#oop here come the headaches

[shoujo-dreamland]

Do you ever feel as if your body is just stuck in an endless loop of anxiety? Like one thing you're anxious about goes away and instantly another replaces it and it just does not stop

[kkoct-ik]

Did the appointment go well?

yes ! thanks for asking. it went fine the person was nice. step 1 is done. back to waiting

[existingonthisplane]

Mike biking around to whatever friends house with treats and snacks and medicine whenever someone is feeling sick/down will forever be a hc I hold close to my heart

[solarmorrigan]

I'm late, I'm sorry, but here's the full fic from this WIP post yesterday!

[CW: bullying, references to canon racism and violence, mentions of recreational drug use]

-

Steve makes it to the bathroom down the hall from the shop classroom—the one that’s far from the cafeteria and always empty during lunch, where people really only come to smoke, anyway—before he completely loses his shit.

“Son of a bitch!” He’s almost screaming as he hauls off and punches the wall of one of the bathroom stalls, putting every ounce of anger and frustration and humiliation into it, hitting it so hard that the whole construction rattles.

“Motherfucker,” he hisses, shaking his hand out, because it had hurt, and then he winds up to do it again, to make it hurt more, because at least he’s in control of that much, at least it’s anything but what he’s feeling right now.

“That’s a good way to break your hand, y’know,” a voice comes from the doorway, startling Steve into pivoting and aiming his fist at whoever is coming after him now.

He stops short when he sees nobody but Eddie goddamn Munson standing there, cringing into a startled flinch to protect his head as Steve nearly swings at him.

“Jesus shit,” Steve barks, dropping his fist and stepping back, shaky with adrenaline. “You walk like a fucking ghost, Munson.”

Munson peeks out of his defensive crouch before straightening up and sending a meaningful glance at the stall wall. “Somehow, I don’t think you would’ve heard me even if I was making all the noise in the world.”

Steve shrugs, his shoulders staying up near his ears in a defensive slouch. He can feel something dropping out of his hair and down the side of his face, and he feels the humiliation all over again as he tries to swipe it away.

“What do you want?” he asks, beyond caring if he sounds rude; he thinks he’s entitled, considering.

This time, Munson shrugs, a rolling, casual thing that belies the sharp look in his eyes. “Came to see if you were okay, I guess.”

Steve snorts. Is he okay?

Like, in the grand scheme of things, the answer is a really shaky “maybe.” But lately? It’s more of a resounding “no, not fucking really.”

Aside from everything else – aside from the nightmares, aside from the headaches, aside from the fact he’d had to drop basketball after his concussion, aside from having no real friends or allies at school now that he and Nancy aren’t together – aside from all that, there’s Billy fucking Hargrove.

Hargrove, who had taken all of a month to start pushing Steve’s buttons again. Who had taken less than a few days after that to realize that Steve wasn’t going to push back.

And then he’d started looking for the boundary line, pushing and pushing, shoulder-checking Steve in the hall, tripping him in the single class they share, knocking shit out of his hands, shoving him when his back is turned, all the while spitting names and insults, until it had culminated into today’s fiasco: dumping a carton of chocolate milk over the top of Steve’s head in the middle of the cafeteria with a deeply unconvincing “oops.”

It had gone dead silent, every eye in the room on Steve’s red face and Hargrove’s triumphant grin, while Steve had only been able to stand there, shaking with startled rage as milk had sluiced out of his hair and seeped into his collar and down the back of his shirt, knowing that he couldn’t retaliate.

He couldn’t.

He’d marched out of the cafeteria, shame and anger growing as voices had bloomed up behind him, already gossiping and speculating.

So, no, actually, he’s not really okay.

But instead of saying any of this to Munson, he just scoffs and turns away, looking towards the sinks.

“Wouldn’t have expected you to care,” he says, injecting as much lazy indifference into his voice as he can, trying to armor up the way he used to. “The number of speeches you’ve given about how much me and my group suck, I’d have figured you’d be the first to say I deserved it.”

Munson doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Steve doesn’t look back to see if the barb landed. He doesn’t really care, he just wants the guy to go away so Steve can finish his meltdown and clean up in peace.

“Not your group anymore, though,” Munson finally says.

Steve shrugs, pulling a wad of paper towels from the dispenser; might as well move on to cleanup if Munson isn’t going to fuck off. He guesses his little breakdown can wait until he gets home.

“Hasn’t been for over a year, now, right?” Munson goes on. Steve says nothing, using a dry paper towel to try to blot up the mess. “And whatever you were like then, you’re… less like that now. Like, anyone paying attention can see you’re kinda trying something new this year.”

Steve ignores the way that makes something catch in his throat. “Thanks for the endorsement,” he drawls. “I’ll put it on my college apps: Not as much of an asshole as I used to be.”

“It’s a start,” Munson says, and Steve glances up in time to see him shrug in the mirror.

“I guess,” Steve mutters.

“And, uh – hey, I grabbed your stuff,” Munson says, holding up the binder and notebooks that Steve’s attention had glossed over until now. “Some of it’s kinda… milky, sorry.”

Steve blinks. “Uh. Thank you,” he says, stunned for a moment into sincerity.

Munson shrugs again, putting Steve’s stuff up on the narrow shelf on the wall that no one ever uses to hold things because it’s probably never been cleaned. Not like Steve’s stuff is clean now, anyway.

Steve turns back to the sink, wetting a few of the paper towels and waiting to see if Munson is going to leave now.

“What I can’t figure out–” nope, apparently he’s staying, “–is why you’re in here punching the wall, instead of out there, punching Hargrove.”

At least that makes more sense; he’s here out of curiosity, not concern.

“I mean, most people would’ve hit him for that,” Munson goes on. “I would’ve.”

But Steve’s already shaking his head before Munson’s finished speaking. “Not worth it,” he says firmly.

“What, afraid of a little suspension?” Munson asks, almost teasing. “Pretty sure the school would let their golden boy off with a slap on the wrist.”

“Not anybody’s golden boy anymore,” Steve snaps, scrubbing a wet paper towel through his hair in a vain attempt to get some of the rapidly-drying milk out. “I dropped basketball, remember? Didn’t even go in for swimming this year.”

“Oh, yeah,” Munson says, like he’d genuinely forgotten. “Sorry, not really into the whole… sports scene. Like, at all.”

Steve shrugs. “Whatever. Not important. I don’t give a shit about being suspended. I don’t even care if he hits me back. Not like I need another knock to the head at this point, but – whatever.” Steve shakes his head. “It’s just that he could– there are other things he could do.”

In the mirror, Munson’s eyebrows go up. “What, does he have blackmail on you or some shit?”

Steve raises his brows right back. “If he did, do you really think I’d tell you?”

Munson tips his head to the side. “Yeah, okay, fair enough.”

“Anyway, he doesn’t have blackmail, he has… leverage, I guess.” Steve lets out a harsh sigh and gives up on his hair for now, wetting a paper towel to try to get some of the milk off his face and neck, instead.

“…are you allowed to tell me what that is?” Munson asks after a moment.

And for a moment, Steve thinks about it. The only people in school who really know are Nancy and Jonathan, and he’s asked them to follow his lead in just – not talking about it. He hasn’t told anybody any version of what happened in the Byers’ house, or why Billy seems to have made him his personal stress ball. But who the hell would Munson tell? All his nerdy friends in his game club?

(No, no, that’s not fair. Steve doesn’t even know those people, and he’s trying not to be that guy anymore. He doesn’t have to be nice, but he shouldn’t be unkind.)

(The point stands, though – who would Munson even tell?)

“Do you know why Hargrove beat my face in back in November?” Steve finally asks, avoiding Munson’s eyes in the mirror by focusing very hard on getting the tacky milk off his hairline.

“Well, I’ve heard most of the rumors by now, I think. Heard Hargrove’s version of events, as has pretty much everyone, I’m sure. Haven’t heard yours, though,” Munson says, his voice tilting up in interest. “I just figured it was because he hated you.”

Steve lets out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, well, you’re not wrong. But also…” He pauses for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “There are these kids I babysit. Sort of.”

“Sort of?” Munson presses.

“Well, most of the time it feels like they’re just ordering me around like a bunch of entitled shitheads. But I make sure they get where they’re going without, like, disappearing, and that they don’t have so much unsupervised time that they manage to get themselves killed,” Steve admits.

“Uh huh,” Munson says; he sounds… a little confused, but not disbelieving. “And you ended up with this gig, how?”

“It’s Nancy’s little brother, and his little nerd friends,” Steve says (he’s allowed to call them nerds because he knows them, and it’s true. And besides, it’s affectionate).

“Aaand you’re still doing it now? Even though you and Wheeler aren’t…”

Steve shrugs. “They grew on me. But that’s– that’s not the point. One of the kids is, uh. Hargrove’s stepsister. And the night me and Hargrove got into it, I guess she wasn’t supposed to be out.”

“Ah,” Munson says.

“Yeah.” Steve sighs, giving up on the milk as a bad job; he probably should’ve run off to the gym showers instead of a shitty bathroom. He turns and leans back against the sink, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at the floor near Munson’s scuffed sneakers. “So he came looking for her.”

“So… Not that I’m advocating handing over children to pieces of shit like him, but – like, wouldn’t it have been the technically correct thing to do, to send her home with what is legally a family member?” Munson asks.

Steve passes a hand over his face. “She was terrified,” he says quietly, feeling a little like he’s betraying Max’s trust by saying it out loud, by saying it to a stranger. “She was terrified of what he would do if he found her there, where she wasn’t supposed to be. Terrified of what he would do to one of the other kids if he caught them together, since he’d specifically warned her to stay away from him.”

“What’s wrong with this other kid?” Munson asks, brows furrowed.

“Nothing,” Steve bites out. “He’s smart, and he’s brave, and he’s, like, slightly less of an asshole than some of the others, but what Hargrove cared about is that he’s black.”

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Munson snaps, and Steve’s hackles raise, ready to defend his kid all over again if he has to, but before he can get anything else out, Munson goes on. “We already knew he was a racist piece of shit, but – a fucking kid?”

Steve subsides. “Yeah. A fucking kid. So I told them all to stay inside and I went out to try to head him off. Or at least keep him out of the house. Which, obviously, I failed at.” He lets out a derisive little laugh, aimed solely at himself. “He knocked me on my ass, knocked the wind out of me, got past me– and by the time I was able to get up, he was already– he was inside, and he had that kid by the collar, up against the wall– one of my fucking kids–” Steve breaks off, the same rage and terror from that night choking up in his throat again. After the day he’s had, his emotions are all too close to the surface, too near to bubbling out, and he rubs at his nose, trying to stave off the angry, exhausted tears he can feel pricking at the corners of his eyes. “So I decked him.”

“Good!” Munson exclaims, and for a moment Steve actually manages a real smile.

“Yeah,” he says. “Then he hit me back, which, like, obviously. I was expecting him to, but– I mean, I might’ve actually won that fight if the fucker hadn’t hit me in the head with a plate.”

The expression that crosses Munson’s face is almost comically shocked. “What?”

“Yeah,” Steve says again, running a hand over his jaw, thumbing almost unconsciously at the still-fading scar where the porcelain had sliced him open. “I’m a little fuzzy on shit after that. Like, I remember being on the floor, and him kneeling over me, and hitting me, and hitting me, and then– I dunno, nothing.”

Distantly, Steve realizes that the expression on Munson’s face has turned from ‘comically shocked’ to ‘mildly horrified,’ but he’s a little too lost in the blurry memory of that night to do much about it.

“Holy shit, how are you not dead?” Munson blurts out.

He looks like he immediately regrets asking, but Steve finds he’s actually grateful for the question. He’s glad to move the conversation along.

“Max.” He smirks over at Eddie. “Hargrove’s stepsister. I guess she, uh– threatened him with a baseball bat? Saved my ass.”

That’s a deep over-simplification, but Steve can’t think of a way to explain the presence of heavy sedatives in the Byers’ house, and, anyway, she had threatened him with a baseball bat. The kids had all taken great joy in reenacting the way Max had nearly neutered Hargrove with the nailbat, actually; it’s almost like Steve had been there (and conscious).

“Holy shit,” Munson says, and whichever part he’s referring to, Steve is inclined to agree.

“Yep. So I was out fucking cold at the time, but the kids all insist that she got him to agree to leave her and her friends alone, but…” Steve shakes his head. “Hargrove is a fucking psychopath. I don’t trust him to keep that promise. So, at least if he’s focused on me, he might leave her alone. But if I hit back…”

“You think he’ll retaliate by going after one of your kids,” Munson says, only a hint of teasing in his words at the end.

“I know he will,” Steve says; Hargrove had implied as much more than once. He crosses his arms back over his chest. “And they are my kids.”

Munson throws his hands up, as if in surrender, but he’s definitely smiling now.

“I’m serious,” Steve insists, close to smiling himself. “They think I’m stuck with them, but they’re the ones stuck with me.”

“Lucky them,” Munson says, and– what?

“What?” Steve asks.

“Look, you’re either a better actor than, like, everyone in the drama club, or you at least seriously believe what you told me, which is more than I can say for Hargrove and whatever shit he came up with about the two of you getting into it over… what, his car was better than yours? He’s better at laundry ball? I don’t fucking remember, and it doesn’t really matter, because it was clearly and pathetically fabricated,” Munson says with an authoritative nod. “You, at the very least, really give a shit about those kids. So, yeah. Lucky them.”

“Well,” Steve scrambles for a moment, trying to cover the way he actually feels like he might start fucking blushing, “if I’d known all I had to do to change your mind about me was tell you about a fight I lost, I’d have done it ages ago.”

And now Munson’s back to smirking at him. “Seeking my esteem that badly, Harrington?”

“What? No. I mean – not– not specifically yours, it’s just… like, there’s not really an easy or fast way to make up for being kind of a dick for the last… while.” Steve runs his hand through his hair, stopping with a grimace when he remembers the drying milk. “You just have to keep not being a dick and hope people give you a chance. So, like, compared to that, convincing you was easy.”

“And all you had to do was get a severe concussion first,” Munson drawls.

Steve rolls his eyes. “I didn’t say it was severe.”

“You got hit with a plate,” Munson deadpans, and Steve can’t quite help the resulting flinch, at which Munson almost immediately softens. “Sorry.”

Steve shakes his head. “It’s fine.”

Mouth screwed to the side, Munson eyes Steve for a moment, glancing over his shirt and up to his face before gesturing at him. “You want some help with that?”

Steve blinks at him. “What?”

“Your whole… hair situation. You could bend ov– like, you could lean over the sink and I could, uh. Try to rinse it for you. Or whatever,” Munson offers, awkward but apparently sincere.

It sounds like a stupid as hell way to try to rinse his hair. The sinks are small, and not exactly high off the ground; Steve would have better luck just going to the locker room and showering it all out. His soap is there, too, and an extra shirt.

On the other hand, Steve really doesn’t feel like leaving the bathroom yet. He’s pretty sure lunch is going to end soon, and encountering everyone during passing period sounds like a nightmare. In here, with Munson, it’s quiet. It feels almost safe.

“Yeah, sure,” Steve finally says, and Munson looks nearly shocked that he’s accepted.

Credit to him, though: he doesn’t back out. He just slides his jacket off, tosses it up over the wall of one of the bathroom stalls, rolls up his sleeves, and gestures for Steve to lean over the sink.

“Hot or cold?” he asks, going for the taps.

“Hot,” Steve answers immediately; he doesn’t need any other cold liquid on his head today.

“Hm.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Munson says airily, turning on the water. “You just kinda strike me as a cold shower guy. Like, up at dawn, go for a run, take a cold shower – all that weird jock shit.”

It isn’t intended to mock, Steve realizes as Munson tests the water temperature—the school pipes take forever to heat up—but to tease. It’s a joke, and Steve is invited in on it. And anyway, it’s… actually kind of close to the mark, so Steve doesn’t say anything at all for a moment as he puts his head as close to the faucet as he can get it and Munson places one cupped hand over the back of his neck and uses the other to scoop water over Steve’s hair.

“Cold water is better for your hair. Not that you’d know anything about that.” Steve finally says, hoping that his own teasing tone carries even with the way he has to raise his voice to be heard over the running water.

Luckily, Munson sounds amused when he answers. “Oh! Shots fucking fired. I see how it is!” Even as he’s pretending at being offended, his fingers stay gentle against Steve’s scalp as he tries to scrub out the dried mess, and Steve fights very, very hard not to shudder.

He can’t remember when the last time someone touched him with gentle intent was. Maybe he’d gotten a hug from Dustin last week?

Shit, that’s fucking pathetic.

He tries even harder not to lean into the touch, into the surprisingly kind hands on the back of his neck and on his scalp, tries hard not to act like some kind of touch-starved weirdo and make Munson regret offering to help.

The irony of the fact that Steve is trying not to act like a freak in front of Eddie Munson is not lost on him.

After another couple of minutes of Munson manipulating Steve’s head this way and that, doing his best to be thorough, he lets Steve go entirely and shuts the water off.

“That’s probably as good as I’m gonna be able to get it,” he says, pushing another handful of paper towels at Steve as he stands up.

“Better than I could’ve done here,” Steve says with a shrug, rubbing the paper towels over his hair and grimacing as he can feel it frizzing in about a hundred different directions.

When he finishes, he turns to look in the mirror, watching in real time as it droops over his forehead and tickles at his wet shirt collar. Munson stands next to him, watching without judgement, but with what feels like an inappropriate amount of fascination.

“Well, I’m not going to lie to you,” Munson says at last, “you look a little like a sad, wet dog.”

Steve’s eyes snap to Munson with a glare. “Gee, thanks.”

“Some people are into that!” Munson insists, holding his hands up placatingly. “That droopy aesthetic, with the big, brown puppy eyes. Someone might just wanna scoop you up and take you home to take care of you. It’s a thing.”

Do you want to? – the question comes immediately and unbidden to Steve’s head, and he quickly shakes it away. They might be on amiable terms right now, teasing each other a little, but he isn’t sure that wouldn’t be a bridge too far.

(He isn’t even sure it is teasing. For a moment, he’d had the genuine urge to ask.)

“Anyway, I think most of the mess is out of your hair, but I’m pretty sure your shirt is toast,” Munson goes on, gesturing to the brown stain around the collar, over one shoulder, and probably down the back.

If he’d been wearing a darker color today, it might’ve been alright, but of course today he’d chosen light blue. Steve sighs, plucking at the front of the shirt. If he can’t salvage it, he might as well ditch it; it’s getting uncomfortably stiff and tacky with the dried milk, and he’d honestly rather stick it out in his undershirt for as long as it takes him to get to the locker room than walk around with evidence of Hargrove’s little stunt all over him.

He untucks the shirt and yanks it over his head, no need to be careful of his hair, emerging from the depths of it to find Munson staring at him in a stunned sort of silence.

“What?” Steve asks. “If it’s wrecked, anyway, I might as well get rid of it. I’ve got a spare shirt in my gym locker I can go grab.”

Munson blinks at him, almost like he’s trying to clear his head. “Or!” he practically shouts – possibly louder than he meant to, since he continues more quietly, “Or, you could just ditch for the rest of the day. I mean, you have any particularly interesting classes after lunch you feel the need to attend?”

“Not really,” Steve admits with a huff of a laugh. “But leaving after that feels a little like– letting Hargrove win. Like I’m retreating or some shit.”

“Nah, don’t think of it like that.” Munson tosses an arm over Steve shoulders, waving his other in front of both of them, like he’s trying to show Steve a grand vision and they aren’t both just staring at the ugly tile on the bathroom wall. “Think of it as cutting class and getting free weed from Hawkins High’s most esteemed dealer.”

Steve turns to look at Munson, staring at him more closely than he’s ever had reason to, and realizing there are tiny freckles on his face. “What, seriously?”

“Sure.” Munson shrugs. “Lemme smoke you out, Harrington. Seems like a good way to let your stress go for a bit – though I am just a little biased.”

“Why?” Steve asks; he doesn’t understand the sudden turn this day has taken, the sudden and bizarre kindness offered that he doesn’t even know what he’s done to deserve.

Munson’s eyes slide away from Steve, though his arm notably stays draped over his shoulders. “Been where you are. It’s not great. And, I mean, if it had happened last year, then, admittedly, I probably wouldn’t have given as much of a shit. Jock on jock violence, whatever. But you,” he glances back at Steve, “you’re genuinely trying to be, like, a good person. And I don’t think you should be punished for that. I think, in fact, that you could probably use a friend.”

“I…” The words stick in Steve’s throat, because what the hell can he even say to that? On anyone else, Steve would have assumed an ulterior motive, but Munson had infused it with so much awkward sincerity that Steve can’t help but realize it’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s said or offered to do for him in… he’s not even sure how long.

His silence must stretch on a little too long, though, because the hopeful light in Munson’s eyes fades a bit, and he begins to slide his arm off of Steve’s shoulder. “Or, y’know, you can tell me to fuck off, because I’m, like, way overstepping some boundaries, and–”

“We should go to my place,” Steve blurts, while grabbing Munson’s wrist for some insane reason.

“What?” Munson blinks over at him, (understandably) startled.

“My place. We should go there to smoke. If you still want to.” Steve could cringe for how stilted the whole thing is coming out. “I want to be able to take a real shower.”

Munson stares at him for a moment longer before laying a hand over his heart with a gasp, suddenly leaning heavily into Steve’s side and forcing Steve to wrap an arm around his waist so they don’t both lose their balance.

“I see how it is!” Munson gasps dramatically. “My sink shower just wasn’t good enough!”

Steve holds in a laugh. “Your sink shower was… fine. But I’ve got milk dried in other uncomfortable places, so unless you want to wash my back for me, too, we should go back to mine.”

Munson’s gaze snaps back to Steve, something a little odd in it, and – oh. Oh, that hadn’t sounded quite like Steve had meant it. It had sounded a little like an offer of the kind you don’t go around making to just anybody.

Steve braces himself, waiting for the reaction (he doubts if Munson would get any kind of physical, but there will probably be an awkward pulling away and sudden remembering of something he has to do literally anywhere else that afternoon), but all Munson does is break into a sly smile and say, “I could, but I’d have to charge you extra.”

Steve can’t help it: he laughs, giving Munson a good-natured shove, who finally releases Steve but doesn’t stumble more than a couple of steps away.

“Meet you at my place?” Steve offers, balling up his shirt and dropping it on top of his notebooks as he grabs them from the shelf. “Half an hour?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Munson gives him a corny little salute before grabbing his jacket from over the stall wall and preceding Steve to the bathroom door.

“Munson,” Steve finds himself calling out, just as the other boy’s hand closes around the door handle; Munson glances back and Steve fights the urge to look away. “Uh. Thanks. For, like… yeah. Thanks.”

Whatever meaning Munson takes out of Steve’s absolutely eloquent verbal vomit of gratitude, it makes him smile. “No need for thanks, man,” he says. “I’m honestly a little surprised to say it, but the pleasure was definitely mine.”

And then he disappears out the door, leaving Steve in the bathroom wondering how the hell his day had taken this turn, and just what destination it’s leading him to.

And thinking that he’s honestly a little excited to find out.

[evilminji]

Oh... oh no it's all coming together ( o.o)

Ya'll remember my Danny haunts Space Games post?

That but MORE SO. Harder. Like... ZONE GAME DEVELOPER PASSION PROJECT harder. Because? Special Interest chemicals go brrrrr~☆

And you KNOW... you absolutely FUCKING KNOW! That Danny was minding his business, going about his life, hyped as FUCK for the new Space Game 5 (a niche game but so what? It has REALISTIC physics! It's set on THE MOON!).

Has NOT stopped rambling on about it.

Been driving everyone insane, because it won't be out for MONTHS.

When~?

Youngblood, probably, goes "So what? That sound BORING. There barely anything to DO in that! Not like one of OUR Super Cool ZONE Video Games™. OURS are way better! And we gave LOADS more options then THAT! Now can we get back to-"

Freeze frame, record scratch.

Wait. WHAT!?

Danny is violently answers out of that eternal child faster then you can say "Dude! Chill!" Got them manic Obsession Eyes. Oops. Youngblood forgot Danny is Space Obsessed. But also PROTECTION Obsessed. Meaning he can't LEAVE where he is protecting.

You know.... FOR SPACE.

He needs a work around to feed his Obsession. Video games do it. Since he can go INTO them, but leave at a moments notice, if trouble happens. It's like being both IN SPACE but also AT HIS POST! Double Obsession Feeding! Happy chemicals! Mmmmm, content ecto-goo~

But now? NOW?! He's learning there is BETTER Space?!

WHERE IS THE BETTER SPACE?! *kicks open the portal*

It? Is a terrifying time for everybody. Thanks A LOT, Youngblood. It takes like... five Amazons and Pandora herself tackling the little menace, to get him still long enough to get a semi-coherent answer out of him. Stop him trying to shake down random ghosts for answers they can't GIVE.

Youngblood is grounded.

DANNY has an Obsession-crash headache, is really embarrassed, but honestly no one blames him. No one acts their best when they're Obsession gets suddenly triggered that hard. It was a poor man offered El Dorado, a scholar all the secrets in the world. He got swept up in it.

That SAID, yes, there IS a video game shop near here. There are, of course, countless such shops. It's the Zone. There are countless EVERYTHING. It's the nature of the Zone. Just don't harrass any of the developers and all will be well, Phantom. They're not afraid to put YOU in time out as well.

Deal! ( /☆.☆)/ *grabby hands*

There? Are so, SO many games. For systems Danny's never even HEARD off. Alien ones, new ones, long dead ones. Zone exclusives. It's less a shop and more a sprawling maze.

His grin is FERAL.

Space. Gaaaaaaames!!!

The more realistic the BETTER. Give him that living vicariously like an Astronaut DREAM. But fantasy maybe! Or in the future! Or deep space! Alien mayhaps! There are a few. The blended Obsessions that are kinda like his. Space and video-games instead of Space and Protection.

And? Oh~

Oh they are so SO realistic.

Impossible to play on any Earth computer, too. Not a single chance. Wouldn't even TRY and run. But! He is a Fenton! And he WILL have his Space Games! If his parents can make a portal in their basement? HE can make a Bank of Ectoplasmic Supercomputers in his spare room! Or Bedroom! Depends on renting prices!

He GUTS every landfill for MILES for usable parts.

"Liberates" parts from Rogues, left and right. Fuck their evil plans! He has computers to build! The Justice League? Baffled. Alarmed. Nooooot his problem!!!

He completes his works and? Oh~ the smile is both terrifying and fangy.

Spaaaaaaaace~☆

He starts College. On line, of course, he refuses to leave Amity. And Online can be done at his pace, at his hours. So? For once? He's actually doing WELL. Even BETTER? It helps him remember to leave them games every once and a while. Eat something. Be human.

But... well... it's like a slow flip of his Obsession starving. Now that he has all the Space he could ever want? He... suddenly finds Amity... peaceful? Which is GOOD! It's... it's GOOD.

.........just not for him.

He can almost physically FEEL him mind unclenching it's death grip on the town. Finger by finger. Hands releasing, letting go, as they... reach for something. As he starts taking NOTE of crime rates in major cities. Alien attacks and Rogues, Heros spread too thin, people getting HURT.

In need of PROTECTION.

He... he doesn't WANT to be that fickle. He LOVES Amity! It's his HOME. He wasn't protecting it just because he craved something to protect! In the end, he drags it out longer then he probably should, argues with himself, ignores the problem. Is STUBBORN.

It's only after Dani starts talking about coming back to Amity to stay with him, do the college thing like he did, that he realizes...

Amity's not his Haunt anymore.

They talk. She's excited to help him find a nice shit hole of a city to protect, but also worried because he looks really gaunt. He may LOVE Space... but...

It's the GHOST in him that loves Space. The Astronaut. The Kid who refused to die, who ate a PORTAL TO THE EVERYTHING and crawled out still exsistant, who told Death not only "not today" but "not EVER"? That kid had something to protect. Was and is and always will BE, protection. Himself, his friends, his family or the town. Doesn't matter WHAT it is.

He refused to go, so he could protect them.

The part that DID, though, was starlight. And yeah, he needs it. Feeds it desperately. But it... doesn't exactly support his human half, you know? Doesn't anchor him. Make him want to eat and sleep, be human and alive, connect with people.

Space makes him ghosty.

Dani ultimately convinces him, after spraying him down with a hose and shoving a cheeseburger down his face, to move to Metropolis with her. They get ALIENS! Have Aliens HEROS! BIG DESTRUCTIVE FIGHTS. With lots and LOTS of people who need help! Plus? Gotham is within a day trip!

And UNLIKE Gotham, the Ecto isn't RANK AF in Metropolis.

Seriously, it smells like a burst sewer pipe over there.

Danny agrees. Can totally afford a modest lil place thanks to some patents. Makes one HELL OF A SCENE moving in. With his giant, ominous, futuristic, weirdly day glow green glowing bank of super computers... in this, "we love our Alien Blorbo" Metropolis.

Cause Green and Glowing sure ain't welcome round these parts! No SIR! Somebody call the COPS!

Danny isn't even half way through, when Superman lightly touchs down, a forced grin plastered to his face. The "please, God, not another Rogue. Not a new one. Please!" all but RADIATING off him.

Hmmmmm....

Danny... kiiiinda forgot not everyone was as "I see fuckin NOTHING, man" as Amity natives. Awkward. Welp! Fenton Oblivious Gene's, ACTIVATE!

"Oh, HIIIIIII~☆ Superman! What brings you round these parts? Gosh, it's an honor! Dani! Come meet SUPERMAN!"

Clark knows what he's doing. Danny knows, Clark knows what he's doing. They are both from the Midwest. They ain't gonna break first! You kidding? Clark still has to ask. Inserts himself by INSISTING on helping. A welcome to Metropolis! Ha ha! (How long we gonna lie for, kid? How long? I can do this all day.)

Clark? Learns that Danny has become ABSURDLY knowledgeable about terraforming, spacecraft, aerospace engineering and anything else related to Space Survival. Thanks to... his "games".

Which Clark is PRETTY sure? Are creatively set up, alien, training programs. Cause both of the Fentons are DEFINITELY at least partially non-human. But, eh. Who is he to judge? The "mad scientist" vibe, though... THAT is his to judge. Which he does.

Routine check ins!

And pasta bakes. Because good lord, Fenton, you are skin and bones! And? If it helps with both Watchtower maintenance AND some killer articles? Because Danny is a fountain of Space related knowledge who loves to share it? That's between Clark and the weird, semi-feral, gremlin he's adopted! (Yes, honey, he KNOWS Danny is a grown man. But I did it with BRUCE-)

@hdgnj @babbling-babull @legitimatesatanspawn @hypewinter @mutable-manifestation @the-witchhunter

[hjizngs]

sick days | lee minho

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hi! this is my first ever post on here,, hehe. constructive criticism is welcomed, hate is not.

cw: sick reader, petnames, slight cursing, slightly suggestive (??), angstyish oops, mostly fluff! just minho being the cutest bf :3

another hacking cough forces itself from your throat, leaving behind a painful sting and the inability to swallow. a frustrated groan emits you, followed by disgruntled sniffle. you hate being sick. 

sore throats, gross coughs, painful headaches, and a stuffed nose were all a recipe for disaster — especially today. you and minho had planned out the perfect date; a picnic, stroll in the park, and finally a movie. you had looked forward to it all week, barely getting through. only the promise of seeing your boyfriend kept you going.

you turn over on your side, the gentle movement sending another round of pain signals ringing in your head. tears sprung to the corners of your swollen eyes. you were devastated at having to miss your date. blearily, you swung a hand over to the bedside table, blindly searching for your phone. 

once found, you swiped over to minho’s contact. pressing the call button, you slumped back onto your pillow defeatedly. 

“jagi?” came the sweet voice of your boyfriend. “what’s up?” 

an exhausted whimper answers him. “min.. min i’m sorry” is all you can utter. 

his voice instantly is filled with concern. “what’s my love sorry for, hm? is everything okay?”

“no, m’sorry min.. i feel so bad. my head hurts, and i puked earlier, and it —“ another pained sound exits you. “— it hurts.” 

something shuffles over the phone, and your boyfriend is quick to reply. “oh, my poor jagi. i’m on my way, don’t worry.”

you furrow your brows. “wh-what? no no you don’t have to do that, min!” 

“see you in five.”

your eyes rolled as your boyfriend hung up on you a abruptly (like he always does — and it never fails to surprise you). coughing again, you accept that there’s nothing you can do to stop him from coming over. you scan your messy room and groan. you’re sick! you don’t want him to see you like this! 

you swing your legs over to the side of your bed, only pausing when a sneeze erupts from your pinkened nose. you settle your socked feet on the floor and attempt to rise to your feet. 

you sway, blinking harshly as to try to clear the black spots plaguing your vision. maybe getting up wasn’t the best idea..? oh well. 

slowly, you begin to shuffle around your room, picking up discarded clothes and trying to round up any embarrassing wrappers or trash. you’re halfway through folding another t-shirt when your body flashes hot, then cold. the pounding in your head increases tenfold and you drop the shirt in favor of clutching your temples. spots engulf your sight and you sink to your knees, not even attempting to make it to the bed.

you’re sweating. but the ceiling fan above only makes you shiver, goosebumps lining your arms. everything is too bright, and you squint from a combination of a headache and the glaring overhead light that suddenly feels like a thousand suns beating down on you. 

another whimper crawls out of your dry throat. the only thing your fever-weakened mind can think is minho. where is minho? you need him, it hurts it hurts everything hurts —

“jagi?! oh my god, are you okay?” thunderous footsteps make their way to you and you wince at the sudden exclamation. 

cold, cool hands press themselves to your trembling body and you sigh in relief. they stroke through your hair, carding through gently. you open one eye to see who they belong to, but clamp it shut immediately, the bright light making your eyelids pulse.

 you hear shuffling from the side, and one of the hands leave you. you suppress a whine, but something in your expression must be alarming because the voice coos. “oh, baby, i’m just turning off the light, okay?” 

no, it’s not okay. not when those hands are the only thing grounding you, keeping you from melting. however, as promised, the offending light gets shut off, and you hum in appreciation. 

the nice hands quickly return to their rightful place in your hair, and you bravely attempt to open your swollen eyes again.

your boyfriend looks down at you gently. “my poor girl. let’s get you back into bed, hm?”

you nod pathetically, letting him lift you up and place you softly on your mattress. you murmur a quiet thanks and he kisses your sweaty forehead in response. he sits on the side of the bed next to you, placing his hand on your leg and rubbing comforting circles into your skin.

“have you eaten at all yet?” he inquires.

you shake your head, “no, not yet. i don’t think i could eat a thing without puking it back up, to be honest.”

minho hums at that, scanning your face. he reaches out and places a small hand on your forehead, feeling out your temperature. he frowns.

“i think we need to check for a fever, honey. you’re very warm.”

he moves to go stand and you pout. “don’t leave, please.”

“i’m just going to grab the thermometer and a glass of water, i’ll be right back, okay?”

“be fast!” you plead.

he cards a hand through your hair. “i’ll be so fast, jagiya.”

it feels like an eternity as minho tries to locate the thermometer from outside your bedroom. you shiver again, pulling the closest fuzzy blanket over you and burrowing into it.

and that’s how he finds you when he returns — a sweaty, sick burrito. you watch as he smiles down at you fondly, pulling back the blanket a little to take a look at you.

“think you can sit up for me? need help?” he asks.

“need help, please,” you respond nasally.

minho aids in positioning you up so you’re leaning against your pillow. he holds out the found thermometer and motions for you to open your mouth.

you oblige and he places the thermometer under your tongue. after a few moments, he pulls it out and looks down on it with a displeased expression — like it personally offended him.

“100.” he states, his brow crinkling. “yeah, you’re not leaving this bed.”

you sigh and slump farther into your blanket. “i’d rather hear that in a different situation.”

minho blinks slowly, fondly. “i’ll ignore that, just because you’re sick.”

you stick out your tongue as he rises from the bed to put away the thermometer. he looks down at you, unimpressed, but with a twinkle of amusement in his catlike eyes. “brat.”

“i’m sick!” you whine, “be nice.”

“i am being nice. so nice, in fact, that i’ll ignore this little attitude —“ he reaches down and pokes your forehead, “— because i know that you feel like shit.”

you roll your eyes when he’s turned and putting the thermometer in some drawer, but deep down you’re very grateful he came over to take care of you. for all his teasing, he really does treasure you. you still feel bad for canceling the date.

in some feverish, dramatic mood change, tears begin to well in the corners of your eyes. they’re hot and uncomfortable, and you sniffle. not only did you cancel the date, you’re acting like a brat instead of thanking minho for looking after you.

“m’sorry,” you croak from your cocoon of blankets.

minho turns around sharply and scans your face quickly. he strides over to the bed and sits beside you. “what?”

“m’sorry!” tears begin to trickle down your face, sticky and unwanted. you reach up to swipe them away.

minho’s hand reaches out, grabbing onto your arm and lightly tugging you into his chest. “silly girl. what are you sorry for?”

“f’making you come over and take care of me and being a brat and not saying thank you!” you rush out, slurring some words.

a chuckle shakes minho’s chest. “oh wow, you’re really out of it, huh?”

“i’m sorry!”

“hey, hey,” his joking manner disappears when a fresh wave of tears erupts from your eyes. “you have nothing to be sorry for. you’re sick. you have a fever, baby. you aren’t being a brat, i’m sorry i called you that when you weren’t feeling well.”

you peek up at him. “you mean it?”

minho doesn’t respond, just pulls you tighter into his chest and kisses the top of your hair. his cool hand rubs on your back soothingly under your shirt. he gently lays back onto your bed, cradling you to his chest.

“try to sleep some of this off. take a nap,” he orders you lightly. “i’ll be right here.”

at his words, you snuggle into him. he reaches to the side and pulls a blanket over the two of you. just before sleep takes it’s hold over you, you look up at him, catching his eye.

“thanks for being here, min. i love you,” you murmur, your eyelids getting heavier and heavier as you begin to succumb to sleep.

the last thing you hear before sinking into feverish dreams is, “anytime, baby. i love you more.”

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yas! ok! first post done, please lmk what u think!!!1 reblogs and likes are appreciated:3

[princesspastel8]

Chapter 6: "It's good to be back!"

Dipper POV

I wake up with a splitting headache. I groan as I sit up, pressing and rubbing my fits against the temples of my forehead. I swing my legs off my bed and hiss out in pain from moving to fast.

"Damnit....Bill.." I said while standing up and leaning against the wall for support. "My head...hurts so much."

I hear Bill laugh before he speaks. "Sorry, pinetree, I couldn't help myself. Seeing the fear in those meatsacks' eyes brought so much joy!"

I tense from his shouting. "Please...no screaming." I beg while slowly walking to the restroom next door to my room.

"Right, you had a pretty memorable night, huh?" Bill chuckles.

I take off my t-shirt and sweat pants, turning on the shower to warm water setting. I step inside, letting out a sigh as my tense body slowly relaxes. I lower my body underneath the showerhead, humming to the feeling of the warm water running down my body and soothing my headache.

"Yes, but enough with games. My plan is to bring you back today, but I can't think of who my last sacrifice will be."

"Haha, oh come on, pinetree. I'm sure there's someone out there who's stupid enough to get close to you -"

Bill is cut off by the sound of the bathroom door opening. "Oh! Oops, my bad dude. Didn't know anyone was in here." I hear Soos say.

I sigh heavily, pushing my wet hair from my face. I peek my head out of the shower currant. "So you're saying you didn't hear the water running through the door?"

Soos shrugs his shoulders. "Nope! But I'll wait until you're done. See ya later, dude." He said while walking out.

A smirk plays its way onto my lips as I pull my head back under the showerhead. "I think I found the idiot I can lead to their death...hehe." I chuckle while washing my hair and body.

"I forgot all about good old question mark! This is going to be hilarious to watch playout! Hahaha!" Bill laughs.

"Indeed." I said as I turned the water off and stepped out of the shower.

I wrap a towel around my waist and walk to my room. I open the door and walk inside, locking it behind myself. I drop the towel while walking to my dresser and pull out black shorts and a black tank top along with some boxers.

I dry my body, putting on my clothes. I place the towel on top of my head, and I walk down the stairs. I raise an eyebrow at everyone. No one's in the kitchen, but everyone is in the living room.

"Uh, why is everyone..." I trail off while walking into the living room. I look at the tv blankly. The news is on.

"A crazed serial killer is still on the lose. The bodies that were found and identified as Robert Stacey Valebtino, Tambry, Susan Wentworth, and Pacifica Elias Northwest. The police haven't figured out a clear motive nor how the murders could possibly be linked. I'm Jessica Jimenez, leaving a warning: be at home before sunset, lock your doors and possibly your windows, and stay safe. And now for the weather -"

Stan turns the Tv off to comfort a crying Wendy and Mable. Ford, however, is taking notes on his notepad, possibly writing everything the reporter stated. I sigh, walking over to Wendy, rubbing my hand up and down her back.

"Ahahahaha! Look at all the chaos and fear you put into those meatsacks! So proud of you, pinetree!" Bill cheers.

I feel my cheeks begin to heat up at Bill's words. I shake my head at the sound of Ford's voice. Everyone turns their attention to him.

"Stan and I will be leaving to hunt down this killer. My thoughts are that whoever is doing this has found out how to summon Bill."

Everyone's eyes widen at the mention of Bill, but my eyes hold shock for a different reason. "Just how did Ford figure it out? The deaths aren't linked in anyway....Unless he's referring to me killing two members of the cipher wheel." I thought to myself.

"What makes you think that grunlke Ford?" I question out loud.

"This killer only needs one more life to take. The fact that this killer killed two members of the cipher will speak for itself. So, in order to prevent such a thing from happening, Stan and I will find this killer and turn him or her over to the police."

Everyone nods their head in understanding as the two prepare to leave. "And no one is allowed to leave for any reason. Do I make myself clear?" Stan said rather sternly.

I sigh heavily while everyone else nods. They walk out the front door, leaving Wendy, Soos, Mable, and me.

"Soooooooo....duck detective?"

Wendy drys her tears and stands up. "I c-can't right now....I have to plan h-his funeral." She whispers, her voice cracking.

"And I have to talk with Candy and Grenda like we promised." Mable said while standing up and walking into her room.

"Oh...alright." Soos said sadly.

I watch as the two leave with a smirk on my lips. I glance at Soos as I stand. "Hey Soos, remember how we used to be dino bros?" I ask.

"Yeah, dude! It was so much fun....you know before the fight we had and almost being killed -"

"Right, right. How would you like to be killer hunters?"

"That would be awesome! It's been a while since I've been on an adventure."

"You didn't understand what I asked. Would you like to come with me to find the killer? Stan and Ford are too old to do it alone."

"Uh...I don't know, man, Stan did say not to leave no matter what." Soos points out with uncertainty.

"Oh come oooon Soos! They'll thank us for catching them!" I answer back.

"Well....if you say so! I trust you, Dipper."

"Great! Just let me get a few things, and we'll be on our way." I said while turning to leave the room.

"Hehe, things just got interesting.", Bill hums.

I chuckle while walking up the stairs to my room. "They have...yes they have."

■■■■

Mable POV

I sigh as I lay back in my bed, petting waddles with my good hand. I still can't believe that Dipper did that to me....he changed ever since that day. I blame myself for everything....I was drunk and just wanted to be cool. I can never forgive myself for that.

I sit up, hearing the door open to my room. It's Wendy. She's been down and out since Robbie was killed. She mentioned how he never came home last night but didn't think too much of it. I always thought Robbie and Tembery would last....I wonder what happened.

"Hey, uh Mable, have you seen dipper? I want him to look after the shack while I make a quick run. Soos isn't here either, so...." She trialed on.

"Huh?! But Stan said not to leave....should we tell them?"

She shrugs, "eh maybe...I'm sure they're safe."

But I don't believe it. Something feels off... really off. Dipper is different, far darker than he was back then. I never knew that he got the Cipher wheel on his back...I would sometimes hear him whispering in his room in the middle of the night. I don't know if it's me or the Mable juice, but Dipper isn't... dipper.

I hear Stan and Ford enter my room with a strange expression.....fear? "Grunlke Stan? Grunlke Ford? What's the matter?"

"No time to explain. Where's Dipper and Soos? We looked all over the shake but couldn't find them. We were hoping they were in here..." Ford said while nervously looking around my room.

"I don't know. I saw them walking into the forest through the window, just thought they were going to help you two find the murderer." I point out while smiling.

"Uh kid... we already know who the murderer is." Stan said in disbelief.

"Well, say it, old man." Wendy said in an impatient tone.

"Dipper. He's the killer." Ford finally said, his voice full of dread.

Wendy laughs as if it was a joke, but the look on my grunlkes faces says it all. The feeling in my chest grew heavier. How could my twin brother..be a killer?

I feel tears fill my eyes as I stare down at my broken wrist. "Wh-what makes you think that -"

"No time to explain! Get ready. We are leaving now before it's too late."

"What do you mean?" Wendy questions warily.

"Before Dipper brings back Bill."

□□□□

Dipper POV

As we get closer and closer to Bill's stature, the wider my smile becomes. So close...so so close...

"Aye dude, where are we going?" Soos asks while glancing around. "Isn't this where that Bill guy stature is?"

I turn around and chuckle, my vision flashing to yellow. "Yes. Yes, it is."

I can sense the fear coming off of Soos. It only makes my excitement grow. We approach his stature. I see tree veins wrapped all around his poor stature. I groan at the sight but smile as I hear Soos backing away from me.

"I don't know about this man. Dipper, I think w-we should head back..."

I chuckle, my chuckles changing to laughs, my voice becoming mixed with Bill's. "Sorry, question mark! But pinetree has other things planned."

I drop my bag, pulling out a pistol I took from my father before leaving for gravity falls. I turn around, aiming the gun right in between his eyes. "Dino bros... yeah, sure, when I was twelve. But things are different now....very different. Think about it this way! Your sacrifice will soon bring me happiness!"

Soos eyes begin to fill with tears, which only makes me laugh more. "Dipper, you can't do this, dude! Wh-what about your family?...you can't do this to us!"

"Family?....Bill is my only family." I frown before shooting him, killing him instantly.

I watch his eyes roll back as blood spats on my face. I place my gun back into my bag, picking up Bill's stature and placing it in the middle of an open space. I pull out a can of blue spray paint, drawing a huge circle around it. I then draw a star, the corners over the star with circles on the tips. I reach back into my back for the jars and 5 candles and a lighter.

I quickly place the jars and candles inside the circles on the tips of the star. I quickly open each jar, lighting up the candles. I watch as the red flame quickly turns blue. I stand before my art, my hard work finally paying off.

My smile disappears as I hear my name being called. I ignore it, holding my arms in the air as the palms of my hands glow with blue flames. "L-T-O-L-O-X-A! His time has come to rise! I invoke the ancient power that Bill has returned!!" I shout to the top of my lungs as my body begins to float from the ground.

"We're too late...." I hear Ford whisper in grief.

I watch as Bill's stature begins to float from the ground as the souls merge with it. The sky darkens, and reality freezes, turning to black and white. A bright yellow glow comes from the stature, causing everyone's eyes to shut tightly. Once everything settles down, I'm greeted by the voice I've yearned to hear from outside my head after all these years.

"Oh, gravity falls, it is good to be back! What is this? The second time?"

[aemondsbabe]

From Ashes, Fire | Claimant Pt 3

summary: dragons take what they want, you and your brother are no different. but what will be left to burn in the name of happiness?

pairing: dark!aemond x sister!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, dark aemond, angst, angst but happy ending, very cersei/jaime coded moment that's all i'll say, major character death, noncanonical death, very brief descriptions of injury, blood, i promise it's nothing graphic, reader turns to the dark side lol, piv sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), minor breeding kink, possessive aemond, possessive reader, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 8.3k oops

a/n: this is it, the grand finale! i had so much fun with this series and i hope y'all enjoy the last bit!

gif creds to @aemondtargaryensource

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

🔪read part 1 and part 2 here!

❤️my masterlist

🦋find me on ao3!

🌟add yourself to my taglist!

"Love is the bane of honor, the death of duty."

“Jaehaera, please,” Helaena’s voice is gentle and melodic even as she scolds her daughter, pointing at one of the straw-stuffed dolls in her tiny hands, “You must share with your brother; how about you let him play with the knight, hm?”

One of Maelor’s little fists wraps tightly around your pointer finger as you chuckle at the displeased frown on the toddler’s face when she shoves the doll in Jaehaerys’s direction, though her lips quickly lift into a smile at her mother’s praise. 

“Good, that’s very sweet of you,” your sister smiles, watching her eldest two children play, sitting cross-legged beside them on the plush blanket she’d had spread out on the grass. 

A cool breeze blows through the grassy field while you idly look around at the many red tents and campfires, observing the groups of people gathered around – knights sat at one of the many wooden tables, a few servants peel vegetables brought from the Keep, and various nobles, lady’s maids, and other court patrons shuffle about. 

Taking a deep breath, you turn your face toward the sun, cooler now as day turns to evening, and savor the first moment of peace you’ve had in nearly a week. The days since your marriage to Jace have been… eventful, to say the least, with each new duty feeling like another stab to your already fragile heart. Respite hadn’t even found you in the night, each one spent fending off your new husband’s advances with excuses of your menstrual flux having come early, headaches, and various other ailments. He was getting anxious, you could tell – each night he pushed back a little more, arguing the importance of consummating the marriage, reminding you of the vows you had both uttered in the Sept. 

But how can a vow mean much if the Gods know it was only ever a lie?

You had felt your mother’s eyes on you at every turn, watching you and your brother like a hawk. Though as the days progressed her fiery stare cooled to one of guilt – a penance for subjecting you to the same fate that had befallen her. You suspected that was why she and Rhaenyra had organized this little trip; a celebratory hunt they’d called it, to commemorate the rift between your two families finally being healed. 

“Dear, dear wife,” your oldest brother slurs, goblet clutched in one hand as he staggers toward you and Helaena, groaning when he flops down on the bench next to you. “Oh, you look… ravishing,” your lips quirk up into a smirk as he drapes an arm around your shoulders, giggling and making faces at Maelor. 

“What did I tell you,” your sister says through a huff of laughter, violet eyes finding yours, “They ignore you until they’re drunk.”

If only that were the case, you think as you force yourself to laugh in time with her. 

“That is quite rude,” Aegon chastises, brows furrowed in offense while he takes a messy swig of wine, a few red drops run down his chin. “Do you see how she treats me?” He pouts, leaning closer to you with a wry grin, “The deed is done though, yes? Bastard knew where to put it?”

“Aegon!” Helaena hisses, swatting at his knee. 

The two fall into a playful round of bickering, thankfully leaving you out of it. With a sigh, you let your gaze wander again, tumbling thoughts muffling your siblings voices. 

“It’s not as hard as it looks, here,” Daemon’s voice catches your attention and you watch as he points a knife at the belly of a deer he and Lucerys had hunted earlier in the day, showing the boy where to cut, “Get your knife in there – good, like that, and now just cut downwards, one clean movement…” You glance away as blood spills from the beast’s abdomen, staining the grass below it.

Looking over the treeline, you try to ignore the sick feeling building in the pit of your stomach, though you know it won’t be settled until Aemond’s back at camp. Biting at your lip, you let out an irritated huff when you can’t make out any movement in the distance, no sign of your brother or Ser Criston, even your husband. 

You’d only spoken to Aemond once since your marriage – a hushed conversation hidden away in an alcove when the two of you had a spare moment alone after supper. He’d held you while you’d cried against the crook of his neck, shushing you and running a soothing hand up and down your back. You remember the way his jaw felt, teeth clenched as he rested it atop your head, letting you tuck yourself into him while he vibrated with barely contained rage. 

“I can’t do this, I can’t,” you lamented, peering up at him with a mournful sob as your fingers clung to the dark jacket he wore, “They’re planning on going back to Dragonstone! Dragonstone, Aem!”

“Shh, little one,” his hands had cupped your cheeks, wiped away your tears with calloused thumbs, “I’m not letting them take you.”

His words had held such conviction, you’d wanted nothing more than to believe him, yet you’d shaken your head anyway. “I don’t think there’s any stopping them, this time,” your breath had hitched with each word, “You heard Rhaenyra, they’re leaving as soon as we’re back from the hunt and she would never agree to leave Jacaerys here, never.” 

You had known you were spiraling, head spinning as you’d looked up at him, and yet the words tumbled out anyway. “I hate him, I wish he’d just… just disappear!” It was a childish little jab and yet, your heart had leapt into your throat the moment you’d said it. You were expecting to feel the clawing ache of guilt gnaw at your stomach, however, a weightlessness followed. You’d never felt lighter than in that moment – tucked away in the shadows, a secret you’d harbored since childhood finally set free.

Aemond had stayed quiet, but you saw the way his violet eye sparkled, the gears turning in his head.

Your words had echoed in his head, calling out to him like a siren’s song – the sweetest sound he’d ever heard. 

Finally convinced that the three men are truly not just going to materialize at the edge of camp, your gaze shifts to where your mother and Rhaenyra sit, huddled together beside one of the many firepits. Bouncing little Maelor on your lap, you’re vaguely aware of Aegon and Helaena idly chatting beside you, something to do with how your brother believes some such thing about the Small Council is a waste of time – a frequent complaint of his since taking the throne. 

You’re hardly listening though, head cocked to the side while you watch the two women laughing and animatedly conversing; they remind you of the young girls at court – youthful and carefree, too wrapped up in one another to notice much around them. 

That’s why she let them go together, that shadowy voice in the back of your head hisses, Too distracted to know better. You clench your jaw, only halfway aware of the stinging pain at your cuticle as you dig a nail into it.

“What say you to accompanying me on a hunt, nephew?” Aemond had asked earlier in the afternoon, voice low as he slunk over to where you, Jace, and your mothers had been sitting at one of the wooden tables, picking through a light lunch the cooks at the Keep had prepared.

“Aemond,” Alicent had sighed wearily, leaning heavily on her elbows while Rhaenyra regarded your brother with a cool indifference – evidently unaware of your family’s tensions. 

“What? I merely wish to bond with my dearest sister’s new husband.”

“Uncle,” Jace had finally spoken up, pointedly grasping one of your hands that had sat on the table, “As much as I would love to accompany you, don’t you think it a bit unwise for only the two of us to go? If I remember correctly from my youth, your father used to take a whole host of men into the woods with him…” 

“Do you not think yourself man enough to take on a measly buck, nephew?”

“Aemond!”

“Don’t fret, mother. ‘Twas only a joke, a tasteless one, I admit,” your hackles had raised at that, at how quickly he had stood down, so wholly unlike your brother, “Besides, I’ve taken the liberty of asking Ser Criston to accompany us as well.”

It was then, at the mention of the knight, that Rhaenyra had leaned closer to Alicent, the two of them laughing softly and sharing knowing glances while your half-sister whispered into her ear. 

“Surely the three of us are more than capable of subduing a deer or two, don’t you think?” 

Jace had balked at that, sighing heavily as his grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly. 

“I think it sounds like a wonderful idea,” you had coached your lips into a tight smile when you interjected, “Doesn’t that sound like a lovely idea, mother?”

“Hm?” She had blinked, finally parting from Rhaenyra, the ghost of a smile still on her lips. 

“For Ser Criston to accompany Jace and Aemond, to go hunting with them.”

“Well, I –”

“Surely that would be safest, yes?” You pushed, glancing at Jace before locking eyes with Aemond, “A knight with them, a Kingsguard no less.” 

“I think it sounds like a fine idea,” Rhaenyra had smiled, squeezing one of your mother’s hands, “They should take the time to bond, no? Savor it while we’re together these last few days.” 

“Yes… yes, a fine idea,” she had immediately agreed, always swaying to your half-sister. 

“Wonderful,” your brother murmured, a slow smile spreading across his lips as he clasped his arms behind his back, “I’ll have Ser Criston ready the horses.” With that, he had stalked away, giving you one final glance. 

“You truly think this a good idea?” Your husband had questioned, turning to you while your mothers got lost in yet another hushed conversation.

“Of course!” You had nodded, clasping one of his hands in both of yours, “Aemond is… odd with his affections. This is just his way of attempting to rectify things, I’m sure of it.” 

“I suppose…,” he had sighed, running a hand through his dark hair.

“It’ll be fine,” you had urged, going so far as to lean over and press a kiss against his cheek, one of the scant few times you had initiated any affections. 

Those words had echoed in your head while you watched the three men sheath their swords and load various bows and arrows onto their horses, the midday sun suddenly feeling much too warm against your skin. 

It’ll be fine, you had reminded yourself for the millionth time when they set off, horses galloping along a narrow path that led into the Kingswood, He’s not letting them take me, it’ll be fine. 

“Oh, shit,” Aegon whispers beside you, nearly dropping his goblet. 

You quickly follow his eyeline, looking to where he stares at one of the small paths that lead into the camp – the sight wrenching a hitched gasp from your throat. 

A hush seems to fall over the entirety of the camp, only for the quickest of seconds, before chaos erupts. Aemond stands before one of the horses, a grey one you recognize as Jace’s, steadying it while Criston pulls your husband from the saddle, smearing the side of the animal with thick streaks of red. 

Daemon quickly runs over to assist while you hastily hand Maelor back to Helaena, hardly looking in her direction as you do. 

“Jace? Jacaerys?!” Rhaenyra calls, picking up her skirts as she sprints over, violet eyes wide with terror, “What is it? What’s happened?”

Every noise sounds muffled when you make your way over to the huddle of commotion, Alicent following closely behind. A strange detached sensation fills you while you watch Criston and Daemon lay Jace down on a nearby bench, blood immediately soaking into the silk fabric of the pillows. 

It feels as if everything is happening both too quickly and too slowly all at once – a few of the other knights rush forward, hastily pulling his tunic out of the way before pressing stark white medical linens to the gaping cut on his side. They bark orders over his body, yelling for the servants to bring water and more linens. 

You feel your mother and Helaena grabbing at your arms and it’s only then you realize you’re shaking, swaying in place like a leaf on a branch; you know they’re talking to you but their words are dulled by the rushing of blood in your ears.

Somewhere in your periphery, you register the sound of Daemon’s voice, thick with desperation as he shouts question after question at Criston, “What happened? When? How? How long ago? How could you, you were supposed to protect him?!” They blend together, echoing through the haze in a roaring hum. 

Distantly, you register the feel of another warm body pressing into the small pack you find yourself a part of. Helaena shushes someone next to you and your gaze tears itself away from the pools of crimson gathering on the grass just long enough to realize that it’s Luke. Your heart breaks at that, a sharp pang in your chest at the fact that the poor boy is distressed enough to seek comfort from your family, of all places. 

“No! No, no, no!” Rhaenyra’s wails slice through the fog clouding your mind in such an exacting manner that your knees buckle, “Jace, Jace, look at me, please? Sweetling, please look at me!” She sobs, leaning over her son, one hand cradling his cheek. 

Unseeing brown eyes stare, unblinking, up at the hazy orange sky while yours focus solely on a single, paralyzing flash of violet. 

He’s not letting them take me, it’ll be fine. 

The Sept is eerily quiet, normal for this time of night but unsettling all the same; the occasional fizzling noises of the dozens of flickering candles is the only way you’re able to discern that time hasn’t simply halted. Pale moonlight shines in through the windows, bathing the floor in a star-shaped pool of light and making the whites of the painted eyes resting atop Jace’s face glow like beacons. 

You had picked out the stones and painted the eyes on them yourself, taking them from a spot in the gardens you knew he had favored when you were children and spent hours sourcing the pigments to make just the right shade of brown – one that reminded you of the rich chocolates that had been imported from Essos for your betrothal feast. 

“A wife’s duty,” your mother had said.

Rhaenyra had glared at you the whole time; silently, you wondered if she somehow knew it wasn’t duty that drove you – only atonement. 

Atonement, your mind echoes as you sit upon the cool stone steps beneath the Seven-Pointed Star, leaning your head against the bannister as you force yourself to look at his body, still atop black silks. 

Must one feel guilt to atone? Must I atone for not feeling it? When will it end?

Those questions had plagued you in the days since Jace died, bled out like a hunter’s boon in the field by the Kingswood. They’d settled over you like a fever, an ever-present haunting ache, made only worse by the soft, sinful voice in the back of your head that whispered the truth – that you didn’t care, that you don’t even now. 

You hadn’t cared, even as blood seeped from the gash at his side, even as you forced yourself to kneel by his still warm body and press gentle kisses to his forehead – the performance of a good wife. 

You hadn’t cared in the carriage ride back to the Keep, letting your mother and your sister hold you while you cried – I’m sad, I’m sad, I’m crying because I’m sad, I’m crying because I should be sad.

And you hadn’t cared when Aemond had come to you in the dead of night, had slipped into your chambers – your chambers – through one of the many hidden passageways in the old castle. 

“How?” You had asked, tracing patterns onto the pale skin of his bare chest while the two of you laid tangled in your silk sheets. 

“A boar,” he answered plainly, speaking through a sigh while running his fingers over the thigh you had draped across his hips, “Just as I’ve told you the last four times you’ve asked.”

“Aemond,” you sighed in that same tired tone your mother so often used; your eyes had narrowed when you saw the corner of his lips just barely twitch up into a smile; were it any other time, he would’ve made a cheeky comment about the similarity. 

“I’ve told you,” his grip tightened ever so slightly on your thigh and his other hand had grasped at your chin, guiding your eyes to his, “We had been tracking a buck, had gotten close and dismounted our horses, and had, I assume, stumbled into the beast’s territory and it charged at us.”

“Brother,” you had whispered, shaking your head and cupping his cheek, “Have you forgotten that I can tell when you lie?” 

He had stayed silent for a long while at that, jaw clenched while he stared at some point off in the distance, lips drawn into a tight line. Eventually, you had laid your head down, resting your cheek on his shoulder while you tried to accept that you wouldn’t be getting the truth that night, if ever.

It was only then that he had spoken.

“Please, let me protect you.” 

“Protect me?” You had looked up, brows furrowed as you studied his face, “From what?”

“From the law –”

“Our brother is king, if he says it was not murder, if he says it was an accident, which he already has done, then no one will question his –”

“Fine, then,” he had snapped, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, “From the damn Gods! I…” He trailed off, sighing heavily while he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“... the Gods?”

He’d finally looked at you again and your heart had pinched meanly in your chest when you saw tears gathering in his violet eye, “They will judge me harshly for what I’ve done, whenever the time comes, but… I will not subject you to the same fate.”

You had scoffed at that, had rolled your eyes when he looked away shamefully and had climbed atop him then, straddled his hips and turned his face toward yours, “I don’t give a shit about the Gods.” 

“What?”

“I don’t,” you repeated, leaning down until your forehead touched his, “If they were good Gods, if they cared, they would not have subjected me to that sham of a marriage in the first place. They would’ve guided our mother rightly, but they didn’t.”

“Sister, I –”

“And I hate that our nephew paid for that, Aemond, I truly do, but I am the one who told you to do it.”

He had shaken his head while a mournful peal of laughter clawed its way out of his throat, “You didn’t tell me to do any–”

“Perhaps not directly,” you interjected, smiling sadly while you cupped both of his cheeks in your hands, running a thumb over the scar beneath his eye, “But I did. I could’ve told you not to, could’ve said I didn’t mean it, could’ve cautioned our mother against letting him go with you, but… I didn’t.”

“No… no, I suppose you didn’t,” he sighed, swallowing thickly as he tried in vain to blink away tears.

“I didn’t,” you echoed, your words hushed and cooed, like a mother soothing an infant, “I know what you’re capable of, I knew it then, and I didn’t.”

He nodded, his breath stuttered in his throat as a single tear rolled down his cheek. 

“Because I knew you’d protect me… and you did.” 

“I did,” he mumbled, nodding up at you as his face twisted and a small sob bubbled from his lips, “I did, I did it. I did it, I did. For you, for us.” 

“I know,” you murmured sweetly, stroking a hand over his long hair while you pressed sweet kisses against his forehead. You held him as he cried, huddled together in the dark of your chambers 

And you hadn’t cared when you realized you were smiling. 

“The hour is quite late, little one,” the suddenness of his voice makes you jump, though you settle quickly. 

“So it is,” you smile and look over your shoulder, tilting your head up while he walks down the steps to join you, “The hour of ghosts, yes? Fitting.” 

He huffs as he sits beside you before regarding you with a slight smirk, “I suppose it is,” he murmurs, only sparing the red and black draped body on the altar a passing glance.

“Why are you here?”

“I was looking for you… Hel said you would probably be here.”

“Mm,” you nod, idly running a finger over the pattern on your skirts, finding a morbid sort of beauty in the way the rich black silks glimmered in the candlelight. 

“Why are you here?” Aemond asks, eye following the line of your profile. 

“Praying.”

Without looking, you can practically feel him rolling his eye beside you, huffing a little breathy laugh again, “Have you forgotten that I can tell when you lie, sweet sister?”

Hearing your own words from the night before parroted back to you pulls a laugh from you as well, though you wince as your giggle echoes throughout the Sept. “It’s funny,” you sigh, glancing about the cavernous space before finally looking at him, “This is the only place where no one wants to be.” 

He hums next to you and nods his head, lets the two of you sit in silence for a moment before you continue. 

“I don’t have to pretend when I’m here.” 

“Pretend?” 

Biting at your bottom lip, you nod and lean into his touch when he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “That I’m sad… that I feel anything, really,” you sigh, breathing the words more so than saying them, “All Rhaenyra does is cry, Daemon is ready to strangle anything that moves, Lucerys is despondent to the point of being mute. Even our own mother cries for him and I cannot muster a single tear that isn’t a farce.”

Your eyes trail back over to Jace and you regard him with a mournful stare, staying silent for a long moment as you try to will yourself to feel sad, to feel angry, to feel guilty… yet nothing comes.

“Everyone grieves differently,” Aemond mumbles beside you, though his words only serve to make you more bitter, “Perhaps, in time –”

“In time nothing will happen,” you snap, grimacing at the harshness in your voice, “I’m not sad and I am… I’m tired of pretending I am.” You murmur, leaning your head on his shoulder. 

Aemond is quiet for a long while, though you can feel the energy radiating off of him in waves – you’ve always been able to tell when he has a lot on his mind. You’re content to simply let him think, taking his silence as a cue that it’s your turn to let him sort through things. 

“You… are happy, though? Yes?” He finally asks after several long minutes, going strangely rigid next to you as if he’s afraid of your answer, “I know you say you aren’t sad but…”

“Aemond,” you sigh, sitting up and staring at him as a slow, creeping smile spreads across your face, “I have never been happier.”

“Truly?”

“Yes!” You quickly shift yourself on the stairs, turning yourself more toward him and placing a gentle hand on top of his thigh, “Big brother, you saved me.”

He opens his mouth to speak but you don’t let him get a word in edgewise before the emotions you’ve been bottling up over the last few days finally spill over and you practically throw yourself into his lap, straddling his hips. 

“Brother, I've been tethered to him since I was eight and you have freed me from that,” you say softly, voice hardly carrying in the air. Slowly, carefully you pull his eyepatch off, the only one ever allowed to do so; there is a sadness in your smile when you gently trail your fingers over the crease of his scar, “We both lost something that night and have suffered for it ever since.”

Without another word, you press your lips to his and savor the groan your kiss pulls from him. His hands grab at your hips in the same instance yours card through his hair while your lips move together in a practiced rhythm. 

Impatient, one of your hands travels down his chest and stomach, though you hardly have time to pull at the hem of his dark tunic before he grabs your wrist, stopping you. 

“Aemond,” you huff, fighting against his grip. 

“Surely you don’t mean to defile this place in such a way,” he murmurs, violet eye sparkling as if he were challenging you, even as he glances over your shoulder, “What would your dear husband think?

You grin at the lecherous smirk on his lips, heart pounding in your chest as a familiar ache settles at the apex of your thighs. You give one final glance over your shoulder before turning back to him with a dismissive shrug. “Husband in name only,” you remind him, yanking your hand out of his grasp and trailing your fingers over the growing bulge beneath his trousers, “I have only ever been devoted to you.”

A rough growl leaves his lips and he clenches his jaw, narrowing his eye. “We will burn for this, sweet sister,” he huffs, pale cheeks flushing while he stares up at you, one hand still settled on your hip as the other comes up to cup your jaw. 

“The Seven can have their say,” your cunt clenches at the way he looks at you – surprise, lust, even reverence giving such an intensity to his gaze that it nearly knocks the wind from your lungs, “The Old Valyrian Gods can as well, I don’t care. Aemond, I don’t.”

Your hand finally, blessedly, pulls free the ties at the top of his trousers and you quickly find his length. The sharp grunt that’s wrenched from his throat when your hand wraps around it echoes through the Sept, each iteration of it making the fire in your belly burn brighter and brighter. 

He doesn’t attempt to stop you when you plunge a hand beneath the fabric of your black skirts and hastily tug your smallclothes out of the way, he merely studies you in awe, as if watching a newly hatched dragon spread its wings for the first time. His gaze makes you shiver, though you dare not look away.

“What do you care about, little one?” He murmurs suddenly, unable to help himself from glancing between your bodies, licking his lips while he watches you use your fingers to prepare yourself as you rub your own slick through your folds. 

“You,” you whisper, shuddering at the way you both gasp at the same time when you rut against his already throbbing length, “You are the only god I’ve ever worshiped, big brother.”

A loud groan bursts free of his lips at that and the hunger in his eye nearly catches you alight, and yet he still grabs at your hips tightly, preventing you from sinking onto his length – so out of his element, wholly unused to being taken in such a way. “Come, let us go to my chambers,” he tries, breathing your name against your neck as he leans up, “Where I can take you properly, hm? No risk of anyone interrupting…”

Undeterred, you simply shake your head and lean forward, pressing your lips against his in an eager, near feral kiss. It’s mostly teeth and tongues and thankfully, it’s enough to shock him into loosening his grip, just enough for you to take what you want. You bite at his bottom lip when you sink down onto his length, hard enough to taste iron, making him growl into the kiss, the sound of it deepening to a low groan at the feel of your tight cunt around him. 

The feel of his cock stretching you open somehow only gets better each time and leaves you gasping in his lap, your hands grabbing at his shoulders for leverage while you begin grinding yourself against him, impatient and ravenous. “Ohh, f-fuck,” you curse, squeezing your eyes shut while your walls flutter around him. 

Aemond’s chest heaves under your hands while he stares up at you, lips parted ever so slightly as breathy groans spill, unbidden, from them. Opening your eyes, your gaze is immediately drawn to a little smear of red beside his mouth and you lean forward – licking his pale skin clean without a second thought. 

“Little minx,” he smirks, meanly grabbing at your hips again and bucking up into you. He huffs a soft laugh at the sharp moan that bursts from you, sounding louder still in the large open space of the Sept; there’s a dangerous, challenging gleam in his eye that makes you shiver. “Go on, then,” he rasps, trailing a hand up from your hip to cup the underside of your breast, his touch warm even through the bodice of your gown, “Worship your god.”

A soft, stuttered moan wrenches itself from your lips at that and you quickly obey, staking your claim over him. As you find your rhythm, rutting wildly in his lap, the only sounds echoing off the walls are that of panted breaths and the slick, wet noises from where the two of you connect. “You’re mine,” you breathe, leaning forward to bite at his throat, determined to mark him in as many ways as possible, “Y-You’ve always been mine, Aemond.” 

He nods his head, hands scrambling at the ties on your bodice, determined to free your breasts. “I’m yours?” He taunts, sighing victoriously when he finally manages to practically rip the top of your gown open; his tongue darts out, wetting his lips at the sight of them and he allows himself a few seconds to appreciate the way they bounce so enticingly with each of your determined movements, “Show me, then… show me who I belong to, sweet sister.”

Something snaps inside you then, breaking and clicking perfectly into place all in the same breath; the feeble thing that was holding the dam inside of you shut disappears. Whatever greedy darkness Aemond has always harbored within himself has been slowly seeping into you since the night of your betrothal feast and now, it seems, it has finally settled into your bones as well. It’s as if he can sense it in the same instance you do and gives a subtle nod of his head, commanding you to give in. 

With renewed vigor, you grind against him harshly, pressing your hips as far down onto him as you can manage until you can feel his cock pressing against the entrance to your womb. The thought of him there, of the possibility of his seed catching, of the possibility that it may already have, spurs you on further. 

“I would kill for you, too,” you say lowly through clenched teeth, licking up the side of his neck until you can whisper into his ear, “I’ll do anything to have you, my love, I don’t care what it is.”

A low groan reverberates from within his chest, both of you all but snarling as you move together; his hips rut up against yours, unable to hold still any longer, and he bites a path down your neck until he reaches the softness of your breasts. You gasp as he teases at one nipple, flicking at it with the tip of his tongue while his fingers toy with the other one, only to cut yourself off with a loud moan when his lips seal around it. 

“I would burn this city to the fucking ground if that’s what… what it took, brother,” the words tumble from your lips when you card your fingers through his hair, cradling the back of his head and holding him against your chest. Your head tilts down, heart pounding in your chest while you watch him savor the feel of your warm flesh in his mouth; his violet eye snaps up and his gaze bores into yours, making your cunt clutch greedily at his length. 

Feeling the knot building quickly in your belly, aided by the way your sensitive pearl brushes against the small patch of hair at the base of Aemond’s cock, you only grow more needy – craving confirmation that he is yours, that no one will be able to take him from you again. Your breath catches in your throat when you recall a conversation the two of you had had a few nights ago, the night of Jace’s death.

The two of you had been cuddled in your bed together, panting in sweat-damp sheets, when he had cupped your cheek and turned your face to his. 

“What is it?” You asked, familiar with the faraway look in his eye – God’s knew where he could’ve been in that moment.

“Marry me.”

His whispered demand had knocked the air from your lungs then, the whole world may as well have come to a grinding halt on its axis. “Aemond, we must wait, you know this. I hate it as much as you do but –”

“We need to wait for a Westerosi wedding, yes,” he murmured, leaning over you and shushing you with a soft kiss, “Too soon and it looks suspicious.”

“But –”

“But… a wedding in the tradition of our house need not wait, little one,” the determination in his eye had shocked you then, had warmed you from the inside out, “Our sister and her cunt of a husband hardly waited until Laena and Laenor were cold before they married… we could do the same.”

You had stayed quiet after that, too much death and change and uncertainty clouding your mind to give him an answer, and yet you knew he was right. Rhaenyra and Daemon had married in secret, so soon after Laenor’s sudden passing that it had always seemed a bit odd to you. Yet, no one ever questioned it; your own father had accepted it without so much as a blink, writing the marriage into law with no fuss. Aegon would do the same for you, you felt certain. 

Nothing was stopping you, nothing that mattered, anyway. 

That thought fuels you now as you rock on Aemond’s lap, both of you barreling toward your eventual ends. Your fingers tighten in his hair, tugging him away from your breast despite his growl of displeasure. Just as he had with you, you cup his cheeks, focusing his attention on you. 

“Marry me.”

The rhythm of his hips hitches at your words and he fucks up into you harshly, moving you more desperately against him as another loud, guttural moan echoes through the chamber. 

“Tonight,” you continue, brows furrowing as you stare at him, greedily drinking him in, “I cannot wait any longer, brother, tonight, please…” 

A vicious, conquering smirk grows on his lips, white teeth gleaming in the low candlelight like a snarling dog. “You wish to be mine, is that it?” He teases, reaching between your two writhing bodies to rub hungrily at your pearl, savoring the pretty breathy moans he earns. 

You’re shaking your head before he can even finish speaking as an unrelenting, all consuming possessive ache starts spreading out from your heart, flowing through your blood vessels like fire. “I don’t wish it,” you pant, forehead resting against his while the wildfire burning in your belly threatens to burn you whole, “I told you, I would kill for you and… and, fuck, I swear it. A-Aemond, no one will have you ever again, never, none except me…”

Your words descend into a barely intelligible murmur as you finally let go, pushed suddenly over the edge at the thought of being so tightly bound together that no one would be able to tear the two of you apart again. Your brother growls again at the feel of your cunt pulsing around him, the movements spurring him toward his own end. 

He grabs at you when he follows you into oblivion, holding you against him as if you’d disappear otherwise. The feel of his spend spilling into you, filling you, nearly sends you over the edge again and you cling to him just as harshly, holding him while he trembles beneath you. 

“You are a vicious little thing,” he says softly after some minutes, holding you against his chest while the two of you catch your breaths.

“I learned from the best.”

He only sighs at that but you don’t need to look at him to know he’s smiling. “I would do it again for you,” he mumbles, eye fixed on Jace, “I would do it a thousand times over.”

He speaks in a reverent whisper, promises of death and destruction as sweet as a prayer on his lips. 

Aemond’s hand is warm in yours as he leads you through the winding corridors below the Red Keep, the flickering light from the torches lining the walls making the various statues and reliefs dance in your periphery. 

“I’ve always hated that he’s down here, stowed away,” he murmurs, yet his voice still carries some among the stone hallways.

“Mm,” you hum in agreement, glancing into each shadowy alcove you come across while you try to ignore the wild beating in your chest – the way your heart clenches at the thought of finally being so close to what you’ve always wanted. “Yes, he should be out in the sun, somewhere he can be celebrated.”

The old cellars under the Keep have always seemed so haunting to you, so cold and empty. The thought of the walls down here being lined with the ashen remains of generations upon generations of your ancestors had never failed to send a shiver down your spine. Yet, they unfold before you now like paradise; even the still, musty air begins to smell as sweet as honeyed wine. 

For the briefest of seconds, guilt joins you – walks alongside you, invisible like the Stranger. A stuttered heartbeat, that’s all and then it’s gone, at the thought that Jace would join them tomorrow, still warm from Vermax’s fire. 

How ironic, you think, glancing up at your brother and admiring the way the light gleams on his sapphire eye, That a place that holds so much death would be where our lives finally begin.

“I don’t want to wait any longer,” you’d said again, retying your bodice while Aemond tucked himself back into his trousers and searched for his eyepatch.

“Nor do I,” he agreed, stuffing the small scrap of fabric into a pocket – the streets of King’s Landing would be deserted enough at this time of night that he could get away without wearing it. “Tensions are bound to rise after tomorrow, after everything is said and done; I don’t want to leave anything to chance.”

You had nodded and followed him out of the Sept, through one of the many old, forgotten tunnels that only a scant few knew existed, the list of which definitely didn’t include the guards stationed at the front of the building who had escorted your carriage earlier that evening. 

While he had helped you onto the back of his horse, the two of you shared a knowing look, each of you already thinking the same thing. 

Turning down one final corridor, your heart thuds in your chest as you’re finally met with Balerion’s petrifying gaze and, just like every other time you’d been in his presence, a little huff of reverence leaves you. Your eyes dance over the rows of his razor sharp teeth, gleaming in the glow of dozens of candles, and you can’t help but imagine the horrors those jaws have inflicted, the pain they wrought while subduing the continent – all in your family’s name. 

“Targaryens have always taken what we’ve wanted,” Aemond murmurs beside you, staring up at the gargantuan skull with just as much respect as you are, “Tamed our desires in fields of fire.”

“And rivers of blood,” you turn your heads at the same time, soft smiles on your lips when your eyes meet, like you’re sharing sweet words of love rather than painting pictures of horrors. 

Perhaps that is what wrath is for us, you wonder, your eyes flicking between violet and sapphire when you turn toward your brother, What is death if not the sweetest of devotions?

He takes your hands in his, glancing down when your fingers intertwine before looking back up at you; you can feel yourself blushing under his intense gaze, heart squeezing in your chest as he looks at you like that in and of itself is an honor. There’s such softness in his eye, you would think him incapable of violence if you didn’t know better. 

“You truly wish for this?” He questions one last time, needing to be sure. 

“I’ve told you, I do not wish,” your hands squeeze his, “I need this, Aemond… I would kill for you, for this – for us. Anything, just as you did.” 

Your voice trembles when you speak, the intensity of your hushed promises making your head spin because you would. The want you feel, that you have always felt, is not some soft yearning thing. It’s not so simple as some mere whisper uttered in the dead of night at a holy altar while your skin is awash with the glow of candlelight, no. 

No, your want is something far more insidious – something deep-seated. An oppressive, clinging thing that has always coaxed you further and further down into that shadowy part of yourself; the part that has always reminded you too much of him. 

The demon, lurking in your periphery, that has always begged you to look, has tempted you since childhood with the sweetest of promises, finally rejoices. 

Aemond nods, a satisfied smile pulling at the corner of his lips, and you watch as he lets go of one of your hands to unsheath his dagger. The sight of the worn leather handle makes you smile bashfully, though your core clenches all the same, and you gasp when you feel another drop of his seed soak into your smallclothes. 

“You know the words?”

Again, he nods and your head cocks to the side curiously when a wash of pink grows on his pale cheeks; he smiles again and fixes you with that same intense stare. “I used to spend hours reading them, over and over, when we were children,” he whispers, leaning closer to you like he’s revealing some deep, dark secret, “I always wanted to get them perfect for you.” 

A little peal of laughter echoes through the cellars before you swallow thickly, trying to tamper the tightness at the back of your throat as the backs of your eyes sting, tears pooling in your waterline. He cups your cheek and you smile when he brushes one away, a pleased hum leaves his lips when you nod. 

Aemond raises the dagger, glancing between its shining blade and your lips while you ready yourself, one hand clenching at the black silk of your skirts. “I’ll be gentle,” he promises. 

You hold stock-still, gasping when he presses the cool edge of it against your lower lip, yet your eyes don’t leave his when he finally cuts – nicking your delicate flesh just enough to draw blood before offering you the dagger. Grasping it, you mirror his steps exactly, just as careful with him. 

Setting the dagger to the side, you both reach up at the same time, swiping a thumb over your own lip before reaching out. Your arms intertwine when you brush each other’s foreheads, leaving behind two crimson lines. 

His gaze never breaks from yours as he takes the blade again and carefully cuts his palm, holding it out to you again and waiting while you do the same, gasping at the sharp sting. Finally, the two of you join hands, blood mingling together as a few drops of it splatter on the stone floor as Balerion bears witness to your union. 

“Hen lantoti ānogar, va syndroti vāedroma, mēro perzot gīhoti, elēdroma iārza sīr,” he recites, murmuring the words with care, making sure to enunciate each syllable, to make the vows unmistakeable to whichever ghosts may be listening, “Izulī ampā perzī, prūmī lanti sēteksi, hen jeny māzīlarion,” (Blood of two, joined as one, ghostly flame, and song of shadows. Two hearts as embers, forged in fourteen fires, a future promised in glass.)

Aemond pauses, taking a breath as he squeezes your hand with his, echoing your smile.

“Qēlossa ozūndesi, syndroro ōñō jēdo, ry kīvia mazvestraksi,” he finishes, all but breathing the last few words as his eye grows misty. (The stars stand witness, the vow spoken through time, of darkness and light.)

The two of you stand still for a moment like you’re waiting for the world to crash down around you and you can feel his heart beating in time with yours as your palms press together, both of you seemingly in shock at finally, finally having everything you’ve ever wanted. 

You can’t tell who moves first but suddenly you’re crashing against him, dagger clanging as it hits the floor, while the two of you clutch at one another desperately, uncaring of the blood smearing on your clothes. 

Your lips press against his like they’re a lifeline and you moan at the touch, swiping your tongue over his while you grab at the lapels of his jacket. His hands cup your cheeks, staining one with red, before carding through your hair. 

“Gods,” he groans, resting his forehead against yours while the two of you pant, breathing out soft laughs. “My little wife…” He says the word slowly, lets it drag over his tongue. 

“Husband,” you reply between soft kisses to his cheek, head spinning at how a word that once had to be dragged from you, that had scraped against your skin like thorns, now felt like silk slipping cooly over you. 

Your brother growls deep in his chest and his eye flutters shut for a second before his hands are at your waist again and he’s walking you backwards, only a few paces, until you’re pressed against one of the stone columns surrounding the great dragon’s skull. Though your landing is soft, it wrenches a gasp from you all the same but you don’t have time to question his intent before his lips are on yours again.

You moan into the kiss, matching each of his deep groans with one of your own as your tongues tangle together. “Aemond,” you pant when he begins trailing kisses down across your jaw and neck, “What –”

He nips at your cleavage then and you can feel him smirking at the loud whine he pulls from you, soothing the skin after with a sweet kiss before sinking to his knees before you. The sight is enough to make you weak – the man that loves you more than eternity itself, who loves you enough to do terrible, monstrous things, kneeling at your feet and staring up at you like you are his salvation. 

Your hands tangle in his soft hair while he pulls at your skirts, pushing them up and out of the way, kissing your thighs as he goes. “You had the chance to worship at your altar, sweetest little wife,” he pants, groaning when he pushes your smallclothes to the side and licking his lips at the sight of your cunt, still wet with your combined spend, “Now let me worship at mine.”

That’s the only warning you get before he dives in, lapping at your center with a loud, satiated growl. Your head thuds back against the column while your eyes are fixed, half-lidded, on Balerion, on the fire that surrounds him. 

You understand, then – the curtains of fire that blanketed the continent were necessary to conquer it, just as blood was necessary to bind the two of you. Perhaps one day you’ll be called to answer for that, but even then you would do it a thousand times over; even if the dark, shadowy parts of yourself, of him, lead to the deepest pits of the Seven Hells. You would do it, again and again, for him. 

You were always meant to burn together.

thank you for taking the time to read! hope you enjoyed! :)

consider adding yourself to my tag list or check out my works on ao3!

[ki-irke]

hii can you write a fluff with Jackson Avery? ♡ I don't have any specific in mind so have fun! and don't worry to do mistakes, it's normal ♡

Exhausted

Paring: Jackson Avery x reader

Summary: Working for 46 hours straight is definitely not healthy.

A/N: I don't have a good feeling about this, but here you go. Writing in english was much harder than i was thinking lmao

You were at the shift for the past 46 hours.

You didn't have time to eat, drink or even get some sleep. Still, you agreed to take your friend's shift. You knew it's not healthy to work this much without getting any sleepi and surviving on mint gums, energy bars and drinks. One of your interns, Max, was with you almost all the time, and she was trying to get you to eat a proper meal and sleep for at least one hour.

"I can't, Max. I have too many surgeries to have time for myself" I said, going through one of my patient card.

"At least eat a proper meal, y/n!" they sighed. "Weren't you supposed to have lunch with Dr. Avery?" she asked, leaning against the counter.

"I was, but he forgot about one of his surgeries." I answered. Before Max could answer, my pager went on. "Come on, Shepherd need some help at surgery".

~~~

The surgery was going surprisingly great.

"How are u feeling?" Derek asked, not looking away from the patient.

"Good. What about you?"

"Good. It's a beautiful day" He smiled and spare a glance at me.

"Good to know." I said. "It looks okay now. I just need to stitch him."

"I told you it's a good day" He said again, making me smile a little. I started to stitching the patient, when I felt a little weak.

"Max, finish stitching for me, please." I said giving away needle.

"You okay, Dr. y/l/n?" she asked. I moved back a bit, so I wouldn't accidentally hit something.

"Excuse me." I said politely, before fainting.

"Take here to the emergency room and page Dr. Grey" Shepherd said. One of the nurses paged Meredith, while one of Shepherds interns lift y/n up. "And maybe page Dr. Avery too".

~~~

I woke up feeling better. My headache was gone, and I wasn't this much affected by light as before. I slightly move my numb hand and I looked around. I was at the emergency room, but I didn't know why.

"You fainted in the OR" I looked up to see Jackson, standing in front of my hospital bed with his arms crossed.

"Oops" I simply said, making him roll his eyes.

"Don't 'oops' me. Max told me that you weren't eating properly, drinking and getting sleep" He says, visibly angry by my behavior.

"Sorry." I say quietly. He sighed and sit on a chair by my bed.

"Just… Just please don't do this again, okay?" He asked, running his hand through my hair. I smiled.

"I'll try."

"Try? Fucking no. You have to –" I interrupted him by kissing him. As he started kissing me back, I smiled into his lips. We moved away from each other, when I saw Max going over to us.

"I wanted to see how you are, but I think I'm interrupting something here" She laughed, while I get slightly red.

"I'm feeling good enough to work again." I say, getting ready to leave the bed, when Jackson grab my hand and pulled my back.

"You're not going to work again, you're going home."

"Good. See ya later, Dr. y/l/n." Max smiled and left.

"You know, I feel good. I can work again" I said, trying to convince him to let me stay.

"No way. We're going home."

"Mhh, if you're going with me, I can't say no" I smiled as I get close to him to kiss him again.

[stupidlovergirl]

Affection Points, +100!

Kabedoning them! Feat. Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor

Dev Notes: I love this trope so much, and wanted to write one myself. I am cringe but I am free.

Lucifer became your victim while you two were walking past each other in the House of Lamentation. You called his name and as he turned around, you slammed your hands, successfully trapping him between you and the hallway. He looks at you and scowls.

“What is this about, little human” he says, glaring down. You just smile, and press a kiss to his lips. His eyes widen for a brief moment, before he returns it. He manages to flip you two, where you were against the wall before you knew what was happening.

He pins smirks down at you, eyes predatory.

“If that’s all, then I must take my leave. It would be best for you to come when I call you later tonight, though” He tells you, and then walks off like nothing happened.

You - 0 Lucifer - 1.

You and Mammon were walking down the hallways of RAD as he prattled on about the new scheme he had. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to listen, but your headache was really making you irritable. Finally, you just had enough.

 “Mammon,” is all you say as you approach him, pushing him towards the wall, pinning him to it.

“I love you, but please, pipe down” you tell him. Before kissing him on the lips. You walked off to your class, leaving a sputtering demon who was processing all that happened in such a small amount of time. You had already made it to the end of the hallway before you heard him yell out “You can’t do that human!” 

You smiled and went on your way

Leviathan was a tricky one to catch. You knew you couldn’t do it in public, unless you wanted him to blue screen. So, after a gaming session with him, you chance was given when he stood up to grab a drink. 

“What do you want?” he asks, turning to his mini fridge, “I have energy drinks, water, and-”

You swiftly stood up, and pinned him to the wall beside it. “ I just want you,” you said with a smirk.

You watched his brain actively short circuit and yelp. His face was completely red, and he couldn’t help but cover his face.

“You- you can’t just do that!” He cries out, and it makes you smirk wider. Pulling his hand down, you get closer. “I can do whatever I want, sweetheart” you coo, and then pressed a kiss to his lips. You pulled away after a little, and heard a thud, seeing the boy on the ground.

“Levi? Are you alive?” you ask, worried you might have overdone it

“Rebooting” is all he can strangle out, curling onto himself.

Oops, you definitely broke him.

Satan is easy to catch, but you gotta mentally prepare yourself. He’s smooth, and will easily turn this on you. So when you spot him in the library, back turned and reaching for a book, you take a chance. You go behind him, and place your hands on the bookshelf behind him. He turns, with barely enough room. 

“Hey” you say simply, smiling at him, “Come here often?” Satan chuckles at your antics, deciding to play along with whatever silly game you're playing.

“I do, actually. Why do you ask?”

“Cause I wanted to check you out.” You say with a wink, and kiss him. He smiles in the kiss, returning it quickly. You spent the rest of the day reading the book he was grabbing, but you were more focused on him.

Asmodeus had dragged you to one of his modeling gigs. It was fun at the beginning, but it was taking so long, and you 're getting bored of waiting for it to be done. They had decided to take a break, let him walk around. He came to see you, and dragged you to the snack table. You listened to him tell you about the brand, and how he liked the way they made the pieces from this collection. He kept talking, then you got a bright idea. You got in front of him, walking him to the wall behind him. When his back bumped it, your arms shot up, caging him in.

“Oh! You’re so forward!!” He squealed, smiling at you, “What do you plan on doing? I hope you don’t eat me” he tells you in a flirty tone, a wink following soon after. You just laugh at his antics, pressing a fleeting kiss to his lips.

“Don’t want to mess up your makeup, do we?” you say, backing off from him. He pouts at this, rolling his eyes. 

“You tease! I’ll get you for that later” is all he says with a smile.

Yup, prepare yourself for Asmo’s barrage of affections after the shoot.

Beelzebub is quite the tall guy, so good luck. You decided to do it on the way back from one of his Fangol practices. He was munching down on a snack you had brought him, while you were telling him about your day. Once you see him finish his snack, you decide to set your plan in action, grab him by the hand and lead him into an alley, and “push” him against the wall of a building. He just looks down at you, curious.

“What are you doing?” he asks, tilting his head like a puppy. 

“Looking at the prettiest boy in the world” you reply, trying not to giggle.

“Oh.” 

You stood there for a second more. Then, pulled him down for a kiss. He easily complied with your actions, and as your lips met, you could feel his hands on your waist. When you pulled away, Beel was beaming at you.

“I wouldn’t mind doing that again” 

You laugh, and go in for another kiss.

Belphegor is hard to catch standing some days, so that is a difficulty all on its own. On a lucky chance, you catch him on his way to your room. He was about to open the door when you caught him. You swiftly close the door, and slam your arms by his shoulders as he turns.

“What are you doing” he asks boredly, a yawn escaping

“Wondering why you are trying to enter my room when I’m not there”

He rolls his eyes in response, “To sleep” he responds simply

“I don’t think I allowed that”

“I don’t care,” he responds.

“Well, you’ll care now” you say, faking an angry voice. Then, you pull him down for a kiss, a surprised noise escaping him. He returned it lazily, not making any moves to make it more than a simple kiss. While he was dazed, you slipped into your room.

You heard him grumble when he realized you ran off. You chuckled quietly when he walks in complaining about your actions.

[idyllcy]

oops... i got married || TO MY COLLEGE PROF???

word count: 2.6k || Fic 1 of oops... i got married

summary: There is no way you just woke up married to your college prof. God. At least he's hot?

You get married as a joke.

Yes, there are limits to how much you can drink. Yes, there are limits to how insane you can get while drunk— but apparently getting married is not within that limit. You get married to some random guy— NOT SOME RANDOM GUY. YOU GET MARRIED TO YOUR COLLEGE PROFESSOR. You wake up to a legally signed marriage document and your college professor in your kitchen, and you blink at the red booklet in your hands and then at your professor at the door.

"You're going to be late for class."

"Oh. My. God." You hold your head as a headache splits you open. "that hurts."

Cael steps next to you, bowl of soup in his hand, and you blink at him.

"Oh my god."

"You've say that once already." He mumbles, holding the spoon to your lips after he blows on it. "Drink up."

You open your mouth to drink, still blinking in mild confusion when you finish the soup, brain only processing then whether or not you have clothes on. You touch yourself, sighing in relief when you notice that it's just a change of pajamas. It would be the end of the world... or, well, it wouldn't. You suppose there are worse situations than getting married to your hot professor... wait. Should there be an age gap tag on this?!

You take Cael's hand as he helps you up, and he blinks at you, tilting his head.

"Come on. You have class."

"Isn't it Saturday?"

"It's Monday."

"Don't we get Monday off?"

"That was last Monday." 

You scream, blinking at the clock, taking your clothes from Cael's hand (you have no idea when he got the clothes) and change, rushing out of the house as Cael locks the door behind you, following behind you as you rush through the college gates. Cael nods at the security guard— something that the two of you live in a pattern of regardless of whether or not you're married. You find it strange. Yes, you would not have asked Cael to marry you while sober, but it's also questionable. You wonder in what universe you fall for a man several times your age and ask him to marry you while plastered.

"So? Did you do anything after last night?" William brushes up next to you, peeking over your shoulder at you. "I saw someone bring you home. Lowkey, he was kind of hot. His hair was up and everything."

"Yeah." You pause. For the plot? For the plot. "I got married to him."

"WHAT." William screams, and the professor raises a brow in annoyance at him, making him sink back into his seat. "You got married to some random man!?"

"Yeah..." You avert your gaze. "I'll tell you in a bit. Let me take notes—"

"You never take notes!" William gasps. "No fucking way."

"Someone's going to beat my ass if I go home without any notes again." You avoid Cael's gaze from the front of the lecture hall, and go back to clicking on your laptop. "you know?"

"Oh my god." William blinks. "Please tell me I did not just put two and two together. Is this your only lecture of the day? Are you going home with your husband later?!"

"I don't know what you're talking about." You avoid the topic, choosing to ignore William for the rest of the lecture, and bolting for the door as soon as class is dismissed. William yells at you for being a coward and to face him, and you rest by the car as you wait for Cael to return. You sit in the car, resting your head on the wheel with a groan as you click through your phone. At some point, you grow tired, eyes growing heavy as you decide to doze off. You wonder where Cael is... you have a feeling that he's going to get here the second you knock out. You blink slowly, and then stare at Cael's face leaning over the door of your car.

You roll the window down after jumping in your skin.

"Why didn't you knock?!" You panic, eyes wide as you let Cael into the car. "What if you got caught?!"

"Caught by who? My fanclub?" He holds up a bag with drinks in it, humming. "Come on. I'll heat up the milk tea for you when we get home. Don't even think about touching it while it's cold."

"It's not cold!" You gape in faux offense. "I can drink it! Who did you even get it from?"

"My fanclub." He hums, pulling a drink out and stabbing a straw through it. "Drink up."

You take it from his hand as he secures his seatbelt, starting the car as you pause. "So... are we going to talk about being legally married?"

"We can talk about that at home." Cael hums. "Want me to drive?"

"No. It's my car." You grumble, driving out the parking lot as you wait to merge onto the street. "What exactly happened?"

"You got plastered and somehow managed to convince me to sign the marriage certificate you were holding up." Cael pauses. "I was also partially drunk."

"You drank? Who drove us home?"

"We rode the subway."

"Damn." You mumble. "That's crazy. I can't believe you said yes. I would've expected you to say no."

"Well..."

"..." You pause, slowing down at the red light. "drunk man words are sober man thoughts."

"Don't say that to me."

"Oh my god." You mumble. "You're in love with me."

Cael chooses to stay quiet, and you reach over to grab his thigh, laughing as you step on the gas.

"My husband is in love with me!!!" You laugh, squeezing him affectionately as you continue to drive. "Does that mean you won't get divorced with me?"

There's a considerable silence before he speaks up. "Did you think I was going to divorce you?" 

"Maybe." You mumble. "Just a little."

"I wouldn't have agreed had I not liked you to some extent." He mumbles, resting his hand on top of yours. 

"Oh." You pause, another considerable silence passing over the two of you. You blink slowly even when the two of you reach your apartment, and suddenly, it's almost as if his words have just clicked. He likes you. Your college professor likes you. Wait.

"There's got to be some sort of questionable age gap between the two of us." You deadpan.

Cael raises a brow, and you pout. "You're in your last year."

You pause. "True... but you better have not liked me for four years. Isn't it weird to fall for a student anyway? Or did you fall for me because we're neighbors?"

"A mixture of everything." He hums, resting his forehead on yours. "If you keep talking, I may just not cook dinner."

"I can live with instant noodles."

"I can't." He pinches your skin gently. "Shall we have dinner?"

You find that being married to Cael is fun. You get to watch him grade everyone's tests and snoop through his stacks of papers and laptop to see whether or not you can find the next test's answers, and your answer is almost always the same file with a password you can never crack in time before Cael inevitably finds you trying to cheat again. You wonder why he doesn't just report you to the dean, but you don't find it in yourself to care, lips pulled into a pout as he tells you to just study. Easy for him to say.

Maybe he's so old that he just forgot that senioritis happens in college too. 

Yet, he cares in his own way, warm drink next to you as you work through the copious amount of work that you're given in your upper-division courses, head spinning and annoyed over everything. He points out mistakes in your paper, glasses resting on the bridge of his nose, lashes batting slowly as he corrects your essays with a click of his tongue. You pout at him when he does, but he does not make any change in habit. As long as you get a good grade, you suppose. 

Then, your grade comes back, and you are set to graduate. 

You rush home to show Cael the grade on your phone, arms thrown around him as you beam. He runs his hand down your back affectionately, lips pressed to the temple of your head sweetly as he congratulates you. You hum, head resting on his shoulder as you hum. "I should pay you back."

"How about wearing a ring?"

"We have these." You pout at the cheap one on your finger.

"We both know I can afford to buy you a better one." He hums, playing with the ring on your finger. "Shall we go ring shopping in celebration?"

"How is that me paying you back?"

"You're paying me back by spending more time with me." He hums. "That is my request. Let us go buy a ring together."

"Is that all?" You hum.

"We can spend the rest of the day shopping too."

"Alright..." You mumble. "We should go shopping for your clothes. Your wardrobe needs a little updating."

"Yeah?"

"And don't fight me for the bill on your clothes."

"Is that how you're going to pay me back?"

"Yep." You pop the p for emphasis, pressing a kiss to his cheek as you hop off his lap. "We'll take my car so we don't need to haul shopping bags back on the subway."

"Very well."

Cael sits back and lets you pick his outfits, your thoughts put before his as you discuss with the store clerk how to make him the hottest man on campus. He wonders if you just simply don't have a single jealous bone in your body. He doesn't like it when people get too close to you. His brows furrow ever so slightly as your hand brushes the store clerk's when you take the outfit, and you furrow your brows slightly as you stare at the clothes and then at Cael.

"I don't want this color of tweed."

"What are you looking for?"

"Something like... classic. Beige. Picture beige baby but there is no baby and it's my husband." You pause. "Make him the hot guy in a trenchcoat at the campus coffee shop."

"I see the vision." The clerk gives you a thumbs up. "Just wait and see, young'in. We've got this."

You wave bye to Cael with a smile on your face, sitting in the waiting area as you scroll through your phone. You take photos and give a thumbs up and down depending on how good he looks in the clothes, and Cael finds that despite his stamina, he understands why you had looked so drained after shopping with him all those times. It's not that his body is tired— it's just that he can only wear so many outfits in such limited time.

On the last one, he opens the curtain of the dressing room, and your whole face perks up.

Ah. This one. You like this one the best.

"Shall we buy this one?" Cael raises a brow.

"I don't care if my scholarship money is going down the drain for this." You rip the tag from behind him as he crouches down slightly to help you rip it easier, and you scan and ring up the bill. He watches as you swipe your card without second thought, the vast majority of what he tried on going into bags as you carry them. Cael presses his lips to your forehead gently as a thank you, and you grin.

"Shall we get something to eat? My treat." He hums. 

"Not the rings?"

"I called my associate at another store." Cael hums. "I can take some of the bags—"

"No." You pout. "Let me."

"Well, I suppose it is a skill for you to be able to hold so many at once." He laughs. "Would you like a treat?"

"I'd like my ring." You bat your lashes at him with a grin. "I'll drive."

"Alright." He follows behind you, coat still on, hot on your trail as the two of you wait in the elevator to get down to the right level. He helps you open the trunk, and you hum happily. 

"Did you order a ring?"

"They're going to get you fitted." He hums. "And then you're going to pick a design out of all the ones I sketched out."

"Oooh..." You shut the trunk. "Romantic."

"Perhaps it would have been more romantic to actually propose with it."

"Well, we get a good story out of it." You smile at him as the two of you get in the car.  "What color is the ring going to be?"

"I've sketched it in every color you can think of."

"There is no way you did that."

He did.

You stare at the samples and then at the sketches Cael provided, and you blink slowly at your husband. 

"You pick."

The clerk gapes as Cael picks up the rings and tries them on you one at a time. He would get you all of them, but you would complain that it's a waste of his money. Though, he wouldn't really be spending much. He wonders when the next cheque for displaying his works is going to come in. That should be more than enough to cover the costs of the rings.

"Why not all?"

"I'm not comfortable with spending all of that money yet." You deadpan.

"Better get used to it." He hums. "These three."

You stare at the designs he picked, and he hums. "Turn these two into earrings instead."

"A pair or one of each?"

Cael glances at you, lips quirking up at the sight of your dropped jaw.

"One of each?" You blink at him in confusion. "One of each. Mix and match sounds fun."

Cael nods as the store clerk punches in the order. "Anything else you would like, sir?"

Cael shakes his head. 

"Wait, how about your wedding ring?"

"Oh, they have their counterparts." Cael flips the paper over, and your jaw drops. 

"Double the price?"

"Don't worry about it." He hums, tapping his card on the machine and covering your eyes.

"Oh, hey." You hum. "You finally figured out how to use a credit card?"

"Debit." He hums. "I had an account because they were paying me, but I just never applied for a card."

"Oh." You pause. "YOU'RE USING A DEBIT CARD?! HOW MUCH MONEY DO YOU EVEN HAVE?!"

"How old am I?"

You shut up after that.

Not arguing with a man who's older than the existence of the planet you're on. (a joke, really. He's only a decade or two older than you. Though, he definitely doesn't look it.) So, you stare at the ring on your ears in the mirror two weeks later, Cael's matching one on his pierced ear, leaning behind you, chest pressed to your back as he stares at the earring on your ear.

"Looks nice."

"Yeah?" Your neck creeps with warmth, and he presses his lips to your ear gently, standing straight again as the clerk hands him the bag with the earrings.

"Shall we get going, beloved?"

Your hand shakes as you take his, and you try and calm your racing heart.

Oh, god. This might've been the best decision you've ever made while drunk. ever.

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman-Part 24

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe : Military School

Words : 5k

Masterlist

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Thursday, December 17th; 7:00 PM - Ona and Alexia's Room.

I collapse face down on my bed as soon as I step into my room. All I can think about is being on vacation. It’s about to become reality. To be honest, I’m struggling to grasp that starting tomorrow, I’ll be home for two whole weeks. It feels strange, but it’s definitely going to do me good. These last few weeks have been intense, and I really need a break. I have a splitting headache from all the constant studying. It feels like a hammer pounding in my head without rest. I just got back from Bronze after studying for my last exam, which is tomorrow. I’m relieved to see the end in sight because it was turning into a real disaster. The pressure and anxiety of not succeeding took over, and I started working more than I should have. I felt like the study sessions at Bronze weren’t enough anymore. I became obsessed, to the point of breaking curfew multiple times to study late into the night. The lack of sleep started affecting my behavior. I became unintentionally aggressive, which caught the attention of my supervisor. She noticed the bags under my eyes and figured out what was going on. Let’s just say she gave me a good scolding. Her decision was final, no matter what I said. She took all my study materials out of my room to control my workload. She almost punished me, but she held back when she saw my state. Our relationship has taken another step forward. I think she’s changed since she asked me to call her by her first name outside of school. She’s more open than before. Sometimes, I even call her Lucy when our study sessions run late, and she doesn’t mind. It’s become much more pleasant to spend time with her. She’s reached the point where she can tell what I’m thinking or feeling just by observing me. It’s very unsettling to be read like that. When she realized my problem with studying, she immediately found the right words to reassure me. Ever since she took my things on Friday night, she’s been coming by my room every evening to make sure I get back into a good sleep routine. Still, I’m mentally exhausted. All these exams were too much, and I’m starting to miss my family. I haven’t seen them in a month, hence my eagerness for the holidays.

“Are you done with your revisions at Bronze?”

Alexia snaps me out of my drowsiness. I must have dozed off without realizing it because I didn’t even hear her come in. I groan when she flops down on my back without any consideration. She kisses my cheek before resting her head on mine. Without knowing it, Alexia has started to break down my boundaries around physical contact.

“I came to get you for dinner. You’re coming, right? The others are already there.”

“Yeah,” I mumble into my pillow. “I’m starving. But I’m coming back here afterward.”

“Don’t worry, I was planning on coming back here too.”

“Come on, get off me!” I say, wriggling. “I’m starving!”

I laugh as she teases me by pressing down on me even harder. She finally gets up, but not before giving my butt a playful slap.

“Hey!” I exclaim, feigning indignation.

“Oops,” she says with an innocent look.

I smile and roll my eyes. Without her, I would have probably sunk into a deep depression. I was so angry with Lucy that first night she took my stuff that I was mad at the whole world. Alexia was there that night, and since then, she hasn’t let a single evening pass without making me laugh. She helped me think about other things, and that’s how I came to understand Lucy’s actions. To succeed, I also needed to learn to let go and have some fun. And that’s what I’ve been doing with Alexia. We’ve relaxed a lot, and she even took the opportunity to share new stories from her childhood. I took the chance to tell her about my relationship with Mapi as well. I had promised her a while ago that I would talk about it, so I did. Alexia is someone I really appreciate. She’s strong, and she has such a contagious joy. With those thoughts in mind, we head to the cafeteria in good spirits.

“Have you heard from Mapi these last few days?”

“Not really. She’s also busy studying. Why?”

“Just wondering.”

I don’t press further as we enter the cafeteria. We grab our trays and join our friends who are already seated. I greet the people I haven’t seen yet today. Since our day in the snow, our group sometimes expands at meals with the addition of girls who joined the snowball fight the other day. That’s the case tonight with Ella and Alessia joining us. They’ve taken the usual spots where Ale and I sit, but we don’t mind and take the seats opposite them. Over time, I’ve learned that Alessia is actually Leah’s sister. I figured it wasn’t a coincidence that I get along so well with her. Looking back, I realize they have quite similar personalities. They’re both very calm and thoughtful. Alessia once confided that she thought I had a crush on her sister. I quickly reassured her that we’re just good friends and that it would never go beyond that. I focus on the conversation going around the table. It’s about our upcoming vacation. Everyone is really excited. I get it; I feel the same way. I’m starting to get impatient for tomorrow. I can finally breathe and see my loved ones again.

“Do you already have plans for New Year’s, Ona?” Alba asks me.

“Not really. I guess I’ll spend it with Mapi, but we haven’t talked about it yet.”

“See, I told you she’d already have something planned,” his sister comments.

“Well, technically, nothing’s set yet. Why?”

They exchange a knowing look before Leah decides to speak up.

“To be honest, we usually spend it together here in Manchester. We were hoping you’d join us if you didn’t have any plans.”

“Really? Where do you do it?”

“It’s at our place,” Alessia explains. “We live here, and our parents usually go celebrate New Year’s with their friends.”

“I see. Is this the first time you’ve done this?” I ask curiously.

“No, this will be the third year we’ve done it together,” Ale responds. “It’s the only holiday we can all spend together, so we make the most of it.”

I nod, understanding perfectly. This idea excites me a lot. It would be so cool to finally be able to spend an evening with them outside of school. It’s definitely better than spending a drunken night at Mapi’s friend’s place. Still, I don’t want to leave Mapi behind. We’ve barely spent any time together since I’ve been here. Besides, we’ve always celebrated New Year’s together ever since we met. I know she’s expecting us to spend this one together too. We don’t even need to talk about it to know that.

“I would love to come, but I can’t leave Mapi alone,” I share.

“Why don’t you bring her along?” Alba suggests.

“That’s true, it’s a good idea,” Ale adds. “I really want to meet her after everything you’ve told me about her. Do you think she’d agree?”

“I see why you suddenly asked if I’d heard from her,” I say with an amused smile.

“Yes, well,” she rolls her eyes with a knowing smile. “I wanted to know if you’d already talked about it. Seriously, would it be possible? It’s a bit of a crazy plan, but doable, right?”

“I don’t know. It’s going to be complicated. She has a girlfriend, and I doubt she’d want to celebrate without her,” I grimace. “I’ll ask her and see what she says. Anyway, I want to come, but not without her.”

“She seems important to you,” Lotte comments.

“Well… yeah. She’s my best friend, you know. She’ll always come first.”

“See, I told you she’d say yes,” Patri laughs. “It’ll be awesome if you come. You’re part of the group now.”

I smile sincerely at her. It’s true that I’ve really integrated into their group by now. They’ve been very welcoming from the start, unlike me, who only did things my way. Now, it’s very different. A real friendship has formed between them and me. I was about to respond when someone taps me on the head with an object that echoes above me. I instinctively duck my head to avoid the attack, even though it doesn’t really help. When I try to turn around to see who it is, two large hands on my shoulders stop me.

“What has Mapi done now?”

I relax and lean back against Lucy, recognizing her voice. I expected to see her tonight before curfew.

“Nothing,” I giggle. “We were talking about New Year’s.”

“Oh. I thought you’d heard from her.”

“Briefly this morning, to talk about tomorrow. By the way, she sends her regards,” I say, lifting my head to finally see her.

“That’s nice of her.”

“Yeah. Did you want something specific?”

“I wanted to return the pen you left on my desk. It would be a shame to take your last exams without it, right?”

I smile as I take it back when she dangles it in front of my nose. What would I do without her? Probably not much. I can’t say it’s my lucky pen because I don’t believe in that sort of thing. However, I’m the kind of person who doesn’t like to change their habits once I’ve found something that works for me. That’s exactly how it is with this pen. I would have been frustrated to have to use another one for my last exam.

“Oh, thanks! You didn’t have to. Are you also returning my notes?”

“You need to stop taking advantage of my kindness. I’ll give them back tomorrow.”

“What kindness?” I laugh. “I’m old enough to manage my own sleep schedule.”

“No, you’re not. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have taken your notes.”

I sigh, crossing my arms. Well, I can’t complain too much. It’s true that she’s become nicer than before, even though she still treats me like a kid in some ways. It’s really frustrating, but I guess I’m partly to blame. She knows why she’s keeping my stuff. I would have been tempted to study tonight otherwise.

“Fine, I’ve recovered,” I protest.

“Ona,” she scolds. “I should make you run laps to tire you out tonight.”

“Actually, I think I’ll be fine,” I grimace.

“That’s what I thought. Everything will be fine, anyway. You’re ready.”

“Yeah,” I sigh. “If you say so.”

“I do say so,” she confirms. “Alright, I’ll come by your room before curfew.”

“Wait,” I quickly try to stop her.

“What? Hurry up, Engen is waiting for me.”

I turn to see that, indeed, she’s waiting at their table. I’m not used to sitting with my back to them. I like being able to see Lucy when we’re eating at the same time.

“Ona?” she calls out.

“Sorry… Um… Actually, I have a headache. I was wondering if you could bring me an aspirin or something?”

“Is it just a headache?” she frowns.

I smile when she instinctively places her hand on my forehead. Since my withdrawal and the flu, she worries about every little thing I might have. Well, it’s true that I’m still a bit fragile, but not to that extent.

“I just have a migraine. It’s probably from the studying.”

“And you dare ask me to give back your notes?”

“Oh, come on,” I say, feeling my cheeks flush slightly. “Can you bring me something then?”

“I’m not a walking pharmacy, but I’ll bring you something later.”

“Cool, thanks! And enjoy your meal.”

"Thanks, same to you."

She ruffles my hair before heading back to her table. I place my pen on the tray and watch it for a moment. My smile widens at the thought that she really knows me well.

"Well, you've got quite the bond," Patri chuckles.

"Hmm, if you say so," I shrug.

"It's true," Ella insists. "You're the only student she treats like that."

"We also spend a lot of time together," I shrug again.

"That's for sure," Ale laughs. "You're with her more often than with me!"

"Yeah, anyway, can we get back to the New Year's topic? If you want, we can call Mapi together later," I suggest.

"Oh yeah! That's a great idea, that way we can ask her directly!"

"That's exactly what I was thinking."

Even from a distance, my best friend manages to be loved. I'll keep to myself the fact that Mapi was jealous of Ale at first. She joked about it, but I know she was genuinely jealous. Still, I have no doubt they would get along. They're both so wild when they want to be, and it could cause some real chaos.

"By the way, how does Bronze know her?" Ale arches an eyebrow.

I freeze at her question. Damn, I hadn’t thought about that. You can’t really say they know each other. They’ve only talked once when I had a rough night. Otherwise, it often happens that Bronze comes to my room when I’m on the phone with her on the weekends. So, they greet each other, and sometimes they even tease each other (usually about me).

"Oh, well, you know, we often talk on the weekends, so Bronze hears me talking to her," I shrug.

"Hmm, hmm," she replies skeptically. "I must be missing out on some interesting stuff on the weekends."

"Not really," I laugh nervously.

Great, Ona. Very convincing. If she knew I often sneak out of school thanks to Bronze, I have no doubt she’d have something to say about it.

"Well, I’m done. I’m going back to the dorm. I can’t stand my headache anymore."

"Yep, I’ll join you soon."

I nod and wish everyone else a good evening before leaving the table. I clear my tray and then head out to face the cold. I hesitate for a moment to take the emergency exit to get there faster, but Bronze would kill me if she found out. So, I force myself to take the main entrance. I regret this choice when I hear the noise coming from the common room. Someone forgot to close the door. It makes me realize how disrespectful students can be. They struggle to understand they’re not alone. I escape the noise by going upstairs to avoid worsening my migraine. When I get to the room, I decide to shower immediately so Ale will have space when she returns. In the meantime, she comes back to tell me that she changed her mind under the influence of the others and is heading back down to the common room for a bit. At least I’ll have some time alone. Or so I thought until I come face to face with Bronze as I’m leaving the bathroom.

"You scared me!"

"Sorry, I was looking for you," she smiles softly.

"No problem..."

"Here, for your migraine."

"Oh, thanks... Wait, let me find a sweater first, I’m cold."

"You’re not getting sick again, are you? You’re trembling like a leaf."

"I don’t think so. I’m just cold," I say as I grab a sweater from the closet.

The shower had warmed me up, but the room is cold compared to the sauna I created in the bathroom. Let’s just say that shorts and a T-shirt aren’t enough in these circumstances.

"Your lack of sleep probably isn’t helping."

"Stop blaming everything on that. Don’t forget I’ve only lived in hot countries."

"Hmm..." she says skeptically.

"Anyway, I’m on vacation starting tomorrow at eleven. I’ll have two long weeks to sleep."

"That’s true."

I first put down my phone and computer before going over to her to take the pillbox and a small bottle of water she thoughtfully brought me. I quickly swallow a pill with a few sips of water.

"Can I keep them?"

"Only the bottle. You know the rules."

She smiles at me sympathetically. It’s clear that it’s not safe to leave a pillbox with a former addict.

"It’s not like I’m going to get high."

"You could be capable of it. Now, give me the box."

I don’t argue and hand it back to her before slipping under my blanket. Without asking her opinion, I turn on my computer. I squint, noticing that Lucy doesn’t seem to want to leave.

"Are you planning to stay here for a while?"

"No."

She grabs my desk chair and places it between the two beds before sitting down. I look at her skeptically.

"I’d like to talk about tomorrow."

I frown, not understanding where she’s going with this. She leans back in the chair and crosses her arms.

"For two things. First, how do you feel about the exam?"

I sigh and shake my head. She’s not going to let this go. I had a moment of panic, and now she’s back on my case.

"I’m not trying to bother you. I can tell you’re stressed, which is why I’m asking."

"Who wouldn’t be stressed in my position? I’m a little bit, I admit. But it’s not because of the exam. Well, the dice are cast since it’s the last one... I’m scared because I don’t know if I’ve passed or not."

She nods understandingly. I bite my lip and look down. I feel ridiculous for being so worried over something so minor.

"Hey. No matter the result, you can’t say you didn’t give it your best shot. Okay?" she asks, placing her hand on my leg to get my attention.

"A little bit, maybe. I should have worked harder from the start."

"You were lost back then, and now you have regrets. That’s completely normal, but don’t forget that since then, you’ve pulled yourself together. You’ve made the necessary effort to catch up, so let me tell you... You have nothing to blame yourself for, understand?"

I sigh, nodding slowly. She always has the right words, it’s incredible.

"I get it... I’ll try not to torture myself over it anymore. What’s the second thing?"

"Your return home."

"Lucy," I groan. "I’ll behave, I promise."

"I’m just asking you to be reasonable, OK? Don’t feel obligated to go to parties if you don’t want to, and if there’s any issue—"

"I’ll come talk to you, I promise," I finish for her.

"Good," she sighs. "It’s time for you to sleep."

"No, please. I’d like to call Mapi first. I have something to sort out."

"Alright," she concedes. "You have half an hour. Then you turn everything off."

"OK."

"And in case you’re wondering, I plan to stay here to make sure of it."

"You can’t be serious," I groan. "I don’t need a babysitter."

"You’ll have to deal with it. I want to make sure you sleep on time tonight."

"Who says I won’t have a private conversation with Mapi?"

"Is that the case?"

"Not particularly... The others suggested spending New Year’s here with Mapi. I wanted to ask her about it. It’s a good idea, right?"

"Hmm," she says unconvincingly.

"At least you won’t be far if there’s a problem," I tease.

"I’ll probably have something better to do than look after you during that evening, you know."

"True... I thought you’d be happy about it," I say, opening the FaceTime app. "I’m at least reassured that you won’t be far."

"If you’re reassured, it means you still don’t trust yourself. Anyway, it’s definitely better than a party full of strangers."

"It’s not the best, that’s for sure. I’ve never really liked those kinds of places anyway," I shrug.

"Then why do you go? To put on a show?" she laughs.

"I don’t know. To have fun, I guess. Isn’t that what everyone does when they go to those kinds of places?"

"I guess. I don’t know. I’ve always found those parties stupid."

"Is it just me, or does this topic seem to annoy you?"

"It doesn’t."

I lift my head from my screen to smile at her. It does annoy her for some reason. I know she won’t elaborate, but she could at least be honest.

"You don’t want me going to those kinds of parties, do you?"

"I’d prefer you didn’t, indeed," she admits.

"Alright, you win," I roll my eyes. "If I stay in Barcelona for New Year’s, it’ll be my last party. Is that okay?"

"Wasn’t that already the plan? You promised me you wouldn’t go to any more parties after what happened last time."

Thinking about it, I realize she’s right. I’m not supposed to go to any more parties. I bite my lip, wondering how she managed to get her way. She has such an influence on me that it’s becoming scary. However, with her recent reaction, I can’t tell if it’s because she wants what’s best for me or because she has particular issues with parties. Maybe it’s both.

"I still get New Year’s, though... right?"

She rolls her eyes with a small smile.

"I told you to just be reasonable. Isn’t that clear enough?"

"Thanks..." I exhale. "You scared me for a moment."

"Use these holidays to clear your head and stop thinking about school."

"That’ll be hard. I’ll miss your orders."

"Be glad to be away from my demands. I must be annoying to you," she says, making me laugh. "What’s so funny?" she frowns.

- "I don’t find you annoying. You're just straightforward, and I was serious when I said I'm going to miss you. No one cares about me like you do. By the way, I hope I can write to you during the holidays..."

- "We'll see if I reply," she teases me.

A ringtone interrupts our conversation. I frown as I see an incoming call from my best friend. I was about to call her, but it's surprising that she's calling since we weren’t supposed to talk tonight.

- "Excuse me. I have to take this."

- "Go ahead, you’ve got fifteen minutes left," she reminds me.

I nod, pressing the green button and bringing the phone to my ear. With my other hand, I close my laptop, which is now useless.

- "Hey Maps, I was just about to call you."

- "Hey bonita," she replies in a small voice.

- "Oh! What’s wrong?"

- "Nothing, I just wanted to hear your voice. I miss you."

- "Don’t lie to me. I know you."

- "There’s nothing wrong."

- "Okay... if you say so..."

I squint as I see Lucy smiling. I nod to silently ask her what’s going on. In response, she just smiles wider.

- "What?" I say at the same time Mapi sighs.

- "Huh?"

- "Sorry, I wasn’t talking to you," I say, which makes Lucy laugh.

- "Are you with someone?"

- "Yeah... with Bronze. She’s playing babysitter."

- "Oh, I’ll let you go then."

- "No!" I quickly respond. "It’s not like she can hear you. Tell me what’s wrong. I know something’s up. I can feel it."

There’s a moment of hesitation where she stays silent. She takes a long breath. This is starting to worry me. Lucy seems to understand the situation from the way she looks at me. I suddenly sit up straight when Mapi bursts into uncontrollable sobs. If she’s crying, then something is really wrong. The only other time I’ve seen her cry was when I told her it was over between us.

- "Hey, Maps... What’s going on?" I say softly, not wanting to upset her.

- "Ana," she says. "She dumped me, Ona... Ana dumped me," she repeats desperately.

I part my lips in surprise. I didn’t see that coming... I regret not being by her side right now. Her sobs get louder, and there’s nothing I can do to calm her down. I can’t believe they’re no longer together. I really thought their relationship would last based on how she talked about her. I never really knew how she felt after I left, but hearing her now, I don’t even want to know. I run my hand over my face, trying to keep my composure.

- "Maps, I- It’s going to be okay, alright? I’m coming home tomorrow. I’ll be in Barcelona around eleven PM. You can come with Hector, or you can wait for me at home, okay?"

- "I really thought she was the one, Ona. I finally managed to have a serious relationship again, and she dumped me like trash. Damn it!"

I close my eyes, hearing the loud noise she’s making on the other end. I don’t know what she’s doing, but it doesn’t sound good.

- "Mapi..."

- "What’s going on?" Lucy asks me.

I sigh, covering the phone’s microphone to explain the situation to her. Lucy asks for my phone. I hesitate for a moment before giving it to her.

- "Hey Mapi, it’s Bronze."

I hate myself for doing this, but Lucy is definitely better at handling these situations than I am. I tend to be clumsy with my words and never know what to say. Unlike me, Lucy knows how to handle things. She does it with me, and now she’s doing it with Mapi. She’s calming her anger and reassuring her. It feels like I’m listening to her talk to me when I need her support. Lucy’s words seem to have the desired effect because I can’t hear Mapi yelling from where I’m sitting anymore. She continues talking to her before handing the phone back to me.

- "She wants to talk to you."

I quickly take the phone where I can already hear my best friend calling me.

- "Yeah, it’s me," I reply.

It seems like her crisis has passed. She’s still sniffling a bit, but she’s not crying anymore.

- "I understand why you think she’s so great."

- "I never used those words," I chuckle lightly to ease the situation. "But you’re right."

- "You don’t have to say it. It’s obvious when you talk about her."

- "Let’s not talk about that now. Are you going to be okay?"

- "Hmm," she sighs. "I have to be. I have one of my most important exams tomorrow. I just needed to hear your voice... I’ll come to the airport tomorrow. I want to see you as soon as possible."

- "Alright. I’ll tell Hector to pick you up then."

I see Lucy tapping her watch. She gave me thirty minutes, and I guess they’ve passed.

- "Are you going to stay over?"

- "Of course, if you don’t mind. I think I’ll need your arms, if it’s not too much to ask."

- "Of course not. Go rest now. Bronze wants me to hang up."

- "Bossy, huh?" she giggles slightly, which reassures me about her state. "I thought curfew was at ten PM? It’s only quarter past nine where you are, right?"

- "It’s complicated. I’ll explain when I get back."

- "Don’t tell me you’re having insomnia again?" she questions. "I thought it was over since you hadn’t mentioned it."

- "I was, but not for the reasons you think."

- "Hmm..." she replies skeptically.

Now’s not the time to talk about my problems, especially not in front of Lucy. For now, she’s the one who needs reassurance. I don’t want her to start feeling sorry for herself like I did.

- "I’ll see you tomorrow. Sleep well, Maps."

- "Goodnight, Onita. Thank you, and thank your supervisor too."

- "I was planning to. Kiss."

I hang up and place my phone on the nightstand. As for my laptop, I put it on the floor, too lazy to get up and put it in the cupboard.

- "Thanks... I didn’t know how to handle that."

- "It’s no big deal."

I don’t have time to reply as the door opens, revealing Alexia. She’s no longer surprised by Lucy’s regular presence.

- "I’m back," she says before grabbing pajamas from her closet. "Are we calling Mapi again?"

- "I just talked to her on the phone. I didn’t have time to ask her about New Year’s."

- "You can chat tomorrow morning. It’s time to sleep now, Ona," Lucy announces to me.

- "I’ll go take my shower then," Ale says. "Goodnight."

- "Goodnight," I reply.

I lie down in bed, looking at Lucy. I think I’m hallucinating when she takes my laptop and phone.

- "Don’t tell me you’re taking those with you?"

- "Yes. I should have thought of this earlier. Have you used them this week?"

- "Of course not," I groan. "You’ve checked on me every day!"

- "Hmm. Come on, I was serious. It’s time to sleep."

- "Are you planning to stay?" I’m surprised.

- "Yes. I want to make sure you sleep."

- "That’s ridiculous," I mutter. "You’re getting too serious about this."

- "Go to sleep."

I roll my eyes and eventually turn my back to her, wrapping myself in the blanket. The good thing is that my headache has finally gone. The bad thing is that Lucy’s presence is unsettling, even when I close my eyes. Sleeping is impossible. Especially with all the noise I hear when Alexia comes back into the room. She seems to be trying not to make any noise, but it’s not enough. I want to complain, but Lucy beats me to it by asking Ale to go to bed. A few minutes later, the light goes out, plunging us all into darkness. I roll over to the other side now that it’s dark and I can’t see Lucy watching me. I know she’s still there; otherwise, I would have heard the sound of the chair. Time passes, and I can make out Alexia’s steady breathing. My mind is too agitated, and it’s starting to annoy me. I sigh heavily, admitting defeat.

- "I can’t sleep," I mutter, rubbing my eye.

- "And then you wonder why I’m still here," she jokes.

- "It’s not funny," I sigh, sitting up.

- "Stay in bed. Curfew has passed."

- "Am I allowed to go to the bathroom?"

She sighs but lets me go. I make sure not to take too long so she doesn’t get impatient. I wash my hands before returning to bed under her watchful eyes.

- "What are you going to do during your vacation?" I murmur.

- "Talking won’t help you fall asleep," she says, annoyed.

- "It might help."

- "No, it just distracts you. We’ll have plenty of time to talk when I take you home tomorrow."

- "You’re taking me to the airport?"

- "Yes, Ona."

- "Cool. I prefer it when it’s you."

- "Don’t get any ideas. It’s just because I’m leaving at the same time as you."

- "Hmm."

I smile even though she can’t see it. Even if it’s the truth, I don’t care about the reasons. I just focus on the fact that she’s the one taking me home, even though she doesn’t have to. I understand now why she wanted to handle my departure reservations. I thought it was to take the burden off me.

- "Thanks," I say.

- "Okay, that’s enough. You’re starting to annoy me by being so awake. If you talk again, I’m really going to make you run laps. Am I clear!?"

- "Oh, come on, calm down," I grumble. "I’ll sleep."

- "I hope so. Goodnight."

- "Goodnight..."

I smile as I finally turn my back to her. I try now to clear my head and pretend she’s not there. This last solution seems to work this time because I finally feel myself drifting off.

[vulpixisananimal]

(You breathe a sigh of relief as you open the door to the homestead. This was your destination, Riverside homestead. It was placed directly on your family's route from Jouvente to Worlworth, the city Ramos' guardian lived in. The sun had almost disappeared, geetting here by twilight wasn't bad.)

(It was a sizable building. With two stories and stables for any horses. There were a few broken down buildings around it that suggested it used to be a much bigger complex. up a hill, you could make out a large tree, it looked like it was a Favor Tree.)

(When you entered the main door, you were greeted to a cozy and large common area, a main desk of sorts was to one side. There were stairs leading up, and a few doors, one of them you were pretty sure lead to a kitchen.)

(There was a lady sitting at one of the tables, who, upon seeing you enter, got to and went over to the desk.) "Welcome in! Got here just in time!"

"Haha, had to run to make it." (You reply, putting on your smile. The rest of your family was coming in behind you. Oh yeah, you reach up and take those singing stones out of your ear. You still don't remember who gave them to you, but Mal liked them. You did too.)

(The person at the desk smiled seeing Mirabelle enter.) "Miss!! You're back!!" (She said excitedly.)

"H-huh?!?" (Mira looked surprised for a second, before smiling.) "O-oh yes!! I told you I'd visit again once the country was saved!!"

(Oh yeah. Mirabelle and Isabeau would have stayed here on their journey, over a year ago now.)

"Well looks like ya won! This lot the rest of the great saviors of Vaugarde?"

"Not me, or Ramos here." (Nille said, patting Ramos shoulder. She looked for a place to sit down.) "We're just along for the ride."

"Don't care, c'mon in, take a seat, staying the night?"

"O-oh yes! We we're probably going to make it here tomorrow, b-but-" (Mira starts, going over to the desk.)

(Odile cuts Mirabelle off, joining her.) "-But if I spend one more night in the forest I will go postal."

(. . . Not bringing up the sadness is probably a good call. That would just cause a panic. You let Odile and Mirabelle deal with rooms and such, you wander around the common area.)

(Frozen in time. . .)

(You still couldn't get over it. You got frozen in time. Months after the kings defeat, despite there being no sign of frozen time anywhere in the country. And no sadness anywhere, either.)

(Well, except for Ramos. But Ramos was turned into a sadness. And turned back when you broke that emblem embedded with mind craft. Does that mean this sadness was also someone turned into one? Apparently there wasn't any visible star, and it smelled of sugar, not mint. What was it then?)

"That alright Sif?" (Mira called over, oops.)

"Huh? What?" (You reply, you weren't paying attention.)

"There's only a few rooms left, you and Isa ok with sharing?"

"O-oh! Oh sure!" (You smile, heh, that'll be nice, sharing a room. You hadn't gotten to do that yet. At Bambouche you all stayed at Nille and Bonnies. At Jouvente you had a solo room. So finally you'd get some time just, the two of you. Well, four? Five of you? Heh, that was something to talk about.)

(Back to wandering and thinking. The common area was nice, it was well furnished, with a lot of random trinkets around. On the walls shelves, etc. Hmm, there's a sign near the front door that's covered with some cloth. Weird. You go over to it and uncover it.)

(It's. . . Oh! Your language!)

"O-oh! Careful, that'll give you a headache." (You turn, the lady at the desk was calling over to you.)

"How'd you get this?" (You say, now with a real smile on your face.)

"Huh?" (That got her by surprise.) "Oh! Uh, that's one of the things my gramps put up when he started the place. Never got the heart to take it down."

"Hah! Must have been a funny guy." (Your smile gets wider.) "It says 'make a wish, check it thrice, stay here a while, don't mind the mice.'"

"HA! He sure was!" (They lean on the desk.) "You can read that? Those other guys said they could only translate the first couple lines."

"The-" (What.) "Who?"

(Walk over to the desk, we need to know who-)

(And hello to you too, Mal. You do walk over, though, and ask.) "Someone else was reading that?"

"Yeah!" (She tapped her temple.) "Couple who're traveling, said they'd been researching that, Island stuff. Figured out the first part of that sign, asked about gramps and-"

"Are they still here?!? Where'd they go??" (You need to know, WE need to know. Mira and Odile leaned to the side, it was your time.)

"Woah there bud, I'd be a bad host if I just told you that kinda stuff." (They put their hands up.) "I know, I know, island stuff is. . . Important. It was important to gramps too."

(. . . Right.)

(She probably had more than a handful of islanders who'd recognized that sign and had a. . . Bad reaction. You still had your silver coin, after all.) "S-sorry."

"No issue, though, how'd you read it? It gives everyone else a headache."

"Savior secrets~" (You say, sticking your tongue out.)

"He's always like this." (Odile said, sighing.) "I am so, so sorry."

"Ha! Nah It's fine. Oh yeah!"

"Name's Jan (she/they). Been managing this place for a while now, y'all are all happy to stay anytime."

"Oh! T-thank you Jan-" (Mira starts.)

"Free of charge, naturally." (Jan finishes.) "No buts! You saved the country!"

"B-but-!"

"Don't try, Mirabelle." (Odile shakes her head.) "I've tried paying for supplies before to no avail."

"Hmph, fine." (Mira pouted.) "Thank you very much, I-I just, feel a bit weird about it."

(Ha, you kinda did, too. You were still kinda broke though, you had two silver coins to your name and didn't want to get rid of either of them. So you did appreciae the freebies.)

(Just take the free food and shelter, Siffrin.)

(You know, you know. It just, still felt weird, taking things for free.)

(Jan handed over the room keys. A room with three beds for Odile, Mira, and Ramos. A room with two beds for Nille and Bonnie, and a room of two for you and Isabeau. Stay for a few days, get on the road again. It sounded nice! You and Odile headed upstairs to check the rooms out.)

(You unlock the door to your room, sizeable, little table and chair, wardrobe, window, and-)

"O-oh."

"Something wrong, Siffrin?" (Odile leans over to look in your room.) ". . . Hah!"

"S-shut uuuuupppp." (You hide your face in your cloak.)

"My my, is there something wrong with sharing a bed, Siffrin?"

"I-it just, feels," (You mumble.) "it feels kinda different i-if we're, y'know-"

"Bonded-to-be?" (Odile teases.)

(You choke on your words, your blushing, really, really hard.) "I-I-I'm I'm gonna, get, uh-"

"I understand Siffrin. I'll see you tomorrow, if you survive."

"Night. . ."

(You close the door, stars. What a day. What a weird stupid day. You put your pack down by the SINGLE bed and take a breath. You fought a sadness, you were walking all day, you found another blinding island thing. . . You try to open the window.)

(Great, the window didn't even open. It was stuck.)

(You sit down on the bed.)

(. . .)

(What, have nothing to add, Mal?)

(I do not.)

(You do, c'mon, share it.)

(I do not like this homestead. I do not like Jan. I do not like that there is a sadness, or that it froze us in time.)

(Well? What do you want ME to do about it.)

(Nothing. That's why I didn't want to bring it up.)

(What about that island phrase? Since that seems to be YOUR buisness.)

(. . . It's the equivelant of one of those, sarcastic, cheesy slogans some have in their homes here.)

(What? Like one of those "Change, Craft, Care" things?)

(If you must know, yes.)

(That makes you laugh. Even if your home is gone, some people still have those cheesy nicknacks.)

(Jan could not understand it. And did not mention their grandparent.)

(. . . Right. You'll ask about it in the morning, but you're tired. You start getting dressed into your nighties.)

(Isabeau. . . What do you do about Isabeau. You really like, no, no you LOVE him! You really, really do! Whenever you're around him you get a weird, bubbly feeling that you've never felt in your entire life.)

(But, what do you do about that?!? What would be ok?!? How, how do you talk to him about it! STARS why was this so complicated!! At least in a play relationships had a script, but trying to script out your relationship with someone in real life just, doesn't work.)

(You knew that all too well.)

(Go to Bonnie, favorite foods are rice, pineapple, and samosas WITH potato NO cheese. Go help them get stronger, trip, hug. See Odile, get the book from the bakery, find a clearing, talk. See Mirabelle, ask about papers, talk. Go see Isabeau. . .)

(You get the idea.)

(You had the perfect day down to a formula. You scripted it, orchistrated it, crafted it. But that in itself made it less real. The first time it was a back and forth, you all played your parts, and got your rewards. But every time after? You were the director telling them where to stand. For an audience you could not see.)

(. . . You did miss it. It was nice-)

"Hey Sif- O-oh--"

(You freeze up. That was Isa's voice, and, a-and-)

"S-sorryIshouldhaveknockedsorrysorry-!"

"N-noit'sfineit'sfineI-I'mfine." (You desperatly and quickly cover yourself. You dared not look at him.) "J-j-just, just, u-uh--"

"I-I didn't see anything!! I promise!!"

"A-alrightalright, alright, t-turn around a second I'll finish up quickly."

"O-okay, I'm not looking, sorry, oh crab I'm sorry Sif-"

"I-it's ok! Just, just give me a second." (You breathe in, and out. Stars, you could NEVER live this down!! You very quickly get your nighties on. Stars, your head feels hot.) "Ok, o-ok I'm good."

(You turn around, Isabeau was banging his head softly on the wall before turning around. He had the biggest blush you'd ever seen, impressive, honestly.) "I-I'm, so sorry Sif. . ."

"Y-you're good!! You're good, my back was to you so it wasn't that bad right?" (You smile at him.)

(He looks to the side, blush growing.)

(You squint.) ". . . . Did you see anything?"

". . . . . . . . . . . . . M-maybe-"

(Oh!)

(Oh okay! Got it! This is actually a nightmare and you're still asleep in Jouvente! Wow! It makes so much sense now! Stars, how could you-)

(Shut up, Siffrin.)

(You wince, right, Mal du Pays was here. Sorry.)

(Isa bowed his head.) "I-I'm really really really sorry."

(. . . . . Ah Stars to it. You wink at him.) "Hope you liked what you saw then."

"WH-" (Isabeau froze, processing, prioessing, processing. . .)

(Stars, Siffrin. You are as bad as Loop. Eugh.)

"W-well! I'm going to bed! If you get changed I promise I wont peek."

". . . . . One bed?" (It sounded like the air was being squeezed from Isabeau.) "I-I mean I'm fine with one bed it's just I thought it was two and y'know I just thought that-"

"N-no I was, uh, taken by surprise too! It's fine!" (Taken by surprise? You were being teased by Odile. Can we just go to sleep already?)

"R-right. . ." (It souned like Isa was getting slowly killed.)

(You turn around, getting comfortable. STARS how embaressing. . .)

(Why do you like him?)

(Why? Why not! He's kind! Funny, smart AND strong! He's just, uh. . .)

(You trust him.)

(And you don't?)

(. . .)

(Isabeau finishes up getting ready for bed, you feel him climb in the other side. You turn around.) "Hey."

"H-hey. . ." (He replies, still blushing.)

"Fancy meeting you here."

"W-what a coincidence, right?"

(You laugh softly, stars, now that you're in bed the days exhaustion was catching up to you.) "Is it, fine that we're sharing? A bed?"

"Y-yeahjust-" (He looks away all blushy.) "S-since we're. . . Y'know. . ."

(. . . Stars. He's beautiful.)

(You didn't think you'd like someone like this, you never really got it, after all. But now? With Isabeau here? Next to you in a comfortable, warm bed. You get it.)

(. . . . . Your eyes feel heavy. You can't have The Conversation tonight.) ". . . We can talk about it tomorrow, ok?"

"O-oh! Alright then, I am pretty tired. . ." (You had both been walking all day, of course you're tired.)

(. . . You wish you could kiss him goodnight. Not tonight.)

(Let's just go to sleep.)

"Night, Isa."

"Night, Sif!"

(Night Mal.)

(. . . Just get to sleep. Night.)

[irisintheafterglow]

Hellooo 🫠 so how would satoru react to his little twin sister and suguru secretly dating? Maybe he catches them having a moment or satoru makes a comment and she slips up?

oops?

wc: 0.7k

cw: swearing and dramatic, overprotective satoru, gn!reader

note: BABEE THIS CONCEPT IS SO FUNNY TO ME OMG YOU'RE A GENIUS !!! i hope you enjoy this, this was so fun to write :D

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <3

"i-i can't with you two, right now. please, get out of my sight." he sighs in melodramatic anguish, whirling away with all the flair of a musical theater actor. you could almost imagine the shakespearean cape swooshing behind him as he turns.

"satoru-"

"stop it! there are so many things going through my mind right now and i don't want to know about any of them!" you glance at your boyfriend who hasn't stopped pinching the bridge of his nose for the past five minutes. satoru discovering your relationship was not in either of your plans for the day. you're grateful that suguru tied his hair up; otherwise, he would have probably torn it out by now.

"satoru, we didn't-"

"i'm not listening! i'm not listening!" your brother plugs his ears like a toddler, obnoxiously reciting the abc's until his voice becomes hoarse. it's your turn to sigh, rolling your eyes and praying he calms down long enough for you and suguru to explain yourselves.

satoru wasn't supposed to be in your dorm when suguru came to pick you up, but a quickly completed mission and downtime to kill with girls he'd never see again proved too important of a story to tell you over the phone. as much as you tried to deter him, saying that you'd spilled body spray and he'd get a headache or shoko had left a massive fart on your bed, nothing worked. he burst into your room completely unannounced while you were changing and you stupidly revealed you were going on a date in a panic.

"a date? oh, that's right! you're seeing a guy now, right?" he jumps onto your bed unceremoniously, crossing his legs into a lanky pretzel and leaning forward with great interest.

"satoru, please," you pleaded with him, "you have to go. i need to finish getting dressed."

"what's he like? is he treating my little sibling like he's supposed to?"

"you're older than me by a minute, asshole," you yell from the bathroom, darting around to find all the things you needed to throw into your bag before you left. "you're not allowed to meet him yet, so please leave." the urgency in your voice finally gets through to him and he raises his hands in defeat, making his way to the door when your phone dings. it's from suguru. you throw down your phone, running to grab your brother's arm before he opens the door, but it's too late. the door opens and they speak at the same time.

"hey, gorgeous-"

"what the fuck are you doing here?" suguru's body goes deathly still, unable to come up with a coverup fast enough before satoru connects the dots. "oh. oh my god!" so much for keeping the relationship a secret.

"satoru, look-"

"you're seeing my fucking twin? that's who you've been talking about so much? you're in love with my twin sibling?" suguru's face goes bright pink and he glances at you, stammering pointlessly. you can't help the scoff that escapes you at the fact that suguru talks about you to your twin brother.

"you're in love with me?"

"task at hand, babe," he mutters and satoru flinches at how nonchalantly the pet name slips from his best friend's mouth.

"'babe?' you call them 'babe?'" the conversation devolves into pure chaos. satoru continues to lament his feelings about betrayal by the two people closest to him while those same two people yell at him that it wasn't that serious until yaga's face appears over suguru's shoulder.

"if you all would politely cease your bickering, i am trying to sleep," he says with barely restrained anger and all three of you shrink away, murmuring various apologies. when your principal leaves, satoru gives a deep exhale before turning to his best friend.

"don't hurt them, suguru," he commands in a tone you'd never heard from him before. "i'm dead fucking serious."

"i know you are, satoru," he concedes, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "and, i'm sorry for not telling you. i didn't know how to."

"yeah, yeah, i know. get out of here, already, yeah?" he waves dismissively, ushering you out the door and into suguru's arms. "don't do anything stupid, you lovesick freaks."

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[mostly-marvel-musings]

Annoying Neighbour - Part 6

A/N: Time for an update! The final chapter guys. Yet another series coming to an end. Leave a comment, heart or reblog if you enjoyed this story!

Pairing: Single Dad! Tony Stark x Reader

Warnings: 18+ fluff.

Word count: 2.1k

Annoying Neighbour Masterlist

.

Pregnant.

There it was. Two red lines on a white stick that changed the course of your life forever. You placed the test back on the counter, in line with the three others you had taken yesterday, all confirming the same thing.

You were carrying Tony’s child.

After cleaning up, you took a good look at yourself in the mirror, eyes landing on your stomach that showed nothing. At least not yet. It would be a while for that but you’d eventually be sporting a baby bump. A baby that was half yours and half Tony’s. Your hand flew down to caress your belly, picturing a tiny little bean of life growing inside, it made you smile.

“Hey there, my little oops baby.” you murmured, still caressing your invisible bump.

The thought also made you worry. It was an oops baby. What if Tony didn’t want another child? What if with his past experience, he refused to have another family? That was quite unlikely, but still the thought did cross your mind. What if Morgan didn’t agree to it? Would you have to raise this child alone? Were you even prepared for something like this? Emotionally? Financially?

And all these thoughts aside, there was a strong sense of protection you felt towards the little bean, like no matter what happened, you would do everything to protect it, keep it safe, bring him or her into the world.

With or without Tony.

The week went by quickly, Tony was still away in Malibu with Morgan and you were still keeping your pregnancy a secret from him, thinking it was best to do it face to face.

There was a letter left on your doorstep one evening when you returned from work, it only had your name on it, meaning someone physically left it there. Picking it up, you began reading it, blood draining from your face as you realized who had written it.

Pepper.

Y/N,

Looks like you won. All Tony seems to care about is his new life with his new girl.

Congratulations on stealing my husband and my life away from me. Tearing a family apart, taking a daughter away from her mother, I hope it made you happy.

I don’t want to say the word but I’m sure it has already popped in your head, am I right? I wish you a nice life. One that was supposed to be mine.

Virginia Pepper Potts

A homewrecker.

That was the unsaid word after all.

Your vision had blurred from tears as you finished the letter, feeling it slip from your hands. You would’ve picked it up but it seemed as if black spots had appeared in front of your eyes, they only seemed to grow bigger until a dull tingling sensation took over and you lost consciousness, not realizing if your body ever hit the ground.

The next time your eyes opened, you were in a room you didn’t recognize. It smelled sterile and medicine-y. Hushed murmurs reached your ears as you sat up to look around, quickly deciphering it was a hospital.

“Easy there, Mama.”

Your head snapped in the direction of the familiar voice. It was Tony. He helped you sit up with relief written all over his face now that you had woken up. It felt so good to have him near you again, his presence almost automatically made you feel better.

“Tony, when did you get here?” your voice came out small and weak from lack of use. Tony gave you a smile as he readjusted your pillow, clasping your hand in his and caressing the back as he took a seat next to you.

“This afternoon. Well, my plan was to surprise you, but then Rhodey called in stating he was taking you to the hospital, nearly giving me a heart attack in the process. So that was quite a bust.”

He explained, letting you know that Rhodey had not only brought you here but also prevented a nasty fall you would have had had he not reached to catch you at the right time. You did still have a mild headache but otherwise you felt okay. He offered you some water that you gladly accepted while mind flew back to the words he had said earlier.

He’d called you Mama.

“Tony, you um, you know?” you swallowed, crossing your fingers and silently praying he would be happy with the news.

“Yeah the doctor ran tests and one of the nurses gave me your report in a very stoic manner. I would’ve preferred hearing it from you. Why didn’t you tell me, Y/N?” he asked softly, his hand squeezing yours reassuringly to let you know he was here no matter what.

“I uhm–I wasn’t sure if you wanted another kid. Honestly? I don’t know if I’m ready to have one, you know? It is too soon. You have Morgan and I mean we never talked about it really! I didn’t know if it was too soon or what would happen or–”

“Hey, it’s okay. Y/N, honey, look at me. Please.”

Tony cupped your cheek to make you look at him, wiping the tears that escaped with his thumb before resting his forehead against yours. He took in a deep breath and encouraged you to do the same, calming your racing thoughts with his presence. It made you realize how much you had missed having him around.

“Better?” he whispered, kissing your forehead when you nodded with a small smile.

“I’m pregnant, Tony.” your voice cracked as a near face-splitting grin adorned your face, saying those words out loud made it all real for you. It was actually happening.

“I can’t believe I’m going to be a father again. You’re gonna be such a great Mama, Y/N. I love you so much.”

You smiled into the kiss you shared, feeling like a weight was lifted off your chest, happiness making its way through as you hugged him close. This was the first time he had said it to you, even though he should’ve said those words months ago.

“I love you too, Tony.” you whispered, allowing your heart to flutter hopelessly for the man you were hopelessly and irrevocably in love with.

After you separated, Tony let you know that Rhodey had taken Morgan to the park, bringing your thoughts back to the incident which brought you here in the first place.

“Tony, there’s something you should know. I received a letter earlier today.” you began, making him frown as he turned his attention to you. Tony remained calm while you explained the whole thing, the contents of that nasty letter Pepper had left you but on the inside, you could tell he was furious. You couldn’t help but tear up again as you recalled some of the things written in it.

“I should have been there. You don’t deserve this, Y/N. I’m so sorry. I’m gonna take care of it, I promise you. I’ll file a restraining order. She won’t get anywhere near you.” You could tell he was cursing himself internally, staring out the hospital window, the wheels in his mind already working on a plan to rid himself and his new family of that despicable woman.

You remained quiet as he promised he wouldn’t let anything happen, wrapping your arms around him and breathing in his comforting scent.

“You could never be a homewrecker, Y/N. We were never a home to begin with, Pepper and I. We could never be. It wasn’t right. But she gave me something worth living for. Morgan. And now with you, I finally understood what it means to be a loving family, a unit.” he murmured with his lips against your hair, hands gently caressing your back.

The day had been quite overwhelming for you, and at his little confession, you couldn’t help but sob again. Hearing your sniffles, Tony tensed up.

“It’s the pregnancy hormones, Stark. Leave me alone.” you laughed through your tears, hiding your face in his chest.

For once you believed that maybe everything would be okay.

.

Five months later

Impatient squeals of kids could be heard out in the backyard as you prepped Morgan’s birthday cake, sticking six candles in the strawberry and chocolate cake. You giggled to yourself when you heard Rhodey scream on top of his lungs for the kids to behave.

The Pepper problem in your life was taken care of, she was facing an inquiry after being found guilty of committing fraud in Stark Industries, her lawyers weren’t able to save her. And the restraining order had been the final nail in the coffin.

Tony had asked you to move in with him a month after finding out you were pregnant. He had done so while you and Morgan were baking chocolate chip cookies, something you craved the most throughout your pregnancy. Taken you by surprise but not really considering how most of your relationship milestones had missed their order, though you weren’t complaining.

Now complete at eight months nearing the ninth, you were equal parts excited and nervous about giving birth. Morgan was the most excited about having a sibling, much to your relief and Tony’s. She would spend days discussing all the toys she wanted for the baby, the colour of the nursery etc. You even found her drawings that she had left on the table one day. A family standing beside a house, with a mom, dad, and a little girl holding a baby along with a dog - one she was fixated on bringing home, though you and Tony had found ways to try and get her mind off of it. You were certain eventually she would make Tony cave and bring a pet home.

A comforting pair of arms wound themselves around you from behind, making you smile before you felt Tony’s lips against your shoulder. He wasn’t missing any opportunity to caress your belly, it was safe to say he was obsessed. Obsessed with your changed body, your weird cravings, your increased sex drive, he was in love with it all.

“Everything looks great, sweetheart. How’s my son?”

“He’s asleep. Well, he was.” you grinned when you felt a little kick against Tony’s hand, making you shake your head. Your unborn child was already responding so well to his Dad’s touch, he would kick almost instantly upon hearing Tony’s voice, feeling his touch, hearing him sing to him at night, you knew they were going to be inseparable.

“Can’t wait to meet you either, Theo.” he crooned, making you frown and place your hands on your hips.

“Excuse me, when did we decide on Theo?”

“Didn’t we?” Tony shoved both his hands in his pockets, smirking while his fingers wrapped around the little velvet box he had purchased a few weeks ago.

“Nope. We agreed on Noah. I mean, Morgan and I did.” you shrugged, picking up the cake to bring outside before Tony stopped you.

“I’m sure we can debate over it. There’s another very important question I have for you, Miss Y/L/N.”

Your heart skipped a beat as he knelt in front of you, pulling out the box with a knowing smile on his handsome face.

“Y/N, my beautiful Y/N, you are the best thing to have happened to me and my kid and I will forever be thankful for that darn airplane toy that crashed into your window that night. I love you so much and I can’t wait to start this new chapter of our lives. Though I think it’s about time we got an upgrade from being your annoying neighbours to something more, isn’t it? Marry us, please? We’re already a family, we just need to make it legal.”

You chuckled through your tears as he finished, whispering a ‘yes’. Tony slipped the stunning diamond ring on your finger and kissed you, pouring all his love and devotion into it. Your heart was brimming with joy as you hugged in your kitchen, separating when you heard a couple of kids complain, knowing Morgan would soon come looking for the source of the delay of her birthday cake.

He was right. That toy crashing into your window was the best accident that had happened in your life, one that changed the course of it in the best possible way. From being wary of your neighbour, you were now utterly in love with that same man and his daughter, were living with him and were just a month away from having his baby.

Talk about love thy neighbour…

[aquarius-cookie-jar]

Right. I'mma just dump these ref sheets I made here because I'll be making some drawings with these guys, and I am bad at staying consistent within the design lmao.

I was inspired by these amazing designs, go check them out.

X || X || X.

Ramble down here, where I try to explain the ""lore"" and my design choices:

So as mentioned above, the majority of the Dark Cacao kingdom is actually composed of kirins, mainly because Cacao was already a kirin in my older designs, and I wanted more of his citizens to match him. Maybe I'll draw the other Cacao NPCs mlp-ified and what I headcanon their species to be.

I ultimately decided to give Cacao a mane and replace his long hair with that. Ngl, I was always on the fence about Cacao and Choco's designs, but yeah, I think the mane works better than just getting rid of it. (Old design below).

Btw, I dunno if I wanna give Cacao an actual crown, or just keep the additional horn things the leader of the kirins kinda have.

Dark Choco hasn't changed much, just in a different art style. I do however wanna say that he shaved off his mane out of shame and guilt for coming across the cursed sword not long after his banishment. Maybe when he and Cacao reconcile, he'll start to grow it out again, or maybe he'll keep it that way as a reminder of the past.

I actually drew (more like edited a screenshot) Caramel Arrow before, and she was originally just a pegasus, but honestly, the concept of hybrids and what they entail really intrigued me. I thought it would be fun if she were a hybrid kirin/pegasus.

Also, her horn doesn't exactly function, mainly because there's this headcanon I once came across a post that says faux alicorns do exist in the mlp canon. If you wanna know my full headcanon for this, feel free to shoot an ask, but to keep it short, for faux alicorns, either their wings are under developed, or their horn can't control the frequencies of magic that well or at all. Such is the case for Caramel Arrow. Though she has fully developed wings, she can't control magic with her horn, and if she tries to, it may cause a headache. But besides that, she's all fine and dandy.

Crunchy Chip, hm, I'd say when he was a little filly, he was found in the woods, either by Cacao, or Choco, and his horn was already broken by the time they came across him. When asked, the little guy said he was protecting the cream wolf pups from a monster, but he can't remember what else happened before he fell unconscious. As he grew older, his broken horn didn't really bother him anymore. He's adapted well, and picked up a thing or two about survival from his cream wolf pack.

Also, sidenote, the kirins' scales are actually very hard to dent, meaning their backs are usually safe from attacks. Crunchy once encountered... something when he was out on patrol, and he was out of commission for a week (to his incredible dismay + annoyance) because of how rare serious injuries to the kirins' backs occur.

Ah, Affogato. Actually, I really do like him as a character, I just tend to focus my attention towards the Celestia and Luna coded father-son duo a bit more. Oops. But anyway, I decided to make him a hybrid just like Carrow too, mainly to add both contrast and similarities between them. They're not too different, but their ideals and beliefs clash and cause conflict with one another, I just thought it was fitting. Also decided to give him a more elegant and curved horn design as a nod to his unicorn heritage. Unicorns in the Cacao kingdom (and maybe the Golden Cheese kingdom) have a curved horn, mainly because the east asian coded unicorns in the mlp canon have curved horns too, and I thought they looked beautiful. Affo is someone so elegant and refined in a land that's chaotic and holds danger everywhere.

And that's my unhinged thoughts for now. I think I'll design Licorice and the others next time, but no promises.

Anyway, thank you for reading.