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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 5 months ago

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Go in Shadows

Pairing: modern!Aemond Targaryen x f!reader Warnings: Alcohol use, drunken behaviour, referenced drug use, angst, eventual smut. Word count: ~8.5k

Summary: Summers spent with her best friend, Helaena, are the highlight of her year. However, a week-long stay at her place does not go as she expects it to when surrounded by one Targaryen brother that she pines for unrequitedly, and another that can't seem to stand her.

Author's note: For @lauraneedstochill. Thank you to @aegonx for giving this a once over for me before I kicked it out of the door. No tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

The grass tickles delicately at the backs of her bare thighs, causing her to squirm and change position, pulling the hem of her floral summer dress lower as she crosses her legs. It’s a hot and sunny Friday afternoon in July, and she’s making the most of her four day working week by spending her day off in the park with her best friend, Helaena.

Summer has always been her favourite time of year, from the six week long holidays of secondary school to the three month university breaks, and now the stolen afternoons and all too brief weekends of the working week. Helaena has been at her side for all of them. Summer is their time, a season in which their friendship has always thrived, fortified beneath a sun that never sets.

Helaena pauses, keeping the daisy chain she’s making in her hands still as she leans forward ever so slightly, watching intently at the wasp that buzzes around the open bottle neck of Koppaberg Cider that rests beside her, the heat of the day causing droplets of moisture to sweat from the glass.

“That’s going to drown in your cider, if you aren’t careful,” she warns her.

“Mmm,” Helaena muses dreamily, her eyes never leaving the wasp. “It wants the sugar.”

She watches for a few more moments, before it flies away, and then her attention turns back to her daisy chain, her numb nail piercing through the stem of the flower, before threading another through.

“Did your annual leave get approved for next week?” Helaena asks, blue eyes lifting from the floral chain in her hands to look at her hopefully.

“Yeah, I’m all set,” she says excitedly, before taking a swig of her own cider, relishing the way the sweet, berry flavour fizzes against her tongue. “So, what’s the plan?”

It’s not a question she really even needs to ask. It’s the same every year; Alicent takes a week-long trip to Oldtown to visit her father, Otto, and ever since Helaena was considered old enough to no longer accompany her, she stays behind, and the kids are left with a free house. She stays for the entire week, the house large enough that it feels like a holiday without needing to leave King’s Landing. They enjoy seven unsupervised days of swimming in the pool, raiding the fridge, and the inevitable rowdy and out of control parties that Helaena’s older brother, Aegon, insists upon throwing.

And therein lies the real reason she’s asking; to check which of the brothers will be in attendance. She has fancied Aegon for as long as she can remember, though he has never given her a second look beyond viewing her as his younger sister’s best friend. She exists in his shadow, laughing at all of his jokes, living for every thousand watt smile he casts her way, overlooking his often drunken, reckless behaviour, and pretending she doesn’t feel a burning sense of envy at the seemingly never ending rotation of girls he goes out with. His shadow seems to be where she is destined to remain forever, desperate to experience the warmth of his attention turned to her even once. The unrequited feelings weigh heavy upon her heart, tormenting her with soaring hope and devastating reality in equal measure.

As if able to read her mind, Helaena sighs. “Aegon’s going to be there…and Aemond too.”

She groans at this. Helaena’s younger brother, another bane of her existence, though for a completely different reason to Aegon. Aemond genuinely seems to loathe her, actively going out of his way to avoid her, refusing to even look at her if they’re in the same room. His responses are curt, bordering upon rudeness when she has tried previously to engage him in conversation, and so she has given up, taking to ignoring him just as he does to her, though it does not come as naturally to her as it does him. She feels her skin prickle in his presence, fidgeting uncomfortably at the shift in energy in the room whenever he enters. Back in secondary school, she had made an attempt to forge a bond with him, by approaching him with the history essay she was due to hand in, and asking for him to take a look at it in case there were any improvements he thought she could make.

Aemond had scoffed as he’d looked it over, sliding the papers back across the table towards her with a harsh flick of his wrist. “Derivative,” he’d commented dismissively. “The point you’re trying to make is too diffuse for you to adequately summarise it. If you were to improve it, you’d simply have to rewrite it.”

She had walked away holding back tears, bitterly regretting her decision to attempt to extend an olive branch. When the essay had been given back to her she had been awarded an A grade, which made Aemond’s comments even more baffling to her.

“Great,” she says with a roll of her eyes, “assuming he’ll have Alys to keep him busy?”

Helaena gives a solemn shake of her head. “They aren’t together anymore, so please try to be nice to him.”

She looks at Helaena incredulously. “Be nice to him?! Hel, Aemond hates me!”

“He doesn’t,” she replies with a gentle certainty.

“You don’t know that,” she huffs, swigging from her cider bottle once more.

“I do, actually,” Helaena utters, before turning her attention back to her daisy chain.

She feels that Helaena infuriates her almost as much as her brothers do sometimes. Bloody Targaryens.

A week later, her out of office is on and her bags are packed.

Helaena takes her bags, depositing them into an entryway closet to deal with later, the moment she steps through the door of the house, ushering her into the kitchen.

“Want to chop some stuff for me?” She asks. “I’m going to make a jug of Pimm’s for us all to drink by the pool.”

“Us all?” She asks, moving towards the chopping board on the kitchen side, where an assortment of strawberries, mint and cucumber has been set out, ready to be cut up.

“Yeah,” Helaena says, opening a cupboard and rummaging inside of it. “Me, you…Aemond, and Aegon…Aegon’s friend…”

Helaena’s voice tapers off as she pulls a glass jug from a shelf, her gaze turning towards the kitchen doorway.

She looks up from where she has been quartering a strawberry, her grip around the knife handle tightening subconsciously as she takes in the sight of Aegon standing there. But it’s not Aegon that is the issue, it’s the pretty brunette that’s standing next to him.

“Just wondering what’s taking so bloody long with the Pimm’s?” He asks, glancing between her and Helaena. “Are you fermenting the gin from scratch?”

“Hel was waiting for me to arrive,” she offers as a meek explanation, feeling her skin grow warm as he looks at her. “Hi, by the way.”

He fires off a mock salute at her, the casual gesture making her insides wither with disappointment. She was a fool to have expected anything more.

“I’m Cassandra,” the girl standing next to him pipes up with a cheerful smile, “nice to meet you.”

Aegon startles, as if suddenly realising she’s there, turning to look at Cassandra quickly before facing back towards her and Helaena.

“Oh yeah, Cass is gonna be staying for the week. Her brother’s brewery is supplying us with the kegs for Saturday.”

Cassandra nods enthusiastically, her eyes bright. “Royce owns Storm’s End brewery, he’s gonna sort us out with the beer for the party.”

“Lovely,” she says with a tight smile, lowering her eyes back to the chopping board and slicing into a cucumber with more aggression than is necessary.

“Why don’t you go and get comfy by the pool, Cass,” Aegon says, ushering her away with a smack on the bottom. “I’ll make sure these two hurry the fuck up with the drinks.”

Helaena’s eyes narrow once Cassandra is out of earshot, looking at Aegon as she empties a full bottle of Pimm’s into the glass jug. “You’re sleeping with one of the Baratheon sisters to get free beer? That’s low even for you.”

Aegon shrugs with a smirk. “I’m not above schmoozing for booze, Hel.”

“You’re a pig,” she retorts softly, moving to the fridge and pulling out a bottle of lemonade. “What about what happened with Floris and Aemond?”

Aegon snorts derisively, leaning against the doorframe. “They only kissed.”

“And then she stalked him afterwards…”

“The week of a thousand texts!”

“Fifty seven to be precise. You remember, right?” She asks, turning to her friend for back up.

“Yeah, didn’t Aemond ghost her because she used the incorrect version of ‘your’ in a message?”

Helaena nods. “Yes, that was mean, and she didn’t deserve that. But sending someone so many texts when they clearly aren’t going to reply is a bit…” She wrinkles her nose. “...overbearing.”

“And she left him a five minute long voicemail,” Aegon titters.

“Yeah, you’re a pig,” Helaena insists, sloshing lemonade into the Pimm’s.

“Oh well. Hurry up!” Aegon demands with a clap of his hands, before walking away.

She hands Helaena the chopping board, now laden with chopped up garnishes and watches as she scrapes it into the jug, before stirring it.

Looking up, Helaena takes in the pained expression of her friend, her face softening. “Trust me, as Aegon’s sister, he’s not worth it.”

“I’m fine,” she quips unconvincingly, moving away to fetch glasses from another cupboard. “He’s just messing around.”

“I just think if you’re looking for someone who genuinely cares about you, then you’re looking in the wrong place.”

“What does that mean?” She asks, taking down five glass tumblers from the shelf.

“Just…don’t close yourself off to other possibilities.”

Helaena takes the jug and heads outside to the pool, before she has a chance to respond.

Always so cryptic. It’s infuriating.

To her horror, as she heads out into the garden, glasses gripped between her fingers, Helaena has set herself up on the sun lounger on the furthest end, leaving the only one free between her and Aemond.

She sets the glasses down on the patio table, next to the Pimm’s jug and takes a moment to steel herself, before heading over. Wordlessly, she lays down on the sun lounger, trying to suppress the unease that ripples beneath her skin at the imposing figure of Aemond next to her. His sun lounger has its back propped up, and he sits bolt upright, long silver hair pulled up into a bun and a pair of black Ray Bans perched upon the bridge of his aquiline nose as he reads a philosophy book.

Pretentious twat.

“Aemond, pour us all some Pimm’s,” Helaena says lazily, leaning back on her lounger and propping an arm above her head.

His brow furrows momentarily before he responds. “Why do I have to do it?”

“Because you haven’t done anything to help out with our gathering yet.”

“It’s your gathering,” he retorts, “I just happen to live here. I’m not an active participant.”

She sighs, not wanting to listen to any more of their bickering. “It’s fine, I’ll do it.”

“No, I will,” Aemond snaps, standing abruptly and setting his book down, before storming over to the table.

“Christ, what a prick,” she mutters to herself as she watches him go.

An hour later, she has changed into her bikini, and is laying on her front on her sun lounger, the remnants of her glass of Pimm’s turning warm in the sunshine beside it, as she loses herself in a historical fiction novel.

She can feel the heat prickling at her skin, and knows she ought to have put suncream on before coming back outside, she’ll burn if she continues to lay there. Sighing, she places her book on the patio next to her glass and sits up, reaching for the bottle which lays discarded beneath where Helaena is currently laying, dozing beneath her makeshift blanket of a beach towel.

She applies the lotion generously to her face, arms, legs and the exposed parts of her torso, stopping when she realises she is unable to reach her back. Looking over at Helaena, she can see she is still fast asleep, lulled into unconsciousness by warmth and alcohol.

Aegon and Cassandra sit by the edge of the pool with their feet submerged, talking and laughing as they drink what’s left of the Pimm’s directly from the jug, passing it back and forth. She would honestly rather die than go over there and risk the embarrassment of asking either one of them to help her.

Grunting with the strain of stretching her arms as far behind her as they’ll go, she attempts to spread sun cream on the rapidly reddening flesh of her shoulder blades.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Aemond sighs exasperatedly, slamming his book closed. “Give it here!”

“What?” She freezes, embarrassment enveloping her like a shroud.

“Insulting as it is that you would rather attempt to wrench your arms free of their sockets than ask me for help, I can’t help but find your pathetic little display highly distracting. Give me the sun scream, I’ll do it for you.”

She is stunned into silence by the offer, her stomach erupting into nervous flutters at the idea of someone who hates her so much actually offering to help her, and with something so intimate too. She passes him the bottle, praying he doesn’t notice the way her hand trembles, doing her best to avoid the piercing gaze of his singular seeing eye.

“Turn around then,” he commands, after a few moments of silence.

“Oh…right, of course….yeah!”

A fresh wave of humiliation washes over her, and she finds herself grateful for the opportunity to face away from him as she repositions, glad that she doesn’t have to see the hands of her best friend’s petulant younger brother moving over her body.

Her breath hitches when his fingers make first contact with her skin, though she does her best to suppress the accompanying squeak of surprise that had wanted to accompany it. His touch is gentler than she had anticipated, soft and careful as he works to spread the cream evenly across her back and shoulders. She feels herself relax, nervous tension evaporating as she focuses on the press of his fingertips against her flesh.

“How is life at the library treating you?” He asks casually, as he applies more cream to his fingers, spreading it across the lower part of her back.

“How do you know I work at the library?” She asks, surprised by his knowledge of her job.

“Your best friend is my older sister,” he says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, though what he says next is expressed with hesitant shyness. “...and I walk past it sometimes…see you in there…”

“Ah,” is all she’s able to reply, shocked but also annoyed with herself. This is the most Aemond has ever spoken to her, and she’s so rattled by it she can’t reciprocate the effort within the conversation he’s trying to strike up.

When she hears the cap on the sun cream bottle click closed, she finally seizes the opportunity to speak. “I was sorry to hear about you and Alys,” she says softly, “you guys were cute together.”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” he tells her cooly, tossing the bottle onto the towel next to her before standing up and walking back inside.

She watches him go over her shoulder, silently cursing herself for her thoughtlessness in bringing up such a sensitive topic.

Aemond avoids her for the rest of the day, and much of the next, until the following evening when Aegon and Helaena decide that a barbecue is a good idea.

The sky is a muted blue, the final vestige of daytime clinging to it, delaying the inevitable setting of the sun, as the air hangs thick with humidity, exacerbated from the smoke that billows upwards from the barbecue.

“Is there room for my veggie sausages?” Helaena asks, peering over Aegon’s shoulder as he stands at the sizzling grill, a bottle of beer in one hand and tongs in the other, turning pieces of chicken.

“Yeah, in the bin,” he replies smugly, before swigging from his beer bottle.

She can’t help but giggle quietly at the remark as she stirs dressing into the bowl of salad that rests upon the patio table.

Helaena tuts, holding out the packet towards her older brother. “Don’t be selfish!”

“Ugh, fine,” Aegon scoffs with a roll of his eyes, setting his bottle down and snatching the packet from her.

She watches as he moves the meat on the grill to one side, before unceremoniously dumping out the sausages into the empty space. She huffs a laugh, shaking her head at his immaturity.

Placing the salad bowl in the centre of the table, she’s about to reach for a packet of bread rolls to open, when Cassandra breezes out into the garden, laden with plates and cutlery.

“Why do you have six of everything?” Helaena asks suspiciously, fiddling with the corkscrew in the top of a bottle of wine. “There are only five of us.”

Cassandra gives a dismissive shrug. “Must have been miscounted,” she says, before joining Aegon at the barbecue, fussing at him for overcooking everything.

By the time they all sit around the table, a stony faced Aemond now having joined them, she is impressed by the spread that they have managed to pull together. Chicken, burgers and kebabs sit piled on a platter, though slightly burned. Salad, cold pasta, bread and dips accompany it all, and Helaena has ensured everyone has a glass of chilled Sauvignon Blanc.

The sky has begun to darken, a purple aura surrounding the burned orange glow that hangs low on the horizon, a pretty contrast to the fairy lights that are strung along the fence and overhead of where they sit.

She is trading the salad bowl for the plate of rolls with Helaena when Cassandra glances at her phone, so she barely notices when she excuses herself from the table with a flippant “be right back!”

A few moments later, she almost chokes on her wine, setting her glass down heavily upon the table and pressing her palm to her chest as she swallows forcefully.

Cassandra has reappeared in the garden, this time with her sister, Floris, at her side.

“Oh god,” Helaena mutters under her breath, setting down her knife and fork.

Considering the way Aegon’s eyes visibly widen, it’s clear he doesn’t know that Cassandra had planned this.

Aemond sits with his back facing the patio door, so is the last to turn to look.

“Room for one more?” Floris asks with a bright smile.

Aemond whips back around in his seat, fury reflected in his right eye as he glares at Aegon, his voice dripping with venom. “Absolutely not.”

Aegon holds up his hands defensively, shoulders pulling up towards his ears. “I didn’t know!”

Ignoring the obvious tension in the air, Cassandra returns to her place next to Aegon, while Floris plops down into the empty seat between her and Aemond. She is sure she sees him physically recoil from her.

“Cassandra told me all about you and Alys,” Floris coos softly, placing her hand over the top of Aemond’s, “I thought perhaps you’d need a friend.”

“You’re not my friend,” Aemond glowers, snatching his hand back.

“Yeah, he doesn’t have any,” Aegon laughs, draping his arm around the back of Cassandra’s chair.

“Stop it,” Helaena hisses at him.

“You know, I think you’re being kind of rude,” Floris says to Aemond, “I’m just trying to be nice.”

“You know what I think is rude?” He spits back. “Not being able to take a fucking hint, turning up to someone’s house uninvited. That is rude.”

“I invited her,” Cassandra cuts in, though she shrinks back the moment that Aemond directs his angry gaze towards her.

“And who the fuck are you?! A vapid little nobody that my brother has decided is his flavour of the week.”

“Are you going to let him speak to me like that?!” Cassandra demands, looking expectantly at Aegon.

Aegon cringes outwardly, pulling his arm back from Cassandra’s chair. “This doesn’t really involve me, to be honest,” he tells her awkwardly.

“God, you’re pathetic!” She seethes, standing abruptly, causing the legs of her chair to scrape loudly against the patio. “Come on, Floris, we’re leaving.”

Floris stands, scowling down at Aemond as she does so. “You know, for someone who has—” she gestures towards his face, pointing specifically at his prosthetic eye, “you’d think you’d be more grateful for the attention.”

She flounces off alongside her sister, leaving the four of them in stunned silence. Helaena looks as though she wants to burst into tears, Aegon stares blankly across the table, fingers spinning his wine glass around by its stem, while Aemond quietly seethes with rage.

“Well, that was awkward,” Aegon finally says, reaching for more chicken.

The slamming of Aemond’s fist upon the table causes them all to startle, the force of it rattling the plates and glasses. They all look at him, wide eyed, as he stands up silently and walks back into the house.

She feels awful for the way Floris had spoken to him, and is desperate to make up for her earlier blunder, after fumbling their conversation so horribly. She can’t stand the thought of him being alone and upset, when both of his siblings are clearly in no position to offer comfort.

“I’ll go after him,” she says softly, rising from her seat and walking back into the house.

She finds Aemond in the foyer, about to head upstairs.

“Wait,” she calls out, “I just wanted to see if you’re okay?”

“Never better,” he says sullenly, though he pauses and turns to face her.

“What Floris said was really uncalled for. Please don’t listen to her,” she tells him sympathetically, her eyes pleading as she looks up at him.

“I said I’m fine,” he insists, refusing to look her in the eye.

“You don’t have to pretend, it’s okay not to–”

“What are you, a fucking therapist?!” He rages, causing her to shrink back.

“No, I was just trying to make you feel better,” she whispers meekly.

“Well, don’t,” he snaps back, “I don’t need your faux sympathy or your positivity buzzword bullshit.”

Her brow furrows as she feels annoyance prickle at her. None of this is her fault, she’s just trying to offer support, yet despite that he is lashing out at her anyway. Her mouth opens, the words leaving it before she has the chance to consider them. “You are such a miserable fucking twat, no wonder Alys finished with you!”

She regrets what she said the moment she sees the fury blaze within his right eye. Instinctively, she steps away, her back hitting the wall as he advances towards her. And then his lips are crushing against hers, causing her to squeak in surprise as he kisses her hungrily, his large hand cupping her jaw. She grips the front of his shirt, his fists balling into the material, unsure of if she wants to pull him closer or push him away. But she finds herself responding, her mouth moving against his, lips parting to allow his tongue entrance, letting it lick against hers.

Nervousness and excitement swirl like a maelstrom in her belly. She could never have anticipated this. What the hell are they doing? Aemond hates her, doesn’t he?

When they finally part for air, their breathing is ragged. Aemond stares down at her, lips parted and pupil dilated. “Do you want to come upstairs?” He asks lowly.

The question makes her heart feel as though it has stopped beating. It’s one thing to kiss Helaena’s younger brother, but another entirely to entertain the idea of sleeping with him.

She falters, trying her best to speak coherently. “I…um…I don’t know if that’s a good idea…”

Aemond pulls back, his face hardening back to blank stoicism in an instant. She immediately feels the loss of him, the space that his warmth had previously occupied suddenly feeling chilly.

“Of course,” he mutters darkly, “I would hate to cut into the time you spend following my brother around like a pathetic dog.”

The statement makes her feel as though she has had a bucket of ice water thrown over her, hurt and humiliation spreading hotly throughout her body, as tears sting at the rims of her eyes. He disappears up the stairs before she can say anything in response, leaving her alone in the foyer to compose herself, wondering what on earth just happened.

She scrubs her hands over her face, drawing in a few steadying breaths, before turning to head back outside. Helaena is already in the kitchen, wrapping plates of food in cling film. She looks up when she sees her, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Need any help?” She asks.

“No, I’m all good. There’ll be leftovers in the fridge, if you want any.”

She utters a quiet thanks, before stepping outside, her eyes immediately drawn to Aegon who sits at the edge of the pool, paddling his feet, illuminated by only the pool lamps and soft fairy lights that are strung up around the garden. The sky hangs velvety black above them, stars twinkling in the distance.

Kicking off her flip flops, she sits beside him, dunking her own feet into the coolness of the water.

“Cassandra seemed pretty angry with you,” she says gently.

“Yeah,” Aegon replies, keeping his eyes fixed on the beer bottle he has clasped in both hands. “She’ll be back though.”

“You seem certain of that.”

“Well, I am irresistible,” he says, looking up at her with a grin. “And she’s left all her stuff here…”

She chuckles softly, facing forward again, a thousand things rushing through her mind that she wants to say to Aegon. Tonight couldn’t possibly get any messier, so why not speak her mind?

“Aegon…” she begins, unable to look at him, knowing the moment she does, all of her thoughts will unravel. “I think you know how I feel about you, why have we never…why won’t you…”

She sighs in frustration, unable to finish her train of thought, unsure of what it is she even wants to say. She dares to cast him a sideways glance and sees him anxiously chewing his lip, his thumbs picking at the label on the neck of the bottle.

“It’s not like I haven’t thought about it,” he finally admits, “you��re gorgeous. But you and I are never going to happen.”

She braces herself for the impact of the inevitable pain in her chest, but it never comes. Instead, she feels lighter. The final piece of closure she needs, permission to move on from the “what if” that has haunted her teenage years and entire adult life so far. Yet she cannot help her curiosity at his response.

“Why not?” She asks, turning to look at him.

He lifts his head, meeting her eye. “I said I wouldn’t, I made a promise.”

“To who?” She asks, brow furrowing in confusion.

“Aegon! You need to help me load the dishwasher,” Helaena calls out from behind them.

Aegon sighs, moving to stand, muttering “Christ, her last slave must have died of exhaustion” to himself as he walks away, leaving wet footprints on the patio behind him.

She is frustrated that Helaena interrupted them before Aegon could answer her, her curiosity piqued almost unbearably. As Aegon approaches Helaena, she hears her chastising him in a hushed tone, Aegon’s own defensive retort is also much quieter than his usual manner of speaking. She wonders what they’re arguing about, but quickly dismisses it. There has been enough conflict for one day.

Her thoughts drift back to Aemond and the kiss they had shared. She can still feel his lips lingering against hers if she focuses hard enough upon it. It had felt nice, she had kissed the man who hated her and actually enjoyed it. Then straight afterwards he had reminded her why she usually works so hard to avoid him. It was a fluke, not worth making a big deal of. She certainly wouldn’t be telling Helaena about it.

The following afternoon, her and Helaena laze around on beach towels that are laid upon the perfectly manicured lawn of the back garden, enjoying the warmth of the midday sun upon their skin.

As Aegon had predicted, Cassandra had shown back up at the house that morning, and their enthusiastic reconciliation had been what had prompted her and Helaena’s decision to relocate to the garden. Aemond hasn’t bothered to come back downstairs since insulting her the previous evening.

Helaena lays on her front, legs bent at the knee and ankles crossed. She plucks a foil packet from beneath her towel and tears it open, pulling out a blue and green gummy worm. She dangles it towards her, the hint of a smile upon her lips.

“Want to go halves?” She asks.

“On a sweet?!”

“An edible!”

“Oh Christ…no!”

“Suit yourself,” Helaena says with an easy shrug, stretching the worm between her teeth as she bites off the end.

“Think I need to keep a clear head, especially after last night.”

“Mmm,” Helaena concurs, chewing and swallowing her mouthful of gummy. “I saw you talking to Aegon. Please tell me you aren’t still pining after him?”

“No, actually,” she says honestly, “I think last night was the closure I finally needed.”

“Good,” Helaena says, eyeing her carefully. “So what’s really bothering you?”

She sighs, knowing there’s no point denying it. Helaena is too intuitive for that.

“I…um…Aemond and I…we kissed…”

Nervously, she looks over at her friend, awaiting her angry reaction. However, instead of the scowl she’d expected, Helaena is smiling.

“And…?” She asks excitedly.

Why is she not more surprised by this? Shouldn’t she be annoyed?

“And nothing. I insulted him, he kissed me out of anger, then he insulted me when I wouldn’t sleep with him. He’s been sulking in his room ever since.”

“Go and make him apologise,” Helaena urges her.

“Why should I? He owes me an apology, he should come to me.”

“That’s not Aemond’s style. You’re both as stubborn as each other. Just go up to his room!”

“Why are you so eager for me to make up with him?”

“Because…” Helaena trails off, and for a moment she thinks she’s lost her train of thought, until she holds up the rest of the gummy worm with a smile. “Because I want to finish this and you’re harshing my buzz!”

Charming.

She has a point though, she supposes. She has made amends with one brother this week, it wouldn’t hurt to repair things with the other too.

“Fine, fine, I’m going,” she says with a sigh, standing up and brushing herself off.

As she ascends the stairs towards the upper level of the house, it’s quiet, save for the soft sounds of music and Cassandra’s giggles coming through Aegon’s closed bedroom door. She pauses as she reaches Aemond’s room, her heart hammering in her chest, and nausea swirling in her gut as she stands outside, desperately trying to steel herself to knock.

What would she say? Would he even want to speak to her?

She takes a deep breath, attempting to push through the anxiety and knocks softly. She hears shuffling from the other side, before the door pulls slowly open. Aemond’s long silver hair is loose, and he’s dressed in a plain black t-shirt and black jogging bottoms. He looks effortlessly flawless, despite how casually he’s dressed.

Has he always looked this good? How had she never noticed before?

He bows his head slightly when he sees it’s her, a flicker of sadness briefly visible in his eye before he casts his gaze downward.

“Can I come in?” She asks softly.

He nods, stepping back to allow her in, closing the door behind her.

She’s never been in Aemond’s room before. It’s flooded by natural light from the large bay windows, and everything is immaculately neat and tidy, from the orderly shelves of books, to how taut his bedsheets are pulled against the mattress. Everything has its place.

“I owe you an apology,” she begins, turning to face him.

His eyebrows raise, eye widening in surprise. “Me?”

She nods. “I should never have pried into your personal life, what happened between you and Alys is your business and I had no right to ask about it or pass comment on it. I’d really like it if we could just forget what happened yesterday and start again.”

“What if I don’t want to forget about it?” He asks, stepping closer.

Her heart sinks, disappointment making her shoulders sag. “You don’t?”

He shakes his head, looming over her, his breath ghosting against her skin as he speaks. “There’s a particular moment that I’m very keen to remember.”

Her skin grows warm, her breath hitching as he reaches up, his fingertips ghosting against the side of her neck. “Or are you still chasing after my brother like a pathetic little bitch?”

This time his words don’t offend, instead they send a shiver up her spine, her mouth going dry as his eye bores into hers.

“N–no,” she stammers, her pulse racing as his hand rests against her neck, his stare dark and intense. “I don’t like him like that anymore. I think I’d known that for a while, but him telling me it was never going to happen helped me to realise that.”

“Mmmm,” Aemond hums softly, leaning in, “I’m glad that Aegon is a man of his word.”

His lips ghost against hers, but she freezes as his words echo in her mind alongside his brother’s.

I’m glad that Aegon is a man of his word.

I said I wouldn’t, I made a promise.

She pulls back sharply, brow furrowed as she stares at Aemond suspiciously. “Was it you that Aegon made a promise to, to never try anything with me?”

Aemond nods, reaching for her again, sighing as she steps away. “It was years ago. I made him promise me he’d leave you alone, because well…I like you, and he’s not good enough for you.”

Her mouth falls open in disbelief, her voice a tight sounding whisper as she struggles to keep her emotions in check. “You had no right to do that…”

“I was protecting you,” he says softly, “he wouldn’t have been good to you.”

“And you would have?!” She responds, voice wavering around the rapidly forming lump in her throat. “You’ve spent years ignoring me, only interacting to be hateful. How the fuck is that protecting me?!”

“You don’t understand—”

“No, you don’t understand!” She cries, her chest tightening as hot tears roll down her cheeks. “If you liked me you should’ve said something, what you’ve done instead is manipulative and cruel.”

She pushes past Aemond, slamming his bedroom door behind him, before heading to Helaena’s room where she’s been staying since she arrived. Curling up on her side of the bed, her shoulders shake as she sobs quietly into the pillow, a hot swirl of anger, sadness and betrayal coursing through her body.

How dare he? How fucking dare he? What might’ve been if she’d just been given a chance with Aegon? What might’ve been if Aemond had voiced his feelings for her sooner? He had robbed her of the opportunity to find out any of it.

When the door eventually creaks open, she is unsure of how many hours she has been laying there. She has cried herself out, a hollow feeling having settled in her chest, numbness replacing the hurt and anger she’d felt previously.

“Hey,” Helaena says softly, the mattress dipping slightly as she sits upon the edge of it. “Brought you a sandwich, cheese and Marmite.”

“What time is it?” She asks groggily, pulling herself into a sitting position, as she gratefully accepts the plate from her.

“Just gone six. Figured there’s no point in us all doing dinner together tonight…”

“Sorry,” she whispers sadly, “I’ve fucked this whole week up.”

“You haven’t,” Helaena says earnestly, “none of this is your fault. Aemond has just chosen the worst possible way to tell you he has feelings for you.”

“You know?!” She asks, the warmth of embarrassment heating the apples of her cheeks.

“Please don’t be upset. Aemond’s always had a thing for you, I’ve always known. For what it’s worth, I think you guys would be great together.”

“Great together?! No offense, Hel, but your brother’s a tool.”

“He can be, yeah. But you’re more alike than you think. You just need to see beneath the tough guy exterior.”

She shakes her head. “Until this week he’s either ignored me or been awful to me.”

“Aemond isn’t the best at expressing how he feels, but he’s trying. I’ve gotten tired of watching him pine for you for so long, and make himself miserable never doing anything about it. I told him that if he didn’t say anything this week then I’d tell you myself.”

Her eyes widen, the confession taking her breath away. “Hel…”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be meddling, and I know Aemond shouldn’t have interfered with Aegon. But honestly, you can do so much better.”

“And you think Aemond is better?”

“He could be, if you gave him the chance.”

“All we do is argue.”

“Because you’re so alike! You just need to listen to each other.”

She chews her lip, mulling over Helaena’s words. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to hear him out. But not tonight. Tonight my only interests are this sandwich and whatever crap we can find on Netflix.”

“Sounds good to me,” Helaena replies happily.

They spend the rest of the evening curled up in Helaena’s bed, watching a nature documentary that they eventually fall asleep in front of.

It’s early when she awakens. She can’t see the time, but can tell from the pastel hue of the lightened sky visible through the window, where she and Helaena had fallen asleep without closing the curtains, that sunrise wasn’t long ago.

Eager to stretch her limbs, having been cooped up in the same room for more than twelve hours, she disentangles herself from her still sleeping friend, and pads downstairs.

The aroma of brewing coffee lures her towards the kitchen, but she stops in her tracks when she spots Aemond, his back to her as he stands in front of the coffee maker. For a moment she considers just going back upstairs, until he turns and sees her.

Wordlessly, they stare at each other, time feeling as though it stretches on for an eternity, before finally he speaks.

“Coffee?”

“Um…sure.”

He nods, turning to grab the espresso cup from the drip tray before sliding it across the kitchen island to her. “Take this one.”

She utters a quiet thanks, perching on a bar stool as she wraps her hands around the warmth of the small ceramic vessel. The only sounds in the kitchen are that of Aemond preparing another coffee for himself. She’s grateful they both have something other than each other to focus on, as truthfully she doesn’t know what to say.

“Valar morghulis was how they said it in Valyria of old. All men must die. And the Doom came and proved it true,” he recites as he turns back to her, placing his own coffee upon the counter.

“What?” Her brows pull together in confusion as she looks up at him from her cup.

“You wrote that in the history essay that you shared with me back when we were at school. That particular line has always stuck with me. I thought it was inspired.”

Her heart feels as though it skips a beat, realising he has remembered such a small detail, but it is contradictory to the reality of his reaction to it. “You said it was derivative.”

“That was unkind. I regret it,” he tells her sincerely. “Truthfully, it was brilliant. I’ve never read anything like it.”

“Why were you so rude about it then?”

“An attempt to push you away, I suppose.”

“Why?”

He sighs, taking a long sip of his coffee, looking pensive as he casts his eye away from her, choosing his words carefully. “You’re too good for Aegon, he has spent his entire life failing upwards, being given things he hasn’t earned, taking what I work hard for. I couldn’t let him take you too. But you’re also too good for me. I already thought you were perfect, and was trying so hard to keep you at arm’s length. I think I fell harder for you after reading your essay, and that scared me. You deserve better than me, but I can’t seem to let you go. I lost interest in Floris because she wasn’t as intelligent as you are, and Alys ended things with me because she could tell how hung up on you I am.”

She groans exasperatedly. “Am I seriously the last person to know that you have feelings for me?”

“I’m sorry. I’ve spent a long time hiding it, but now my cards are fully on the table. I’m being as honest as I can be. I didn’t intend for you to ever find out. I wanted to get over you. I didn’t think that you’d be interested.”

“Did it never occur to you to ask?”

“I’m asking now.”

“I…I’ve never thought about you that way, to be honest, not until you kissed me…”

“...and then?”

“I think I could…”

“So is that a yes?”

“You’ve not actually asked me anything…”

He rolls his eye. “I’m pouring my heart out here. Meet me halfway.”

She huffs a soft laugh. “I think we should take things slowly. Let me get to know the Aemond that’s not a massive arsehole. Can you handle that?”

“I can handle that.”

The air feels lighter somehow as they both sip their coffee, a peacefulness having settled over the two of them, rooted in mutual hope and excitement.

Over the next couple of days, her and Aemond spend more time together. He makes more of a conscious effort to include himself when she and Helaena hang out in communal spaces. They stay up all night talking, and when they’re alone together he intertwines his fingers with hers, asking her to read to him as he rests his head in her lap. They never go further than a few soft kisses, but she finds herself falling asleep cuddled up to him each night, instead of in Helaena’s bed.

It’s disconcerting to peer behind the iron facade of Aemond Targaryen, this softer, kinder, gentle hearted side is one she’s never seen before. Yet the more she gets to know it, the more she grows to like it. It’s something deeper, more intimate than anything she had ever felt for Aegon, and she realises this is because it surpasses mere infatuation, and her feelings are reciprocated.

It’s Saturday evening, and Aegon’s party is close to becoming out of control. The heavy bass of the music reverberates throughout the house, and Royce has provided more kegs than everyone in attendance combined could ever be able to drink in a single night. Every downstairs room, as well as the garden, bustles with people – most of whom she doesn’t know.

Despite this, she is having fun. Her, Helaena and Aemond have kept within their own little bubble, talking and laughing as they pass wine between them, slugging it directly from the bottle. The more she and Aemond drink, the closer they shift towards one another on the sofa, until eventually one of her legs ends up slung over the top of his.

Her mind feels fuzzy from the effects of the alcohol, spreading a warmth throughout her body. She feels happy, she can’t remember the last time she felt this content.

As the evening presses on, Aegon stumbles over to them, a few of his friends trailing after him. She can tell from his glassy eyed expression that he’s drunk. He sways slightly on his feet as he stands in front of them all, taking in the sight of her and Aemond sitting close together.

“There they are!” He slurs. “The happy couple!”

“Has your little brother got himself a girlfriend, Aegon?” His friend pipes up from behind him.

“My cast off, actually,” he says, gesturing towards her with his glass, slopping beer onto the living room floor as he does so.

“Watch yourself,” Aemond says darkly. She feels him tense beneath her, rapidly growing angry.

“Shouldn’t you be thanking me, Aemond?” He asks, cocking his head. “I let you have her! So, come on, the least you can do is let us know what she’s like in the sack!”

“Shut your fucking mouth,” Aemond hisses through gritted teeth.

“Stop it, both of you,” Helaena says pleadingly.

She grasps Aemond’s hand, a vain attempt to calm him, as Aegon laughs hysterically with his friends.

“You’ve not fucked her yet, have you?! Will she not put out? Still holding out hope for me?!”

She squeaks in surprise as Aemond stands abruptly, towering over Aegon as he squares up to him. “I said, shut. Your. Fucking. Mouth.”

“Why?” Aegon asks with a careless shrug. “Truth hurt, does it? Because let’s face it, she couldn’t be with me, so she settled for you. Second best.”

With an angry snarl, Aemond shoves Aegon, sending him toppling backwards into his friends, stunning the room into silence as he storms from it.

Her blood runs cold, her heart drumming wildly against her ribcage as she exchanges a horrified glance with Helaena, before hurrying after Aemond, who is already retreating up the stairs two at a time.

He is pacing his room, his breathing ragged as she follows him in, shutting the door and muffling the sound of the party below them.

“Ignore your twat of a brother,” she says soothingly, “he’s drunk, he doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

Aemond shakes his head, and the look of hurt she sees reflected in his eye as he looks at her makes her heart squeeze painfully. “He’s right. You’re only with me because you couldn’t have Aegon.”

“He’s wrong.” She steps towards him, taking his hands in hers, “I couldn’t be happier with the way things have turned out. What I feel for you…it’s real. You’ve made me happier in two days than Aegon ever has in ten years.”

“Do you really mean that?” He whispers.

He looks so vulnerable, so sad as he looks down at her that it makes her want to cry.

“Every word,” she utters, leaning up on tiptoes to kiss him softly, her fingers caressing his cheek. “You’re so good, Aemond, so good to me.”

He rests his forehead against hers, wrapping his arms around her waist as he pulls her close, his eye fluttering closed. “I want to believe that.”

“I’ll make you,” she whispers, tugging him by the front of his shirt as she steps back towards the bed.

They topple onto the bedspread, laying on their sides, facing each other. Her grip on his shirt tightens as she kisses him again, deeper this time, her tongue lapping delicately against his, taking her time with it, allowing him to feel every movement of her lips against his.

When she pulls away, she trails her lips over the sharpness of his jaw and down the column of his throat, her fingers working deftly to open his buttons as she does so, caressing every inch of his bare torso as it’s revealed to her.

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispers against his neck, feeling him shiver against her, his rapidly growing hardness pressing against her thigh through his jeans.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, as her hands move to his belt buckle, pulling it open.

“I want you,” she whispers, “more than I’ve ever wanted anyone.”

He groans, fingers digging into the flesh of her hip, screwing his eye shut as she moves her hand beneath the waistband of his underwear.

Her core throbs with arousal as she strokes the velvety soft flesh of his hardened cock, eagerly wrapping her fingers around it, pumping softly, earning a sharp hiss of pleasure from him.

She pushes his underwear down far enough to free his erection, before hooking a leg over his hip and tugging the thong beneath her dress to one side.

“Feel what you do to me,” she says huskily, dragging the head of him through the stickiness that has gathered between her thighs.

Aemond inhales sharply, hips jerking at the sensation, and she smiles at the effect she’s having on him, his breaths coming fast and shallow.

“I want you inside me,” she coos, “will you let me?”

He swallows thickly, pupil dilated with desire as he nods enthusiastically. “Fuck…yes…”

She positions him at her entrance, angling her hips to encourage him to press forward. All of the air feels as though it is forced from her lungs as he pushes into her, the stretch of her body around him is exquisite torture.

“Mmmm…so big,” she murmurs, stroking his hair, feeling him smile in response against the skin of her shoulder. She can tell from the way he’s tensing that he’s holding his breath, every part of him sinking inside of her as intense for him as it is for her.

Once he is fully sheathed inside, she winds her arms around his neck. His grip on her hip is iron clad as he uses his other hand to pull down the straps of her dress and her bra, pressing his face into her breasts as they slowly begin to rock their hips together.

Their pace is unhurried, less about the act itself and more about providing closeness and comfort to each other, and she knows that Aemond is in desperate need of both right now.

His thrusts are shallow as she rolls her hips in time with his, her fingers stroking softly through the silken strands of his hair as he nuzzles into her chest, sighing softly against her flesh with every praise and word of affirmation that she utters softly to him.

She doesn’t care if he brings her to release, she wants tonight to be about Aemond, to make him feel special. When he eventually comes undone, spilling himself inside of her as he pulsates and trembles, her heart flutters as he stares at her, eye filled with nothing but adoration.

Summer has always been her favourite time of year, and thanks to Aemond she’s certain it always will be.

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cherryheairt · 2 months ago

Text

Dragon Dreamer pt. XIV

chapter fourteen

tags: @hueanhdang @beebeechaos @emery-aka-emmy @r-3dlips @watermel0nsugarhigh @delaynew @purple-1995 @littleblackcatinwonderland @fall-winter-heart97 @mandeepandee1997 @pedro-pascal-love @thelastemzy @reyndaisy @saintkittykat @theadharablack @thatkindofgurl @alexandra-001 @itsaslaminak @iv7867

After being 'haunted', as Cregan might have called it, Daenys was throughly disoriented throughout the rest of the night. Taken back to her chambers and held in Cregan's protective embrace, she told him of what she saw.

Frowning, he could only offer her words of his Northern wisdom. "Your brother wouldn't blame you for that. Nor the Princess or young Prince." He said, soothing a piece of hair behind her ear.

In the dim light, she looked up at his porcelain features. The white light of the moon made him look statuesque, with only small scars along his face disrupting the smoothness of his skin. The largest being the one across his chin, from the fall he took as a boy. Delicately, she traced over them, then to the faint freckles dotting the apples of his cheeks.

Finally, she nodded. "Mayhaps he would not. That doesn't change the fact that it is true. If I had flown down to Storm's End that night...Aemond wouldn't have killed Lucerys."

Cregan lifted a straight brow, "how could you know that? He might have simply taken you both, to spite the Queen by taking two of her children."

She shook her head, "I don't believe he killed Luke to spite my mother. He must have known Luke would be sent to the closest place to find an ally, just as he was. Years ago, when Luke took his eye, he became a completely different person. Because of Vhagar or his eye, I do not know." She sighed.

"Anyone with a dragon is dangerous—intentions be damned."

Daenys smiled shortly, huffing a laugh. "Am I so dangerous to you?"

Cregan matched her smile, running a thumb over her cheek. "Indeed, the fierce dragon of the South, who rides the Lightbringer. A fearsome sight." He paused, "I would hate for you to face Vhagar again. I have only heard tales of her size and ferocity, but I can only imagine given the sight of Caraxes and Morningstar."

Tensely, she nodded. "As big as Harrenhall itself, perhaps. Or Dragonstone, I do not quite know. If I had gone alone, I would not be here now."

"The same goes for the incident at Storm's End. You would have only suffered the same fate as Lucerys." It was a brutally honest thing to say, but perhaps it was what she needed to hear.

Daenys hesitated slightly, "I could have talked to my uncle. It was only the night before that he proposed to join our families in union. If I had offered him something greater than revenge..." She trailed off, looking away from his eyes.

"You're not a bartering object, Daenys. Even if you had offered your hand—you couldn't have wed in this time of war. He knows that. You'd be a prisoner under the Red Keep or dead below the depths of the sea." Cregan sternly told her.

"You asked for my hand in exchange for 4,000 fighting men. Is that not a barter?" She asked in a hushed whisper.

He stilled, shifting away slightly from her as if sobering up. His face changed between various expressions: confusion, guilt, and another she couldn't quite capture. "I am sorry for that." Cregan murmured. "It wasn't my intention to make you feel like an object, something to be coveted and traded. You are the furthest from it. I treasure you in my heart, and I always will." He took both of her hands in his, kissing her wrists in a display of apology.

"It is too late to recind our betrothal. The North does not forget. They would be furious with the Crown if I wed another. But—If you wish it, you can have your choice of lover after we are wed."

She tensed, brows furrowed together angrily. Does he not understand that is not possible for a woman? Men may do so as they please, fuck a million whores and father a hundred bastards with no consequence. She would be the one carrying the heirs to Winterfell, not him. Her mother did the very same thing, taking on a paramore for her marriage with Laenor. Rhaenyra suffered for it then, and has her claim to the throne weakened now because of it. For him to ask that of her, knowing it was impossible, was frustrating.

For him to doubt her loyalty was appalling.

"I would not." She grit out, pulling her wrists away. He was so intent on allowing her freedoms within their future marriage, without acknowleding that there was no freedom to be had in a marriage for her. An offer of peace, he intended, to soothe her fears and worries.

His words only served to complicate her feelings more. Daenys returned the sentiments he had spoken to her back on top of The Wall, some weeks ago.

Daenys forced the tense thought from her head. Cregan wasn't the target of her anger. He never was. Taking it out on him would be cruel.

She started, "I am not regretful of our engagement, Cregan." The honest truth. "I wish it had been in different circumstances, perhaps, but I..."

The hopeful look in his eyes returned, reminding Daenys of a kicked pup. "You...?" He trailed, offering her a start.

She shook her head, unable to find words to place her emotions. She never could, it seemed. Not in the way Cregan so easily could. No grand confessions of love and affection nor comfort could be provided from her. Her heart felt heavy at his downtrodded look as he nodded in acceptance.

Instead, he settled back into the sheets, allowing her space to do so too. Further apart now, the air felt tense with unspoken words and misunderstanding. Daenys wished to balm the wound she had given Cregan so cruelly, but found her throat tight and tongue unmoving.

Cregan, deep in his thoughts, could only think of the first day he had seen the dragon Princess. She had the exact look she wore now, filled with a sense of longing and loneliness.

🗡

Cregan, one and ten at the time, had been ecstatic at the offer his father gave him to visit King's Landing. As any important Lord, it was Rickon's duty to occasionally make appearances in formal events at least every few years. The last visit had been over ten years ago, when Rhaenyra Targaryen was named heir to the Iron Throne by the King Viserys.

The reason for celebration: Rhaenyra Targaryen's eldest daughter's nameday. Daenys Velayron, the young girl who had many rumors attached to her name. Some called her a dragon dreamer, like her ancestor Daenys Targaryen. Others called her mad, or a witch, telling of screams that kept the Red Keep awake for fortnites at a time. Cregan was intrigued by the girl, curious as to what or who she truly was. Perhaps she was like his father, who was able to warg into his companion falcon. Many in the Stark line could, Rickon had told him once, and perhaps more than just their line that they were unaware of. Thinking on it further, his father was never scared or in pain when he warged, so perhaps not.

Now, Rickon decided it was a fine time to head South once more to formally present his oldest son to court. And perhaps, to show the young man the true ways of the Southerners and the snake pit that was the Crownlands. Any Lord needed to know how to navigate such tidings, even if visits were few and far between.

It was months travel on the King's Road, though Cregan didn't mind. He enjoyed the ride on his horse, Red, an eighth nameday gift from his Lord father. He had heartily chuckled when Cregan told him the foal's name, commenting that if his son continued with such a simple name streak, his children might one day be called 'Boy' or 'Girl' to follow suit. Though Cregan blushed, he remained steadfast in his choice of name. To this day, Red remained a reliable steed.

Along the way, they had passed a massive stone structure with ornate pillars in the front.

Welcomed through King's Landing's gates, Cregan was in awe of the differences between the capitol and the Northern keeps. The architecture, the peoples' apparel, the accents. It was all so overwhelming for the young boy, who had never been so far from home.

The heat did not help. Cregan found himself sweating through his tunic, face shining with sweat that he was unused to dealing with besides in the training yard. Winterfell had its moments of warmth, during the peaks of summer moons, though it never got hot enough like King's Landing apparently did.

He had no clue how these citizens faired in such weather their entire lives. He wished for the coolness of a stone floor—or even a damp field of grass. Why couldn't the Princess have been born in winter? It was only spring, yet the sun shined as if it never turned from the Crownlands.

Turning to his father, Cregan asked. "Is that the Red Keep?" In a hushed tone.

Rickon laughed, shaking his head. "That is the Dragonpit. All of the Targaryens' dragons lie there now, in the depths."

Shivering at the thought, despite the warm weather, Cregan was both scared and intrigued at the thought of witnessing a real dragon.

Guided by the steady hand of his father, Cregan was led through crowds to the stairs of the onlooker stands of the arena.

They were able to sit beside many other high Lords and Ladies, none recognizable by Cregan. Rickon shared curtious greetings with a few before sitting by his son. The other side of the stands, past the dirt field that the joust would be held in, was filled with citizens of King's Landing.

Leaning forward on the edge of his seat, he glanced at the royal box. Shaded and decorated by many colorful flowers, servants rushed around before the event started to fill cups and ensure the comfort of the royal family.

He wriggled around in his seat, craning his neck to try and look past the rushing people. Was the Targaryens' hair truly silver, like people said? With eyes as purple as violets? Gasping, he caught a glimpse at a tall woman surrounded by two brown-haired boys fluttering about in front of her. The woman had shiny silver hair, like the tales said, and a flawless, smooth face like a statue.

The boys in front of her must be Jacaerys and Lucerys Velayron, her sons. The only two of the royal family to have brown hair. Rhaenyra Targaryen, he knew now. 'The Realm's Delight' she was named years ago, which Cregan thought did not do her enough justice for her great beauty.

Announcers called for the first joust to commence, great trumpets almost bursting his eardrums from how loud they were. Out, on a silver mare, rode a handsome man with tan skin and pure white hair. Glancing at the royal stand and guaging the cheers, he could attach the name Laenor Velayron to the man. Another one stood beside Rhaenyra, quietly clapping though not cheering like the boys were. Ser Laenor's competitor rode in on the opposite side, though he maid his name and House little mind.

The girl had silver hair and pale skin, an image of her mother. Daenys Velayron. The one who's nameday was being celebrated. She looked embarrassed to be standing and clapping, knowing hundreds if not thousands of eyes were right on her as she did.

The other tales must be true, too, Cregan grimaced. Bastard princes, the realm whispered when the two were born with curly locks of brown hair. Daenys, too, could hardly escape the allegations, looking too much like her mother and not anything like her father. He sympathized with their struggles, knowing how his sister Sara struggled with finding friends and allies in her own home beyond just her family.

Rickon nudged him to pay attention as the joust commenced, telling his son that it was rude to stare. He nodded eagarly, sitting up to watch the joust.

Though Ser Laenor had won, Cregan found himself bored immediately by the event. Throwing men from their horses with sticks, not the most appealing sport to a young boy who grew bored so easily. He slipped off, telling his father that he needed to relieve himself before running down the stairs.

Glancing at the royal box, he found that the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra was missing, though Rhaenyra didn't seem to have a worried expression at all, as if it were normal for the nameday girl to be missing at her own celebration. Shrugging it off, he continued on his way.

He wished to explore the Red Keep while he had the chance. From the arena, the great fabled Red Keep of King's Landing could be spotted. It was close, just a quick walk and he'd be back before his father could be suspicious.

Bumping into something, he immediately stammered out an apology to the offended person. Finding it to be a young lady, perhaps a few years his elder, he flushed in embarrassment. The girl was a picture of beauty, with tan skin and perfect curly black hair framing her brown eyes. She looked at Cregan with an annoyed but uninterested corner-eye glance, turning back to her two friends beside her.

"Oh! Are you okay, Lady Tyrell?" The red-headed one fussed, presumably her lady-in-waiting.

"I'm fine, Lyra." Lady Tyrell sighed before turning to Cregan with a spark in her eye.

He nearly flinched at the intensity, though he recovered quickly. "My apologies, my Lady. I did not mean to run into you like that." He bowed his head slightly in sincere apology. The last thing he intended was to offend a Lady.

Lady Tyrell giggled before covering her mouth quickly to cut herself off. She hummed, nodding along with a widened smile. "Pray tell, my Lord, where are you from? I've never heard such a unique accent." She said demurely, clasping her hands in front of her with her folded fan.

He glanced between them all, unaware of their shared looks. To him, she was the one with an accent. Though, not an unpleasant one. "The North, my Lady." He answered simply.

The blonde one next to the redhead giggled in turn. Whispering to the Tyrell in a not-so-hushed tone. "The Nawrth, my Lady." She repeated in her ear. Lady Tyrell quickly swatted her away, though bit the inside of her cheek to prevent a laugh.

"What's your name?" She asked, keen eyes watching like a hawk.

"Cregan Stark."

"Cruh-gun?" She awkwardly pronounced, looking to her entourage coyly. "I've never heard that. Must be a Northern name." Lady Tyrell pronounced the 'Northern' in her sentence the same way Cregan had previously, earning a sharp giggle from her friends.

He could only watch on, utterly bemused by the interaction. Did he say it wrong? Perhaps she did not hear his name right.

"So, you are a Stark, then? I've always heard they were tall. And pale. Long face, tall nose, and my, are you sick?" She asked, concern dripping in her honey-sweet tone as she leaned close to him and felt his cheeks and forehead with the back of her hand.

Confused, Cregan shook his head. "No? I feel just fine." He slightly leaned back, unused to a stranger in his space so carelessly.

Lady Tyrell tutted, shaking her head like a worn mother. "I think you are. Poor thing, all skin and bone forced to live in a desolate snowstorm like Winterfell. You must be sick, with that color missing from your skin, its all gone to your cheeks. My mother says that is what happens when one is sick." She nodded to herself, sure of her own words.

Cregan hesitated. He felt fine, of course. Perhaps Southern sickness had gotten to him in the days he had stayed in various inns. Were there different illnesses for different lands? True, he was thin and gangly now, growing much faster than other youth his age, but his father assured him that he was the same way as a boy, and he grew to fill out his frame naturally.

"I—Yes, thank you. I must be off now, my father is waiting for me." Flustered, he rushed off on his original path, hearing the unfiltered laughs fill the space behind him. Finally, he made it to the stairs of the Red Keep, surprisingly unguarded as the doors were left open so that servants could easily flit in and out of the courtyard and keep. Trays of food and caskets of wine filled busy hands that passed Cregan, none sparing him an eye as a feast was prepared for after the tourney.

Carefully, he slipped by each of them to not disturb their duties. The ceilings were hung high, Cregan having to turn his neck at an uncomfortable angle just to gawk at them. Pillars rose from floor to roof, and stone carried his feet as he walked to the throne room. The doors were wide open, and the Iron Throne stood menacing at the end of the room. His steps echoed as he strided in, though did not dare get too close. If anyone saw him, he may be accused of trying to sit the throne himself.

Cregan moved on fast, hoping that no one saw him. A long winding hall was his next curious trail, each passing window overlooking a new view. From the height of the castle, he could see crowds of people flocking below, noble and common alike. At the corner of a hall, a room opened up before the turn. Peeking his head in, he found it to be a small nooked library. Perhaps a lounge room, hence the pillows and low tables on the floor. On the windowsil, another cushion sat on a flat and long bar. The Princess, Daenys, sat atop it.

From afar, Cregan could not notice such details that Targaryens held. Now he could, with such a short distance between them. The silver hair was silky, yes, but also held a satisfying curl to it even though most of it was held in intricate braids. Pink pearls lined her braids, matching her pink dress and white lacing across the necklace and wrist cuffs. A soft blush held to her cheeks, perhaps natural or the work of rouge like his mother wore at fine occasions. Pretty, was his first thought. Normal, was his second. Daenys Velayron did not look crazy. She looked like a young girl locked away in a maddening castle. She did not whisper spells or curses towards the bystanders below, nor carry a crazed and vengeful look on her face.

As he was about to take a step forward to announce his presence, and perhaps make a friend of the girl, he stopped himself.

He paused, not taking another step further. She looked peaceful at first glance, but upon further inspection, Cregan found the look in her eyes told a different story. Deep, glossed violet eyes seemed to be longing to be part of the crowd. She hugged her knees to her chest as if she could shrink herself into the cushion. Small hands fiddled with each other, picking at any skin on the edge of her fingertips. He could spot traces of a bright red on some of her fingers, showing that she picked them raw and hardly even noticed. Similar to her posture in the royal box, where she seemed to want to disappear from view the entire time, she looked quite unlike her heiress mother. Though they shared all the right features, the younger was not the picture of confidence and regality as the elder. Many said that the heir had been a fiery and rebellious woman as a youth, only maturing and calming after her marriage to Ser Laenor. It seemed her daughter did not share such a boisterous disposition.

Daenys looked lonely, though he guessed people surrounded her all the time. King's Landing was never without eyes or ears.

Would he sound strange to her? Look sickly pale so she might think he would contaminate her with a foreign illness? Cregan thought long and hard, eventually backing away from the room and leaving the solemn princess in peace. None in the South could be his friend, only his ally.

Cregan went back to his father's side, disappointed at his own hesitance.

Years later, after nearly three years of his Lordship over Winterfell and the North, Daenys came to him in ask of fighting men. He thought her to be just as beautiful as she was upon first sight, only growing from her soft features that childhood gave her into sharper and more refined graces.

The look in her eyes stayed the same, too. Lonely and longing, though her own hesitation held her back from her wants.

He became determined not to back away this time.

🗡

Neither slept for the remainder of the night, only laid in a distant silence until the sun rose. Together, they dressed again. Routine had become their grounding, something to look forward to at the beginnings and endings of every day. When Cregan moved to fix his hair half-up as he usually did, Daenys stopped him. Guiding him to her vanity chair, Daenys started to gather strands of brown hair in her hands.

Confused, Cregan looked to his bethrothed but did not argue. The feeling of her hands carding through his hair left shivers down his spine. No one had done his hair for him—ever. Though he spent many hours with Sara's hair, trying whatever styles she wished, Sara had assumed he would hate styles in his own and consequently never offered.

Daenys braided his usually simple strands of hair back, tying them together with the black tie that blended to his hair well. When he was about to stand, she reached over his shoulder to grab the little grey pearl. Carefully, she used the loose ends of the braids to wrap around the pearl snug into the center of his hair.

"Cregan," she spoke up, wringing her hands nervously. Her cresent nails dug into her palms and wrist back and forth, alternating to keep her mind busy with the stimulation.

He craned his neck back, reaching to grab her hand and squeeze assuringly after he was sure she was finished. He waited for her to start, knowing not to interrupt her thoughts.

Cregan stood from the stool, comically small next to him, to properly face Daenys. He cradled her face in his ungloved hands, the warmth and roughness a familiar contrast to her skin. "I know." Was all he said, eyes warm and understanding.

"I'm not good with words. You know this." She glanced at his eyes through the mirror before moving her gaze back to their joined hands. "I don't know if I'll ever be, not like you are. But...I want you to know I have no regrets with anything concerning you."

It was no direct confession. No romantic display of true feelings like Cregan had done for her. Perhaps she could, one day, but not now. Not when death was looming at the steps of their door, waiting for them to take one clumsy step and fall into its arms.

When they had gotten ready, packing their things up, Cregan and Daenys went to the entrance of Harrenhall. There, Simon had been informed of their plans and met them to bid farewell.

Daenys bowed her head slightly, taking Ser Simon in a brief hug. "Thank you, Ser, for your kind accommodations. I know we haven't been the most discreet guests, but we are most appreciative."

The older man smiled, though not the placating and tense one he always wore around Daemon. This one was genuine and understanding as he nodded and waved the young girl off. "It was no trouble. There are worse guests to host here." They shared an amused smile, and Cregan and Daenys were off to Morningstar.

The young dragoness was lying in a field of damp grass when they came out, Daenys attaching their bags to her saddle bag once more. "Just a short flight, girl. I'll get you to the dragon keepers." She swore, petting the dragon's snout and earning a chuff in return.

Cregan settled behind her, slightly less tense than he was for his first flight. Still, he clutched her abdomen tight, ever cautious and expecting the worst.

Morningstar took off swiftly, swaying slightly as she found steady flow to her flight. The wound didn't seem to falter her much, Daenys noted gratefully.

It was a quick flight, only filled with anticipation in different manners from Daenys and Cregan.

Daenys, both excited to see her family and scared to see their reactions to Rhaenys' untimely death, was gripping the handlebars with whitened knuckles. Cregan was thinking of the Black Council and how he could fit himself into their already established motions. He wondered if the Queen would accept him, as young as he was compared to the rest of her advisors. His mind strayed to Dusk and his marching men, reminding himself to check in on their progress when he was alone.

When approaching the island, Cregan's brow furrowed. "I knew Dragonstone was a large castle, but it is much more daunting than I imagined. A...heavy presence to be sure."

Daenys nodded. "It is the home of the first Targaryens to grace Westeros. Many have lived and died here, and a certain presence of the people who lost themselves to fate has not left it's halls. Quite eerie, I prefer to spend my time on the beaches or in the dragonpit."

The dragonkeeper standing at the archway gaped at the sight. "Princess!" He shouted, bowing to the young princess. "We did not expect your arrival. The Queen is currently readying to hold council."

The landing was swift, if not slightly rough from Morningstar having to fold her wings to fit through the cave's mouth. Cregan seemed tense from the confinement, scanning the cave intently. The dragon landed at the perch, allowing the two riders to slip off without trouble from the cave's depth. Around them, rumbles could be heard from dragons waking at the sound of kin coming in. Vermithor, perhaps, or Syrax. Silverwing spent most of her time sleeping, having nothing to do but guard her clutch close to her. Daenys had been eager for the eggs to hatch, for Morningstar to have more young dragons to play with. The elders were busy slumbering most of the time, choosing to not be active anymore with no riders.

Tyraxes, Vermax, Arrax, and Moondancer were her main company. Now, perhaps it was only the three left to roughhouse with her in the skies as she liked. Though Syrax was closest to her size compared to her brothers' small dragons, the golden beast did not 'play' outside like they did, enjoying her nest with Caraxes. The white dragon would not have any dragons her size for a long while, with Vermax and Moondancer growing at a much slower pace than she was.

"Please take care of Morningstar for me. She has been wounded."

"Wounded, my Princess?" He asked, a heavy frown dragging his old face down.

Narrowing her eyes, she thought for a long moment. No ravens were sent informing Rhaenyra or anyone else at Dragonstone of Daenys' surpirse visit to Rook's Rest. Lord Staunton's keep was still under the Green's control, heavily guarded and watched. All they knew was that Rhaenys and Meleys were not coming back—dead.

"Claw marks, on her shoulder." She stated vaguely.

She passed the silent dragonkeeper on her way into the castle. He could only watch on as the mysterious man accompanying her followed suit close behind her heels, like a protective guard dog. The Princess had never taken a passenger on Morningstar before, save for her younger brothers, so the sight was jarring to the man who witnessed most of the girl's youthful years.

Daenys, in only a simpler Lady's gown, dained to dress herself properly in her own clothes before presenting herself to court. Cregan waited patiently outside her chambers as Franny attended to her Princess. While waiting, he uneasily scoped out the parts of the castle he could see. Though it was daytime, the halls still seemed dim and droll, echoing every step Cregan took on the way to her chambers.

A door a few yards down the hall creeked open, a deep sigh escaping the man exiting it. Taking a few steps, Cregan was swiftly noticed. The dark, curly hair revealed himself as Prince Jacaerys, if Cregan's memory served him well. He bowed politely, "My Prince."

Keen brown eyes narrowed in a way that contrasted Daenys' greatly. He was made of the sharp, polished features befitting of a Prince, though only lacked the Valyrion traits most people in his family shared. "Lord Stark." He spoke, a graveling and almost spiteful spit.

"What are you doing outside my sister's chambers?" He asked, resting his wrist upon his sword's pommel and standing up straight, sizing the man in front of him up.

Cregan was unmoving, though felt slightly scandalized by the unspoken allegations. "I am waiting for Daenys to finish getting ready." He answered, careful not to shift Ice at his shoulder to draw attention to the longsword. He was not to be made a threat in the Prince's own castle.

The Prince in front of him seethed, "Daenys? Is it common for Northerners to call a Princess by her given name? I was unaware of such...traditions."

"Of course not, my Prince. I apologize—" As he was attempting to balm the miscommunication, Daenys popped her head out from the chamber door. "Jace!" She said, rushing to hug her brother. Now, in more suited clothes, Daenys wore a deep crimson dress with embroidered golden laces on the corset and sleeves. Black dragons wrapped around her waist, a detail she must have done herself in passing time. Her sleeves reached down to taper at the wrist, covering the bite mark. Though her hair was tied back in a bundle of romantic tuck braids, leaving the scar on her neck for all eyes to see if they looked close enough. Cregan thought the powerful colors suited her, though the soft pastels of Harrenhall's dresses had given her a youthful and soft appearance that he admired too.

Though Jace easily accepted the hug, he glared daggers at Cregan still, only placeted when Daenys tore herself from him and guided him closer by the arm to her bethrothed. "Jace, this is Cregan." She introduced, squeezing his bicep when Jacaerys did not speak at first.

He sent a look to his elder sister, pursing his lips before nodding. "It is a pleasure to meet the Lord of Winterfell."

"And it is an honor to meet the Prince of Dragonstone." Cregan said, matching his tone cooly.

Daenys smiled, looking between the Prince and Lord. "Let's go to the council room. I'm sure they are impaitient to start." She said, urging Jacaerys on with still-interlocked arms. Passing Cregan, who fell in step with her, Daenys glanced up at her bethrothed with annoyed eyes, nonverbally apologizing for her younger brother's brashness. He stifled a smile, looking forward to center himself for the meeting.

Entering the room, Jacaerys and Daenys were formally announced. They matched a refned grace in their powerful strides down the steps and towards the glowing table, which Cregan took interest in. It was a mirror of the Targaryen legacy, painted in 'Fire and Blood' just as their namesake called for.

Daenys stepped slightly forward, clasping her hands together. "Your Grace." She first acknowledged, nodding to her mother. "This is Lord Cregan Stark, here to stand place as your Master of War in Ser Broome's place."

Lord Staunton's seat was empty, too, right next to the head of the table. The loss seemed heavy on the council's shoulders. The older men who knew the Lord well were saddened by his cruel death at the hands of the Greens. The Lord was one of the wiser amongst the members, and the Blacks had taken a heavy loss with his demise and Rook Rest's new occupation.

"You are welcomed to Dragonstone, my Lord, and to my council. I trust my daughter's opinions, and in lieu of that, I extend my trust in you. We are to be family soon, more than merely allies in a time of war or peace. I hope that the union of our two Houses can prove to be fruitful for all of us." She gestured towards the seat at the end of the side of the Painted table, only one space between where Rhaenys had sat only yesterday morning.

Daenys took an end table seat next to Jacaerys, and the freshly joined Baela, parallel to her mother. "He is still making progress with the liege House. Oscar Tully is still waiting for his grandsire's move to choose a standing. He expressed his wishes to join us but cannot act without being officially Lord Tully.

Rhaenyra swiftly moved on, discreetly nodding to her daughter to welcome her back, too. Though warmer greetings could be shared later in privacy. "I received a raven from Ser Simon Strong of your residence at Harrenhall, though still have received nothing from the King Consort. What is the progress of the Riverlands?" She asked, brushing her black dress down to take a seat.

The Blackwoods have sworn to us. Though, after the battle at Burning Mill, tensions are high between the Riverland houses. Those who have chosen their fealties are already eager to fight amongst each other before orders come from Your Grace." She finished, leaving out any unimportant details. Daemon's frustrating lack of communication was his own fault, not hers.

Rhaenyra nodded, taking in the information appreciatively before moving to question another. "What of Rook Rest's state?"

Lord Celtigar spoke up, "Lord Staunton has been executed in his home, leaving his daughter Lady Kalla to take his place, though she is held prisoner and at the mercy of the soilders watching over the castle. Duskendale, too, has been taken by Criston Cole. We still have no ground army but the one Daemon is in the midst of raising."

Cregan spoke up, "I have 4,000 men strong marching down as we speak. They will have neared the Twins by now, it is only a matter of time until they are in the South and ready to be stationed at the Queen's command."

"I am sure the Blackwoods will be sending a strong force to support your cause." Daenys said quickly after. "And, if we are lucky, the Tullys will decide soon enough that their rightful queen is to be supported. With the Tully's support, the whole of the Riverlands will shift to our side, surrounding the Crownlands and the Reach once the Northmen join them."

Rhaenyra nodded to Cregan and Daenys, grateful for the information. "I cannot afford to simply wait around for Lord Glover Tully to either choose a side or for the young heir to take his place. Send to Maidenpool and Crackclaw point. Let them man their garrisons and give them stores or weapons if they find them wanting."

"We must answer Rook's Rest, my Queen."

"They are lost already. But, Vhagar is depleted after such a hard fought battle between her and The Red Queen." Lord Celtigar spoke up, interrupting the knight in front of him.

"We will hear of Vhagar's state soon. Her return to King's Landing was said to be a clumsy one. I would wager that Rhaenys landed a few solid blows to the old beast."

Daenys looked between Cregan and Rhaenyra, fiddling with the cuff of her sleeve as the men continued to interrupt and speak over each other. Cregan met her eyes, nodding encouragingly as he grasped her hand under the table.

"Vhagar and Sunfyre are injured." Daenys spoke up.

The council stilled, earning sharp and confused looks from different people. Rhaenyra, growing to a realization, asked. "Injured? How do you know of this?"

Jace looked to her, too, a concerned look gracing his face.

"Morningstar was able to bite off a good chunk of her tail, in the midst of battle. Though Meleys fell, Vhagar will be taking time to recover at King's Landing. Sunfyre, too, will not be defending anything with his injuries—his wings are burnt and torn. I doubt he will be able to fly again, if he and Aegon survived the fall and his injuries."

Silence met her words. The Lords and knights exchanced bemused glances, wondering how they were so unaware that the Princess had joined the fight. Jace was pale, though silent, too.

Rhaenyra spoke first. "You went to Rook's Rest. Alone—with two dragons." She rubbed her forehead, seemingly having aged ten years from the news her daughter gave her.

Sheepishly, Daenys nodded. "I..." She glanced around, aware of the outsiders listening carefully. "I heard news of Sunfyre and Vhagar on their way to Rook's Rest. I knew something was amiss, so I followed in hopes that they were not going directly to Dragonstone for an ambush."

Rhaenyra nodded, understanding her underlying meaning. "And Aegon joined this battle? How was his state?"

"I am unaware of it, I saw him and Sunfyre hit by Vhagar's flames and go down, but I don't know their status otherwise."

"Aemond struck down his own brother?" Ser Steffon asked, horrified by the Green's apparent infighting.

"I can go again." Daenys offered, glancing at her brother and cousin. "Perhaps with Vermax or Moondancer. We can easily take back Duskendale and Maidenpool with three dragons against a small force of men."

Rhaenyra thought for a moment, considering the proposal. She turned to Lord Celtigar next to her. "These two keeps are absolutely needed for our fleets, correct?"

The Lord nodded quickly. "If they have a standpoint so close to our waters, our ships could be burned down easily."

The Queen pursed her lips, solemnly conceding. "Very well. Moondancer will be sent to Duskendale, which is reported to have the least amount of men stationed to protect it. Vermax and Morningstar will go to Rook's Rest."

The three across from her glowed with acknowledgement, firmly nodded at the command.

"However—" She paused, lifting a hand.

"If there is a dragon still stationed at Rook's Rest, you will turn around."

Jacaerys and Daenys agreed, and the council was formally dismissed. Cregan squeezed Daenys' hand once again before standing, glancing at the Queen. "I will meet you by your chambers." He was beckoned out by Franny, who flitted to quickly show him his prepared guest chambers.

Daenys was left with only Jacaerys and Rhaenyra. They all stood to circle, exchanging tender hugs of greeting. When Rhaenyra pulled away and pushed a strand from her daughter's face, her dark eyes shot to her neck. "What is this?" She gasped, tracing the scar with a ghostly touch. Jace leaned in to see the fuss, glaring down at his sister for a proper answer to the new wound.

🗡

"It is old by now." Daenys sheepishly brushed her mother's hand away, attempting to quell their worries.

"Old? You did not have that before you went to fetch Lord Stark." Jacaerys said.

"I did." She stated firmly. "I got it on my trip to the Wall—"

Jace threw his hands up in frustration, pacing around a few feet from his mother and sister. "I told you, mother! Lord Stark can not possibly keep her safe in a place like the North. He took you to the Wall, alone?"

Daenys, as if realizing only now that her travels alone with Cregan were not a proper way of doing things—especially considering their stations—flushed. "He did protect me. This is simply a consequence of my own misjudgement. Which, I might add, I handled."

Rhaenyra pursed her lips, stepped back from Daenys. "It is too late to recind a bethrothal anyway. Daenys has stated her content with it, so I must trust that she is being truthful. You as well, Jace." She reminded her ornery son sharply.

"Now, about Rook's Rest..." Rhaenyra turned her intimidating ire to Daenys.

Jace shrugged when she glanced over her mother's shoulder in a desperate plea for help. There's no getting out of this.

Daenys sighed softly, avoiding her mother's intense gaze. "I saw Criston Cole's army marching in the cover of a forest. From Ser Simon's tellings, it was Rook's Rest they were approaching. They led scorpions and arches, I knew it was an ambush meant for a dragon. In a place so close to Dragonstone—I feared it might have been one of you they were intending on meeting." She said, eyes glossy from the memory of her grandmother.

Rhaenyra nodded sympathetically. "I am not happy with you running into battle with Vhagar like that, but I am sorry that you were alone when Rhaenys fell. Did she...?"

Daenys nodded solemnly. "Morningstar almost saved her, but she refused my hand when the time came. She knew her fate, I suppose." Though she wished to have her wise and sturdy grandmother still at her side, her one comfort was the acceptance on Rhaenys' face when she last saw it. "Aemond did not give chase, even when he had the opportunity to."

Rhaenyra nodded thoughtfully. "Even if he did, Morningstar could easily outfly him."

She shook her head, ashamed of her actions. She had only survived out of luck and not skill. "If he did, I would have put every resident in Harrenhall in danger—Cregan, Ser Strong, Alys. All the servants, too." She wrung her hands, letting a shaky breath fall from her lips. If Aemond wanted, he could've burned Harrenhall completely down with no issue.

"It didn't, sweet girl. That is what matters. You are alive, safe again at home." Her mother soothed, squeezing her hand. Behind, Jace nodded his agreement.

Rhaenyra faced him, gesturing for him to stand by Daenys, which he did smoothly. Together, the pair looked alike only in skin tone and clothes, though any could tell that they were siblings. Rhaenyra looked over them with clouded eyes, knowing that a third and fourth were missing from the picture. Little Joff, sent away to ward with strangers. Young Luke, taken by the salt and sea. They were only half of what they once were, though stood tall despite the absence weighing on their minds.

"When you go to Rook's Rest, I want you to do no more than I have asked. The sight of two dragons alone should be enough to send the men running, and even if it is not, they will be easily defeated. The matter of Lady Kalla and her younger brother, Kallus will be more difficult, I presume. They will be guarding inside, where your dragons cannot follow."

"We will simply drag them out." Jace said, determined as ever for the cause.

Rhaenyra eyed him, grateful for the eagerness yet worried for she knew his recklessness grew every day. "You have not fought real battle like these men have, Jace."

He scoffed, "what have they fought, a few battles along the Crownlands from House to House, outnumbering the Lords in their own homes? I reckon most have their swords unbloodied still."

He had a point. A time of peace had been carried since before Viserys' time. Most swords were unused beyond petty fighting between Houses, tourneys, and duels. Daenys had to wonder if the only ones in Westeros left with real experience were those up North guarding the South from Wildlings.

"We will take care of it when the moment arises, mother. We have no way of knowing until we get there." Daenys said calmly, looking between her mother and brother.

The Queen sighed and agreed. "I am putting my faith in you three to get the coast back from the Greens. I have no doubt that you will succeed, but promise me you will be safe."

Daenys and Jacaerys tensed at the words. The very same ones she had spoken to them and Luke before Lucerys had died. They all stayed true to their oath, indeed, but at the cost of Luke's life. They nodded together, no book to swear upon but their own hearts.

"We will."

🗡

Cregan had used the time in his guest chambers to warg into Dusk again. There, in his direwolf's body and mind, he had discovered the location and status of his bannermen. The greybeards were not far from The Twins, as he had expected, while the younger soldiers were only a few days behind and approaching steadily.

With his mind eased, Cregan allowed his bannermen to lead themselves once more. He grew antsy with all the sitting around he was confined to, though dared not complain. There was nothing he could do until his men made it deep into the Riverlands.

Outside of Daenys' chambers, Cregan found her waiting. "Apologies, Princess, I found myself held up."

Amused, she smiled and accepted the apology with ease. "I will leave with Jace and Baela soon. Hopefully, I will be back before the morrow."

Cregan felt his chest tighten at the words, though he already knew of her assignment. At the Painted Table he was unable to express his concern for her, but he knew it had to be done. Jacaerys would accompany her, which brought him comfort. He was unaware of the princeling's sword skills, but knew he had no experience besides training.

"Is there no way I could accompany you?" He asked, bringing her hands to his own and squeezing slightly.

Daenys squinted slightly, pondering his ask. "Perhaps...I could use you for ensuring Lady Kalla and her brother come out safely from the guards' watch. I don't know how they will respond to us at the gates, and we do not have time to starve them out."

He gave her control of the decision. "Whatever you choose, I will stand by it." He swore.

To clarify, he meant for her to be allowed to take a mistress/lover if she took moon tea or whatever so there wasn't bastards in their name yk

simon def thinks Daenys is his grandniece I can't lie

About Winterfell-I imagine it NOTHING like GOT shows it to be. It is unbelievably tiny in the show, with silly round roofs, short and thin walls, and a tiny Godswood. In the books' depictions, the walls are super thick and 80 feet high, the Godswood is acres long alone and so is the city, and the roofs are pointed to actually let snow slide off. Winter Town is just outside the walls, making it a more lively place than we see. In the show it always shows Winterfell being completely isolated in the middle of nowhere, which would be super inconvenient for its people.

was it casual when you were the first person to do my hair?

Had the Rook's Rest scene planned for a few chapters for I know the plot for it just haven't written it yet. Though, I don't know if I should bring Cregan or not. On one hand, he would sit useless at Dragonstone. On another, he might steal the spotlight from Daenys slightly if he did come. What do y'all think? The main plot of it wouldn't change anyway hehe

sorry for delay again, I CANNOT catch a break these past weeks. 🥹 action next chap finally, wanted to get this out.

#dragondreamer #cregan stark x reader #cregan x reader #hotd fanfic #cregan stark x oc #cregan stark #hotd #hotd season 2 #cregan fanfiction #cregan

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runnning-outof-time · 1 year ago

Note

The first of a few :)

Tommy- (3 word sentence prompt) “Happy or Sad?”

Thanks for sending this in Liz! I’m sorry it took me a bit to get to writing it. This is a COMPLETE flip from the fic I shared earlier haha. Also I have to say that the bit at the end was inspired by the lovely Bri @there-goes-thefighter ‘s latest Tommy fic ‘Your Shadow Side’…it’s a bit different here, but the idea was stuck in the back of my mind nonetheless. Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Part of my 3.5k Celebration - find other stories here!

Bedtime Stories

Tommy Shelby x Reader & Daughter

Warnings: none

Word Count: 797

Summary: Tommy gets asked a question that leaves him speechless while he’s telling his daughter a bedtime story.

“I want daddy to tell me a story tonight!” Isabella Shelby exclaimed, stamping her foot on the ground as she looked up at her mother. Her little hands were balled up into fists, and the glare on her face was one that could even rival her father’s. Wonder who she got it from?

(Y/N) sighed and looked away from her four year old daughter, at her wits end now. It had been a long day. Isabella woke up in a grumpy mood, so everything had been a fight with her. On top of that, Matthew, her two year old son, had just figured out how to get into things, so she’d been following him around the house to make sure he didn’t hurt himself or break anything.

“Dad’s busy with his work at the moment, darling,” she tried to reason with the child.

Isabella did not listen. “I’m going to go ask him,” she insisted, turning on her heel then so that she could make her way down the hall to the door of her father’s office.

(Y/N) stayed in the hallway, her arms crossed over her chest as she heard the muffled exchange between her husband and child. A look of surprise formed on her face when Isabella emerged triumphant from the office moments later with Tommy following behind her. She’s wrapped around his finger, (Y/N) thought to herself with soft laugh.

“Time for bed?” Tommy questioned as he approached (Y/N), chuckling at the fact that Isabella had walked right passed her without a word.

“It is,” (Y/N) responded with a nod, her eyes wide as she conveyed her exasperation to him. Tommy sent her a soft grin before he continued to follow his daughter to her room.

Once Isabella was settled, Tommy got into telling an elaborate story about a princess who had to go and save her darling dog from the grasps of an evil king — they’d just taken in Cyril and the little girl was obsessed with all things related to dogs. Isabella listened intently to the story, reacting to all of the twists and turns that it had. That was the thing she loved most about her dad’s bedtime stories: no one was the same. (Y/N) swore that he could have made a career in writing them…if he hadn’t went down other paths that is.

“We’re reaching the ending now, love,” Tommy warned his daughter as he took a moment’s pause. A pout formed on Isabella’s face; she didn’t want the story to be over yet. “I need to ask you about the ending…”

“What about it?” Isabella interrupted before he could get to the question, her eyebrows furrowing as she titled her head slightly.

“Happy or sad?” he asked, his brows raised as he waited for her answer.

“Happy,” the little girl answered without second thought. Tommy nodded and prepared to end the story. Isabella spoke again before he could get a word out, “who would ever choose sad?” she asked, her question one of the most genuine ones Tommy had ever heard.

“I…” he began to answer, but his words died in his throat as he really thought about the question she asked. He shook his head and ran his hand along his jaw, trying to think of a response that was worthy of such a question. “Someone who isn’t quite sure what happy is, I’d guess,” he finally responded, not sure if what he decided on was even good enough.

Isabella thought about it for a second, her pondering starkly present in her facial expression. “Well that isn’t us, right, daddy?” she then sweetly asked, her doe eyes finding his again.

In that moment, all the bad that Tommy Shelby had done was washed away. All the struggle and strife, the bad blood and the tunnels were the furthest thing from his mind. Now all that was present was the world that his darling daughter was imagining. One that only held good, one where everything ended happy. He was so thankful for her innocence, for the light that she brought into his life.

The slightest smile graced his lips as he shook his head ever so slightly. “No, love…that isn’t us,” he answered her as he sat a loving hand on her blanket covered knee. His smile grew with each second their eyes stayed connected, and he thanked whoever was mainf decisions in the sky for giving him this beautiful little girl.

“Are you gonna finish the story, dad?” Isabella asked, cutting through Tommy’s thoughts and bringing him back to reality.

Her expectant look made him laugh as he nodded his head. “Yeah, I’m gonna finish the story,” he answered her before going on with the happy ending she’d asked for.

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @emotionalcadaver @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @cillmequick @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @acewritesfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @brummiereader @areyenotfondofmelobster @everythingelseisextra @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife

MASTERLIST

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby blurb #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders blurb #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #k’s 3.5k celebration

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iloveacaibowls111 · 1 month ago

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Memories of You ☆

SYNOPSIS: Satoru and his two children, Tsumiki and Megumi, watching old videos of you after you passed away.

A/N: I don't go into depth about what happened to you, so feel free to imagine whatever you want. You guys adopted the two kids when they were around 3-5 years old and they are currently around 9-10 years old.

‘Oscar, you rat!’ Your voice, sharp and playful, echoed throughout the empty cinema room, words bouncing off the dark walls. ‘It’s my necklace. Stop being so annoying.’

Satoru, Tsumiki and Megumi all sat cross-legged, mesmerised by the scene unfolding in front of them. The large cinema screen played a video of you at 18, long before Tokyo and the family that you had built here. Back then, in New York, you were a familiar face. A celebrity, of sorts. Your parents were very well known - Dad owned several multi-million dollar companies while Mom was a socialite. Naturally, your siblings and your younger years were captured in a reality series, documenting your life for the whole world to see.

‘I love my siblings, one thousand percent. No doubt about it,’ your younger self chimed in from the screen. Though the same face they knew now, your hair was bleached blonde—a style choice you’d insisted on back then, convinced it ‘complemented’ your skin tone. “But sometimes they’re the most infuriatingly stupid people on this planet.”

‘Don’t say that about your siblings.’ Your mom’s reprimanding tone piped up from behind the camera, only to be met by the rolling of your eyes.

“Fine, sorry.” You groaned, then, after glancing at the camera, flashed a mischievous smile. “But it’s true, though.”

Satoru sat quietly, watching the screen as your familiar voice filled the room. In this fleeting moment, he felt as though everything was normal again - like he could finally breathe without his lungs threatening to collapse under the weight of grief. He felt as though he was currently navigating his life completely in the dark, lost and heartbroken. The only source of light was the fading memories of you. He could feel the familiar welling of tears forming in his eyes and in this very moment, he was grateful for the fact that he was wearing his blindfold. His gaze shifted to Tsumiki and Megumi, seated on either side of him, and his heart ached even more deeply. If that were possible.

Tsumiki sat in silence, tears streaming down her face as her eyes were fixated on the sight of you laughing on the big screen. Her hands instinctively reached for the necklace she was wearing around her neck. The one that you had left her, a delicate Tiffany heart necklace that you had gotten from your mother. Your mother gave it to you as a birthday gift but you wanted it to be more meaningful for your little girl. So you before you gave it to her, you sat down and somewhat tried to construct a heartfelt emotional letter to her. “No matter what,” you had written, “I will always be with you, my sweet girl. I am your mother, and I’ll always love you.”

At that moment, you had wished you’d paid more attention in those English Lit classes.

Megumi was also silently sitting on the other side of Satoru, his small body pressed against your husband’s wide chest, intently watching the screen. Megumi was roughly rubbing his face every so often, in an attempt to hide the tears that were threatening to pour down. He wouldn’t cry, he refused to cry. He promised you that he’d stay strong for his sister and dad. Expressing emotions had never been his strength, but with you, it had been different. Probably because you are his mother. And moms just have that effect.

Suddenly, Satoru’s large arms wrapped around both children, pulling them close. They looked up, startled to see their usually playful, ever-humorous father staring ahead, a small tear trickled from behind his blindfold.

‘Dad, are you crying?’ Megumi quietly spoke, as if afraid to say the words too loud.

‘No. Just allergies.’ Satoru looked down and gave Megumi a shaky grin. ‘I’m the strongest, I don’t cry.’

‘It’s okay, Mommy would forgive you if you cried. Just this once’ Megumi responded, his voice barely heard over you talking in the background. His tiny hand reached out, grasping Satoru’s. Megumi’s small fingers were enveloped by his father’s larger, trembling ones.

‘Where do you see yourself in 10 years, Y/N?’ The interviewer’s voice drawing the attention of the siblings.

Your younger self paused, contemplating the question. “Honestly? I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice sweet yet certain, like honey. “But there’s one thing I’m sure of.”

‘And what’s that?’

“I’ll be with my family. My husband. My children. No matter what I’m doing, no matter where I am, I’ll have my family—one that I’ll love with all my heart. Even if I’m not around in ten years, I hope they know that I love them. I’ll always love them.”

The room fell into a hushed silence as the screen flickered, your bright eyes locking with the camera for just a moment, as if you were looking directly at them—at your family. And before the screen faded to black, you gave a final, playful wink.

#jjk #jjk x reader #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #megumi fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen megumi #fushiguro #fushiguro tsumiki #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #jjk fluff #dad gojo #gojo and megumi #gojo x y/n #satoru x you #jjk x y/n #dad!gojo

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mxlti-fand0m-imaginess · 9 months ago

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Unrequited // Hazel Callahan

request: Could you write a college Hazel x femme reader where they're roommates and Hazel is in their shared room upset, crying cause they have a really horrible friend who convinced Hazel that reader doesn't like her back and got all in her head about it.

prompts: none!

summary: when pj convinces hazel that there’s no way you could return her feelings, hazel starts to push you away, hurting you in the process.

warnings: none!

word count: 1.5k

a/n: gn!reader, reader is implied to be a lesbian

join my taglist!

“Look, you need to get over yourself. It’s never going to happen. Ever,” PJ said as she sat down next to Hazel.

Before PJ had so rudely interrupted, Hazel was gazing at you from across the quad, blissfully lost in her thoughts about you. Since the beginning of the school year, all Hazel could think about was you. You had been assigned as roommates, and ever since Hazel first saw you she was utterly, completely, and hopelessly in love with you. And sometimes she couldn’t help but wonder if you could ever feel the same. But unfortunately, PJ wasn’t having it.

“What?” Hazel asked as she looked over to PJ, a bit startled by her sudden appearance and slightly aggressive tone.

“There is no way they like you back. None. Zero. So get over it.”

Hazel frowned at her best friend’s words. “You really think so?”

PJ groaned in exasperation. “Uh, yeah. I mean just look at them. They’re like the straightest person ever. And even if by some miracle they were gay, there’s no way in hell you could pull them.”

Hazel tried not to let it show how much PJ’s words had affected her, but they had cut deep. Her eyes watered slightly and she quickly blinked to fight back the tears. Of course you would never like her. You’re… amazing. And she’s just… Hazel.

“Yeah… maybe you’re right,” Hazel sniffled, ultimately failing to hold back her tears. “Uhm, I- I’m gonna go. See you later.”

Hazel gathered her things and headed towards her dorm room, hurriedly wiping away her tears. At that moment, you looked up and saw her storming away, looking utterly miserable, and you felt your heart ache. You hated it when Hazel was sad, of course, you hated when anyone was sad, but with Hazel it was different. All you wanted was for her to be happy, and it killed you when she wasn’t. Hurriedly grabbing your bag, you rushed after her, hoping you could help make her smile again.

You were about to open the door to your dorm when you heard a soft sniffling from the other side. You frowned, Hazel was crying. So instead, you lightly knocked on the door, not wanting to intrude if she wanted to be alone.

“Hazel? Can I come in?” you asked, pressing your ear against the door and straining to hear her answer.

When she didn’t answer, you raised your hand to knock again, but Hazel pulled the door open just before you could. You felt your heart sink at the look of utter devastation on her face, and you wished you could just take all her pain away.

You stepped forward to hug her, but Hazel stepped back, walking over to her bed and sitting back down, pulling her knees to her chest.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. Hazel always let you hug her. Something must’ve really been wrong.

You stepped inside and shut the door behind you before you walked over to your bed and sat down, facing her. You slipped your bag off your shoulder and pulled off your jacket, waiting to see if Hazel wanted to talk about it. When it became clear that she didn’t want to say anything, you took it upon yourself to break the silence.

“Hazel, what’s wrong? I’ve never seen you like this before.”

Hazel didn’t reply, staring blankly into space. Now you were really worried. She was almost never sad, and even when she was it wasn’t this bad. You stood up and walked over to her, sitting down beside her.

“Talk to me. Please. I wanna help,” you whispered, looking at her intently.

Hazel shook her head and hugged her legs tighter. “You can’t help me. You’re just making this worse.”

Your heart shattered at her words. The last thing you would ever want to do was hurt you. You loved her. And seeing her so miserable just broke your heart.

“Are you upset with me? Did I do something?”

Hazel sighed, her sobs quieting down slightly. “Just go away. Leave me alone.”

Your felt your eyes begin to water as her words struck you. She had to have been upset with you, but you had no idea what you’d done. She was so upset she didn’t even want you around her. All you wanted to do was make it better, to make her smile again. But it was starting to seem like it wouldn’t be such an easy fix this time.

“Alright then. If that’s what you want, I’ll leave you alone,” you said, getting up and grabbing your jacket, heading out of the room to give Hazel the space she asked for.

Once you were gone, Hazel only started to cry harder. She could tell her words had hurt you, and that just made her feel worse. She didn’t want you to leave, not really. It’s just that being around you only reminded her of what she couldn’t have. And that only made everything she was feeling even worse.

It had been a few days since you had found Hazel crying in your shared dorm room, and ever since she had pretty much been avoiding you. You missed her so much, you were so used to spending almost every day with her, and now that she was avoiding you, all you could feel was the pain of her missing presence.

You just wanted her back. You wanted to know what you did to hurt her so badly. You wanted to fix it, to make things right again so you could finally have the best thing that had ever happened to you back in your life again. But as the days passed, you knew the likelihood of that was dwindling.

You were sitting on your bed attempting to do homework, not making any progress because all you could think about was Hazel, when the door opened and Hazel stepped in. Her eyes widened when she saw you, a grimace appearing on her face.

“Oh, I didn’t think you’d be here. I think I’m just gonna go…” she said awkwardly, turning to walk back out the door.

“Don’t go! Please…” the utter desperation in your voice made Hazel stop in her tracks.

You sniffled, all of your pent up emotions finally spilling out. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? Whatever I did to make you hate me so much, I’m sorry. I miss you. I miss you so much it hurts. Just please… tell me how I can fix this,” you pleaded, your voice breaking as you began to cry.

Hazel felt horrible. She had only been ignoring you to protect her own feelings, and she didn’t even stop to consider yours. Hazel closed the door behind her and walked over to your bed, sitting down beside you.

“You- you didn’t do anything,” Hazel admitted guiltily.

“Then why are you avoiding me? Why do you hate me so much? Did you just get tired of me?” you began to cry harder, too overwhelmed by your feelings.

“I- I can’t say…” Hazel mumbled, torn between wanting to comfort you and keeping her feelings hidden out of fear of pushing you away ever more than she already had.

You turned to look at her, your eyes red and puffy and your cheeks wet with tears. Hazel frowned, and against her better judgment, she pulled you into a hug. You felt yourself relax into her embrace, hugging her back tightly, not ever wanting to let go.

“Hazel, please. Just tell me what’s wrong. I love you. I don’t want things to just end like this.”

Hazel froze. Surely she must’ve heard you wrong. There’s no way you could’ve just said that you loved her. It just wasn’t possible.

“What did you just say?” Hazel asked, slightly in shock from what she thought she heard.

You sighed and pulled away from her embrace, wiping your tears away with the back of your hands. “I- I said I love you. I know this is an absolutely horrible time to say something like this, especially because you seem to hate being around me all of a sudden, but I love you. I’ve loved you practically since we first met. And I know that-”

Hazel cut you off, connecting her lips to yours. You squeaked in shock from the unexpected action before completely melting into her touch. You kissed back eagerly, not ever wanting the moment to end.

Hazel pulled away first, resting her forehead against yours as she panted for breath. Coming down from the high of finally getting to kiss the girl you’ve been in love with for months, you only felt more confused.

“I’m sorry,” Hazel said, taking your hands in hers. “I- I never meant to hurt you like this. I- I love you too. And I was only avoiding you like this because PJ had me convinced that you could never like me back and I just couldn’t stand to be around you because of how much it hurt. But I never realized that I would be hurting you too. I am so so sorry. Is there any way you could forgive me?”

You smiled softly, sniffling again as you wiped away your tears. “I’ll forgive you. On one condition.”

Hazel nodded eagerly. “Yeah, anything.”

You smiled as you leaned in. “Kiss me again.”

tags: @hazelvrr

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lesbianfakir · 8 months ago

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Something that is an example of good character writing in Princess Tutu is how Fakir and Duck have little incompatibilities in their personalities (you know. Beyond the obvious). It makes it a little harder for them to get along and understand one another but you get the sense that they’re both putting the effort in. It’s sweet and it makes the relationship feel all the more real.

Fakir is serious, blunt, and he doesn’t sugarcoat things. His words often come across as harsh, even when there’s real care behind them. As a result, Duck—who reads his tone but not always the intentions behind it—doesn’t always pick up on when he’s doing something nice for her. For example, when Duck starts to tell Mytho she’s Princess Tutu, Fakir startles her to interrupt her, causing her to turn back into a duck. She takes offense and only later realizes he did it so she wouldn’t reveal her identity to mytho before she was ready (and even then I don’t think she picks up on the full extent of it). There’s another scene where he tells her point blank if she doesn’t want to fight the raven she needs to stop being princess tutu. It comes across as quite harsh and seems to visibly sadden Duck, though he cares about her deeply and is only trying to keep her safe.

The other “incompatibility” that comes to mind is how Fakir is sensitive and easily offended while Duck tends to blurt out whatever’s on her mind. While there are many scenes where he does get upset (take the scene in the Wandering Knight where he takes her request to stop getting in fights as an attack on his character), there are just as many where he doesn’t take the bait. Watch the show a few times and you’ll notice Fakir has a habit of going silent when Duck says something insensitive. He waits for her to finish speaking and he either ignores her or moves on. In those moments, you can feel the conscious effort he’s making to not lash out. Duck’s earnest naïveté is part of why draws him to her but at the same time it causes friction between then when she’s overly hopeful about something delicate to him, like his writing.

Anyways tldr; Fakir tends to hide what he’s feeling and thinking behind a deadpan demeanor, which sometimes obscures his true intentions from Duck. Meanwhile Duck tends to trample over the things Fakir is sensitive about in conversation, and he often has to stop himself from getting upset. In these moments you see how these characters may not completely understand each other but they care about each other a lot and actively work to smooth out their differences. Also it’s very cute when Duck realizes after the fact Fakir did something nice for her and her face lights up.

These little quirks make room for natural misunderstandings between the characters. Honestly, I like how Princess Tutu doesn’t smooth out compatibility issues or completely rewrite Fakir’s character when he and Duck become friends. The same flaws and tendencies are present, we just see the characters taking more active, conscious steps towards getting along.

#if you need receipts I have them I just didn’t feel like getting screencaps #ask me about specific examples #princess tutu #fakiru #my children #I looooove psychoanalzying characters #if anyone cares I would be so so down to just sit down and do a full character analysis of my thoughts on all the tutu characters #and what makes them tick #but again! anything I say might be super obvious I can’t tell

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honorarysimp · 4 months ago

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Chapter 6: At Your Worst

series masterlist

Jail is a lot more different on the inside when you aren’t the one locked in a cage.

You make your way through the county jail, the air heavy with an oppressive atmosphere. The walls are grey and grimy, the sound of footsteps and quiet chatter filling the air.

There's a sense of unease within you, being surrounded by so many cops, their eyes sizing you up with suspicion. You're led down a long, narrow hallway, the fluorescent lighting making the place even more unsettling.

The officer leads you to a door, pulling out a key to unlock it. As he opens the door, you're hit with the sight of the visitation room. A line of people sat on metal chairs, wired phones in hand as they speak to the inmates on the other side of a glass partition. The air is filled with the sound of murmured voices, a mixture of frustration, sorrow, and determination. Behind the glass, you see the inmates seated on plastic chairs, their faces weary and resigned.

The officer leads you to an empty stall, gesturing for you to sit down. He gives you a curt nod, saying, "you can wait here. The inmate will be brought in shortly." The tone of his voice is professional, but there's a hint of curiosity as he observes you.

You nod once, settling into the hard chair. You can’t help the whirlwind of emotions rushing through you - fear, anticipation, dread, defiance. There's a sense of finality to this moment.

You’ve chosen your path and there's no going back now, not that you ever would. The officer leaves you alone with your thoughts, the room feeling suddenly more stark, the silence pressing in.

It doesn’t take them long to bring him in.

You watch intently as the door opens, Weeks walking through, clad in a jumpsuit and bound with cuffs on his wrists and ankles. His eyes sweep the room, settling on your face as he's led to the stall.

There's a tired defiance in his expression, though he can't completely hide the flicker of disdain and fury that passes over his features as he’s pushed down into the seat across from you.

His face is a mix of anger and resentment, his eyes fixed on you with such intensity that it almost feels like the glass separating you two isn’t even there. You can practically feel the tension, the electricity in the air as his thoughts and emotions crackle like a storm.

He’s a caged animal, his movements stiff and deliberate due to the cuffs around his wrists and ankles. It’s clear he’s itching to say something, to lash out, but for now he holds himself back with what seems like a monumental effort.

There's a coolness in your demeanor as you pick up the phone on your side, gesturing for him to do the same. There's a stark difference in how you both operate – you're in control now, your composure in contrast to his barely restrained anger. You wait patiently as he aggressively picks up his own phone, his handcuffed wrists struggling with the task.

He explodes, his face turning red with rage as he slams his free hand against the glass, spitting out the words. "MY OWN WIFE?!"

The veins in his neck standing out as his anger boils over. The impact of his hand against the glass causes a loud bang, echoing throughout the room. He looks like he’d try break through the glass just to wrap his hand around your throat if he could, his anger a tidal wave that he can barely control.

You purse your lips, your heart hammering so loudly that you can almost hear it over the static of the phone. You adjust your hold on the phone with a firm grip, maintaining a steel exterior, refusing to let him see any sign of weakness or hesitation. Despite the tension and his anger, you manage to keep your voice steady, replying with a coolness that belies the chaos within you.

Your voice is level, but there's a hint of satisfaction as you say, "did you think I wouldn't? She's my family too, as you so kindly reminded me." The words seem to spark a deeper rage within him, like throwing gasoline onto a fire. His face morphs further into anger, his eyes narrowing as he struggles to contain himself, the cuffs on his wrists clinking against the phone. He looks like he wants to explode all over again, but you've hit a nerve and he seems at a loss for words for a moment.

You continue, your casual indifference only serving to rile him further. You lean back in your chair, a nonchalant shrug accompanying your words. "Even she admitted you haven't been the same man she fell in love with since drugs got involved," you say, your voice matter-of-fact. The words clearly hit home, a flicker of pain passing across his face before it's quickly replaced with more fury. He opens his mouth to protest, but your claim has struck a chord and he can't find the right words to deny you.

His voice breaks with emotion when he does finally speak, his fingers wrapped so tightly around the phone that his knuckles are turning white. His eyes seem to burn with anger and desperation as he practically seethes the words at you, "Marky is dead. Paulie is dead. You sold us out, and for what?" The weight of those deaths hangs thick in the air, a painful reminder of the choices you made. Your heart feels heavy, but you keep your face stoic as you meet his gaze.

You take a moment to reflect on the last three days' events, the shock still somewhat fresh in your mind. Mr. Eldridge's unexpected turn of events, the news of Weeks being reprimanded by the authorities, all the raids – it was so surreal. Your mind races with thoughts, but you force yourself to remain focused, knowing there's more to unpack in this conversation.

Your face twists with emotion as you relay the events to him, your voice faltering momentarily before you continue. "Ray Eldridge, Tom’s father. He was coming for you, but when he found out you'd been arrested, he took out who was left and turned himself in” you say, the words hanging heavily in the air. There's a hint of pain and resignation in your voice, but you keep it steady, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you completely unravel.

Weeks' expression is a mix of anger, disbelief, and shock at this revelation. The news seems to have hit him like a freight train, and he struggles to process it for a moment, his eyes darting back and forth as he tries to wrap his head around the situation.

His anger dissipates for a moment, replaced by a resigned acceptance. He almost seems to deflate, the fight leaving his body.

"I knew it wasn't you," he says, his voice holding a note of certainty. "I knew you couldn't have killed Marky. He really did love you, y'know” there's a hint of sadness in his tone, a touch of the past peeking through the hardened shell he's become.

“He would’ve let me die years ago, if it weren’t for you, we both know that”.

You remain stoic, expression cold. You continue through gritted teeth, your voice leaving no room for doubt. "I didn't come here to make amends," you say, tone firm. "I came to tell you to sleep with one eye open since Ray Eldridge will be your bunk mate soon."

There's a dangerous edge in your voice as you deliver the warning, making it clear you're not here to make small talk or offer any kindness.

You add a final, menacing twist to your warning, your eyes locking onto his. “It’d be a damn shame if he finished the job,” you say, emphasizing the point. The threat hangs heavy in the air as the full weight of your words sinks in. The warning is loud and clear, leaving no room for misinterpretation.

He scoffs and calls your bluff, a hint of defiance in his voice. "Bullshit," he spits out. "You and me, we're all that's left now that Marky is gone. Marky would be rolling in his grave if he saw us like this” his words are laced with a mixture of anger and resignation, a hint of the man you use to know creeping into the present.

Your stomach twists uncomfortably as you see a glimpse of the man you remember. A mix of disappointment and nostalgia fills your voice as you ask, "what happened to you? Why did you let things get this bad?"

There's a hint of the old, genuine concern you once had for him, a flicker of sadness at the transformation he's gone through the last few years.

You use to admire him, look up to him, now he’s just a monster.

His expression hardens as he replies, his voice quiet but firm. "I did what I had to do to keep our family afloat," he says, "so did you, so did Marky."

There's a cold detachment to his words now, a stark contrast to the familiar loyalty you knew him for. You can almost see the layers of callousness, the choices he’s made, weighing heavy upon him.

You deny his attempts to justify his actions, the anger growing within you. "You promised me a better life when I came to you," you snap, your voice raising a bit, "but instead you ruined it."

There's a mix of pain, betrayal, and frustration in your tone as you call him out, each word a bitter reminder of the promises he never kept.

He attempts to apologize, but you can see the insincerity behind his words. "I failed you," he begins, putting on a facade of remorse.

“You’re right, I should’ve done better by you, you’re my Lucky charm after all” his tone is hollow, the old nickname falling flat as the weight of his actions hangs between you.

Your face twists into a bitter expression as you speak, the weight of everything pushing back on you like a physical force.

"No, I’m not, that name was never yours to abuse" you say firmly, your voice final “not anymore, goodbye Pete."

The words feel like a weight lifted off your chest as you sever the connection between the two of you by hanging the phone on its hook in the stall.

You stand and force your eyes away from him, turning towards the door, ready to walk away.

He abruptly jumps to his feet, restraints clattering together, his voice muffled by the glass but still clear enough to understand. His anger is palpable as he slams his cuffed hands against the glass, his voice rising to a furious yell.

"I'M YOUR BROTHER," he roars, his eyes burning with a mix of pain and anger. "HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME? TO MARKY? LOOK AT ME!" the raw emotion in his voice is undeniable, the weight of your actions apparent in his pained expression.

Your steps don't falter, even as every fiber of your being screams at you to look back, to turn around. Despite the pain coursing through you and the tears threatening to spill, you forge ahead, resolute in your decision.

As you walk away, a million thoughts race through your mind – pain, regret, doubt, hope for a better future. But the certainty in your heart, the knowledge that this is the right choice, gives you strength to keep moving forward.

You don't look back as you’re ushered out of the room, your stride even and determined as you leave him behind.

There was no saving him, even your sister-in-law Rachel knew that, which is why you’d gone to her first before you went to law enforcement with everything you had.

You’d gone to the police later that day with three demands: immunity for you and your people, the Finestkind, and then to clear your record for a chance at a fresh start.

And in return? Weeks, a list of names, and every location to every warehouse you knew of. More than plenty to knock the operation down to a point of no possible recovery.

Now it’s for certain, with Weeks out of commission indefinitely.

The officer silently leads you through the narrow corridors, the sound of your footsteps echoing off the gray, grimy walls. As you finally exit the building, the world outside doesn’t seem as suffocating.

You step out into the new reality of your life, the sunlight hitting your eyes, the sounds and smells of the shore nearby hitting you like a wave. For a moment you stand there, taking it all in, before you start walking – your stride purposeful, determined, unbroken.

For the first time in your life, you feel free.

Your thoughts fade away as you look up, spotting Mabel leaned against her red car a few yards away, watching you intently as you exit the building.

A wave of relief washes over you at the sight of her– a sense of comfort and familiarity, her presence like a touchstone in this chaotic world.

She’s waiting for you, just like she said she would.

You approach her with a nod, a slight tight-lipped smile appearing on your face. She squints her eyes a bit from the sunlight beating down above before tilting her head slightly, studying your face quietly. There's a moment of silent assessment as she seems to gauge how you're coping.

As you come to a halt in front of her, you take in her lip now scabbed over, the dark bruises that have begun to fade now that they’ve had time to heal.

Don’t worry her more than you already have, you’ve put her through enough as it is.

You try to shrug it off with a casual, "it's good, I’m good." But Mabel, in her perceptive ways, sees right through your attempt. She’s known you long enough to see the hidden emotions behind your words, the turmoil bubbling beneath the surface. Her eyes meet yours, a slight frown on her face, clearly not buying your dismissal.

She says nothing, but the expression on her face speaks volumes. She knows you're putting up a front, hiding your pain behind false bravado. Her concern is evident, silently inviting you to drop the act, to let her in, to lean on her for support.

You feel the weight of her gaze, the weight of her silence, and it's almost unbearable. The facade you had carefully constructed starts to crack, the pain and the turmoil threatening to spill out. But you don’t break, not yet. You try to keep up the act, struggling to hold on to that mask of toughness, of strength.

And that's when Mabel finally breaks for you both, shoving her own pride and feelings aside for a moment. She grabs the front of your shirt with a surprising amount of force, pulling you towards her until you're enveloped in her embrace.

Despite the height difference, Mabel stubbornly pulls you down to her, her tippy toes barely doing the job. You’re caught off guard for a moment, but that facade you’ve been fighting to maintain finally breaks. The dam holding back your thoughts and emotions crumbles, and for a moment, you just give in.

You sink into the embrace, allowing yourself the comfort of her presence. Her warm body against yours, her familiar scent in your nose, it all feels so grounding. For a few seconds, everything else fades away, and you just focus on the feeling of being held and supported.

She tightens her grip around you, her voice a soft whisper in your ear. "You need to stop being so afraid of vulnerability," she says, her words echoing with a hint of admonishment. There’s a firm yet gentle tone to her voice as she adds "you have too big of a heart to pretend that you don’t”.

The situation is a mixed bag of emotions. You're painfully aware that you still love her, but you struggle with the conflicted feelings within you.

On one hand, you want nothing more than to take the chance and try to fix things with her. But on the other hand, you know that she dreams of leaving this small town behind, and you can’t imagine how such a relationship could possibly work.

You’re left feeling uncertain, torn between wanting to be with her and not wanting to hold her back from the life she desires.

The life she deserves. The one she’s worked too hard for to throw away.

You look at her as you pull back from the embrace, your gaze unwavering as you speak, confessing your insecurities.

"For the longest time, all I ever saw myself as was a bad person,” you hesitate for a moment, your gaze locked with hers.

Then, you continue, your voice filled with genuine gratitude, "you have no idea how much it meant to me, when you looked at me and all you could see was the good”.

Mabel’s eyes glisten with unfallen tears as she listens to your words, clearly touched by your confession. Her thumb continues to caress your cheek, the familiar gesture making your heart constrict.

Her voice quivers slightly as she speaks, a flicker of vulnerability in her gaze. "I’ll always see the good in you," she whispers, her words filled with a mix of determination and affection.

"You may have done bad things, but underneath all that, you’re a good person. I have, and always will see that”.

Her eyes impulsively flicker down to your lips, a magnetic pull threatening to draw you closer. But at the last moment, as you notice the subtle action, a pang of realization washes over you.

You can’t, you won’t.

You grasp her wrist gently, pulling it away from your face and preventing her from acting on the impulse. With an affectionate yet serious look in your eyes, it’s your turn to give her a stern yet tender ‘don’t you dare’ look.

The air between you is thick with tension and unspoken words, each of you acutely aware of the depth of your emotions. It’d be so easy to give into that longing, to close the space between you and let everything you feel for each other unfold.

But you both know that it’s not the right time, not yet. The unsaid words hang in the air like a tangible thing, a mutual understanding of the pain and desire that fills the space between you.

Someday, maybe, but not today.

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself before gently reassuring her, "it’s okay," you say, your voice steady despite the internal conflict. "You need to go. I don’t want to hold you back. So please go, follow your dreams, and get the hell out of here."

You try to sound resolute, but beneath the words there's a hint of uncertainty, an unshakable sense that you'll always wonder ‘what if.’

But you can’t think about that right now, because for once, you aren’t going to be selfish.

For once, she’s the one trying to stay and you’re the one telling her to go.

She’s on the verge of protesting, her mouth parted for a rebuttal, but you don’t give her a chance. You cut her off gently, your tone firm yet soft.

"Charlie can get you where you need to go, don’t walk away from that” you reiterate, a final insistence in your words. You swallow the lump in your throat as you maintain eye contact, hoping your expression conveys the depth of your feelings better than your words can.

“Don’t do this-“ she tries to protest again, her eyes pleading with you to change your mind, but you cut her off gently.

"Charlie can get you where you need to go," you repeat, your tone firm but gentle. "So go. Don’t stay here for me. I can’t hold you back, not when you have so much potential."

You know deep down that letting her go is the right thing to do. You don’t have much going for you right now– no car, no prospects– and holding her back would only lead to regret and resentment.

If she stayed, and you both tried again, it would only fall apart.

But even she, who once seemed so eager to leave this town and this life behind, now appears reluctant to let go. Her expression, her demeanor, it’s all a stark contrast to her usual independent spirit.

You take her hand in yours, pulling her slightly closer, your forehead gently resting against hers. Your voice is soft, a whisper filled with knowing and acceptance. "Mabel, it's okay,” you say, your words gentle and soothing. "I know. I know you, and I know what you want. So go. You know where I’ll be”.

The gesture itself is intimate, a quiet moment between you both that speaks volumes about your relationship and the depths of your understanding of each other.

You almost say it, but you hold back the words, the three words that have gone unsaid between you two for far too long on the tip of your tongue.

But you don’t, because you know if you do, she’ll never go.

Her eyes well up with tears, a subtle crack appearing in her typically composed exterior. She struggles to hold your gaze, her voice wavering as she speaks.

"Your nature is to love, not hate. Don't forget that," she says, her words both a plea and a reminder. It’s a side of her you rarely see, vulnerable and pleading, yet still filled with a deep affection and admiration for you.

The heaviness of the moment hangs in the air, the raw emotions almost palpable. You nod, silently acknowledging the weight of her words, before trying to lightening the mood.

"I’ll do my best," you crack a gentle but humorous joke, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "But we both know I’m prone for acting now and asking questions later".

She laughs, a sound that has a hint of both mirth and sadness to it. She playfully swats at your chest, seemingly trying to hold on to the moment just a little longer. But even as the laughter fills the air, the reality of the situation begins to set in, the moment slipping through your fingers like sand in an hourglass.

Her eyes lock with yours, a look of profound longing in them. For a moment, she seems to falter, as if she wants to say something.

But she takes a deep breath, composes herself, and her expression schools back into her usual aloofness.

Then, with a hint of her usual attitude, she barks, "get your ass in the car," and proceeds to round the vehicle to the driver’s side.

Despite the sadness and the uncertainty, a small smile grows on your lips. The weight on your chest lifts a bit, but your fidelity to her weighs heavily on your shoulders.

You can't help but chuckle. "Yeah, whatever you say sunshine" you reply, your voice carrying a mix of resignation and fondness. You climb into the passenger seat, settling into the familiar space, the scent of her car almost nostalgic to you.

But life is a funny thing, isn't it?

It's composed of moments just like this, moments we never want to end. But here you are, still moving forward, experiencing new and beautiful things.

The journey may continue, but the essence of those precious times remain within us.

Life is too short to worry about making sense of everything anyways.

____________________________________________

You’d think for being ten years old, your brothers would know better than to ditch you at the town’s annual carnival, left to wander around like a lost puppy.

Your brothers, older and arguably wiser, seem to have vanished into thin air, leaving you stranded in the midst of a sea of strangers and noise.

You weave through the crowd, the sights and sounds of the carnival assaulting your senses, but your brothers are nowhere to be found. Frustration mixes with the slight pang of being forgotten, as you continue your search through the maze of people and rides.

A distant flash of light and a faint noise catches your attention, drawing your gaze just beyond the borders of the carnival. There, in the distance, fireworks light up the sky, and the realization sets in – if your brothers are about enjoying themselves, you might as well go enjoy the spectacle while you’re stuck here.

You make your way out of the carnival grounds, dodging through the parking lot and ignoring the perplexed looks you receive from adults. They clearly question what a lone kid is doing out here by yourself, but the fireworks beckon, and you search for the perfect spot to watch the colorful display.

And that’s when spot her in the distance, a girl around your age with soft brown hair perched on top of a truck roof.

At first, you’re astonished by her bravery, because that’s up fairly high.

Her gaze is fixed on the fireworks, a look of wonder in her expression as the colorful explosions paint the sky. Curiosity sparks within you, and you pause in your tracks, studying her from afar.

For a moment, you watch her watching the fireworks, unsure whether to approach her or not. There’s something about her that seems both exciting and intriguing to you, a mystery waiting to be solved.

But before you can decide, she looks down, as if sensing your stare. Her gaze locks onto you, and a flicker of surprise crosses her face.

You keep some distance as you tentatively approach the vehicle, your gaze slowly wandering upwards to her small frame perched atop the vehicle, which makes her seem taller than you in this moment.

“What are you doing out here alone?”

You meet her gaze, a hint of boldness in your own defiant demeanor as you mimic her question, your response almost automatic, "what are you doing out here alone?"

The sky erupts in vibrant colors as more fireworks explode overhead, drawing your attention away from her and towards the spectacle above.

The bursts of light bathe everything in various hues, casting shadows and creating a mesmerizing dance across the stars.

But after a few moments, your gaze is inexorably drawn back to her. You notice how the different hues light up her features, casting a euphoric glow across her face.

Her very being seems to glow with a soft, radiant beauty, making it impossible to look away.

The fireworks might be captivating, but the sight of her watching them, her features lit up in a kaleidoscope of colors is even more so.

Just as you’re starting to wonder if your brothers will bother looking for you, she looks down and breaks the silence.

"Do you live around here?" Her tone is friendly, but there’s a hint of curiosity.

You hesitate for a moment, debating whether to tell her the truth or not. After all, you just met this random girl, and you don’t need her to think you’re some kind of lost kid.

Even if she is a kid herself, you feel the need to not look utterly helpless to her.

You decide to be honest, despite your initial hesitation. You shrug nonchalantly and reply, "no, I'm just here for the summer to visit my brothers, they’re here somewhere”.

You try to sound casual, like it’s no big deal that you’re out here alone, but something tells you that she might see right through your bravado.

She smiles, gentle and warm, causing a flutter of butterflies to stir in your belly. She then motions to the empty spot next to her on the truck roof with a pat, silently offering you a place to watch the fireworks beside her.

It’s high, and you’re a little nervous, but you buck up because you are not about to look like a wimp in front of this pretty girl.

There’s a certain tranquility and ease about the invitation, so you make your way to the tail bed and climb up.

You settle next to her, the metal of the truck cool against your skin, creaking softly as you settle into the spot next to her.

Huh. Not as scary as you thought.

The space is just big enough for the both of you, and you’re acutely aware of the proximity, although it doesn’t feel uncomfortable. There’s a sort of serenity sitting here, silently watching the fireworks together.

The fireworks continue to explode overhead, each burst of color and light adding to the surreal situation. You glance over at her, the glow of the explosions dancing across her face, making her look even more ethereal and angelic.

She keeps her gaze fixed on the fireworks, watching the sky dance in brilliant colors as she murmurs, "you should consider yourself lucky."

There’s a hint of something in her voice, a mixture of envy and understanding, and it’s clear she’s referring to your comment about not living around here. The lights from the fireworks reflect in her dark brown eyes, adding another touch of mystery to her gaze.

It's clear you're enjoying the moment, the fireworks almost secondary to her company. As the fireworks continue to burst overhead, you find yourself not really watching them, instead you're studying her profile, captivated by the way the colors dance across her features.

You take her words literally, and reply with playful nonchalance, "maybe I will, it does have a nice ring to it” your grin widens, a hint of mischief in your expression.

The unexpected reply causes her to turn towards you and laugh a fully, genuine, open sound that makes her seem even more pretty in the multicolored glow of the fireworks. Her laughter carries a hint of amusement, combined with a touch of disbelief.

That is the beauty of it, of course.

Because even though it doesn’t make sense to her now, someday it will.

previous, next

AN: thank you all for following along with this story! Once again, it’s been an honor, a pleasure, and a privilege.

#mabel finestkind #mabel x y/n #mabel x reader #mabel x you

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oizysian · 6 months ago

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Has Science Gone Too Far? | Elizabeth Olsen

Requested by @selfcestmovies

Summary: Lizzie is introduced to a new piece of technology.

Warnings: Lizzie is a bisexual mess, and a switch, selfcest, cunnilingus, lots of self love, science going too far.

Word count: 2.3k

•

“Lizzie, this is the most experimental tech in the industry right now.” My manager said as he led me to the giant door just inside the studio. “You’re one of the first people to use it.”

He opened the door and we walked in. It was a plain room, like a casting call, with a couch and a desk and a chair, but no windows, and with a very noticeable computer screen on the wall near the door.

“What is this place?”

“This, Lizzie, is the future of acting.” He walked over to the panel on the wall and the room changed right before our eyes to what looked like a sunny beach set. “You can set up a session with anyone in any setting. Pick anyone, alive or dead, and you can see them, feel them, smell them, the works.”

“Seems really weird.” I said shakily, still taken aback by the fact that the room just shifted completely around us.

“You’ll get used to it. You’ll be able to hone your craft with some of the best and brightest of our time and of our grandparents.”

I looked around the room, still apprehensive and not quite liking the idea. It seemed wrong in a way to be able to warp reality in this way. Technology seemed to be going too far for my tastes.

“Look, take your time with it. Check it out for a little while. You might end up liking it.”

He gestured to the computer panel he had previously been using and stepped towards the door.

“I’ll give you a few hours and check up on you again later, okay?”

He opened the door and slid out before I could even speak, shutting it behind him with a solid click.

I sighed, looking around at the sunny room before walking over to the computer and pressing reset. The room went back to being a regular office, couch and desk included.

“This is too weird.” I said to myself, looking at all the options on the screen.

There were options for people, places, and objects and out of curiosity, I chose people and typed my own name in.

Suddenly, there I was, standing in front of myself.

“What the fuck.” I said quietly, watching as the other me turned to look me over, a smirk appearing on her face.

“Well, well,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Look who it is.”

“There’s no way this is happening.”

“Oh, it’s happening. It’s happened with quite a few other people as well.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ever wanted to sleep with DiCaprio?”

I shook my head.

“Well, he wanted to sleep with you! The young you, at least. Aged me down a bit first.”

“What the fuck?” Was the only thing I could think of to say.

“Yes, fuck, that’s what they all do.” She smiled. “And you’re no different, I assume?”

I stared at her - me - for a moment before snapping out of my stupor, shaking my head.

“What - no. No!” This was absurd. Surely this wasn’t happening. I was in a coma or hallucinating or something!

“Mhm.” She looked me up and down. “Why did you choose yourself? It had to be out of some weird curiosity, no?”

Why had I chosen myself? Firstly, I didn’t even think the thing would work! Second of all, who else would I have chosen? Marily-

“-lyn Monroe?”

I looked up at her in shock. She was me. She knew what I was thinking. She could probably hear my thoughts, she was probably listening to them right now.

“Listen, I know what you’re thinking,” my eyes got wide. “But I’m not a mind reader. Are you?”

“No?” Was that a trick question.

“Then why would I be?”

She took a step closer to me and I watched her intently. I still couldn’t believe I was standing in front of myself.

“I’m Elizabeth Chase Olsen.”

“No you’re not. I am.” I protested.

“And so am I. Now are we gonna keep circling around the same subject or are we gonna get to why you’re really here?”

I blinked, once, twice, before I realized what she meant.

“I’m not here to fuck you - me.”

“Oh no? You’re gonna tell me you never thought about fucking yourself? What it would be like to have a twin?” She scoffed. “You’re talking to yourself. I know your fantasies. I know what you like.”

She took another step closer to me and reached out to touch me, her fingers barely grazing the skin of my cheek.

“I can feel you. And you can feel me, see?”

She fully cupped my cheek and I shivered, pulling away slightly. She smelt like me, she even felt like me - her skin the exact same as mine. How was this possible?

“It’s just me and you here. Let yourself feel good.”

I looked from her to the door and she smiled.

“Once the simulation starts, it can only be opened from the inside.”

I couldn’t deny the things she was saying. I had always imagined having a twin, jealous of my sisters at times, but I never imagined fucking myself.

Not really.

She tilted her head at me and I realized she was looking for an answer to the unspoken question that sat between us. Nobody would know and it might actually be fun, being with someone who knows exactly what feels good without having to tell them and not having to second guess myself when pleasuring them in return.

A small smile crossed my features before I nodded at her, her own smile widening at my confirmation.

“Now,” she said as she reached for the hem of my shirt, lifting it over my head and tossing it aside. “Tell me how badly you want me to touch you.”

Oh, fuck, I was hot. I never got the chance to be dominant, but it was clear that not only did I have the desire to be a dom, but I was good at it.

“I want you to touch me so badly.” I finally admitted, my eyes falling to the garment on the ground before raising them to look into her own, her emerald eyes dark with desire.

I imagined mine looked identical.

She drew her bottom lip into her mouth, biting on it delicately as she ran her hands along my shoulders, her fingers hooking underneath the straps of my bra and sliding them down my arms.

She looked hungry, wanting, and I could only commend her for her patience as she undressed me slowly.

“You’re perfect, you know that?” She whispered softly, her eyes falling from mine to my exposed chest.

Did I?

“I already know the answer,” she smiled, her fingers toying with my hardening nipples. “You don’t have to answer.”

I let out a shaky breath as I watched her play with me, goosebumps forming on my skin at her touch.

“I also know you don’t want me to be gentle with you.” She twisted my left nipple painfully and I let out a whimpering cry, a jolt of pleasure shooting down between my legs.

I panted softly as she led me to the empty desk, pushing me back against it, letting me know she wanted me on top of it. I hopped up onto the sturdy wooden desk and her lips instantly latched onto one of my nipples, her teeth digging into the sensitive flesh.

“Ahh,” I breathed, grabbing a fistful of her hair and pulling her against me. “H-harder.”

She released me with a pop and switched breasts, her tongue swirling around the nipple before she bit down on it.

“Oh, fuck.” I moaned, pulling her between my legs so I could get some friction.

Her hands gripped my thighs and I felt as though I was on fire from her touch alone. She licked and sucked at the hurt she inflicted before trailing kisses up my chest and neck, finding the sensitive spot behind my ear and making sure to give it lots of attention.

I was losing my mind. I had to get out of these pants and I needed to get fucked. Now.

I reached down to undo the button of my jeans, struggling to push them off with her firmly between my legs. With a growl, she grabbed them and tugged, pulling them off with one quick motion. I gasped as I sat in front of myself in only my panties, and knew from the look on her face I wouldn’t be wearing anything at all soon enough.

“Lift up your ass.” She said as she grabbed my panties, pulling them down my legs and bringing them up to her face to smell them. “You always loved the smell of yourself.”

She took the panties and grabbed my face, forcing my mouth open and stuffing them inside. I moaned as the smell and taste of myself filled my senses, making my head get fuzzy with thoughts of eating pussy - and getting my pussy ate.

“That’s right,” she cooed, noting the obvious look of arousal on my face. “You remember how good pussy tastes, don’t you?”

I nodded dumbly and she smiled, pushing me down to lay down on the large desk. She spread my legs and stared down at me, in awe of what she was seeing.

“You have the cutest pussy.” I clenched around nothing and she smiled. “Look at you! So hungry for me.”

I whimpered softly, grabbing at my own breasts as she got down between my legs, lapping up the wetness that was beginning to drip down my thighs. I pinched and twisted my nipples as her tongue went straight for my clit; long, hard strokes she knew would get me going.

She held my legs down and I moaned, my hips rolling to meet her tongue. Being with a woman was amazing, being with myself was divine.

She wrapped her lips around my clit and sucked while she released my left leg and brought her hand down to my pussy so her fingers could enter my aching cunt.

I wrapped my leg around her shoulders and pulled her closer to me. She hummed against me and I bit down on the panties in my mouth, squeezing my eyes shut as the most powerful orgasm of my life rocked through me.

She continued to fuck me through the delicious tremors and I came again before I could even finish processing the first one.

My legs went limp and my hands rested against my breasts, my breathing heavy as she raised herself up, licking her lips like a satisfied cat.

“Remember what pussy tastes like?” She pointed between my legs. “This is better than what you remember.”

I moaned softly, lazily reaching for her. She smiled and leaned over me, removing the panties from my mouth and kissing me ever so gently. I sucked her tongue into my mouth, eager to taste what she had already had the pleasure of tasting.

My senses were filled with the scent and taste of myself, and I honestly couldn’t get enough.

She pulled away from me and I panted softly below her, ready for whatever else she had to throw at me.

She stood in front of the desk and began to undress and I watched as she teased me, slowly revealing her perfect body to me. I gasped softly as her beautifully pale skin came into view and I couldn’t help but sit up and watch as she removed her bra, her breasts bouncing free.

I sat up fully and grabbed her by the hips, pulling her towards me as I began kissing along her shoulder, nibbling at her as I made my way down to her breasts.

She let out a little sound of pleasure as I sucked on her nipple, kneading the other breast with my free hand. She had a body worthy of worship. So, I guess, I did too.

I wanted nothing more than to have every inch of her in my mouth.

I released her breasts, a trail of saliva hanging from my lips to her nipple as I slid myself off the desk, kneeling down in front of her.

She looked surprised, maybe even amused that I was on the ground before her. I brought my face between her legs and inhaled deeply. She was right, I did love the smell of myself.

I spread her legs wider and stuck out my tongue. She took this as an invitation. Leaning against the desk, she lifted her leg to rest on my shoulder and I gasped as I realized this is what I looked like - a beautiful, glistening image of perfection.

She grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled me against her, grinding herself against my face. I barely even had to do anything and she was moaning, whining, ready for release.

I raised my eyes to look at her; her brows furrowed, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth, her breasts heaving. I let my tongue dip inside of her and she mewled softly, her nails scraping against my scalp.

She continued to hump my face as I fucked her with my tongue, occasionally leaving her hole to play with her clit. I held tight to her thighs, steadying us as she writhed in my grasp.

“Oh yeah, use that tongue.” She urged me on as I continued to eagerly lap at her wetness.

I flattened my tongue against her clit and she let her hips grind against me, her orgasm washing over her.

She let go of my hair, petting my head as I kept on sucking and licking at her sensitive skin, attempting to clean her up.

“You’re gonna make me cum again.” She whispered and I hummed in confirmation against her, knowing full well what I was doing.

She let out a high pitched whine as she came against my tongue again, my greedy lips kissing her pussy, taking in all of her juices.

“You’ve made such a mess.” She said softly and I smiled up a her, indeed a mess, covered in her cum.

“You’ve certainly honed your craft today, Miss Olsen.”

#oizysian writes #elizabeth olsen story #elizabeth olsen fanfic #Elizabeth Olsen #selfcest #gxg smut #wlw smut

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angy-grrr · 5 months ago

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I can't believe Horikoshi decided to parallel togachako with shigaraki and deku, but also with kacchan and izuku, because there are multitudes into their relationship.

Ochahimi has this obvious textual side going on for a long time that its meant to be seen along Shigaraki Tomura and Midoriya Izuku: a hurt villain and a hero who feels the need to stop the pain. Two sides of the same coin. Will they take their hand? How could they reach out? Is there any hope for the rejected? We have different scenes in which its clear Uraraka and Midoriya have this idea of saving someone who is hurt even if they are a villain, the flashbacks of their conversation before the war, but surprisingly Ochako doesn't think of it as much as Izuku in this final battle -clearly stated, is when Himiko is giving her own blood to save her and explaining how she felt like her heart was floating when Uraraka touched her. The flashback reminds us of Izuku talking about how "maybe theres no way to avoid a battle, but I cant ignore what I saw deep inside him".

But Ochako isn't happy even if she got there, even is Toga tells her she made her happy. She's tired, sad, and desperate to stop her when she cant even move.

Its difficult to analyze Izuku's emotions, but once again, we can try to work with what we currently have! As far as we know, Izuku isn't really having that much of a conflict in terms of if he should save Tenko or not -the problem was external. What would the OFA users think? He challenged them by staying true to his inner core, and they accepted him, but we don't see him struggling with the idea of him reaching out to Tenko in itself like Ochako, who actively tried to forget about Himiko.

I interpret his flashbacks to his conversation with Ochako as a reminder of the person behind the villain, because he is also feeling something else: anger. Izuku was really hurt during this battle both physically and, I would argue mostly, mentally. As he himself said, he can't forgive Shigaraki, just try to stop the crying child from hurting, and the reminder of Ochako's own goals and words are a reminder of his own intentions; lets not forget, moments later he took control after seeing Katsuki's dead body, he attacked Shigaraki in ways that would cause severe damage -like in the middle of his chest, causing a hole.

Uraraka doesn't actually try to hurt Toga, but use her martial arts training in order to both dodge and tackle her, so she can hear what she has to say. I re-read the chapters around Katsuki's revival, because I was wondering, "does Izuku remember this before or after he locked eyes with Bakugou?", and the answer is after*. The other time he thought about it was before leaving the togatsuchako battlefield, when Ochako encourages him to not worry and go get Shigaraki.

So, what I mean by this is, Ochako Uraraka and Izuku Midoriya are not the same person, and they don't feel the same way for their main villains, just like Tomura Shigaraki and Himiko Toga don't feel the same for their main heroes, and are not the same. Izuku actually feels resentment and anger for Shigaraki, he cant forgive him, but he also doesn't want to kill and punish like that; he is a savior, if he has to fight he will, but in his heart he knows what he prefers' maintaining peace, and help the ones who are vulnerable. He sees the villain, and he sees the child who grew up abused and sad; he is a sweet boy, ofc he would try to stop the crying somehow. His conflict with him now, Im guessing, is that he doesn't really feel like he actually saved him -after all, he disappeared after the last punch, and he still considered himself the leader of the league who wanted to destroy everything. He gave him his autonomy back and tried his best, but his last words and request feel like a completely different "task" than what he envisioned; it makes him think, about what heroes and villains even mean in their society, and who gets to decide those things. How can he continue with Shigaraki's legacy?

In another hand, Ochako's conflict don't come from her own moral compass, but from what she is supposed to do; before she even saw sadness in her face she thought positive things about her -she has a cute smile, she is really honest with her feelings, and isnt scared to be open with others, and she envies that. She envies the villain Himiko Toga, and relates to her, and feels connected to her. So her pain feels even more personal when it shouldn't; she isnt her family, she is someone who has tried to hurt her and her friends over and over while being so happy about it. She is weird!

Besides the thoughts about society and who helps both heroes and villains, which are really important for her character and goals, the other side of their problem is... the way Ochako was refusing to see and accept her own weirdness. Interacting with Himiko was chaotic, confusing, and left her full of doubts about herself and what she wants, because isnt she even weirder if she wants to be more like her? How can she admit those thoughts out loud? Anyone would agree that behavior is disgusting, but... she can't hate her. She can't try to punch her, or hurt her, and she never was able to no matter how much she tried to convince herself this is the only way.

Her conversation with Izuku opened her mind and heart to start accepting what she truly wants to do to Himiko instead of what she has to do as a hero. What does she want? To stop her. Her hurt. Her tears. To make her happy, and to keep her alive. She wants to see everyone happy, to get peace.

This is why her conflict is both related to Shigaraki and Deku, and Katsuki and Izuku; in one aspect its about morality, heroism, villainy and society as a whole. Himiko will question how things works constantly, and she can't ignore it. And at the same time, there's an emotional side to it; she has multiple confrontations with her, where miscommunication and holding back hurts them both. She pushes herself to be more like others, but it doesn't feel right anymore; Himiko makes her see her own self hatred, and jealousy and care grow more and more. Why can't see just do the right thing to maintain peace?

Just like Izuku was surprised by Katsuki's tears during their second fight, Ochako gets concerned by Himiko's, when she interpreted Uraraka's words as her rejecting her love -and therefore, whole self. Is not until the second war that she even realizes Toga actually loves her in the same way she loves Izuku, being a little clueless herself.

It doesnt sit right with her to do the "normal" thing, because she isn't normal at all; she thinks about making a villain happy, and how lovely her smile is. Her honesty and openness to be unapologetically herself, no matter how much others try to push her down or change her attitude; she hurts others, she knows that's wrong and agrees with that generalized sentiment... but hate her for it? She tries to do it, but it doesn't work. Inside of her heart, she knows what her emotions are telling her, and its not anger.

This is messy, my head hurts, but Im hoping I can write something better and longer in the future. I guess it makes more sense that drawing of Shigaraki, Izuku, Ochako, Himiko and Katsuki all together. I always wondered, if this is about heroism and society, Katsuki shouldn't be there, and if it is about emotions and rivalries, then it would be Tomura.

If you read this far, thank you for your time, and apologies for the confusion the writing could have caused you.

*My internet is going really slow, so im not re-reading all of the chapters after Izuku's arrival in the battlefield, so I cant 100% say this is the very first time he does remember it. Once im able to, or someone checks it for me -wether im right in my statement or not-, I'll edit it to be accurate with the material.

#grrr talking #togachako #togaocha #ochahimi #bkdk #dkbk #some notes for future me:#togachako's all might keychain being hidden + katsuki's all might card being shown but covered in blood #toga and bakugou's unconventional and loud personalities + dangerous quirks #ochako + katsuki's dreams for their futures -staying with the other for the rest of their lives #the unfulfilled promises due to the tragedy of war #their loyalty to the other once they realize they need to confront their weaknesses n comfort #izuku associates toga with shigaraki which is way he cant understand her feelings #he sees togachako fight in a similar light as his fight -morality heroes n empathy #thats why he can only think about another heroic example -all might- in response to her feelings #himiko and katsuki hate to be pitied and consider the others do during their fights #himiko and katsuki refuse to consider themselves villains even if others see them like that #“dont you dare pity me!!” when the others try to reach out #“you are dead meat!”

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justwritedreams · 1 year ago

Text

Surviving The Game | Mark Lee

Idol Mark x Investigator Reader

Word count: 11.368 Genre: Drama, angst, action. Author: maari Warnings: Mentions of stalking, guns and very sensitive topics with a happy ending bc you know me Note: I think I need to make it clear that this has nothing to do with yandere and personally I don't agree with stalker attitudes or anything like that. If you are going through this in real life, don't be silent, this is not normal. Btw this it’s just a fiction so don't come after me. Summary: An sasaeng turns Mark's life a nightmare and the only solution it's bring the police into this case. And it's your job to make him feel safe again.

⪢ NCT Masterlist

“To be more than a conqueror You have to learn to enjoy the pain If you want to survive the game” “Y/N, come with me, please.”

“Of course, boss.” Y/N stood up from her chair, ready to grab her vest.

“Without the vest.” the boss warned and she looked at him confused but left her protection behind.

She walked beside him anxiously, waiting for him to say something but it didn't happen until they were in the car. No vests, no flashy vehicles. Like normal people.

"Where are we going?" she asked as soon as the boss started the car.

“Visiting a victim." Y/N frowned, she had never done this type of work. Noticing her confusion, the boss decided to explain. “It's a delicate and completely confidential case, it involves a large company that wants a silent investigation.”

She knew how to keep a secret but the anxiety of knowing what it was all about was eating her alive.

"Understood." she replied and silence returned to them both until they reached their destination.

Y/N wanted to know more about the details but she knew that the boss wouldn't talk about the case on the street or while they were going up the elevator, after identifying themselves to the doorman. She was attentive to everything and when they arrived on the floor, they didn't have to wait long after the boss rang the bell.

A man probably the boss's age, if not younger, answered the door and bowed as he faced the boss.

"Detective." the man greeted him and the boss bowed in the same way, entering shortly afterwards.

Y/N did the same and noticed that the man was worried, she walked in behind the boss and felt several pairs of eyes staring at her.

She didn't usually get nervous, she liked to investigate and was one of the reasons why she joined the police but she confessed that now it was different. She didn't expect four extremely handsome young men to be in the room, staring intently at her and the boss.

She was used to police officers of all ages, so she was struck by the beauty of mere civilians. She had never seen so many handsome men since University.

The four of them got up from the couch and bowed, they seemed more anxious and nervous than Y/N, and she tried not to show how affected she was by the looks.

“Detective, this is Taeyong, Yuta, Johnny and Mark.” the oldest introduced, indicating who was who and Y/N took a good look at the boys.

But the last one caught her attention.

He appeared to be the youngest and was visibly shaken, huge black dots under his eyes that were shaking constantly, but beneath his pale, worried face, he carried an innocent, almost childlike look. Although he wasn't that much younger than Y/N.

“Detective Kim, this is my partner Y/N.” the boss announced and all eyes stopped on her.

Y/N smiled slightly, holding her gaze for longer with Mark, who quickly lowered his gaze.

“Very well, tell us from the beginning what happened.” the boss asked and the oldest signaled for everyone to sit down.

Y/N and the boss sat across from the four young boys who looked at Mark before starting.

“We were returning from a recording that lasted all day, when we got out of the car a woman approached us, she wanted to talk to Mark.” Y/N's eyes met Mark's and he looked embarrassed, the boss pointed for her to write down what Taeyong was saying and she took her phone out of her pocket. “At first we thought she was a random fan who had just passed by on the street and saw us getting down, but after we entered, the doorman announced that the woman had not left the sidewalk.”

Y/N cocked her head to the side when she heard the word fan. Were they famous? Why hadn't the boss warned her about this?

“She stood still for a long time, looking at the building trying to find our floor.” Yuta continued.

“That’s when she started screaming.” Mark spoke quietly and Y/N stopped taking notes to look at him, his small voice made her feel sorry for him.

It was clear that this had affected him in a bad way, it was actually sad.

“We spoke to our manager.” Johnny pointed to the older man who was standing next to them with his arms crossed. “And we didn’t do anything but record it for proof.”

“What was she shouting?” Y/N asked and they looked at Mark, who shook his head and looked down.

"Nonsenses. That Mark couldn’t go without talking to his girlfriend, that it wasn’t right to leave her outside in the cold.” Tayeong spoke and it was at that moment that everyone had the same expression, anger.

Y/N tried to contain her grimace and went back to taking notes.

Reminder: the girl was crazy.

“But the next day she was in the same place we were and the next day too, and now she’s going to where we are.” Yuta showed the discomfort he felt and it seemed like he wasn't the only one.

“It even seems like she knows our schedule better than our own manager.” Johnny commented.

“How long has this been going on?” the boss asked.

"3 weeks?" Taeyong asked Mark and he just nodded, while stared into nothing.

Now Y/N could understand the case.

It made perfect sense for the police to go to their house in disguise, if the idols went to the police station or if they knew that a detective had gone there, it would attract a lot of attention.

From the media, from the fans, from who knows how many stalkers they had. It would be detrimental to the case.

“And when did the messages start?” the boss asked and Y/N looked at him.

Messages?

“A few days before she showed up.” Mark responded and put his hands together, stirring constantly.

“Can you show us?” the boss asked and Mark agreed, taking his phone out of his pocket and moving it around until he found what he was looking for, he handed it to the boss and as Y/N was closer, she held the phone.

The boss approached to read it and Y/N's eyes widened at the amount.

The number was already blocked, but on the same day Mark had received 52 messages.

‘I know where you are’

‘Why don’t you come out and talk?’

‘I see your face in the window’

‘Are you looking for me?’

'You are so cute'

There were some of them, Y/N noticed that the girl was really watching Mark closely and every second as she told him exactly what he was doing.

Psychopath, she thought.

Y/N looked at Mark once again. He was sad, dejected and tired, she could see that. It was clear as water.

Cases about stalkers were not rare, but she had never been at the forefront of the investigations. But now, knowing the story, she could only feel anger and disgust.

How could someone who claimed to be a fan do that?

“Have you ever thought about carrying armed security guards?” she asked and that caught everyone by surprise.

The boys looked at each other, looking for an answer while the manager scratched his head.

“It wouldn’t be fair to the fans.” Mark replied and for the first time held Y/N’s gaze.

She didn't want to notice how welcoming yet sad his brown eyes were, but she did.

“And is it fair to you?” she returned the question.

Okay, she understood the fame part but she couldn't understand why their safety didn't come first, especially since that girl was a perfect sasaeng.

They were obsessed and would stop at nothing. Someone needed to set limits.

“The company thinks it is more prudent for the police to investigate first and then we will see what can be done.” the manager said and Y/N wanted to snort.

She knew what to do, locking the crazy woman in a mental hospital was the solution.

“That’s what we’re here for.” the boss assured, resting his hand on Y/N's shoulder who was still looking at Mark. “We will do whatever is necessary.”

Y/N and the boss talked a little more with the boys so they could have something to start, as well as writing down the numbers the stalker was using to send messages to Mark.

Yes, numbers.

She was pushy, in Y/N's words she was annoying.

As soon as they left, after a long conversation that Mark apparently didn't want to have, they returned to the car with a plan in mind.

Well, Y/N had a rather radical plan.

“You know we’re going to have to check his phone, right?” Y/N asked her boss as soon as they left the street of the building. “The girl probably hacked it, based on her history.”

“I didn’t want to say that at first and scare him.”

She laughed, humorless.

“Boss, the guy is already scared!”

"I know. What did you find of her?” he asked and Y/N slid the file onto her phone.

After looking up her history in every database the police had access to, she found some interesting things.

“She was adopted when she was 6 years old. Her academic record is not the best, she went through several schools in a very short period, she must not have had time to create a bond with someone, her teachers made some notes over the years about her being quiet, introverted and extremely inattentive because she was too busy kissing posters of actors and singers.” Y/N saw the boss staring at her with a disbelieving look. "What? It’s written here!”

The boss laughed, nodding his head.

“I know what you think about stalkers.”

“That they are unbalanced people who deserve to spend the rest of their lives in a psychiatric clinic, am I wrong?”

“No, but it’s not right either.” the boss pondered, searching for the best words. “Cases like this involve a lot more than it seems, Y/N.”

"What does that mean?"

“I mean, you need to see beyond your outrage about this issue. Or do you think I didn’t realize you got mad when they started talking about the messages?” Y/N was silent. “You will be a good detective in the future and that is why I have an obligation to train you until then, I want you to be the best, but for that you will need to act more with reason than with emotion.”

[...]

Although the detective was in charge of the case, it was Y/N who was solving everything, especially because the boss was busier than usual. So he confided in her everything he said about this specific case.

That was why Y/N had gone to the group's dorm again, now she knew about Mark's professional life and how the group was famous, it made sense why stalkers showed up thinking they knew the boys closely.

However, a face that Y/N hadn't seen yet answered the door in confusion, so she held up her badge.

"Goodnight. Investigator Y/N, is Mark here?” she asked subtly and he nodded, giving her space to enter.

“Milk!” he shouted and even though she didn't know anything about him, she could tell that he must be one of the group's vocalists, by his powerful voice.

It was time for him to close the door and turn to face her, Mark appeared running and visibly tired, it was no wonder after all at that time of night they should have been sleeping due to their busy schedule.

“Officer, good night!” he greeted her and looked at her expectantly.

“How are you, Mark?”

"Good." she didn't believe the answer, not after the sad eyes gave it away. Y/N would have continued to hold his gaze if the boy who opened the door hadn't interrupted the brief moment. “This is Haechan, I guess you guys didn’t meet last week, did you?” he introduced and the boy smiled at Y/N.

"Pleasure."

"Equally!" he replied happily and the room fell into an awkward silence.

"Well, I'm sorry to come unannounced but I came to update you on the investigation." Y/N spoke and Mark moved in front of Haechan, pointing to the sofa.

"Please sit down."

She did so, taking off the backpack she was carrying on her back and placing it on her lap.

"First of all, your phone, where is it?"

Mark looked confused at Haechan who was on the same page, he pointed to one of the rooms.

"Charging, why?" He asked, curious.

"I'm going to need a favor. Two in fact." she saw Mark nod and then continued. "Bring your phone over here and cover all the cameras, you two will have to be silent at all time."

Mark looked complicit at Haechan who felt the investigator's eyes switch between him and Mark. The two agreed.

"Why?" Mark asked and saw her become reluctant.

"I need to make sure that what I suspect is happening." She explained without giving many details and received a shy ok from Mark, who got up and went to get his phone.

A few minutes later, while Haechan was silent and looked like he was going to explode, Mark returned. Y/N noticed that he had turned the phone's cover over and the rear cameras were covered, while the front was covered by a Band aid.

Creative, she thought.

Mark handed the phone to Y/N who quickly took the notebook out of her backpack and turned it on, Haechan approached Mark and the two remained standing next to the investigator while she worked tirelessly on the keyboard, concentrated enough to get Mark's attention .

He shouldn't have noticed her face so much, the way her lips held a firm line as she pressed them together, but he did.

In an absurd and boring silence, as Haechan thought, minutes passed until her expression changed.

From concentration to anger.

Y/N quickly turned off Mark's phone and got up from the couch almost at the same time.

"Officer��?" Mark caught her attention, and she looked at him seriously.

"What I thought was right." Mark looked at her expectantly, ready to understand what she meant but it wasn't that easy. She didn't want to be insensitive, so she took a deep breath before speaking. "She hacked your phone, she had access to any and all of your personal information."

Y/N saw Mark react in a common way, complete astonishment and despair. But even though it was normal, she hated seeing the vulnerability in him.

"How? When?" he asked, astonished.

"It is possible?" Haechan questioned, worried about his friend. Mark was whiter than usual, he looked like he was going to faint.

Y/N nodded and placed her hands on her hips.

"Unfortunately, yes. Did you leave your phone somewhere or access any unusual links?"

Mark reached deep into his memory.

"No, I don't access links that easily and I don't take my eyes off my phone. Well, only on the plane when I'm sleeping."

Y/N felt like a click appeared in her head.

So that was it.

"But she would never have access to my flight." He laughed in disbelief and saw Y/N look at him not so confidently. "Right?"

She sighed.

“Are you sure you never saw her before that night?” Y/N crossed her arms.

She had to have left some clue, everyone always did.

"Never!" Mark responded promptly and looked at his friend who was holding his hand to his face and staring into space, thoughtfully.

“Thinking back, I recognized her from somewhere. I remember seeing that face behind the scenes of our recordings.” Haechan replied, leaving Y/N on alert.

“You didn't tell me that before.” Mark accused and Haechan shrugged.

“I wasn't sure, but now that the police officer said it, it makes sense to me. She kept looking in our direction.”

Y/N took a deep breath, feeling her blood boil. With the case, she had analyzed other reports of sasaengs and the rumors she had heard about agencies allowing them to infiltrate artists' agendas because they had money was disturbing and revolting.

However, this theory seemed to make more sense than before.

"What do I do?" Mark asked, visibly desperate and Y/N raised her hand to rest on his shoulder but stopped in her tracks.

It would be too inappropriate.

That's why she put her hair behind her ear instead of physically comforting the boy.

"I suggest you buy another phone and don't answer any suspicious calls from an unknown number, always keep your phone in your front pocket."

Mark sighed, he looked so tired that Y/N sympathized with his suffering, it was the final reason she needed to speak with determination.

"She'll pay for this, I promise you."

[...]

Y/N closed the soaked umbrella while banging her fist against the door, that routine was becoming normal and she felt a mix of sensations run through her body waiting for the door to be opened.

She smiled slightly when she saw Mark's clean, confused face and his messy hair, but when she looked down at his bare torso, shock took over her body, she blinked a few times and her jaw dropped as she tried to find some words to say but there was nothing.

Y/N didn't want to notice the way that, even though he was so thin, Mark had a defined body. Well defined. It wasn't surprising, after all he was also a dancer, but she couldn't control her body to contain her stuttered speech.

“Ah shit, sorry!” she heard Mark speak after looking at his own body, finding himself only in his sweatpants while the guitar was in his other hand, Y/N looked at his face and saw that his cheeks took on a pink tone.

“It is…” Y/N cleared her throat as her voice came out weak. "It’s ok."

It was more than fine, she thought.

"Please come in." Mark gave her space and Y/N did so, moving next to Mark's hot body who looked anywhere but at her face. She left her shoes at the door, along with her umbrella. “I'm just going to…” he pointed to his body and she nodded frantically, still not knowing what to say, and followed him to the living room.

Mark practically ran with the guitar in his hand and Y/N put her lips together in a thin line as she watched Mark's back but when her eyes went to the waistband of his pants, she turned her head and with her eyes widened in surprise by the thoughts not at all pure that invaded her head, she lightly slapped her own cheek as if she managed to expel the thoughts.

Put yourself together, she thought.

“Sorry, I have this habit of playing the guitar like that.” she took a deep breath before turning to face Mark again, she was disappointed to see him without his guitar and in his gray hooded sweatshirt but she tried not to show it, the boy was embarrassed enough.

She didn't want to make the situation more uncomfortable than it already was.

“Don’t apologize, please. It’s me who should apologize for coming unannounced, again.”

Mark shook his head and smiled, crossing his arms.

“Apparently you have some more news about the case.” Mark tried to sound subtle but Y/N could find the anxiety in his voice, that was why she took a deep breath feeling her stomach churn with anxiety so she decided to be direct.

"We have the mandate ready." Mark smiled hopefully and was ready to say something when she interrupted him. "But the prosecution knew about your case in advance."

"And?" Mark asked, confused, his frown made him look cute.

"And they want to use this as an example to pressure Congress to pass stronger laws against stalkers."

Mark looked down, the gears in his brain seeming to grind slowly.

"Use as an example?" He questioned and she nodded. "A public trial. Is that it?"

Y/N bit her lip when she saw Mark's very serious expression.

"Yes. The prosecutor believes that with public opinion, especially international opinion, congress will have great motivation for stalkers to be treated as-"

"Wait, officer." Mark interrupted her, raising his hand. "I'm a layman on the subject but this means I'll have to testify in front of the jury. In person."

Y/N scratched the back of her head, feeling her heart sink when she saw Mark's pained expression.

"Yes, Mark. Your testimony at the trial is the main key, just testifying to the police is not enough to convict, it also needs to be in court."

Mark laughed in disbelief and ran his hand over his face, and then through his hair where he ruffled it hard.

He was visibly upset, Y/N understood the reasons but it was the only way to end it.

"Is not fair." he spoke and kept his gaze fixed on Y/N, who felt her shoulders sag.

It was true but he had no choice.

The investigations were practically over, she had nothing else to do.

Now it was with the prosecutor's office.

Mark shook his head and walked past Y/N who just followed him with her gaze, watching him go to the front door angrily, looking for some sneakers.

"Where are you going?" Y/N asked when she saw him put on the pair but had no answer, as Mark opened the door in the next second and walked out of the dorm in long strides.

Y/N ran to put on her shoes and follow Mark, finding him at the end of the hallway.

"Mark!" She called out to him but all she got was silence, which made her run after him again.

He walked out of the dorm and didn't even care about the rain outside as he took long steps down the street, Y/N didn't think about anything other than following him.

"Mark, wait!" She spoke loudly because the heavy rain had already soaked Mark's body and hers, her heavy hair fell in front of her face. "Hey!" she hurried and grabbed his arm, putting all the strength she had into making him stop.

Mark did it, suddenly, and Y/N almost ran into his body for it but she wished she hadn't because now she was staring into Mark's red eyes.

He looked broken inside and out, even in the heavy rain you could see the tears. Y/N felt an uncontrollable urge to protect him.

"What?" he shouted, making her fall silent.

She didn't know what to say, she just wanted to hug him tight enough to ease that suffering.

"I just…" he reluctantly and Y/N kept her eyes fixed on his, encouraging him to continue. "I just wanted, once, just once, to have a normal life like everyone else."

"And what would you do if you were a normal person?" she questioned and saw Mark look intensely into her eyes until he moved down to her mouth.

Y/N didn't have time for any more questions, she just saw Mark approach her in a blur, grab both sides of her face tightly and pull her towards him, their mouths colliding in an almost desperate way.

She widened her eyes when Mark's cold, wet lips took hers, letting a sound of surprise be muffled by the kiss, but Mark's palms covering her skin and his face so close to hers was enough for Y/N to give in to the brief desire at that moment.

She closed her eyes and her hands found Mark's shoulder, feeling her whole body light up with the way his lips moved between hers, tilting her head the kiss became deeper and was the perfect excuse for Mark's tongue seeks hers, bringing his chest closer to hers, their bodies emanating a heat that not even the cold rain was able to stifle.

Y/N sighed when her tongue began to dance in the same fast rhythm as Mark's and she felt his hand hold the back of her neck firmly, sending shivers throughout her body.

The rain, although it made the kiss much wetter and with more saliva than normal, seemed to wash away any kind of insecurity or fear on both sides.

Y/N didn't restrict herself from feeling everything she wanted. She had been attracted to Mark since the first day, and even though her rational side screamed that it was dangerous, she couldn't control the way her heart warmed much more than her body that was touched by him. She felt a peace, a strong connection that she had never felt before.

And Mark, he finally managed to put all his problems aside, it was like he was in another world. One in which Y/N wasn't the police officer who was just there to investigate the case, it went much further. He felt safe and normal.

When they separated, breathing heavy and missing from their lungs, they faced each other once more. Without saying anything, Mark just caressed Y/N's cheek that he was holding and watched her, her lips swollen and red, parted and beautiful.

Y/N kept her hands on Mark's shoulder and lost herself in the current of his eyes, as if it were a black hole that was pulling her. That day, she had promised that she would protect him from everything.

Even if she had to with her own life.

[...]

Y/N sneezed once again as she entered the police station, receiving a greeting from one of her colleagues in which she responded with just one hand.

The headache, the runny nose, the lack of sleep, and being woken up late had everything to do with last night, but none of that mattered to the boss when he saw her.

"You come with me." he pointed at her and continued walking outside the district, she just took a deep breath and turned around, following the detective to the parking lot.

When they got into the car, she dropped her suitcase at her feet and sneezed again.

"Shit." she complained, closing her eyes for a while.

“Did you catch the rain yesterday?” the boss asked and she opened her eyes instantly.

She didn't want to be so suspicious, she hadn't even been able to digest what had happened last night, so she just nodded as she put on the seat belt.

“I told you to use your umbrella.”

She laughed, rolling her eyes theatrically.

"Thank you, dad." the detective laughed at the sarcastic tone, before throwing the tablet that Y/N only noticed he was holding at that moment onto her lap and starting the car.

If it were any other police officer, would never talk with the detective like that. But Y/N was intimate enough for that, and sometimes he acted like he was her father.

"What is that?" she asked, holding up the tablet.

“Unlock the screen and you’ll know where we’re going.” he warned, without taking his attention off the streets and Y/N did as he said.

When she read the title of the article, she felt her blood run cold.

“Lee Mark accused of drugging and abusing minor”

Y/N swallowed hard and wrinkled her nose as she read the article quickly, closing the fists of her other hand so hard that her nails dug into her skin but she didn't care about the pain.

That article was even worse.

And the worst part, it was all a lie. False.

The alleged victim’s “statement” on a social network was too clear for her, in addition to not making any sense, it had only one objective.

“It was the stalker.” she spoke through gritted teeth, trying to control her breathing.

She had no doubts. There was no one other than her who could lie about something so serious.

“I asked intelligence to track the account, of course, she already deleted everything.”

Y/N laughed humorlessly.

“Obviously, her goal was to just throw shit at the media.” she replied angrily.

“And she did, the phone was the same one you identified as the one that had access to Mark’s.”

Great, more evidence against her.

“Can we arrest her now?” Y/N looked at the boss who had a serious expression.

“No, this morning the phone was found.” he glanced at Y/N and took a deep breath before continuing. “On the Han River. I sent a car to her house and the doorman said she hadn’t been there for two days.”

Y/N glared angrily at her boss. It wasn't with him but with the stalker, she wasn't enjoying that Tom and Jerry game.

They should have arrested her last night.

“She knows we’re after her.” she concluded.

“If your theory that she infiltrates the group’s staff is right, then yes.”

“Boss, a lie cannot be proven.” she said, indignantly.

“No, but a true can. That’s what we have to do.” he reminded her and Y/N took a deep breath, looking back at the street.

Anxiety took over her body when she realized that they were close to the company building, very different from the path to Mark's dorm that she was used to, but all she could think about was the boy.

He must have been desperate, much more than yesterday.

Although she should be thinking about her work, it was difficult to control the shiver as she remembered last night and the kiss.

That line was dangerous but it felt so right, Y/N didn't regret kissing Mark because it had only incited the fire of justice within her even more. She needed to help him more than ever, protect him in any way.

“Will SM let the police in through the front door?” Y/N asked as soon as they got out of the car and the boss nodded.

“You can’t even imagine how desperate they are to solve this case.”

Ah, she could actually imagine it.

They entered the building, just showing their badge and entry was authorized, they went to the elevator towards the meeting room where one of the employees had informed them that they would be waiting for them both.

The boss knocked on the door and someone spoke loudly for them to come in, Y/N felt her hands sweat as she entered the room and her eyes searched Mark's, finding him sitting in one of the chairs.

He seemed surprised to see her there but held her gaze, making her heart skip a beat in her chest and memories of last night flooded her head. She could still feel the texture of Mark's lips and the taste of him.

However, she blinked several times when the company's CEO suggested that they sit down, she followed the boss and ended up sitting facing Mark who couldn't take his eyes off her.

She then discovered that in addition to the CEO, SM's lawyer and Mark's lawyer were there, as well as the head of the public relations department.

The meeting had a single objective, to find a way out of that maze.

And Y/N observed everything quietly, listening to the discussions about how they would deal with that without tarnishing the company's image, something that made her raise her eyebrow.

Mark's image should be a priority, or rather, his safety.

She looked back at Mark, he looked not only bothered but irritated too, he kept rubbing his hands while fixing his eyes on a random spot on the table.

“If Mark is sued, we won’t be able to continue with the contract-”

Y/N rolled her eyes surreptitiously. But there was no way she could be listening to that.

"Excuse me." she interrupted, raising her hand and got everyone's attention. “I have an idea, we can set a trap for the girl.”

Y/N's boss looked at her curiously.

"What did you think?"

“It's clear that she is doing everything she can to ruin Mark's life, and I think everyone is aware of that. But you can hush up the case of the false report made on social media.”

"As?" Mark's lawyer asked.

“Release an official note, say Mark has an alibi.” she looked glancing at Mark who had his eyes narrowed at her, trying to follow her reasoning.

“This won’t help without proof.” the head of the public relations department said and she shook her head.

“It will if you say he was with his girlfriend.” she replied with conviction and saw everyone's eyes widen.

"What?"

“But that’s a lie.” Mark spoke a little louder and Y/N looked at him. "I don't have a girlfriend."

She suppressed her smile, she didn't know why but she was happy to hear that from him.

The situation between them would have been much more dangerous if they had kissed while he had a girlfriend...

“Do you want us to defend ourselves from an exposure like this, exposing ourselves even more?” The CEO asked and she nodded.

“Listen to me, if you confirm that Mark is in a relationship and that you hid it to protect his image, in addition to you coming out of this situation as sensible, this will attract the stalker.”

“She’s right.” Y/N's boss agreed, drawing everyone's attention to himself. “The girl has been missing for two days, no one knows where she is. If she believes Mark has a girlfriend, she will come running back to find out who the girl is.”

Everyone was silent, pondering.

“And then, we took action. We take her to jail and the prosecution does its part.”

Y/N looked at everyone's faces, trying to make her confidence convince everyone that the plan was ideal.

They needed to attract the stalker somehow and she couldn't imagine a better scenario than if she believed that Mark already had someone, the girl would change the focus of the threats to the supposed girlfriend.

She faced Mark last, he didn't seem so comfortable with her suggestion but she managed to see something in his eyes that she hadn't seen before.

Hope.

[...]

Y/N wanted to hit herself, she stared at the wall with focus thinking about how she could hit her head without passing out.

Watching Mark after the dating scandal came out to ensure his integrity and watching the stalker appear was perfect.

She had the perfect idea.

Mainly because Mark had been removed from his activities for a few days, the official statement said it was for personal reasons, but Y/N knew that it was all part of the plan to catch the stalker in the act and increase her sentence.

A great idea that the boss had approved.

As long as Y/N kept Mark safe, that she escorted him, and she watched him all night.

Spending all her time outside his apartment doing what exactly? Thinking about the kiss they shared!

Even on duty, with the gun on her waist and her hand nearby in case of any eventuality, she couldn't stop thinking about his lips, no matter how hard she tried.

She didn't know if it was because she had a personal connection to the case and had just felt the need to protect Mark but that kiss moved her in a way that no other had.

It was more than affection.

Mark's sad eyes and the way he looked so small and defenseless in that situation made her feel the need to not only protect him, but also help him in some way.

And as wrong as it was, since she couldn't get involved with the victims, she wanted to do something for him besides work.

To make him feel better, even to vent to someone because she more than anyone knew what an extremely stressful situation it was.

Y/N turned her head and all her attention when she heard the door to his house open slowly, making the noise echo through the silent hallway, her palms were already sweaty before she even saw Mark's shy face.

His dark hair fell into his eyes that were looking for anywhere to look but her eyes.

"It's… um… good evening, officer." His voice came out so shy that she would have smiled if she didn't feel so embarrassed.

The air was tense between them, it was palpable.

"Good evening, Mark." she returned it with a wry smile. "Do you need something?"

"No." He shook his head incessantly, he seemed to search for the right words while holding the door. "Listen, are you going to be out there for too long?"

Y/N sighed, of course he was feeling uncomfortable.

"Until the patrol finds some movement around the perimeter." she explained.

That was the deal.

Mark took a deep breath and raised his eyes to look at her.

"You are not hungry?" The question caught Y/N off guard and she frowned, not understanding. "It's just that I made a lot of food…" he pointed inside his own apartment. "I forgot the members wouldn't be here." He smiled shyly, scratching the back of his head and she watched him carefully.

The police had been very specific, keeping Mark in the dorm was a necessity but they weren't going to put the other boys in danger.

So they all went to a hotel that night.

"I don’t want to bother." She was being sincere, although her stomach rejoiced at the invitation.

"No, no. It won't be uncomfortable." Mark replied promptly, shrugging his shoulders. "It's not against what was stipulated, you'll still watch me... just from inside."

Y/N pondered, a huge part of her saying to accept it soon but until she remembered that she was on duty, working to keep him safe.

Except, well, Mark wasn't wrong. He had a point.

"I don't know…"

"Please." Mark's eyes shone with guilt and she surrendered right then and there. "I feel responsible for you being out there alone when you could be somewhere you really wanted."

She felt offended but didn't take it personally, Mark didn't really know her so he didn't know that she was there of her own free will, it was her duty.

"Don't say that, I don't want you to feel that way." She took a step forward, her fingers itching to touch his shoulder, but stopped where she was. "It's not your fault, Mark, it never was!"

She spoke with conviction and he remained silent, only to nod his head shortly afterwards.

"I'll feel a lot better if you at least come in for a drink of water."

She suppressed a smile and Mark gave her space to enter, without hesitation she did so.

The house was much warmer than the hallway she was in before, she took off her boots at the door and walked in, hearing Mark close the door behind her and feeling him watching her.

"Do you want to eat? Seriously, I made a lot of food." He walked ahead and pointed to where Y/N imagined the kitchen to be, a clear invitation for her to go.

In silence she entered and saw that Mark had actually made a lot of food, enough for the whole night. Even though she was about to deny it, her stomach betrayed her and growled loudly the instant she saw the food.

It looked very delicious.

Although there was one thing missing.

"I know, the egg needs to be fried, right." He laughed softly and Y/N looked at him.

Had she been watching the food for so long?

"I’ll just eat it as is." She replied and Mark approached the stove.

"No, it's okay. I'll do it in a second." He offered and she smiled gratefully.

However, Y/N's smile faded when she saw that Mark looked more like he was about to plant a bomb than fry an egg.

Mark took what he needed a little confused, he muttered quietly to himself and she couldn't understand but she imagined it was the steps of the process.

When one hand was free, he scratched the back of his head and looked at the items on the kitchen counter, as if he wanted to ensure he had gotten everything needed.

This was taking a lot longer than a second.

"Mark." she called after him, stifling a laugh.

He looked at her, even more confused and a little shy.

"Yes?"

"Do you know how to fry eggs?" she crossed her arms and saw him frown.

"Yeah!" he responded promptly, scratching the back of his head again. "You just can't guarantee that it's edible."

Y/N put her hand over her mouth to stifle her laugh, he also laughed a little more shyly.

"Alright, I'll do it."

Y/N approached the stove as Mark opened and closed his mouth to retort, but she just raised her eyebrow and reached out to hold the spatula he was holding.

He ended up giving in willingly and their fingers ended up touching briefly, making them both look at each other at the same moment.

Mark walked away, shyly while Y/N cleared her throat trying not to show how much Mark's eyes affected her.

"Do you want a tip?" she asked, to dispel the disturbing silence and he nodded. "You need to get the oil hot before you add the egg."

Mark paid attention as she announced what she was going to do in a step-by-step that seemed much simpler than what he did.

She took the opportunity and made him an egg too, Mark helped put together the dish and they were quickly sitting on the stools ready to eat.

"Seeing you cook, it seemed easy to do." Mark pointed to the egg, laughing and she mirrored the same reaction.

Catching her attention a little on his wide and genuine smile.

"Because it's easy." She noticed and started to eat.

"For me it's much more complicated than it really is, officer." he replied, watching her expression as she ate.

"But you cook well." She spoke after chewing everything. "This is a feast compared to the hot dogs I eat on the street."

Mark frowned.

"Don't you eat real food when you work, officer?"

She looked at him. She didn't like it when Mark called her an officer often, it seemed like every time he said that word a rift grew between them.

"Define real food."

Mark laughed, he didn't need the answer because she had already said it.

They ate some more in silence, although she noticed Mark's uneasiness.

"Can I ask you a question, officer?" He spoke quietly.

"Y/N."

Mark looked at her confused.

"Huh?"

"Y/N. That's my name." He raised his eyebrows and she smiled slightly. "Instead of just officer."

Mark smirked.

"Y/N."

She had to control the huge smile she wanted to give, she had enjoyed hearing him say her name.

"Of course you can." She moved away from the plate, turning all her attention to him. "Go ahead"

Mark took a deep breath and looked at her deeply.

"Why did you become a police officer?"

She swallowed hard, she didn't imagine he would ask her that right away.

She tried to hide how much that question had weighed on her shoulders and frowned.

"And why did you become an idol?"

He shook his head, his eyes shining with stubbornness.

"I asked first." He remembered and she nodded, looking down at her hands that were in her lap.

"I know how you feel." She shifted on the stool and looked somewhere in the kitchen, avoiding Mark's eyes. "With this stalker thing. You're not the only one who has someone chasing you everywhere."

Y/N suddenly fell silent, her mind flooding with the memories she had forced herself to forget.

"Ex boyfriend?" Mark asked reluctantly.

Y/N looked at him again, smiling sadly.

"I wish it were." She shook her head and he looked even more confused. "I had a childhood friend, we were inseparable in kindergarten but I ended up having to change cities shortly after and lost contact. In elementary school, on a random day, she showed up at the same school, she had enrolled there. At first I thought it was great because I didn't know what had happened to her so I would be able to have that friendship again." She took a deep breath before continuing. "But I had grown up, met other people, had new friends... and she didn't seem to like it very much. She was jealous of all my friends, she said she liked the same guys as me. I started to think it was strange, but it was only in middle school that I started to feel weird around her. She did everything she could to be near me, all the time, as if… as if…"

"You had an intimacy that no one has ever had." Mark concluded and she nodded.

She laughed, sadly.

"Yeah, but it wasn't like that. She wasn't my best friend, the memory I had of her was very different, and her jealousy bothered me a lot so I tried to stay away."

"But it did not work." He guessed.

"Yes, it seemed that the more I moved away, the more she tried to be close to me. She even followed me home several times, sending me messages in the early hours of the morning wanting to question me because I had posted photos with my friends." she sighed. “She said I was the reason she self-harmed.”

Mark's jaw dropped and he watched her helpfully.

"She sent me sensitive photos of slit wrists every time and I always felt guilty. But the messages started to be more frequent and she started threatening me, threatening my family, saying that I had told her to kill herself , although it wasn't like that, I had just warned her and tried to help that if she continued doing that she would end up killing herself. I was so angry because I didn't think there was a reason for that. Until I had enough."

"How?" He crossed his arms and she then realized that Mark was really interested in the story, so she continued.

"I joined the police academy, I was always afraid that she would do something against my family so I thought I could protect them if I was a police officer. Then I decided to change cities, I wanted her focus to change, so she wouldn't need to focus on what to do against my family. I left all social media, I never showed up in the city again."

"And then?"

Y/N scratched her head, this was part she had never told anyone, not even her family. She then got up from the stool and crossed her arms, turning her back to Mark and heading into the living room.

He followed her, he was curious and also worried, but he felt relieved somehow. He had identified with her story.

"And then I ended up here." She opened her arms, turning to look at him. "I was feeling safe enough, until…"

Y/N looked down at the floor, running her hand over her forehead while Mark didn't take his eyes off her, a little reluctant.

"Until?" He urged her to continue but seeing that she was still silent, he took a step towards her.

"Until I was assigned to handle your case." She raised her gaze again to Mark's, seeing him change his expression to one of surprise. "I said I know how you feel because it's the truth. I understand the fear you're feeling."

Y/N saw Mark's eyes falter so she took a step forward, getting closer to him.

"I know it's desperate and that you will do everything to protect the ones you love because that's exactly what I'm doing." Mark looked away and, unable to contain himself, she brought her hand to his face, making him regain eye contact. "If the trial appears on TV, if it's public, she'll find me."

"So you think I shouldn't testify?" he asked quietly, his shoulders so shrugged that it gave him a very fragile image, one that Y/N didn't like.

She shook her head and moved closer to him, cupping the other side of Mark's face with her free hand.

"Quite the opposite. You need to testify." she spoke firmly and he stared at her lips. "You have to end this or else you'll spend the rest of your life hiding."

“But what about you, Y/N?” he asked, worried. "What will happen to you?"

She sighed. Even though she knew that maybe her life would become a nightmare, that wasn't what she was worried about.

It was Mark's life that was at risk, he might never do what he loved again because of a false accusation and if she had the power to stop that from happening, she would strive to help him.

"I'm finally going to put an end to this story. I'm going to stop being the scared, terrified victim." she replied with certainty, a conviction that took Mark's words away.

He just stood there staring at her determined face, he saw a strength in Y/N's eyes that infected him.

He had to do that not only for him or the people he loved but also for everyone else who was going through the same situation.

If he had a chance to start a change, he couldn't let fear stop him.

And as strange as it was, she gave him a security he had never felt before.

Then his eyes dropped to Y/N's lips, not wanting to hold back anymore, Mark moved closer to touch them softly with his own lips.

She slowly closed her eyes at the light contact and had to force herself not to let out a sigh.

However, when Mark hugged her waist and brought her closer while his lips moved skillfully against hers, she simply gave in.

She forgot everything. Her past, her history, what she was doing there, what her mission was.

Mark took her out of orbit and it was intoxicating, all she wanted was to stay there with his warm lips moving slowly against hers, appreciating every inch and tasting her without rushing.

From Mark's face, her hands went to the back of his head and hair, moving his head to the side so that the kiss intensified.

Mark didn't stop the kiss until Y//N hit her back against a hard surface, it was only with surprise that they separated to realize that they were glued to the glass door of the balcony.

She laughed softly, followed by Mark's laugh as he raised his hand to her cheek. Y/N just watched him, with wobbly legs and dropped her hands to his shoulders while Mark caressed her face.

They didn't need words, the only thing that was exchanged there was complicity.

Mark's sideways smile indicated before he tilted his head that he intended to continue what they had started.

If it weren't for the ringing on his phone, notifying him of a new message. He took a deep breath before walking away.

"Y/N. Over."

Still a little dizzy from the lack of air, she reached for the communicator on her waist, watching Mark walk to get the phone from the sofa.

"I am here." She responded, forcing her voice to come out steady.

She saw Mark using his phone with his back to her.

"We saw some strange movement around the back of the building."

Y/N's entire body became alert, her rigid posture appearing again.

"What?"

Y/N didn't take her eyes off Mark, he was motionless.

"It was near some trash cans so we walked around the street to be sure what it was."

She took a deep breath, not liking it.

Mark turned to her, his eyes wide and an expression of pure shock that made Y/N look at him suspiciously.

He turned the phone screen and she returned her attention to Mark's shaking hand until she realized that a video was playing.

She felt her blood boil as she recognized the place and people in the video.

"We didn't find anything."

In front of her, on Mark's phone, a video of the kiss they had just exchanged played with a zoom clearly enough to identify both of them.

Y/N swallowed hard, not knowing what to do for the first time ever.

They kissed with so much passion that even though she didn't feel guilty, she felt embarrassed that it was recorded.

She looked at Mark, who even confused, had understood everything.

"Stop the car and go up to the building. Now." She ordered before turning off the communicator.

Y/N ran a hand over her face while Mark scratched the back of his head, staring at his phone screen again.

"She is here." He spoke quietly, with his eyes lost on a specific point on the phone. "She is here!"

Y/N took a deep breath and approached Mark.

"Hey." She rested her hands on his shoulders. "Mark, look at me."

He obeyed, scared.

"How did she do it?!"

"Don’t do that. That's what she wants, to make you scared!" she reminded him, making him nod.

"She sent the video with a message." He handed the phone to Y/N, who quickly took it, breaking the contact established with Mark.

She clenched her jaw and closed her eyes angrily after reading 'If you don't come and find me, your girlfriend will become famous'.

"I'm tired, Y/N!"

She opened her eyes, looking at Mark, he shook his head nonstop, completely disbelieved.

"I can't take all this mess anymore."

"You can, Mark, you're strong!"

He wet his own lips with his tongue and pressed them together in a thin line.

"You are right." He looked at her, making her raise her eyebrow in silent question. "I need to testify. I'm going to testify."

[...]

Y/N was hurriedly walking down the corridor of the police station, it was early in the morning and even though her body was tired from not having gone to sleep yet, the anger and hatred that coursed hotly through her veins left her more awake than ever.

She entered her boss's office without knocking and when she saw him standing next to the table, she found that he was already waiting for her.

He took a deep breath, his hands in his pants pockets.

"What about Mark?" he asked, worried.

"I left the patrollers there." she replied after closing the door with a thud, heading towards the chair in front of the table.

Y/N threw herself into the chair, being watched by her boss.

"Great, so we can talk." She nodded, the boss then handed his phone and she looked at it with a frown. "About this."

Y/N turned her attention to the phone and felt her blood suddenly run cold as she reviewed the video of the kiss between her and Mark.

A lump formed in her throat and she had nothing to say for a few seconds.

"How… who sent you that?" she raised the phone, after closing the video, irritated.

"She sent it to another deputy from another police station." he explained, returning to his chair and sitting down, to face Y/N. "Lucky for you two, he is a good friend of mine and realized it was a case of blackmail. This hasn't been leaked to the press yet."

She swallowed hard. She had nothing to explain to her boss because the video was enough.

"Y/N, I warned you about your emotions in this case."

"Boss, I didn't plan any of this-"

"I know that." He raised his hand to stop her. "But it doesn't make any difference anyway, because that kind of involvement is too dangerous."

She narrowed her eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"Getting emotionally involved with a victim in cases like this rarely ends well." he leaned back in the chair. "Know that I'm not removing you from the investigations just because everything is ready."

She swallowed the answer she wanted to give. It wouldn't be fair to her.

"It would be very difficult to explain why to the supervisor and both you and Mark need to protect yourself from this type of gossip."

She nodded.

"The girl said that if Mark didn't find her, this video would be exposed, but apparently she can't keep her word." She huffed, irritated.

"I thought you better than anyone understood that these kinds of people can't be trusted."

"I'm always surprised." she replied in disbelief.

"I'm going to talk to Mark's lawyer by the end of the day." she frowned, that information was new to her. "We need to get him out of the country as soon as possible, we can't delay it any longer."

Y/N felt her shoulders sag. They were fighting against this possibility at all costs but apparently there was no other way out.

"With the warrant issued, she won't be able to leave the country and so we caught her."

"Let me tell him." she begged, being closely watched by her boss. "Please."

"You overstepped, didn't you?" he crossed his arms after a while of silence.

Y/N swallowed hard and looked at the boss in complete surprise.

"What?"

"You fell in love with the boy."

Y/N felt her entire body shiver and her jaw dropped slightly as words failed her, she wanted to deny it with all her strength but her body didn't obey.

Didn't obey because she agreed with the boss.

Didn't obey because it was true.

At first it was pure need to protect him, she identified with his case in a very personal way. But after the first kiss, she felt her heart leap out of her mouth every time she thought about him, which ended up being very constant because her entire attention was focused solely on Mark, either because she was working on the case or because she was thinking about what had happened between them.

She rubbed her cold hands, still trying to find an answer, which wasn't coming.

"Boss-"

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me.” his voice sounded much calmer than she imagined. “You can’t imagine how common this is.” she smiled, embarrassed. “But you know what happens now, don’t you?”

She frowned, confused.

“You became the main target.”

“I’m not afraid of her.”

Y/N felt the blood bubbling hotly through her veins every time she thought about that stalker, it was the fuel she needed to do what was right. She wanted justice, that's all.

And she would, one way or another.

[...]

Y/N drove down the streets that would lead to Mark's house, her only purpose in talking to her boss was to ensure Mark's safety. First they would take him out of the apartment and take him to a safe place before boarding him on a flight back to Canada, it would be for a short time but enough to arrest the stalker and begin the trial.

He would come back, that was obvious, but that didn't mean that Y/N's didn’t heart sank and anguished when she remembered that she wouldn't see him for a few weeks.

She wanted to make sure he was okay.

“Attention vehicles, report of suspected robbery at a grocery store.”

Y/N turned up the volume on the radio to hear better and frowned when the location was mentioned, a street next to the one where Mark lived. When the center repeated it, Y/N's mind worked quickly and was soon fitting all the pieces of the puzzle together.

That was why she accelerated the car even more, turning on the siren so she could pass between the cars more quickly. She felt her heart racing faster than the car she was driving and she shook her head, wishing that what she was thinking wasn't happening. However, all her fears became clearer when she didn't see the patrol car on the street outside Mark's house. Y/N got out of the car before she could even turn it off, pulling the gun from her waistband as soon as she set foot on the street.

Her hands were shaking and she had to hold the gun tighter than necessary, she didn't enter the building through the front door, she went through the back and was very attentive to every inch, she went up through the service elevator. She would have taken the stairs if she hadn't known that it had been on purpose, she knew where to go and wouldn't need to analyze the floors of the building as protocol said.

The climb to Mark's floor felt like slow torture and when the metal doors opened, she took a deep breath before leaving. She swallowed hard when she saw the apartment door slightly opened and there was no longer any doubt for her, she felt her heart beating in her ears and her jaw clenched as she approached the door without making a sound.

She raised the gun forward with one hand and with the other she opened the door suddenly, she didn't see anyone in the entrance hall so without thinking twice, she entered the house.

She didn't hear any noise and that made her alert, but when she went to the living room she felt her shoulders give in slightly, the strength seemed to be lacking in her legs but at the same time her instinct reacted by raising the gun towards the stalker who had a knife pointed at Mark's neck.

Y/N swallowed the growl that almost escaped her mouth and aimed for the girl's head, she was ready for that with her finger on the trigger, the stalker didn't even make the effort to hide behind Mark.

She just didn't shoot because Mark's terrified face and tears weighed heavily on her heart. The rational part of her brain knew that if she fired there and now, with the blade's proximity to Mark's skin, she would risk his life.

And that was everything she wouldn't do.

“It took you long enough.”

Y/N took a deep breath, controlling the urge to tell her to fuck off.

That crazy woman was still cynical.

"What do you want?" she asked through gritted teeth, gripping the gun tighter.

“I already have what I want.” She smiled widely, bringing her face closer to Mark's to plant a kiss on his cheek, who tried to pull away with a disgusted grimace. “It’s right here, isn’t it my love?”

“And why all this theater to get me here?” Y/N questioned, glaring at her. “You were the one who made the anonymous report of the theft.” it wasn't a question.

Because the stalker's insolent smile said exactly the answer she already knew.

"Of course." she replied with a tone of obviousness. “How did you expect those two idiots guarding the door to let me in without me being seen?”

“They weren’t going!”

"Exactly." she shrugged. “That’s why I needed to get them out of my way. You should thank me, police officer, I spared their lives.”

Y/N laughed in disbelief.

“You won’t kill a fly.”

The stalker smiled devilishly and pressed the knife further into Mark's neck, making him raise his head to try to get away from the blade, Y/N held her breath.

“Don’t provoke me, officer, you don’t know me.” she threatened.

"Okay!" Y/N agreed. “Get away from Mark and I’ll give you what you want.”

“Do you think I’m stupid? I walk away and you shoot me. You're smart." she grabbed Mark by the shoulder with her other hand.

Y/N was becoming distressed by the exaggerated proximity so she raised her hands, removing her aim from her head.

"Is it better this way?" she asked angrily, raising her eyebrow.

“I don’t know how Mark got interested in a coward like you.” she teased and Y/N locked her jaw. Okay, she wasn't going to fall for that conversation, it was purposeful and she knew it. “But you know it can be funny.” the stalker slightly raised the hand that was holding the knife and Y/N paid attention to the movement. “Almost like a joke.”

Now it had become too personal.

"You're right." she smiled ironically at her, who looked at her in surprise. “I’m really smart.”

Before a blink of an eye, Y/N aimed the gun at the stalker and fired. The shot echoed through the apartment and Mark flinched to the side in fright, Y/N kept her stance firm and the gun still extended as she saw the stalker fidget on the floor, reaching for her injured shoulder.

Y/N approached in long strides, placing herself in front of Mark protectively, the girl struggled to try and hold the knife that had fallen a little away.

Y/N shook her head and kicked the knife away, far enough away that the stalker couldn't reach it.

"You are under arrest!" she announced before turning to face Mark.

Y/N felt her heart sink when she saw Mark devastated, he seemed like he couldn't breathe and that made her place a hand on his shoulder.

“Mark.” she called softly, seeing him run his eyes around the room, scared. “Hey, it’s over.”

He nodded before looking into her eyes, the exchange of glances was quick but for them it lasted an eternity, until Y/N shifted her attention to Mark's neck.

It was marked and red, but no injuries. It was enough to breathe a sigh of relief, she felt her whole body tingle with the adrenaline that was beginning to subside.

She put the gun in her waistband and took her phone from her pants pocket, calling for backup.

After the call, she lifted the stalker and handcuffed her, leaving her sitting on the floor near the sofa. Then, being very careful not to scare Mark, she led him out of the apartment. Only then would they have privacy to talk.

"Are you okay?" she asked, calmly analyzing his face.

He swallowed, drying his sweaty hands on his pants.

“I guess… I guess so.” he took a deep breath.

“I know, after all the adrenaline wears off your body feels sore.” Y/N's fingers itched to touch Mark's face and this time she didn't hold back.

She made him look her in the eyes. He had a mix of emotions there and it was enough to hug him.

Y/N buried her face in the back of Mark's head and he wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, shaking so much that she had to pat his back to try to calm him down.

She wanted to envelop him with the certainty that everything was okay in the same way that the heat of his body enveloped her.

"You saved my life." he said, his voice being muffled by the hug. “I will never be able to thank you enough.”

Y/N smiled lightly and moved away, seeing Mark's grateful smile up close.

"You don't need to. Just live your life like you have been doing and that’s enough for me.” Y/N's eyes dropped to his lips.

She fought the urge to kiss him one last time and so she bit her lower lip.

“So it’s like this?” Y/N narrowed her eyes at Mark's question, not understanding. “Is this how we’re going to say goodbye?”

Y/N opened her mouth to respond but no sound came out as she didn't know what to say, she shrugged sheepishly.

“If you want to-” she started but was interrupted by Mark, who got close enough so that their noses were touching slightly.

Y/N got lost in his eyes, which begged her to stay.

"Don’ go away." he asked and she smiled slightly. “It's going to be hard being away from you, officer. I survived the game thanks to you.”

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