#quiet council drama

[thunderoussupremephoneixtornado]

This will be so relevant to a krakoa era comic I read someday

[bumblesimagines]

but what if you're the one for me?

when were you going to tell me you were seeing someone? i thought i was the first person you told about that stuff.

- Cassie Howard

but what if you're the one for me?

when were you going to tell me you were seeing someone? i thought i was the first person you told about that stuff.

Pronouns: He/Him/His

Gathering the multiple party-sized bags into your arms, you peered over the top of them as you followed Lexi out of the kitchen and into the living room where the girls had gathered around. From the flush on Cassie's cheek and the way Maddy and Kat giggled, Suze must've told a helluva story. Lexi carefully balanced the small cups of dippings with one arm and began setting them down on the coffee table alongside the scattered candy wrappers and beer cans.

"Finally," Maddy groaned, wiping her lips free of beer and reaching for one of the tortilla chip bags you held. She ripped it open and dug inside, pulling two chips free and eagerly dipping them into the guacamole. She did a blissful shimmy when she munched on the chips and happily went in for more chips. 

"So, (Y/N)," Kat began with a wicked grin, her eyes watching you set the rest of the bags down on the table. You glanced at her questionably and settled down nicely beside Cassie, already feeling ganged up on from the way Maddy and BB turned to Kat expectantly. She took her time, sipping on her beer and taking a bite out of a chip before continuing. "I heard that you and Tammy Lewis were getting a little cozy at the movies last Sunday."

"What?!" Maddy nearly shrieked with a mouthful of chips, her head whipping around to look at you with wide eyes. "You dick! Why didn't you tell us?"

The guys at school who constantly badgered you with questions as to how you could've possibly managed to land a spot in a friend group consisting of the prettiest popular cheerleaders in school had no clue the type of torture you'd been under since 6th grade.

It'd all started one fateful afternoon during lunchtime when the snotty boy in front of you had made fun of Kat and tried to flee before Maddy could lay into him. It'd been instinctive how you stuck your leg out and sent him toppling to the floor. The humiliation of not only falling in front of half the school combined with getting a bloody nose had made the boy cry and you'd been given a couple days of suspension. When you returned afterward, you'd been formally invited to sit with the girls at lunch by none other than Madeleine Perez. 

From then on, the girls kept you around and you were quickly dubbed the luckiest guy in school, even if you viewed all the girls as sisters and they treated you like a baby brother they liked dressing up and cooing over. But along with the territory of brother, came the gossip, drama, and the fact every single person you vaguely showed interest in had to be approved by the council.

"It's not serious, Mads, I swear. It's just.... dating. We're not together." 

"Not yet." BB cooed, exhaling a breath of smoke and snickering when you groaned.

"Tammy Lewis," Maddy murmured and leaned back into the cushion of the couch with squinted eyes. "She's pretty, I guess."

"She's failing English," Kat added, "Like kindergarten reading comprehension type of failing."

"I think she's sweet." Lexi piped in, cradling a cola can in her hands and shrugging her shoulders. 

"It's not serious," You groaned again. "I would've told you guys if it were, I swear! It was just one date and nothing happened." 

Maddy squinted again. "Nothing? Not even a little kiss?"

"Maybe... maybe like one kiss-"

"And you didn't tell us?!" Maddy shrieked again and grabbed a pillow, tossing it over the coffee table and hitting you square in the chest. Unnaturally quiet Cassie laughed, albeit forced and slightly awkward, and retrieved the pillow before it could go tumbling to the floor. You glanced at the blonde, finally noting her lack of input but decided to leave it for later rather than put her on the spot. 

The rest of the night had been the same as others, with a couple movies put on the TV until the girls ultimately passed out either on the floor or the couch. Suze ensured everyone had blankets and pillows as she called up the parents to alert them their kids would be staying over before she retreated upstairs to her bedroom with one last glass of wine in hand.

You'd been curled up on the end of the couch on the brink of dozing off until the feeling of someone slipping by startled you awake and you caught Cassie slipping into the kitchen. You yawned and rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, tugging the blanket over your shoulders and shuffling after her into the kitchen. 

"Oh, hey," She greeted quietly, taking a water bottle out of the fridge and drinking from it. 

"You okay?" You questioned and leaned against one of the counters, trying to fight the exhaustion from clouding your brain. Cassie brushed some loose strands of hair back and took another sip of water, the look on her face conflicted. Cassie confided in you all the time, whether about guys or her mother, so her hesitation seemed odd. 

"When were you going to tell me you were seeing someone?" She asked quietly, running her finger over the rim of the bottle. "I thought I was the first person you told about that stuff."

"You've got a lot on your plate already, Cass. I thought it'd be better to let you recover from... everything." Your eyes flickered down to her belly. She'd hardly been able to tell the girls about it when she found out, seeing as Maddy and Kat had gotten into it and angered each other that day. McKay had known, of course he had, but he hadn't been the one she called when the procedure had been over and done with. 

"I... I'm fine, (Y/N). I'm past it. I'm past McKay. He didn't make me feel... special or loved or.. beautiful. I know that's how love is supposed to make you feel. It- It shouldn't make you feel like shit." Cassie said, setting the bottle aside and turning to face you. Her eyes softened and then began to glisten with tears. You frowned and moved the blanket from your shoulders, taking a step closer and wrapping it around her instead. "He wasn't the one for me... but what if you're the one for me?"

[kckt88]

Scorched Hearts XI

Summary:

'We loved with a love that was more than love - Edgar Allen Poe'

Valaena and Aemond reunite with their family, and tensions rise at dinner.

Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Language, Dragons, Uncle/Niece Incest, Kissing, Fingering, Oral Sex, P in V, Cock Warming.

AEMOND x O.C Niece

Word Count: 6480

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx @moonnicole

Rhaenyra paced the now-empty council chamber, her footsteps echoing softly as she fiddled with her rings.

Nearly six years had passed since Silverwing and Vhagar had been presumed lost in the waters of Shipbreaker Bay, carrying Aemond and her beloved daughter, Valaena, to their deaths.

The pain of losing Valaena had been an agony like no other—her sweet, spirited girl, taken so young, her life snuffed out before it had truly begun.

In the years since, Rhaenyra had found herself drawn to solitude, often seeking the quiet of her balcony to gaze at the stars. She would tell herself that one of them was Valaena, watching over her, a gentle light in the dark.

At other times, she’d mount Syrax and fly to Shipbreaker Bay, where she’d stand on the shore and stare at the waves, willing them to give her back her child.

For a moment, she would almost believe that if she stood there long enough, she would see her daughter walking toward her, stepping out of the mist and foam.

Now, with news of Silverwing and Vhagar sighted over Blackwater Bay, a swirl of hope and dread filled her heart.

What if it wasn’t Valaena? What if someone else had claimed her daughter’s beloved Silverwing?

She didn’t want to open her heart to hope, only to have it torn apart again. She would not survive it.

A soft knock at the door shattered her thoughts. She swallowed, her hands trembling as she composed herself.

“Come in,” she managed, her voice wavering.

The door opened slowly, and as Rhaenyra looked up, her heart stopped. Valaena stood there, framed in the doorway, alive and real.

Rhaenyra couldn’t breathe, frozen as she took in the sight of her daughter—the daughter she’d mourned, who now stood before her as if she’d never left.

Valaena seemed taller now, her features a blend of the girl Rhaenyra had lost and the woman she had become.

Wordlessly, Rhaenyra stepped forward, her hand reaching out, her fingers quivering as they brushed against Valaena’s shoulder.

The touch was solid and warm, and Rhaenyra’s breath hitched as she felt the reality of her child beneath her fingers.

“You’re here,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “You’re real.”

Valaena took her mother’s hand gently, grounding her. “Yes, Mama. I’m real, and I’m home.”

In a heartbeat, Rhaenyra pulled her daughter into a fierce embrace, sobs wracking her as she held Valaena as tightly as she could.

“My girl,” she gasped, over and over. “My little girl.” She buried her face in Valaena’s hair, inhaling her scent, as if she could somehow imprint it in her heart forever.

Finally, Rhaenyra pulled back just enough to cup Valaena’s face in her hands, her thumbs brushing gently across her cheeks.

“I thought you were dead,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Valaena’s own eyes shimmered as she looked at her mother. “I know. I’m so sorry for all the pain I caused you.”

Rhaenyra shook her head, her hands still cradling Valaena’s face as if afraid she might disappear if she let go.

“No, my sweet girl. I’m sorry—for making you feel that you couldn’t come to me.”

A shadow passed over Valaena’s face. “Do you hate me?”

Rhaenyra’s heart twisted as she shook her head emphatically. “No, I could never hate you. Perhaps, someday, we’ll speak of all that has happened. But for now-” she took a shaky breath, pressing a tender kiss to Valaena’s brow, “-I’m just so grateful to have you home.”

The two held each other, finding solace in the closeness that they had both longed for over years apart, a fragile, precious reunion sealed with the unbreakable bond that they’d shared since Valaena’s first breath.

Valaena looked at her mother with a soft smile and said, “Would you like to meet your grandchildren?”

Rhaenyra’s face lit up, and she replied, “Please.”

Valaena called out to Aemond, and the door opened as he entered with Rhaegar and Elaena at his side, and little Daenys nestled in his arms.

Valaena gently introduced each child, beginning with, “This is Rhaegar.” He stepped forward, bowing politely.

“Your Grace,” he said, his voice steady, though his violet eyes revealed a spark of curiosity.

Then Valaena moved her hand toward her daughter, “And this is Elaena.” The little girl, with her thumb firmly in her mouth, pressed herself shyly against Aemond’s leg, peeking out from behind his cloak.

“And this,” Valaena continued, her voice softer, “is Daenys.” She reached over to stroke Daenys’ cheek, who gazed back with wide, inquisitive eyes.

Rhaenyra’s expression softened as she took in each child, and then she looked up at Aemond, her gaze steady. “Aemond.”

Aemond met her eyes and replied with a curt, “Your Grace.”

Rhaenyra nodded. “You and I need to have a conversation, but that can wait. For now, may I hold my granddaughter?”

Aemond glanced at Valaena, who nodded her consent. He stepped forward, carefully passing Daenys to Rhaenyra.

As she cradled the baby, Rhaenyra’s face softened even more, her own hands steady as she pressed a gentle kiss to Daenys’ forehead.

She looked into the child’s curious, trusting eyes for a moment before handing her back to Aemond.

Rhaenyra then knelt to Elaena’s level, giving the little girl a warm smile. “Hello, little one. I’m your grandmother.”

Elaena took her thumb out of her mouth, studying Rhaenyra’s face before saying, “You smile like Mama.”

Rhaenyra chuckled softly. “I hope that’s a good thing.”

Elaena gave a tiny nod, but she still kept close to Aemond, her small hand gripping the edge of his cloak. Rhaenyra rose and turned to Rhaegar, studying him closely. “My, you favour your father in looks,” she said, a gentle smile on her face.

Rhaegar’s expression shifted with a flash of pride, and he said, “Thank you,” his voice small but sincere.

Then Rhaenyra’s gaze drifted to Valaena’s rounded stomach, her eyes widening with realization. “I see I am to have another grandchild.”

Valaena smiled, her hand resting protectively over her belly. “Yes-a surprise, but a welcome one.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes softened as she replied, “Those are the best kind.” Her gaze drifted over Aemond’s shoulder, noticing two unfamiliar faces standing just behind him.

“Ahh yes-” Valaena said, following her mother’s gaze. “This is Lirri and Arro”

Rhaenyra inclined her head in polite greeting, acknowledging the two who had evidently served her daughter and good son well.

Just then, Daenys began to fuss, her small face creasing. Aemond lifted her onto his shoulder, swaying slightly from side to side, murmuring softly to calm her.

Rhaenyra watched, almost mesmerized, as Aemond soothed his youngest with the practiced ease of a father.

“Mama,” Elaena tugged at Valaena’s dress, her voice soft with exhaustion. “I tired.”

Valaena brushed her hand gently over her daughter’s hair. “You’ll sleep soon, my sweet.”

Rhaenyra took in the scene with a quiet smile, then turned to call for Ser Erryk. He entered swiftly, awaiting her command.

“Ser Erryk, will you escort Valaena, Aemond, and their children to the empty royal chambers in Maegor’s Holdfast? There is ample room for the family and space enough for a nursery. There are also suitable lodgings for Lirri and Arro, as I imagine you would like them to remain in your service.”

Valaena nodded gratefully. “Yes, we would.”

Rhaenyra smiled warmly. “I’ll let you all get settled. And, Aemond-” she said, glancing at him, “I’m sure you’ll want to see your mother and siblings as well.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Aemond replied with a respectful nod.

Rhaenyra inclined her head. “Then let us meet for dinner later.”

“Yes, that sounds like a good idea,” Valaena agreed.

As Valaena turned to leave, Rhaenyra felt a surge of emotion she couldn’t quite contain. “Wait,” she called out.

Valaena paused, turning back, and Rhaenyra crossed the room quickly, pulling her into a tight embrace. She whispered softly, “I just wanted to be sure.”

Valaena hugged her mother back, her voice steady and filled with warmth. “I’m here, Mama. I’m here.”

With that, Valaena and Aemond gathered their children and followed Ser Erryk, leaving Rhaenyra alone in the council chamber, her heart brimming with both the joy of reunion and the quiet ache of years lost.

In the quiet of the chamber, Valaena sat back against the cushioned armchair, watching the dim flickering light from the candles cast soft shadows across the walls.

Elaena was already fast asleep on the bed, her small form nestled securely in Lirri's arms. Nearby, Daenys was in Arro's gentle hold, swaddled and calm as he slowly rocked her, humming a low lullaby.

Rhaegar, standing beside Valaena’s chair, looked around the sparsely furnished room, his young brow knitting together.

"It's very dark in here, Mama," he murmured.

Valaena gave him a gentle smile, reaching out to brush a hand through his silver hair. "I know, my love. But once we have our things here, I’m sure it will brighten the place up."

She glanced over at Aemond, who sat in a wooden chair by the door, tapping his fingers restlessly against the armrest.

His gaze kept straying to the doorway, his lips pressed into a thin line of anticipation.

Sensing his urge to go, Valaena spoke softly, “It’s alright, Aemond. If you want to go see your mother, go.”

Aemond turned to her, his expression conflicted. “I don’t wish to leave you alone.”

Valaena chuckled lightly. “I’m not alone. Arro and Lirri are here.” She looked at him with quiet understanding, encouraging him to go.

Taking a deep breath, Aemond finally stood, adjusting the front of his leather jerkin. Just then, Rhaegar tugged on his father’s hand, looking up with a curious expression.

“Where are you going, daddy?”

“To see your grandmother,” Aemond answered gently.

Rhaegar tilted his head in confusion. “But-we just saw her.”

Aemond chuckled, ruffling his son’s hair. “You have more than one grandmother.”

Rhaegar’s eyes widened with intrigue. “I do?”

Aemond nodded, a faint smile on his face. “And uncles and an aunt as well.”

Rhaegar’s face lit up, and he looked at his mother, clearly eager. “Can I come with you?”

Valaena met Aemond’s gaze, a look of encouragement in her eyes.

Aemond turned back to Rhaegar with a soft smile. “If you want to, yes.”

“I do!” Rhaegar’s face shone with excitement, and he nodded emphatically.

Valaena leaned down and cupped Rhaegar’s face, her expression tender. “Be a good boy, alright?”

“I will, Mama,” Rhaegar promised earnestly.

Aemond stepped forward, pressing a gentle kiss to Valaena’s forehead. “I’ll be back soon,” he murmured. “I love you.”

She smiled, her hand resting over his as he pulled away. “I love you too.”

With a final glance, Valaena watched them leave, Aemond’s protective arm around Rhaegar’s shoulders as they disappeared down the dim corridor.

The door closed softly, leaving the room cloaked in quiet once more.

Aemond and Rhaegar made their way through the winding corridors of the Red Keep, the shadows and hallways stretching out before them.

Rhaegar, small, wide-eyed and unsure, clung tightly to his father’s hand as they walked.

Every now and then, he tugged on Aemond's hand, and at last, he paused, kneeling down to meet his son’s eyes.

“What’s wrong, Rhaegar?” Aemond asked gently.

Rhaegar looked around, glancing nervously at the servants and guards who had stopped to stare as they passed.

"People are staring at us, Daddy."

Aemond gave him a reassuring smile, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, tresy. They’re looking at me, not you” (Son).

Rhaegar’s brows furrowed as he whispered, “Are you okay, Daddy?”

Aemond’s smile softened. “I will be” He stood and, with a deep breath, took Rhaegar’s hand in his once more.

Together, they walked onward until they arrived before the heavy door of Alicent’s chambers. Aemond raised his hand to knock but hesitated, his fingers curling.

He felt Rhaegar squeeze his other hand and, glancing down at his young son, he smiled—a reminder of his courage.

Steeling himself, Aemond knocked, and a moment later, his mother’s voice called from within, “Come in.”

Opening the door, Aemond’s breath caught. Alicent was sitting by the window beside Helaena, both of them sewing.

At the sight of him, Alicent froze, her needle slipping from her fingers.

“A-Aemond-” she whispered, slowly rising from her seat, disbelief and joy fighting for dominance on her face.

She approached him cautiously, her hand reaching out, as if he might disappear if she moved too quickly.

Gently, she cupped his face, her thumb tracing the scar on his cheek. “I thought you were dead,” she murmured, voice trembling.

Aemond took her hand, squeezing it gently. “No, Mother. I’m alive.”

A relieved smile broke across her face. “Oh, my son-” She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close, and Aemond hugged her back, though a bit stiffly.

When she pulled away, her gaze fell on Rhaegar, her eyes widening.

“And who is this little one?” she asked softly.

Aemond’s hand moved to rest on Rhaegar’s shoulder, and with a small, proud smile, he said, “This is my son, Rhaegar.”

Alicent’s eyes filled with fresh tears as she clasped a hand to her mouth. “You have a son,” she whispered in awe.

Aemond nodded. “Yes, I also have two daughters and another child on the way.”

“Oh, Aemond-” Alicent’s smile was luminous. “Is it Valaena? Is she here too?”

Aemond’s eye widened, surprised. “How did you know about—”

Before he could finish, the door burst open, making Rhaegar jump and clutch at Aemond’s leg.

Aegon stumbled into the room, breathless and grinning. “Is it true? They’re saying all over the Keep that Aemond’s alive! Is he really—” He stopped abruptly, eyes falling on his brother.

Aemond bent down to lift Rhaegar protectively into his arms, fixed his older brother with a scowl. “You moron, you scared my son half to death!”

Aegon winced, raising his hands in surrender. “Sorry, I—wait. You have a son?” He looked incredulous.

Aemond sighed, rubbing Rhaegar’s back soothingly. “Yes, you idiot. And you frightened him.”

Aegon’s expression softened as he looked at the boy in Aemond’s arms. “What’s his name?”

“Rhaegar,” Aemond answered.

A broad smile broke across Aegon’s face. “A fine name, brother. Well done.” He clapped Aemond on the back, and Aemond muttered a grudging thanks.

At that moment, Helaena approached, her soft smile calming Rhaegar. Holding out her arms, she silently asked permission to hold him.

To Aemond’s surprise, Rhaegar leaned over willingly, nestling into her as she kissed his cheek and murmured,

“There, there, sweet boy.” Rhaegar, now settled, seemed soothed in her gentle hold.

Aegon then flung his arms around Aemond, his grin a mix of affection and mischief. “You twat, I’ve missed you!”

But Aemond pulled back, wrinkling his nose and teasingly sniffing the air around Aegon. “Gods, you reek of wine. Did you bathe in it?”

“If only,” Aegon quipped, laughing, though Aemond made a face in response.

Just then, Daeron appeared quietly by the doorway. He stepped in cautiously, his eyes shining as he took in the sight of his elder brother.

Aemond nodded politely to him, offering a faint smile. Daeron stepped forward, returning the smile as he clasped Aemond’s shoulder.

“I was barely more than a boy when they sent me to Oldtown and when I returned, you were gone,” he said softly.

Aemond’s gaze warmed, nodding in quiet understanding. “Then mayhaps we can come to know each other as brothers once more.”

Daeron nodded, his voice steady. “I would like that.”

As Alicent watched her children reunited, she couldn’t hold back the tears that slipped from her eyes, pressing a handkerchief to her cheek.

For six long years, she had mourned her favourite son, believing him lost to the sea. And now here he was—returned to her, with his own family.

At last, Aemond was home, surrounded by his mother and siblings, the ghosts of the past slowly beginning to lift.

Rhaegar’s small voice broke through the gentle chatter. “I want to go back to Mama,” he whispered, his hand clutching Helaena’s shoulder.

Helaena smiled warmly and, with a soft kiss to his cheek, handed him back to Aemond.

Aemond held Rhaegar close, nodding to his sister with quiet gratitude. “Thank you for everything, Hellie-” he said.

She smiled; her gaze full of understanding. “I’m just glad that you’re all home.”

Aemond took a breath, shifting his weight as he prepared to leave. “The Queen has invited me and Valaena for dinner later,” he said, “-So I’ll see you all then.”

“Where are you off to now?” Aegon asked, folding his arms with an arched brow.

“Rhaegar wants his mother,” Aemond replied, adjusting his grip on his son. “And I should be heading back anyway—Elaena and Daenys will likely be waking from their naps.”

Aegon blinked, a mix of surprise and amusement crossing his face. “Who are Elaena and Daenys?”

“My daughters,” Aemond said, giving him a wry look.

Aegon let out a laugh, clapping Aemond on the shoulder. “Well, you’ve certainly been busy, whilst you were dead. So how many children are we talking about here?”

Aemond rolled his eye, scoffing. “Like you can talk. How many silver-haired bastards of yours are running around Flea Bottom?”

Aegon shrugged, grinning. “Not that many, I don’t think-” he trailed off with a smirk, “and you didn’t answer my question.”

With a sigh, Aemond replied, “I have three children, and another on the way.”

Aegon whistled, laughing. “Gods be good, brother!” He clutched his ribs as Aemond, exasperated, jabbed him lightly in the side.

“I’ll see you at dinner,” Aemond said, his patience thinning but his smile lingering.

With a final nod to his siblings, he made his way out of the room, Rhaegar cradled securely in his arms.

Rhaegar nestled against him, Aemond strode back through the corridors of the Red Keep, feeling, for the first time in years, like he truly belonged there once more.

As Aemond visited his family, Valaena was busy overseeing the unpacking of their trunks and carefully attending to the wooden crates that housed the dragon hatchlings.

The room was alive with activity—Daenys gurgled contentedly, drooling over her favourite carved wooden toy, while Elaena giggled in delight as Lirri gently tickled her tiny feet.

Meanwhile, Arro was stood on the balcony, admiring the breathtaking view over Blackwater Bay.

Valaena knelt beside the crates, unlatching them and gently coaxing the hatchlings out.

Hūra let out a piercing shriek as she unfurled her wings, stretching before leaping onto the bed to snuggle up next to Elaena, who giggled and stroked her scaly head.

Valerion, the smallest, wasted no time latching onto Valaena’s dress, scrambling his way up to her shoulder as he chirped happily in her ear.

Sapphyre, the largest and most spirited of the trio, lifted his head, sniffed the air, and began to trill urgently as he looked around.

Lirri looked concerned, watching the restless hatchling. “What’s wrong with him?” she asked.

“It’s a new place,” Valaena explained, brushing a soothing hand over Sapphyre’s scaled neck. “He doesn’t know where Rhaegar is. He’s worried.”

“Oh no-” muttered Lirri

“Dokimarvose, Sapphyre. Lykirī”  but Sapphyre only roared and flapped his wings, rearing up on his hind legs in agitation (Focus, be calm).

“My lady-” muttered Lirri nervously.

With a firmer tone, Valaena held out her hand and commanded, “Dohaerās, Sapphyre” (Serve).

Instantly, Sapphyre’s defiance waned; and he settled down, tilting his head with a questioning gaze.

“Mama-” exclaimed Elaena.

Valaena gently stroked him, murmuring, “Hegnīr valītsos” Sapphyre then moved away and curled up in front of the fire, his golden eyes fixed on the door, waiting (Good boy).

Lirri exhaled in relief. “That was close, my lady.”

Valaena gave a slight nod, her fingers idly trailing along Sapphyre’s scales. “It’s an unfamiliar place to him. Hopefully, Aemond and Rhaegar will be back soon and then he’ll calm down-”

Carefully, Valaena lifted Valerion from her shoulder and placed him on the bed next to Daenys, who immediately reached out to hold his tail in her little hand.

Arro, watching all of this with fascination, finally spoke up. “Should we ask that Sapphyre be taken to join Vhagar and Silverwing? He might feel more comfortable with them.”

“The dragon keepers may not allow that,” Valaena replied, a hint of displeasure in her voice. “They’d likely insist he be taken to the Dragonpit.”

Arro looked puzzled. “What’s the Dragonpit?”

“It’s a building in the city where dragons are kept,” Valaena explained, her tone darkening. “But I don’t like it, the dragons are chained in the dark. I won’t subject Sapphyre to that.”

Arro shook his head, his expression disturbed. “That sounds terrible.”

“I believe it stunts their growth, being chained up and confined like that,” Valaena said, glancing over at the hatchling curled up by the fire.

“Is that why Vhagar is so large?”

“Yes, I believe so-she’s spent many years flying free. Maybe that why they insist on chaining the dragons, to prevent them from growing larger” muttered Valaena rubbing her stomach gently.

“Was there a dragon larger than her?” asked Arro curiously.

“There was. Balerion the black dread, he was the largest dragon who ever lived” replied Valaena.

“Where is he now?”

“He died, during the reign of my great great grandsire King Jaehaerys” said Valaena.

“Oh” said Arro sadly.

“His skull still rests in a chamber below the red keep, I can show you sometime if you like?” suggested Valaena.

“I would like that very much my lady thank you”

“I know how much you like dragons, perhaps I can suggest some books from the library that I think you would enjoy” said Valaena smiling.

“You are very kind-”

Just then, the door opened, and Aemond stepped in, Rhaegar at his side. Sapphyre, upon seeing Rhaegar, let out a low, happy coo as the boy ran to him, stroking the dragon’s head with a joyful smile.

Aemond took in the room, glancing at Valaena. “Is everything alright here?”

She nodded, but her gaze softened as she watched Rhaegar and Sapphyre together. “We’ll talk about it later.”

As the last of their belongings were unpacked and set in place, Valaena and Aemond finally found a quiet moment.

The children were tucked into their respective rooms—Elaena and Daenys sharing a cozy chamber just across the private corridor, and Rhaegar resting in his own little room beside them.

Lirri and Arro were settled in nearby chambers, close enough to keep watch over the little ones if needed.

In their own quarters, Valaena stood in front of the wardrobe, looking frustrated as she held one dress after another up against her naked body, sighing as none of them felt quite right.

Behind her, Aemond was already dressed in his usual black breeches and leather jerkin, an amused smile dancing on his lips as he watched her fuss over her choices.

After a few moments, Aemond got up, moving behind her and sliding his hands over her waist and then gently over her growing stomach.

He leaned down to nuzzle her neck, his lips grazing her skin. “Ñuha gevie ābrazȳrys,” he murmured against her ear (My beautiful wife).

She let out a soft laugh as he turned her around, capturing her mouth in a passionate kiss.

Pulling back, he rested his forehead against hers, asking, “What’s troubling you?”

She sighed, glancing at the pile of dresses. “I can’t find an appropriate dress. Nothing fits properly anymore. My breasts have gotten larger, and none of these dresses cover them properly. I don’t want to feel overexposed.” She crossed her arms in exasperation, glancing at him with a half-smile.

Aemond’s lips quirked up as he gently placed his hands on her chest, cupping the weight of her breasts, his thumbs rubbing against her nipples “You won’t get any argument from me,” he teased.

Valaena huffed a laugh, rolling her eyes. “I’m serious, Aemond. We’re about to have dinner with our parents for the first time in six years, and none of these will do. Either they’re too revealing, or I feel like I’ll overheat.”

He took a step back and reached into the wardrobe, pulling out a deep, elegant floor-length gown with short sleeves. “What about this one?”

She eyed it thoughtfully. “It’ll have to do, I suppose though it still doesn’t solve the issue with the top.”

“Use the sashes on the back as a wrap,” he suggested. “They should offer some cover-”

Her eyes brightened. “That’s a good idea.” She took the dress and made her way toward the privacy screen, only for Aemond to reach for her arm, halting her.

“Where are you going?” he asked, a possessive look in his eye.

“To get dressed?” she replied with a playful arch of her brow.

“I wish to watch,” he insisted, his voice low and warm. “I don’t want you hiding any part of yourself from me.”

Her cheeks flushed, but she smiled and let the privacy screen be. She slipped on a thin shift, glancing at him shyly before reaching for her small clothes.

Aemond’s hand touched her wrist. “No,” he said, voice rough with desire. “Leave them off.”

Valaena smirked as she set them aside and stepped into the gown. Aemond moved behind her to fasten the small buttons and ties, his fingers grazing her back as he worked.

She then moved to the vanity, slipping her rings on and fastening her well-worn leather gauntlet bearing the Targaryen sigil.

It was a bit tattered, a testament to how often she wore it—a symbol of her pride in their family and the fact it was a gift from Daemon.

When she reached for her brush, Aemond gently caught her hand. “May I?”

She nodded, handing him the brush, and he began to gently pass it through her long dark hair, careful and slow.

She disliked anyone else handling her hair, yet here she was, relaxed under his gentle touch. It felt intimate, grounding, as if it connected them even more deeply.

When he finished, he set the brush on the vanity and helped her stand.

Aemond gazed at her, his hand lingering at her waist. “I am truly blessed to have you as my wife.”

Valaena smiled, sliding her hands up into his long silver hair and kissing him deeply.

“-And I am blessed to have you as my husband”

Aemond leaned into her, a look of quiet intensity in his eye.

“When this dinner is over,” he whispered, “I’m taking you to bed and fucking you til morning-”

Valaena laughed softly, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “Then let’s hope it doesn’t run too long.”

Aemond and Valaena stood side by side outside the grand dining room, hands clasped tightly. Aemond gave her a reassuring look, squeezing her hand. “Are you ready?”

Valaena took a steadying breath, nodding. “It’s now or never.”

He nodded to the guards, and the heavy doors swung open with a formal announcement. “Princess Valaena and Prince Aemond.”

Inside, the gathered family rose—Rhaenyra, Daemon, Alicent, Aegon, Helaena, and Daeron—each watching their entrance with expressions ranging from joy to curiosity.

Then, Daemon’s voice rang out, filled with an almost raw emotion. “Tala” (Daughter).

Valaena’s face softened, and she smiled at her stepfather as he approached, his usually stern expression softened.

Valaena murmured, “Kepa-” (Father).

In the next moment, they embraced, tightly, as though afraid to let go. When they finally parted, Daemon quickly brushed away the tears that had traced lines down his cheeks, casting an almost embarrassed look aside.

Daemon’s expression hardened as he looked at Aemond, his features sharpening as he scoffed.

Turning away, he strode off without another word. Valaena bristled, her voice sharp as she called after him, “-Daemon.”

She moved to follow him, but Aemond gently took her hand, shaking his head. She turned back to him, and his gaze reassured her, a silent reminder of the purpose of tonight.

Together, they walked toward Alicent, who greeted them warmly. Alicent clasped Valaena’s hand, her smile bright yet laced with emotion as they exchanged a few kind words.

Helaena soon joined them, and Valaena hugged her tightly, whispering a soft, “Thank you.”

Helaena returned the embrace, her own voice tender. “I knew you would both find your way back home.”

Aegon then came over, grinning widely as he threw an arm around Valaena. “Good sister,” he said with a smirk, raising a goblet. “Come, have some wine.”

Valaena held up a hand. “No, thank you.” Aegon’s gaze shifted downward, his smirk turning into a playful, mocking grin.

“Ah, yes, I see that my brother has you stuffed with his child,” he said, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Daeron let out an exasperated sigh. “That’s enough, brother.”

Valaena turned to Daeron, her face lighting up with genuine warmth. “You were but a boy the last time I saw you. And now here you are, a man grown.”

Daeron blushed, looking down before meeting her gaze. “Thank you. I hope we can get to know one another now-” He hesitated, then added with a small smile, “-that you’re not dead.”

Valaena laughed, touched by his sincerity.

Aegon, however, leaned in, eyes glinting mischievously. “And if you want, we could get to know each other a little better too-”

Aemond’s eye darkened, and with a low, irritated growl, he looped his arm around Valaena’s waist, firmly pulling her away from his brother’s reach.

At the table, Valaena took her seat, and Aegon, eyeing the spot next to her, moved to sit there himself, only to be elbowed aside as Aemond took the seat instead.

As they all settled down for the meal, Rhaenyra’s soft voice broke the brief silence. “To our family-whole once more” she toasted, her eyes lingering on Aemond and Valaena with unspoken relief and gratitude.

As they ate, Daemon’s voice, already thick with wine, rang across the table. “So, nephew, where have you been hiding yourself these last years?”

Aemond took a measured breath, feeling Valaena’s reassuring hand on his thigh before replying. “We travelled Essos for a time, then settled in Qarth.”

Daemon raised an eyebrow, a hint of mockery in his smile. “And tell me, just how did you manage to support your little jaunt around Essos? Must’ve cost quite a bit to find shelter and provide food, for yourselves and the dragons”

“We all know that dragons are more than capable of hunting” said Valaena.

“Indeed-but that still doesn’t answer my question,” said Daemon.

Aemond’s jaw tightened, but he replied smoothly, “I took some coin from the treasury.”

Daemon scoffed. “You mean you stole it.”

“That is enough” muttered Rhaenyra as she placed a calming hand on Daemon’s arm, but he yanked it away.

“-Actually, I want to know whose idea it was to let everyone believe that you were dead.”

Aemond held his gaze steadily. “It was mine.”

Daemon chuckled bitterly. “Of course, I knew it.” He reached for his goblet; eyes narrowed. “And why you went along with it is beyond me,” he muttered, looking pointedly at Valaena.

Valaena’s voice quavered as she replied, “It was the only way we could be together. We knew our relationship would never be accepted—”

Daemon’s eyes flashed. “You’re damn right it wouldn’t have been accepted.”

Valaena gasped, “Daemon—” But he slammed his fist on the table, rattling goblets and silencing the room.

“Do you have any idea the pain that you caused your mother?” he thundered, his voice low with barely controlled rage. “She had just lost Visenya, and then you go and let her believe she lost you, too.” His words struck like blows, and tears filled Valaena’s eyes. “-For five years, I watched my wife’s heart shatter, thinking that you were dead, while the whole time you were across the Narrow Sea, spreading your legs like a whore for that one-eyed cunt-”

Valaena’s lip trembled as she fought to hold back a sob. “Stop it!” she cried, but Daemon only pushed back his chair and rose to his feet.

“If I had known about your so called relationship, I would have kept you two apart by force if necessary. I’d have thrown you in the dungeons and forced drink moon tea down your throat to stop you birthing his spawn!”

Aemond, enraged, rose from his chair. “You dare speak to my wife like that?” he growled.

Daemon, unsteady on his feet, sneered. “I will speak to my daughter however I please, especially after the pain she caused by allowing you to drag her into your scheme. Typical Hightower behaviour-where there’s a scheme there’s always one of you green cunts behind it”

The room fell into stunned silence, all eyes fixed on Daemon as Valaena rose from the table.

Her face went from shock to fury as she seized a jug of wine and threw its contents all over Daemon, completely soaking him.

“You want wine? There, have it. I hope you fucking drown in it. Don’t you dare speak about me or my husband like that again! It’s that very attitude that drove us away in the first place.”

Without another word, Valaena turned and stormed out of the room, Aemond quickly following.

Her anger simmered as she marched through the winding halls of the Red Keep, muttering to herself.

When they reached their chambers, she paced, her words spilling out as she ripped the leather gauntlet from her arm, tossing it to the floor. “How dare he! What was he thinking—Fucking disgraceful behaviour”

Aemond locked the door, his face unreadable as he approached her and cupped her face in his hands.

“Gīda ñuha zaldrīzes,” he murmured, his voice gentle. (Calm, my dragon)

“But he—” Her voice faltering as Aemond silenced her with a kiss, deep and grounding.

When Aemond pulled back, Valaena whispered angrily, “He deserves to have his throat cut.”

Aemond kissed her again, hands steady on her shoulders. “Nārhēdegon zirȳla, sagon kesīr lēda nyke sir,” he said, voice a quiet command. (Forget him. Be here with me now).

Valaena took a shuddering breath, nodding as she felt the ties of her dress loosening under his touch.

“Please Aemond” whispered Valaena as her dress slipped from her body, the material pooling at her feet.

“Nārhēdegon se vys, zȳha sepār īlva”  muttered Aemond as he encouraged Valaena to lay on their bed (Forget the world, it’s just us).

“Gūrogon hen aōha grēze valzȳrys” replied Valaena as she reclined against the pillows (Take off your clothes husband).

Aemond stood before Valaena, his intense gaze never leaving hers as he reached for the buckle of his belt.

Slowly, with deliberate intent, he unfastened it, drawing the leather free from his waist and letting it fall to the floor with a quiet thud.

Next, he shrugged off his leather jerkin, exposing the defined lines of his shoulders.

He placed it aside, and his hands moved to his cotton shirt, fingers working each button open one by one, his gaze still locked on hers as he slid it off, revealing the taut muscles beneath.

Aemond held her gaze with a slight, knowing smile as his hands dropped to the waistband of his breeches.

He took his time loosening them, then let them slide down, his small clothes following soon after, leaving him bared to her in the soft glow of the room.

Finally, he lifted his hand to the strap over his head, slipping it free and pulling off his eyepatch, revealing the sapphire where his left eye had once been.

He stepped toward her, his form both fierce and vulnerable, offering himself completely.

Then gently laid down next to her. His mouth claimed hers and his teeth pulled at her plump bottom lip.

Moving his hand down her body, he slid two long fingers into her cunny and speared them in and out of her at a slow gentle pace. His palm bumped against her pearl with each movement of his hand.

“Oh, Aemond” moaned Valaena desperately.

Aemond withdrew his hand from her wet centre and manoeuvred himself down the bed, leaving a trail of wet kisses on her skin, as he reached his desired destination he hooked his hands around her thighs, and his mouth descended on her cunny.

Ravenously, he pressed into her core with his tongue. Valaena clutched at his head with one hand, whilst her other hand fisted the sheet.

Aemond withdrew from her soaking wet core and lashed hard at her clitoris with his tongue, pulling on it with his lips. He was hard, fast, and brutal, alternating between her assaulted bundle of nerves and drinking deep from her cunny.

Valaena ground down on Aemond, his tongue speared deeper inside her, as she felt the warm curl of her peak approach.

Yet Aemond withdrew and Valaena whimpered with frustration at the denial of her peak.

“So wet for me” muttered Aemond, his voice husky.

"P-Please Aemond. I-I need you” moaned Valaena.

Aemond smiled as he turned her over to her side and began suckling on her exposed neck.

"I want to feel you come all over my cock" growled Aemond.

Aemond lifted her leg and slowly slid his cock into her cunny.

Valaena grabbed hold of the sheet, and closed her eyes, letting out a gratifying moan.

Reaching back, she entwined her fingers into his long silver hair and whimpered, "More, Give me more".

Once Aemond was fully sheathed, he carefully grasped hold of her waist and started to slowly thrust into her.

"My sweet wife. How I love the feeling of your wet cunny squeezing my cock” exclaimed Aemond, his hot breath caressing her neck.

Valaena was so wet that he almost lost his grip and slipped out, but he managed to remain ensconced within her as he continued to thrust into her sweet tight cunt.

The sweat off her back rubbed against his chest and her moans and muffled groans were sweet music to his ears.

Aemond snaked a hand between her legs and rubbed her pearl repeatedly until the rise of heat engulfed her and toppled her right off the edge.

"Aemond, don't stop, my love" gasped Valaena, her cunny clenching his cock.

“Fuck, Valaena. Yes, that’s it” moaned Aemond thrusting one final time as he exploded deep inside her, rope after rope of his seed painting her inner walls.

Aemond buried his face in her dark hair and breathed in her familiar scent.

As he went to pull his softened cock from her, Valaena stopped him.

“Let’s just stay like this a little longer. Please”

Aemond nodded and pressed closer to his wife’s warm body.

A feeling of pure love shot through him, as he nuzzled the back of her neck with his nose.

TBC

[hyperactively-me]

Princess!reader finally slipping up and insulting King Ghost by calling him a murderer, or saying that she hates him for that reason. King Ghost finally understanding why she doesn't like him. I need the angst and drama aaaA.

In the dimly lit chambers of the royal quarters, a heavy silence settled. King Ghost sat at his desk, surrounded by the flickering light of candles, lost in the weight of his responsibilities. He had always carried the weight of the crown with solemn grace, ruling his kingdom with a firm hand and an unwavering dedication. Ruling with a strong hand was necessary for Kastron to survive, earning the respect of his subjects and the loyalty of his council. Yet, despite his outward strength, there was a void within him that he couldn't quite fill – the strained relationship with his own wife. 

You kept him at a cold distance that seemed impassable. He could feel your eyes on him, could sense the tension in the air whenever you were in the same room. He yearned to bridge the gap between you, to understand the source of your resentment, but it remained unspoken. He knew that you resented him for taking you away from your home, for throwing you into this role that you never asked for. 

That evening, during dinner, you were absentmindedly pushing around your food with your fork. Your posture was tense, your face scrunched up, lost in thought. 

Ghost clears his throat, the sound echoing in the quiet room.

“What are you thinkin’ about?”

“Oh, this question again,” you snap. 

Being immediately met with your hostility, he prepares for a blowout argument to occur. 

“Can I not ask how my wife is doing?”

Your gaze hardened, your fingers curling into fists. You slam your fork down, springing up from your chair.

“Your wife,” you scoff. 

“It’s what you are, are you not?” 

You don’t say anything. 

“Do you want to tell me what you’re thinking about? We’ve been playing this game of back and forth and I’m growing tired of it.” 

“You want to know? You really are asking me this? Fine, I'll tell you.” Your voice trembled with suppressed emotion, a volcano on the brink of eruption. “I hate you for what you do.”

If he wasn’t paying attention before, he definitely is now. He sets down his fork softly. 

“Tell me what I do.” 

His simple response, his nonchalance, his ignorance of the whole situation, of your feelings, enrages you. The anger that had been simmering within you finally bubbled over, and you couldn't hold back the torrent of emotions any longer. Your voice cracked as you unleashed the storm that had been building up for far too long.

“You’re a murder, a killer. You’re a murderer and I can’t stand the thought of being married to someone who has so much blood on their hands.”

Ghost's posture stiffened, his own anger simmering beneath his usually controlled demeanor. “You speak as though I enjoy it. As though I revel in the violence.”

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, devoid of any humor. “Maybe you don't revel in it, but you certainly tolerate it, don't you? You justify it as the cost of maintaining your power. Well, I can't stand it. I can't stand the sight of you, knowing what you've done.”

His gaze bore into yours, the tension between you like a physical weight in the room. He opened his mouth, searching for words to counter your accusations, but you interrupted him. 

“And not to mention, I’m here now. Yeah, I’m all of a sudden the queen of your kingdom, and everyone expects me to tolerate it and to know what I’m doing. I have no fucking idea what I’m supposed to be doing here.”

Ghost's eyes flashed with frustration. “You think I don't carry the weight of every decision I make? You think I don't question myself, every night, about the lives lost under my command?”

Your laughter was harsh, cutting through the air like a blade. "Your remorse doesn't wash the blood on your hands. And it certainly doesn't—”

“You don’t even know what you’re talking about, do you?” he cuts you off, the interruption slicing through the air. 

His voice is low and strained.

“You don't know the weight of these decisions this kingdom has had to face. You don't know the sacrifices I've had to make to protect this kingdom, to ensure its survival. Every choice I make, every life lost, it's a burden I carry with me every day.”

Your breath caught in your throat, his words penetrating the walls of anger you had built up. You looked into his eyes, seeing something raw beneath his exterior. For the first time in a long while, you saw Ghost not as a cold king, but as a man – a man burdened by the choices he had made.

“I never wanted you to see me like this. I never wanted you to be exposed to the violence associated with me, and I sure as hell never wanted you to despise me.”

“You’re too good for me, you don’t deserve to be in this kingdom with me. So I tried my best to shield you from this side of me, from the violence associated with Kastron. I want to work toward a better future, not only for the kingdom, but for us.” 

You take in his words, understanding the weight of it. You’re going to be here for a lifetime. You’re not going anywhere. And who are you if you back down from a challenge? No, you’re a fighter, and you’ll go down fighting for what you think is right until the day you die. 

“I don’t know if I can just…forget everything,” you say slowly. “And I’m not expecting you to.”

“But, I can’t live the rest of my life here resenting you. It’s exhausting. I mean, fuck, I’m the queen of this kingdom,” you shake your head. 

A deep sigh escaped your lips, your shoulders sagging as the weight of your anger began to lift, replaced by a complex mixture of emotions.

"I don’t want to resent you," you admitted, your voice softer now. You twist the wedding ring on your finger. Ghost pretends not to notice.

“How can I close this distance between us?” Ghost pipes up with a calm tone. “How can I be better for you?”

“I… I don’t really know…” you say. “I just want to get to know who you really are. Who Simon is.”  

He’s quiet. 

“I could say the same for you, you know. I want to know who you are as well.” 

You nod slowly. “Okay…”

“After all, we do have a lifetime together,” he grunts. You pick your fork back up and take a bite of food. You think while you chew, taking in the last few moments. 

“I hope, with time, we can find a way to…overcome this. Together.” You nod your head solemnly.

Silence settled between you, a tense quiet that held the hope of change. The journey ahead was uncertain, a path fraught with challenges, but as you looked at him, you saw not just a king with blood on his hands, but a man willing to confront his past.

The anger that had ignited your words was still there, but it was tempered now by a glimmer of understanding, a sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe, you could find a way to stand together against the darkness that haunted both of you.

- - - - -

(masterlist)

[fleur-a-whump]

Overloaded (#5)

Rocky Reunions Pt. 2

More Kai being grumpy plus his team!!

previous | masterlist | next

CW: uhh shock collar, mentioned electrocution, whumpee paraded around, ex-villain whumpee, hero whumper, hero caretakers

Kai plops into the auditorium seat next to Elijah, letting out a long suffering sigh. His partner chuckles slightly, accustomed to his moodiness and drama, but when he catches a glimpse of Kai’s tight expression, he stops.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, as the Hero League Director and council walk out on the stage. They take their seats at the curved council table, outfitted with microphones and interrupted by a tall center podium, settling in to conduct the briefing.

Kai shakes his head, not wanting to get into it when the meeting is about to start. Elijah gives him a look.

“Later,” he promises, softening, giving him a small, reassuring smile.

Elijah nods and turns to the stage as the meeting begins.

Director Jaida Murphy stands tall and composed at the center podium, her serious face breaking easily into a winning smile once the auditorium has settled. Her voice is loud and clear over the speakers, swiftly silencing any lingering murmurs of the crowd.

“Thank you all for coming to this month’s briefing. We have many things to cover on the docket today so let’s go ahead and get going. First and foremost, Secretary Cho, will you read the previous meeting’s minutes?” she says, turning to the older gentleman at the end of the row, who’s set up with a steno machine.

Kai zones in and out of the tedious meeting. He’s well-practiced in discerning the useless and important parts and is assured by the knowledge that Lizzy, another member of his team, is an obsessive and thorough note-taker. If he accidentally zones out for something important, he can goad her into sharing her notes with him. Though he’d rather avoid the teasing that comes along with that.

He snaps back to attention at the words “villain reform initiative.”

“As you all know, a major responsibility of this organization is to invest in the effective reform of the villains we encounter while protecting the city. Team Delta is currently spearheading a new project which both makes use of insider information from some of the most devious crime syndicates in Hyperion City and actively reforming a major villain, directing his abilities towards the greater good. To tell us more about this new program, please welcome Miguel Toro, and Jasper Lane, also known as Tinker.”

There’s polite applause, underlined by suspicious murmuring, as the two join the council on the stage. Director Murphy steps aside and the two take her place at the podium. Jasper stands just behind Miguel, his face carefully neutral. Kai can make out that the kid is still slightly green after seeing it earlier. He doubts anyone else picks up on it though. He hopes he doesn’t get sick on stage.

What catches his attention most, and likely everyone else’s, is the collar still tightly fastened around his neck. He’d changed his shirt since Kai saw him, now wearing what could be scrubs—or a prisoner’s top—with a v-neck that puts the collar on prominent display. The brazen showcase makes Kai nauseous. It doesn’t sit well with him, no matter what Jasper has done.

He watches the kid's Adam's apple bob against it in anxiety. Kai’s skin prickles as he remembers how badly the electricity hurt him, second hand. He wonders how often they use it.

“Hello,” Miguel says, loudly, firmly, in an attempt to settle the whispers still rippling through the auditorium. He’s not nearly as effective as the Director, but it does quiet some.

“Thank you for allowing us to present this project to you today. Jasper has been working with us for about six months, and we can report only positive results from this venture. He’s used his technopath abilities to improve our equipment and assist on over two dozen missions, most notably with data recovery from the Blitz Family Warehouse reconnaissance mission down at the Wharf last month. Most importantly, as Jasper is the son of old school villain Nero and protege of Psychosis, Jasper has supplied us with invaluable intelligence from within the crime empires these two are orchestrating.”

Kai raises an eyebrow. He knew Tinker was trained by Psychosis, which was intimidating enough, but the kid is also Nero’s son? Nero had essentially been an untouchable keystone in one of the largest syndicates in Hyperion for like 25 years.

No wonder they wanted to keep him close.

“Jasper has restricted, supervised access to technology and his powers. His movement is also restricted and his location is tracked. Jasper has performed very well within these safety precautions and has been a very useful tool in our belt. We believe with properly tailored boundaries and effort made on both sides, this program is replicable with other villains.”

So, you’re just not going to mention the fucking shock collar? Kai scoffs quietly.

He’s sure the only reason Jasper hasn’t wreaked havoc on the whole tower is they’ve been electrocuting him. Miguel is just peacocking; putting lipstick on the pig that, knowing him, he probably staked his whole career on. He’s been trying to move up the ranks for years.

He watches Miguel bring Jasper forward with what could be a supportive hand on his back, but looks to Kai more like a possessive grip on the back of his neck. Miguel opens the floor to questions, giving non-answers and continuing to speak about Jasper as if he wasn’t there. Jasper stands quietly, entirely stoic through even some of the crueler questions and discussion of his crimes and background. One question does get Kai’s attention though.

“How did this idea come about?”

Miguel stiffens a bit. “We arrested Jasper in the field, and it was my idea to work with him rather than just shuffle him off to prison.”

Kai just barely catches Jasper’s face twitch. He recalls Jasper saying he came to the heroes. He sort of hates that he feels more inclined to believe the villain over the hero.

Then someone finally has the guts to ask about the collar. This time Jasper's response, another twitch like he's holding back a grimace, is more noticeable.

“It's simply a tracking device, fashioned this way to minimize Jasper's opportunities to tamper with it, given that he is technologically inclined.”

Kai nearly jumps out of his seat at that. There's no way he just lied like that. He wouldn't be surprised if a collar like that could kill someone without an affinity for electricity, and Miguel wants to pretend it's just a tracking device?

If he wasn't sure there was something wrong with the whole scenario before, he certainly is now.

Listening to Miguel drone on for the next ten minutes just pisses Kai off more and more. It’s a good thing the presentation was the last order of business. Much longer, and the cups of coffee and water bottles around him would’ve started boiling and bursting as his emotions fueled his powers. Kai’s one of the first people out the door, slamming it open as hard as he can and storming some ways down the hall.

~~~

Kai wants so badly to label Tinker as a villain who should be in prison. He wants to fall back on the comfort of a black and white world that’s been drilled into him by his League training, and not think about the image of the shaking and whimpering villain on the floor just an hour ago. But the whole spectacle made Kai a little queasy; now, he can’t blame Jasper for puking his guts out. And the way Miguel so clearly sees him as a tool, a means to an end to advance his career makes Kai see red. Partly on Jasper’s behalf, partly out of his hatred of Miguel and the politics of the League, and partly out of frustration with himself for caring about, worrying about the infuriating villain.

Kai couldn’t remember ever hearing him speak when they fought—his mask, which covered the lower half of his face, didn’t really allow for it he supposed—but he always got the feeling the kid was laughing at him. That, combined with the way Kai’s powers could actually make Jasper stronger, his electricity more powerful, and how damn fast he was without that even being his power, made every fight so annoying that he’d complain about it till Elijah got sick of it and told him to move on.

Speak of the devil, he hears his partner jogging up behind him as he angrily paces. He stops, forcing himself to let out a long, frustrated sigh as he leans against the wall of the hallway he’d found himself in. Elijah leans against the wall next to him.

“Sooo, I had to set my coffee down during Miguel’s speech because it was getting hotter. Which, y’know, isn’t how that usually works. Wanna talk about it?”

Kai huffs out a light laugh in spite of himself. His boyfriend definitely knows him well.

“Sorry. It was just—well, you know how I feel about Miguel in the first place,” he begins.

Elijah purses his lips. “Mhmm,” he hummed. He’s been hearing about how Kai felt about Miguel since they were in sidekick training together.

“Well, so, I was in one of the bathrooms before the meeting and somebody was throwing up in there, and it was Jasper. Well, before I knew his name was Jasper. I thought, y’know, fucking villain in the Heroes League! And, uh, remind me to tell Mari I burst some more pipes, please,” Kai rambles.

Elijah chuckled. “Will do.”

Kai runs his hands through his hair, putting the thick, dark curls up in a bun to give himself something to do as he speaks. “But, yeah, Jasper told me he was on Miguel’s team, and I went with him to check it out. Halfway there, he just fucking collapsed, twitching and shaking in pain. He was being electrocuted! That wasn't a damn tracker, it was a fucking shock collar!” he exclaims.

“Oh shit,” his partner murmurs. “Miguel lied?”

Kai shakes his head in anger. “Yeah, big surprise. It’s definitely a shock collar, and he’s petrified of it, and they definitely use it. The shock I saw was apparently just a warning.”

“I mean, while I don’t agree with the method, maybe it's a rare thing? They thought he was running away while he was in the bathroom? If he’s confined to their level, I can’t imagine they’d have reason to use it much. Tinker never struck me as the kind to rock the boat with that kind of threat hanging over his head.”

Kai shakes his head again, though he knows Elijah could very well be right. And Tinker is a villain. He’s definitely done bad things.

“I don’t know. I know I shouldn’t care; it’s great that we’re getting intelligence on Nero and Psychosis. And whatever is going on with the “project,” it’s probably better than prison. But I don’t know, something about it is really bugging me. I keep picturing him shaking on the floor,” he finishes quietly, some of the anger ebbing from his body in the calming presence of his partner, only to be replaced by worry—which is almost worse.

Kai tries desperately to find a way to better explain himself, the knot in his stomach that was growing bigger and bigger the more he thought about the kid.

“It’s also just, the whole spectacle, putting him on display and talking about him like he wasn’t even there. He’s obviously just a political pawn for Miguel.”

“Yeah, I picked up on that. It was pretty gross.”

Kai nods. “I don’t know; it pisses me off because I feel bad for him, but he’s a villain, so I shouldn’t, but I definitely do and—ugh.” He runs his hands across his face only to slide them into his hair and tug, totally overwhelmed with the conflict twisting his stomach.

Elijah takes the pause in his rambling to step in front of him and gently pull his hands from his scalp. His thumbs rub soothing little circles across them, as he says, “Hey, first of all, it’s okay to feel whatever you’re feeling. You saw someone in pain, and that felt bad, and that’s a good thing. If it’ll make you feel better, maybe we can find a way to visit him. Just to check in? That team asks for extra manpower all the time. They’re hardly balanced.”

“Yeah, okay, that sounds good.”

Kai sighs dramatically, “Damn moral compass.”

Elijah laughs. “Oh, yeah, you poor thing, you have compassion for other human beings.”

The teasing finally pulls an involuntary smile from Kai, and he gently takes Elijah’s chin for a chaste kiss that’s all goofy grins.

“Thanks, Eli.”

“Anytime,” Elijah says, leaning in for another kiss.

Suddenly there’s a loud groan he’d recognize anywhere from down the hall. Kai reluctantly, a little self-consciously, turns his attention to his team coming down the hall—the other three members having finally tracked the two lovebirds down. The groan definitely came from Isla, the young ginger pyromaniac of the team.

Elijah’s not having it though and pulls Kai back with a soft hand on his cheek.

This time it’s Lizzy’s turn to complain, loudly. “Get a fucking room!”

Kai breaks the kiss to laugh at that, and Elijah gives up. He turns to the team, pouting, “Y���all never let me have any fun.”

He chuckles, but still rubs Elijah’s arm in a simple apology, wordlessly promising to make up for it later. He lets himself be pulled into carefree conversation with his team, doing his best to ignore the knot still settled in his stomach, and the image of Jasper convulsing on the floor still imprinted in his brain.

~~~

I can now show y’all funny little bit of speed brain dump that manifested his and elijah’s dynamic

Kai is not fuckin happy to have a villain in the hero building

Kai witnesses some of the abuse

Kai: Elijah (boyf) help I'm not used to being conflicted like this what is happening to me

Elijah: it's called empathy babe.

Kai: WELL I DONT LIKE IT

Bonus scene w/ Kai’s team and Mira: “Did you have to burst the pipes again, Kai?” “Well, I wasn’t gonna use the fuckin’ toilet water.” “What’s the difference?” “Yuck, you used the sewage water, Kai?” “I know which pipes are clean assholes!” *giggling* “Goddamn, how many times have you burst the bathroom pipes that you just know which ones are clean?” *angry waterboy grumbling*

~~~

tags!! hello friends!! lmk if you wanna be added or removed!!

@whumpsday @sergeant-jasper @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @crystalrose141 @aloafofbreadwithanxiety

@paingoes @elizaisnotokay @quaggasus @defire @tonystark604

@writereleaserepeat @whump-queen @clickerflight @gliittergelpens @kawaii-cakes

@whump-in-a-million @scoundrelwithboba @idkwhattodowiththisaltiamsorry @vampiresprite

[jetii]

Event Horizon

Chapter Ten: Truth

Chapter WC: 8,808

Chapter Tags/Warnings: none

A/N: Checked the wordcount on the completed chapters doc today and it's over 100k already?? anyway the next few chapters are for real my fav. i live for the drama

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Coruscant, 21 BBY

"I can't believe they gave me Archive duty," Ahsoka groans, rolling her eyes. 

You smirk, turning the page of the dusty tomb lying in front of you. You had managed to escape the ire of the Council thanks to Obi-Wan, but Ahsoka was not so lucky. She was sentenced to "volunteer work" at the Temple Archives indefinitely, a punishment that she seemed to take very personally. 

You had offered to keep her company while you were still recovering, and you had to admit, when you weren’t forced to be here, it was kind of fun. There was something calming about the Archives, the smell of old paper and leather, the dim light, the quiet.

You'd spent more time here than most other Jedi, and even though the work was often tedious, it was something you found peace in. Ahsoka didn't seem to feel the same.

"It's not that bad," you say, your eyes scanning the page. "Besides, if you hadn't disobeyed Anakin, this wouldn't have happened."

"Well, maybe, if he hadn't given the order in the first place—"

"Ahsoka."

"I know, I know," she sighs, her shoulders slumping. She pushes the crate she was organizing to the side and collapses on a nearby bench, her arms crossed. "He's just...so frustrating sometimes."

"Yeah," you chuckle. “He is.”

“Did you ever feel that way about Master Yaddle?"

"Sometimes," you reply. You glance up from your reading and smile at her. "But I’m sure I frustrated her much more. I’m still not sure why she took me as her Padawan, honestly."

"Because you're a great Jedi," Ahsoka points out. She grins and leans forward, her chin resting on her hands. "And, because, despite what you say, you're actually pretty nice."

"Nice?"

"Yeah," she laughs. "You're one of the few Jedi I can talk to about things. You listen. Not everyone does."

"You could talk to Master Plo, or Anakin, or even Obi-Wan," you say, closing the book. You look at her, a frown on your face. "There's a lot more Jedi in the Temple."

"I know, but..." Her voice trails off, and her expression grows sad, the humor fading. “You’re the only one who’s not trying to teach me some kind of lesson. Who isn’t expecting something from me. You don't care that I'm young, or that I'm not a real Jedi yet, or—"

"You are a real Jedi," you interrupt. You stand and walk over to her, taking a seat beside her, your hands resting on your knees. "Don't ever doubt that. I don't. I know how strong you are, and I know what you're capable of. And, so does Anakin. Don't let this one mistake define you."

She sighs and rests her elbows on her thighs, her chin cupped in her palms. "I know, but it's hard," she says quietly. "Everyone has an opinion, and they're all just waiting for me to mess up again. To prove that I'm not fit to be a Jedi."

"That's not true," you tell her. "The Council might be a little disappointed with your actions, but no one doubts that you belong here, Ahsoka. No one."

She doesn't respond.

You watch her carefully, your brow furrowed. It isn’t lost on you how similar her words are to your own internal monologue, and how often she mirrors your own thoughts and fears. She’s just a kid, and you remember being her age, the pressure, the weight of expectation, and the struggle to be enough.

While you doubt you’ll ever feel like you measure up, or will ever stop feeling like an outsider, you know, deep down, that no matter what happens, the Order is where you belong. You belong with the Jedi. There is no other place for you than here.

"If it makes you feel any better," you say, trying to lighten the mood. You nudge her shoulder. “You’re only continuing the tradition of disobedience set by your Masters before you. Anakin, Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon—“ you pause and let out a sharp breath before continuing “—and his master have all done their time here. Practically a rite of passage, I’d say.”

She rolls her eyes and nudges you back. "You're not funny."

"Sure I am."

“You can’t honestly expect me to believe Master Kenobi ever had to do this," she scoffs. "I mean, he's like, the perfect Jedi."

"Ha! Well, I guess you'd be surprised." 

You smirk, remembering the many times Obi-Wan had come to your aid during your years as younglings, covering for you and, often, getting himself into just as much trouble as you.

It was always Obi-Wan, with his clever words and quick wit, who got the two of you out of hot water, and you always found it amusing how no one seemed to realize it was him who had started the whole thing. It was like people couldn’t see past the image they had of him, or their assumptions, and it made him the perfect accomplice. 

"We caused plenty of chaos back in the day,” you add with a fond smile. "I can't even begin to tell you all the stories I could share. I have years worth of them."

"Oh really?"

"Yep," you confirm. "Obi-Wan was a terror."

Ahsoka snorts and raises an eyebrow. "Now I know you're lying."

"It's true. He was a troublemaker. Still is, if I'm being honest,” you laugh. "We were the worst influences on each other. That's probably why we became such good friends."

"I can't imagine Master Obi-Wan doing anything even close to disobeying the rules," Ahsoka says. She leans forward, her chin in her palms, a mischievous grin on her face. You smile back and cross your legs, settling into the bench. "I'm going to need proof, or a story. Either will do."

"What do you want to hear?"

"Something crazy," she prompts. "Something he would never tell me. Something wild. And then I'll believe it."

You chuckle and lean back against the wall, your eyes drifting, the memories filling your mind. You could think of a hundred different tales, many of them far too embarrassing to repeat, and most of them you doubted would be appropriate to tell an impressionable teenager. You were not the best storyteller, but if Ahsoka wanted entertainment, you could oblige. If only a little.

"Okay, okay, let's see..." you muse, thinking. "Okay, here's one. When I was thirteen years old, Obi-Wan was a newly made Padawan, and I was still a youngling. One day, we had a day off from training, and, well, let's just say, we weren't exactly sticking around the Temple."

"Where did you go?"

"Well, Obi-Wan had heard about this place," you continue, smiling. "Apparently, there was this abandoned warehouse deep in the lower levels, converted it into a kind of club. It was the coolest thing we had ever seen, and we were determined to get in. Only problem was, we were a bit too young. Not that that stopped us. We had been going to this club, sneaking out, for about a week, before a member of the Jedi Council caught us."

"Which one?"

"Master Plo, actually,” you say, a smirk tugging at your lips. "We got lucky. I think he was more impressed than upset."

Ahsoka lets out a snort and covers her mouth. "No."

"Yes," you insist. "He caught us sneaking out of the Temple and followed us. We made it all the way to the warehouse before we realized he was right behind us."

"How did you get away with it?"

"We didn't," you chuckle. "I think we had a few choice words with the Council that night. But we got to go back to the club a few more times before we were caught again. Obi-Wan managed to get himself banned a few months later, though. Something about trying to fight a guy over a girl."

You look away, biting your cheek. Ahsoka didn't need to know that you were the girl. That it was the first, and the only time that the two of you had kissed. You were both so young, and it was nothing more than a childish attempt at romance. It was a bittersweet memory, tinged with a touch of guilt, and you had long ago buried it.

"I'll have to ask him about that," she teases. "I bet there's a lot more stories he'd never tell me."

"You can try," you challenge. "Good luck."

"What was he like?" Ahsoka asks. She shifts on the bench, turning her body toward you, her eyes sparkling. "Before he was a Knight, or a Master, or...all that. What was he like back then?"

"He was different," you tell her. You hesitate, your brow furrowing, and you shrug. "He was...happier. More carefree. He didn't take things as seriously as he does now."

"He's still pretty carefree," Ahsoka points out. She tilts her head, her gaze growing thoughtful, and a small frown tugs at her lips. "I've never really seen him angry, or upset. Except for when you were in the bacta tank."

You pause. You hadn't thought much about Obi-Wan while you were recovering. Your mind had been a bit preoccupied with other matters, but now, looking back, you had noticed the dark circles under his eyes, and the tension in his shoulders, and the way his jaw clenched every time someone brought up the battle. It had only been a week since your return, and yet, he seemed to have aged ten years, and the worry was still plain on his face. 

Even now, there was still a distance, a coldness, between the two of you. He hadn't been by the Healers Ward again, and he'd avoided you at the debriefing with the Council even though he'd spoken in your favor.

"He was worried," you say simply. You glance down at your hands and twist your fingers, swallowing the sudden tightness in your throat.

"I’m sure you’ve noticed that we share a bond. Something like a Master and Padawan bond. It's stronger, because we were raised together, and because our abilities complement each other, and, well, because we've spent our whole lives together."

"What is it like?" she asks. Her eyes are wide, and she's listening intently, her attention focused on you. "Having a bond with someone? Does it hurt?"

"Sometimes," you confess. You let out a heavy sigh, and you look down, your expression troubled. "When the other person is in danger, or suffering, it can be difficult to deal with. And, sometimes, it can be overwhelming. Obi-Wan is quite skilled at shielding, but...I’m not so fortunate. I’m sure feeling my pain was not easy for him."

It’s an excuse, and you know it. But the truth was much harder to admit. Obi-Wan being upset enough at your injuries that Ahsoka had picked up on it was an uncomfortable thought. The reality of how deeply you had hurt him, and the fact that you hadn’t even considered how he would feel, was not something you were prepared to deal with. Not right now. Perhaps not ever.

"You're close," she comments, her voice soft. She hesitates, and she gives you a sad smile, her eyes searching yours. "I...I don't have a bond with Anakin. Not like you and Master Kenobi. I've always wondered what it would be like."

"It's strange," you reply slowly. You shrug and give her a rueful smile. "It’s been this way for so long, and I just...I don't know. I don't know what it's like not to have it. The closest we ever came to losing it completely was after..."

You trail off, your smile fading, and you turn away, unable to meet her eyes. "After the Naboo incident. Things were never the same, after that."

Ahsoka doesn't say anything.

You can't blame her. You don't have the words. There's so much left unsaid, so much you could tell her, but you know you won't. It's not the right time. Perhaps it will never be the right time. And so, instead, you change the subject, pushing the pain and the regret away, burying it under the weight of a smile. 

"What else do you want to know?"

Ahsoka's gaze grows thoughtful, and she leans back, resting her head against the wall, her brow furrowed. She looks up, and her lips purse, her fingers tapping against her thighs. 

Finally, she smiles, a wicked glint in her eyes. "What about Rex?"

Your eyes widen, and you can feel the color draining from your face, the shock making you speechless. You hadn't expected that question, and it takes a moment for you to regain your composure, your mind scrambling to think of a response. But Ahsoka doesn't wait. 

Instead, she keeps talking, the grin growing. "Rex told Anakin that you had saved his life."

"Yes," you say cautiously. You frown, and you cross your arms, raising an eyebrow. "And?"

"Well," she draws the word out, and she sits up, her elbows on her knees, her hands clasped. "Anakin said he'd never seen you act like that before."

You open your mouth to respond, and then close it, unsure of what to say.

"So," she presses. "Are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Friends."

"Yes," you snap. "Of course we're friends. He's a friend. We're friends. Is that a problem?"

"No, no," she replies quickly. "Of course not."

"Good."

"But—"

"Ahsoka," you interrupt, and you let out a sharp breath, your fingers rubbing your temples. "There is no but. Rex is a friend. I saved his life. End of story."

"Sure," she agrees. Her expression is far too innocent, and you're not going to play into whatever she's thinking. You stand and return to the table, picking up the book, and Ahsoka follows, sitting down next to you. "I just thought, maybe, there was something else."

"Like what?"

"Oh, I don't know," she says, feigning nonchalance. She pulls another book off the pile and begins leafing through the pages, a casual, carefree tone to her voice. "He's been asking about you."

Your head snaps up, and you stare at her, the shock giving way to surprise, and then hope, the flutter in your chest returning. "He has?"

Realizing your mistake, you bite your cheek and look back down at the book, your heart pounding, and your throat suddenly dry. You swallow, and you try to ignore the heat rising in your cheeks,and the feeling in your chest. 

Rex had been asking about you. He had talked to Anakin about you. Those were perfectly normal, innocent, things for him to do. Nothing strange. Nothing to indicate anything more.

"Mmhmm," Ahsoka hums, her eyes flicking up, a hint of a smirk tugging at her lips. She looks back down, the grin growing, and she nudges your shoulder. "He was worried the Council was going to punish you for saving him."

"That's it?"

"I'm not sure," she muses. She tilts her head, her fingers drumming against the book, her expression thoughtful. "He seemed pretty concerned. More than he normally is."

You shake your head and lean forward, pretending to be engrossed in the text.

"I'm sure he was just being polite," you mumble. You keep your eyes on the page, but your mind is elsewhere, and the words blur before your eyes. You force yourself to keep reading, not daring to look up. "I doubt he was all that worried."

"Hm," Ahsoka says.

You wait a few more moments, and then, when Ahsoka doesn't speak, you glance over at her. She's looking at you, her lips pursed, a knowing smile on her face. You stare at her, and she stares back, and finally, you roll your eyes, letting out a sigh.

"Fine," you grumble. You shut the book and shove it away, leaning back in the chair, your arms crossed. "We are friends, and I enjoy his company. Is that what you want to hear?"

Ahsoka shrugs and grins, and you can't help the smile tugging at your lips.

"He's a good person," she says. She's not looking at you anymore, but she's smiling, and you can tell she's holding back a laugh. "Very loyal."

"Yes, he is," you agree. You look away, a frown forming, and your voice drops. "And a good soldier."

There's a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, a heaviness, a sudden sadness that you hadn't expected. You're not sure what brought it on, but it's there, a reminder of the truth, of the reality. You swallow the lump in your throat, and you glance down, your fingers tracing the cover of the book, a strange numbness settling in.

"Yeah." Ahsoka looks at you, and her brow furrows, the teasing tone gone. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," you lie. You force a smile and shrug. "Everything's fine."

"You're sure?" she asks. She looks skeptical, her head tilted, and she frowns. "You look...upset."

"I'm not."

"You don't have to lie," she says. She shifts in her chair, and she turns to face you, her hand resting on your arm, her expression earnest. "If there's something wrong, you can tell me. I won't judge."

"I know," you reply softly. "But there's nothing to tell. I'm fine."

She doesn't believe you. You can tell by the way she's looking at you, her eyes narrowed, and her lips pursed. Ahsoka doesn't press the issue, though, and you're grateful for that. You don't want to talk about it, and, honestly, you're not sure if you can. Or, if, when the words come out, they'll sound as stupid as they do in your head.

"Now," you say, and you push yourself up, grabbing a crate. You walk over to the other side of the room and begin sorting through the books, setting them on the shelves. "Let's get back to work."

"Ugh, not more sorting."

"It's your punishment," you point out. "Besides, I've had enough excitement for one day. I could use some boring, manual labor."

"I guess," Ahsoka mutters.

You laugh, and you return to your task, the quiet settling over the room. Ahsoka sighs and does the same, and the two of you spend the rest of the afternoon in silence, only occasionally exchanging a few words. 

The sun begins to set, and the shadows grow, and soon, the entire room is bathed in the orange glow of the sunset, the warmth filling the air. It's peaceful, and comfortable, and it's exactly what you need. No drama. No complications. No one trying to get into your head, or telling you how to live your life. It's the kind of solitude you haven't had in a long time, and, even if you can't enjoy it for long, it's a nice respite from the chaos.

You're not sure how much time has passed, or how long the two of you have been working, but the silence is broken when the door slides open. You turn and watch as Obi-Wan enters the room, a smile on his face, his hands tucked in his sleeves. He greets the both of you and comes to stand beside the table, his attention focused on you. His expression is serious, his eyes searching, and you avoid his gaze.

"I hope I'm not interrupting," he says, his voice polite, and his words carefully chosen. You can tell he's uncomfortable, and it makes you uneasy. "I was hoping I might have a word with you, if you're not too busy."

"Of course," you reply.

You look over at Ahsoka, who’s staring at the two of you, her gaze flicking between you, and she smirks, standing and grabbing the crate she had been organizing. "I'll give you some privacy."

"Thank you."

She leaves the room, leaving you and Obi-Wan alone, the quiet a heavy, uncomfortable, thing. You don't know what to say, or what to do, and it's an awkward few moments before he breaks the silence, clearing his throat, his hands moving to clasp behind his back.

"I was wondering how you were," he says. He takes a step toward you, and he hesitates, his eyes dropping. "I haven't seen much of you these past few days."

"Yes," you mumble. You cross your arms and shrug, avoiding his gaze. "I've been, um, busy. You know. Helping with the Archives. And healing."

"I see."

There's another pause.

"So," he says. "Are you feeling better? Has the Healers Ward released you yet?"

"They released me a few days ago," you tell him as you turn, walking over to the window, your fingers brushing along the ledge. "They were quite happy with my recovery. It didn't take long for me to heal."

"That's good."

"And, I feel fine," you add, turning to look at him. "I've been back in training for a few days now."

"Good."

"Good."

"Well," he says. He steps forward and stops, his hand on the back of a chair, his expression guarded. "I'm glad you're back on your feet."

"Yes," you murmur. "It's, uh, it's good to be back."

He gives you a curt nod, and you nod back, and then there's another long, agonizing, silence. You look at him, and he looks at you, and when it becomes too much, you turn away, your fingers tracing the window frame, the metal cool beneath your fingertips.

"You said you wanted to speak with me?" you ask the window.

"Yes."

You hear him take a deep breath, and when you look over your shoulder, he's staring at the floor, his brow furrowed, his jaw clenched. It's strange to see him so...distraught. So unsure of himself.

"I came to apologize," he says quietly. He crosses his arms, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. "For my actions the other day. I was not myself, and I should not have acted as I did."

"Oh," you murmur.

"I was...wrong to have treated you as I did. You didn't deserve it. And I was out of line."

You let out a sigh and close your eyes. "Obi-Wan..."

"Please," he interrupts, and his tone is pleading, and it stops you. "I need to say this."

"Alright," you say. You move away from the window, and you lean against the table, your arms crossed and your brow furrowed. "Say what you need to."

"I was angry," he admits, and the words hang in the air, heavy and sharp. He pauses and takes a breath, and you can tell he's choosing his words carefully. "I was upset. You have no idea how much it hurt, seeing you like that. Lying there, unconscious. Not knowing if you would make it. I..."

He trails off, and he looks away, his lips pressed into a thin line.

"And I know," he continues. He looks back up, his eyes meeting yours, and you can't help but see the pain, the hurt, the desperation. "I know that you would do it again, if given the choice. And I can't blame you for it. But it doesn't make it any easier."

"Obi-Wan," you murmur. You can feel your eyes burning, and you swallow the sudden lump in your throat. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

"I know," he says. "I know."

"I wasn't thinking. I was acting on instinct, and—"

"I know," he repeats, his voice gentle. "It was not your fault. You did what was right, and, had it been anyone else, I would have been proud. You saved a life. That is something to be celebrated. But...you're not just anyone."

"I can't promise that I won't do it again," you tell him. "If the situation arises, I won't hesitate to save another soldier. Even if they're not a Jedi. Or a friend."

He smiles, a small, sad thing, and he nods. 

"I wouldn't expect any less," he says. He steps toward you, and he takes your hand, squeezing gently. "It is, after all, one of the many reasons I admire you."

You can't help the smirk tugging at your lips. "Well, that, and dazzling personality and my good looks, right?"

"Among others," he teases. His expression grows solemn, and he glances down, his thumb running over your knuckles. "I'm sorry. For everything. I'm sure the last thing you need is for me to be acting as I was."

"Well, with the amount of tantrums Anakin and I have thrown over the years, it's only fair that you get to have one every once in a while."

Obi-Wan grimaces and shakes his head "Please, don't remind me."

"You're not still mad, are you?" you ask. He tilts his head, a faint frown pulling at his lips. "I mean, you're not going to lecture me again, are you?"

"No," he replies, his tone wry. "Not today."

"Good."

"You're not completely forgiven, though."

"What?"

"I'm afraid that, if we're ever in a similar situation," he continues, his voice casual, his eyes narrowing, "and if you ever make me think you're dying again, I will be forced to have a very stern conversation with you."

You roll your eyes. "Obi-Wan..."

"I mean it," he insists. "I'll have no choice."

"Well," you drawl. You pull your hand free and push yourself away from the table, crossing your arms. "If I die, and you feel the need to lecture my corpse, by all means, go right ahead. I won't stop you."

He gives you a flat look, and you hold back a smile, raising an eyebrow.

"We'll see," he says finally. His lips twitch, and he sighs, rubbing his forehead. "In all seriousness, though, I am sorry. For everything. I was unfair, and I shouldn't have blamed you. I shouldn't have taken out my anger on you."

"No," you agree softly. "You shouldn't have."

"I know," he sighs. He runs a hand through his hair and takes a step closer to you, his hand reaching out to grasp your elbow, his touch gentle. "I don't want us to be like this. We've fought enough over the years. I want you to know that I trust you, and despite my fears, and the concerns I have, I will always support you. Whatever decisions you make."

You let out a breath, and his hand moves, sliding up your arm, coming to rest on the back of your neck. He gives you a smile, and there's a flicker of regret and sorrow before he pulls you forward, his forehead resting against yours. His grip tightens, and you put your hands on his waist, holding onto him.

"Thank you," you whisper.

"I'll always be here for you," he says softly. "Whenever you need me."

You smile and lift your chin, brushing your lips across his cheek, a fleeting, brief, touch. "And I'll always be here for you. Whatever you need."

He chuckles and squeezes your neck, his breath warm on your skin. "I appreciate the sentiment."

"Now," you murmur, and you pull away, your hands moving to rest on his chest. "What I really need right now is a stiff drink."

He raises an eyebrow. "That is not what you need right now."

"But it would help," you insist. "A lot."

"No."

"C'mon," you beg, your hands curling in the fabric of his tunic. You give him a pout, and he groans, his eyes closing. "It'll be fun. Just like old times."

"You are not getting me into any more trouble than I'm already in," he says. He pulls your hands off of him, and he holds them in his, a stern look on his face. "The Council has already spoken to me about your reckless behavior. I'd prefer not to give them more reason to doubt me."

"They won't know," you promise. You squeeze his hands, your eyes bright. "We'll be careful."

"You don't know how to be careful."

"Then teach me," you counter, a smirk playing on your lips.

He lets out a sigh, and his brow furrows, his mouth twisting. You can see the temptation in his eyes, the desire to give in, and it's only a matter of time before you convince him. He hesitates, glancing over at the door. "It is late. Most people should be gone by now."

"See?" you say. "Easy. Quick drink. No one will see."

"Fine," he concedes. "But we will not be staying long."

"Thank you."

You release his hands and step back, your fingers lacing together, your grin widening. Obi-Wan gives you an exasperated look and gestures for you to go, and you laugh and start to back away.

"I'll meet you at the usual place," you tell him. You turn and head for the door, calling over your shoulder. "Don't keep me waiting."

"Wouldn't dream of it!" he calls out, his tone amused. "Just...don't get us caught."

"Never," you promise.

You're through the door and gone before he can say anything else, and the moment you're alone, you take a deep breath and run a hand through your hair. It's not until you're nearly to your quarters that the nerves begin to settle in, and the excitement gives way to apprehension, a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach.

You're still a bit wary of Obi-Wan's sudden change in mood. It's unlike him to act like he did, and to be so openly hostile. And, as much as you'd like to believe that everything is alright, that things were fine, there was still something gnawing at the back of your mind. 

The look on his face when you told him how you saved Rex's life was burned into your memory. You couldn't help but be reminded of how he looked at you the day after your knighting, when you'd told him your plan to find Yaddle's killer, and he'd treated you like a child.

It was the same, the same disdain and anger, the same look of disappointment, and the same, cold, distance. The only difference was, this time, you hadn't done anything wrong. You had saved a life. There was nothing for him to be disappointed about.

But the look was there, the same unspoken accusation. And it stung.

It’s only then that you realize he’d neglected to let his walls down during the conversation. There had been no opening, no chance to see into his mind. No moment of vulnerability. You hadn’t noticed, and now, you couldn’t understand why. It didn't make sense.

Obi-Wan had never kept his thoughts and feelings hidden from you before. He had never been afraid to show his emotions, or his pain. It was always you who'd had trouble with it, who'd struggled with letting him see the truth. He was the one who always opened up.

And now, he wasn't. 

You shake the thought from your mind and continue on, ignoring the unease growing in your chest. He'd apologized then, and he apologized now, and he meant it. You didn't need the Force to know that. And he'd agreed to sneak out with you, which was more than he would have done if he was truly upset with you.

You would have a nice evening, and nothing else would happen. And tomorrow, the two of you would move on. Everything would go back to normal.

You reach your quarters, and you let yourself in, making a beeline for the fresher. You don't waste any time and strip out of your robes, stepping under the hot spray, and you wash quickly, rinsing the day's grime and sweat off. The water cascades down your body, washing the tension away, the warmth enveloping you, and for the first time in days, you can breathe, the knot in your chest loosening.

Once you're finished, you dry yourself and step back into the room, rummaging through the pile of clothes haphazardly thrown in your dresser. You pull out a simple shirt and a pair of pants, and you dress, slipping on a pair of boots and a cropped leather jacket. It's been too long since you've dressed so casually, and it feels odd, like you're not yourself. But, it's also a refreshing change from stifling robes.

You comb your hair, pulling the wet strands back into a loose braid, and you're ready. You check the time and grab a few credits from the dresser, shoving them into your pocket, and you're out the door.

You arrive at the bar a short while later, and you spot Obi-Wan sitting in the corner, a glass in his hand and his attention on the crowd. He sees you and smiles, and you make your way through the room, the noise and the heat hitting you. He's wearing civilian clothes, his hair loose around his face, his beard trimmed, and he looks almost relaxed. Almost.

You reach the table and slide into the seat across from him, his gaze appraising. You can't help but blush, and you cross your arms, giving him a look.

"What?" you ask.

"Nothing," he replies. His eyes linger on yours for a moment longer, and then they trail over the rest of your body, his lips quirking. "It's just been a while since I've seen you like this. It's...refreshing."

"Well," you say, leaning forward. You lower your voice, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. "I wouldn't want to draw any attention to myself."

He chuckles, and his eyes sparkle with amusement, a glint of something else in their depths. "I appreciate the effort."

You smile and reach over, plucking his glass from his hand. He doesn't protest, and you take a sip, the liquor burning as it goes down. You set the glass back on the table, and his gaze lingers, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. You raise an eyebrow and stare at him, and he shakes his head, pushing himself up.

"I'm going to get another drink," he says. He nods his head towards the bar. "Would you like one?"

"Yes, please."

"I'll be right back."

He leaves, and you watch him walk away, and the moment he's out of earshot, you groan, the realization of what you'd done, and where you were, setting in. It was bad enough that the two of you had snuck off to a cantina together, and were dressed like this, but it was even worse that it felt...odd. Strange. And you weren't sure why. It was the same as every other time you'd met him for drinks, and yet, it wasn't.

There was something different. Something...off. You couldn't quite put your finger on it, but it was there, and it made you uneasy. Like the calm before a storm.

"Hey," someone says.

You turn and see a man standing next to the table, a bottle of something in his hand, his smile friendly. You can't help the sigh that escapes you. It was going to be one of those nights.

"Hey," you reply. Your eyes drop, and you frown, the words on the bottle blurring. It's some sort of liquor, and a cheap one at that. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, I'm hoping I could buy a beautiful woman a drink," he says. He sets the bottle down and pulls out the chair, sitting. You glance around the room, looking for Obi-Wan. There's no sign of him. "And, maybe, have a chat. Get to know each other."

"Look," you begin, and your voice is strained, the exhaustion starting to creep in. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm not—"

"C'mon," he insists. He grabs the bottle and opens it, pouring a shot. He pushes it towards you, a grin on his face. "Just one drink."

"No, thank you."

“You won’t regret it.”

“No.”

"One drink," he repeats. He lifts the glass and nods, and when you don't move, his smile fades. "Don't be rude."

"Oh, I'm being rude?" you snap. You stand, and you tower over him, your hand on the table. He stares up at you, his mouth hanging open. "I've had a long week, and I'm not in the mood. Now, leave me alone."

"Alright, alright," he mutters. He stands and picks up the bottle, backing away. "You don't have to get so upset."

You don't reply, and he turns and walks away, disappearing into the crowd. You let out a breath and slump back into the chair, rubbing your forehead. It's not long before you're joined again, but this time, it's Obi-Wan who slides into the seat, a bottle and two glasses in his hand. He notices the look on your face, and he raises an eyebrow.

"Another admirer?"

"Yes," you mutter. You take the glass he offers and down it, and he stares at you, concern flickering across his features. "I guess I'm not used to the attention anymore."

"Hm," he hums. He takes the glass from you and refills it, his brow furrowing. "You shouldn't be out here like this. You're too..."

"What?"

"I just..." he sighs and runs a hand through his hair. He looks down and frowns. "I worry."

"Obi-Wan, I'm not made of glass," you snap. "And I'm not some defenseless child. I'm not going to shatter because some idiot tries to hit on me."

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?"

He looks at you, and he sighs, his eyes searching yours. He opens his mouth to speak, and you brace yourself for whatever he's going to say, knowing that it's going to be a lecture, or a reminder of why you shouldn't be out here. Of why you shouldn't be with him. That it's not safe. That it's a risk. 

But, he doesn't say any of those things. Instead, his eyes drop, and his jaw clenches, and when he finally speaks, it's a whisper, the words soft and gentle. 

"You're a beautiful woman. A powerful, intelligent, wonderful, woman," he says. He looks at you, his expression open, and you can't help the way your heart leaps into your throat. "You have an air of confidence and determination, and...you're breathtaking. It's impossible not to notice you. Especially here."

You gape at him, and his lips twitch, his eyes darkening, a hint of mischief in his gaze. "I can't blame him for trying. I would, too, if I were him."

You can feel the heat spreading across your cheeks, the flush creeping up your neck. He's always been honest with you, and open, but this is different. He's never said anything like this before. You feel yourself scrambling, trying to regain your composure, and when you do, you let out a shaky laugh.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi," you say. You lean forward, your arms resting on the table, a smirk playing on your lips. "Is that jealousy I hear?"

"Not at all," he assures you, and the sincerity is almost believable. He leans closer, and his gaze drops, his voice low. "If anyone is jealous, it's him. He'll never have you. Not the way I do."

Your smirk widens, and you laugh, taking the bottle from his hand and pouring another shot. "Well, you have nothing to worry about. I'm here with you, aren't I?"

"Yes, you are."

You hold his gaze, and you down the shot, the alcohol burning. It's a dangerous game, and the both of you know it, and, as much as you want to keep pushing, and prodding, and testing his limits, you know better. It's best to let it go. It's best to move on. Besides, this was supposed to be fun.

"So," you say, pushing the bottle away, a small smile on your face. "Now that you're done worrying about me, can we finally have some fun? I didn't come here to sit and mope."

"Of course." He raises his glass and tilts his head. "To us."

"To us."

The rest of the evening is a blur. It passes in a haze of alcohol and laughter, the conversation turning to trivial things. There's no mention of the war, or Felucia, or the Council, and you're glad. You need a night off, and a break from everything, and you know Obi-Wan does too. The two of you have had so few chances to relax, and even fewer to spend time together. 

You find yourselves falling back into the routine of years past, and, as the evening wears on, the two of you become more and more carefree. You're laughing and teasing, and Obi-Wan's telling stories about his adventures as a young padawan, and your memories of the past come flooding back. The times the two of you have snuck off, and the things you've done, and the trouble you've gotten into. And it's nice. Comforting. To be with him, and to enjoy his company. Even if you know it can't last.

You've managed to drag Obi-Wan out onto the balcony, and the two of you are leaning against the railing, watching the people below, the wind ruffling your hair. You can feel his warmth, and his arm is pressing into yours, and the alcohol has left a pleasant buzz in your head. You're not quite drunk, but, judging by the flush in Obi-Wan's cheeks, he's further along than you are.

"I have a confession," he mutters. You raise an eyebrow, and he gives you a crooked smile. "I've missed this. Missed...us. Doing this. Being here."

"Yeah," you murmur. You glance at him, and he meets your gaze, his eyes bright. "I've missed this too."

"We should do it more often," he says. He reaches over and brushes a strand of hair from your cheek, his touch lingering, his thumb stroking your skin. "Spend time together. Outside the Temple."

"Obi-Wan."

"What?"

"Don't do this."

"I'm not doing anything," he counters. He turns to face you, his expression earnest, his voice soft. "I'm not saying that we should be together. Or that we should..." He trails off, and his eyes flick down, a flicker of hesitation crossing his features. "But, I've missed this. And, I think you have too."

"Obi-Wan..." You let out a breath and run a hand through your hair, the words slipping out before you can stop them. "What's wrong with you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're...different," you explain. You shrug and turn away, looking out over the city. "It's not just tonight. You've been acting strange for weeks. Ever since Felucia. I just..." You shake your head sigh, glancing over at him. "Are you sure you're alright? That everything is okay?"

"Yes," he replies, and the reply is quick, and curt, and too easy. You stare at him, and he shrugs, a frown tugging at his lips. "I'm fine."

"Are you?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You tell me," you snap. You turn and lean against the railing, crossing your arms, your glare hard. "Because, one minute, you're angry with me, and the next, you're...this. Tell me what's going on."

He holds your gaze for a moment, and then his eyes drop, his hand coming up to cover his face as a low groan escapes him.

"I don't know," he mutters. He takes a step closer and leans against the railing, his arm brushing against yours. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Obi-Wan..."

"I'm tired," he whispers. He looks over at you, his eyes sad, his voice hollow. "I'm tired of the war. I'm tired of the fighting. I'm tired of losing people. And...I'm tired of having to pretend."

"Pretend what?"

"Everything," he answers. His hand drops to the railing, his fingers curling around the metal, his grip tight. "Who I am. How I feel. What I'm thinking. What I want." He turns and looks at you, his eyes meeting yours, a flicker of emotion crossing his features. "What I want with you."

"And, how do you feel?" you ask softly. "What do you want with me?"

He swallows and turns away, his eyes focused on the skyline, and you can see the struggle in his face. He doesn't speak, and the silence grows heavy, and uncomfortable, and you let out a frustrated sigh.

"Obi-Wan—"

"I care for you. I have always cared for you. More than I should. More than is right."

He turns to face you, and there's a desperation in his eyes, and a longing, and you know where this is going. You know what he wants to say.

But, he doesn't. Instead, he sighs, his shoulders slumping, and he shakes his head.

"You mean the world to me, and I don't want to lose you."

"You're not going to lose me."

"You don't know that," he insists. He takes a step closer, and his hands are on your waist, his touch light, his gaze searching yours. "I'm not the only one who has changed."

"What are you talking about?"

"You're different, too," he says. His hands move, and they slide up your back, his thumbs brushing along your cheek. "The last few months have changed you. And I'm afraid of what will happen. What will change."

"Nothing's going to change," you promise, and your voice is low, and soft. "We're the same. We're just older. And wiser. And maybe a little more jaded. But, we're still the same. You're still the same man who was my first love, and I'm still the same girl who fell for him."

He smiles, a small, sad, thing, and he lets out a breath, his forehead resting against yours. Your eyes close, and your hands move to his chest, the fabric warm and soft beneath your fingers, his heart beating steadily beneath your palm.

The tension in his body melts away, and his touch is gentle, his thumb stroking your cheek. You can't help but press closer, his arms wrapping around you, holding you tight.

"I don't know what I would do without you," he murmurs. He lets out a shaky breath, and you can feel him trembling, the weight of the world, the pain and the fear, bearing down on him. "If anything happened to you, if I lost you..."

"You're not going to lose me," you repeat. You reach up and cup his cheek, your thumb running over his stubble, his beard rough against your skin. "I promise."

Obi-Wan doesn't say anything. Instead, he lets out a quiet, strangled, noise, and his lips are on yours, soft and warm and familiar. 

It's a desperate, needy, kiss, and it's all too easy to give in, to let yourself melt into him, his hands on your face and his mouth moving against yours. You haven't been kissed in years, and you haven't kissed him in even longer, and, despite your best efforts, you can't help but respond, your fingers sliding through his hair, a low moan escaping you.

His grip tightens, and his tongue is in your mouth, his body pressing against yours. You can't think, and you can't breathe, and you can feel his need, his desire, the emotions, raw and unguarded, spilling over. He's shaking, and his lips are insistent, and when he pulls back, his breathing is ragged, his eyes dark.

The two of you stare at each other, the silence stretching between you, and the gravity of the situation hits you. You've been friends for years, and you've been lovers, and now, here you are, on the precipice, and you're teetering on the edge. One more step, and there's no going back. One more step, and everything will change.

A sinking stone settles in the pit of your stomach, the fog of alcohol fleeing, and a wave of regret and shame crashing down. You can't believe what you've done. How far you've fallen. And how easily. After all the years you've spent avoiding each other, and trying to be friends, and now, here you are.

"We shouldn't have done that," you whisper. You push him away and take a step back, and he reaches out, his hand on your elbow. "We shouldn't be doing this."

"You're right," he says. His hand falls, and he looks away, a frown tugging at his lips. "We shouldn't have."

Obi-Wan runs a hand through his hair, his eyes closing, and he lets out a long breath. When he looks at you again, the guilt and the sadness in his eyes is gone, replaced by resignation. He reaches over and gives your shoulder a squeeze, his tone gentle. "Come on, let's go home."

You nod, and he releases you, stepping back. You can't meet his gaze, and you turn, your eyes fixed on the ground, the two of you making your way across the balcony. He keeps his distance, and you keep yours, the silence between you tense and heavy.

You're both back in the Temple a short while later, and Obi-Wan leads you back to your room, his pace quick. He stops outside the door, and his eyes meet yours.

“Will you be alright?” he asks, his brows furrowed.

“Yes,” you mutter. You can't meet his gaze, and you fidget, your eyes on the floor.

He sighs and lifts your chin, forcing you to look at him.

"Look," he says softly. "I'm sorry."

"So am I," you say. "I...shouldn't have let that happen."

"It's not your fault," he assures you. His thumb brushes across your cheek, and he gives you a smile. "We both let it get out of hand."

"Still, we shouldn't have..."

"No," he agrees. His hand falls, and he steps back, his smile turning wry. "We definitely shouldn't have."

You manage a weak smile, and his eyes soften.

"I meant to say this before," he starts. "I didn't want to interrupt the moment. But, I meant it."

"Meant what?"

"What I said earlier," he clarifies. He clears his throat and looks down, his gaze fixed on his shoes, his words hesitant. "I...don't want to lose you. I don't think I could bear it. And...I'll do everything I can to make sure that doesn't happen."

"You're not going to lose me," you promise. You smile and grab his hand, squeezing his fingers, your voice soft. "I'll always be here."

He squeezes back, his eyes soft. "I know you're still struggling with Master Yaddle's death, and everything that's happened, and, well, I'm here. It's not much, but my clearance can help. If there's something you need, if there's something that would aid you in your search, let me know. I'm not going to ask questions. Just...if there's anything that can give you closure, I'll get it for you."

"I appreciate the offer," you reply. "But, I don't think the Council would take too kindly to you helping me. Especially after what happened. They're probably going to be watching us both like hawks for a while."

"Right." He sighs.

"However," you continue. "I'd appreciate it if you could pull any records regarding the last few months she was alive. Missions. Debriefings. Anything."

"Consider it done," he promises.

"Thank you."

"Of course," he says. "Anything else?"

"Actually, yes," you say. "There is something else."

"Yes?"

You step forward and wrap your arms around him, hugging him, and he hugs you back, his cheek resting against your head. You hold him close, breathing in his scent, his warmth surrounding you, his arms tight around your waist. There's so much you want to say, and so many things you want to tell him, but none of it feels right. Not after what's happened, and the choices the two of you have made. And, for a moment, you just let yourself be, his heartbeat steady against your cheek, the rise and fall of his chest calming.

"I love you, you know that, right?" you say quietly as you pull away.

He chuckles and brushes a stray hair from your forehead. "Yes, I do."

"Good." You step back and turn toward your door, looking over your shoulder at him. "Now, go. Get some sleep."

"You too," he says, his lips quirking. You can't help but return his smile, and he turns, heading for his room. He glances over his shoulder, and he winks. "Good night, darling."

"Good night," you call out.

He vanishes around the corner, and you turn and open the door, stepping into your room. The door slides shut, and you're greeted by the empty, familiar, sight of your quarters. The walls are bare, the windows are uncovered, and the floors are cold. It's not a welcoming space, and it never has been, but tonight, the silence feels particularly loud. You're used to being alone, but, right now, the loneliness is almost overwhelming.

You're not sure why.

Or, perhaps, you don't want to admit why.

Either way, the ache in your chest is still there, the emptiness still lingers, and you know it's not just from the alcohol. You try to ignore the feeling, and instead you settle on the floor to meditate, focusing on the Force and letting the energy flow through you. 

It doesn't work, and you know it won't. But, you have to try. The alternative is too much to bear. You sit for a few hours, your eyes closed, and your hands resting on your knees, until, eventually, sleep pulls you under.

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[ladythornofrivia]

Kingdom of Fire & Blood || (Part Five)—Revised

🐉 MASTERLIST 🐉

Next Chapter

summary: aemond spying on the reader as she meets the council. council meeting gone wrong.

pair: aemond x reader

warnings & disclaimer: smut, violence, p in v sex, sexual content, aemond being arrogant, modern reader doesn’t know how the world of GOT works but is a Aemond stan, praise kink, breeding kink, spitting kink, voice kink, fluff, angst—family drama, oral sex, hate sex, stalking, jealousy, virginity loss, obsession, reader being sassy and aroused, sweet moments with reader and aemond. Reader is a huge GOT & HOTD fan. Pro-Green, Reader is a green supporter. Aemond becomes king instead of Aegon. (P.S. Alys who? I only know Aemond x Reader)

Chapter Five: The Council

~Aemond's POV~

Hidden in the secret pathways, he was sure he was slowly losing his breath. Not because the profoundness of the Blacks and Greens have attended, or the conversation he has heard in countless times. Or the fact when Aegon volunteered himself to watch the council within to pass of as entertainment. Alicent insisted on her sons to stay put. As always, they behave. Especially the new encounter in King’s Landing.

As much as Aemond hated to admit, he couldn't abide anymore to what's in store for the council, especially to a certain name he expected to hear.

“I still don’t know what you find so special about this girl,” Aegon commented, peeping through the secret view from the secret tunnel.

Swallowing, Aemond paid him no mind as the meeting was about to commence.

“I thought you prefer to a company of older women,” Aegon added.

On his thirteenth nameday, Aegon has taken the young Aemond to Streets of Silk. His innocence is ruined by the time he returned back to the Red Keep.

“Quiet,” Aemond said, not facing his older and drunken brother, now that Aegon carried wine in a pouch. “We don’t want mother to scold us again, do we?”

“Daemon is here,” Aegon whispered in his ear with dismay.

With certain guests like Daemon came for one thing. To question.

“But our father isn’t present,” Aemond said. "Even if he is, I doubt he’ll live to see the forging tale before us.”

“Who cares about him? He’s in his bed, slowly dying away even when he’s already a rotten corpse.”

Aemond ignored him.

“This might be a chance for us to survive from the fate of our house,” Aemond whispered, but Aegon is unsure and oblivious to what Aemond meant.

The moment the doors droned a creaking sound, the council ceased their talk and focused on the main objective they have been longing to grasp.

You, appearing as miserable and beaten, limped legs dragged.

It was quite clear either Otto—or Daemon—ordered the guards to escort you.

Aemond held his breath. He has seen countless women in the Street of Silk, but has never seen like a strange aura exuding, something he can’t quite put. He has seen many women in tourneys and gatherings and ceremonies, he has seen them in training yards for a good long look of his training, and gardens and lavish gatherings and lessons with the septa—all are stiffened with false courtesies and sweet smiles. But the air of your presence filled him with conundrum, raw and ethereally indescribable he couldn’t pinpoint to how he reckoned you, regardless of exchanging words once.

His eye laid watching the soft sways on your locks and cinch of your waist clung tight nightwear. The suppleness on your skin somewhat bruised. Other than that, you’re in your broken state; bandaged and eyes averting to look below.

Watching you tossed your hair over after the guards pinned you down, the twinge in his chest lightened. As soon as he learns your name, he’ll endow you. But quickly faded when he spotted to how their mistreatment.

"What in Gods’ name happened to her?" Aemond muttered.

Aegon discerned Aemond’s eager impatience.

“Patience, Aemond,” Aegon said, eyes twinkled at your quiet presence. “You wouldn’t want your special lady to be feared by you if you show yourself again.”

Aemond leaned in back to mutter Aegon’s ear. “Perhaps it’s you who’s impatient.”

Only Aemond could watch afar, despite the distance is at its proximity between the secret walls. Soon, he abided, await for your lowering gaze to come alight and basked in glow.

~Your POV~

The guards released you after a sudden drag they put you from your deep sleep. Men in the council weren’t the only thing to watch out for; at the corner of your eyes, the guards were there, Daemon is also present in the council.

“At last,” Otto stated in quiet merry. “I was afraid you might not show.”

Still drowning under the influence of Milk of the Poppy, you said nothing but you head bobbed in sleepiness; shaking on the inside; your hands clamped in cold sweat, rubbing your palms altogether, gawking your lulled eye down on the ground.

You said nothing; eyes narrowed in drowsy exhaustion.

“We’d like to ask you a few questions regarding to your first arrival at the Red Keep,” Otto informed, wearing the sincerity of his smile. Daemon, on the other hand, observed you by the pillar; his posture was exteriorly calming in a calculating way. You’d think meeting with the cast is a good for setting up pranks, but turns out the meeting is set for an intimidation. In other words, King Viserys is nowhere to be seen.

“You’re well aware to why you’re summoned in the council,” Otto asked.

Without looking, you felt the eyes of the council members and the guards sent their pierced gazes at you before you responded, “I know.”

“The King wishes to acquire of your existence,” Otto resumed. "But he's ill, as of late. Would you kindly introduce yourself to the court of the small council?” he demanded.

The sky outside the Red Keep thundered.

Over your veiled face and bandage from your tousled hair, Steady, you eyed on each member, not knowing on who to look; you didn’t want to make a miscalculation that could lead your early demise.

Beside you, Alicent’s hues sparked with encourage; a tiny curved quirked upward upon her lips.

Behind the council walls, there was none other than green shadows of her sons. Although while Aegon peered with amusement as Aemond with intrigued notion. Darting your eyes at Aemond, the sensation in your body faltered with alerting thrill and admiration. Without realizing, corner of your melancholic lips twitched, one dimple dented, but reformed back to a scowl, bandaged hands, your back slouched as your hands folded and rubbed altogether.

Drowsy, your head threw back in lazy gesture, released a heavy sigh, your vision blurred.

Otto inclined back in his seat with his hands folded, attentive. “Might I acquire ask to where are you from?”

Your heart thumped.

“Based on your accent, you neither sound like one of us as Westerosi. Are you from Essos?”

Subtly, you shaken your head.

“Great Moraq? Leng? Quarth? Yiti?”

You licked your parched lips, eye frantic below your lap. “Where the fuck is my cigarette,” you hissed.

Startled, the council is confused with your question.

"I beg your pardon?" Otto spoke, stunned.

“I'm not going to give the answer you wanted unless I have my belongings,” you answered, your quiet voice deepened with loudness, lounging back against the chair frame as your arms resting on the armrest, you head tilted back against the frame. This time, your eyes pierced directly, knowing this information you’ll provide won’t take overnight.

Otto unyielding eyes shot back. “Whatever it is, you can retrieve your possessions back after you answer, my lady.”

You scoffed.

Meanwhile Alicent whispered—inquired Criston where your belongings are.

After a couple minutes passing, the knight returned with none other than your clutched purse.

Sweeping your hair back, huffing as you gave the council members the glare.

The council exchanged concerns.

Otto conceded. “I’d like to say my gratitude on saving my granddaughter. However, I would like to know how you got here into Westeros. More so in King’s Landing.”

You paused and adjusted yourself in the seat again, putting your folded hands on your lap. “Look, I don’t know how the fuck I got here. I went to a party, got drunk and then slept on my bed in my apartment. The next thing I knew that I was cold and wet, and someone pulled me over back to the shore from drowning at Blackwater Bay; I was unconscious for two days until the third day and then I was being chased by three men in armor.”

“Do you remember what house they’re from?”

You leaned your back and pondered. From what it appears, it’s all too hazy until it struck. “No. But this one knight saved me from them—Ser Remon Blackwood.”

“Must’ve been the Brackens chasing after her,” Daemon concluded. “Damn Brackens and Blackwoods never cease to shed grudge and the indulgence of their pettiness.” Daemon darted his unpredictable glare at you. “What I want to know is how in the Seven Hells did you survive? Or was it Ser Criston who murdered them in Kingswood?”

Some council members collectively gasp in silence, rather in a quiet outrage, anticipating.

Gritting your teeth, you explained, “For the record, I only saw Ser Criston when I woke up, when he took me to King’s Landing. Before Ser Criston found me, those three men were hunting me, saying that I should be bred with their children, called me a whore—one said he wanted to eat my flesh after done raping me and then other said whoever makes me scream the loudest wins and give birth,” you answered. “In return, I stabbed them in the knees, cut their cock off, then disfigured one man’s face with the knife. Is that good enough for you or should I spell it out for you?”

Each and every one of their faces blanched.

“Why aim for the knees?”

Your long locks shielded your good eye. “They exposed their weak spot.” The corners of your lips twitched.

“Is it true you found her in the forest, Ser Criston?” Otto asked.

Criston’s shoulders shrugged. “It’s true. She was lying on the ground when we reached to the exit, all smothered in bloodshed.”

The silence collectively ensued, replacing with coherent whispers.

“Knights often had armor on their knees, even their cocks.”

“I’m certain she’s a wildling.”

“For Gods’s sake, Wildlings would never set their foot here, not even King’s Landing!” Daemon is annoyed by the other council’s statement.

“You’ve never been into the Wall,” one council member said.

Daemon folded his arms. “No, but I heard stories of their customs—filthy animals they are as they come.”

“You mentioned Ser Remon Blackwood,” Otto said, facing you. “He managed to pull you back out on the shores from Blackwater Bay.”

Your voice lowered. “He did.”

“From what I’ve gathered, when Alicent and Rhaenyra saw you in the Maester’s room, your peculiar clothes and your hair are covered in dark sand, you were at Dragonstone while unconscious at the time?”

Everyone was looking at you intently.

“I was.”

“On that night, there was an occurrence that awoken the dragons—the whole Westeros. Nobles and common folk often talk for the past few weeks, regarding to the incident. The green star befell from the skies and plunged into waters of the Blackwater Bay—in Westeros. Have you heard of it?”

Confused, you didn’t answer.

“Daemon was there, that’s when he last met Ser Remon Blackwood—Ser Criston saw to it.” Otto then exchanged glances with Alicent. “We were…I hate to be the bearer of news or gaining the notions of accusing. But…we believed that you’re the green star that fell from the sky.”

At the very least, nothing surprises you anymore. You were drunk at someone’s birthday party, then off to sleep in your apartment, but off to sleep and find yourself awake in the middle of the forest, in Westeros, is utterly mind blowing, but soon accepted the fate that’s been thrust onto you until the reminder.

You scoffed, your hand gestured in. “Wait just a damn fucking minute,” you interfered. “Whatever you’re thinking, you—”

“So you’re the one who causes my Caraxes to nearly bitten my hand off in half. My dragon couldn’t sleep well for the last few days,” Daemon fumed as he went closer to you. Daemon clutched the side of your neck, fingertips pressured. But you were unfazed.

“Fuck off,” your voice raised, eyes hardened, shoving Daemon away, but he wouldn’t budge, his clutch tightened on you.

“Daemon, spare her—she did no such treason; she protected and defended your life with hers on the bridge and the life of children,” Otto said, but you detected his sarcasm. Otto never cared for the Blacks.

Behind you, you felt a heavy presence towering over you. But no one was there, as if someone’s watching over you.

Daemon studied your features. “I find it hard to believe that a young lady like you who could fend off your opponents with a blindfold. Tell me, how did you manage to strike under such vulnerable condition,” His fingertips caressed you on your cheekbone, leading down on the side of your throat, thumbing across the smooth flesh.

Your hand clutched his, nails deepened.

“None of your goddamn business,” you answered, cold expression in your good eye unwaver, shoving his touch back in lenient motion; your body leaned back. “A little “thank you” for saving your royal, arrogant ass would’ve been nice.”

Daemon clicked his tongue and stepped back, giving you the broken knife you once held underneath the folded handkerchief. “You attacked the men in armor with this. You stole this Ser Remon Blackwood, didn’t you? The sigil marked on his dagger,” he seethed.

Quietude engulfed the air.

“Think what you like, princeling. But Ser Remon Blackwood gave that to me for protection. I promised him that I’ll give the knife back the next time I see him…”

Daemon shaken his head. “His body has been found, buried. His family were in mourning. Seeing them would consider to be the worst idea.”

Hearing Remon Blackwood’s death, you carried no hope or peace of mind. Instead, you sulked, but insisted on not showing the upsetting factor invaded in you. When you veered Daemon’s eyes, he could offer nothing but sympathy, but molded to indifference. Somehow, it left you clouded in anger.

“This is certainly a waste for our time,” one maester said. “We’ll never get information out of her!”

“Filthy as her mouth, spiteful as a venomous beast.”

“Surely she’s a born Wilding.”

While the council spoke over, nose scrunching, you assumed, almost sinisterly ill from the flips and coils in your belly, watching the young knight carrying on what it seems to appear—your clutched purse.

Your eye fixed on the object, glaring at the young knight, who was taking his sweet time to chat another guard—a report, you assumed.

At your attentive gaze, Alicent ordered the young knight in order for you to retrieve your belongings—all which are intact due to the quality of your clutched bag.

The young knight handled your possession, but as he called you, you stare into space, contemplating. The world you admire was starting to piss you off. You understood that you’re the outsider. With your unhealed wounds, what can you do? In a world of Westeros, men and women died often.

You stared into space so much that you didn’t sense others watching you. All you wanted was a peaceful sleep, but the guards are strong, with your weakened health, you fought them off, but they got the upper hand.

But each time their discussion extended, you rarely responded; blanked expression, white noise ringing louder, and concentration in your head afloat elsewhere.

Until—

You gripped the young knight’s hand, without looking back over your shoulder and twisted his fingers; he yelped, his body collapsed as you twisted his hand and arm farther with your good hand, with your position changed—then with both hands, you shifted—slammed his weight against the marbled table, his arms twisted on the back, leaving everyone standing in shock. The council collectively had their breaths inhaled, paled at the sudden shift within you.

“I said, don’t touch me,” you reminded him, voice darkened.

Criston tried to hauled you, but you resisted.

“He has your possessions,” Alicent begged, motherly as she sounded, while the guards prowled at your direction to arrest you.

At once, you released the young knight and reclined back to your seat. From there, you opened your purse after retrieving it, inspecting all your items are intact. He hissed, appeasing the pain on his hand. The council members slowly arrived back into their seats.

“Seems you’re no ordinary maiden,” Otto said.

You ignored him. “I haven’t had a chance to get a fucking break. I think you got the answers by now that I’m not from here. I’m neither a prostitute nor a foreign bitch or a Wildling from those places you mentioned, one that you people are accusing me of.”

Nobody moved.

“I don’t think you understand the occurrence, my lady,” Jason Lannister barged in with soft voice. “In fact, you have no clue to why you’re graciously summoned.”

“I didn’t know being “graciously” summoned in the meeting by guards dragging me out of the blue.”

“You don’t know what it’s at stake. You have woken the whole seven kingdoms in Westeros! And the dragons barely slept—flying about the skies and roared as if they’re dying. I suggest you start acting like a noble maiden instead of being a foolish common whore in Street of Silk,” Jason Lannister suggested.

In paused silence, everyone was waiting for your answer.

Opening your clutched bag, you took out your dragon lighter and the pack of cigarettes; lighting up the cigarette and blew a smoke as you turned away.

The council watched in astonishment as you held a foreign object in your hand.

“Where I come from won’t matter, and as far as I’m concerned I would worry about something else more important, if I were you.” Your eyes narrowed it almost shadowed.

“Father, she’s in no better shape. It would be best if we leave her for a proper recovery to regain answers,” Alicent said, giving you sympathy. “Dragging her from her bedside while under the Milk of the Poppy won’t do much good.”

You looked at her with a smile in gratitude.

Shutting his eyes, Otto rubbed the bridge of nose. “We will continue this tomorrow. King Viserys would like to witness the accountability of the young woman.”

The council absconded the meeting, as you watched them up and left, you did the same, leaving to your quarters, but the Cargyll twins followed and escorted back.

~Aemond’s POV~

Under a stricken of nightly hour in King’s Landing, after a long watch in the secret pathway, Aemond’s internal aggravation simmered and worsened as time struck pass. Hands flexed and fingernail scratched against the palm, recalling on you exiting the council, despite the Cargyll brothers kindly escorted you back to a spare room that Aemond assigned since your first arrival. He could never undo the memory of you.

Soon, Aemond learned that Daemon ordered them to a quick way “summon” you. Ser Criston and Aemond abducted the men in armor who mistreated you, yanking the sleeping guards buried deep the underground of Red Keep, only for their tongues to be cut and their bones to be bloody and fractured.

He got up and under the lavish wooden box, it contained in miscellaneous items. But underneath, he had the possession of your clothes—all washed and dried. No blood stains or mud was to be seen.

Once he gathered the materials, Aemond lounged back on his velvet chair near at the great hearth, not averting from the bright fire, clenching your attire in his arms, and lifted to his nose; a fainted scent of vanilla and strawberry wafted, aroused his cock.

His heart aflame, determined and tribulation all at once. He must have you. He must claim you as his only lover. He must claim you and your smile alone. His white flower, his hope, his wandering light. He must succeed.

No matter what.

Taglist: @galactict3a @daonenonlysandman @toodlesxcuddles @hufflepuff1700 @me753 @fredskum @omgsuperstarg @xcharlottemikaelsonx @paninisstuff @danika1994 @angeljcca @taintedlovesworld @kukulyarva @darylandbethfanforever9 @blackswxnn @namelesslosers @heavenly1927 @snh96 @colored-tr-panels @valeskafics

@ aemondswifffeeeyyy - all rights reserved.

[anakinskywalkerog]

My Very Soul (Chapter 33)

Anakin Skywalker x Jedi!Reader

Link to Chapter 32

Warnings: grief!! depression!!! tread lightly!! things will get better, our girl will heal, but please engage with this only if you feel good/healthy yourself! also, drama/angst, but that's what you get from me

Summary: Anakin comforts you after the death of your Master; you wrestle with some difficult truths, and agree to train with someone new

Word Count: 2.7k

It was heavy. There was no other way to explain it. Your grief was a heavy pillow, suffocating you as you lay in your bed. You felt like the sheets might swallow whole you under the weight. The feel of Anakin's arms around you faded in the face of the soft, quiet, heavy feeling pressing on you. It was like being underwater. It was like trying to fight wind stronger than a hurricane. It pushed you down, and you felt like you had no strength to fight against it.

You'd awoken after Felucia in the Temple's medical chamber, Anakin at your side. You had no memory of anything that had happened after Yuma had been killed, and you didn't understand why Anakin looked so full of relief, why he had tears in his eyes at the sight of you. Obi-Wan had simply explained that you had lost consciousness, similar to the way you had when encountering Dooku's presence. Something in Anakin's face told you that it wasn't quite that simple.

Still, you couldn't find it in yourself to care, much, about what had happened after your Master had been taken from you. You couldn't find it in yourself to care about anything at all, other than the arms that remained around you, other than having Anakin by your side. You found that there were times when even that desire started to fade; when you felt the heaviness pressing in and lost any feeling at all.

"Y/N," Anakin whispered, shaking your arm a little, reaching over to run his fingers gently through your thick hair, pushing it away from your face. Every so often he would say something like this, something soft and gentle, like he were trying to make sure you could still hear him.

"I'm here," you replied, not looking at him, but reaching out and gripping his sleeve. Anakin brushed away the tears that fell softly and steadily out of your eyes and onto the sheets of the big bed in your Jedi apartment, situated in the Knight's Billet in the Temple. This is where you had remained for days, barely moving, barely sleeping or eating, struggling to fight the weight in order to keep breathing.

After you had left the medical chambers, you had recounted to the Council how Vyra had lured you into that cave, how she had manipulated the severity of the battle on Felucia and used the Sith dwelling to call to you in order to trap you and 'torture' you. You had told them what she had said of her reason for doing so, her grudge that she had held since you had been assigned your mission on Serenno. You had explained what she had recounted about Dooku and his mysterious "Master"; you'd noticed that Yoda and Windu had shared a look at that information. You couldn't bring yourself to care, at the moment, what that meant. You had struggled for breath, standing in the center of that circle of Jedi atop the tall tower, as you had recounted the last moments of Yuma's life: how she had been in the throes of a horrible vision, caused by the poison that made her live through her worst fears. You could barely get the words out when you described Vyra killing your Master, and taking her lightsaber. Obi-Wan had stood up to walk you out, his hand on your back the whole way back to your apartment, his face grim. You hadn't emerged since.

"Y/N," Anakin said again, stroking your face, your arm. "You need to eat something." You shook your head. The thought of moving at all, let alone eating, drinking, sounded too hard. You felt the heaviness pressing in on you.

"I love you," Anakin said again, and the agony in his presence was like a spark, a stabbing pain that brought you out of the heavy feeling, if only for a moment. Your eyes filled, again, with tears.

"I know," you whispered, looking into his eyes.

"I'll be here with you," Anakin said, reaching forward to kiss your eyelids, brushing the tears away with the gentle press of his lips. "I won't let them make me leave."

"You can't stay forever, Ani," you sighed, curling into him, wishing your words weren't true.

"I won't—"

Anakin cut off his words, feeling the same disturbance in the Force that made your senses heighten. Someone was coming.

A soft knock sounded on the door of the apartment. You and Anakin both looked at each other, sensing the presence that stood outside.

"Maybe he'll leave," you breathed into Anakin's ear, not moving. Anakin remained still, listening. You waited, holding your breath.

"Y/N," you heard, Obi-Wan's soft voice calling through the door as he knocked again. If he came into the apartment, it would only take a few steps past the kitchen for him to see through the open bedroom door, where he would find you and Anakin in bed together—

"What do we do?" you whispered, panicked, your eyes widening. Numb with grief you may be; but if you and Anakin were caught, it could risk your position in the Order. Anakin's eyes darted around, and landed on the tiny wardrobe built into the wall. Jedi Knights were granted little storage space, as they were not to keep possessions of their own.

"Anakin, he'll sense you!" you whispered frantically, but Anakin was already up and running in his boxers to the wardrobe. He sucked in his gut and used the force to close the wardrobe's doors as you heard Obi-Wan's voice sound again from outside the door.

"Y/N, I'm coming in," Obi-Wan said, his voice gentle and suppliant. You pulled yourself up in your bed, fighting against the heaviness in your limbs as you used the Force to summon your robe, hastily throwing it on over your nightgown as the door to your apartment opened and Obi-Wan stepped inside.

"I'm sorry to disturb you," Obi-Wan said as he walked forward to stand in the open door of your bedroom. You knew you probably looked like Moraband; you hadn't visited the refresher in days, and your hair was a tangled mess on your head. You felt Obi-Wan's thoughts linger on the dark circles under your eyes.

"That's all right, Master," you replied, your voice hoarse. Obi-Wan walked forward and pulled the chair near the window around so that it was facing you. You gulped as he turned, looking back to you as if to ask, may I ? You nodded, gesturing that he should sit. Obi-Wan had never been inside your apartment before—his presence startled you enough that you felt the heavy numbness backing away from you.

"I came to bring you this," Obi-Wan said, leaning forward in the chair and pulling something from the pocket of his robes. As he reached out to hand it to you, you sighed in amazement.

"How...?" you asked, leaning forward to take your lightsaber from him and gripping it. You felt each familiar divot of the hilt like you had found an old friend lost to time; you felt the ghosts of tears prickle behind your eyes, and you willed them away.

"I recovered it for you, on Felucia," Obi-Wan responded quietly. "When you were found, in that cave." His tone was careful, quiet, and solemn. "I wanted to return it to you before, but...it seemed a difficult enough moment." You thought back to facing the Council, to the whirlwind of emotions you'd faced upon waking up here, in the Temple, without your Master, for the first time in your life.

"Thank you," you managed to get out, looking back up at him and keeping your tears at bay. He simply nodded. You looked around, feeling awkward, working to keep your gaze anywhere but on the wardrobe behind Obi-Wan's back.

"I also..." Obi-Wan started, and you met his gaze, his face lit by the rays of sun streaming in through the partially closed blinds. "I am also here because I wanted to make a proposition to you."

You squinted, gripping your robe around yourself, inclining your head to indicate that he should continue.

"You are, of course, under no obligation to do so..." Obi-Wan started, rubbing his hands over his mustache and through his beard. "But...I know how important it was to Yuma that you work on your ability, to block out the presences of the Sith." At these words, your heart dropped. The weight came back in full force, pushing you down. It was an effort to keep yourself seated, to not lay back into the sheets and give in to the heaviness that pressed into you. You swallowed, nodding. "I would like to continue your training, in that regard," Obi-Wan said, watching you intently, his voice soft. "Not to pick up where Yuma left off, necessarily. But to work to make sure you are fully in control of your abilities...so that, when the time comes that you must protect yourself, you are as prepared as you can be. I would like to do everything in my power to help you."

You struggled to breathe evenly, working the air in and out of your lungs. You knew that Obi-Wan meant well—that he was trying to show care for you, and for Yuma, by offering to help. And you knew you needed the help, knew now that your susceptibility to the dark side of the Force was a liability. So you couldn't help but hear the unspoken truth behind Obi-Wan's words—that it was your fault, what had happened on Felucia. That if you had made more progress in your lessons with Yuma, she would still...

Be here, you finished in your head, your eyes welling up against your will. You didn't need Obi-Wan to tell you. You knew the truth. You knew who was responsible for Yuma's death.

"Y/N," Obi-Wan started, leaning forward like he wanted to do something to comfort you, but you shook your head, letting the tears fall.

"I'll do it," you said, pushing against the heaviness. "I'll train with you." It was all you could manage. Obi-Wan paused, as if debating, then leaned back in his chair, putting his hand down.

"Good," Obi-Wan replied, his voice contemplative. "I'd like to start right away, given that the war has made it so my time at the Temple is limited. Tomorrow?" You nodded, looking away from him, your face flushed at your embarrassment. You'd never cried in front of Obi-Wan, and you didn't like it—you didn't want to feel weak around him, the Jedi who was always so very much in control. Until recently, you'd thought of yourself and Obi-Wan as similar souls, similar warriors who kept their emotions in check. You now realized that you were useless in more ways than one, that people like Obi-Wan would always surpass you. You wanted to go back to sleep.

"The last thing..." Obi-Wan continued, his voice unnervingly gentle. "I wanted to tell you," he said, leaning forward in his chair, waiting until you looked up to meet his gaze, "that you aren't alone. Though I know that no one and nothing could ever replace what Yuma was to you—to all of us—I want you to know that you still have family, here. That you still have a mentor that cares for you deeply." You blinked, the brazen affection in this statement disarming you.

 "And that if you ever need to discuss anything," Obi-Wan continued, "anything, even things that you wouldn't bring to others in the Order, you can come to me. Whenever you need." You could have sworn Obi-Wan glanced infinitesimally toward the wardrobe, but it was so fast, you must have been imagining it.

"Thank you, Obi-Wan," you said, your voice small, your gratitude sincere. You felt so much affection and adoration for the Jedi Master sitting in front of you. You wished only that his faith in you wasn't so displaced. You felt your body shaking, the effort of pushing off the weight beginning to wear on you.

"That's all," Obi-Wan said, smiling at you as he stood, walking toward the door. "I'll expect you in the meditation chambers tomorrow." You nodded, feeling drained. "Don't—don't be unkind to yourself," Obi-Wan added, pausing in the bedroom doorway to turn back to you. "All of this is hard enough as it is." You nodded again, wondering how he could sense what you were thinking so accurately. Obi-Wan turned away, striding for the door to the apartment.

You listened as the front door slid shut, waiting, your heart beating. He didn't return. You sank back into your pillows, pulling the robe around you in a cocoon as you heard the wardrobe door slide open.

Anakin didn't say anything as he lay down next to you, pulling your whole body and cradling it in his arms, burying his face in your hair.

"Training might be a good thing," Anakin whispered, in a tone like he was trying to sound optimistic. You pulled yourself closer to him, your body quivering as if you were cold. You felt the tears at the edge of your eyes again, felt the quivers turn into quiet sobs.

"I'm here," Anakin said, kissing your head and stroking your back. "I'm here." What else could he say? Everything certainly wasn't okay. You tried in vain to calm the sobs, but they continued. Whenever you fought the numbness enough to stave it off, this was what happened. It was, in some ways, worse to feel.

"I should have been there," Anakin said vengefully, his voice shaky, "I shouldn't have left you." You inhaled, quickly, another sob breaking out of you.

"Are you saying—are you saying that you could have prevented it?" You pulled back in Anakin's arms, looking him in the face, your eyes wide. "That it's my fault, that she's...that she's...?" you felt your body continue to shake. Unfamiliar anger pulsed through you, the bitter anger that was only self-directed. You needed somewhere to put it. Nothing made sense, anymore. Your brain turned to fire.

"No, of course—no, Y/N, of course that's not—" Anakin started, alarmed, gripping your arms as you pulled farther away from him.

"You don’t have to say that, because I already know!" you replied, shouting now, as you pulled yourself out of the bed, standing before him. Anakin was on his feet immediately, his arms outstretched for you, but you backed away. "I know what happened is my fault entirely!! If I hadn’t—choked—if I had just listened—"

"Y/N, no, no, that's not it, no, listen to me, that's not..."

"You heard Obi-Wan," you continued, sobbing again. "And you said it yourself. Yuma was right. I was a liability, and because of me, my Master is dead."

"Y/N!" Anakin was shouting now, reaching out for you again, but you pushed him away, backing into the corner of your bedroom and sinking to the floor.

"Just leave," you choked, closing your eyes, feeling the world around you start to sway. "Just go." The world was starting to fade.

"Y/N," Anakin said gently, moving toward you slowly, his arms outstretched like he was approaching a loose rancor. "Y/N, it isn't your fault. None of it was your fault. I didn't think that for one second, and neither does Obi-Wan."

"Just leave," you repeated, softly, your sobs coming freely now. You didn't deserve to be comforted. You wanted to descend into oblivion. You were starting to lose the feeling in your legs, in your arms. You looked around, but saw that your vision was blurring over.

"I can't do that," Anakin murmured softly, and you felt his hands prying at your arms. You hadn't realized you'd been gripping your knees so tightly. You started to breathe quickly. "Look at me, Y/N," Anakin whispered, and you looked around, frantic now, your eyes clouded, unable to see. "Come back to me," Anakin breathed into your ear, and you blinked, his face swimming into view.

"I can't ever leave you," Anakin said, pulling you into his arms right there on the floor. You wanted to reply. You wanted to tell him that you couldn't ever leave him, either. You wanted to promise that the two of you would be together forever. But the world had changed, when Yuma had been taken from you. Or, you had changed. You now knew that everyone, no matter how much you loved them, would someday vanish. You didn't understand it—how one day, someone could be so very real, and the next, they could be gone. And Anakin would vanish, someday, too. You leaned into him, feeling how very real and alive he felt, with his arms around you. You felt the heaviness descend as you wept.

************************************************************************

NEW CHAPTER UP NOW!!!!!

just imagine this Obi-Wan comforting you after reading this angst 😂🤓

divider credit to @racingairplanes

taglist pt 1: @iyoogi @cluelessgurl @layazul @annadastra @graciexmarvel @galaxiasy @organasith @indigoblues1207 @outoftheregular @katsukiswrld @prettyboyrryy @jellydodger @wildflower57 @padmeamidalaslover @em-asian @heavenseraph @iloveinej @leapofblank @sahverah @elsyyie @usuallyunlikelyfox @jadeonce @papadragun @dopejellyfishfury @stxrrielle @lilianashomaresparza @prettylittlecarstairs @deadunicorn159 @atoelicker @arelisskywalker @maythefloorbewithyouanakin @your-local-crzy-lady @dontmindme262 @xenochuguardian @cassiopeiashift @allihavenegativethoughts @hamiltonwc @1-800-nostalgiaaa @heyitsaloy @haydenchristensenluvbot @sunflwrsunnieshine @muthafuckingstargirl @window-to-nothing @shadowhuntyi @jedi-archives @inmourningforanakin @vivsmcdo @betrund @ahqkas @aquaamethyst96 @escapepoet @randomstuff2040 @kenjikishimotosupremecy @nycweb-slinger @anxlaufeyson @magic-magnoliaa @theezlife @unipugrose22-blog @anhsoka @lucyysthings @hopefulpursepeanutdeputy @captainson-of-coul @zelzablues @chrisevansslutttt2

[scribble-dribble-writes]

OMGGGGG part 4 of protective Crosshair please!!!! I feel like now, these two HAVE to make it official 😭😭 how do you think a secret relationship with him will go 👀👀👀

Crosshair Bodyguard Pt 5

<<< Part 4 Part 5>>>

Crosshair x female reader

The feelings are ramping up to a Bridgerton scales everyone

———

You held being a Jedi near and dear to your heart but this profession had taken over your life so much so that it had now started to feel like gilded cage. You were innately compassionate and loving but the Jedi council had set out rules for everything. Everything had begun to have a need for politics that more drama meant you only grew tired of it.

It was relieving to put away your robes and slip into your night dress.

Freeing to have the window open to let the breeze in as the stars in the midnight sky glistened over the planet.

You could finally rest and quell this feeling in your heart, the aching throb of your heart in the way Crosshair had dismissed you.

After all the time you had spent with him, you had grown fond of his company, of the friendship you had cultivated only for it to now be ruined.

Maybe it was for the best, because he haunted you in your dreams, you wanted to lift away his helmet to see the face he had kept concealed.

To pull away his armour and nurture his vulnerability, to hear his soft whispers of his passions and wishes as you traced your fingers down his battle worn skin.

You stopped yourself, it could never be, he would much rather wish to leave than spend another second in your presence, your fingers touched the bandage he had secure over your arm.

Why did he gently wrap up your wound? Why did he care for you? You wanted to return home. It had been tiring of fighting the war and keeping the peace when no one was there to tend to you.

You could hardly sleep as is, your mind turned into a horror scape as you slept, the trauma of the war etched into your soul. There was no solace.

So as you laid there, watching the quiet shine of the stars, you heard the soft thump of footsteps out your door. A thin shadow paced back and forth before it stilled and then a single knock was heard.

You waited, who would dare approach a General’s quarters at the dead of night?, you waited for another knock of urgency or a pounding on the wooden door but nothing followed.

The shadow stayed still and it made you curious.

You walked up to your door and composed yourself as you threw a shawl around your exposed shoulders to turn the knob open slowly.

And there he stood, his armour still intact but something about him looked dishevelled, he pushed away from the wall he was leaning on urgently the moment he caught sight of you

Words, stars, he was searching for words, your hair let down, your night gown flowing down your body and your tan skin looking ethereal in this faint light, he had forgotten what he had come here to say.

His mind racing, he couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t rest, he was in torment, he was sick from being away from you, was that curable.

There was no time for propriety, he walked towards you.

“Can I come in?”, Crosshair asked but it sounded like he was pleading. This was not allowed but the guards were changing and something in you made your body move to the side giving him the sliver of space to sneak in and when you closed the door. There was no going back now. He was in here.

“I hope this sudden appearance has an explanation.”, you wrapped your shawl tighter around yourself, hoping in would contain your rapid heart beat as you watched him pace like a jungle cat.

“I am sick.”, he stopped instantly to turn to you.

“Sick. Sick from what?”, you were confused.

He let out a frustrated sigh, his hands clenched tight as he turned to pace around again, turning away from looking at you and it was enough to drive you mad.

“Is that all you came here to tell me. At this hour?”, you asked, your tone now edging towards being furious.

“Yes.”, he stated and he stopped to look at you again, it was the final straw.

“ You dismiss me in the morning, you brush past me in the corridors, you don’t answer my questions and you now turn up in the middle of the night to say you are sick. What are you sick of? I am sick of you. I cannot tolerate this any further. I ask you to leave.”, you had walked towards him a few steps when he reared his head back as though his senses were knocked back into him.

“No.”, he held his ground not moving away.

“ It was an order, Crosshair.”, you turn away. “Leave.”, you reiterated and his answer was the same.

“I can’t sleep, I can’t think, I have caught something that has no remedy.”, he explained and you turned to see him.

“Then go to the medic.”, you said softly as you walked past him to usher him out the door but he caught your arm instead. His fingers tracing the bandage from this morning.

“I don’t hate you.”, he said and you stilled.

“I’m afraid your answer is a bit too late.”, you pulled out of his touch as much as it hurt you, this mistreatment could not go on. He would have to learn to be better, you will not settle for this.

“Why do you punish me?”, he drawled as though his heart was hurt and you turned to him.

“You have no regard for our friendship, you treat me like a stranger - you elaborated

“I treat you like a stranger? You are the only woman I ever - he stopped himself

Part 6, we are getting there everyone, get ready haha @ladyanidala @crosshairscyarika @haybellewrites @bimboshaggy @ctfive

[sl-vega]

✧Other Friendly Faces✧

✧Kazuha✧-member of the literature club and in the same English class as Xingqiu. He specializes in poetry, mainly haikus and free verses.

✧Furina✧-President of the drama club and usually directs school plays. When she was younger, she was a successful child actress, though due to losing passion for the art, she stepped back and decided to focus on her director career.

✧Chiori✧-a member of the textile and drama club. Chiori is usually in charge of costume design for school productions. She runs a fairly successful mini-business where she sells her own designs, and she has many fashion companies begging for her to work for them, though she expresses no interest in working for someone else's brand.

✧Freminet✧-part of the swim team and Lyney and Lynette's younger brother. Like his sister, he's quiet and reserved, but a good listener. The two of you haven't talked much, but you do know about his love for the ocean and his soft spot for penguins.

✧Yun Jin✧-member of the music club and choir. She is also part of the Yun Han opera troupe, and has quickly risen to fame due to her starring role in the critically acclaimed musical: "The Divine Damsel of Devastation".

✧Eula✧-Captain of the dance team and student council vice-president. She's cold, harsh, and brutally honest (and holds a grudge for just about anything) and she doesn't have the best reputation due to that, but her talent and work ethic (almost) makes up for all that.

additional notes:

-in case you're wondering why some of these r so short, it's cuz these guys r just side characters, but i wanted to make some profiles for them

-i keep on forgetting to mention everyone's ages so here's a quick list:

-freminet and yun jin are sophmores (tenth grade, 15-16)

-furina, eula, and chiori are seniors (twelfth grade, 17-18)

-kazuha is a junior (eleventh grade, 16-17)

-furina supremacy fr fr

-everyone else in the main cast (y/n's group + xingqiu's friend group) are all juniours

-eula's twitter header found here

-i promise the plot will actually start after this :>

masterlist

<prev ll next>

Pairing: Xingqiu x FEM! Reader

Genre: fake dating, strangers to lovers, slow burn, fluff, angst (?), high school smau, modern smau

⋆｡°✩-Synopsis: Xingqiu just got entered into a special writing contest, the type that's invite only, the theme this year is love, the only problem is that he has zero romantic experience. but he really wants to prove himself as a writer. meanwhile, you just found out that your boyfriend cheated on you, and you need to show him that you're 100% over him, the only problem is that there's no way you can get an actual boyfriend that quickly. clearly, the solution to both of your issues is to fake date each other. it shouldn't be hard for an actor such as yourself, all you need to do is stick to the script.

(OPEN) Taglist: @freyao7, @thatoneswordgirl, @sn1perz, @latay7, @esmetrees, @nmriki0, @help-whatdoimakemyusername, @httpsrenren, @cupid-spams, @aixaingela, @kaitfae, @luvkvni, @danhenglovebot

[jarofstyles]

Reaper 8

Reaper is a dark story with dark and mature subject matter. 18+ NSFW

another lovely update for you, a little more background, a little more drama

Check out our Patreon for early access and exclusive writing!

warnings: reaper's explicit rage, kinda fluffy tbh, age gap talks, she calls him daddy once, smut

wc: 12.5k

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

The stillness of the morning was something Harry had grown to love. Growing up in London, he was used to the sound of sirens and raindrops against the window panes of his council flat. It was opposite to the serenity of his desert oasis. Sure the heat took some getting used to at first, but there was nowhere in the world he’d rather be.

When his mum shipped him off to his aunt’s house in the States at 13, he thought he’d never forgive her for taking away everything he knew. He was left to fend for himself out here, but it seems the fresh start was a blessing in disguise. A blessing that saved his miserable, twisted life.

Harry tried his best not to move as he shifted awake, not wanting to wake the sweet sleeping Bunny in his arms. She was snuggled so comfortably against his chest, arms, and legs clinging to him. The longer she slept the more time she spent away from this reality where she didn’t feel entirely safe. Harry wasn’t sure how he slept at night knowing that.

His lips brushed her forehead as she shifted in her sleep, a sweet little sigh leaving her swollen lips as she sunk further into his warmth. His throat tightened as he realized just how comfortable she was with him.

He still felt the guilt coursing through him. The fact he had made himself stay far, far away from her and pushed her away because he had been worried about caving and giving into this exact want? To the point where she probably didn’t feel comfortable enough to tell him someone was bothering her? It stung. His intentions in staying a respectable distance had been good but he had hurt her in the long run.

She had always been a favorite of his, long before the feelings had changed and things had shifted to a romantic gaze. It was more so on her side admittedly at first, but at age 19 when she had come back from her second year of college and he had seen her again, seen the woman she had become instead of sweet little Bunny who drew with chalk and showed him the cupcakes she decorated? It had spooked him entirely and he had taken major steps back. He knew it had hurt her back then and he had tried to keep the big brother type of thing but it was never like that for her.

For her, she saw him as a friend. Someone she looked up to and loved. And then it was more. He knew she had a little crush but never imagined it had actually flourished into the feelings she was expressing now.

He was being selfish now. Hogging her and indulging in the fantasy of laying in bed with her like she was his girlfriend. Pressing a few kisses to the crown of her head as her nude back was stroked by his hand, her peaceful expression reminding him exactly why he needed to be careful.

Each and every day he felt the anger in him brew. The anger towards himself and this stalker, this man who thought he had any claim in the woman he wanted to keep.

Whilst Harry was deep in thought Bunny had long since woken up, far too busy enjoying the tenderness he was offering her. She at first thought it was reserved for special occasions, during their most intimate moments. Though once it came, it never faded. He was tender even when it wasn’t necessary and to her, that meant far more.

Harry noticed a shift in her breathing but chose to keep quiet. He really shouldn’t indulge like this.

It was too late. It’s been too late.

“You trying to trick me, bun?” Harry rasped, breaking through the silence a few moments later. He placed another gentle kiss on her forehead, resting his cheek against the top of her head. “You must be tired, why don’t you sleep a little more?” His words were met immediately with a shake of her head.

“Don’t wanna,” Y/N mumbled against his chest, “Not when you’re awake.” Bunny knew how cheesy it sounded. She couldn’t help how she felt. Her body pushed forward against his, asking him to lay flat on his back so she could climb to lay on top of him.

“What do you wanna do today?” She asked, letting out a tiny yawn before resting her cheek back against his chest. “Cause I’m guessing I’m not going to class.”

His smile could be felt on her head as she melted into him. It wasn’t fair. It really wasn’t. Harry made her heart beat so hard and her stomach clench with the giddy swirls and he always seemed so… calm. Collected. Even when he was being sweet. She wished sometimes she had more control over her reactions with him because it was almost embarrassing.

“Mm.. as much as I want to keep you locked in here and in this bed?” He laid back and placed his arm back around her, fingers tangling with the ends of her hair. “I think I should let you go back. It isn’t… I don’t want him to think he’s won. That he’s backing you into a corner. Y’know?” He felt her nod against his chest.

“Yeah. I’m just getting spoiled spending the days with you.” Her tired voice made him want to pull her up for a kiss, but she was seemingly comfortable so he settled on a squeeze to her hip.

“Me too, baby. Me too.” The pet name had slipped out again, not in the context of sex, and it had her reeling. Hearing him call her such soft things had her feeling giddy.

“So I can go to classes? Are… you’re gonna be sitting out there?” She hoped he would. Harry made her feel the safest she had ever felt in her life.

“Yeah. And Kid is going to go inside with you. I talked to Viper about it and he’s a good one. A little younger than you, but he’s never pulled any bullshit.”

“Kid huh?” She giggled, “No, I shouldn’t judge based on the nickname. I’m sure he’s dangerous.” Y/N said more to herself than to Harry. She let her eyes fall closed again with a sigh, focusing in on Harry’s heartbeat to ground her. It had quickly become one of her favorite things to do.

“Okay, so that means I have to get up like…. Now.” She whined towards the end of the sentence, expressing clear distress on her face. She didn’t want to get up, but she’d do it. Y/N really did love going to her classes. Turning her head, she pressed a few kisses to his chest with a sweet hum. “Not yet though.”

Their morning kiss was far more important at the moment.

The two of them had felt undeniably closer after last night. Feelings on high, there were no hesitations anymore. At least not from Y/N. If she didn’t think it’d freak him out she would have told him she loved him by now.

“I’m going to shower. Do NOT,” She pressed a finger to his nose, “because I will give in and I will be late and please don’t make it hard for me.” Bunny pouted, pecking his lips a few more times before lifting herself out of bed.

“I was about to come with you, so you’re very lucky you gave me that warning.” He said with a snicker, sitting up and stretching as he watched her walk to the bathroom and shut the door.

God damn. He was in so much fucking trouble with her. He could see himself having this view every single morning, except following her inside the bathroom and holding her there for quite a while. Making her late.

One of the good things about the reputation of the club was that people didn’t fuck with its members or their women. Their lovers. Whatever. They had privileges and connections and weren’t afraid to get their hands dirty. Harry was happy that would extend to Y/N.

The black tee shirt was lazily thrown on his shirtless form, going to his dresser and putting his rings back on the allotted finger.

He hoped that she would be out of the shower soon. She really would be late if she didn’t hurry.

—————————

“Can you grab me a banana or something please!” Y/N called to him as she hurriedly tugged on some jeans. Although Harry did make a face at the thought of her not having a proper meal in her belly, he knew they didn’t have time for a real breakfast.

“I have a break at 12, I’ll come out and bring you some of whatever we make, okay? I don’t want you to be hungry waiting for me either.” It was a perk of culinary school, there was always something to eat if you were hungry. Of course, she wanted to make sure he had something in his system to keep him alert.

“I’m ready, just need to put on my shoes.” Bunny checked the clock, 8:32 am. Class started at 9. “Okay, we need to go!” She pulled her tote bag over her shoulder, opening the door only to be met with a sinister surprise.

A bag from the shop they were at yesterday.

“Harry,” Y/N's voice did nothing to hide her shock. She knew for a fact he had not put it there, hell, how could anyone have put it there?

Harry knew by her voice that something was wrong. His alarms hackled, grabbing his gun and unlocking the safety, shoving her away from the door and raising the gun.

There was no one there but a familiar shopping bag, the hair on the back of his neck standing up as he pushed Bunny back and kicked the bag. Just in case something was explosive, he covered the door frame with his body but there were no movement- only fabric spilling out of the bag.

He looked up at her with furrowed brows, deciding it was safe to grab the bag and bring it inside. There were no good moves at this point. No one ordered anything here and the sick feeling in his stomach had him aware of just who this was from.

“Bunny, back up.” He ordered, taking the bag and opening it up to see the pink fabric was… an older worn pair of panties? With a white piece of paper attached to it with scratchy writing.

“Did you forget my invite? I thought we were going to have fun together, but it seems you’re too busy being a whore for that scum. I can hear you right now. He’s not a good man, Y/N. I will get rid of him for you.”

For once, Harry felt blindsided.

How could this happen? He brought her here because it was secure and safe. He had made sure of that when he moved in. Someone was getting fired today if not murdered. He needed to control himself, he couldn’t act on these feelings now. His priority was Bunny.

“We are going now.” Harry spoke calmly, locking his apartment though at this point, he might as well leave it open. Ridiculous that he even had to do this, had to fix this, had to think on his feet so much when she should be safe here. He didn’t want to bark orders at her, but he was livid. Anything could set him off right now and he didn’t have time for the rage.

Harry kept her close to his body as they made their way to his bike. The bag was still in his hand, he didn’t think it was something Y/N should see. Not yet anyway. He folded the bag in half and shoved it into the compartment under his seat. Everything was moving so fast, he didn’t realize he was barely saying a word to Y/N.

“Here.” He mumbled, helping her with the helmet as usual. “Hold on tight, bun.”

————————

“I need everyone to open their ears and listen very fucking closely— this fucking roach got into my building!” Harry could not hold back his anger anymore, not in the comfort of the clubhouse.

Everyone had heard his bike roar as they pulled into the lot. It was still early in the morning, they weren’t expecting anyone till at least midday. They knew it could only mean one thing.

Viper had been the first to greet them, immediately looking to Bunny to see how she was handling it. To his surprise, she seemed calm and relatively relaxed. It definitely hadn’t hit her yet.

“How?” Wiz asked with a raised brow. “You live at a pretty secure place.”

Harry shot him a look. “If I fucking knew, I’d have the thing dismembered by now.” His voice was a low growl. Harry’s whole body screamed danger, he was on edge and his stance was tight. “I’m not keeping her there when he could bypass the guard at the front. Which- I hope someone has a shovel ready because that one needs a shallow grave too, later.

Anyone who allowed this to happen would die. He could see the blood now. It would be the only thing that could make him feel better.

“How do you know it was him?” Viper tried to be reasonable, knowing that despite Harry being normally rational in those terms- he was paranoid when it came to Bunny. Anyone with eyes could see he cared for her.

“I have proof.” He yanked the bag out of his pocket and handed it to him. “That’s from a store we went to yesterday. The son of a bitch was following us. Don’t open that out here.” He warned. Anyone else seeing those panties would make him start screaming.

Viper’s brows flashed up when he saw the name of the shop on the bag. He’d bought his wife a few things from there before, this wasn’t a minor offense.

“I’m guessing it’s the underwear he took from her house the first time, it’s in there with another note.” Harry nodded towards the bag, “I’ll skin him alive. He thinks he can threaten me?” It’s that part of the note that really got to him. There was no doubt that he would be able to kill the fucker, but to have Bunny see it? To think she wasn’t safe with him? It’d be the death of him he was sure.

“You two are welcome to stay here in the meantime. You aren’t going back there anytime soon, little rabbit.” Viper turned to Bunny, he didn’t hesitate to offer them their guest room. It was Harry’s room at first anyway. “I’ll have Mia sort it out for you, Wiz? I think you and Reaper should head back there… bring Kid with you, he’s got a good eye. Get whatever you need for the week and bring it back here. You know she’s safe here.”

Bunny knew better than to comment, this wasn’t the time. Harry was rightfully fuming, he was not in the headspace to be there for her now and she knew that. In fact, this time she wasn’t as spacey— it’s as if she knew something would happen to taint the wonderful mood she’d been in. The awareness of having a full-time stalker had fully settled in.

Harry turned to her. He was trying, that was what mattered. She could see on his face he remembered last time, his solid body stalking up to her and taking her chin in his hand.

“I’m going to take care of it, Bunny.” He said quietly. His eyes still weren’t all there- she could tell his brain was still not really able to fully be there for her but the attempt was there. “M’gonna kill him.”

His lips covered hers roughly, kissing her hard. In front of all the brothers, it was very telling where they stood now. Harry wouldn’t just kiss anyone, his grip on her possessive as he let it linger on the only sweetness he could focus on.

“Text me what you need, yeah? I’ll grab your school shit. We’re taking a truck to grab some shit. Wiz will look at the security systems and we’ll install better ones later but… you’re safe here.” He thumbed over her cheek.  “Viper will introduce you to Mia. I’ve got to go.”

“Be safe, okay?” Y/N wrapped her hand around his wrist, dragging her thumb over the back of his hand that was on her cheek. She leaned into his touch some more, turning her head to press a kiss to the palm of his hand. “I’ll see you later. I’m okay, I promise.” And she really was. She was surprising herself, though it was definitely just a trauma response. Thankfully, she had Viper here to help.

—————————

“Man, he’s a fucking nerd,” Wiz grumbled with annoyance as he searched through the footage, noticing how clean the time cuts had been. There was only a certain time frame it could have been if he’d heard them fucking. “It was still light outside— he’s got some balls I give him that.”

“I’ll feed them to Rover if he even thinks of coming back here again.” Harry spat, not in the mood for jokes. This creep was getting on Harry’s last nerve and he didn’t have many, to begin with.

“Look— you said you got back around 4, yeah? There is a cut from 4:38 to 5. Either he was here for a while or he’s trying to throw us off.” Wiz explained, wanting to see if he had forgotten any cameras.

“He has to be insane. Because there’s no way he knows of us… knows of Reaper’s reputation and is still choosing to go after his girl.” Kid said quietly, pushing his sunglasses up.

The man’s rage could be felt in the place, his body nearly vibrating with anger. Harry knew it was better to have left her there. He didn’t like how this situation was making him feel. It was worrying him a bit. Yes- he snapped many times, he was bloodthirsty and he killed people, he did it without a second thought if the conditions were right, the crime was bad enough. But this was slow burning. Edging. Boiling his rage more and more each day.

He hoped Bunny wasn’t there when he found the guy. No one would be able to stop him from killing him with his bare hands. Nothing could. He wouldn’t stop until he was sure the thing was dead.

“I mean… hacking into security cameras isn’t difficult for a novice once you’ve got access to the deck. But my question is… who let him into the security booth? Because there’s no way an amateur could do this from their own computer.” Wiz looked at him.

“When do your security switch shifts?” Kid piped up. “If he’s watching Bunny it’s possible that he’s been watching this place for a while and knows the shifts. He could have worked it to a way where he messed with a guard or became familiar with them.”

“Kid, how about you go down there and do some investigating.“ Harry would do it himself had he been in a calmer state of mind. Kid was younger and had a kind face, they wouldn’t think anything of it. At the minute Harry was packing Bunny’s essentials, trying to ground himself through the sound of Wiz clicking away on his laptop. He couldn’t trust himself to do anything else, not when he was so on edge.

“Gotcha!” Wiz smacked the desk with delight, zooming in on the one place he knew the guy wouldn’t think to look. “Parking garage cams, how I love you so!” Wiz sing songed, “Come here, both of you.” He stopped Kid in his tracks to the door.

The footage wasn’t the best quality, but it was obvious that someone had stopped to look in Harry’s car. The figure had a toolbox with him, a hat covering his head. Maintenance, a believable disguise.

“This fucker— He did the same thing with his hand when he checked Bunny’s car in the lot.” Wiz pulled up the footage side by side. The hand going up, the way his back hunched.

Harry was deadly silent as he watched, his hands gripping the tabletop so hard that his knuckles were white. The son of a bitch. He didn’t have enough degrading words for him.

There was unfiltered audacity from this motherfucker. He had no fear. None at all, and it made Harry so angry that he could spit. He could maim. He was going to ruin this man and wipe him off this earth. “I’ve never looked forward to ending a life so much in my lifetime.” He murmured quietly, letting the anger fester. It would fuel him later.

Wiz looked at Harry with concern. “Brother… I know it’s hard right now. We’re going to get him. We won’t let him get Bunny.”

“I know,” Harry said simply. “I’m going to track down this fucker the moment I get even a hint of a lead.” He turned and went back to their bedroom. Theirs. It really was at this point, with her stuff all over. Hair ties on his dresser and her makeup in his bathroom. Her slippers were next to his house shoes, her cardigan over his armchair in the corner. Her fake lashes on her nightstand that sometimes he got spooked by and thought were spiders. It made her crack up the time she had caught his jump. She had become a staple in his home and now it felt unsafe.

He hated this.

“I know you will. Without a doubt, we always do. Bunny is a special girl, she gets you, bro. Gotta make sure you keep yourself calm for her. When you do see him? Do what you do best, but right now… We gotta focus.” Wiz had seen Harry in far worse states, though he’d never heard him say he looked forward to killing someone.

Was this the Reaper in love? Even he was afraid to get in his way. The only thing letting Wiz know he was still sane and not too far gone was his tone of voice. He had never seen him so focused while feeling his rage. What spell had the little Bunny put on him?

Harry took a few deep breaths, Wiz was right. He knew he was, but Harry’s anger knew no bounds. He’d spent his whole life trying to control it, trying to find ways to release it. First, it was sex, then it was drugs, and now it was killing.

“Man, I need a fat fucking spliff.”

——————————

Bunny was in her own head, smiling softly at Mia as she chatted to her while they set up Harry’s old room at the clubhouse.

“So I had one of the guys run to Target to grab some fresh sheets and pillows for you guys. I don’t want you to sleep on the gross ones.” She wrinkled her nose. Her hand was going inside the drawers, wiping out the surfaces with disinfectant wipes. The clubhouse was raunchy and not suitable for couple living, but she was doing her best to help Bunny adjust.

She nodded. “Thank you, Mia. Really. I’m usually a lot more talkative, I promise. I’m just a little shaken up.” She felt bad she wasn’t meeting her at her best. It wasn’t personal and her fear was the girl thinks of her as rude or standoffish but she only really wanted Harry right now.

“Please.” She scoffed. “I didn’t mutter more than a yes or no for the first 2 months I was here. If anyone understands being overwhelmed... it’s me. It’s not something I’ve been through myself, your situation… but I know how scary it is to feel out of control of your life and that someone else is pulling the strings. You’re really lucky you’ve got Reaper.” Mia threw the last wipe in the trash bag.

“He’s scary, really, but he’s nice. He isn’t… he doesn’t harass women, he is the first one to put someone in line if they’re being disrespectful to a woman here. The guys here are decent to me but they still are a bit… insensitive at times.”

“Yeah, I can imagine.” Y/N let out a sad chuckle, knowing how difficult it must be to be surrounded by these men all the time. Her comment about Harry did warm her heart, she knew this fact about him, but to hear it confirmed by someone who had no motive was comforting.

“He um… he told me about you, that my brother and my dad were on the mission of helping you.” Bunny knew she didn’t have to say anything else, Mia would know exactly what she had been referencing. “I know you weren’t in the state to meet them properly before things all went to shit, but I’ve known Harry a long time. He’s always been a nice guy at heart.” It was still odd for her to call him Reaper. She didn’t think she ever could. “Don’t tell him I said that though!”

Mia let out a giggle at her last statement, taking a look around the room to see what she could do next.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” She offered a warm smile, “I heard you were a chef.” Mia enjoyed cooking, but the girls in the kitchen were far more skilled than she was. “You have to teach me!”

“I’d love to. Do you have stuff here?” She asked curiously. She was hungry. Her banana had been abandoned in her bag and she could go for some real food.

Shit. She had to email her professors, too.

“I think we should. I’ll go and check.” The knock at the door was Viper, his charming smile making Y/N feel a bit more at ease.

“Delivery.” He opened the door with the three target bags overstuffed, Y/N crossing the room to grab one of them. “I’m glad you two are getting along. Reaper texted me saying he’s on his way back and to have a joint set up for him because he needs it.” He chuckled, placing a few prerolls down on the nightstand. “He used to stay in here when he was younger. It’s his story to tell but after he fell into some shit that was going to actually get him killed, he came here for a while. I saved it and made sure it was blocked off from recreational use.”

The nasty sex that happened in the clubhouse.

“Thank you so much.” Bunny smiled up at him, starting to search through the bag. “Oooo you got me fudge stripes?!” They were Sterling’s favorite, but everyone knew that Bunny was the one who introduced them to him. “You’re the best!” She went to give him a quick hug before moving to make the bed.

“No problem, little rabbit. Listen,” Viper started, “I’m sure you know he’s pissed right now. You seem to know just how to handle him, but he’s very unpredictable at times and I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“He’d never hurt me.” Bunny defended instantly, she had full confidence in the fact.

“I’m not saying he will. I’m saying, if you ever feel unsafe, don’t stay quiet.” Viper’s tone was serious. He had known Harry for a very long time and he admittedly had never seen him so enamored. Anger, much like lust and love, were strong emotions that Reaper didn’t have much experience with containing. “Remember, I’m here to protect you too.” It’s what her father had asked of him.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt but the kitchen is just about to start making lunch so if you wanna take over, now is the time,” Mia confirmed as she stepped into the room. She thought it looked rather charming now that she’d cleaned it up a bit. Not the best, but better than it’s looked in years.

“Right well, duty calls. Tell Harry I’ll be in the kitchen. I’m sure he’ll want some time on his own.” Y/N walked past Viper with a closed lipped smile, still feeling strange after his warning.

—-

Harry walked inside and immediately searched for her. The only person that could keep him remotely sane at the moment.

“Where’s my girl?” He grunted at the group playing cards.

“In the kitchen with Mia. The girl knows where she belong-” Harry had his gun out and the safety clicked off before he could finish the sentence.

“Watch your fucking mouth when you talk about her.” He growled. One wrong move and Harry could snap. Today was not the day, not in the slightest. “I’ll make sure you don’t get any of the shit she’s making.” He knocked the gun against his temple before putting the safety back on and stalking towards the kitchen, hearing an offhand comment about him being pussy whipped. He didn’t care. Maybe he was.

It was good fucking pussy.

He felt a little sliver of relaxation when he saw her in her element. She had an old apron on as she bustled across the kitchen. It was an industrial kitchen that they’d invested in for the large clubhouse parties they had, and his Bunny was obviously loving it. A happy smile on her face as she had her phone connected to a playlist and she chatted with Mia. A bit of cocoa powder was on her neck, the smell of some sort of baked good in the air.

“Told you! It’s not that bad. You taught me tacos and I taught you Lava cupcakes that won’t deflate.” Mia grinned, bumping her hip against Y/N. Harry watched as his girl turned back towards the stove to stir, his body gravitating towards her without any accord of his mind.

Arms wrapped around her from behind, his face hiding in her neck as he engulfed her in a hold. “Smells good.” Was all he was able to say, pressing a kiss to her neck as she stood frozen for a moment. She only relaxed when she realized who it was.

“How do you move so quietly?” Y/N asked as she placed her hands over his biceps. They were her favorite, so smooth and strong and covered in tattoos. She waited a few moments for him to pull his head from her neck but he didn’t budge. It seems he really needed it.

Y/N continued to stir the raspberry compote on the stove, moving it off the heat so it wouldn’t burn while she was loving on her man.

“You okay, baby?” She cooed, taking the moment to turn around and wrap her arms around him in a tight hug. Y/N knew he’d feel comfortable stepping out of his Reaper headspace in the confines of the kitchen. The women were happy to see the man so love-struck.

“Mia cleaned up your old room for us. Fresh sheets, everything’s been wiped down… Viper left some pre-rolls on the bedside table for us.” Bunny felt a sense of relief wash over her now that he was back and safe with her. “Lunch is just about ready, but we don’t have to eat with everyone if you’d rather have some quiet time.”

“Yeah, I’d like to eat just with you. If that’s okay with you.” He didn’t want to cut off her social time but he needed to be alone with her. To just observe her for a bit. Last time he had shut off from her, made her upset and this time he didn’t want even a tiny sliver of that happening. He was trying his best.

There was no such thing as good company for Reaper when he was in this sort of mood. His head was a wreck of nerves because… well, his girl was in trouble. A girl he didn’t deserve, one he had entangled himself with so deeply that he knew he was going to be in a lot of damn trouble with later in. But for now? He was going to take every little moment,  every little ‘baby’ whispered just to him and hold it as close as he could.

“Okay.” She said with her best reassuring smile. As much as she was terrified, she knew Harry had it covered. Perhaps it was a bit naive of her, but seeing how fired up he got in regard to her own safety made her feel even more connected to the man. He cared, he was going to take care of it. Even with the residual stomach ache she had of the dumbass daring to break into their safe spot, no matter how disgusting she felt about the fact he was watching…. She felt safe with Harry.

She turned her head up and pressed a kiss to his jaw, rubbing her nose against him. “Let me make us a few plates. Mia can handle the rest.”

Hesitantly, Harry let her pull away from him to get their food. Only a few more minutes and they could retreat to their room for some peace and quiet. Just how Harry liked it. He couldn’t believe he was back to staying at this hell hole. That she would have to stay here after finally settling in at his place.

He felt like he was doing a terrible job at keeping her safe and secure and it was wearing down on him a bit. Is this what the fucker wanted? He was so tired of thinking about him. He just wanted her.

“Almost done, one second baby.” Bunny’s voice tore him from his thoughts, thank fuck for her. Honestly. “Okay, Viper said he put a little fridge in there for us so we have drinks. Do you need anything else while we are here?”

Y/N had a feeling that once they were in that room they wouldn’t want to come back out unless it was completely necessary. The two of them needed to decompress for a few hours at the very least.

Choosing not to speak, Harry nodded his head no and instead took the plates from her hands.

“I’ll see you later Mia, thanks so much for everything! I’ll see you later, enjoy your lunch!” Y/N grabbed a few cupcakes, utensils, and napkins allowing Harry to lead the way back to their room.

—--

The room was a blast from the past. Sure, he had crashed here a few times since getting his own places but to be staying here for a bit…. It was a weird feeling.

Sitting on the edge of the bed after they finished their food, he watched Y/N go through her bags that he had brought. He didn’t know how long it would take to get the new security system in but he knew that he needed to prepare for anything.

“Did I get everything?” He rasped, her head popping to the side as she nodded. Standing back up and walking over to stand between his legs. Her hands raked through his hair as he rested his head on her breasts, hands settling on her hips as he took a deep breath. He had seemingly forgotten to do that all day, but her touch reminded him that he needed to calm down a little bit.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered into the air. “My place should have been a place to be safe and instead, it was somewhere else he had gotten close. I got too distracted with you and I just….” He shook his head against her. “It makes me so angry.”

“Shhh… listen to me,” Y/N let her nails scratch against his scalp to calm him. “Don’t blame yourself for this, it’s not your fault… you had a security system and seemingly good guards for years, how could you have known this would happen?” This was all obvious to her, but he was not thinking clearly. He was blaming himself because he had promised to protect her and he had control issues.

“I know you’re angry, very angry. As you should be, it’s fucked up that he managed to get into your building and we had to go elsewhere. But I’m safe, I’m with you… we can’t let him think he can get away with this.” Bunny leaned her head down to kiss the crown of his head.

“We knew things would start happening once we provoked him, we can’t act surprised that he’s responding… it’s just, scary that he’s so persistent. I don’t think it’s smart to doubt him. He could really do anything. I’m the one he wants, so as long as someone is with me, I can’t get hurt.”

“You’re always safe with me. As soon as I get my hands on him, he’s going to die, Y/N.” He used her full name, making her blink a few times. He didn’t use it all that often and this was a serious use, making her tilt her head down at him.

“I’m telling you… the moment I get my hands on this man, turn the other way. Run. Do not stand and watch or try and pull me off. Okay? I won’t….” He swallows the lump in his throat. “I can’t be stopped when I get the chance. I’ve killed people before, but I want to watch the life drain from his eyes. I want to watch his fear. Make him beg for mercy and not give it to him because that’s what he deserves.” His breathing picked up, Harry stood up and moved away from her.

“I’m going to tear him apart. I don’t want you to see me like that because it’s… I won’t stop. He’s threatened you, scared you, stalked you? He’s hiding behind cowardly notes, he’s trying to act like he’s smarter than us… I want to burn him alive but that’s too easy of a fucking death. I want to gut him.” He was getting worked up again. “And you’re not going to want to be with me after that. I get that. I’m not easy to be around. I won’t let him get to you. I can’t. I’d rather get shot than let him be alone with you.”

It was clear that once Harry got wrapped up in his own thoughts it was hard for him to calm down. Spending so much time with him, she’d learned some of his triggers and ways to get him to relax.

“You don’t have to justify yourself, Harry. I know what you’re going to do to him, you have been very vocal about it… I haven’t stopped you.” Any sane person would be terrified of him, but it seemed Y/N was too desensitized to all of it. It didn’t phase her that he wanted to kill this man, she felt his anger was justified. Was that fucked up? If she was strong enough to do it herself, she probably would.

“Why are you so sure I’m not going to want to be with you after he’s gone?” Bunny took a few steps closer to him, letting her hands slip under his shirt some skin to skin contact. “Are you forgetting how long I’ve been waiting for this? How long I’ve known that you’re dangerous? Harry, if I didn’t want to be here and if I didn’t want you, I would not be kissing you the way that I do when I do.”

Harry felt himself calm a bit with her hands on his skin, taking a breath as she rubbed his body gently. Her reassurance that she wouldn’t want to leave after he killed him was nice but he didn’t fully believe it. Thank god she was here. She handled things miles better than anyone else would.

“I suppose so.” He replied, responding to her touch by pulling her in and hugging her body to his own. It was easier with her to express things physically. He let out a sigh, trying to collect himself from his outburst.

He didn’t want to explain all the other reasons she would leave to her at the moment. He didn’t want to ruin any time he could have with her. “Remind me…. How long you’ve wanted me?” His lips pecked hers, wanting to be reminded and soaked back in that glow of knowing he wasn’t the only one with pining issues. “Tell me about that. We never talked about it and I need my mind off of this other stuff… I have been neglecting you and we should just relax.” He felt so scattered, so uncontrolled it was infuriating. He needed to focus on her to pull it all in.

She noted the switch up and chose not to say anything, instead melting into the kisses he was giving her. He was right, now wasn’t the time to worry about the future. Right now, they needed to focus on the moment. Y/N could definitely do that.

“Mhmmm,” She hummed against his lips, “Why don’t we get comfy and smoke those j’s and talk about it? I’ll tell you anything you want to know.” Bunny seemed to know the way to his heart, the smile on his face made her giggle. He was really that easy.

“God, could you get any more perfect?” She was right, this would do just the trick.

Bunny took this time to strip down out of the outfit she put on this morning, deciding to stay nude rather than put on a shirt. Sure, it could lead to other things, but she mostly just wanted to be able to feel him.

Y/N climbed into the fresh sheets, humming to herself in relief. Sure it wasn’t as cozy as his bedroom, but it didn’t matter where they were as long as she was with him.

“Baby.” His mouth dried as he turned around, seeing her naked body crawl into the bed. He was quick to make sure the door was locked before giving her a brow, his cock twitching pathetically.

He was a fool. A fool for her, as strange as it may seem. Just a mere flash of her body had him ready to go- but it wasn’t time for that yet. He needed to relax for a moment. Chill out.

“I will be taking advantage of your nakedness in a little while.” He warned, stripping his shirt off and climbing in with her. The lighter sparked up as he lit up, taking a drag and exhaling heavily.

Fuck, he needed this shit.

“Get to puffing and talking, little girl. I want to hear about you pining after me.”

“Okay okay so,” Y/N took a few pulls from the joint as he passed it to her, “I um… I don’t really know when it started to be completely honest.” She tried to think back to a time before she had a crush on him, but it seemed it was instant. “I think at first I was just being the shy little sister, I thought you were handsome and cool and I was obviously younger so I was embarrassed.”

She was 10 years old when she first met Harry. The 16 year old was getting into all kinds of trouble around town, it was a blessing that Viper took him in as an early prospect. It was there at the clubhouse that he had met Sterling and the two hit it off instantly.

“It was just a crush, I genuinely thought it would go away… but as I got older it was harder to ignore. Especially because you were always so nice to me and you just, you didn’t treat me like Sterling did? You always listened even if you thought what I was saying was silly, I never felt like I was annoying you. Maybe I was but—” Bunny began tracing shapes on his chest, only pausing when it was her turn to take a hit.

“But there was this one day I remember, I was 17, I was so horny— I purposely put on a tiny little bikini and laid out by the pool just so you’d look. I think that was the first time I actually planned to try and seduce you.” She laughed thinking back, but he wanted the truth. Didn’t he? “I was so embarrassed after that, I tried to forget about it so it wouldn’t haunt me in college, but it did.”

Harry laughed with her, wincing at her admission. God, it was a little hard to hear only because he certainly wasn’t looking at her back then- but it felt good to know he had been the object of her affections for quite a long time.

“I have to admit… I wasn’t looking at you that way. I think I ended up telling you to cover up because you were close to flashing us.” He shook his head, feeling bad now knowing how she had felt.

“I could tell you had a bit of a crush but I didn’t know it went to that level. I thought you were trying to mess around and make fun of me for that stuff.” He took the joint from her, inhaling his own before letting go. He watched the smoke billow above their heads. “So how long did it last, that crush? Did it get worse or just kind of stay the same?”

Obviously, she had to have felt something for him again now that they were doing… this. Whatever this was. A relationship, maybe? He wasn’t positive. He wanted that, sure, but he didn’t want to be assuming of it and make a fool out of himself. “I remember that one time when you were 19, turning 20 and you crawled into my lap and were really close to me. I thought you were fucking around because you kept giggling but now I’m thinking maybe you weren’t.” She had played off his rejection well if she wasn’t serious.

“Oh, that?” She remembered that night very vividly despite the alcohol in her system. She only remembered because it involved him. How he had shut her down with hunger in his eyes. “I definitely wasn’t fucking with you then… the way you were looking at me I thought you wanted me to, it’s actually why I had the balls to do it in the first place.”

Her in her tiny dress, feeling nervous as ever even with the liquid courage in her system. He looked so good sitting on the couch, he hadn’t stopped watching her all night with those eyes.

“I was really embarrassed after that too, I swore I wouldn’t do it again. But I still had feelings for you.” Y/N tapped the spliff against the ashtray, taking another puff before continuing.

“Do you remember that night when you picked me up from work at the ice cream place?” That was the night that changed everything.

-four years prior-

She had been wincing at the tight grip Josh had on her, his stronger hand tugging her towards his car. “You need to just fucking listen to me, Y/N. Fuck. You’re supposed to be good.” He huffed, eyes dark.

3 years her senior, the 20 year old preyed upon a freshly 17 year old Y/N from their part time job. She was eager to please people and make them happy, bending to their whims as a newly formed adult usually was.

“You’re hurting me, Josh. Stop.” She said weakly, trying to dig her heels in the ground but he yanked again causing her to whimper. His grip burned, twisting the skin- and then it was gone.

A thud of a body hitting metal and a dark growl of a voice filled the air instead, her throbbing wrist cradled to her chest as wide eyes took in Harry’s taller form holding her boyfriend by the neck.

“Like to prey on young girls, huh? Like to abuse them? You piece of shit.” He spit, fist cocking back and nailing him right in the cheek. A yelp sounded from the weaker man, a pathetic ‘stop’ coming from him lips.

“Stop? Stop?” He laughed maliciously, hitting him again. “Don’t think you listened when she asked. So why should I?” He jostled him again. “Huh? Scum of the earth.”

Sterling had texted Harry to pick Bunny up from work that evening. It was a standard procedure, but he’d been running late on an assignment Viper sent him on. So of course, he called the only other person he’d trust with his sister.

Harry himself was running late having just closed shop on the other side of town, but you better believe he was going to make it to get her in time. Or so was the plan.

He hadn’t expected this.

“No—!” Josh’s words were silenced as Harry shoved his face against the hood of the car. He was angry. He’d seen the bruises on her arms before, thought she was just clumsy, but now he’d seen proof that wasn’t the case. It was worse.

“Shut the fuck up,” Harry growled, his grip so tight he swore he could have cracked his skull with his bare hands. “You’re gonna listen to me closely, yeah? Gonna quit this job, gonna stay the fuck away from Y/N, and if I ever hear you’ve done anything to hurt her or any other girls again— I will not hesitate to make you disappear.”

“You can’t d-do this!” The guy tried, but Harry lifted his knee up to nail him in the testicles. A real sob came out of the piece of shit making him roll his eyes.

“I can and I will. I’ll dismember your body piece by piece and have your hand delivered to your family and the rest scattered around town. No one will find you, and if they do? They won’t say shit. You think you’re strong and manly for putting your hands on a woman?” He slammed his face further into the car. “You’re not. You’re a pathetic, worthless piece of shit that doesn’t deserve even a second of a girl like her’s time. If I see you around her, there is no second warning. The only reason you aren’t dead right now is because I don’t have time to clean up the mess.”

He released him and watched him fall to the ground, kicking his side before going to Y/N. “C’mon, Bunny. You won’t see this sad excuse of a boy again.” He placed his hand on her back and lead her toward his truck. “You okay?”

For a second Bunny didn’t move.

She couldn’t believe what she had witnessed. It all happened so quickly but as always, Harry was there at the right time. Y/N never really thought much of Josh’s aggression, but tonight she had seen a side of him she felt terrified of.

Josh, insisting she come over to his house after work despite it being a school night, was not taking no for an answer. The poor girl was tired and honestly just wanted to go to bed, but Josh had other plans for them. Plans Harry had thankfully cut short.

“Y-yeah. I’m okay,” Bunny nodded, taking in deep breaths as she walked to the car. She didn’t want to seem weak, didn’t want to admit she was wrong for previously defending her boyfriend who was so ready to ignore her boundaries. They’d all warned her about him before.

It was then in that moment that Bunny came to the realization she wasn’t quite over her crush on Harry. If anything it just got so much more intense.

He stood up for her, protected her, told her she deserved better, told her she was a good girl. She had always felt safest and most comfortable with Harry, in ways she could never be with Sterling. Sterling was tough on her, had expectations, at times he wasn’t so kind about it— but he meant well.

Harry was patient with her, Harry always made sure she was okay and read between the lines. He took the time to compliment her on things that she cared about. He made her feel seen and valued.

“Thank you,” Was all she could think to say. “Thank you for coming to help me and thank you for um… getting rid of him.” Y/N looked at him with a slightly pained gaze. She wasn’t the object of his affection as much as she made herself out to be in her head. She’d never find anyone else like him, but she could try.

-end of flashback-

“I do. I should have killed him then.” He grunted, messing with the ends of her hair as she smoked. “I hated all your boyfriends. They weren’t good enough for you. Wasn’t even jealousy, though now I could make them disappear for having touched you at all. They simply weren’t.”

Bunny had terrible taste in men but she also got taken advantage of for her sweet nature. They thought of her as a pushover. And she sort of was until she decided to grow a backbone and was dumped for it, leaving her single for quite a bit.

“I thought of you as a kid for quite a while. You were. I watched you grow up. Didn’t start seeing you as a woman until around that time anyway. You coming home from uni and you were about to turn 20… such a pretty little thing. You developed and held yourself differently… you just blossomed. I’d always been fond of you but never like this.”

“Yeah?” Y/N couldn’t stop her smile, a giggle erupting the more his words settled in. “I’d just broken up with Ian. I was so pissed off he just up and decided to move and didn’t even bother telling me.” She rolled her eyes, “But I was in my revenge era when I came back… I honestly didn’t think that’s what would work.”

Years of trying to get him to see her in the way she’d seen him and the moment she let go he was on to her. A light bulb went off in her mind, letting him finish the joint, before deciding to recreate the evening they were discussing now.

“Was sitting like this,” Bunny trailed off as she straddled his lap, her hands resting against his bare chest. He still had boxers on, but the thin fabric was doing very little for them.

Good.

He rose his brow as she straddled his lap. God, he was sexy. Y/N looked down at him as his head was propped up, his long hair pushed out of his face and smoke leaving his lips as he put the rest of the joint into the ashtray.

“Yeah… you caught me off guard back then.” His voice was raspier from smoking, his hands laying on her thighs as she perched herself on top of him. Her nude body exposed to him was a sight to see. His nails gently ran down the skin of her upper thighs, watching as she checked him out.

“What was your plan that night, princess?” He questioned. “You seemed so determined. Played it off as a joke but it wasn’t. And you certainly weren’t naked but… almost. Slutty little dress you had on. I like this view better.”

“Was gonna kiss you,” Y/N hummed at the thought, moving her arms around his neck to lean in closer. “Wanted to ask you why you were looking at me like that… but you stopped me before I even got to.” The girl pouted a bit.

“I was hoping if I got really lucky, you’d take me to my room and fuck me.” Y/N’s eyes were glossy, both from the weed and the lust. Bunny could never quite explain how strongly attracted she was to him, but surely he could tell with how touchy she was with him. “I would have taken your cock right on that couch if you let me… you looked so good too.” Her mouth watered as she remembered the silky white button up contrasting against his sun kissed skin.

Bunny leaned down to kiss his jaw, dipping down to kiss at his neck. It was then that she had the confidence to bite down, giving him a taste of his own medicine and marking him.

“Wanted everyone to know you were mine…” She remembered how her friends kept asking her who he was. How she had to remind them of her crush and how she barely trusted her one friend after the stunt she wanted to pull.

“Hmm… was I?” He questioned, sliding his hands up over her hips, letting out a pleased sigh as she kissed on him. This was hot. The guilt had been too much that day, the idea of his best friend’s little sister being a grown woman and being attracted to her having taken up too much space in his brain… but now? Now he didn’t care anymore.

His hands burned a trail on her body, finding her ass and cupping each side in his palms as her lips crawled over his skin. “Was I yours? Naughty fucking girl. You’ve been filthy this whole time… talking about taking my cock right on that couch. In front of everyone?” He pulled a hand away from the hot flesh, flattening his palm and bringing it down to spank her. He felt her jolt, his hand coming back down to soothe the sting.

“Can’t believe you’ve been gagging for my cock for this long.” He chuckled, the heat of her cunt felt through the fabric of his briefs. “Slut. Jealous, silly little slut.”

She gasped against his skin, settling back into his rough touch as he began to knead the stinging skin. Bunny could only groan, pulling away from his neck with a pop.

“You got me that bracelet…” Y/N licked the string of spit her mouth had left, admiring the mark she’d created. Bunny was proud of herself, he looked so handsome like this. Covered in ink and her bites. “I still have it you know? It’s my favorite.”

The bracelet was hard to miss, she wore it every day and took it off whenever it was time to cook. He noticed it of course but figured she just really liked the style or something.

“Only thing better than that is having your hand as a necklace.” Y/N loved whenever he touched her neck and stomach. It made her whole body tingle, his warm grip always made her melt right into him.

It was a weird combination of fondness and arousal that hit him when she spoke about it. The bracelet had been something to mark her as his? That hadn’t been the intended use but he wasn’t mad about it. If anything; it soothed the possessive beast that was being fed by how much she loved to say she was his.

He removed one of his hands from her ass and pressed his fingers to the sides of her neck, applying just s little pressure to it to make her gasp. “My sweet little Bunny.” He sighed, sitting up with her still snug on his lap. “You’re driving me crazy, y’know that? You love my hand around your neck... being claimed? Marking my neck up like that too, I’ve got to wonder if you’re just as bad as I am.” He pecked her lips, pulling apart and keeping himself an inch apart. She tried to lean forward for more but he shook his head, smiling at the neediness.

​​

“You’re already making a mess on me. Can’t give you too many kisses or you’ll soak straight through.”

“You’re enjoying this? Hmm?” Bunny gave him a massive stroke to the ego, she wondered what else she could get him to reveal. “Tell me more about that night… what did you want to do?” She couldn’t have been the only one thinking about it.

“Kept telling me you’ve been holding yourself back, wanna hear all about it.” Y/N needed to know just what he’d been thinking. It was still a mystery just what he liked, he’d kept things tame with her and followed her lead. It made her wonder what things were tucked away in his mind. The fantasies specifically reserved for her.

Y/N continued melting into his touch, slowly and painfully moving her hips over him to tease them both. It was unspoken the way they were both trying to see who would break first. She hoped neither of them did.

“What do you think, Pet? Think I didn’t want to steal you away and take you right in your bedroom, hold your mouth quiet while I fucked you? I did. It made me feel so fucking guilty. You’re younger than me. Legal for a few years but made me feel so bad about wanting to find out how you taste.”

He had the moral dilemma for a while now, finally giving in and breaking when she stayed with him. She was a grown woman now and she had initiated, she was keeping herself as his girl, wearing the title proudly whenever and wherever she could.

“Then you’d show up to these things in those tiny little shorts and those bra tops… acted like a brat in front of me. Flirting with men you shouldn’t have. Calling me for a ride. You think I wasn’t two seconds away from spanking your ass until it was sore the next morning?” He grit his teeth as he remembered her lacy little tops and her shorts that drove him mad. “Now look at you. Naked in my lap, grinding on me. Letting me smoke you up. You’re a big girl now, aren’t you darling?” His thumb stroked over the side of her throat, pulling her face back towards him. “I’ve barely done half of what I want to do with you.”

The thought made her shiver with need, she couldn’t wait for him to feel comfortable enough to take her whenever he wanted. She loved his needy streaks, the way his hands wrapped around her as a form of comfort. How his breathing was more controlled and his body went limp in her hold.

“Mmmm, perfect for you no? I know just what you like.” She teased, attempting to push forward to kiss him again. “Like that I like to tease, you like me being a good girl, but you love that I’m bad hmm?” Y/N always gave Harry just the perfect amount of pushback. She wasn’t exactly a pushover but submitted to him nicely.

“Are you gonna let me fuck you how I want one day?” She asked curiously, this position on top of him was rather comfortable. Bunny knew she could show him just how good she could make the both of them feel.

“I’ll make you feel so good, Daddy.”

“Of course, I am, baby.” He swallowed, stroking over her bare skin. “M’gonna let you do what you want one day. I love when you’re a bad girl just for me. My sweet little Angel turned a bit filthy.”

Their kiss was wet as he felt her rub on him, the heat of her cunt directly over his cock. It felt really fucking good. Just having her on his lap, rocking on him as he stroked her and played with her body, tasting her tongue… he could do this forever.

It was such a stark difference from how he was with anyone else. It was just an in and out. With his girl, though? He wanted to savor each and everything. Sure, he rushed sometimes… but times like this, he savored each and every little bit as she spoke to him with her raspy sex voice.

“What’s the way you want, baby? How do you want to fuck? Don’t be shy.” He bit on her lip, making her gasp at the slight sting. “Tell me.”

“You’re so impatient, baby.” She cooed, pushing his hair back behind his ear. Bunny loved that she had something to grip on to, tugging at the hair by the nape of his neck. “I wanted so long for this, why would I spoil my fun?” Her bratty side was often out around him.

She felt safe enough to challenge him, knew deep down he could never really deny her. It had always been this way when she used to hang around him when her father was mentoring him in mechanics.

“I do, however,” She trailed off, placing wet kisses on his neck. “Want to use your cock to the fullest, ride you to my heart's content, keep you deep inside me…”

Her skin was on fire at his touch, hips still moving agonizingly slow. She could take this, tease them both till they snapped.

“Use me?”

Harry had been aware of the fact that she dirty minded since they’d started this whole thing. She had been eager and needy, always giving him what he wanted. It wasn’t a shock she was waiting on her own turn to use him. He loved how she touched him, how she raked her nails down his neck and sucked bruises onto the most sensitive parts of his skin. He had met his match in a lot of ways with Bunny.

“Fuck.” He grunted, hand gripping her hip as she rocked her cunt over his clothed cock. Over and over again, teasing him with each brush. He could feel her begin to seep through the fabric, the slickness of her cunt making a mess of his briefs and he didn’t give a single fuck about it. In fact, he encouraged it. “You can have it. Can have me whenever you want. I’ll give you what you want.”

She didn’t even know the extent that went to.

“Whenever I want?” Bunny smiled against his skin, nipping another bite to match so it matched the other side. “You’ll let me do whatever I want?” Y/N pulled back to look at him, her hand still gripping at his hair. Her eyes searched his, breathing heavily from the torturous hip movements.

Harry’s eyes were glossy, mind a bit hazy from the joint, he was so focused on his pleasure that he truly didn’t care how he got it. He wasn’t one to feel shy, especially not around her. Not when she opened herself up to him so well, the sweet thing.

“Whatever you want.” His hand gripped her skin tighter, forcing her to further down onto his cock. The weight of his hand was guiding her hips to speed up. A steady pace, but nothing too fast.

“Would you beg for me?” She countered, “Just how much self-control do you have?” Y/N created enough resistance with her hips to make him whine. She only felt like she could get away with this because he was so relaxed in this moment. He was truly free of thought and focused entirely on her and her alone.

“Fuck, yeah.” He groaned as he felt her move harder on top of him. It was a bit odd, how good it felt. Anything with Y/N felt incredible, but he hadn’t done this sort of thing in so long. He certainly didn’t remember it feeling this good.

Maybe it was just her.

Her fingers tugged at his hair a bit and her cunt rubbed over his prick, the added friction of the fabric made him weak. He was so far gone for her as it was, mix the intoxication and her naked body with the feelings he had been growing for her? It was a recipe for his devotion.

“I’ll do whatever y’want, baby. You’re perfect.” He slurred, lifting his knees a bit as she rocked on him, the hips moving at a faster pace and making his cock twitch against her. “Please, baby. My pretty girl…. Keep talkin’. You sound so hot.” His eyes hooded as she gripped his hair tighter, moving his face up as she pinned him with her eyes.

God, that did something to him.

A smug smile appeared on her face as she stared down at him, leaning forward to sponge a few loving kisses to his lips. The big and scary Reaper was melting in her hands, giving in to her in ways she’s positive no one else had experienced. He was so malleable for her.

“You look so good for me right now, so hard too… It’s taking everything in me not to sink down and fully soak your cock.” The time would come for that, but right now she was enjoying the little bubble of tension. She had never been so horny that she could cum with dry sex alone, not since she was a teenager anyway.

“And how would you feel if I….” She trailed off, her hand moving to cradle his neck the way he had always done with her. “S’ that alright?” She leaned forward for a kiss once again. “Just like you own me, I own you. Don’t forget that.” While her grip was much more gentle, she kept her tone firm.

By no means did she see him ever submitting to her, but she’d hoped she could get him to a space where he could let go. Fully. Where he could relax into her grip and let her love on him and his body the way he had always done for her.

“So handsome, so strong.” She cooed, “You’re so fucking sexy. Even when you’re mad.”

“Fuck.” His eyes rolled back as he felt the hand wrap around his throat. Anyone else would be pinned to the ground if they tried it- but she was right. She did own him. Heart, soul, and apparently, his cock. He loved how she wasn’t afraid of him. Harry knew he would do anything in his power to prevent her from ever fearing him. It may be hard, but he was motivated to keep it.

Her words of praise were whispered against his skin as she kissed over his jaw, his hands helping her move. The fingertips dug into her waist and she loved the slight sting of it, how he groaned and she could feel it against her palm.

“Just keep rubbing like that. Shit, it’ll make me cum if you don’t stop.” It was almost embarrassing. He hadn’t had dry sex, dry humped, in ages. But he supposed this wasn’t so dry. Her cunt was keeping the fabric damp.

“I intend to.” Bunny wanted nothing more than to feel his cum leak through his boxers. Of course, she would rather it be inside of her, but this had become hotter than she had ever imagined.

“Can you get it all wet for me? Want it to be sticky, said you liked it messy hmm?” Y/N was on a roll, grinding down a bit harder now as she felt her own pleasure begin to stir. “God, love how you fall apart for me. Only me.” She moaned out, “Wanna see your face when you make your mess.”

Y/N wasn’t sure where this was coming from but she couldn’t seem to get her mind off of the idea. She loved the sounds he made for her, the way his eyes looked so far gone, he was desperate for her to give him this release. She wanted nothing more than to give it to him. To please him.

Harry was pretty positive he couldn’t deny her of much of anything. Not when she spoke in that pretty little croon, grinding her wet cunt right up on him and making him feel a bit out of control all over again. She was the only one capable of getting him to this state.

“You’re….” He grunted, not finishing his sentence as she moved on him, her fingers squeezing just a bit on the sides of his neck. It made it a bit more difficult to breathe, a rush hitting him as her lips brushed his jaw and her rolling hips hit him just right, it sent him over the edge.

“Fuck.” He rasped, a deep moan erupting from his throat as he began to make a mess of his briefs. Sticky cum coating the fabric as she continued to grind on him. It wasn’t something he would have suggested himself- but fuck, did it feel good.

The mix of shame and pleasure was oddly satisfying. She had wanted him to do this but he had been insistent on making her cum first most of the time. He wanted to take care of her, make Bunny feel like a priority.

“That’s it,” Bunny wasn’t quite done with him, feeling the wetness on his boxers every time she pushed up. “Perfect.” He really was. The way his lips parted, head lulling back against the rusty bed frame. “Sound so good. I’m so close.”

Y/N felt her cunt twitch, his panting was music to her ears. His skin was covered in a thin layer of sweat, body limp and relaxed. It was so hot to see him like this, completely in his element with no guard up. Just Harry, raw and pure.

“I’m close, baby,” Bunny whined, moving her thumb over his lips just before kissing them. “Just watching you— fuck.” Her hips snapped up sharply as a wave of pleasure hit. “Does it feel good? Looks like it does, tell me what you like.” Bunny was insistent.

“Feels fucking great.” He laughed, eyes glazed as he watched her rock over him. He was a bit sensitive but he didn’t care, watching her pleasure. Bunny deserved to cum.

“Like when you get desperate for me… when you beg. Rubbing that clit all over my cock. Love watching you fall apart.” His voice was raspy, hands gripping her sides and helping her move a bit harder on him. “S’sensitive but I love it. Love feeling you rub on me, taking your pleasure. You do it for me…‘I want t’do it for you, baby.”

Y/N hadn’t heard him talk like this before. Being kind of whimpery and sweet and feeling his desperation for her orgasm. She loved every single bit, eating it up.

“We’re making such a mess. I want you to clean it with your tongue, want you t’suck it. Don’t want you to waste a bit of my cum. It should be inside of you.”

“I will— I wanna,” Bunny was so close she could barely think straight. A delicious feeling was bubbling in her tummy, urging her to keep grinding over him. The patch she had created had doubled in size, every movement bringing the fabric down just enough to see the slickness beneath his waistband.

“Ah fuck,” She squeezed her eyes shut, holding her breath as the pleasure erupted. As if her nickname had been chosen for this very moment, she felt like a bunny the way she was desperately chasing for more.

It was overwhelming, but she couldn’t stop. The feeling was far too good and the look in his eyes was one she wanted etched into her memory forever.

[asagirisfavoritepen]

Gakuen AU where Chuuya switched schools. He moved from Sheep High School to Port High School.

And the two schools are rivals. They compete in everything. Sports games, competitions, everything. These two schools literally hate each other.

And Chuuya used to be their best student. He won a lot of sport games and competitions for Sheep High School. His best friends there were Shirase and Yuan and the three of them where in the Student Council. Chuuya was the president.

But then he had to move schools because of his older brother, Paul. So now Chuuya is in the enemy school forced to work against his friends.

He joins The Flags, a school club that no one actually knows what they do. They're the school's elite, and their members are Pianoman, top of the his year, charming and kind, Lippmann who is also in the drama club (he actually played in a movie but no one at school knows) that is very successful in everything be does, Doc who spends almost all of his time in the nurse's office and no one knows if he's sick or is helping her (both), Albatross who is not the class clown but the school clown, he's very popular and he has a love-hate relationship with all of the teachers and Iceman that no one seems to actually knows and there's a rumor he's in a gang.

At the new school Chuuya decides that if he has to stay here at least he'll show how great he is so he decides to join the Student Council, which is hard. He's still trying his best and working hard to get in it.

Speaking of the Student Council, its president is Osamu Dazai but no one knows why and how because he's never there and he's doing nothing. In the Council are also Kōyō, who is basically doing all of the work, Adam, an exchange student that everyone seems to find weird but he's still quiet popular, and the teachers love him.

Speaking of the teachers, the principal is Mori Ougai, former doctor that probably became principal because of the lack of choices (he didn't like being a doctor because he wasn't getting any sleep. He isn't getting any more now) and he's also the biology teacher, Hirotsu who's the maths teacher he's strict but nice, Oda who is called by everyone Odasaku, he is the literature teacher but he will sometimes use the last 10-15 minutes of his class to help his students get ready for another class exam. There's also Ango who is the secretary, he hasn't slept since he started his career and most of the students love to make fun of him. And the only teacher that doesn't like Dazai, Murase that's the PE teacher. He's also Chuuya's uncle but he acts like he isn't (nobody is falling for that).

Chuuya is especially good in physics, French (he learned it from Adam ridiculously fast) and PE. He hates Dazai because he always makes fun of him and thinks he's so much better.

And after Chuuya spends like a year at the new school there's a very important competition. And Port High School sends Chuuya to participate and from the other school comes Shirase, who was picked by the new principal that's called N. And mid-competition they find out that new Sheep's principal was faking the score Shirase got. Chuuya tried to tell this to Shirase but he wouldn't listen.

At the end of the competition, Chuuya managed to prove what N was doing (with a bit of help of Adam, Dazai and Shirase who finally believed Chuuya).

The end

[thatsastepladder]

More postmortem thoughts on Krakoa era X-Men and why, exactly, it was a divisive era with fans and why it turned out the way it did.

First things first, I think we need to define why people like X-Men stories - or, at least, why I, personally, like X-Men stories or any story for that matter. To paraphrase Jim Carville, "It's the characters, stupid."

Ignoring the Lee/Roth/Thomas years because Silver Age X-Men was a miserable failure of a comic book with a few glimpses of greatness when Neal Adams was on the title, let's turn our attentions to the true foundational texts of the X-Men: Chris Claremont's legendary tenure on the book.

Claremont's run was characterized by many things - exceptionally verbose dialogue, a litany of personal catchphrases, lots of fetish fuel content - but I want to focus on the thing that, above all, made X-Men a success. That, of course, being Claremont's character work.

What made X-Men (and its sister titles at DC, New Teen Titans and Legion of Super-Heroes) a success was the focus on interpersonal character drama mixed with superhero action. In the grand Marvel tradition, we got to know these characters in the good times (Kitty Pryde adopts a pet alien dragon!) and the bad (Kitty Pryde's parents are getting a divorce!). Logan and Scott and Ororo and Kitty and Kurt and Piotr and etc felt like real people because of the amount of time we, as readers, got to spend with them, seeing their internal monologues, their dynamics with each other, their personal demons, etc.

So fast-forward thirty years post-Claremont to Krakoa. The X-line is flagging and has been for years - for reasons largely self-inflicted by Marvel editorial at that - and so they bring in Jonathan Hickman to fix things. And he does. House of X/Powers of X is an immediate sales success, and Krakoa posits an exciting new status quo for the X-Men.

Except there's one issue. X-Men at its best is a character-driven book, and Hickman is very much not a character writer. His forte is large-scale science fiction stories that all tell the same story. What Tom King is to "war veteran struggles with PTSD", Hickman is to "great men build something great and it all comes crashing down because of their hubris." And Hickman can and will mold existing characters to better fit into that rubric.

This - the transformation of the X-Men from a superhero soap opera into a high-concept sci-fi story about Dominions and mutants vs. machines and Moira X - was where I think things went wrong. Krakoa, with some finessing, is a solid premise - but the real meat of it is in character dynamics that we didn't get.

Okay, Sinister is on the Quiet Council, cool. How does Cyclops feel about that? The Morlocks are all resurrected- but their killers have been granted a clean slate. Is Callisto going to let that stand? Rockslide died and came back wrong, and we never got to see Anole's reaction to it.

That's the Krakoa I would have wanted to see. Keep some of the big, grand plot elements - Orchis is absolutely implausible the way Hickman presented it, but maybe a scaled-back version? - but focus on character dynamics and drama on the island itself. (Rather than having a pirate book, a magic/Arthurian legend book, a space book, etc. Use the primary X-Men titles to explore those areas rather than bastardizing Kitty Pryde into some vulgar pirate captain.)

[d0ugg1e]

TTTE school headcanons because i have nothing better to do

Thomas: That one child that the teachers cannot seem to get to sit still. Absolute chatterbox, yet somehow gets an A on all of his classes. He is 100% the kid that starts food fights in the cafeteria. Somehow he's that one kid that constantly gets into trouble but never seems to get expelled. Constantly bouncing off the walls like a 5 year old who just had coffee, and god pray that the child he just shoved in the locker is okay.

Edward: The president of the student council. Very responsible and always pays attention in school. Keeps the "annoying kids" in line (Thomas, Bill and Ben). Wise, kind, and helpful around the school, always volunteers to assist anyone in need. Practically a cool grandpa but won't hesitate to kick your ass or berate you if you need it. People know when to back off when he gets too stern with them. A mad Edward was a very scary Edward.

Henry: One of the popular kids alongside Gordon and James. A pretty good student aside from minor bullying. He loves to make fun of the smaller kids below him, but his popularity makes up for it. One of the bigger kids as well. Likes biology because of his love for plants, probably gets an A+ in that class. Would probably be a good candidate for the student council if it wasn't for him teasing the others. Thomas pranked him one time and got a terrifying death glare from him.

Gordon: The boastful boy of the school. One of the popular kids alongside Henry and James. He thinks too full of himself and thinks he is the smartest in the school. He's popular all around school. Gets above average grades in all classes, but isn't the smartest as he thinks he is (It's actually Edward). Makes fun of the little kids and teases Thomas a lot. He isn't a fan of pranks though (Percy had replaced his coffee creamer with glue one time and he was not happy.)

James: The drama queen A.K.A queen bee of the school. He always wants to look his best, whether its for class or for prom. Probably dubbed as "one of the prettiest in the school" which boosts and feeds his ego a little too much. Thinks too full of himself. Sassy and sarcastic, teases the little kids but not as much as Gordon does. Gets average grades. Head of the Drama club. He refuses to drink from the water fountains because it's unsanitary.

Percy: A quiet kid. Spends most of his time writing or reading in the library. Gets pretty good grades on everything no matter the subject. A little naive, and a pretty good target for bullying, but he sometimes smartasses his way out of it. Best friends with Thomas, and together, they're an unstoppable duo who would do anything to outsmart the Strike Trio and play jokes on them. He was rejected from the student council because Toby said he was too naive.

Toby: The vice president of the student council. Likes to hang out with Edward like old grandpas. Drinks earl grey tea with Edward and talk about the events that goes around at school. Sometimes, they invite Bill and Ben to enjoy tea with them. Gets above average grades on every subject and is very responsible for everything he does. Considerate and careful, and also very wise. He was caught picklocking into janitors closet by Edward one time, though.

Montague 'Duck': A normal student. Not very smart but not dumb either. Gets average grades and is a pretty chill fellow. The Strike Trio are still apologetic to him, and the four of them still get along greatly. A transfer student, technically. He and Oliver are best friends, and they have a friend group consisting of him, Oliver, Donald, and Douglas. Sometimes, Toad joins them when he feels like it. Whenever Donald passes by, he would always let out a little 'quack' at him.

Donald: A pretty well behaved student, though sometimes he can get out of line. A charming yet witty joker, is always seen with his twin Douglas. He's more selfless and confident in himself, standing up against the bullies, especially when Douglas got into feuds with a spiteful student. He and his brother are one of the few people that the Strike Trio is aware to not piss off, or else it'll get messy. Sometimes, he likes to get mischievous with Thomas and Percy if he feels like it.

Douglas: Secretary of the student council. Calm and collected, but won't hesitate to snap at anyone who makes him ticked off. He's less chaotic than his twin, who he is always seen with. Not a fan of defending himself or fighting back, which is why he has Donald to fight for him most of the time, as when he was against a spiteful student. He's always up for mischief though, if the prank is good enough. Edward, Toby, and Emily were not pleased to find mustard in their tea.

Oliver: Hangs out with Duck, Donald, and Douglas most of the time. Used to be cocky and arrogant, but is now more humble and wise after some other students bullied him. Still regrets the time where he accidentally injured Scruffey to the point he was hospitalised. Whenever with Douglas, he is always down for a trick or two. Likes to hang out with Toad, they're practically inseparable. Douglas was not impressed when he taught Toad how to say 'Bitch' in Gaelic.

Emily: Treasurer of the student council. An elegant straight A student. Likes to spend her time with Thomas and James, and they all get together to pull pranks on the others. Despite this, she's a good student and works very hard. Sometimes, she has to put Thomas and James back in line because they're just too cheeky and naughty. Almost sort of like a big sister to the engines. Is still currently figuring out ways to get back at Douglas for the 'mustard tea'.

[the-celluloid-correspondent]

Shōgun: A Historical Masterpiece.

Set in Japan in the year 1600, Lord Yoshii Toranaga is fighting for his life as his enemies on the Council of Regents unite against him, when a mysterious European ship is found marooned in a nearby fishing village.

Based upon the acclaimed novel, Shōgun is a historical retelling of Lord Tokugawa Ieyasu's (Yoshi Toranaga) establishing the Tokugawa Shōgunate in early 17th Century Japan from the point of view of an English Pilot named, William Adams (John Blackthorn)Premiering on the small screen in 1980, the series received mass critical acclaim and earned an Emmy for Outstanding Limited Series. Four decades later, it returns, breathing new life into the television with its unparalleled storytelling. Breaking away from the mediocrity that often plagues the streaming industry, Shōgun stands as a monumental historical epic of a real-life struggle over the throne for Japan. 

Shōgun unfolds like a meticulously played game of Shogi, where every move, character, and line of dialogue is infused with purpose and significance. This captivating narrative takes viewers on a journey through a power struggle that shapes feudal Japan, weaving together political intrigue and human drama in a rich tapestry of storytelling. From the intricacies of Japanese society to the cunning maneuvers of rival warlords, Shōgun immerses audiences in a world where every scene serves a distinct purpose. Each twist and turn of the plot is carefully crafted, drawing viewers deeper into the heart of the conflict and revealing the complex web of alliances and betrayals that define the era. The dialogue and monologues in Shōgun are masterfully written, brimming with both context and subtext that add layers of depth to the narrative. Like beautiful lines of poetry, they flow seamlessly together, driving the story forward with precision and purpose. At its core, Shōgun captures the essence of one of the most pivotal moments in Japanese history, offering a compelling exploration of power, ambition, and the human spirit. As viewers are drawn into this world of political conspiracy and personal sacrifice, they are treated to a mesmerizing blend of drama, suspense, and historical authenticity that commands the screen from start to finish. 

Shōgun derives its true essence from its characters, each intricately woven with layers of complexity and depth, enriching the overarching drama. Among them, Cosmo Jarvis's portrayal of John Blackthorn emerges as a standout performance, deftly navigating the challenges of embodying a character whose natural loudness and clumsiness contrast sharply with the subtleties of his Japanese counterparts. While some may initially interpret Blackthorn's demeanor as a flaw in the performance, Jarvis's deliberate portrayal serves a greater purpose—to underscore the cultural abyss between him and the people of Japan. Through his portrayal, Jarvis adeptly captures the profound culture shock experienced by his character, allowing viewers to witness a compelling transformation from a brash and ambitious Englishman to a man deeply immersed in Japanese customs. It is in these quieter moments that Jarvis truly shines, infusing his character with depth and nuance.

Similarly, Anna Sawai's portrayal of Toda Mariko exemplifies the art of subtle acting. With a mere glance, Sawai effortlessly conveys a myriad of emotions, her thousand-yard stare speaking volumes about her character's inner turmoil and quiet resilience. Her performance is a testament to the power of restraint, as she deftly navigates Mariko's journey of suffering and hope, her emotions simmering beneath the surface until they erupt with raw intensity. Even in moments of despair, Sawai's portrayal radiates a glimmer of hope, underscoring the resilience of the human spirit.

The ensemble cast of "Shōgun" shines brilliantly, each member delivering performances that leave a lasting impact. From the charismatically charming yet brutal portrayal of Tadanobu Asano as Yabushige to the scheming and cunning rendition of Fumi Nikaido as Ruri, every actor breathes life into their character with skill and precision. Moeka Hoshi's portrayal of the broken yet resilient Fuji, and Takehiro Hira's power-hungry depiction of Ishido, further solidify the ensemble's strength, while Tokuma Nishioka's powerful and wise portrayal of Hiromatsu adds depth to the narrative.

However, it is Hiroyuki Sanada's performance as Yoshii Toranaga that truly stands out, marking a triumphant moment in his career. Despite being typecast and overlooked by Hollywood for years, Sanada seizes the opportunity to showcase his talents as both an actor and a producer in Shōgun. In his portrayal of the powerful and intimidating Toranaga, Sanada commands the screen with a commanding presence, embodying his character's intellect, ambition, and prowess with aplomb. What sets Sanada's performance apart is his ability to infuse Toranaga with an unpredictable nature, keeping viewers on the edge of their seats as they anticipate his next move. With each moment on screen, Sanada captivates audiences with his depth and nuance, delivering what can only be described as his finest performance to date. Finally given a role where he can truly shine, Sanada proves himself to be a force to be reckoned with, cementing his status as one of the industry's most talented actors.

Every aspect of this series is a visual feast. The cinematography is nothing short of breathtaking, capturing the stunning landscapes and rich cultural tapestry of Feudal Japan with remarkable skill. From the intricate costumes to the meticulously crafted production design, every detail is thoughtfully considered, drawing viewers deeper into the immersive world of Shōgun.

But Shōgun is more than just television—it's an immersive journey into one of the most pivotal moments in Japanese history. With its masterful storytelling and captivating characters, the series transcends the screen, offering viewers a profound exploration of the human experience against the backdrop of historical upheaval. In a landscape dominated by formulaic narratives, Shōgun stands as a shining example of the power of the historical epic, reminding us of the importance of stories that not only entertain but also enlighten and inspire.

My Rating: A

[aphroditestummyrolls]

Crows Masterlist ❤️

A list of my most recent stories and their AO3 links. Since I’m writing more than one story at once, it doesn’t make sense to just pin my latest chapter every time I update.

So, as I write new oneshots/update stories, I’ll update this post. There’s still so many stories to add to the Engagement Series, and like it says on the tin, I will not rest until I’ve sated every last bit of my Colm Fahey Drama.

If you like my stories, please tell me, either through an AO3 comment or here on tungl ❤️ my inbox is always open to talk about characters or stories/series you want to know more about. You might even get a new snippet 👀.

The Wylan Whump Fic™️

Between Hope and Desperation (Jesper/Wylan & everyone)

Wylan and Jesper are kidnapped when Wylan Van Eck's past bursts in on Wylan Hendriks's fragile present. Secrets are revealed, blood is spilled, and trust is required.

The Engagement Series (Jesper/Wylan)

Terrible, Absolutely Horrible (affectionate)

Jesper and Wylan being giggly, giddy, and newly engaged, featuring bad pick up lines and being excited about the future

A More Formal Title

Wylan and Jesper are settling into life on the geldstraat, but the older council members are… traditionalists. Wylan is summoned to a last minute council meeting, regarding his barrel boyfriend.

In Fits and Starts

on the eve of their sons’ wedding, two strangers come to understand each other. with a bottle of whiskey and a quiet spot to rest, they indulge the memories of their little boys, and look to the future when the past hurts too much.

Colm Fahey Discovers Jesper’s Ketterdam Life (I will not rest until I’ve written just about every version of this trope)/Colm Fahey-heavy Stories

Keep You Safe (Colm Fahey & Jesper/Wylan)

6 months post Crooked Kingdom— in a universe where Jesper took the parem, Matthias lived, and Colm Fahey didn’t make an appearance in CK— Colm Fahey comes looking for his son, and doesn’t find him in any of the places he expected.

Time for a Spare Prayer (Colm & Everyone; Jesper/Wylan)

Wylan’s name has become a target on his back, but his crows are there to protect him. Until things go wrong and Wylan is alone. Suddenly, Colm Fahey is the only witness to an attempt on Wylan’s life, and becomes a target himself.

Stronger than Fear (Wylan & Matthias)

A deleted scene directly after the end of Chapter 4 of Time for a Spare Prayer. Matthias brings Wylan something to eat after a truly terrible day.

The Only Way Out (is through) (Colm & Wylan/Jesper)

3 times that Colm Fahey was acutely aware that Wylan Van Eck needed a better father, plus 1 time where he stepped up to be the da he deserved.

Five More Minutes (Colm & Wylan/Jesper)

a missing scene from Only Way Out (is through) inspired by a drabble game request for wesper “accidentally sleeping in”.

Before Sunrise (Colm/Aditi featuring tiny baby Jesper)

Jesper is a colicky little baby, and Colm just wants his poor wife to be able to sleep. (Inspired by Colm’s description of Jesper in In Fits and Starts)

If you like my writing, please consider buying me a coffee