup his cheek. “I feel better already now that I’m with you.”

“If you say so, amore.” A calm silence washes over you two as you get closer to him. His arm wraps around your shoulders, tugging you against his chest. He presses a gentle kiss to your temple, his hand rubbing your upper arm.

“It’s nice out here,” you comment softly, hearing him hum in agreement. “Really pretty.”

“I can think of something that’s even prettier,” he tells you. When you turn to hold his gaze, brows raised as you patiently wait, he leans in and kisses the tip of your nose. “You!”

You can’t help but laugh, playfully slapping his chest. All of the stress of the day was slowly melting away, especially when he pulled you in for a gentle kiss on the lips. You run your hand through his hair, hearing that soft, content sigh he breathes out through his nose.

“My love, I’m meant to be making you happy,” he laughs when you pull back.

“You do make me happy.” Another peck to his lips. “Just being with you always brightens my day.”

“It’s good to know that the feelings are mutual, amore.”

Terzo:

Pushing open the door to his room, you see how the bed is decorated in rose petals, candles lit around the room.

“Terzo?” you call out. Soft music is playing, setting that romantic tone. You walk further into the bedroom, looking around for him.

“Ah! There you are, my sweet.” He finally enters the room, carrying a bottle of wine and two glasses. “I’m sorry. I was going to surprise you, but I forgot this.”

“What’s all this about?” You walk forward, meeting him halfway for a gentle kiss.

“I heard what happened.” He hooks his arm around the wine bottle, holding it securely as he brings your injured hand up, kissing your knuckles. “Omega told me. He heard what happened.”

“And you decided to do all this?”

“Of course! Nothing but the best for you!” And he’s giving you that bright, charming grin. “Now, come, come! Let us relax!”

He leads you over to the bed, still holding your hand and only letting go when you settle down on top. He hands you one of the glasses, popping the cork off of the bottle and pouring some into your glass. He then pours himself some, setting the bottle on the bedside table before crawling into bed with you.

“Would you like to talk about everything, amore?” he asks, taking a sip.

“You know how it is,” you respond. “It’s just one of those days where everything that could go wrong just does.”

“Ah, sì.” He nods. “I’ve been on that end many times before.” His eyes flicker to your hand. “But I can’t say I’ve had the misfortune of being attacked before.”

“I’m just glad it wasn’t worse.” You both had heard the horror stories. Terzo gives you a soft kiss.

“I don’t know what I would’ve done had it been worse, amore,” he tells you softly. “You are my everything, you know? I’d be lost without you.”

“And I’d be lost without you, Terzo.” You give him a smile, one that he matches. The next kiss he drags you into is longer and just a little more heated.

Yeah. Being here with him made you feel a whole lot better.

[the-apprentice-lia]

Hey! I saw that you do headcanons as well? Sorry if I’m asking in the right place but I loved your post on Asra’s hurt!! Could you possibly do the “mc getting slapped by the m6” ask please? My angsty little heart needs foodddd

hiii!! i’m so glad you liked my post:)) don’t worry, i’ll do my best to not cry when i’m writing this although it probably won’t work

i just wanna say that under no circumstances is it okay to hurt your partner!! please don’t take this post the wrong way:)

the main 6 slapping mc

asra

• it probably started because of how much he keeps from you. you know it’s just because he doesn’t want to see you hurt or unhappy because of how much of your life you’ve lost to your premature death, but it’s still so infuriating. you’re not a child, and you tell him as much.

• as much as you love each other, arguments can get messy. you know so much about each other that it’s difficult not to go for the soft parts in an argument, and you just snap.

• they’re probably running his hands through his hair, tears of frustration and pent up feelings slipping down his cheeks and catching the light of the many candles around the shop, making them glister strangely beneath the low light.

• “asra, you’re being ridiculous. how in the arcana am i supposed to know about who i was if you won’t fucking tell me?” you shout at them, crystals and glass bottles clinking together on the shelves.

• asra breaks, finally raising his voice as well, telling you that you’re acting like a child. you feel a twisted feeling of satisfaction at his loss of control. at least they’re actually treating you like a person— but you’re still so frustrated.’why can’t he just see that you’re not a china doll, easily broken and delicately made?

•you’re screaming now, tears blurring your vision. all you see is red. “if i’m acting like such a child then why did you even bother bringing me back? you should have just fucking left me to rot beneath the lazaret if you won’t so much as—” you’re cut off with a sharp crack.

• asra’s stronger than they look, and he wasn’t thinking as he lashed out in anger and pain, so you probably stumble back into the shelves behind you, or onto the counter of the shop.

• you touch your hand to your hot cheek with a dull feeling of surprise. it’s as if everything is through a haze, your gaze flickering up to meet asra’s horrified one as you take a step back, a dry sob heaving through your chest as your knees give out and you sink to the floor.

• “mc, i’m so sorry, i can’t— i don’t— please. i’m so sorry,” he stumbles over his words as he crouches before you, giving you enough space that you could easily leave. you don’t, and he breathes out slowly as they reach towards you and gently, heartbreakingly softly, cups your face to turn it towards him. he inhales sharply as he takes in your bruised cheekbone, red already beginning to spread outwards in the shape of his hand, and he flinches to see that he’s hurt you, his beloved apprentice.

• he opens his arms slowly, hesitantly, and you sink into them, burying your face in his scarves and then drawing back slightly with a faint hiss as your cheek touches the fabric, and he lets out a sob as well, burying his face in your sweet-smelling hair. murmurs “i’m sorry, i’m so sorry,” into you over and over again, rocking you back and forth on the floor of the shop.

• he’ll hurt for weeks after, even after the bruise fades, he’ll simply refuse to touch you for days after the incident. whispers “but what if i hurt you,” his voice breaking at the mere thought of it, and you cradle him to you, stroking his cheek as he shakes.

nadia

• the argument was probably about her refusing to ask for help. she’s been alone for so long that the refusal simply comes naturally. she has to prove that she can be successful alone, that she can make something of herself without anyone.

• at first, you tell her gently that she can trust you, that you’re always here for her, and that she doesn’t have to do this alone— but she doesn’t want to hear it, telling you insistently that she doesn’t need any help.

• “your dark circles would say otherwise, nadi! you can’t keep going on like this!” you tell her, your voice strained as you lay a hand on her arm. you just want to help her, but she won’t listen to you. “i can do it myself,” she tells you coldly, pulling away from you and turning back to her work. “i don’t need your help. i never have.”

• you feel the hurt blossom in your chest, but you try to push it down as you close her books, smudging the ink on a document by mistake. “nadi, please.” you tell her, but she doesn’t even seem to hear you as she opens her books and sets her jaw, looking at the ruined document. you bite your lip in dismay and go to apologise, but she cuts in before you get the chance. “you ruin everything. you’re such a nuisance, can you not find anything better to do with your time than to bother me? i am the countess of vesuvia, and i don’t need your help.” she’s shouting by the end of her outburst, and you recoil, hurt now showing across your face— but it’s quickly replaced by anger.

• you laugh disbelievingly, your voice spiteful and pained as you speak. “you don’t need my help? well that’s certainly a different tune than the one you were singing when you came to me in the middle of the night, asking for my help. and even then i gave it unbegrudgingly. you’re so stubborn, nadia! you’re so ridiculously naïve that you can’t even see that not everybody’s against you. so your sisters acted like every older sibling the world over, and excluded you from a few games. you carry grudges as if the world’s out to get you and nobody seeks to help you. you’re such a child! why—” your screaming cuts off at the sharp crack.

• you cry out at the sudden flare of pain. nadia’s also a lot stronger than she looks— i mean, she’s a master sword-fighter. and so, you stumble backwards into the marble table opposite her desk, turning away from her to catch your breath, your figure shaking with quiet sobs. everything seems to fall away, and you hold your arms around yourself in a poor attempt to keep your paroxysms of sobs quiet.

• nadia is completely silent. the jarring force snapped her out of whatever tired grumpiness she had been wallowing in, and now she’s just looking at her hands, a look of absolute horror twisting her features as she takes in the hand, resting palm-down on her knees, that she used to— to— she can’t even think about it. she has betrayed your trust, used your relationship, built on a foundation of love and mutual respect, to hurt you. it’s as if she’s seeing the world through a haze of disbelief. she’s taken advantage of your love for her, she’s physically violated you, and the thought of that leaves her physically ill. hot tears drop steadily into her lap, as she turns her hands over, and her eyes widen even more, if possible, with horror. blood glisters thickly on her index finger, coating the closest section to her palm where a golden ring sits. the countess of vesuvia never takes her rings off during the day, and she’s snapped out of her daze by the quiet hiss that comes from where you stand.

•when the first tears stream down your face, you hiss at the sharp pain, touching your fingers gently to your face and wincing as they come into contact with… is that a wound? you stare at them as they come away a deep, garnetine red. your hair is sticking to the blood running down your face from the wound. you sob dryly as the pain sets in, and by the gods it stings. it seems that even the air twists into your opened skin, burning sharply. you’re so lost in the mist of disbelief you barely notice when nadia comes up behind you.

• “my love?” her voice comes, softly, and you stiffen as she lays a hand on your upper arm. she withdraws it quickly as her voice breaks. “please, mc. say anything. look at me, i beg of you.” you don’t say anything for a minute before you inhale softly and turn to her.

• something in nadia breaks. she lifts shaking fingers up to her mouth as your eyes meet hers, and she takes in what she’s done to you. she’s sliced your upper-cheek open from just short of the bridge of your nose to almost the edge of your face. and the cut is deep. bruising spreads around it, in the shape of her hand, and she lets out a sob before dropping to her knees, taking your hand in hers. “by the arcana, mc, i am so, so sorry— i don’t know— i can’t— please, my love, i am so sorry,” she presses her forehead to your hand before you start to cry, sinking to your knees as well and burying your face in your hands, your shoulders shaking. you hiss softly as you draw your hand away and it comes away a glistening, wine-dark red.

• you flinch away from her as she comes to envelop you in a hug. “don’t. please,” you say softly, pulling yourself away from her. you leave bloodstains on the floor. her eyes hold inexplicable sorrow and remorse in them, as she nods haltingly, her heart breaking as she realises— you’re… afraid of her. later, she’ll bury her head into her pillow and sob her heart out but for now, she needs you to know to not be afraid of her. she loves you, you know that— and you need to know she’ll never violate the trust you put in her again.

• “mc… please. i’m so, so inexplicably sorry for what i’ve done to you. i promise it will never happen again.” her voice is soft, and she speaks to you as if you’re a wounded deer she’s found in the palace gardens, her voice breaking as she lets you see that she’s approaching you, her arms in front of her as she holds them out softly when she’s quite close to you.

• you look at her, meet her eyes with yours, and slowly settle into her embrace as she lets out a quiet sob of relief, burying her head in your hair. you pull away with a quiet gasp of pain when her hair meets your wound, and she cups your face (your good side) softly, stroking your cheek with her thumb as you close your eyes and she moves closer to you, giving you the time to pull away before her lips meet your forehead and she kisses you there gently before pressing one just above your cut and pulling you back to her, minding your cheek. you cry softly into her chest, and she does so into your hair. the two of you stay there until the blood starts to dry on your cheek and she stands, helping you up.

• “i’m taking you to the infirmary, dearest one.” “but… nadia.” you gesture to the state you’re in with a raised eyebrow. blood stains your collar and had dripped down your cheek in steady rivulets— and now your entire cheek is coated in blood. the cut itself is deep and thorough, splitting the skin so that the flesh beneath is easily visible, and the black, blue, and red flesh around your cut in the shape of nadia’s hand is enough that there is no room to doubt how your injury happened. “i’m your partner. there’s nobody else that would have done this— your entire court will know.” you look at her gently. “i can hide this.”

• and yet again, nadia’s heart is absolutely crushed. broken. shattered. “my heart, you should not have to hide what i have done. we’re going to the infirmary.”

• the entire way there, nadia weathers the stares and whispers with, for once, a bent head. you tighten your fingers around her hand— you know how important the favour of the court is. when you finally arrive, and you have to explain, haltingly, how you were injured, nadia gets a few looks of unbridled disgust as your injuries are treated. you squeeze her hand every now and again, and she looks at you gratefully. her eyes darken as you bite your lip roughly when the antiseptic meets it, your eyes watering as she strokes your hand, never taking her eyes away from you.

• afterwards, will absolutely doubt herself as a leader and a partner. no matter if you forgive her, no matter that the bruise fades and the wound heals, she’ll still always linger on your scar when she’s kissing your face, she’ll still murmur “i’m sorry, i’m so sorry, darling,” into your hair for months after.

• if anyone is so much as even vaguely disdainful towards you with respects to your scar, you’ll literally have to talk her down from having them thrown out/arrested. you forgive her, and she loves you with all of her— but when dark feelings surface now there’s absolutely nothing you can do that will even get a shadow of a rise out of her. is just calm and collected. never so much as raises her voice at you.

• will 100% look at you as you sleep and hate herself for harming you in any way.

hope you enjoyed the angst fest!! these were so long— but i’ll do the next four periodically:)

[swiftstigmata]

ok wait what’s your hot take on r*ta o*a being good for him! i have heard ppl say she’s hella problematic but i don’t know specifically why ?? hit us w ur thoughts pls

I'm putting this under a readmore because I absolutely refuse to force people to read r*ta o*a discourse against their will. but the tl;dr version of this is: yes, she's an insufferable person. yes, I think he's happy with her. yes, I have recently become very parasocial. yes, this is embarrassing.

Firstly tbh I think 'problematic' is a rough term, but in short, yeah, rita (we're on a first name basis now apparently) has a long history of career success based on blackfishing. She also broke lockdown rules in Nov 2020 by paying a restaurant £5k not to report her so she could have her 30th birthday (lol. except it's not funny is it it's serious). People also find her general career annoying but honestly I don't think there's anything wrong with doing whatever you can to be in front of the camera because, like, that's her job, so let's set that aside.

I unfortunately was susceptible to the Rita Ora propaganda when this interview came out in the Independent and started to kinda...like her. In the way you like your friend's messy cousin whose drama brings joy into your life. It helps that I am obsessed with her sister Elena, who seems to be her manager, handler, PR, publicist, and best friend all wrapped into one and is literally doing that better than like...the entirety of the Marvel team. "Why is Rita Ora here what is she even famous for" IT WAS ELENA. I would also bet money it was Elena who organised the damage control Independent interview and honestly, props. Excellent mopping up after the Covid fiasco. I want to study her in a lab etc.

It really confused people when Taika and Rita started dating (late Feb 2021, if you want to know the timeline so you don't have to be crazy like me and investigate it), but my hot take is actually that this is totally unsurprising and makes sense wrt what we know about both of them & their personal lives. Now THIS is when it gets really parasocial. You asked.

They have a similar group of friends - they were friends for 4 years before "complicating things" (absolutely deranged way of putting it, Taika, thank you) - and a lot of overlapping circles. They're both loud and ambitious with a tendency to overcompensate for nerves by just getting louder and more annoying, they're both party people who drink and dance and [redacted redacted]. Taika had just gone through his (now officially self-confessed! everyone say thank you Lie Detector video) 2018-2020 mid-life crisis and was filming Love & Thunder. CRUCIALLY, they had similar childhood experiences based around culture shock and forced assimilation - if you're reading this you probs know about Taika's experiences, but the tldr of the Oras is that they fled Former Yugoslavia just before the war and moved to London. Both Elena and Rita (first name basis here is killing meeee btw) have talked about the difficulty they had in adjusting (though Rita was just a baby). The Ora management team and inner circle still to this day consists mostly of the children of fellow refugees who moved to London at the same time and are childhood friends of the sisters. Elena stepped into the management role at 18 because their parents didn't have a good enough grasp of English to keep Rita safe in the industry. SO: broadly familiar childhood experiences on both sides, plus a tendency to keep close to friends and people you trust, etc etc.

In terms of them being good together - I literally don't know these people, obviously, I've just been obsessed for two months so I have a disturbing amount of knowledge in terms of what they choose to show us. In short: they seem happy. They seem to want to do similar things - go to shows, be papped, go to parties, get shit-faced, travel, and be domestic. There's this recent picture from the Dior show where she looks so happy it made me physically recoil from the screen.

Rita also talks in the Elena Propaganda Coup interview about how she has been in consistent therapy since she was fifteen because of crippling anxiety and panic attacks, and Taika recently mentioned in the Wired Autocomplete interview that he's now in therapy ("Who is Taika Waititi? Ask my therapist, that's what we're trying to figure out." [everyone who has watched Boy 2010 breathes a sigh of relief]).

FINALLY FINALLY the recent hyperspecific leak to the Mail and the Sun (not linking because I refuse to give them clicks but..) about their probable engagement and low-key wedding reads very much to me like a strategic planting - either because they knew the story was about to leak and wanted to get ahead of the story, or because they were throwing the press a bone in the hopes that they'd be left alone for the actual wedding. ELENA STRIKES AGAIN. The fact that the Mail keeps referring to Taika as "Rita Ora's fiance" (scream....so funny on so many levels) without either team issuing a denial is half a confirmation. Taika did fully dodge the question on This Morning which made me yell bc fuck Philip Schofield but is also NOT A DENIAL. Either way the idea that they're having a tiny wedding at some point in the near future without wanting it on social media spells happiness to me (not that having a big wedding means you aren't in love. then again this is a post about rita ora I'm cancelled already). Rita obviously wants kids and a big family and everything that entails so this was a fairly predictable move for them (predictable if you are me and Zoe @wolfhalls who seem to be psychic when it comes to Rita/Taika moves. What a useless skill). I just think it's cute I guess.

BUT TO SUM UP. Yes she is insufferable. Yes she's definitely privileged and ignorant. Yes the COVID thing was absolutely stupid and feels like a hugely coked up impulsive move to me. But also yes I think the hate she gets online is totally disproportionate and mostly driven by neckbeard men on reddit and whoever the fuck it is who comments on Deuxmoi, and I also think Taika is an insufferable person too so they match! Kidding I luv him. but also. Tune in next time for the great 2016-2018 PA Scandal Timeline. (KIDDING. I will not be doing that. But you get the point). The Rita that exists in my head is my best pal the girls who get it get it the girls who gornt...gornt. Thanks for reading.

[kaijurakunsobs]

If requests are open could you do a Heisenberg fic with a teen or young adult reader(no older than 20 please) who stumbles into the village trying to get away from their parents and after they get attacked by Lycans Heisenberg patches them up and takes them in trying to hide them from his sister and mother miranda. Could you please do it with an AFAB reader who doesn’t identify as female? I am currently dealing with borderline verbal abuse from my conservative father who doesnt like that though I am AFAB I don’t identify as female.

first, baby, I'm so sorry that this is happening to you. I know how bad and mentally taxing that kind of living situation can get, I was in a similar situation and somehow managed to pull through.

you are not alone, you are loved and I hope everything gets better, never forget that it's you who defines yourself, your self worth should NEVER be defined by others

All you can think is...how cold everything is around you, how the freezing air burns your skin and lungs, but, you have endured something worst, physical pain can be healed with time, emotional and psychological pain is what hurts the most, what feels eternal and haunting, it coils around you, it grows and never let's go, like being branded, it leaves marks that never go away.

Running aimlessly through the snow feels like nothing.

What made you get out of the car?

Was it anger?

Desperation?

Does that even matter anymore?

You can't hear their voices anymore, so that's a win.

Farther away you see smoke and fain lights, distant sounds beckoning you closer to that place, and you let yourself smile widely when the silhouette of someone standing so close to you, you could get help, start somewhere new, be happy!

But it's so short-lived, that you question if there's divine retribution, karma, or just the universe laughing in your face.

Your "savior" is covered in blood, a man with a perpetual expression of agony lays in the snow, dead. The monster turns to you and finally the cold freezes you where you stand, it's not alone, and all the other creatures are looking at you, dark soulless eyes fixated on their new prey.

You have felt like that before under his gaze like if you were vermin, it made you furious how you were treated and consider as something lesser than a person. These things look at you the same like you are just a speck of dust in their path, and maybe you are, if the mangled body is any indication that taking a life will be nothing for them.

You see it from the corner of your eye, one of them lunges for you, and then? everything is a blur.

You remember kicking and punching wildly, adrenaline making you forget about the pain of the bites and scratches, there are memories of you running and using something to smash the head of one of the monsters, a rock, perhaps? But in the end, cold, blood loss, and exhaustion are enough to bring you to your knees. One of them grabs a fistful of hair and roars in your face and you know, that, this is it, you fought and did your best, but this is the end of your travesty...so much for your new life of freedom.

"Get the fuck away...I SAID FUCK OFF!" his voice is so loud that it makes you whimper and recoil "LET GO, CAN'T YOU HEAR ME? LET GO, DAMN IT!" the smell of blood and a warm liquid hits you hard, but at least you are free, letting your body hit the snow

"What do we have here?...this one is alive, but ya ain't from around here, do you?" he's smoking and something small and silly wants you to tell him that smoking is bad, which makes you smile so softly "...Interesting"

Heisenberg rarely gets intrigued by anything, he hasn't found anything to spark his curiosity in so long, so of course, he had to come and see what was causing such a commotion. What he thought to be a villager, fist fighting the lycans so valiantly, turned out to be a teenager, he saw you from afar,  furiously kicking lycan after lycan, you didn't even notice the growing red spots in your clothes and the black eye, it was survival and feral like behavior. Truly interesting.

Now, what made him pick you up with care? years from today he will say it was just "Scientific interest kiddo! nothing more", but, it's the pain in your face that makes him act so soft, it's not the agony brought by your wounds, this goes deeper, it's different and he knows it very well.

Under normal circumstances, he would have taken you to Moreau, but he knows the loud mouth will give you to that bitch Miranda and that will be it for you. Dimitrescu is OUT of the equation, so does Beneviento, hell knows what her psychotic ass would do to you. So he brings you back to his home and takes time to clean your wounds, true, his stitching abilities are amazing...on corpses, and a lack of anesthesia and your occasional movements makes it hard for him to stitch you properly, but by the end of everything, you are bandaged and clean, isn't that the important part?

He’s done his part, the rest is on you. If you had the strength to fight and even kill a lycan, you might live to see another day

How long were you out?

You are warm and so fucking sore, cracking your eyes open is a big task and even harder to sit up in the bed you are laying on. The room is black and smells like tobacco, oil, and something you can’t place but it’s nice.

Barefoot and curious you start to get up, wincing deep and loud when pain floods your body, but you get up non-less, you feel the cold air hit your legs, and immediately pull down the shirt to cover yourself. Then it fully clicks, the jagged memories of what happened slaps you in the face and make you lose your footing, falling back on the bed you pry the shirt off from your body, you see bandages and patches placed on smaller wounds, your head is killing you and your right eye hurts like crazy.

With small breathes you pull the shirt back on and force your body to get up and investigate the room. There are piles of clothes and pieces of paper everywhere, picking one of the pants you sigh, these are yours, but they have been destroyed either by the beasts or by however brought you here. Looking around there’s nothing more, time to go out.

The only door leads you to an open room, the kitchen and living room placed together, in one of the sofas you can see someone laying down, their chest rising and falling softly, their face obscured by an old hat.

You try to be as quiet and sneaky as possible when getting back into the room “Where do you think you are going, kid?” his voice is thick with sleep but the sound is enough to make you yelp, slamming your shoulder against the door frame, the man jumps up and in a couple of strides he’s beside you “Can you more fucking careful? the stitches gonna get open and if you get an infection I ain’t risking my neck to get you meds”

He’s a bit taller than you with squared and wide shoulders, his face is stern and it seems like he’s annoyed about something, is it you? Did you anger him? You try to remember what could you have done to make him so mad but nothing comes to you, is not like you remember much, and what you do, is better to be left forgotten.

Heisenberg has seen many people look at him with fear, reverence even, but he has never been in the receiving end of a look like yours, he has to close his eyes for a second, carefully grabbing your wrist and dragging you to the kitchen, almost forcing you to take a seat in on of the wobbly chairs he owns.

“Well now that you are back with us, I can finally cook something to eat. You must be starving! I would too after the way you fought back there” he lets out a howl while he busies himself with pulling ingredients for whatever he’s cooking “I saw ya, you know? That was one hell of a show and I know about putting up good entertainment, you gave those lycans a good beating”

Lycans? So those things have names...uuuh, who would have thought.

"What's your name kid?" you get pulled out of your mind by his voice and the smell of cooking eggs, for a moment you wonder and think, that this is the time to be addressed by YOUR name "...I'm Y/N, sir"

"Cut the sir bullshit, you ain't trying to impress nobody here, you can call me Heisenberg, Karl if you wanna get my attention quickly, got it?"

"Yes...Heisenberg?"

He's rather harsh from what little you have seen of him, but he's careful when serving you breakfast, a steady hand serves you tea and makes quick work of a loaf of bread, whit that you two eat in relative silence, he eats like a wolf and that's enough to make you hide a smile.

"Once you are...better..." he's speaking between bites, eew "I'm taking you to get some new clothes, staying here ain't gonna be free, ok?" with his fork pointing at you he waits and continues without you answering "I'll have to teach you...that's gonna take time..."

"I'm a faster learner!"

Heisenberg laughs at the offended tone in your voice, taking a big gulp from his mug once he stops "I like ya kid, there's a fire in you and I respect that, we gonna get along"

It takes you almost 2 weeks to fully recover and be able to move without crying out in pain. On the day he announces that he must take off your stitches, he's kind when pulling on the thread, talking about how that same day he's taking you to the seamstress cuz he's "done" having you wear his stuff.

The seamstress in the Village seems flabbergasted when "Lord Heisenberg" comes into her house, demanding she makes you good sturdy pants and easy to move in shirts. From that sole visit is enough for people to call you "Heisenberg's assistant" whenever you are sent to the village or just went spotted by anyone. The Duke, the merchant that sometimes you have found yourself talking to, does nothing but fuel the rumor, people already fear Heisenberg on a god day, now they fear you might be spying for him.

You would be lying by saying that, Heisenberg is a normal man, he's flamboyant and loud, filled with pride, and what you can describe as...showmanship, he speaks with passion when explaining to you the ins and outs of the factory. He's always close, never breathing down your neck, just close enough to hear if you need help.

The first time you see him use his gift is the most embarrassing and awkward moment of your life.

You are working on some molds for pieces he needs to make from scratch, he taught you where you should work on that, away from whatever lurks in the lower areas of the factory. You were so engrossed in getting the mold out perfectly, tongue sticking out and heavy gloves helping you to pry open the damn thing open, you don't even jump when a hand lands on your shoulder, but you do when the ghoulish face of a corpse appears beside you.

He's running the second he hears you, a high pitched sound tearing through the noise of the machinery, he sees you bolting it towards him and a Zwei Soldat quickly catching up with you, the drill in its arm too close to your back, the moment you are close enough he pulls you towards and behind him, a metal sheet flying to the thing and beheading it in an instant.

"Kid...Kid, look at me, hey, eyes on me" you are not crying, there's no blood anywhere and nothing seems to be missing, you seem more startled than anything else, but you listen to him, concentrated on him and his voice "Y/N, it's ok kid, I'm here"

Then it happens, you let it slip. "Thanks...thanks dad"

You feel him go tense, the hands-on your shoulders shake for a second and embarrassment comes crashing down on you, you are ready for him to yell or push you away and order you to see if the mold is still useful, but he pulls you close, patting your back like you never said anything.

There are days when you can hear him talking on the phone, his voice growing irritated, and his explosive temper getting worst.

You are curled up in the crawlspace that he turned into your room, listening to him talking with someone, he sounds exasperated and nervous. This time he takes longer to come out from his room, a new cigar in his mouth and hammer over his shoulder, usually, he would tell you that he's leaving for a couple of hours, this time he's just there, tapping his foot and sparing quick glances at you.

"Get your coat, we need to leave"

That's new...he never takes you with him to wherever he goes, but you don't feel like arguing and do as he says, slipping your boots on and grabbing your coat.

Heisenberg is unusually quiet this time, only the snow crunching under your feet make enough sound to fill in the void, he takes you farther from the village and into a rundown church, you can hear new voices and the unforgettable sounds of the lycans snarling.

Inside the candlelight is soft and cast strange shadows of the people already waiting inside. There's a woman in a white dress that probably towers over you, another lady dressed in black and her covered, she sits in a corner with a creepy doll on her lap, and finally, a shy man who battles to cover himself with the torn cloth of his jacket.

"Is this why mother Miranda called us? Did you brought a new toy and never informed her? what a bad dog you are Heisenberg"

"Non of your business, Dimitrescu" Karl does everything to keep you behind him, away from the doll or the twisted man, but especially from the woman, Dimitrescu as he called her.

From where you stood, you could see how beautiful and regal she is, sitting with grace and a sarcastic smile plastered on her face. Noticing you, she moved slightly to get a better look, narrowing her eyes, making you feel small and like food. Before she can't even speak the sound of feathers caught your attention, giving Karl enough time to guide you to one of the pews, making you take a seat beside him.

The four adults greeted the new woman, the infamous mother Miranda, you have heard about her in the village and through small stories shared by the Duke, but mostly, you have heard Heisenberg curse the woman and call her every single name under the sun.

"Usually I wouldn't care for what my children do in their dominions, but, Karl, I must say I'm disappointed in you...to hide this child and avoid telling us?"

"I apologize, Miranda, the right opportunity never came" ooooh he's pissed

"I say you take his toy, Mother Miranda, and if possible, give me that lovely lady to me?" at that your gut twist uncomfortably, it's been some time since you were...addressed like that

"Excuse me?" Heisenberg cocks his head to the side, looking at Dimitrescu over his shades "Are you talking about my SON?"

"YOUR SON?! Don't make laugh, child, I can smell the sweet maiden blood running through her veins, that's a lady not one of your dirty lycans"

"And you are bitch no matter how well you dress!"

"ENOUGH!" Miranda's voice breaks them apart, everyone looking at her "Care to elaborate, Heisenberg?"

Karl takes a second to take a drag from his cigar and blow a cloud of some into the air "I found Y/N here, they fought hard to survive and I took them in, just like Alcina, and her lovely daughters...I decided it was my time to have a child of my own"

"That doesn't change the fact that you brought an outsider and didn't inform mother, and now you are trying to do what exactly? have...them...play house with you?"

"Lady Dimitrescu, that's enough" she's looking at you, mother Miranda in staring, and Heisenberg as a hand on your back, suddenly you are hyper-aware of everything, the sounds and smells, the movements each person in the room does, the way the candles flicker "I allow it, may this never happen again, Heisenberg. Next time there will be consequences"

You feel like passing out after that, the screams of Dimitrescu and the doll get drown by the ringing in your ears, everything keeping you together is Heisenberg's hand on yours cursing up a storm as he pulls you along with him.

The cold air feeling nice against your burning skin.

"Kid? I think you are ready" you are halfway through the trek back to the factory when he speaks again

"Ready for what?"

"To be introduced to the Heisenberg family true work, of course! What kind of father I would be if I don't involve you in our family's business"

You trip with your feet hearing him say that, so...he meant it? what he said in the church...that you are his son?

"Come on Y/N, I won't go easy on you because you are my kid now, quick quick"

Catching up to him is easy and you feel at peace when one of his arms wraps around you, he begins to talk about how many things he's gonna teach you and how exciting is to have a young mind to shape.

For the first time, you are eager to get back home.

[whatisthiswritingthing]

Keep it a Secret - Part Two - Kristie Mewis x Reader

Sequel to Keep it a Secret 

The next morning the Kristie woke up with Y/N in her arms, she smiled, settling back down to enjoy the last couple minutes before their alarm would go off. Y/N had moved herself as close as possible in her sleep, both hands coiled tightly in Kristies shirt, head resting on her chest. It was the same position they had fallen asleep in; they hadn’t shifted the entire night somehow. Both knowing the other needed the physical contact in their unconscious state.

Kristie began to apply pressure to Y/N’s shoulders, encouraging her to slowly wake up. Y/N groaned and turned her head to nestle her nose in closer to Kristies neck.

“Time to wake up gorgeous,” Kristie leaned down, brushing her lips against Y/N’s ears, placing a delicate kiss to the tip. Y/N smiled, nestling closer. “I know you’re awake goof,” this time biting the ear.

Y/N giggled, biting Kristies neck. Hands loosening on the shirt, shifting her weight, and pressing herself up to stare in the blondes eyes, “thank you,” she whispered leaning down to kiss her.

Kristie slowly opened her eyes, a soft smile on her face, “for what?” she whispered back just as softly, not wanting to break the quiet bubble they made.

“For being you and letting me have my weird freak out yesterday.”

“I love you Y/N,” Kristie reached a hand up and ran a thumb across Y/N’s bottom lip, “you can have as many freak outs as you want and I will be with you for all of them,” she leaned up and kissed Y/N.

Y/N followed her as Kristie leaned back down on the bed, kissing her on the forehead. They were startled out of their softness as their alarm went off. Kristie leaned up, kissing Y/N one more time before pushing her off and began getting ready for breakfast.

Christen smirked when she watched the couple walk into the banquet room. Y/N had her hand on the small of Kristies back, Kristie leaning into Y/N’s side, chin tilted up and smiling at something said between them. The pair continued along the buffet, oblivious to anyone else in the room. Christen was happy at how much better Y/N looked today, more relaxed, more comfortable in herself.

The couple sat down next at the same table this time, both instinctively sliding closer to each other. Rose squinted at them, “you guys are being weird.”

“Good morning to you too Rose, I did have a good sleep thank you. How about yourself?” Y/N answered, sarcasm thick in her tone, smiling at her.

The table all laughed, Rose sulked back into her chair, arms crossed.

“Seriously, you guys don’t see it? They’re being weird.”

“Of course they are, they’re always weird, just like you,” Sonnett shrugged, grinning.

Rose huffed, no one would join in her teasing.

“Stop pouting Rosey, we can make fun of Sam when she continues to not know these two are banging,” Lindsey said flippantly, shrugging one shoulder, and taking a bite of her breakfast.

Kristie dropped her fork on her plate, “you guys knew?”

“Yea, Y/N’s shirt was inside out when we came to your room yesterday.”

“And Kristie had serious sex hair.”

Y/N and Kristie opened and closed their mouths, looking back and forth to each other, look at everyone at the table. Rose sat up straight, slamming her hands on the table, “what? You guys knew and didn’t say anything?”

“We thought you knew,” Mal shrugged. Everyone remaining indifferent at the table, Kristie and Y/N still shocked everyone knew.

“Why are you guys so calm?” Y/N squinted at them.

“Meh, we’ve matured,” Sonnett said casually, not looking up.

“They have a bet, well bets,” Mal rolled her eyes.

“You’re betting on us?” Kristie whipped her head to the blonde defender.

“Tattle tale,” Lindsey smacked Mal’s arm, “ugh, yes, we were waiting to see how long before you were going to tell us. Slash, how long before Sam would figure it out on her own.”

Y/N leaned back in her chair, “how’d you figure it out? When did you figure it out?”

“Last night. Inside out shirt,” Sonnett pointed her fork at Y/N, then shifted it to Kristie, “sex hair. It wasn’t hard.”

“So how long has this been a thing?”

“Like you said, last night,” Y/N grinned, if they were going to bet on them, they weren’t going to make it easy.

Kristie smirked at her girlfriend; she knew what she was doing. They had agreed last night that they would just be themselves, not over think their actions. They weren’t going to announce it or outright confirm it, but not actively hide it.

“What was last night?” Sam asked as she sat down with her own breakfast.

“Y/N and I snuck out for ice cream,” the midfielder answered her sister.

“Kris, you guys know that’s against the rules! You guys could get in so much trouble,” Sam chastised them.

“Sam don’t worry about it, we needed a date night, it’s been too long,” Y/N leaned back and rested her arm on the back of Kristies chair.

Everyone’s eyebrows shot up, not expecting Y/N to be so blunt about her response.

“I get it, friends need friend dates, didn’t expect Y/N to be a friend date kind of person,” Sam softened.

“Could she have friend zoned both of them any harder?” Lindsey leaned and whispered into Sonnetts ear, both smirking.

Conversation shifted while everyone ate before leaving to get ready for training.

“So obvious do you think we can do before Sam figures it out?” Kristie leaned into Y/N’s side while they rode the elevator up to their room.

“Based off the friend zoning she did at breakfast, we could probably make out and she would think we are making out as friends,” Y/N placed a kiss to the top of Kristies head.

“I’m always happy to make out with you,” Kristie smirked, slipping a hand under Y/N’s shirt, scrapping her teeth along her collar bone.

“We are standing right here, go back to pretending you aren’t together,” Rose gaged.

Y/N tugged Kristie closer to her side, while smirking at the small midfielder.

“Are we going to need to carry a spray bottle around?”

“Be quick! Bus leaves in 20 minutes.”  

They all separated to their respective rooms, Kristie making a point of sliding her hand down to grip Y/N’s butt while they walked in front of them.

“You’re alright with how that went?” Kristie asked once they were alone in their room, her tone gentle while she stared into Y/N’s eyes.

“Yea, they handled it so much better than I expected. I thought they would have teased us way more than they did.”

“It’s coming, they can’t behave for very long. But seriously, I know we talked last night, and you said were alright with this, I just wanted to make sure now that some people know,” Kristie scratched her fingers on Y/N’s stomach.

“I am, I know they will be insufferable soon, but I’m ok with it. I am insanely proud to have you as my girlfriend, and now I get to show off how much I love you. I am still worried about how Sam will be, she loves you so much and is so protective of you,” Y/N groaned when Kristie squeezed her hips.

“Sam will see how incredible you are to me and how happy you make me. She’ll freak out because she’s Sam, but don’t let it get to you,” Kristie placed a delicate kiss to Y/N’s throat before pulling away to get ready for training.

“Really?” Rose rolled her eyes when she saw Y/N carrying Kristies training bag to the bus.

“What?” Y/N furrowed her brow, she always did little things like this for her girlfriend. She every bit the cliché ‘gentle-person’.

“Will you carry my stuff too?” Mal tossed her bag at Y/N, who let it hit her chest, she stepped over it, gently guiding Kristie to the entrance with a hand on the small of her back again.

“I think that’s a no Mal,” Kristie called over her shoulder.

Everyone could see the change in the pair for the rest of the day, but no one said anything, just happy that the couple felt comfortable enough to be themselves around the team. There were the odd teasing comments thrown out to them, but it was all just their way to show they approved of the relationship.

“Such a gentleman,” Sonnett sassed while she watched Y/N pull out Kristies chair with one hand as they got to the table for supper.

“You bet she is,” Kristie smiled at Y/N, running a hand down her arm while she sat down. Y/N smiled back, the two briefly lost in their own world.

“Hey! Love birds! There are other people at the table,” Lindsey threw a piece of ice at Y/N.

Y/N blushed and sat down, Sam continued eating, unaware to the interactions around her.

“Aww I forgot to grab some of the brussels sprouts,” Kristie set her fork down and started to stand up. Y/N set her fork down, pushing Kristie to sit back down, and wordlessly made her way back to the buffet to get a separate plate of brussels sprouts.

“She just does stuff for you without you asking?” Mal asked, head tilted to the side, “Dansby never does anything like that for me. Why they hell am I jealous over you and brussels sprouts?”

Kristie smiled and nodded, watching as her girlfriend made her way back to the table. Y/N set the plate down, sat back down with a soft smile to Kristie who leaned over and placed a kiss on her cheek.

Sam squinted her eyes at them, darting between them both. Taking in the smile Kristie was giving Y/N, the way Y/N filled Kristies water glass before topping up her own. She dropped her fork to her plate with a loud clang, “no,” her face was hard, serious.

“No what Sammy?” Kristie tilted her head, confused at how serious her sister suddenly was.

“You two,” Sam shot a hand up, stiff pointed finger moving between Kristie and Y/N, “no!”

The commotion had started to turn heads toward their table. Sam had dropped her hand, but was staring hard at Y/N. The smile on Y/N’s face dropped, hands crossed in her lap, shoulder rounded in. Christen slowly pushed her chair out, ready to intervene for her sister if needed.

“Sam,” Kristie started, glancing to Y/N and back to Sam, she rested a hand on her thigh attempting to ground both of them.

“No,” Sam harshly cut her off, “I don’t care what you say. You are not fucking each other.”

Everyone recoiled at the aggressiveness Sam had behind her tone, the tension radiating off of her, the glare she was shooting Y/N, it was all unexpected.

“Sammy, it is way more than ‘fucking’,” Kristie’s voice was soft and timid, she had expected Sam to be outraged but not angry about it. Kristie tried to reach for Y/N’s hand, only for her to tug it away, she looked to see how sunken her girlfriend was and now noticing that everyone was watching them. “I love her Sammy, she loves me too.”

“I don’t care, you can do better,” that brought Y/N’s head up, she got sucked into the glare Sam was giving her.

Y/N gave one small nod, looking down, she turned slightly to Kristie, “it’s fine, all good, I’m going to go head to bed.”

Y/N was up and walking towards the door before Kristie had a chance to stop her. Christen was immediately out of her chair and following behind her.

“Sam,” Sonnett cut in, “you’ve seen them all day, you know how good Y/N is.”

“You said it yourself Sonnett, Kristie could do better.”

“I was kidding Sam!”

“Y/N is amazing to me Sam, there is no way I could do better than her. I love her. I’m going to go fix this, don’t fucking talk to me until you get your shit together,” Kristie had stood up, staring hard at her sister, she took hard fast steps to the stair well.

Upstairs she found Christen walking out of the room. She went to the rush past, when Christen stopped her with a hand on the arm, “she went for a run.”

“Fuck,” Kristie groaned, running a frustrated hand through her hair, “how was she is?”

“Quiet, she wouldn’t say anything to me when I caught up to her.”

“Fuck,” Kristie repeated, she knew Y/N was going to internalize this, there was no mincing what Sam had said, it was the exact thing she had been worried about. Kristie paced the room, she had no idea what to say to Y/N when she would get back, and that it would probably be a while before she would be back.

Christen came over and pulled Kristie into a hug, “let me know when she’s back safe and if you guys need anything. And, I, just, be gentle with her. I know you know, but please take care of her.”

Kristie nodded against Christen before the forward left the room. She tried sitting for a bit, sent a text to Y/N to check in on her, only then seeing her phone on the end table. When sitting didn’t work, she took to pacing the room, eyes darting to the door at every sound she heard in the hallway.

Finally, after two hours, the door opened slowly, Y/N stepped in. Kristie took long strides to the door, immediately pulling Y/N into her, fingers gripping her shirt, bringing them flush together. Their momentum pushing them against the door. Y/N slowly wrapped her arms around Kristie, allowing the smaller woman to pull herself closer.

“I’m going to go for a shower,” Y/N said softly as Kristie pulled away.

“Wait, Y/N, can we talk first?” Kristie kept her close, both hands still holding the shirt firmly in her grasp.

“I just want to shower and go to bed Kris,” Y/N mumbled, attempting to pull away.

Kristie hesitated, before letting her go, stepping back and taking her shirt off, dropping It to the floor and walking into the bathroom and turning the shower on.

“What are you doing?” Y/N leaned against the door frame, her voice low, all emotion gone. Ignoring that her girlfriend was shirtless and clearly going to shower with her.

“Showering with you,” Kristie said it like it was the most obvious thing, continuing to remove her clothes, then stepping forward and starting to tug Y/N’s shirt up.

Y/N remained pliant the whole time, not saying a word while Kristie undressed her, allowing herself to be tugged into the shower. Kristie wordlessly stood behind Y/N and began to lather body wash into her shoulders, digging her fingers into the tense muscles. She moved one hand up to Y/N’s neck, gripping the column of her neck, sliding it up and down, earning a deep moan. Her other hand moved to her hip, thumb pressing hard into the dimple there. She trailed the hand on her neck, fingers pressing individually to each vertebrae. At the base, she slid both hands to along her hips, squeezing before moving them up the sides.

“Fuck Kristie,” Y/N moaned, leaning back so Kristies chest was flush against her. Kristie pushed them forward to rinse the soap off. Once clear, she scattered kisses across the width of her shoulder, whispering praises between each kiss.

“You are smart,” kiss, “you are hilarious,” kiss, “you make me feel safe,” kiss, “you protect me,” kiss, “you are genuine,” kiss, “and most importantly, you love me,” the last kiss lingering on the back of her neck. Kristie wrapped her arms around the taller woman and splayed her fingers across her belly, just letting them stand under the spray of the shower.

After a minute Kristie pulled away, keeping on hand on Y/N’s hip while she stretched to reach for the shampoo. Hands only leaving Y/N’s body to pour the shampoo into her hand, then beginning to massage it into her hair.        Y/N moaned and tilted her head back, encouraging Kristie to scrap her fingers into the skin.

She turned them to rinse her hair, bringing them chest to chest. Kristie repeated her action of kissing along Y/N’s collar bones.

“You are beautiful,” kiss, “you are considerate,” kiss, “I love you,” kiss, “and most importantly, I can never, never do better than you.” She let the last kiss linger on the underside of Y/N’s jaw. Kristie glided her hands up to the back of Y/N’s neck, forcing her to tilt her down, bringing their foreheads together, “I love you,” she whispered before pressing closer for a soft kiss.

Kristie reached around them and turned the water off, then stretching out of the shower curtain to grab a towel and wrap it around Y/N, before doing herself.

Y/N was still quiet while they got ready for bed, but the tension was gone from her body.

Kristie laid in bed first, then forcing Y/N to lay on top of her. Hand guiding Y/N’s head to rest on her chest, she resisted slightly, but gradually eased into the hold.

“I love you Kristie,” Y/N whispered softly, her voiced muffled by Kristies shirt.

“I know you do, love, I love you too,” Kristie whispered back, kissing her hairline.

Kristie ran her hand up and down Y/N’s back, feeling as Y/N’s muscles slowly loosened as she fell asleep.

The next morning, Y/N was still quiet while they made their way for breakfast, she attempted to pull away from Kristie, only for the midfielder to forcefully tug her back.

“Kris can I talk to you?” Sam cautiously approached the couple.

This time Kristie did let Y/N pull away, “only if you are over yourself.”

“I am,” Sam rushed out, reaching to grab her arm before she could even think of pulling away, “I am, I don’t know what got into me yesterday. And then literally everyone yelled at me yesterday. I am so sorry, I know Y/N is good for you, you’ve been so happy the last couple months. I’m guessing that’s because of Y/N. No one will ever be good enough for you, you are amazing, but Y/N can come pretty close.”

Kristie watched her sister, giving her a calculated stare, determining if she was genuine. She nodded after a second, “but you owe Y/N a massive apology Sam.”

“I know, of course I will talk to Y/N. I just wanted you to be happy and with someone who took care of you. And if that’s Y/N, then I support it, not that you needed my approval, but I approve. Y/N is really great, and you guys are great together.”

Kristie immediately pulled Sam into a tight hug, “thank you Sam, now go fix my girlfriend.”