#the sword is barely the issue

[waywardsalt]

bc its been bouncing around in my head i think another little tiny grievance i had with totk is that i got to the end and just felt a sense of ‘well what the hell was that all for then’

[queernobi]

There's always this thing among fans of longstanding video game franchises like the Legend of Zelda where people have to insist that the older title people didn't like was actually quite good, and it's been really funny to see people try to do this with Skyward Sword despite it aging like milk.

Any video you see trying to do a serious retrospective has to be like, "Yeah, the controls were bad, and the bosses were a bit repetitive, and most of the dungeons weren't that interesting, and the story was poorly paced, but it's really a good game!" like please. Please stop trying to force this.

[witch-sweets]

I decided I wanna be evil today

[silent-sentinels]

lays on the fucking. ground. maybe we should open commissions. so we can buy a new laptop

theres so many other funds that need money and we can still deal with this

our fucking enter and backspace key stopped working bro idk what to tell you. this is including: volume up and down buttons, brightness up and down buttons, screenshare button, 1, 3, 9, q, e, o, d, h, and now enter and backspace. even after relocating half our keys to our keypad buttons this shit is nigh unusable.

nOT TO MENTION OUR CHARGER THAT ONLY WORKS 50% OF THE TIME. god this is SO ANNOYING BUT APPARENTLY WE DONT DESERVE ANYTHING RIGHT NOW ARUGGGGGH

maybe once spring semester starts we can ask. fucking. who knows. who cares. like truly who cares. also we can't do commissions are you fucking kidding? us? with art on a deadline communicating with peoples requests through dms are you hearing yourself???

aaAAUGGGHHHH FUCKING. WEEPS.

[somnoir]

Ghost KingConsort?

Prompt: Demon Twins AU where the ghost king is summoned and claims his appearance is that of his beloveds. Shenanigans of a vindictive dead twin.

Danyal Al Ghul escaped from the league. The Lazarus Pits were never merciful but for once, they were. The pits were merciful to him as the green swallowed him and spat him out miles away from that place.

Danny can't forget his first death, the sword in his gut as Damian cut through him. The title of heir was reserved for only one of them and the spare was no longer needed. He supposed it was yet another mercy upon him, knowing that the title of spare was not simple. He would have been Damian's spare—spare parts.

Danny remembers his second death. The electricity that killed him over and over again as the ectoplasm spilled from the artificial portal brought him back to life again and again. One second he was dead, the other he was being revived. It was torturous in every way possible.

It's been years since then. His parents were a difficult case, unable to accept that their darling child had died and continued to believe that Danny was being possessed by the menace Phantom. They hunted him, tried to rip him apart to 'free' their son. It took both himself and Jazz leaving with the help of Vlad (reluctantly accepted) for his parents to stop hunting. Their home that had already felt empty was even more empty now.

It's been almost four years since then. Danny had settled into his role as Ghost King, even when the crown of fire floated over his head then descended to be too big, too much—resting around his neck.

It's... Difficult...

CUT TO THE JUSTICE LEAGUE SUMMONING HIM!

Danny Fenton, nineteen and very much overworked from all the paperwork he had to sort through as Ghost King, finds a small tugging to his very being. A summoning he recognized, sighing loudly before he's answer to this visible desperation. Like it was a world ending issue.

And yes, it apparently was when the fabric of reality itself was tearing itself apart for some strange reason. As the ruler of the infinite realms—the king of the very domain that basically glued the multiverse—this was apparently the right call.

Dressed in all of his kingly regalia, Danny felt the crown of fire float up from his neck and burned over his head. His cape, cloak—whatever—was heavy and he blinked, green eyes boring into every soul present. He recognized the fractured soul of the laughing magician—one of his more irksome subjects that avoided taxes like it was the fucking plague. He really should tell Skulker to haunt his grandfather. Maybe even Youngblood would be suitable.

But aside from the laughing magician, his eyes settled upon a familiar soul, a familiar face. Danny blinks again.

Shit... He thought, staring at the masked yet horrified face of his own twin. Robin was nineteen as well by now, older, stronger—redeemed.

In the past, Danny would have cursed Damian to the seven hells and allowed the seven sins to have a bite. But Jazz was blessing. An older sister who made sure to heal him, to let him grow, to let him develop. He's forgiven Damian for his faults. They were children, brainwashed by a mad man. He's not too angry. Resentful and a bit vindictive? That was a given as he technically was the spirit of a murder victim. Of kinslaying.

"Hellblazer." The language spoken by the dead leaves his mouth easily. It can't be understood by the living, and it was barely understood who came back from death. But John Constantine was a different, more difficult case. One hell of a motherfucker that avoided death until the entity itself was ranting to both Clockwork and Danny about his escapes.

And John Constantine recognized his title regardless of the language.

The sad man in a trench coat stiffened, staring at Danny as he stiffly bowed. "High King Phantom." He greets, and attempt at respect. When there was suddenly movement, Constantine was quick to hiss at the others—glaring at Robin who looked ready lunge at them.

Oh, he can't help himself. This was funny. In the words of his own counterpart turned brother—He could make it worse. Jazz was going to nag him, true, but Danny was so. Utterly. BORED. Being Ghost King had a lot of entertainment, like how he got to fight people and basically hang out with people from the past. But it got... Repetitive. Normal Ghosts wouldn't mind with their eternal afterlife, but Danny was still half-alive. He was completely human—just a half dead one.

"Your majesty—" Constantine struggled to explain, "The universe... Do you know why portals have been opening, your majesty? Forgive my impudence but our world has been plagued by portals from different worlds, some even lead to the infinite realm."

"It's not uncommon for natural portals to the realms to open. Many of your dead like to visit." He smirked, "Many like to haunt those who've wronged them."

Constantine gulped, "Your majesty, would you, by any chance, be aware of why these portals are opening?"

Danny sighed. Well, he can't say he wasn't concerned. This was his world too after all, even when now. It was Jazz's world, where she still went to school, it was Sam and Tucker's world. It was his family's world. So yes, he is concerned.

"The portals to the realms are under my jurisdiction. They are natural and open in my places with thick and ambient ectoplasm." Danny drawls, "But these dimensional portals are strange. I'll check in with the Master of Time to see if someone is meddling with reality. It may not even be from your dimension."

He can only shrug at that, remembering how Dan had practically ripped through time with his madness and rage, tearing through the world to ensure his birth.

"I see, thank you for your understanding, your majesty." Constantine nervously says.

"Say, would you like to watch the battle royale for your soul?"

"Excuse me?"

"You're excused, magician." Danny rolls his eyes, "But you'd certainly enjoy watching people tear each other to shreds for your fucked up soul. I don't understand why people want it so much when the paperwork it comes with is a hell in itself."

"Your majesty," Constantine paled.

"I'm joking. I'll deal with this as quickly as possible." Danny paused, grinning as he made a show of offering his hand to the justice league. "I couldn't possible sit by and allow my beloved's world to crumble. He'd be devastated."

Constantine blinked. Everyone blinked. And then Danny turned to Damian and... Batman. Bruce Wayne. His father. At least he seemed to be treating Damian better than Jack did with Danny and Jazz.

"You must have recognized this face, yes?" Danny tilted his head. "You are his family."

"What have you done to my brother?" Robin—Damian immediately growled, like a feral cat as he unsheathed his katanas and aimed for Danny.

"Hm." Danny rolled his eyes, "He's well. Very much taken care of." Because yes, Danny was well fed and taken care of, especially as the Ghost King. "I've taken his form so I assumed you knew of him."

He dismissed Robin long before he could even speak, turning to Constantine once again. "Don't fret too much, John Constantine." The man in question flinched once his name was uttered in the language of the dead he could barely understand. "This will be fixed in a days time. If not, I will send someone to deal with it."

The Ghost King's appearance had been startling when they summoned him. A boy with a striking resemblance to Damian if not for his white hair. A twin? Bruce had sounded devastated at the implications. But Damian? He'd seen the ghost king and felt nauseous, unable to tear his eyes away from the eldritch being that wore his brother's face.

It took a lot of explaining once they were back in the cave. The duel, Danyal's death, the Lazarus taking him and he was never seen again. Everyone was... Well, they were devastated. Yes. Grieving a son and brother they never met. But the Ghost King has been summoned with a face similar to that of their father's, a face that was the exact same one to their brothers. The Ghost King who referred to the dead Danyal as his beloved.

It's the next day when they're back in the watchtower, anxiously waiting for any update. Constantine continues to curse under his breath, shaking his head before a portal rips through reality. Everyone stiffened, preparing for the worst.

A girl appears, a child. She's a spry little thing with glowing green eyes, flaming white hair, and a face that they immediately recognized.

"Sorry that I'm late! Times pretty bendy and we don't really keep up with it." The unknown laughs, "Well, short answer, Phantom has identified the problem and has attempted to apprehend it. Unfortunately, it's been a week on our end and the perp apparently fell into your world."

Time distortion—Constantine had mentioned it. But they stare at the girl who rambled about their supposed target until Batman cleared his throat, seemingly softer on the girl—someone who was visibly a child.

"Young lady, welcome to the Watchtower. Even id the greeting it late." Batman curtly yet gently says. "May I know your name?"

The girl blinked. "Oh! You can call me Specter, princess of the infinite realms! I'm Phantom and Danny's daughter."

It is then that the possibilities processes in their heads.

One. The Ghost King took the form of his beloved, aka the dead twin brother of one Damian Wayne.

Two. Damian's dead twin and Bruce's dead son might be the queen (consort?) of the infinite realms.

Three. Danyal and Phantom had a daughter. Damian and the rest of the Bar kids were uncles and aunts. Bruce was now officially a grandpa.

Damian faints on the spot.

[mattsundaes]

patience

soshiro hoshina x f!reader

It's more than a little difficult to hide your attraction to the Vice-Captain of the Third Division when you accidentally find yourself sparring with him in your pajamas in the middle of the night. Especially when he's wearing that goddamn shirt.

wc: 4k

c: 18+ ONLY, smut, slight power imbalance, semi-public sex, fingering, oral sex (f!receiving), edging, unprotected p in v

“You get sloppy when you’re tired.”

A knee digs into the back of your own as you find yourself pinned face down on the training mats, the steady grip of a hand trapping both of your wrists against the small of your back. The vice-captain’s voice is tinged with amusement as he lets you go, easily dodging the kick you send his way as you roll in the opposite direction and jump to your feet, breathing hard.

“Fuck you,” you pant out, though there’s no real heat behind your words.

He raises an eyebrow.

“—Vice-Captain Hoshina,” you finish, offering him a patronizing smile.

Clicking his tongue against his teeth, Hoshina begins to circle you slowly, “Officer Furuhashi had to do seventy pushups last week for that, ya know.”

While he’s not wrong about your sloppy footwork, the late hour is hardly the top contender of blame for your piss-poor performance in this impromptu sparring match.

Rather, the real issue at hand is the workout shirt that Hoshina’s currently wearing, the black, skin-tight material leaving little to the imagination as it clings to his firm, defined abdomen. 

Clad in nothing but your pajama shorts and an oversized t-shirt, you had made the mistake of slowing down to peek into the slightly ajar door to the training room on your way back to the dorms, curious who was still awake at such a late hour. Your breath had hitched at the sight of the vice-captain working through a series of complex sword maneuvers by himself, mouth going dry as you found yourself mesmerized by the sight of his bare hands and arms—features normally obscured by his suit on the field—and that goddamn shirt.

Naturally, he’d spotted you lingering and cajoled you inside, mouth curving sideways in a smirk as he reminded you of a few glaring mistakes you’d made earlier during training with the squad.

Now, your level of exhaustion is a moot point when it’s all you can do to reign in the traitorous swell of desire building in your chest as the sleeves of his shirt dig into his biceps each and every time he moves. The muscle that keeps fighting against the high neck of his shirt isn’t helping, either. 

This heady, insistent tug you feel toward him, this dizzying, smoldering attraction that has a penchant for clouding your better judgment—it’s nothing new. Your eyes developed this unfortunate habit of instinctually straying to the vice-captain the day he volunteered to give you a tour of the base when you transferred to the Third Division, a problem that only increased tenfold the first time you had a front row seat to his…competency in dual swordsmanship.

(It’s borderline embarrassing—the way even thinking about him wielding those blades sets your heart racing.)

You’ve learned to ignore it, despite the flirtatious undercurrent to each and every interaction you share.

And yet—sparring alone with him right now while the rest of the base sleeps, sweat dripping down your back as your skin burns all over with the ghost of his touch, seeing this stripped down version of one of the Defense Force’s most lethal weapons in a moment that feels far more intimate than it has any right to be…it’s difficult to remember why you should.

Hoshina uses his forearm to wipe the perspiration from his forehead, tongue darting out along his bottom lip, and a subtle shudder runs through you as you track the unconscious movement. Unfortunately, his keen eyes don’t miss the trajectory of your waning focus, and he takes advantage of the opening, the room quickly spinning as you find yourself on the floor beneath him once again.

This time, you’re lying on your back, both hands pinned above your head, his fingers incidentally laced with your own. Hoshina’s wide-eyed and panting, and you can tell you at least accomplished something—he clearly hadn’t been intending to hit the floor with you until your survival instincts kicked in enough to gracelessly drag him down on top of you. 

As you go to pull free, you find something solid pressed between your legs, and it’s an effort in and of itself to stifle your gasp at the feeling that instantly curls hotly in your gut at the friction. Belatedly, you reorient yourself to find that you had hooked your left leg around his waist during the fall, and the firm wall of muscle that you’re two seconds from accidentally dry humping is his thigh that’s slotted between your legs.

Hoshina’s face sobers as he stares down at you, and you swear you feel his fingers flex minutely against your own, his expression now unreadable. 

Seemingly continuing his earlier thought, he muses, “Well, I guess I get sloppy when I’m distracted.” Your heart thunders in your chest as you find yourself balancing precariously on the tightrope of what could very well be an incredibly bad decision. 

If you were smart, you’d let this moment pass.

If you were smart, you’d tap out and tell him you’re going to bed, letting out the rest of your frustration with a hand between your legs, your soft, quiet moans muffled by the spray of the shower water or the layers of your duvet.

But the words are wrestling their way past your teeth before you can stop yourself as you ask, “What could possibly distract the vice-captain of the Third Division?”

He laughs under his breath, and for a wild moment, you think he’s about to kiss you when he leans in, but his lips skirt the shell of your ear instead as he murmurs, “You don’t normally wear this when we’re trainin’ with everyone else.”

Hoshina’s lower half nudges you slightly for emphasis, his hands still occupied by your own, and you belatedly realize—with embarrassment—that you’re the one now essentially holding them in the grip of your fingers. However, the thought is quickly replaced by another jolt of pleasure as the movement presses his thigh just a hair more firmly against the heat between your legs.

At the slight widening of his eyes, you also realize something else—that soft, little moan in your head wasn’t so silent after all. 

He tilts his head and sighs, “You make this real difficult for me sometimes.”

You’re far too aware of every place your bodies are touching.

“What do I make difficult?” you ask carefully, surprising yourself with your boldness. 

He regards you with a look like you should already know what he’s referring to. “Ignoring the things I think about when I’m around you.”

Your mouth goes dry, a polar opposite to the arousal now soaking into your panties. “Maybe you should stop ignoring them,” you whisper before you can think better of it. 

Hoshina groans, fingers tightening around yours, eyes falling shut. “Don’t say that.”

Freeing one of your hands from their entanglement with his, you reach up, pushing his dark violet locks out of his face. “Why not?”

He leans in, mouth so close to yours you can feel the heat of his exhales as he murmurs, “Cause I might be the vice-captain of this division, but I’m not above fucking you right here on the floor.”

Heat sears insistently in your lower abdomen, and you shift just enough to press into him again. He audibly breathes out through his nose, and you tilt your head slightly askew as you stare up at him. “Are you asking me to beg, then?”

You’re suddenly very grateful to have unconsciously pulled the door shut behind you when you walked in, given that this training room can only be opened from the outside with an authorized key fob after hours.

Hoshina laughs a little incredulously under his breath, tongue curling against the inside of his cheek. “I’ll make you a deal.”

You raise a brow, imploring him to continue.

“We’ll forget about those pushups for that mouth of yours, but…” he trails off, one finger ghosting over your lips. “You don’t get to come until I say so.”

It’s instant—the way your brain briefly short circuits as you take in the full meaning of his words.

“I—what?”

He smirks. “You might be one of the most talented officers in this division, but your patience could really use some work.”

Well, he’s not wrong.

Smiling up at him sweetly, you shift so that your leg presses against the erection noticeably tented at the front of his pants. “Then teach me.”

You’re not prepared for it—the way all of the air leaves your lungs when Hoshina’s lips come crashing into yours. There’s no pretense to the way he claims your mouth, swallowing down the tiny little gasp that crawls up your throat, one hand cupping the side of your neck as the other reaches out to pin both of yours back to the floor. You push back a little, just for the thrill that arches down your spine when he tightens his grip, pinning you down even harder. 

His tongue dances along the seam of your lips, thumb stroking the sensitive spot where your neck meets your jaw, and he groans a little when you part them, deepening the kiss. A blistering wave of arousal floods your veins as Hoshina does what can only be described as fucking his way into your mouth with his tongue, and you’re helpless to control how eagerly you take him in. Truthfully, you’ve never felt quite so turned on over the taste of someone else’s saliva, so desperate to feel the filthy, slick slide of their tongue and lips slotting and tangling with your own.

It takes you a minute to realize that you’ve started grinding against his thigh, but clearly he’s well aware, because as soon as you stop, he murmurs against your mouth, “Go ahead, keep going.”

Compiling without hesitation, you drag your clothed pussy down against the friction of his leg once more, and he bites down on your lip as you moan at the delicious sensation. 

“Does that feel good?” he asks coyly.

You nod, losing any lingering senses of embarrassment over dry humping your vice-captain’s leg as you observe the way his pupils are blown wide with lust, gasping and panting as you rut against him even harder. Panties damp with arousal, you wouldn’t be surprised to find a wet spot forming against his pants, as you can already feel the surplus of sticky fluid dripping down your ass cheeks. 

You could come like this.

“Stop.”

Freezing immediately at the tone of Hoshina’s voice, you open your half-lidded eyes to stare up at him, lips parted slightly.

“Didn’t say you could come yet,” he reminds you, expression tinged with amusement. “But show me how wet you are.”

He releases your hands, and you nearly whimper when he pulls his knee away, shifting to place his knees on either side of you. He slides both hands down your sides, stopping at your hips, and he trails two fingers along the waistband of your shorts, curling one of the short, loose strings around a digit before continuing his journey down your mound. 

A hum of satisfaction leaves his lips as he feels the way your juices have soaked clear through the little cotton shorts. You whine in frustration when he drags a slow, deliberate circle over your swollen clit through the fabric, rocking your hips upward.

Hoshina looks like he wants to say something, possibly to chide you for your impatient behavior, but clearly the other thought in his head wins out when he slides his hand up the bottom of your shorts and hooks a finger in your underwear, tugging them aside. 

Despite his teasing, the pressure of his fingers through your clothing is still nothing compared to the feather-light touch of his fingers drifting down the length of your slit. 

“Fuck,” he murmurs softly in approval, sliding one digit into your wet hole. 

Your pussy spasms at the sensation, and you moan for him, which only spurs him on further, earning you a second finger. The stretch still isn’t enough, and you buck your hips into his touch eagerly. 

“How the fuck are you so wet,” he mutters, one hand slipping up your shirt to clutch your side as he pumps his fingers in and out of you, the lewd, wet squelch contending with the rising volume of your moans.

It’s impressive—how close you are to coming already with just two of his fingers massaging your slick, tight walls, his thumb barely teasing over the bud of your throbbing clit. It’s nearly laughable compared to how long it took the last man who touched you to get you off. 

“You look so pretty when you’re about to come,” Hoshina comments, curling his fingers inside of you, and you gasp.

He swiftly removes them, lips curling upward at the dismayed look on your face as you cant your hips upward into nothing, the wave of pleasure building inside of you unceremoniously crashing at the breakers before reaching the shore. 

“Hoshina,” you whimper, not caring if it sounds a little pathetic as your chest heaves.

“I thought we were working on your patience,” he replies, before sticking your fingers in his mouth and licking your slick arousal clean off of them.

The warmth stirring inside of you turns molten, and your nipples feel achingly hard against the cotton fabric of your t-shirt. When he reaches down to cup your chin, your mouth falls open of its own volition, and you don’t hesitate to take his spit-soaked fingers between your lips instead. 

“Jesus Christ,” he breathes out as you suck on the digits, a thin trail of saliva escaping in the process and dribbling past your lips. 

You reach up, threading your fingers into his hair, and you tug his mouth down toward yours. He strays off course, licking the spit from your chin and dragging his tongue across your lips. 

He follows the curve of your jaw with his mouth, lips blazing a trail of kisses down the side of your neck until he begins to nip and suck at your collarbone while his hands slide down to ruck up your t-shirt. He seems pleased by your lack of a bra, eyes darkening at the sight of your plush breasts bared before him. His fingers are precise as they cup one, thumb slowly dragging across your peaked nipple before he leans in and laps at the supple, sensitive skin. 

You arch upward into his touch, gasping out his name, and he groans, taking your peaked bud into his mouth. Despite the fact that you know he won’t let you finish, you reach between your legs anyway, keening as you dip two fingers into your empty, wet cunt while Hoshina turns his attention to filthily sucking on your other breast. Legs spreading wider against the cage of his own, you plunge a third finger in, and Hoshina makes a displeased sound, mouth abandoning your tits to trail down your stomach. 

“D’you think of me when you touch yourself?” he asks with a hint of amusement in his voice, his hands gently pulling yours away from between your legs before sliding off your shorts and panties. 

“Maybe,” you pant out, fingers now pressing down into the soft mats beneath you.

“Maybe?” he echoes, nose brushing against your clit.

He pauses, and you can feel the warm huff of air that hits your slit as you whimper a strangled “Yes” when he lazily begins to slide a single finger back into your needy cunt. 

Another fresh thrill of arousal shudders through you as he calmly replies, “Good girl,” before he spreads your legs even wider and drags his tongue through your folds.

You blink back the spots from the bright ceiling lights that dance against your eyelids as your entire body arches upward off of the mats, the grip of his hands on the globes of your ass the only thing keeping you grounded as Hoshina groans lewdly at the taste of your pussy, lapping another broad, hungry stroke, 

You’d do anything to come at this point, tears now pricking at the corners of your eyes as another blazing hot onslaught of pleasure trickles through your limbs, ruthlessly dragging you toward the edge.

He abruptly stops again, his lips covered in the slick sheen of your arousal when he looks up at you.

“Hoshina, please,” you whimper.

“Soshiro,” he exhales roughly, hips aligning with yours as he makes his way up your body to press a wet, filthy kiss to your lips.

“Soshiro,” you repeat a little breathlessly, and he kisses you again, more roughly this time. 

You can feel his thick erection as it presses down against your naked mound through his pants, and there’s little you can do to hold back your urge to roll your hips upward, dragging your wet, naked heat along his shaft. 

“Soshiro,” you say again, more desperately this time, and he groans, grinding back down against you with more fervor at the sound of his name on your lips. 

Slipping a hand between your bodies, your fingers fumble with the button of his pants, and he’s quick to take over, making quick work of the zipper. He guides your hand to his dick, wrapping your fingers around its thick girth as he asks, “You wanna feel this inside of you?”

The mere suggestion makes your woefully empty walls clench, and you can feel a fresh dribble of arousal leak from you. Giving his cock a few experimental pumps, you nod feverishly.

“Put it in then,” he murmurs, and there’s something undeniably erotic about the way he lazily stares down at you, waiting.

You guide his shaft toward your slick cunt, rejoicing just a bit in the slight shudder that wracks through him as you rub the flushed, leaking head of his cock against your slippery folds, his precum mixing with the lubrication of your wet juices.

If you thought you were desperate to come on his fingers and tongue, the heady buzz of need that’s been steadily buzzing inside of you is nothing compared to the gushing flood of desperation at the feeling of Hoshina’s length splitting you open. You’re a little too tight for him, but it feels so good—the way he replaces your hand with his own to stuff his cock the rest of the way inside of you. Your cunt greedily clenches down on each inch until you’re suddenly empty again. 

Hoshina—Soshiro—fucks like he fights: all teasing, taunting confidence. Every move he makes is pointed, purposeful. So you know he’s left you woefully empty now solely to bask in your frustrated reaction, just to hear your subsequent gasp of pleasure when he plunges back inside of you once more. 

You’re so fucking sensitive right now, it’s ridiculous—white-hot bursts of pleasure ignite in your abdomen with every little push and drag of the shape of his cock against the plush, tight grip of your cunt. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” he hisses, exhaling roughly as he pulls out of you entirely once more, firmly gripping the base of his cock like he’s just as close to coming as you are.

Leaning down, Hoshina drags his lips across yours in some messy approximation of a kiss, his breath hot against your cheek as his mouth veers off. Turning your head to the side, you nip at his bottom lip, and he molds his mouth to yours, tongue slipping into your mouth. 

Your muscles tense with anticipation as you feel the heavy weight of his cock pressing against your cunt, your ass lifting off of the mat to chase the friction with brazen need. But Hoshina’s hand slips between your bodies, fingers wrapping around his shaft, and he positions himself lengthwise with your slit. 

Any sounds of protest promptly die in your throat, only to be replaced by a wanton moan that Hoshina swallows down as he deepens the kiss while he begins to roll his hips, sliding his throbbing cock up and down through your drenched, sticky folds. 

“Oh fuck,” you gasp, fingers digging into his back as you writhe beneath him, nearly seeing stars each time the head of his dick catches against your sensitive, swollen clit.

There’s a thin line of spit between your lips as he breaks the kiss, watching you burn from the inside out with relentless, intoxicating tremors of pleasure.

“Not yet,” Hoshina murmurs, slowing the rocking of his hips as he lines himself with your quivering entrance once more. “When I make you come, it’ll be on my cock.”

When he buries himself inside of you this time, you choke out a sob, the ache between your thighs reaching a fever pitch as he stuffs your pussy full to the hilt. And you swear he must feel the way your cunt is gripping him—begging him to stay buried deep inside of you, to finally let you cream all over his cock—because he sounds wrecked as he roughly moans your name against your mouth.

One of his hands slides along your arm, fingertips lacing with yours as the other cups your breast, his thumb teasing your nipple. 

“You feel so fucking good,” he exhales, eyes wide, his hair far more mussed than you’ve ever seen it on the battlefield.

Despite the protest of your trembling, tightly-wound limbs, you wrap your legs around his waist, keening as you use the heel of your foot to press him even deeper inside of you and pant out, “Harder.”

He doesn’t hesitate to oblige, his steady strokes turning rough when he begins to pound into you, a litany of curses tumbling from his lips as your tits shake with each snap of his hips. 

You’re so fucking close—and you know he feels it, how fucking badly you want to give in to this torrential downpour of pleasure that’s threatening to drag you under.

“Come for me,” he finally commands in a sultry, gravelly tone that you’re certain will fucking haunt your wet dreams for years to come. 

It’s not difficult to obey—not when your entire body has been reduced to a dripping, trembling, desperate coil of tension, slipping along the tightrope of a tauntingly close climax for far too long. Shockwaves of the most intense pleasure you’ve ever felt grip every nerve ending from head to toe as your climax erupts, and Hoshina’s groan is downright filthy as he feels your pussy gush all over his cock.

“Shit,” he pants out, muscles tensing hard as you ride out your orgasm, eyes falling shut while your cunt spasms and contracts against his shaft. “Shit, shit.”

You’ve only just finished when he quickly pulls his cock from your quivering hole and groans loudly, barely giving his shaft half a stroke before ropes of hot, thick cum are spurting all over your bare chest, spilling all over your tits.

It’s quiet as he sits there kneeling between your spread legs, chest heaving just as hard as yours as you try to wrap your head around what the fuck just happened. Subtly, you reach down to pinch your thigh, not quite convinced your late night waltz to the kitchen wasn’t just the product of a fucked up dream. 

Hoshina shrugs off his shirt, hardly giving you time to ogle what the hell he’s been hiding beneath there before he begins wiping his cum off of your chest. When he’s finished, he stands, and you slip back into your clothes as you watch him ball up his soiled shirt and grab his jacket. 

He pulls you to your feet, and the way his hands slide down your sides to smooth down your wrinkled t-shirt is oddly intimate, his fingers straying lower to briefly toy with the hem of your shorts. Instead of putting on his jacket to make up for his lack of a shirt, he reaches around you to settle it over your shoulders, the familiar, dizzying scent that you’ve come to associate with him enveloping your senses. 

–

And when you accidentally wear his jacket to training the next morning, you find what must be a spare key card to his room left nestled in one of the pockets. 

There’s a coy smile on his lips when he spots you staring down at the white piece of plastic, shrugging before he returns his attention to the rest of the gathered officers. 

[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐲, 𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥… || 𝐒𝐚𝐣𝐚 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary_ That time when Rumi’s sword and the Huntr/x’s weapons brought a common enemy for both hunters and demons: an angel messing with them and the Saja Boys as the most successful idol.

warnings_ angel!reader (she’s literally god), mostly Jinu x reader, but everyone is obsessed with her, canon divergence, cringe, sexual innuendos, saja boys kinda perverts but reader doesn’t feel awkward, teasing, reader kinda into being shared between the Saja Boys, canon divergence, NO PROOFREAD

notes_ so my saja boys ranking is 1-Jinu, 2-Abby and 3-Baby

♫ ♪ the world’s worst Saja Boys playlist

✰ Index (+ fics here)

୨ৎ───୨ৎ───୨ৎ───୨ৎ───୨ৎ

It was summer already. But that night was covered by the rope of a cold breeze.

The sword disappeared into the demon’s chest. Rumi felt the tip of her weapon hitting one of the giant rocks on the floor.

The demon vanished into a cloud of mist and sparkles, which commonly happened after getting rid of them. But a horde of pink light seemed to come out, down from the cracks of the floor. The whole ancient temple was illuminated by said pink light and even Rumi’s braid was pulled back with the wind that came along.

Rumi covered her eyes and waited till the blinding lights and wind passed. Horrid screams and angelic voices could be heard at some distance with echo, making her shiver as goosebumps shattered her. Felt as if a curse had been unleashed. The purple-haired huntress sighed, catching a breath as she searched for anything abnormal.

At the same time, Mira and Zoey came running behind her.

“What was that?” Zoey yelled.

Once the three girls were together, they exchanged looks at each other, visibly confused.

“A flash spurted from the ground as we killed the last demons” Mira explained.

“Same happened here” Rumi answered, looking back around.

“I don’t think anything changed?” Zoey questioned. “The Saja Boys aren’t nearby”

“No, it’s all clear”

“Everything feels normal…” Rumi agreed.

“Great!” The three girls said in unison, convincing themselves that everything was alright with smiles on their faces.

So they went back to their place and plotted to watch a new show and eat tons of food while doing their skincare.

…

For any K-pop idol, Inkigayo was a big deal. It was the perfect opportunity to promote new music, gain new fans, set new trends… or cause drama.

Huntr/x and Saja Boys patiently waited backstage till they were called out to perform. The boys looked annoyingly good. With salmon and mint clothes mixed. They were going to perform “Soda Pop” and a new song apparently.

Then, Huntr/x were going to perform a remix of “How It’s Done”, with new metallic attires.

“Stop looking at his abs” Rumi scolded Mira and Zoey.

“We are so not looking at his abs” Mira answered, obviously glued to Abby and his gorgeous physique.

At the least expected moment, Rumi had Jinu beside her.

“So… Have you told them about your… skin issues?” Jinu asked, his fingers softly touching the barely visible skin of her neck. Rumi stepped backwards.

“No. And stop pressuring me” she answered, ignoring his smirk and teasing tone.

Jinu chuckled and just crossed his arms, his soft biceps flexing. Rumi couldn’t drool about it since she started getting stressed about her sudden patterns and her voice failing to reach her usual notes.

“Don’t take too long…” he said, leaning forward towards her. Then, he whispered in her ear. “Or, you know, I can always tell them…”

“No” her serious tone made Jinu realize he couldn’t bother her anymore. So he just smiled and walked back with the rest of the boys.

“Sorry, but there’s been a change in the program” a man said, pushing both Huntr/x and Saja Boys back.

They all looked confused at each other.

“Why?” Romance asked.

“Yeah, Why?” Mira joined with a big frown.

The man fixed his glasses, looked at the papers in his hand, and barely looked at the group of idols before he spoke.

“There’s a bigger performance before you two” and he left.

“What do you mean bigger?” Zoey asked in disbelief.

“Do you know who we are?” Abby yelled, bumping his chest against Mira’s back, making her frown and receive a wink from the muscular man.

“What is going on?” Rumi whispered, but Jinu and the girls heard her.

The doors opened and a bunch of staff entered. They all wore white clothing with golden jewelry. They were all very attractive people. And they were styling the mysterious new idol.

An extremely attractive woman. So celestial, heavenly….

You knew the aura you carried, the way you moved, sang, and laughed was able to catch anyone’s attention.

You felt makeup brushes adding more highlighter that looked as if your cheeks were wet, dripping sparkles. Romance was all over seeing your lips full of crimson lipstick with sparkles. Abby had his eyes glued to your satin gown that had the lace on the cleavage changed so the whole look ended up looking modern and sophisticated. Baby and Mystery couldn’t stop looking at your hair that bounced like soft waves and appeared to smell perfectly.

And Jinu was frozen, questioning what you had that was making him uneasy and making his heart beat so fast.

You passed by the two groups and eyed them up and down. You got closer to one of the men. Black hair, tall, soft lips, and an adorable nose, very hot overall.

He gulped and you smiled at his nervousness. Jinu; you had seen his name and the rest of the band’s in some ad.

Your fingers traced a line in his neck and your smile grew wider. You felt his pulse and how nervous he was. His natural demon lilac skin with patterns appeared where you touched him and even Rumi, Zoey and Mira gasped in shock. Wondering how that was possible…

“Nice makeup…” you said, loud enough so you could be heard.

Then you turned to Huntr/x, barely eyeing them as some of your team passed you a microphone with foil details.

“Good luck” the girls only stared back, visible disgust in their faces, even jealousy, you knew.

As much as they hated the Saja Boys, seeing them drooling over you and acting like lost puppies, made them feel jealous. Maybe deep down, they liked to be shipped with the demons. Just for the thrill.

The production behind your stage was shocking. The pink, aquamarine, and orange misty visuals, coral lighting, and faint dark details resembled a retelling of heaven.

“Who’s that pissy crabby?” Mira asked as the music began.

“She’s so hot” Abby and Baby said standing next to her.

“Maybe just pretty” Rumi commented with slight venom in her voice.

“Darling, look at that sight” Romance added, making Mira roll her eyes and huff.

And then you started singing.

Certainly, there is something

Do the rumors

Indeed whisper truly what you are

(Only I know there’s a naked truth)

Tell me what you see

Show me what you want

I can make you reach the sky

Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah

Rumi and Jinu frowned, then looked at each other.

It’s in your weapons

What might cleanse the realm

But only I-

(Only I know there’s a naked truth)

Within my touch

I send them back to hell

I make her curse her sword

And still they want more of me

It felt like an ice bucket splash. There was no way you knew about demon hunters, and demons themselves. Jinu looked at the TV connected to the backstage and noticed the crowds looking at your performance. Girls carried metallic dark silver lightsticks with pink details and wings as decoration. The TV was showing you dancing as the beat changed to a faster tempo, and the sign of your song being named “Naked Truth”.

“She’s an angel” Rumi confirmed to Jinu and everyone turned to look at her in shock.

At the word “angel” the Saja Boys seemed to be out of their trance. Their lovesick faces changed to disgust. Except for Jinu, who seemed thoughtful. It was very rare to hear something about angels. They hadn’t been around for a long time. So allegedly seeing one in person was truly a surprise.

But where did you came from?

“I think we invited her that day at the temple” Zoey added.

“Still. Why would she want to be an idol?” Baby traduced for Mystery, who never moved or emitted a sound.

“Freedom” Jinu revealed, looking back at you, then at the bunch.

And then, you only confirmed to them your true nature as a big pair of puffy angel wings elevated you for your grand finale. Everyone thought it was part of the show, but only five demons and three hunters knew those pair of wings were real and attached to your body.

“But she’s so pretty” Romance cried.

“And our biggest common enemy” Mira reminded him.

“She’s going to be a problem for us”

“Did you say ‘us’?…” Jinu teased Rumi. The purple-haired girl rolled her eyes.

“Yes, us three; Huntr/x”

“Mhmm, though you were growing fond of me”

It was evident that the crowd loved you. Even from inside the studios, the fans outside watching the live performances were insane. The least some demon hunters needed when the Honmoon was weakening was an angel shoving at their faces how graceful and superior they were. And the least some demons needed was an angel distracting them, inciting them only to drop them against sharp edges.

…

Mira had the best moves, but you were more flexible. Zoey had the best speed for rapping but you had better rhymes, Rumi had the best vocals but you had better control of breathing so your high notes were longer. The Saja Boys were the most attractive idols in the industry at the moment but every corner of social media was full of fanfics, edits, and images of you. Your song “Stretch” was constantly heard in the Saja Boys residence, Abby always complained and wanted to turn off the TV but Baby wouldn’t let him. And in two hours, Jinu found them analyzing the lyrics, wondering if you meant to flirt with one of them since the song was about showing off how good you were in bed disguised with dancing.

Demons being delusional; Jinu thought.

Everyone was making trends of the choreography. And even Jinu heard Rumi humming your song once.

You had them foaming at the mouth.

Even worse when you confessed before entering a podcast session together that you were only an idol to annoy both demons and hunters. That you took so much joy in seeing them out of their minds. And that you expected them to be out of your way.

Soon they realized that your staff were also angels in disguise, there was no actual way to send an angel back to heaven if it wasn’t by their own will. But they could be punished if they didn’t guard/guide a human.

Everywhere they went, it was splattered all over the city: Y/N or Angel since fans gave you that suiting nickname.

Oh and, Zoeystery was replaced by Babygel, Miromabby for Abbygel, and Rujinu was quickly replaced with Jinugel in the trends around Twitter and TikTok. There was even a section for ships like Huntrangel, where you were shipped with the girls.

It was a mess.

Jinu took his free night to have a pleasant walk at night by his own. He walked through the streets and certainly lounged to be sitting with friends and a lover as many young adults did in the downtown of the city.

After all, the Saja Boys started as coworkers, but they were friends. And he knew it was ridiculous: a demon falling for an angel.

Myths usually stated that demons and angels getting together could break all curses and stabilize the evil and good of the human world.

But there was something about you that Jinu knew you were hiding. He knew there was a different woman under the skin of an annoying angel.

He looked around and saw your face in one of the tall buildings, There was an upcoming press conference to discuss the success of Huntr/x, Saja Boys, and you.

Jinu only sighed and kept walking, glasses, hoodie, and hands in his pockets to prevent lousy fans from coming after him. And when he focused on the sidewalk, he saw a woman getting out of a Mexican food restaurant.

Hair in a messy bun, glasses, hoodie, and chunky slippers under.

Jinu smirked, discovering it was you.

Subtly, he started following you. He smirked to himself and started to follow you.

You turned left, then left again, then right, and in less than ten minutes, you were at some park on a hill that Jinu hadn’t visited before. It reminded him of the place he went to see Rumi, but the place you ended up at was… different.

You were sitting on a cement bench, the smell of food traveling through the soft breeze of that afternoon as you ate in silence.

There you looked… peaceful, humanly even.

Jinu quietly made his way until he was steps away from you and you noticed.

“Jinu?” You asked, looking deeply, as if to confirm the man was actually there.

He simply took a seat beside you.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, seeing your beautiful profile.

“Angels are half humans just like some demons are, you know?” There was a little smile on your face that made Jinu smile as well. “I wanted to spend some time alone and-“

“I can always leave, sorry for “

“No, stay” you shushed him, then you simply went back to look at the skyline.

It was weird that neither of you was in idol mode where he was a demon and you an angel that hated each other. Just a man and a woman sitting on a bench.

“Was it weird to experience the human world for the first time?” He asked you with genuine curiosity, and you shrugged.

“Angels spend a lot of time with humans… we take care of them, as guardians. Despite not being actually here. But yeah…” Jinu notices your hostile tone and grows even more curious. “We’re just humans with wings and magic…”

“I think angels can be more than that” he said before thinking twice, Your eyes opened widely and Jinu noticed the pink spreading in your cheeks.

“I shouldn’t tell my problems to a demon but… that sassy angel persona is just a facade to use because I’m not very fond of your type nor hunters. But the truth is… I want to live freely”

“And I think I’m ashamed to admit that angels are not as tough as they seem” you admitted, looking down at your legs. You really shouldn’t be telling your problems to a demon, you should talk to your friends: Venus, Psique, Rose even the narcissist of Eros. But there you were, talking to Jinu because he seemed to have some humanity inside him.

“And I’m ashamed for not being tough enough on myself to prevent my past”

At that moment, both of you felt it. A strong connection, the feeling of reassurance, and… perhaps a spark.

Jinu offered a smile, and he wasn’t expecting you to smile back, but you did.

With the sun offering the famous “golden hour��, Jinu was able to see your true self. Very subtle coral undertone in your skin, pink eyes that glowed hypnotically, and… If demons had pointy dark red patterns across their bodies, angels had twirling dark pink patterns. He seemed surprised as you noticed he was staring at your naked arms.

“What? Didn’t know angels had patterns as well?” You teased with a chuckle.

Jinu quickly looked away, slightly embarrassed, then scratched his head awkwardly.

“They’re… pretty”

“Demon’s skin is also pretty” You didn’t know where that came from, but you weren’t lying, the Saja Boys were the prettiest demons you’d ever seen.

“Now, let’s pretend we are friends and are having dinner together” you offered him a fork and Jinu took it with a smile.

The demon realized he couldn’t make you take a side. He couldn’t prevent the effects of an angel on someone like him. But he found himself enjoying your company after all. And if things were different, it wouldn’t be terrible to be friends with you.

…

Everyone was annoyed. You could hear a crowd growing as the time to start the press conference approached. Your friend Psique was helping you tie your ballerina-style heels when you saw Jinu leaning against a wall, looking at you.

“They look heavy”

“Excuse me?” You asked in shock as Psique gagged in disbelief.

“Your shoes…” Jinu clarified, unaware of the perverted idea you and your friend had thought.

“Oh. Yeah…they’re not, actually” you answer, kicking the door of your dressing room with the golden heel.

“Hmm, well, I’ll see you backstage” Jinu gave a little smirk and you smiled back at him.

“Here’s your sheet of possible questions and the most appropriate answers, alright?” Psique handed you a pink paper and Jinu wondered if everything angels had was pink.

“Thanks” after Psique offered good luck, she whispered into your ear.

“What are you doing talking and sharing smiles with that demon?” She asked.

“He’s nice… actually all of the Saja Boys are, if they could choose, they wouldn’t be demons” your friend gasped in disbelief, she softly grabbed your hand.

“And if we could, we wouldn’t be angels, tied to guide someone to prevail, y/n. I know you’re smart, but be careful with them”

When you made it backstage, you saw Rumi talking with Jinu. When you first met them, you thought they had something going on. And seeing them talking so lost in each other, made your stomach flip.

An angel could experience jealousy ten times worse than a normal human. Nausea built in your gut and your hands sweat through your palms.

But realizing you were jealous because of Jinu, made you worry about what Psique said to you. You couldn’t like the Saja Boys, you couldn’t be in love with Jinu, and angels couldn’t love demons.

…

It was toxic of you to feel attracted to the Saja Boys. And knowing the effect you had on them made it even more cynical.

As the days passed and you had to interact with them, Baby and Romance had your number and started texting you. Always flirting, well, mostly Romance, Baby would send pictures of food and rate them without even starting an actual conversation. The gesture made you cackle and you started messaging back. Mystery once handed you a soda can and left without saying anything and made you so confused.

Abby was the one who shamelessly flirted with you and made your thighs squeeze together for some reason. He was funny, said very funny shit while waiting for interviews, fan meetings and show appearances.

You hadn’t talked much to Jinu, so it was immature to feel jealous. But every time you had seen him with Rumi, it made you form fists with your hands. Accidentally, you had overheard them talking about having meetings alone. And that Rumi had demon patterns, you were shocked. And the evil, egocentric splotches in your heart made you think that you could use that to your advantage if needed.

When it came to the girls, not much had changed. Only that Zoey seemed to be willing to talk to you, and she was fun. But you were thinking too much about them. When you and your friends were able to escape the angelic gates and step into the human world, all of you just wanted was to prove you deserved to be there, not only protecting humans through spiritual connections.

You were walking with no actual plans to do anything. Your hands were hidden in the pockets of your skirt and trying not to step into random cracks in the floor. And then, as you entered a random alley, you were pushed back by something.

Then you heard a growl and when you opened your eyes, you saw a demon running towards you.

In a flash, you stepped up, your featherwings appeared, elevating you just enough so your feet couldn’t touch the ground, with your ring transforming into a longspear that as soon as the demon jumped to attack you, your wings threw him back with a gust of wind, and when your longspear touched it, the creature was gone.

It happened so fast, you moved as your defense reflex activated on its own, and when you looked down, you saw Mira, Zoey, and Rumi looking at you perplexed. Apparently, they had a little hunting session going on.

You descended to the ground, your wings disappeared and the long spear too, returning to be an ordinary rose gold ring on your index finger.

With a sigh, you simply stared the them.

“That was nice” Zoey broke the ice, but you didn’t know what to answer.

“It won’t happen again, it was self-defense” you state before turning around and walking just where you came from.

“Wait-“ Rumi called. “I know you hate us and we are certainly not fond of you but… maybe we could work out some agreement to-“

“Gosh, tell me you haven’t been hunting for long enough, I can tell” you said with exasperation, turning back to look at her. “Whoever trained you, doesn’t know exactly what’s the deal between hunters, demons, and angels”

The three girls looked at each other, clearly accepting their ignorance.

“Ancient angels tried to make a deal with demons, to ensure they wouldn’t keep eating human souls, we gave them power… And they betrayed us” the cold breeze of the night with siren sounds at a distance only added tension for some reason, and you didn’t mean to fight or argue with them, but your tone wasn’t actually soft.

“When the problem aggravated, angels had to start slaying demons, you appeared asking for help, we provided weapons so you could help us, eventually hunters locked us in ‘heaven’ and took all the credit”

“Now we don’t have actual rights to be among humans, we just guide them so they can’t be targeted by demons. You can freely live like we used to… We are not interested in looking for balance anymore, we want to reclaim our stance here” you explained with confidence.

“And what will you and your friends do when demons get beyond the limit? When there are no humans left?” Mira asked, and you simply shrugged.

“I’m pretty sure my superiors will get to offer a deal to Gwi-Ma” They looked perplexed, even angered by your statement, but you didn’t care.

“You have the power to stop this and you prefer to not do anything? That’s such a cowardly move” Rumi yelled as you started walking away again.

“A liar won’t tell me I’m a coward, Rumi” you said and she went pale, In alert mode she stood as you walked backwards, looking at her with a sneer. “Perhaps Jinu will know what to do…”

She froze, Rumi was left speechless, caught with no actual fireback. You disappeared and Zoey and Mira started asking her what you meant by that.

“I think y/n is jealous” Zoey commented.

“Why?” Mira asked her with a frown.

“Duh, she likes Jinu” the three girls exchanged thoughtful looks.

Was it? Could it be? They weren’t sure… but it was heading to become the truth.

…

A picture of Abby helping you to do roman lifts at some prestigious gym went viral. It was a coincidence and only made you and the Saja Boys more popular, even surpassing Huntr/x.

Then someone leaked a video of Baby sharing some spicy chicken karaage with you and the fans went crazy.

Clips of Mystery and Romance fixated on you and everyone started questioning who would win the important Idol Awards.

When in reality, nobody was actually winning, Huntr/x was stuck, with Rumi avoiding to sing “Takedown”, the Saja Boys having Jinu go through a crisis and you were overwhelmed by everything that was happening.

Suddenly everyone was forgetting what the whole point was.

You were casually ordering a tofu burger at some solitary restaurant when you heard the click of a phone and then a flash.

When you looked over your shoulder, you saw Abby taking a picture of you, and judging by the angle of the grip on his phone, you could tell he took a picture of your waist and ass.

You had to suppress the urge to cackle. You paid and then turned to see the five demons staring at you. Baby and Jinu on the edges, then Mystery and Romance, Abby sitting at the head of the table, offering his back towards the big window of the place. You briefly eyed Jinu and he was the only one who didn’t have an evil teasing grin on his face. He looked distant…

“You better keep that picture to yourself” you say glaring back at Abby directly.

He winks and presses his phone against his toned chest.

“I can do more than that” Abby replies and the comment sounded so sultry that even Baby chuckled. You simply rolled your eyes and turned to grab your takeout bag.

The most infantilized member of the Saja Boys was actually the freakiest, you knew. He had the deepest voice and you knew he would be a wild ride if you ever ended up tangling with him. So you decided to crumple a little bit of his ego, you passed by his side and brushed your thumb across his lower lip, wiping away the smudged hot sauce. His eyes widened and stared at you in silence, simply shocked. Like everyone else, only Jinu wasn’t surprised, he was boiling with jealousy.

Well, Baby was literally being touched by an angel. It sure felt like heaven.

“There was hot sauce on your lips and chin…” you explained before leaving.

You opened the door and the warm rays of the sun hit you, You stopped to fish out your glasses from your bag.

“So what are you doing tomorrow at the Idol Awards?” Jinu appeared by your side, taking you by surprise since you hadn’t actually talked to him in a week, and you even forgot about your sunglasses. “Sticking with the girls or giving us a hand?”

“Why is everyone asking me to take a side?” You ask with your eyes focused on the sidewalk. “I don’t owe anything to demons or hunters as far as I know”

“Maybe because you can vanish us with a snap of your fingers or simply move out of the way of any demon hunter” Jinu said. He looked tired, still gorgeous but looked… irritable.

“I don’t know, as an angel I don’t want to get my hands dirty…”

“What happened to the honest woman talking to me at the park, huh?” he asked with defiance and you couldn’t recall seeing Jinu so angry like he was at that moment.

“Honest? I’m pretty sure you aren’t telling me your whole plan, man. You demons always cary a knife behind your backs”

You remembered confessing how you felt and being vulnerable to him. But you were so… confused. Maybe things were happening at the same time and your feelings were all over the place. But your silence didn’t do much, but only irritated Jinu more.

“Everyone’s right about demons. But angels are just a lie, they don’t care to actually help, they are resentful egoists. And you are the solid proof of it”

“Jinu-“ you tried to calm him, despite feeling your eyes growing wet.

“You are just like a greedy demon thinking only about yourself” Right after he finished that sentence, he heard a little yelp from you and noticed you started crying.

You could feel the eyes of the rest of the Saja Boys looking through the restaurant’s window. The unbearable feeling of shame was something you couldn’t stand, something you hadn’t experienced in a long time. And you couldn’t hide it, what Jinu said was true.

You glared at him and couldn’t comprehend whether he was perplexed or confused by your tears. Only that you didn’t let him add any more words. You simply brushed past him and started walking away.

Jinu sighed, turned around, and called for your name once, but you didn’t look back, you simply walked and walked until you disappeared from his sight.

When he returned to the table, everyone was eating quietly.

Jinu looked at his partners and sighed, already knowing what they were thinking.

“That wasn’t nice” Romance commented.

“She was crying?” Abby asked still looking outside.

“Yeah, I was mean. I know already!” Jinu answered and everyone was extremely quiet.

…

He didn’t mean to make you cry. But he was growing desperate, with Gwi-Ma trailing behind him, the mixed feelings he had for Rumi and you ignoring him for days… it made his guilt and desire to end it all even bigger. But after making you cry, Jinu felt even worse. It reminded him of causing his family pain, making them tear up, and creating a barrier between them. Despite barely knowing you, he was pretty sure the woman he talked to at the park was the real you. The comfort of being by your side was real. And he didn’t want it to end.

So when he didn’t find you at your place, only a bunch of silly angels partying, not worried about where you were, he went to look around the city.

In your usual evening walks, you decided for once to simply enjoy the last rays of the sun, you didn’t want to be bothered by anything.

But you weren’t lucky enough. As you started walking around in an empty park, you noticed a demon, and he started chasing after you subtly. And much to your dismay, you had forgotten your ring. And since there were still a few people around, you couldn’t just spread your wings and fly away.

Hence why, Jinu found you being cornered by a demon in some dark woods that surrounded the park. He went straight to save you. You didn’t notice him at first sight, but when you felt the demon being pushed aside, you took a big breath before turning to see Jinu punching him to send him back to the demon realm.

The woods creaked, birds chirping in the distance, but you just stood there looking at Jinu in silence. The distance grew closer and you only got to move backwards a few steps before you ended up trapped between his chest and a random tree.

The demon he truly was, was facing you. Lilac skin, dark patterns, fangs, glowy eyes, and imposing form were there.

His eyes traced your face and neck to see if you were hurt, but you were fine.

“I’m sorry…” he said, much to your surprise.

“What?”

“I didn’t want to make you cry…” he admitted, eyes still burning into yours.

His proximity made you feel nervous, anxious, and… eager. Ever since the first time you encountered him at the same park where you were, you knew he had something.

“I wanted to forget everything. But now I just want you to make me repent my sins” his nose brushed your neck and it made you shiver, almost letting out a little gasp, but you remained still.

“That isn’t how ‘Your Idol’ goes…” as you attempted to joke, he only eyed you with curiosity.

“Are you and your little friends spying on me and the guys?” Finally, you were able to make him smirk, the air felt lighter, but the tension was only rising.

“I mostly know everything. Including the upcoming Saja Boys' releases” Jinu chuckled, and his hands came to press your stomach, pushing further against the tree, feeling his soft abs against your thin top.

“Jinu…” you tried to reason before it was too late. He was dangerously close to you and didn’t look interested in moving away.

He noticed your human appearance and how it contrasted with his demon self. You weren’t scared or disgusted, you couldn’t care less.

His pointed fingers went to grab your chin and the way he looked at you was so sweet. Through his bright eyes, you could feel affection.

“I can hear him in my head…” Jinu revealed.

“Gwi-Ma?” He nodded and your fingers went to brush his hair, swiftly tangling with his raven locks, he smelled nice, his hair extra soft, his worries so honest. He was so human despite being a demon. So you smiled, urging to snuggle between your neck and shoulders. He stayed there a while, in silence.

At what moment were you consoling a demon in pain? He was good, he deserved another chance.

Even more interesting, why were you kissing him? You liked him…

He wanted control, for once you allowed it. His lips took the lead and left you with nothing but a trail of soft whimpers as you felt his sneaky fingers tracing circles in your hipbone.

“You’re doing it well” you whispered on his lips.

“What thing? Kissing and touching you?”

“No, asshole. I mean to seal your faith…” you say before letting his tongue meet yours. “But yeah, keep kissing and touching me like that…”

“I can help you and everyone” you admitted as he trailed your neck with soft pecks that made you whimper louder. “But I don’t know if it’s worth it…”

“Please, y/n, think about it…” he whispered in your lips.

His words flying away as you allowed Jinu to slide his hand under your shirt.

…

Your song “For You…” almost sealed the Honmoon at the Idol Awards. You could see the gold mixing with pink, but it wasn’t enough, then, when Huntr/x started their performance, you soon understood Jinu was behind their failure. It was part of his plan, to manipulate fans so they would go to the Saja Boys’ concert, the final performance to bring Gwi-Ma and unleash chaos. Your friends suggested that to actually go back home, to inform superiors so they could intervene. They were exactly what Rumi and Jinu said about angels; narcissistic egoistic cowards. In your head, their words started haunting your thoughts. So you didn’t follow back to the gates of heaven…

No matter how many demons kicked you, pulled your hair, and tried to sink their sharp fangs at you, they never reached further, you would always give the last punch and send them back to hell.

One with six arms and gargoyle wings was able to send you to the floor. Your longspear would go deep enough to aim at the creature’s chest and make him disappear.

You felt two pairs of hands helping you tos and up and when you turned around, you saw Mystery and Zoey. A little smile appeared on your face when you noticed that the Saja Boys were doing exactly what they weren’t supposed to. Then you turned to look at the stage, and you could see Jinu and Gwi-Ma.

There was one way to stop everything. And you weren’t even sure if it would work. But it was for sure that the price to pay would be great.

Just when you were steps away from attacking Gwi-Ma, a strong hand came to grip your wrist. You knew it was Jinu, his demon patterns could be felt, and when you turned to see him, he was looking at you with those bright yellow glowy eyes.

The 400-year-old demon knew very well that old tale; an angel could use all of its power to stop a great curse but it would be their sacrifice. Meaning that you would either die or vanish.

But you only smiled sadly at him.

“Jinu, it’s okay…” you assured him, brushing his cheek with your fingers. He didn’t want to let you go.

“No! I won’t let you die because of me!” He yelled, desperate and adding more strength to the grip of your wrist.

“It’ll be worth it, I promise” It tormented you how sad he seemed, how stressed he felt, and how badly he wanted to keep you by his side. “His voice in your head will stop, the boys will be okay, the Honmoon will be healed. And you can be… with her”

Jinu shook his head quickly and stepped even closer.

“I don’t want her! I want you!” He said pointing with his head at Rumi at a distance fighting and then looked back at you. “I just want you…”

“It’ll pass, Jinu…” your wings spread and he couldn’t hold his grip as you started to elevate slowly, your hands grabbed his face and you placed a quick kiss on his lips. “Just like it always does, love…”

You yanked your hands from his, and offering him a last kiss, you flew away.

Your wings had never made you fly so fast, but as you confidently reached Gwi-Ma, time seemed to have stopped. One of the last things you saw was Rumi, looking at you in surprise, as if she was about to tell you to not go further. The flames of Gwi-Ma started to make you sweat as you reached closer, all of your strength ready to attack and when your longspear touched the demon, the whole stadium was blinded.

The purple flames embraced your body until the demons were gone, vanishing into ashes and the music kept playing. The crowds chanted, screamed, and kept singing as your body collapsed to the floor.

Unable to understand if your actions had done anything, unsure if you were dying, you heard Jinu’s voice, a warm touch on your arm, and a sense of tranquility as your eyes shut closed.

Jinu did everything to stay by your side and make sure you kept breathing. He even got you a new manager and bribed him to tell your sudden hospitalization was due to social pressure. When the doctors asked what happened, Baby recommended saying you accidentally fainted while about to enter a sauna.

Still, Jinu patiently waited a month till you opened your eyes again.

…

Nervously, you were biting your nails. Your skin itched, felt dry, and cracked.

Two months had passed since the Idol Awards, Rumi and you did most of the job saving everyone. You lost your wings, your whole body was covered in burns and Jinu was being too insistent on flirting with you.

“It’s going to be fine, you’ll see…” Zoey told you, tapping at your bandaged hand as she and Mira flipped through a magazine in your hospital room.

“Ugh great… the boys are here” Rumi complained from the door, her head peaking outside before she turned around with a big roll of her eyes.

“They’re good now, give them a break” you told her and she sighed.

Now they were your friends. You didn’t know how, but as you got to stay in the human world, Huntr/x girls thanked you and then befriended you.

The Saja Boys were just like you, half human, half angel, and half demons. They still had some abilities and their patterns were still visible but very subtly. Just like you…

“We brought two pizza boxes, beers, and a chocolate cake” Abby was the first one to arrive. If you weren’t so amused with Jinu, you would be all over the muscular man. He made you laugh so much and he was sweet. He also flirted with you and never denied how badly he wanted to have you all for himself.

“We still don’t have the results, dummy. But thanks” you told him with a smile that he replied. He had a new lilac beanie that matched his hooded tracksuit.

“We made a bet. Baby says we’ll be able to peel your scars. Mystery and I don’t think so” Romance announced, followed by the rest of the bandmates.

“Peel my scars?” You cackled at the boys, then Jinu entered the room and rolled his eyes at them. Mystery went to sit with Zoey and Mira’s slid away from Romance and Abby when they sat sandwiching her.

“Ignore them. They’re enjoying our vacations too much” Jinu said as he handed you a bouquet of flowers and kissed your visible cheek. You thanked him, smelling the lilies and white roses.

“Aww, Jinu! You didn’t have to give me anything”

“It’s for good luck”

“Hey! The flowers were my idea!” Romance protested.

“And I picked the flowers!” Abby yelled.

You couldn’t help but laugh with Rumi. Despite being bandaged and probably scarred, the boys kept fighting for you. Except for Mystery, he seemed more interested in Zoey, and it was adorable. But the four resting assholes still found beauty and grace in your healing self.

“Well, thank you guys. I love these flowers” Rumi took the bouquet and went to grab a jar and fill it with water. And then, your doctor appeared.

“I have the results!” Everyone stood up, except for you obviously.

The room went silent. And it only made you sweat a little more.

“Can you just say it, doc? Please?” Baby inquired.

“The skin is peeling by itself!” The doctor squealed with excitement.

“You all owe me some money” Baby cheered as he bumped his fist against Abby’s hard chest.

Zoey went to hug you and you started hearing cheers, as if you had just birthed a baby, everyone was celebrating and congratulating you. It made you laugh.

“We can start to pull the dead skin away right away if you want to” you nodded at the doctor.

She went to grab some cloth, tweezers, and urged you to sit. Jinu and Rumi helped you and when your back was facing everyone, the doctor slid down your hospital gown.

“Let’s take a look under the bandages” nervously, looking at the ceiling. While you didn’t care about everyone seeing your naked back, you didn’t want it to hurt when the bandages were removed. The doctor untangled the bandages and then removed the big piece the gauze covering your back.

“It’s unusual because your skin tone is a little pink” the doctor pointed out and you let out a little fake giggle.

“Yeah, she looked like a shrimp when she was a baby” Jinu commented and you eyed him over your shoulder, he simply shrugged as everyone chuckled.

“He’s your brother?” the doctor asked.

“I’m her boyfriend” the man defended himself.

“Almost-boyfriend” Abby interfered making you smile. Jinu sent him daggers with his eyes.

You felt the cold tweezers in your back and everyone let out a little “woah”.

Your body was healing and under the dead burnt skin, everything was soft and looked healthy. Your arms and back were almost completely healed and there was an almost invisible new pattern across your body. Jinu suspected you still had wings, only that now, they were part of your soul and not of your mortal body.

“Yep, the treatment worked! I had never treated an idol with third-degree burns in my life!” It was the best hospital in the city, where all idols were treated.

Since the day you arrived, slowly, more fans discovered you were there. They had left thousands of letters, gifts, and notes asking if you were pregnant with Baby’s, Abby's or Jinu’s baby and couldn’t be seen in public due to the bump. Which made you gag and then cackle till tears were pricking in your eyes. Baby’s baby, lol.

“Tell your lovely friends over here if they can start you and help you take a bath” the nice doctor indicated. “I’ll go for the rest of your medication and likely, you’ll be able to leave tonight”

You nodded, sighing in relief. You had an album to finish, a new room in the Huntr/x’ place to move in, and many things to do with your almost boyfriend Jinu.

“We can totally help with the bath” Baby said with excitement, starting to pull down the rest of your gown but Zoey smacked his hand.

“We are so definitely taking her to the tub!” Mira threatened as she entered the bathroom with the girls.

“Nothing I haven’t seen already” Jinu whispered in your ear and you pinched his arm, making him groan in pain.

“Ouch!” he complained, holding his arm.

The boys started to serve plates with food, Rumi, Mira, and Zoey to prepare the tub.

“Hey, do not finish the food!” you heard Rumi yelling from inside the bathroom as Mira and Zoey panicked because the room was fogging up too quickly.

“So… Abby suggested we could share you” Your eyes went wide at Jinu’s words.

The idea wasn’t totally bad, but you knew that having a healthy monogamist relationship was better than letting four men share you. Still, in your wild fantasies, each boy had a weekday reserved for you.

“That sounds fun. What did you tell them?” You were teasing him and he went for it. “Of course not. You’re mine, angel…”

You bumped your forehead with his and smiled.

“Yeah… I think you’re mine too” you accepted.

୨ৎ───୨ৎ───୨ৎ───୨ৎ───୨ৎ

Taglist: @loomindoors @katzline @elz-zalarrr @mel3484

[oldmannapping]

The gang tries Tik Tok

Red Robin: "We're vigilantes, of course we fall asleep at our day job."

Spoiler: "We're vigilantes, of course we have unresolved daddy issues."

Nightwing: "We're vigilantes, of course we put on a smile to hide the unfathomable trauma from the relentless horrors we see every day."

Red Robin: "Wait, no, that's not-"

[cut]

Signal: "We're Gotham vigilantes, of course we have a favorite Batburger meal."

Red Hood: "We're Gotham vigilantes, of course we have a favorite gargoyle."

Nightwing: "We're Gotham vigilantes, of course we have to exist outside of a system that is soulless and corrupt while barely making a dent in the abysmal crime rate."

Signal: "Dude."

[cut]

Oracle: "We're vigilantes, of course we know your passwords."

Robin: "We're vigilantes, of course we carry a backup sword."

Nightwing: "We're vigilantes, of course we spell it R-I-C without the K."

Oracle: "CUT."

[xx-dinah-writing-xx]

Closer to Gods Than to Men

Daemon Targaryen x reader

Angst

————

They married you to him like they were feeding a lamb to a dragon.

You remember the heat of the sept, the scent of incense thick in your throat, the weight of the crown prince’s eyes as he stared past you as though you were glass. Daemon Targaryen stood tall and regal, but the disinterest on his face burned more than hatred ever could. He did not sneer. He did not spit. He did not draw his sword in protest. He simply tolerated your presence, just as he might endure a dull ache in his jaw or a stone in his boot. His hand held yours for the briefest moment during the ceremony, cold and still and impersonal, and when the vows were said, and the crowd erupted into applause, he did not lean in to kiss you. He walked away before your hand had even fallen to your side.

That was the beginning.

The days that followed passed like a slow suffocation. The walls of your new chambers were made of dark stone and darker silences. The servants bowed, but they spoke in hushed tones when you entered. The courtiers smiled with pity you refused to acknowledge. And your husband, your prince, spoke to you less than anyone else.

You would hear his boots in the hall, the low murmur of his voice as he dismissed guards or issued orders. But when he crossed the threshold into your shared spaces, he barely looked at you. He dined without speaking, drank wine until his tongue loosened for others, but not for you. His gaze remained distant, drifting past you, seeing everything but you.

He did not touch you. Not in anger, nor affection. Not even to claim what had been handed to him in marriage. And in a way, that hurt more than any cruelty ever could. Because indifference is its own kind of violence.

You stopped hoping for more after the first fortnight. You stopped dressing to please him. You stopped waiting for him to ask questions about your past, your interests, your favorite poems or perfumes. He did not care. And so you buried the girl who cared beneath layers of courtesy, compliance, and quiet. You learned to live beside a man who wished you were someone else.

The days turned into weeks. You slept alone, even in the same bed. He came and went as he pleased, always shrouded in armor or irritation. The only thing that seemed to spark any emotion in him was a blade, or his dragon, or Viserys’s ever-disappointing council meetings. You became part of the furniture. A shadow in his household. A silent woman in a home filled with echoes.

And then you began to bleed. Not the kind that came with moons, but something darker. Heavier. Something that made your limbs tremble and your head swim. You collapsed once in the corridor, and the maesters rushed to your side with furrowed brows and worried murmurs. They examined, they prodded, they whispered behind closed doors. When you asked for the truth, their voices softened with grief.

Your body was dying. Some sickness in the blood. Something slow, merciless, and beyond their skill to cure.

You kept it to yourself.

You had already grown used to the idea of not being loved. You could grow used to the idea of not being alive.

It wasn’t until the second collapse, in front of a noble visiting from Oldtown, that Daemon noticed something was wrong. You had tried to excuse yourself, to stand, to hide the trembling in your hands, but your legs gave out and the world tilted sharply. And suddenly he was there, catching you before you hit the stone. His arms were stronger than you expected, rough where yours were delicate, and he held you for a moment too long. Long enough for your breath to catch, long enough for his to slow.

He carried you to your chambers without a word.

After that day, something changed. Not immediately. He still vanished for hours. Still spoke little. But sometimes you would look up from your books and find him watching you from across the room, his expression unreadable. Other times he would brush your fingers with his as he passed you a cup, and though it might have seemed accidental, you knew it was not. He began to sit with you at meals instead of eating in the solar. He would speak, just a few words at first, asking after your noon activities or the book in your lap. But his voice no longer sounded like steel. It sounded curious. Careful.

He asked you once if you feared dying. You were lying in the garden, the sun warm on your face, the scent of lemons in the air, and his voice broke the silence like a knife in water.

“No,” you answered softly, eyes on the sky. “But I fear never having lived.”

He did not reply for a long while. Then he lay beside you on the grass, so close your fingers nearly touched.

“I hated you,” he said. “At first. Because you were a cage. Another chain Viserys wrapped around my throat.”

“I know,” you whispered.

“But you are not a chain. You are the only thing in this castle that does not suffocate me.”

The breeze carried your breath away before you could find words.

After that, he stopped pretending not to care.

He brought you wildflowers. He sat with you by the fire and told you stories of Dragonstone’s past. He ran his fingers through your hair when you could no longer braid it yourself. He kissed you for the first time in the courtyard after the rain, your cheeks wet and your lungs tight, and it felt like something desperate, something he had been holding back for too long.

You let yourself hope. You let yourself believe.

And for a little while, you were not just Daemon Targaryen’s wife. You were the woman he wanted. The woman he held when sleep eluded him. The woman he murmured to in the dark.

He touched you like he was afraid you would vanish. He kissed you like he needed to remember the shape of your mouth. He held you close enough that the sickness almost seemed to retreat. Almost.

But the gods are cruel.

They are especially cruel to Targaryens, those born of fire and blood, who walk closer to heaven and madness than any mortal should. They are not meant for peace. Not meant for joy. And so they gave him you, and then they took you away.

You were lying together in the garden that evening.

It was unusually warm for that time of year. The skies had taken on a golden hue, and the sea wind had softened to a gentle hum. The servants had laid out furs beneath the blooming lemon trees, and you had sunk into them like something boneless, your head resting against Daemon’s thigh. His fingers carded through your hair, unhurried, almost absentminded, like he still could not quite believe you allowed it. Or maybe that he allowed himself to do it.

He had been telling you about a boyhood hunt on Dragonstone, his voice rough with smoke and memory. You only listened half-heartedly, too content, too tired, tracing invisible circles on the back of his hand where it lay across your stomach.

You did not feel it at first. Just a tickle in your throat.

Then the taste.

Salt. Metal.

You sat up, one slow motion at a time, blinking. You wanted to say his name, but something rose up too fast from your lungs, hot and choking.

Daemon’s brows furrowed. “What is it?”

Your eyes widened. Your lips parted.

The blood came quickly.

A hot rush flooded your mouth, spilling between your teeth before you could cover it. You turned your head, gasping, but it was already pouring down your chin, staining your gown, the furs, your fingers. You tried to speak but only coughed violently, red splattering across your lap like spilled ink.

He stared at you for one stunned moment. Then everything changed.

“Someone fetch the maesters!” he roared, already gathering you in his arms, your body limp and shivering. “Now!”

You tried to breathe, but each inhale came shorter, sharper, as though your lungs had been turned inside out. Blood bubbled at the corners of your lips. You could feel it dribble down your neck, thick and wet and warm. He pressed his hand against your back, tried to lift you upright, to help you breathe.

You could hear him saying your name.

Again and again.

Frightened. Furious.

“Look at me,” he commanded, voice cracking. “You are fine. Do you hear me? You are fine. Look at me. Look at me, godsdammit.”

But your gaze had already gone glassy. You blinked, slow and languid. The pain in your chest twisted, then dulled, as if the world had been plunged into water. His face swam in front of you. You tried to lift your hand to his cheek, but it slipped down your side, useless.

He held you tighter. His eyes were wild. His mouth moved around prayers he did not believe in.

You coughed again, a terrible, gurgling sound, thick with blood, like a dying animal with its throat cut. The taste of it drowned your tongue. You could not speak. Could not ask him not to cry. Could not tell him that you had known, that you had made peace with it long ago.

Your fingers twitched once. Then stilled.

And just like that, you were gone.

Daemon did not realize it at first. He kept shaking you, calling your name like a man possessed, his voice rising and breaking and turning into something hoarse and broken. He clutched you close, the blood soaking into his clothes, his hands stained crimson.

By the time the maesters arrived, he was on his knees, cradling your body in his arms, rocking it gently, like a father might soothe a sleeping child.

He did not look up.

Not even when they touched his shoulder. Not even when they spoke his name.

He stayed there long after your skin cooled, until the stars came out, and the fireflies buzzed low to the ground, and the entire world felt insultingly unchanged.

His face was wet, though no one ever saw him weep.

He had told you once that he hated cages. That he hated being chained.

But in the end, it was your death that bound him tighter than any crown, any throne, any war.

He had waited too long to love you.

And now there was no time left.

They say Targaryens are closer to gods than to men.

But the gods, in their jealousy, curse them all the same.

————

They dressed you in white.

He had not asked for it, but the servants must have known. Or perhaps they feared what he would do if it wasn’t done right. There were things one didn’t risk with Daemon Targaryen — especially not when his wrath was being held together by a single, fraying thread.

The room where your body lay was filled with flowers. Lilies and hyacinth. Roses from the gardens you loved. Someone had braided your hair with little sprigs of jasmine. He had not touched you since the blood dried. Could not bring himself to clean it from his hands.

He wore it still. Under his nails. In the lines of his palms. A mark he would not wash away.

He had not spoken since that night. Not properly. His brother had written. So had Rhaenyra. He burned both letters unopened.

There was a silence in the castle now. Not the peaceful kind. The kind that crept like smoke through the stones, heavy with waiting. The servants did not look him in the eye. The guards stood stiff at their posts. Even Caraxes kept his distance, pacing restlessly in the pits.

Daemon spent his days in the solar. The room you loved. The one you filled with books and candles and things he used to mock you for, once upon a time. He sat in your chair, legs spread, arms limp at his sides, as if the effort of holding himself upright was just too much.

That was where he found the letter.

Not tucked away. Not hidden in some secret compartment. But right there. On the desk. Beneath the paperweight he had once seen you use.

It was sealed with wax. Pressed with your signet. His name written in your hand.

He stared at it for a long time.

Then he opened it.

Your writing was softer than he remembered. You must have been trembling when you wrote it. The ink in places looked smudged, as if your fingers had dragged over the lines before they dried.

Daemon,

If you are reading this, then I am gone. And you are furious.

Please do not shatter the solar. Or fly to Oldtown and burn the Citadel. Or kill anyone. I know you. I know your fury. And if I could stay, I would have. If I could give you more time, I would have stolen it from the gods themselves.

But I knew. For months, I knew. I felt it in my bones, in my blood. The maesters confirmed it, though they dressed it in kinder words. I chose not to tell you. Not because I wanted to lie. But because, for the first time since our wedding, you began to look at me like I mattered. And I could not bear to take that from myself. From you.

You hated me when we wed. You never pretended otherwise. I had made peace with that. I had made peace with dying alone, unloved. But then you changed. Or maybe I did. And we met each other somewhere in the middle, where the silence broke and your hands finally stopped trembling when they held mine.

It was enough, Daemon. It was everything.

You gave me laughter in my final days. You gave me the warmth of being seen. Touched. Held. I did not want our love to be shaped by grief. I did not want to spend what little time I had watching you fall apart.

So I let myself have you, just as you let yourself have me. And that is how I want you to remember it. Not as a tragedy. But as a mercy the gods rarely give our kind.

You were never a cage to me. You were freedom.

Please remember that.

Yours,

Always,

Your Wife

Daemon did not move for a long time after reading it.

The air in the solar turned thick. The candle flames bent in the wind.

He read the letter again. And again. And again. As if somewhere in the repetition, the truth might change.

But it didn’t.

You had known.

All that time. You had known.

You had lain in his arms, smiled at him, let him whisper promises into your hair, knowing you would never live to see them kept.

He crushed the letter in his fist. Rose from the chair. For a moment it seemed like he might upend the entire desk, splinter it into a thousand pieces, tear the books from their shelves and set them alight.

But he didn’t.

He only turned toward your empty chair.

And knelt.

He pressed his forehead to the place where you always rested your hands. The wood was worn there. He remembered once watching you tap your fingers against it while reading. He had mocked you for it. You had smiled.

Now, he would have given anything to hear that sound again.

“You should have told me,” he said softly. It came out cracked. Barely a whisper. “You should have told me.”

The grief settled into his bones, not like fire, but like frost. Cold and slow and permanent.

You had not died in his arms like a queen, soft and serene. You had choked on your own blood like something hunted. And he had not even known why.

He thought he hated you once.

But nothing compared to how much he hated the silence you left behind.

[ponderingmoonlight]

How you accidentally made Dante look like a hero again

Pairing: Dante x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,6k

Synopsis: All you wanted was to outsmart Dante and prove he was setting you up for demon attacks in order to get closer to you. Instead, you ended up buried under library rubble, fighting off scorpion demons, and getting saved by him — again. This is why you have trust issues.

Warnings: swearing, kinda enemies to lovers dynamic, I just love Dante y'all need to have mercy with me lol

You’re starting to think you’re cursed.

That’s the only explanation for it. How else do you keep ending up in demon-infested alleys, haunted casinos, and - once - dangling upside down from a stolen motorcycle, twice in the same week? No average person deserves so much distress.

But even worse: every time - every damn time - there’s Dante.

Bursting in like he’s auditioning for an action movie. Guns blazing, coat flaring behind him, a cocky smirk plastered across his stupidly handsome face.

God, how much you hate that guy.

…do you?

"Oh no," you mutter under your breath when you spot him swaggering through the chaos yet again.

"Not this asshole."

"Miss me, babe?" he calls, spinning his sword once before cleaving a demon in half like it's no big deal.

You barely dodge a flying claw, pretty used to almost dying by now.

"Dante, why are there hellhounds in the laundromat?! I just came here to do my laundry!"

He winks at you like this is all part of some grand romantic plan.

"You know. Crazy city. You never know what’s gonna happen. Nice panties by the way, wish I could see them up close."

You stare at him, sceptical to say the least, as he shoots a demon that was two inches away from biting your head off.

"This is the fourth time this month. And every time you're 'coincidentally' nearby!"

He strolls over, casually beheading something with his sword like he's just stretching his legs. How many times have you seen this already? Probably like a hundred times.

This month.

"Fate works in mysterious ways, sweetheart."

You gawk at him. No, the thing he calls fate can’t be an accident. There is literally no way in hell that you get attacked even more often than himself. There has to be another reason. Could it be that…?

"Are you setting this up?!"

He gives you a look, all fake innocence and devilish grin.

That bastard.

"Who, me? Nahhh. Demons just have a thing for damsels. Lucky for you... I'm a professional knight in shining armor."

A piece of ceiling collapses dangerously close to you. You flinch for once. Dante doesn’t even blink, just throws an arm around your waist and throws you out of the way with way too much enthusiasm.

You land on your back with a grunt, staring up at the cracked ceiling and wondering what life choices led you here. Where did you take a wrong turn to deserve this? Being liked by a hot guy is all fun and games until the name of that jerk is Dante Sparda, apparently.

Dante leans over you, upside-down, grinning like a maniac.

"You good? Need mouth-to-mouth?" he offers helpfully.

You shove him off you, the heat of his body almost devouring you whole.

"I’m getting a restraining order."

"You say that, but then who’s gonna save you next time you almost get eaten by a possessed vending machine?"

You open your mouth to argue - and realize you have no idea how to deal with possessed vending machines. You groan, burying your face in your hands.

“Maybe you’re the one who possesses everything around me…”

Dante pats your head fondly like you’re some kind of beloved but very dumb kitten.

"You mean like your thoughts? Most definitely, yeah. But don't worry, babe," he coos cheerfully, "I'll always be there to save your pretty little ass."

You’re pretty sure that’s supposed to be comforting. Instead, you start mentally drafting your will.

“Get off me now, I need to get going jerk. And stop staring at my panties”, you hiss through gritted teeth while getting up, packing your things and leaving.

No, this isn’t an accident, not your fault by any means. Dante is the one who sets all of this shit up.

“That fucker…”, you mutter to yourself, slamming the door shut in fury.

You can’t do this anymore, can’t take seeing a demon each time you leave your house. You’ll have to teach him a lesson.

Yes, there has to be a way to stop this madness once and for all.

“I’ll catch you mid-act, Dante…”

You hatch a plan.

A pretty simple one: bait Dante into showing up, catch him red-handed, and finally prove he's arranging all this chaos.

You pick the most boring, demon-unfriendly place you can think of: the public library. No shady alleys, no creepy neon signs, no way in hell anything supernatural is hanging out between the tax law section and the dusty romance novels.

You text him a fake tip, something about "possible demonic activity" near the library, totally urgent, definitely needs his professional attention.

Then you sit back, tuck yourself into a corner with a stack of books, and wait.

Ten minutes pass. Twenty. Thirty.

No Dante.

You start to relax. Maybe he finally got the hint. Maybe he's actually busy for once. Did your words from yesterday finally stir something inside of his brain?

And that's when the ceiling caves in.

You shriek as a massive scorpion demon crashes through the roof, scattering books and terrified civilians everywhere. Librarians are running for their lives. An entire row of encyclopedias explodes in a puff of dusty chaos, taking your sight while you desperately try to crawl out of the scene.

Fuck, this wasn’t supposed to happen. That definitely wasn’t written on your bingo card for today.

"What the hell?!" you shout, diving behind a bookshelf just in time before a whole fucking shelf bumps onto the ground next to you.

"HEY BABY!" a too-familiar voice yells from somewhere in the smoke.

You peek out and see Dante standing atop the checkout desk, dual pistols in hand, grinning like this is the best day of his life.

"Miss me?"

You stare at him, speechless. No, this has to be a dream. This was supposed to be a trap, you set him off in order to finally find him guilty. And now this?

"HOW?!"

He jumps off the desk, unloading a round of bullets into the demon's face like it’s a casual Tuesday.

"You sent me the text! Good instincts, by the way - I was gonna ignore it, but then I figured, ‘Hey, if my girl’s around, probably gonna be some action.’ And look! Action!"

You dodge a flying claw and seriously consider strangling him with a library card cord.

"I SENT YOU A FAKE TEXT!" you shout over the sound of gunfire.

"THERE WASN’T SUPPOSED TO BE A REAL DEMON!"

"Aw," Dante replies, kicking a demon minion into a copy machine, "you’re so modest. You’re like a magnet for this stuff."

You have no time to argue. The giant scorpion is bearing down on you. You grab the nearest weapon, a hardcover dictionary about curse words in Spanish, and hurl it at its head. It bounces off harmlessly. Yeah, what a surprise, actually.

Dante whistles low, impressed.

"Good arm, babe. But here - lemme show you how it's done."

Before you can blink, he’s in front of you, sword flashing, doing some ridiculously show-offy spin move that absolutely wasn’t necessary but looks cool as hell anyway.

The demon collapses with a final screech.

Silence falls over the destroyed library.

Books smolder, paper flutters in the air like sad confetti. Somewhere, a printer makes a pathetic beep before dying.

You sit down heavily on the floor, dazed.

Dante strolls over, all proud, offering you a hand up.

"No need to thank me. It’s kinda my thing."

You stare at him, mind still processing what just happened. Your mission failed – miserably, so say the least.  

"I literally TRIED to set you up."

"And look how well it worked!" he declares brightly.

"You lured out the bad guys! You're a natural at this demon-hunting stuff. I'm so proud."

You want to punch him. You want to kiss him. You want to punch him then kiss him.

Instead, you let him pull you to your feet, dusting off your scorched jacket.

"I'm never texting you again," you grumble.

"Sure you will," Dante coos, flashing that stupid, charming grin.

"You can't resist me."

You open your mouth to argue - and immediately get tackled to the ground as a second, smaller demon leaps from the wreckage.

You land with a painful thud, pinned beneath Dante’s weight as he shoots over your head, finishing off the last monster.

When the danger’s over, he stays there for an awkward beat too long, smirking down at you.

"See? Told ya. Always there to catch ya when you fall."

You groan, covering your face with your hands while absolutely hating how good his body weight feels on top of you, how surprisingly good that asshole of a man smells.

"I'm going to die of second-hand embarrassment."

"Nah," Dante retorts confidently, getting up and pulling you with him again.

"If anyone’s gonna kill you, it’s gonna be something way cooler. Like a demon. Or a possessed espresso machine."

You squint at him.

 "You’re not gonna let this go, are you?"

He slings an arm around your shoulders like he owns the place, like the ablaze library isn’t his fault at all, and leads you toward the exit.

"Nope. You're stuck with me, sweetheart."

You sigh.

Maybe getting a new phone and a new name wouldn’t be the worst idea.

…Or just giving in.

[dying-suffering-french-stalkers]

My fellow Missourians, I CAN CONFIRM: you can go to an early voting satellite and cast your ballot right now with absolutely no questions asked. Source: I just did it 👍

If you, like me, want to alleviate a modicum of anxiety by Doing Your Part early (even if you're in town and able to do it on the proper day!), this was super easy and I highly recommend it.

As long as you are registered to vote, simply present your ID. I can also confirm that you can use just a driver's license (even if it still has an old, hours-away address on it bc it hasn't yet expired and you can't be assed to go change it until you absolutely have to).

In addition to electing our first woman president and ratio-ing a cringefail fascist (to put it lightly, for my health), YOU 🫵, Missouri voter, also have the opportunity to:

Re-legalize and furthermore enshrine abortion and other reproductive rights in Missouri, while explicitly banning federal initiatives from fucking it up in the future

Oust two (2) of the chucklefucks who tried to block you from being able to vote on the above at all! Ensure that they receive instant karma by voting NO to retaining Judges Broniec and Gooch on the MO Supreme Court

Prevent the GOP from pulling a similar move to this measure in NC, which would jeopardize naturalized citizens' voting rights and pave the way for other forms of discrimination

Significantly increase the minimum wage AND require employers to give you an hour of paid sick leave for every 30 hours worked (!!!!)

Property-tax the rich $50 per $100,000 to provide services to people 60 and older

There are also questions about legalizing sports betting and authorizing another gambling boat (at a constitutional level) and, in my area, about one bajillion local judges are up for reelection. Vote as you please if you have strong feelings on any of these.

I usually prefer a paper ballot, but at my early voting satellite, the only option was electronic. The voting program was very easy to use, very easy to double-check and backtrack on, not janky at all, and featured multiple accessibility features.

Additionally, I confirmed that you CAN use your phone to research all those local judges that weren't on Ballotpedia any candidates or issues you need more information on!

Go forth and vote in confidence! If your worst neighbor or crustiest bigoted problem customer can shamble out to vote against you, then you can haul ass to the polls to spite them and improve society somewhat whether they like it or not.

IT'S VOTE OR DIE, DUDES. YOU VOTE, OR YOU DIE.

wait hold on i can now vote early in my state without an excuse??? HUGE if true guess who's gonna go test that right now

[inseobts]

Hiii! Can i req an ace x f!reader where he looks all over for her like he did with BB not bc she's a traitor but bc she left the crew w/o letting anyone besides WB know (WB ain't snitching lol). She has her own problems in life but the ultimate reason for leaving was bc of self loathing issues under the tough mask and thought the love was unrequited after seeing ace with cuter girls, and that she didn't need another problem. It was onesided, but ace became aware of his own feelings after she left. He finds her as a strawhat but reader and zoro are alrdy a power couple... or so he thought ;D tysm i genuinely LOVE your works btw!!! <3

Embers Left Behind

portgas d. ace x reader

a/n: aaah I always love a really good angst with fluff!! thank you aw

words count: 5.9k

tags: angst, heartbreak, slow burn, emotional tension, sfw

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

The Moby Dick rocks gently with the waves, but the stillness on board is anything but peaceful.

“Ace...”

Marco’s voice is low, but firm, almost warning in his tone.

Ace doesn’t stop pacing “Don’t start.”

“You’ve already asked him three times.”

“I’ll ask him thirty!” Ace snaps, spinning on his heel. His fists are clenched so tightly his nails dig into his palms “She wouldn’t just vanish like that. Not without saying anything.”

“She did.” Marco says, voice quiet but steady “That was her choice.”

Ace whirls, fire licking up his arms now “She told Pops and not us? Not even me?”

Marco looks away “Yeah. That’s what she actually did.”

Ace’s breath hitches. That admission stings more than he’ll let show.

He storms toward the upper deck, where Whitebeard sits in his massive chair, the sea breeze tugging at his long white hair like it respects him too much to tangle it.

“Old man.” Ace’s voice is tight. Controlled. Barely.

Whitebeard doesn’t turn “Still angry?”

“Still confused.” Ace steps closer “Why her? Why’d she tell you and not the rest of us?”

“She asked for a promise.” Whitebeard’s voice is steady as a mountain “And I gave it.”

Ace’s fire dims slightly “A promise to keep her location a secret?”

“To let her go. Without questions. Without trails.”

“Bullshit...” Ace mutters, hurt flashing in his voice “She didn’t even say goodbye.”

Whitebeard finally turns his gaze down to him “You think that didn’t hurt her too?”

Ace swallows hard. But he doesn’t respond.

Later, in the infirmary, Marco sits with a bottle between his legs, flipping the cap off with a lazy flick of his thumb.

“She left her favourite coat” he says.

Ace looks up, surprised “What?”

Marco nods toward the corner of the room where a familiar coat hangs limply on the wall, untouched “She probably forgot it in the rush of leaving.”

Ace stands slowly, walking over to it. He stares at it like it’s a corpse.

“She was hurting.” Marco doesn’t say it as a defense, just as the truth.

Ace turns toward him, brows drawn together “We’re family. She could’ve told us.”

“Maybe that’s exactly why she couldn’t.”

The crew feels the void she left, even in little things like someone instinctively calling her name during morning drills, or setting aside a plate during dinner out of habit. Thatch stops laughing as loudly. Vista sharpens his swords in silence.

And Ace? He doesn’t sleep. Not really.

He stares at the stars, thinking about every conversation you ever had, what he missed, what you were hiding, what he didn’t say.

The coat’s been hanging there for weeks. No one moves it. No one touches it. It just stays exactly where you left it, draped over the hook in the infirmary corner like it’s waiting for you to come back and grab it.

Ace stares at it again that morning.

Marco walks in, holding coffee, and stops when he sees him.

“You really gonna keep standing there, or you gonna wear it yourself?”

Ace shoots him a glare “It’s hers.”

Marco sips, watching him over the rim of his mug “Yeah. We know.”

He doesn’t make a scene about it. Just one quiet morning, a little after breakfast, he shows up on deck with a pack slung over his shoulder and your coat folded neatly in his arms.

Whitebeard watches from his throne, silent.

“Going somewhere, Ace?” Izo asks, already knowing.

Ace doesn’t look at anyone as he answers, “She forgot her coat.”

A few of the guys glance at each other. That’s the excuse? Seriously?

Haruta tilts her head “You’re gonna cross the Grand Line to return a coat?”

Ace shrugs “She loved this coat. Said she couldn’t live without it.”

It’s half a lie. Maybe less. But no one calls him out.

“You gonna tell Pops?” Vista asks.

Ace glances toward the upper deck. Whitebeard’s already looking at him. They lock eyes for a second. Whitebeard doesn’t nod. Doesn’t shake his head. Just… lets him go.

“Guess you don’t need to” Vista mutters with a smirk.

Marco sighs and tosses him an extra log pose “You’ll need this more than your pride.”

Ace catches it, barely looking “Appreciate it.”

“You gonna say what we all know?” Marco asks, voice level “That it’s not about the coat?”

Ace’s jaw tightens “No.”

Marco smirks faintly “Thought so.”

As Ace walks toward the edge of the ship, Thatch calls after him, voice light but sad around the edges “Tell her she still owes me a drink!”

“And that we miss her!” Haruta adds.

Ace doesn’t turn around, but he lifts a hand in acknowledgment.

“Tell her yourself when I find her...” he says.

And then, he’s gone.

Months passed and the sun’s dipping low when Ace finds the black sails of the Thousand Sunny sway gently at the harbor’s edge, golden light flickering across the lion-shaped prow like it’s grinning at him.

He hadn’t meant to stumble across them like this. He was chasing rumors, not names. But seeing that Straw Hat Jolly Roger gave him a reason to take a break.

“So you’re just crashing dinner?” Luffy grins, already halfway through a plate of meat.

“Not my fault I showed up right when Sanji was cooking” Ace says casually, plopping down on the deck’s edge.

The table’s full. Sanji’s setting down plates faster than they can be emptied. Nami’s sipping something citrusy, Robin’s got a book open next to her rice, and Usopp’s already knee-deep in some tall tale about a sea king. Brook plays a soft melody in the background.

“Man, I forgot how chaotic you all are” Ace laughs.

Franky flexes “SUPER chaotic!”

Chopper beams “I’m glad you stopped by!”

“Didn’t expect to find you guys here, honestly” Ace admits, glancing around “I was just passing through.”

Nami quirks an eyebrow “Passing through where, exactly?”

He shrugs “Everywhere.”

They don’t press. They know that kind of tone.

Luffy’s already asking about Whitebeard, and Ace answers between bites.

Then footsteps. Two sets. Light and even. The sound of a low laugh, a deeper voice beside it.

“—I’m just saying, if you let me sharpen your swords while drunk, it’s a disaster waiting to happen, you can't blame me after...” your voice rings out, smooth and easy.

“I didn’t really give you permission, stop lying.” Zoro answers, tone relaxed in a way that makes Ace’s stomach turn.

You step into the room first, head turned toward him, smiling “You did! You said that I—”

And then your eyes land on the table.

On him.

And everything stops.

Ace freezes with a piece of meat halfway to his mouth, hand still in the air.

You don’t breathe.

Neither does he.

Your gaze locked with his.

“Ace...” you whisper.

He stands up so suddenly his chair scrapes across the floor.

“You’re—” His voice cracks. He swallows “You’re here?”

Zoro’s already watching you. He sees the change in your expression, the sudden tightness in your grip, the way your breath hitches.

Sanji mutters, “Ohhh shit.”

You take a slow step forward, like you’re not sure if he’s real “What are you doing here?”

Ace doesn’t answer immediately. His eyes scanning you, your hair, clothes, the faint scar on your knuckle that wasn’t there before. You’re different. Still you. But heavier, somehow. Guarded.

He lifts something from the table.

Your old coat.

You hadn’t even noticed it until now.

“You forgot this” he says quietly.

And just like that, every wall you built inside your chest starts to splinter.

You stare at it “You came all this way for that?”

Ace’s smile is small. Not cocky. Not smug. Just… tired “Couldn’t sleep with it staring at me every day.”

The table is dead quiet now. Everyone’s eyes on the two of you.

You glance at Zoro. He’s watching Ace now. Calm. Unmoving.

Ace notices.

Something flickers in his eyes “Didn’t know you were a Straw Hat now.”

You steady your voice “I wasn't planning on staying with them at first, so I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

He hesitates “Yeah. Same.”

You don’t know what else to say. Neither does he. But damn it, the tension’s louder than the silence.

Dinner resumes... Kind of.

People try to keep it normal. Conversations start up again, tentative at first, then flowing a little easier. Luffy dives back into his mountain of food, thankfully oblivious. Usopp’s telling Brook about a “totally real” fight he had with a sea serpent, and Chopper’s wide-eyed and hanging on every word.

But at one end of the table, you sit next to Zoro, posture stiff.

Across from you, Ace is watching.

You can feel his gaze on your skin like sunburn. Every time you smile or laugh at something Zoro says. Every time Zoro nudges your shoulder casually. Every time you try to look like everything’s fine.

You’re not fooling anyone. Least of all Ace.

“Here,” Zoro says suddenly, shoving a cup toward you “You look like you need this.”

You blink “Sake already?”

He shrugs “It’s dinner. And you look like you’re about to jump overboard.”

You snort under your breath “Thanks.”

You drink. So does Ace.

And then again Sanji pours a fresh cup for him, glancing sideways “You alright there?”

Ace leans back with a grin that doesn’t touch his eyes “Peachy.”

He knocks back another drink.

You try not to look at him, but it’s like your eyes betray you every five seconds.

Zoro strangely keeps talking. Trying. He keeps you grounded when your thoughts threaten to drift into the fire sitting across the table.

But the alcohol is catching up to Ace.

His words get looser. His stare, more obvious.

“So,” he says after his third or fifth cup “How long’s that been a thing?”

Your head snaps up “What?”

Ace nods lazily toward you and Zoro “You and him. The whole… power couple thing.”

Zoro’s hand pauses around his cup “Didn’t know that was a thing.”

Ace shrugs, leaning an elbow on the table “Oh, it’s not. But I saw how you looked at her. Pretty sure I’ve seen animals less possessive.”

You set your cup down, jaw tight “Ace.”

“What?” he asks, eyes wide in mock innocence “We’re just catching up, right? Friends talk about relationships. Or is that off-limits too?”

Sanji clears his throat “Maybe you should pace yourself, Fire Fist.”

“Oh, I’m pacing,” Ace says, slouching back “Just catching up on a year of silence and disappearing acts.”

Your stomach drops.

Zoro glances at you but says nothing.

You speak slowly “This isn’t the place.”

Ace huffs a laugh “Yeah, no kidding. Because the place for it was back then, right? When you could’ve said something. Anything.”

Robin gently closes her book.

Nami’s eyes flicker between the two of you.

“I didn’t think I owed you an explanation” you snap, sharper than intended.

Ace leans forward, finally letting that bitter smile crack through “No, you didn’t. But damn, it would’ve been nice to get something other than your coat and full silence.”

Zoro moves slightly, like he’s ready to shut it down, but your face makes him understand he has to stop.

Everyone’s watching now, and you feel like you’re under a spotlight.

Ace shakes his head, laughing dryly “Hell, maybe I was the only idiot who thought it meant something.”

Your breath catches.

The words are out.

And for a moment, no one knows what to say. Not even him.

The dinner table clears awkwardly.

No one says anything outright, but it’s obvious they’re trying to give you space.

Luffy yawns exaggeratedly and says, “Wow, I’m full. So full. Gonna go sleep. Right now. So full.”

“Goodnight!” Chopper squeaks, tugging Usopp by the sleeve.

Even Sanji backs off, flicking his lighter once before disappearing into the galley.

That leaves just you, Ace and Zoro, standing up slowly, watching Ace with unreadable eyes.

“You gonna be alright?” Zoro asks, voice low.

You nod “Yeah.”

Zoro looks at you for a bit longer, then gives a short nod and walks away, leaving you with Ace’s stare burning holes in your side.

The silence stretches.

You finally break it “That was unnecessary.”

Ace doesn’t flinch “Which part? The part where you never said goodbye, or the part where you show up on a new ship with a boyfriend like none of us meant anything to you? Couldn't you just tell us you were leaving for love?”

Your jaw tightens “Zoro is my friend.”

He snorts “Could’ve fooled me.”

You look him dead in the eye “It’s not like that. It never was.”

The silence that follows is heavier than anything he said during dinner.

“…Oh.”

His voice is smaller now. Less fire, more ash.

You exhale “You seriously thought I left because of him?”

Ace’s fingers run through his hair “No. I don’t know. I thought—maybe—I don’t know, okay? You just vanished. You left without a damn word. I woke up, and you were gone. And now I found you here...”

Your breath hitches, but you stay rooted.

“I told Whitebeard to not worry you all too much” you say quietly.

“Only him...” Ace snaps, stepping closer now “Why? What was so bad you couldn’t even say goodbye to me?”

You blink fast, but your voice stays even “Because if I saw your face, I wouldn’t have been able to do it! It's not that hard to understand, Ace.”

Ace’s whole body stills.

You go on, voice low and raw “I didn’t leave because I hated the crew. Or you. I left because I hated me. I was tired of pretending I wasn’t falling apart inside. Tired of pretending I didn’t feel anything, especially around you.”

Ace doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe.

You shake your head “You didn’t need someone like me stuck in your shadow.”

“That’s not—” he starts, but you hold up a hand.

“I didn’t want to be another problem you had to solve.”

Silence again.

Then, slowly he says “You were never a problem.”

You glance up.

His eyes are different now. Not angry. Not jealous. Just… aching.

“You were a storm I wanted to chase,” he murmurs “but then you were just gone.”

Your chest tightens.

“You never said anything either” you whisper.

He laughs bitterly “Guess we both suck at this.”

Your heart pounding “So what now?”

Ace shrugs, but there’s no fire in it this time. Just quiet, open hurt “You tell me.”

Ace’s words hang in the air like smoke from a dying fire. You stare at him, heart tight and hammering. Part of you wants to move, say something, anything, but your feet won’t cooperate.

“You think I had some kind of perfect answer?” he says, voice cracking just slightly “You weren’t the only one pretending nothing hurt.”

Your brows knit “Then why didn’t you say anything?”

He steps closer.

“Because I didn’t know I could!” he bursts out “Because you always looked so strong. Always sharp. Looked like you never needed anyone, least of all me.”

You flinch. He sees it. Regrets it instantly.

“I didn’t mean—”

“No,” you cut him off, voice thick “You’re right. I made it look easy. I wore the mask. I made you all believe I was fine when I wasn’t. I guess it's normal you thought so if that was my plan to start with.”

Your eyes burn, but you keep going.

“You know what I remember, Ace? Nights on the Moby Dick where I stared at the ceiling wondering why I felt like I didn’t deserve to be there. Why I wasn’t enough. Why I could throw myself into battle for my crew and still feel like a fraud every time someone looked at me with respect.”

Ace’s breath catches “You were never a fraud.”

You laugh bitterly “I know that's a family, I love them all... but sometimes I felt like a fraud.”

The pain in your chest rises, sharp and breathless.

“But you...” your voice breaks, “you were the biggest thing I couldn’t handle. Not when I saw how easy it was for you to smile at someone else. Someone better.”

Ace’s eyes widen “Better?! What the hell are you talking about?”

You take a shaky breath “All these girls. The flirting. The way you lit up when you were with them. I saw it all. And I told myself... of course he doesn’t want you. Why would he?”

There’s silence. Only the sea, and your heart breaking against the rail of the Sunny.

Ace looks like someone just punched the air out of his lungs.

“That’s what you thought?” he whispers.

You nod, lips trembling “I left because it hurt to love you.”

The words hang there. Raw. Bleeding.

“You left,” he says slowly, “and took everything with you without even trying.”

Your throat closes.

Ace’s jaw clenches.

“I would’ve chosen you,” he says quietly “Every single time, if you gave me the chance.”

"But you can't blame me for being oblivious... You were always with some new girl, how could I even think I had a chance"

"I know. But you also knew I would have chosen you over some strangers, I wouldn't want to hurt you at all. If you gave me a change I would have put the whole world aside for you, Y/N."

You don’t know whether to cry or scream. So you laugh... a single, broken sound “And now it’s too late, right?”

“I don’t know” he says honestly “You tell me.”

His eyes are locked on yours, and he steps closer.

You don’t move away.

His hand hovers, hesitates, like he wants to touch your face, your shoulder, your hand, something, anything, but doesn’t know if he has the right anymore.

Your breath catches in your throat.

“Ace…”

And then—BANG. The galley door slams open.

“Yo, have either of you seen—oh.”

Luffy. Of course it’s Luffy.

He stops in the doorway, blinking wide, oblivious to the emotional minefield he’s just barged into “Uh. Am I interrupting?”

You jerk back instinctively. Ace steps away too, fast.

“No!” you say too quickly “No, you’re good.”

Ace turns away, face unreadable now. Mask back on, smooth and practiced.

Luffy glances between you two “You guys look weird.”

Neither of you responds.

He scratches the back of his head “Anyway, Robin and Nami are looking for you,” he tells you. “Something about maps and weird island currents.”

You nod, voice tight “Got it. I’ll be right there.”

Luffy eyes Ace for another second, then shrugs and leaves just as fast as he came, door clicking shut behind him.

Silence falls again but it’s different now. The moment is shattered, scattered like glass.

Ace doesn’t look at you.

You speak first, voice barely above a whisper “Ace…”

He cuts you off gently “You should go.”

You flinch “We weren’t done.”

“I think we were.”

You step toward him, but he doesn’t move.

He doesn’t let himself.

“I meant what I said” you tell him “About everything.”

His voice is quiet “Yeah. That’s the problem.”

And then he walks away. Leaving you standing in the dark, alone with the weight of all the things that almost happened.

You make it to the girls’ quarters, swallow hard and enter the room.

You close the door and put your body agaist it as if you're trying to let all the problems stay out.

Nami stands there, brows lifting when she sees your face “Hey, we were just—”

But then she looks closer and her casual smile drops right off her face.

“…You okay?”

Your throat locks up.

Behind her, Robin looks up from the maps she’s laying out, calm as ever but watching you with those eyes that always seem to see what you don’t want them to.

You try to say something. Anything.

You don’t.

You sit down instead. Hard. Right on the edge of Nami’s bed like your legs stopped working.

Nami follows instantly, crouching in front of you “What happened?”

You shake your head, blinking fast, jaw clenched.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you whisper, voice barely there “I don’t know how to fix this.”

And then it breaks as you cover your face with your hands.

The tears hit before you can stop them. Hot, shaking, ugly sobs that you’ve held down for too long. Too many months of silence, too much guilt, too much everything.

You’re not even crying quietly. You break.

“I left because I thought it was the right thing!” you gasp “I thought he didn’t feel anything and I couldn’t take it anymore. And now he’s here and he does and it’s just—it’s too late and I ruined it.”

Nami wraps her arms around you instantly, holding tight.

Robin doesn’t say anything at first. She just sits beside you, brushing your hair back from your wet face with a gentle hand.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Nami whispers “You were hurting. That’s not the same as ruining.”

You shake your head against her shoulder “He hates me.”

“He doesn’t...” Robin says simply.

You choke on a bitter laugh “He walked away.”

“Because he’s hurt too,” Robin adds “But that doesn’t mean it’s over.”

You wipe your face with your sleeve, trembling “I feel like I’ve been bleeding since the day I left.”

Robin’s voice is soft, but steady “Then maybe it’s time to stop bleeding. Start talking.”

Nami looks down at you, eyes gentle “Do you want to fix it?”

You nod. Miserably. Broken.

“Then we’ll help you,” she says “You don’t have to do it alone.”

And for the first time in a long time, you believe it.

The next morning, no one says anything out loud but it’s clear something has shifted.

You don’t talk about the breakdown you had the night before. You don’t talk about the ache in your throat or the way sleep never really came. You just sit at breakfast and try to act normal.

Except Robin keeps watching you. Nami keeps nudging your elbow like it’s nothing, but her smile is just a little too knowing.

Zoro doesn’t say a word but when Ace walks in and his eyes meet yours across the room and then quickly slide away Zoro exhales through his nose and mutters, “This is stupid.”

Nami catches that.

Her eyes flick to Robin, who arches a brow.

Time to get to work.

“Ace,” Nami says casually, catching him after breakfast, “Luffy’s going to be real mad if you leave before sparring with him again.”

Ace pauses “We already did yesterday. I'm here just to take some food.”

“Yeah, but now he wants a rematch. Says you cheated.”

“I didn’t cheat.”

“He’s Luffy,” Nami shrugs “He doesn’t care.”

Ace gives her a side glance “Why are you so invested?”

She smiles, all teeth “Me? Not at all.”

Later, Robin finds you on the deck alone, staring at the waves. You haven’t seen Ace since breakfast.

“He hasn’t left yet” she says gently.

You don’t look at her “I know.”

Robin glances out at the horizon “You’re not the only one afraid, you know.”

You grip the railing tighter “Then why does it feel like I am?”

Robin’s voice is soft “Because you’re not used to being vulnerable. But strength isn’t always about standing tall.”

You finally glance at her “You’re not really here to talk about fear.”

She smiles “No. I’m here to remind you that there’s still time.”

Meanwhile, Zoro corners Ace on the training deck. No swords, just crossed arms and that usual scowl.

“You leaving?” he asks.

Ace shrugs “Probably.”

Zoro raises a brow “You couldn't care less about that coat, did you?”

Ace laughs once “No.”

Zoro nods “Figured.”

“She cried last night.”

Ace’s shoulders freeze.

Zoro keeps his voice even “Not for attention. Not for drama. She broke. I heard her from the girls’ room”

Ace turns his head, jaw tense “…She okay?”

“No,” Zoro says honestly “And neither are you.”

He starts to walk away, but pauses.

“You don’t get many second chances,” he says over his shoulder “Don’t be a dumbass.”

Later that day, Luffy walks up to Ace and beams.

“Hey! Are you and Y/N in love?”

Ace nearly chokes on air “What?!”

Luffy tilts his head “You’re mad. She’s sad. You love each other, right? Just fix it already.”

Ace blinks at him, stunned.

“…You know, for a rubber guy, you’re terrifyingly blunt.”

Luffy grins “Thanks!”

By sunset, you’re back at the rail again. Same spot. Same ache.

Footsteps approach and you already know it’s him.

Ace stops a few feet away.

“You’re avoiding me” he says quietly.

“I’m trying to give you space.”

He exhales “I think we’ve had enough space to destroy a fleet.”

You swallow, heart pounding.

He steps closer.

“Can we talk?” he asks.

Your eyes meet his and nod.

The sky bleeds orange and gold as the sun dips low behind the sea.

Ace steps up beside you, quiet and calm. No tension in his shoulders.

“I’m leaving tomorrow.”

You turn slowly to look at him.

“I figured” you whisper.

Ace nods “I came for a coat. Didn’t expect to get set on fire instead.”

You almost smile. Almost.

He looks out over the ocean “Whitebeard misses you. So does Marco. Thatch tried to make your favorite meal last week but burned it like an idiot.”

You swallow hard.

“They never said it but I know they all knew why you left” he says “I was the only one not understanding…”

He doesn’t look at you yet.

He goes on “I’ll say you found your place. That you’re with Luffy’s crew now. That you’re surrounded by people who care about you. That you’re safe. I know my little brother will take good care of you. Even that green moody head seems to care about you.”

His voice softens “And I’ll tell them you’re happy.”

You feel something twist in your chest.

“And what about you?” you ask.

Ace is quiet.

“For a long time,” he says, “I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. Flirting, smiling, messing around… it was easy. It was nothing. Because the real thing scared me.”

You finally look at him.

He’s already watching you.

“I told myself I didn’t care,” he says “That the way I looked at you didn’t mean anything. That it was fine if you didn’t look back.”

He laughs bitterly “But I did care. I cared so damn much it felt like it was choking me.”

Your breath catches.

“Feeling things terrified me”

Silence.

Then he finally says it, soft and aching “I was in love with you. Still am.”

The air rushes out of your lungs.

Ace looks away.

“But I’m not asking you for anything. Not now. Not after all this. I just… I couldn’t leave without saying it. I couldn’t let you think it didn’t matter. That you didn’t matter. It will hurt to go back without you but I meant it before, I'll be happy to know you found another family here, with Luffy out of all people.”

You stare at him, heart pounding.

“You still love me?” you whisper “I thought it was too late...”

“It probably is,” he says with a small smile “But at least you’ll know.”

He turns to leave but your hand shoots out and you grab his sleeve.

“…Stay one more day,” you say, voice shaking “Please.”

Ace freezes.

Slowly, he turns back to you and for the first time in forever there’s hope in his eyes.

Neither of you say much since you asked him to stay.

But the silence is comfortable now. Familiar. Safe.

Ace glances sideways, his voice low “You sure about this?”

You nod, just once.

“Yeah.”

His fingers twitch beside yours, like he wants to reach for you again but he waits.

“I don’t mean just staying,” he murmurs “I mean… this. Us. Me.”

You take a breath, and your hand moves to cover his.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t sure.”

He lets out a breath, almost like relief.

You both look out at the sea a while longer before you speak again.

“I missed you every day.”

Ace turns to you.

Your voice trembles, but you don’t look away.

“I thought about you every time I smiled. Every time something good happened. You were just… there in my mind, like you never left.”

His hand turns under yours, fingers lacing gently through yours.

“I hated you for leaving” he whispers.

You blink but he’s not angry. His voice is soft. Wounded.

“I hated you,” he says, “because you didn’t give me the chance to try stop you. But also because I was scared and stupid and thought I had time to figure it out.”

You’re quiet for a long moment.

Then you shift closer, just slightly, knees brushing. His hand stays in yours.

“You still have time.”

He looks at you then. Like you’re the first sunrise after a shipwreck.

“Can I kiss you?”

Your heart stutters.

You nod “Yes.”

And he does. It’s not desperate. Not rushed. Just real.

His lips are warm and trembling against yours. One hand moves to cradle your cheek, thumb brushing soft. You kiss him back, slow and full of everything you never got to say.

When he pulls away, his forehead rests gently against yours.

You rise slowly, fingers never leaving his, and lead him back into your room, silent, sure.

The night is tender. You lie beside each other in the dark, hearts bare and hands exploring familiar skin like it’s new.

When he presses kisses to your shoulder, your neck, your temple, you know it’s not just affection. It’s an apology. A thank you. A promise.

When he asks softly, “Is this okay?” you say “Yes” like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

And when you make love, it’s not about what you lost. It’s about what you finally found again.

No masks. No fear.

Just warmth.

Just you and him.

Just home.

You wake up warm.

Ace’s arm is draped across your waist, his breath steady at your back. His fingers twitch every so often, like he’s dreaming something wild. Or maybe something peaceful, for once.

You don’t want to move but you do, because you have to, because you both knew last night didn’t mean nothing’s changed, it meant everything has.

The galley is loud by the time you walk in.

The crew’s halfway through breakfast, everyone arguing over eggs and toast like nothing happened, like your world didn’t shift overnight.

Ace walks in behind you a second later, and the room stills for a heartbeat.

Then “YOU’RE FIRED!”

Luffy slams his hands on the table and points directly at you, grinning wide.

You blink “What?”

“You heard me!” he says “You slept with my brother! And on my ship! That’s illegal!”

You blush embarassed that even your oblivious Captain knew what happened.

Robin lifts her teacup “There’s no such law.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Luffy declares “I’m the captain. I make the rules here. Y/N, you’re fired.”

You open your mouth, then stop.

Because behind the ridiculous accusation, behind the over-the-top delivery you see the way his voice softens just slightly, the way his eyes look proud, not mad.

The way Nami nudges you, it’s okay.

This is Luffy's way of letting you go. He doesn’t want you to feel like you’re abandoning them.

So he turns it into a joke. A ridiculous, loud, Luffy's joke.

You laugh. You can’t help it.

Tears prick your eyes anyway.

Even Sanji tries his best to play it cool, almost looking proud, of you? Or of his Captain for understanding.

Usopp tries to cover Chopper's ears so that he doesn't hear about these adults' things.

Zoro doesn’t say much. Just leans back, arms folded, watching you with that unreadable gaze of his. But when you meet his eyes he nods. Just once.

He gets it. Even if it hurts a little more than he shows.

After breakfast, you start to pack. You barely get two things in your bag before someone knocks on your door.

Zoro.

He leans in the doorway, arms crossed, swords resting against his hip.

“Guess it’s real, huh?” he says quietly.

You nod.

“…Yeah.”

He doesn’t move for a second. Then he steps forward and gives something to you.

It’s your old Whitebeard crew headband you used to have on your arm, it's tattered and sun-bleached, but whole.

“Found it in the storage room last week,” he says “Thought you might want it back now.”

Your throat tightens “Thank you.”

Zoro shrugs “You were always part of another crew before this one. Doesn’t mean we didn’t like having you.”

“I’ll miss you” you whisper.

He smiles soft, sad “Don’t get all sentimental now. I won’t cry.”

You laugh through your tears and hugs him without giving him time to protest.

Zoro stays still for a while, his arm instinctively around your shoulders but he steps back before he could let him touch you.

“Go on, then,” he says “He’s waiting.”

You find Ace on the deck, bag slung over his shoulder, waiting at the edge of the ship like he’s afraid you’ll change your mind.

You take his hand and when you look back, the whole crew is there. Waving. Smiling. Luffy cheering like an idiot.

Little you know as soon as you’re out of sight Luffy, Nami, Chopper, Usopp amd Sanji all start to cry and act whining about how much they already miss you.

Your heart aches but it also feels full. Because you’re not losing a family. You’re just returning to another one, with love in your wake.

The Moby Dick is quiet when the small boat approaches. Too quiet.

Ace shifts nervously beside you, one hand still loosely holding yours, he hasn’t let go once since you left the Strawhats. You’re both sun-warmed, tired, hearts still tender. But you feel lighter now. Whole.

The closer you get, the more you can make out familiar silhouettes on deck. Marco, Thatch, Izo, even Whitebeard himself arms crossed, massive grin already tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Ace glances at you “Ready?”

You squeeze his hand “You better not let go the second we dock.”

He grins, all teeth and dimples “Not a chance.”

⸻

The second your boots hit the deck, it’s chaos.

“YOU BROUGHT HER BACK?!” Thatch yells, practically jumping over the railing to tackle you in a hug.

Marco stares at you, blinking slowly “I thought you were mad at all of us.”

You raise a brow “I wasn’t mad.”

Then his eyes flick to your joined hands.

Then back to your faces.

“…Wait.”

Izo’s eyes narrow “Wait.”

There’s a pause.

And then everyone starts yelling at once.

“What the hell—since when?!”

“Hold on, you two are—are—what is this?”

“Are you in love now?!”

“Thatch owes me 500 berries!!”

You laugh joyfully, and Ace wraps his arm around your waist like he’s proud to show you off. Because he is.

Whitebeard’s booming laughter cuts through it all “So the brat really did bring you back. And you didn’t punch him?”

“Not yet,” you tease “But the day’s still young.”

Ace leans into you, soft and smug “I’m pretty sure she loves me too much to punch me.”

You elbow him.

“I repeat” you deadpan “The day is still young.”

Everyone groans.

Marco squints suspiciously “No, seriously. You? Soft? Since when?”

Ace, without a hint of shame “Since forever. I was just emotionally constipated.”

“Understatement of the century” mutters Izo.

Thatch’s voice cuts in, cackling “Do I get to be best man at the wedding or what?!”

You choke. Ace doesn’t even deny it, just raises his brows like, maybe.

You cover your face “I hate it here.”

Ace pulls your hand away gently and kisses your cheek in front of everyone.

“Liar” he murmurs, voice low and warm.

You glance up at him and yeah.

Okay.

You really, really don’t.

[softspiderling]

est-ce que tu m’aimes? | j.v

summary:

“I am sorry, I-“ you pulled the door open, but to your surprise, you came face to face with the source of your sorrows.

“Jace,” you spoke, voice even, crossing your arms over your chest. “Have you come to throw some more insults? Maybe some at me this time?”

Jace clenched his jaw, his hand on the goddamned sword again. Was he itching to take your head off so badly?

OR; Jace’s reaction truly confuses you, you settle in at Dragonstone and a surprising addition to the team makes themselves known.

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x reader, platonic!daeron targaryen x reader

warnings: Jace being a little mean (we all know he’s capable of it)

word count: 5,6k

author’s note: yoooo pt. 2 is finally here!! i hope you love it sm!!! pls don’t forget to reblog/leave comments etc if you liked it!!!

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“I cannot believe you would let her waltz into our home like that! She’s putting all of us in danger!”

In less than two days, you were sat outside a study as a heated argument about you took place behind closed doors. It was merely a coincidence that it was within the same family.

After Jace had stormed into the council room, meeting you with open hostility, Rhaenerya had asked you to give them some privacy. You had barely left the room before Jace had started spitting ill words about you.

“She saved me, Jace!”

“What if this is some plot for her to put herself in our midst and feed information back to King’s Landing?”

“Was she not residing in Oldtown with Daeron ever since we left for Dragonstone? It is doubtful she has been let in on the plans to usurp the throne.”

Jace let out a frustrated groan and it was silent for a few moments before Rhaenyra spoke again.

“It seems to me you have a different issue with her… Is it because you have feelings for her?”

Your breath stocked in your throat, your hand stilling against the door. Jace’s behavior towards you confused you deeply. It seemed like he harbored resentment, but you weren’t sure when it had started, when you had suddenly become a traitor in his eyes, instead of a friend.

“Don’t be ridiculous, mother.”

The way Jace scoffed hurt you more than ten daggers in your back, and you pressed your lips together, refusing to let the words of a man affect you.

“I only wish to protect you.”

Swallowing thickly, your hands balled into fists and you jumped back when the door suddenly opened, a knight gesturing for you to step in.

Hesitantly, you entered the room, the tensions still high and you looked at Jace, but he refused to meet your eyes, turning his head away.

Rhaenyra on the other hand stepped up you, taking your hand in hers, cradling it gently.

“I will never be able to repay the debt,” she said in a soft voice, her eyes warm. “You saved my son, even though you weren’t obligated to do it. For that, I will offer you a place here, at Dragonstone, and a place in my council, if you wish to take it.”

“Mother!-“

Rhaenyra ignored Jace’s protest, her voice unwavering. “I believe your insight into our enemies will give us an advantage to win this war.”

“I do not wish to cause a drift between you,” you said honestly. “If Jace does not wish for me to stay-“

“It is not his place,” Rhaenyra said and Jace only scoffed. You fought the urge to glare at him, you didn’t want to antagonize him even further.

“Thank you, your Grace,” you said, lowering your head. “I would very much like to stay.”

Frankly, you wouldn’t know where to go, had Rhaenyra not offered for you to stay, you weren’t sure what expected you, would you return to King’s Landing; it surely wouldn’t go over well.

“And the seat on the council?”

You pressed your lips together. It was an honor, an offer like that, but you could tell Jace wanted you to say no with the way he was looking at you when he thought you wouldn’t notice.

“May I think about it?”

“Of course,” Rhaenyra said, squeezing your hand. “Ser Lorent, escort the Lady to her chambers. I think the ones in the West Wing will be fitting.”

Ser Lorent bowed, before gesturing his arm out to you. “My Lady, if you please follow me.”

You bowed your head to Rhaenyra, turning to leave, but just before you stepped over the threshold of the room, you glanced back. Luke gave you a small smile, but Jace had turned his back to you again. You tried not to let it go to your head, but your mind was racing with questions after Ser Lorent had dropped you off in your chambers.

The sun was shining through the windows when you awoke the next day. You had chosen to take supper in your chambers the night before, trying to give Jace some space. There had been no maid to wake you, so it must still be early. A loud clang of swords floated up from outside and you wrapped a robe around your shoulders as you got out of the bed, glancing out the window.

It turned out that your chambers laid directly above the training grounds, where Jace and Luke were currently in the middle of training. It was nice to see Jace without a scowl on his face for a change, and you took the opportunity to look at him.

He had grown into a very fine Prince, his hair long, curling around his face, his cheekbones high. You had always known he’d grow up to be very handsome. It was hard to imagine he’s the same boy who had told you to write to him every day.

Now, he hadn’t spoken to you a single word after his agitated discussion with his mother.

“Lift your sword up higher when you are in offense, but when someone is advancing on you, make sure to defend the lower part of yourself as well.”

Luke sighed, dropping the point of his sword on the ground, wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his tunic. “We have been training since the sun has risen, can we go break fast now?”

“No, you need this.”

“What am I to do with a sword when Aemond descends upon me with Vhagar? Slash at her wings?” Luke scoffed. “I’m not lacking in swordsmanship.”

You pressed yourself against the window as Jace laid a hand on his younger brother’s shoulder, lending him comfort similar in a way you have done with Daeron.

“It will not happen again, Luke. I will make sure Aemond will not get the chance to get near you again.”

Jace let out a breath, his face pained, you could even see it from a distance.

“It was foolish of me to suggest we go deliver the messages,” Jace sighed. “I should’ve gone with you, you had no protection. I never would have forgiven myself if something had happened to you.”

“Jace…” Luke looked at his brother, his forehead creased. “It wasn’t your fault. Our uncle behaved himself with no honor.”

“I should have expected that.” Jace smiled at him wryly. “You were lucky to escape Vhagar when you did.”

“I wasn’t lucky, I had help.”

Jace let out a loud sigh, giving Luke a squeeze on the shoulder.

“Let us go break fast, then.”

“Oh so now you want to end training,” Luke nagged, resheating his sword. “Because I mentioned Lady-“

“Do not speak her name to me,” Jace snapped, stopping Luke in the middle of his sentence.

Luke only sighed at his older brother.

“Jace… None of this is her doing. You cannot-“

A knock on your door quickly made you push away from the window, your cheeks red, almost having been caught eavesdropping.

The two young women standing in front of your chambers gave you a friendly smile, their hair - already twisted in intricate fashion despite the early hour - immediately told you of their parentage.

“You must be Baela and Rhaena.”

One of them, you assumed Baela, as she was wearing riding gear and last you had heard, Rhaena had yet to claim a dragon, inclined her head in yes. You gave them a smile.

“It is a pleasure to meet you. I’m-“

“Oh we have heard all about you.”

Rhaena gave Baela a jab in the side, glaring at her sister and even though Baela had fallen into your word, it did not seem like she had done it in chargrin, as she had a friendly look on her face.

“We were about to break fast. Her Grace asked us to extend the invitation to you,” Rhaena said and you nodded.

“Thank you. Let me get dressed and I will meet you in the dining hall.”

After getting dressed and making yourself presentable, you made your way to the dining hall. Well, you tried, at least. The keep was much bigger than you had anticipated. Finally you rounded the corner, thinking you had reached the dining hall, but instead you were standing in a hallway that split into three more hallways.

“I could have sworn this was the way to the dining hall,” you muttered to yourself, looking around in confusion, when someone called your name.

“… Are you lost?”

Luke stepped out of his chambers, lingering in the doorway. He must have gotten changed after training in the pit, his doublet a little askew as he walked towards you.

“I was exploring the keep.”

Luke gave you a suspicious look, a grin growing on his face.

“How long have you been wandering around?”

“Why do you assume I wasn’t waiting for you to walk me to the dining hall?”

Luke laughed, offering you his arm, which you accepted gratefully as the two of you walked together. You found it was easy to converse with Luke, he was telling you about Arrax and how he has been faring ever since you got back, and that he wished for some more meat instead of fish. His cheeky grin reminded you a lot of Daeron when he was pulling one of his jests on his uncle. It was nice, to have something to remind you of home in a place that felt so unfamiliar.

“And here we are, at the dining hall,” Luke announced as you stepped into a completely different hallway, the large doors to the dining hall open.

“I never would have found my own way here,” you admitted and Luke laughed.

“I know.”

Judging by the sound of easy conversation coming out of the hall, you were the last to arrive. You were hesitant, unwilling to cause any tension but Luke tugged on your arm, sensing your discomfort.

“Come. You shall sit with me.”

You relented, following the young boy inside. The conversation at the table ceased as you entered, everyone bidding you a good morrow. Well, almost everyone.

“Have you slept well?” Rhaenyra asked as you sat down next to Luke. You nodded, giving her a smile.

“Yes, thank you. I am very grateful that you have offered for me to stay. And for the clothes, of course.“

Next to Rhaenyra, her lord husband Daemon only gave you a subdued smirk.

“It appears we are the ones who have to offer our thanks,” he said, his fingers circling the brim of his cup. “You acted when it was easier to do nothing. You showed true courage.”

“Please,” you said, nearly melting into your seat out of embarrassment. “I did what was right.”

You ignored how Jace visibly rolled his eyes, turning his head as he took a sip from his cup. He seemed incredibly displeased by this all.

“You should have seen her,” Luke said, nodding fervently. “She leapt from Vhagar to Arrax just above the clouds like it was a small jump over a beck.”

“That sounds terrifying,” Rhaena said and you nodded.

“It was. I truly do not know what came over me in that instant.”

“Sometimes we don’t know how brave we are until the moment asks for it,” Rhaenyra said with an encouraging smile and you nodded, your cheeks red. Thankfully this scene of praising you was interrupted by the servants starting to serve food.

“You have been living most of your recent name days in Oldtown, is that right?” Baela asked curiously, leaning towards you.

“Yes, Alicent sent Daeron to Oldtown and asked me to accompany him to make the distance from home easier.”

You have always thought it cruel of Alicent to send Daeron away from his family, his siblings. But now you wondered if Daeron was better off for it.

“It was really different from King’s Landing. The grandmaesters were incredibly wise and I have learned a lot from the them,” you told her, a smile on your face. “Daeron of course always dragged his feet, but I knew he enjoyed it as well.”

“How old is Daeron now?” Luke asked, swallowing his food.

“Eight and ten,” you answered. “Not quite a man just yet, even if he believes otherwise.”

The family laughed, and even Jacaerys cracked a smile, though it seemed more unkind than the rest.

“That seems to be running on his side of the family, no?” he asked, taking a sip from his cup. His voice was so cutting, and the light mood seemed to dissipate at once. “Aegon, Aemond, none of them display characteristics of a what a real man is… I wonder if Daeron turned out any better than his usurping and kinslaying brothers, though I-“

Before Jace could continue, you slammed both of your hands on the table as you stood, the tableware clattering. The table grew quiet, the tension thick as everyone laid their eyes on you, but you paid them no mind, your focus on Jace as you glared at him, and he seemed surprised at your outburst.

“Please excuse me,” you pressed out, eyes gleaming with anger. You barely waited for Rhaenyra to excuse you as you left the table, your food still untouched on your place.

As you hasten out of the dining room, you could hear Rhaenyra raising her voice.

“-unacceptable behavior!”

“Why are you all rushing to her defense? Or Daeron’s? She’s just being sensitive!”

“I have lived with you about as long as she has with Daeron,” Rhaena argued. “Would you not come to my defense if someone spoke ill about me?”

You didn’t wait to hear Jace’s answer rushing past the Queensguard that was standing by the door. By some miracle, you easily found your way back to your chambers, the heavy door falling shut as you threw yourself on the bed, letting out a scream of frustration.

You were at a loss.

Jace seemed to use every opportunity to antagonize you, treating you like an enemy instead of a friend he had grown up with. You were no damsel in distress who couldn’t handle tough words, but it was to hard to hear them from someone you harbored feelings for.

You wished you could talk to someone about this. You wished you could talk to Daeron about this. A part of you longed for the days when you were in Oldtown, before any of this occurred.

A knock brought you out of your thoughts and you lifted your head from the cushions, frowning.

“I wish to be alone for a little longer,” you called out. It was probably a handmaiden Rhaenyra had sent to check up on you. You hoped she would respect your wishes, but the knocking didn’t cease and with a small sigh, you pulled yourself up, heading to the door.

“I am sorry, I-“ you pulled the door open, but to your surprise, you came face to face with the source of your sorrows.

“Jace,” you spoke, voice even, crossing your arms over your chest. “Have you come to throw some more insults? Maybe some at me this time?”

Jace clenched his jaw, his hand on the goddamned sword again. Was he itching to take your head off so badly?

“I have been told that my behavior this morning was unbefitting for a Prince,” he ground out, the words like gravel in his mouth. “I’m here to extend an apology.”

You bit back a scoff, rolling your eyes. “Fine. Go ahead, then.”

He guffawed at your words.

“If you are going to be like this, I am not sure it makes much sense for me to apologize,” Jace said haughtily and you snorted.

“If I were to believe that a single word of your apology were genuine, I would readily accept it.”

Jace only scoffed, shaking his head but not denying your accusation. His nostrils were flared and you searched for his eyes, but he refused to meet your gaze. Exhaling softly, trying to let go of your anger, you uncrossed your arms, letting them fall to your sides.

“Why are you so angry?”

Suddenly, Jace’s eyes snapped up to yours, his lips parted in disbelief.

“My mother’s claim to the throne has been stolen by her usurper brother, my uncle! Whereas my other uncle tried to murder Luke, and you ask why I’m angry?”

You let out a small sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Forgive me, I should have been more clear. Let me rephrase,” you said. “Why are you angry with me?”

Jace took a step back, surprised by your question.

“You treat me like I myself have usurped the throne, Jace.”

You looked at Jace expectantly; his mouth opening, like he wanted to say something, before he closed it again, his words unspoken. Before you could demand an answer, hurried steps came down the hallway, Ser Lorent appearing, stopping next to your chambers. Jace seemed relieved at the distraction as the knight inclined his head at him.

“My Prince, the Queen has requested your presence for the council meeting.”

Jace nodded, giving you one last glance before stepping towards Ser Lorent, expecting him to leave right away, but Ser Lorent turned his eyes on you.

“You as well, my Lady.”

Jace let out a scoff and turned on his heel without waiting.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath as he stalked away. You sighed, glancing at Ser Lorent but he only extended his hand in silent invitation, leaving you no choice but to go with him.

The painted table in the council room was already fully seated, save for one empty space, two seats down from Jace. Most of the council consisted of lords of various houses, who eyed you sceptically as you took your seat next to Baela.

“What is a girl like her doing at a council meeting?” The Lord sat across from you asked, clear disdain on his face. You only stared back at him, not knowing how to answer yourself, but disliking his tone towards you only for the fact that you were not a man.

“This girl,” Jace replied, and you already resigned to another slight at you, “Has saved my brother up thousand feet on the air with no training. What have you achieved for my mother, Lord Bartimos?”

Lord Bartimos only let out an aggrieved sigh as he leaned back in his seat, while you turned to Jace with a surprised look on your face. He didn’t meet your eyes. Luke on the other hand, was ducking his head to hide a grin, failing miserably.

“She can offer us insights into the plan of the usurpers,” Rhaenyra said, effectively stopping any more arguments. “I hope we can avoid any bloodshed.”

“Avoid?” Daemon asked, leaning forward with a crease in his forehead. “They blatantly attacked a messenger after you wished for some time to think about their offer.”

“Daemon is right.”

Jace’s voice was strong as he agreed with Daemon, his shoulders tight.

“This is not the time to sit back and watch their plans unfold. We have come too close to unimaginable tragedy.”

Jace’s eyes flickered to his younger brother, before he turned to look to his mother. “We need to fight back.”

Rhaenyra opened her mouth, seemingly to disagree with her eldest son, but a commotion outside caught everyone’s attention.

“Dragon!”

“It’s a dragon with a rider!”

Everyone at the table looked at each other, unsure of what was happening when a knight from the watch outside came storming into the room.

“Your Grace!” he called, bowing quickly. “There has been a dragon sighted with a rider, he’s headed straight for Dragonstone.”

Rhaenyra’s forehead creased in concern.

“Do we know who it is?”

“No, your Grace.”

Rhaenyra stood, her strides quick as she walked outside, the rest of you were not too far behind her. Outside, the folks were rushing in, trying to get to safety from an imminent attack from the dragon.

“I will mount Moondancer,” Baela said, already turning on her heel but Rhaenyra stopped her, shaking her head.

“No. We do not know his intention yet, another dragon might provoke him into attacking.”

You lifted your eyes to the sky, sight blinded by the sun for the first few moments. The dragon’s movements seemed familiar to you, and as your vision adjusted, you let out a laughter, relief coursing through you.

“That’s Tessarion!” you exlaimed, turning to Rhaenyra with a smile. “It’s Daeron!”

You broke out in a run, skirt of your dress lifted as you skidded down the stoney hill, ignoring how Jacaerys was yelling after you to wait.

Tessarion landed on the green grass, stretching her orange-blue wings, as Daeron slid off his saddle, feet on solid ground again. He oriented himself looking around, before relief took over his face when he saw you.

“Sister!”

“Daeron!”

You fell around his arms like countless times before and he held you so tightly, you were afraid he’d never let you go.

“You promised,” he whispered into your neck in a choked voice. “You promised you wouldn’t abandon me.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry,” you mumbled, squeezing Daeron. You didn’t let go of him until his hold on you lessened, knowing he needed to realize that you were, and not gone. Pushing his hair out of his face, you gave him a watery smile.

“How did you know I was here?”

“Brother.”

Rhaenyra’s voice brought you back to reality, as the both of you stood straight, Rhaenyra’s face null of emotion. Jace was furious, his eyes flitting between you and Daeron continuously, while Daemon stood behind Rhaenyra.

“Are you here to deliver a message from the false King that is your brother?”

“I am not a messenger,” Daeron said, his voiced heated. “And as I recall he’s your brother as well.”

His tone is starting to border on disrespect so you glanced over to him, your eyebrows creased. Daeron let out a small sigh.

“I hold no loyalty to my brother,” he added, his voice softer. “Nor am I here to deliver any messages.”

“Then what is your purpose of being here?”

“I’m here because she is,” Daeron answered simply, squeezing your hand. “She has been more kin to me than either Aegon or Aemond. I want to stay on Dragonstone, if you allow it. Fight alongside you.”

“Are we offering shelter for anyone who comes here now?”

Jace’s voice was directed at Rhaenyra, but Daeron narrowed his eyes at him.

“What happened to him?” he muttered to you under his breath. “I do not recall him being this miserable.”

“Daeron!” you hissed, the corners of your mouth tugging up anyways. Jace scoffed, taking a step forward, only to be stopped by Rhaenyra.

“If you are willing to trust me, you have to trust Daeron,” you said, looking at Rhaenyra. You understood that she was wary, she and Daeron barely spent any time together, he was a stranger to her. But you hoped that her trust in you was only half as strong as your trust in Daeron. “If anything, it adds another dragon on your side.”

Rhaenyra regarded you with a impressed smile, giving a small nod.

“Very well. You might stay, Daeron,” she said; behind her, Jacaerys and Daemon exchanged a look, neither of them happy about her decision. “However, I wish to speak with you, alone.”

Daeron nodded, and you squeezed his hand as you followed Rhaenyra back inside the keep, trying not to let Jace’s piercing eyes on you bother you.

“I think it odd. Seeing Rhaenyra again after all this time. My sister.”

You were sitting out in the grass, Daeron’s head in your lap as he talked. He had spent the last two hours in the council room speaking to Rhaenyra. You weren’t sure what exactly they had talked about, but when they both came out, they seemed calm, almost peaceful. You didn’t pry, knowing that Daeron would share whatever he felt comfortable with.

“Does she feel like kin to you?” you asked, knowing how distant Rhaenyra was to Alicent’s children, even when they were younger.

Daeron shrugged, ripping up a blade of grass with his hand.

“She was polite enough. She knows what advantage she has having me on her side. I cannot see us become closer,” he said. “Like us.”

Daeron peered up at you with a grin and you rolled your eyes. Something was still nagging at you, and you knew it wouldn’t leave your head until you had answers

“What happened when Aemond got back? How did you know I was here?”

Daeron’s smile dimmed a little and he looked away, his eyes focusing on the blue sky above you.

“I was already searching for you by the time Aemond returned. I could tell by the look on his face that something had happened, so he told me that he had been out in Storm’s End to secure pledges for Aegon, and that you had come with. Luke had arrived just shortly after Aemond had negotiated with Lord Borros and he got angry, starting a fight, bringing up what had happened at Driftmark.”

Your brows furrowed. You had suspected that Aemond wouldn’t tell the truth, but blaming Lucerys for his bad temper? Anything to paint you as the villain.

“Aemond said you took Luke’s side, your feelings for Jace swaying you.”

Your cheeks reddened. You hadn’t realized that your affections for Jace were so apparent that Aemond would take notice. Daeron continued, unperturbed.

“- and that was when Aemond returned to King’s Landing.”

“That’s not-“

Before you could finish, Daeron interrupted you, his eyes finding yours again.

“I know, Rhaenyra told me what truly happened.”

“But did you really believe what Aemond had told you? That I would just go with Luke because of an argument, leave you?”

Daeron shrugged with his shoulders, his eyes downcast.

“I did not want to. But what was I supposed to do? Call Aemond a liar? I don’t think that would have gone well,” he argued. “I did not have choice but to accept his truth as mine.”

“Then why did you come here if you thought me a traitor?”

Stilling, Daeron pressed his lips together.

“Helaena… She was behaving peculiar… I was sitting with her in the day room, watching Jahaerys and Jahaera play, and all she kept saying was “To save her brother, you must trust your sister” while looking between me and Jahaera,” he told you and you frowned.

To save her brother, you must trust your sister?

“What does that mean?”

“I am not quite sure,” Daeron said, shaking his head. “But I knew it must mean that Aemond was not telling the truth, that you had left because of something else.”

You bit back a smile; it amused you how Daeron did not hesitate to think of you when someone mentioned his sister, but hummed in thought, unsatisfied with his words.

“What if she did not mean me? What if she was talking about Rhaenyra?”

The sound of footsteps crunching on the gravel leading up to the small cliff made the two of you paused. You both looked up just to see Jace arrive to the top, stopping at the edge of the field stiffly. Daeron propped himself up on his elbows, glancing to you, then back to Jace slowly before he got to his feet, dusting off his clothes.

“I should go to the dragon mount. See how Tessarion is faring.”

You knew exactly what he was trying to do and you shook your head quickly, pulling yourself up.

“Daeron…!” you almost shouted, but the young Prince already departed. As he passed Jace, the older gave him an almost imperceptible nod, before Daeron disappeared down the hill. You let out a small frustrated huff, your eyes flickering to Jace before you turned away again. His steps were careful as he came closer, and you wrapped your arms around yourself, not looking at him as he came to a stop next to you.

You were the first to speak.

“I am surprised you didn’t call Daeron a traitor as he passed you.”

In hindsight, you could have chosen less biting words. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Jace clench his jaw.

“I wouldn’t.”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“I am not!” Jace sighed. “I did not come to argue with you.”

“Then what have you come for?”

Jace fell silent again and you shook your head in exasperation. It was hard for you to read him; he seemingly had made it a habit to guard his emotions. When Jace finally spoke again, his words surprised you.

“I always envied him.”

“What?”

“Daeron,” he clarified. “When you wrote to me that you were to be sent to Oldtown with Daeron, I was furious. I begged mother to let you come with us, but she said it would be seen as disrespectful towards Alicent. She wanted to avoid a fight.” Jace scoffed, shaking his head. “The irony does not escape me.”

He paused, his gaze on the horizon. Two dragons had made their way out of the dragon mount, flying in the sky, stretching their wings. One, you were able to recognize as Vermax, with his orange green scales. He had grown exponentially since the last time you saw him. The other dragon was unfamiliar to you, but the dragons seemed to have a bond as they flew around each other playfully. You took your eyes off of the dragons to look at Jace. He was already looking at you, his cheeks pink.

“I looked forward to your letters every day,” Jace admitted, ducking his head. “… It eased my longing, if only slightly.”

Your lips pursed into a pleased smile.

“You longed for me?” you teased.

“Did you not long for me?” he asked quite bluntly, his eyes searching yours. “Or was what you had enough for you?”

Letting out a small huff, you shook your head, knowing what he was insinuating; the same thing that Aemond had hinted at only a few days prior.

“Daeron and I are like brother and sister, I do not long for him in any way than you do for Luke.”

Jace nodded, his smile delighted. But you let out a sigh, wringing your hands.

“If you truly felt like this… Why have you treated me so horribly ever since I’ve been here? Why have you stopped replying to my letters?”

“It’s not…” Jace trailed off, pulling his face into a frown. “After we received the news of my grandsire’s passing, mother has been on edge, preparing for war. We all have. And I felt guilty, I didn’t want to be distracted by anything, and whenever one of your letters arrived, I couldn’t get my mind on anything else than sitting down to write back to you. So I just… Stopped answering. And I thought I could write to you when all of this is over, but then you were suddenly… Here.”

Jace broke off, pressing his lips together. “You were supposed to stay in Oldtown, far away from the war that is brewing. Now you quite literally launched yourself right into the middle of it all. I thought it incredulous that you would just show up and save my brother… Like in a dream.”

Your chest ached. You had not realized how worried Jace was for you.

“But you thought I was spying for information,” you reminded him.

“I didn’t really believe you would be capable of doing so… But I couldn’t let my feelings cloud my judgement. Mother counts on me, and as her heir, I have to fulfill my duties.”

Biting your lip, you nodded, your chin low. While you understood why Jace had been behaving the way he was, it still hurt to be treated that way.

“I dislike causing you anguish,” he said quietly. “Can you find it in yourself to forgive me?”

“The way to forgiveness may not be easy,” you warned him, a small smile on your face. “I am not known for being very forgiving.”

“Then it will be so much more rewarding,” Jace quipped, smiling at you.

The both of you fell into a comfortable silence, staring out in the distance, the dragons dancing in the sky. You almost flinched when you felt Jace hesitantly reach for your hand; it was the first time he let go of the hilt of his sword since you got to Dragonstone. Swallowing nervously, you laced your fingers with his, feeling the tension bleed away from his limbs. For a while, you just stood there, hand in hand, lending each other comfort in the silence. A silence Jace soon broke.

“Do you want to go for a ride on Vermax?”

Your eyes lit up at the sudden invitation, but you held your excitement at bay, not wanting to seem too eager. Seeing Jace’s face however, it told you that you better work on masking your emotions. While the imminent war brewing in the near future scares you, you didn’t want to forego small moments of happiness, you were sure the war held plenty of misery and frustration. You would enjoy every single smile you could shed.

“I’d love to.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author’s note: before you ask, i’m not planning on writing another part! maybe a few drabbles in the future! 🫶🏼

[justaz]

Young prince Arthur exploring the castle bc his emotionally and mostly physically absent father doesn’t care what he does as long as he gets his studies done. He pretends he’s a brave knight with a small wooden sword in hand and ventures down in the belly of the castle and stumbles upon a cavern under the castle. It’s not long before Kilgharrah lands before him and laughs at the young child before him, a baby really. This is no Once and Future King. But…Arthur does not scream and run, he holds up his wooden sword, shaking with terror as he stares down the ferocious beast, full of courage. And Kilgharrah stares and stares and stares before sighing heavily and going, “Fine. I’ll adopt you. Stop looking at me like that.”

Anyways, Arthur grows up visiting Kilgharrah and hearing about prophecies and destiny. He watches Kilgharrah perform small bits of magic and grows up knowing the truth of what’s happened. By the time merlin arrives in Camelot, Arthur is pro-magic and anti-Uther but holy fuck is he the most arrogant prick of all time. Not only did he grow up a prince to be king, he grew up knowing he was to be a king of legend. Merlin bullies him relentlessly like in canon and everything happens as it did.

But Arthur visits Kilgharrah for advice of magical threats and leaves like right before Merlin visits him for advice. Kilgharrah never says anything bc he likes to watch them be idiots. Arthur and Merlin sneaking behind each other’s back to use/consult magic (users) to help solve their issues and never telling the other. But Arthur keeps failing. He goes to find a powerful enough Druid or Sorcerer to combat magic from a High Priestess and he can’t find anyone. However, as if by magic (ha ha ha), the threat is neutralized without Arthur’s interference. Baby boy is so confused.

This goes on for years and slowly breaks down his confidence as he thought that being the Once and Future King meant conquering all these threats and protecting his people yet…he can’t. He hasn’t properly neutralized a threat in a while, bc I mean sometimes it happens but the other times he’s knocked out for SOME FUCKING REASON. So he’s moping in his room and Merlin’s like “What’s wrong?” In a super soft voice when he sees Arthur’s kicked puppy look.

Arthur barely thinks about it before telling Merlin. He’s wanted to for years but he never wanted to drag Merlin into danger by getting him involved in treason bc while his father would be irate with him, Uther wouldn’t hesitate before chopping off Merlin’s head. But Merlin has always been there for Arthur, and rebuilt his confidence despite the other times where he’s humbling him. So Arthur tells him everything. And Merlin is silent. And quiet. And silent. And quiet. And silent. And quiet. And-

He starts cursing the dragon angrily and drags Arthur down through the castle to Kilgharrah’s cavern. The dragon is already there laughing his ass off. Arthur is confused on how Merlin knew where to go. Merlin is shouting curses up at the dragon. Kilgharrah just looks down at them as he laughs and is like, “Finally, the Once and Future King and Emrys have united.”

Arthur (grew up knowing he had someone out there who was “half of his soul” as Kilgharrah said which he took to mean his soulmate and has been fantasizing about meeting this mysterious and powerful Emrys and…other things… Well, until he met Merlin. Then the fantasies featured all three of them) is…staring at Merlin wide eyed and flustered and a little turned on at how the small human is shouting angrily at the big dragon as if the big dragon couldn’t just stomp the both of the small humans or roast them alive. Arthur’s fantasies merge Merlin and Emrys together and it’s back to just the two of them.

Merlin is grumpy bc he had to hide his magic from Arthur for YEARS only to find out that the clotpole was ON HIS FUCKING SIDE?????? AND THE DAMN LIZARD KNEW ABOUT IT????? Oh, Merlin wants a set of Dragon scale armor and Kilgharrah’s golden scales would suit him nicely, he thinks. He’ll skin the damn beast himself-

[sunderwight]

Bingge vs Bingmei but it's a fucked up prince & the pauper style situation.

Su Bingge is the son of Su Xiyan and Tianlang Jun, the emperor of the demonic realms, the tyrant with a harem of hundreds of women and countless enemies.

Luo Binghe is the son of a human washerwoman and an unnamed demon who took a passing fancy to her, who has spent his life struggling to make ends meet and barely escaping death at the hands of anyone who recognizes the signs of his demonic heritage.

Luo Binghe is also a dead ringer for Su Bingge. There are some differences -- Luo Binghe has fluffy, curly hair while Su Bingge's locks are pin-straight. Luo Binghe has a somewhat boxier build, while Su Bingge is slender. Luo Binghe's skin tans in the sunlight while Su Bingge remains eerily pale no matter the elements. But the differences aren't all that noticeable to anyone who isn't looking very closely and can be easily taken care of with wardrobe & styling, and their faces are identical.

The only true issue is that Luo Binghe can't fake a heavenly demon's cultivation, his demonic ancestry is pretty high level but not heavenly demon level. Luckily a rare magical item helps with that. All Su Bingge has to do is infuse it with his blood & qi, and if Luo Binghe does the same and wears it as an amulet, it at least gives Luo Binghe's qi the appearance of Su Bingge's.

So when Luo Binghe is captured and brought to the palace, Su Bingge decides to keep him as a potentially useful body double. This could be really handy for uncovering threats or misleading enemies. The only issue is that Luo Binghe must be trained to conduct himself convincingly as Su Bingge, needs to raise his cultivation level to adequately mimic some of Su Bingge's abilities (or even hold his sword), and also cannot be allowed free access to Bingge's harem (for obvious reasons).

Enter Shen Yuan, a demonic cultivator, historian, cultural expert, and monster enthusiast who is somewhat notorious for his encyclopedic knowledge of Su Bingge's life and character. He's written a couple books on the subject. To keep up appearances, Shen Yuan is brought into the harem under the guise of a new wife, and more or less secluded with Luo Binghe to train him up. This way, if anyone catches them it will simply seem as though Su Bingge is spending time with his latest wife, while also providing Luo Binghe with training, oversight, and someone to help cover for him if he is approached unexpectedly. Luckily Shen Yuan is petite enough that just dressing him as a particularly modest woman works out.

Despite some mortification over the logistics, Shen Yuan takes his job seriously -- at first as a loyal subject of the emperor, but then because he soon realizes that sweet & hardworking Luo Binghe stands very high odds of dying if things go even slightly wrong. Honestly, the poor kid has high odds of dying even if he learns to perfectly imitate the emperor! This is not a safe situation! Shen Yuan himself doesn't have the greatest prospects either -- this is the type of court secret that needs to be kept at all costs, and once Shen Yuan's finished training Luo Binghe, the most logical thing to do would be to permanently ensure his silence.

He knows this story probably ends with him dying on the emperor's command.

But what else can he do, except try his best to loyally accomplish the task given, provide Luo Binghe with all the tools and training possible to survive, and cross his fingers? He's loyal! He would never talk and endanger his student or his emperor by spilling their secrets!

Luo Binghe doesn't think much of the emperor with the same face as him. If anything, he thinks he might despise that man. But this new life of his, in his quiet corner of the palace with Shen Yuan, is maybe the happiest he's ever been. If he could he would block out the world beyond forever, and just live peacefully with Shen Yuan and their lessons and studies, learning to cultivate and cooking meals for just the two of them.

Su Bingge watches in secret as this teacher with the same surname as his own heartless tutor (long dead by his own hand, now) dotes and fusses over his double, and begins to harbor sentiments that are difficult to put a name to.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Tormented Spirit | 18

Part 1 [...] 14 15 16 17 18 19

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 4k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, DD:DNE, emotional constipation, pregnancy, miscarriage, panic/anxiety attacks, suicidal ideation, attempted suicide, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: im tryna finish this fic fr | cross posted on ao3

@arabellasleopardcoat @prettybiching @astrogirl01

Thunder and lightning conversed in the halls as another Targaryen is born. Alicent had started her labors at the hour of the owl and a servant came to rouse you. Daemon, barely meeting a deep sleep since his return, nearly smothered the girl who had come to alert you of your sister's condition.

Helaena was born amidst a storm. It was rather poetic, thinks Daemon; the child inflicted the same weather over his heart.

You loved her dearly. You loved her as much as you loved your beloved Aegon. Alicent was grateful for your presence. You were more than a welcome reprise and a steadfast support during this time. Still, she was careful not to burden you with too much, as the image of you holding your own babes flash behind her eyes each time she sees you hold her hers.

It tears at Alicent to see you with Aegon, and now Helaena. As much as she knows being with them heals you, she can't help but worry it also chips away at you in equal fervor.

It goes without saying this worry is tenfold to Daemon. As greatly agitated he is with how frequent and prolonged your visits to your sister and her children were, he choked it down and allowed you your space, your sacred privacy. He could not bear to see you behold the babe anyway.

Helaena, to you, was as much as a storm, your eyes were nary dry when you held her. Daemon had watched you once, you examined her fingertips and ears, smelled her feet and cheeks, traced her nose and brows. You laughed only to cry. Once was enough.

Viserys, in all his gladness to see his third born, tried to comfort him, but the you-will-have-this-joy-soon was not a welcome sentiment, nor was it comforting.

He only had ill-thoughts.

The gods supplied you your lost children through your younger sibling.

Daemon did much to drown out his melancholy, and yet it seemed to follow him wherever he treads. Even now, his mount was just as ill as he, if not worse.

"How fares he?" Daemon asks, mostly himself as he walks towards the blood wyrm— he finds he could not lately call Caraxes that, as his scales were uncharacteristically blanch.

"Ñuha dārilaros," a dragon keeper walks over to him, "Caraxes ēza daor ipradārin." My prince, Caraxes has not eaten.

The prince frowns as he brushes his hands on his mount's face. Caraxes, at least, acknowledges Daemon's presence with a huff, but it does not ease his worry, "kostagon ao sylugon naejot mazverdagon zirȳla ipradagon arlī?" Can you try to make him eat again?

The dragon keeper nods, "hen rhinka." Of course.

Daemon watches as three live goats are offered up to Caraxes. They bleat in front of the beast's face, unaware of their doom, and yet it seems there was no doom, as the creature turns away in disinterest.

Daemon huffs and pats his mount's cheek, "ao qopsa run," he walks into Caraxes's direct line of sight, "gaomagon jaelā nyke naejot kisikagon ao nykēla?" He stares at the dragon, who seemingly grumbles. The prince draws Dark Sister. You difficult thing. Do you want me to feed you myself?

With swift strokes, Daemon slays one, two, and three goats, their blood sputters on the ground, pooling by his shoes; he cares little for it. He sheathes his sword and grunts as he lifts a severed head to his dragon's maw.

"Ipradagon," the prince commands. Eat.

Caraxes turns to his master, sniffing the air.

"Ipradagon, valītsos," Daemon speaks like a father to his petulant son. His sigh of relief and irritation is of the same fashion as he watches Caraxes stretches his tongue towards his arm. Eat, boy.

The sound of the goat skull crunching between dragon teeth is, in truth, disturbingly loud, but to Daemon, it was a noise most welcomed. He raises a brow as Caraxes lifts his head a little, parting his large jaws in a rather submissive manner.

Daemon is unable to withhold his eyeroll, but the quickly picks up the two other heads on the floor, "fussy thing."

The dragon keepers watch the prince and his ride, feeling relieved the creature is finally feeding, and of course, wholeheartedly enamoured by their dynamic.

After Caraxes swallowed the crisp goat heads, he opened his mouth again and made a soft screech at Daemon.

Daemon was not having it, "gaomagon nyke jurnegon hae aōha urnerys?" He places his hands on his hips, which only made Caraxes whine more. Do I look like your keeper?

He makes a face at the screech, especially because the exhale was laced with foul dragon breath. With a poing to the felled goats the dragon keepers move forward and pick up the bodies, ready to throw it into the dragon's mouth. Except, before they could get close, Caraxes screeches, causing Daemon to flinch and scold his mount for his loudness. The dragon keepers immediately heed the warning, and drop the goat body, stepping back.

Caraxes grits his teeth and huffs, nudging his rider with his snout.

Daemon topples and pushes his dragon back in annoyance. Regardless, he bends down with a huff and picks up the largish goat with a grunt. Caraxes gratefully feasts on his meal once he's fed it.

Daemon grumbles and repeatedly swats Caraxes on the neck, "iksā hen qogron." You are out of line.

Caraxes responds only by opening his mouth again.

"Bah," the prince makes a face, "ao iēdrosa emagon hubre isse aōha relgos!" You still have goat in your mouth!

The dragon remains still, mouth agape.

Daemon groans sharply and struggles to feed him the other two carcasses, but does manage it in the end, much to the satisfaction of his prissy dragon.

As true as he could say his vexation was, there was truer affection in Daemon as he watched his dragon eat. He was glad to be needed by Caraxes. In fact, it fed an emptiness in him that was left gaping by his wife.

He sighs.

His wife.

He strokes Caraxes's scaly cheek.

You would undoubtedly still be in Halaena's nursery, though you should really be having lunch. Daemon frowns as Caraxes leans into him. He sighs and wonders if he could ever merit such affections from you. He would feed you like Caraxes, if need be, without a single complaint.

Through all this vexation and affection, there remained a worry within Daemon that only blossomed when Caraxes rolled over after swallowing his meal. Part of him wishes that it was all a ploy, and the astute creature wanted only to receive more attention, but he knew if that was the case, the blood wyrm would act more volatile rather than torpid.

Daemon instructs that if anything happened or if Caraxes refuses to eat again, he be alerted immediately. With that, the prince bids his dragon goodbye and cleans the goats’ blood off himself.

The sun shines through the halls of the Keep, and yet he grows icier the closer he gets to Helaena's room.

"Uncle."

He slows when Laenor approaches. Daemon silently nods in regard.

The young prince asks him if he's off to see you then adds, "she is presently in the solar with the Queen and her children. I've just come from there."

"Ah," Daemon nods slowly, "I see."

"They are having biscuits," Laenor offers, "you ought to join them for a snack."

The prince clears his throat, not necessarily liking that he was being told what to do. Still, Daemon nods, "ēza ñuha ābrazȳrys ipradārin? Iksis ziry sȳrī?" Has my wife eaten? Is she well?

"Se sikagon hen dārilaros ēza maghatan zirȳla rōvēgrie kirimves se teptan zirȳla kustikāne, nyke pendagon," Laenor's face softens. The birth of the princess has brought her great joy and given her strength, I think.

"Yes, but..." Daemon shakes his head, "it is not so simple as joy and strength."

Laenor nods, "you should go to her."

"Does she want me?"

He huffs and shrugs, "I do not know, uncle."

Daemon nods, neither do I.

Still, as Laenor and he part, Daemon heads to the solar, wanting nothing more than to see you.

It is quiet in the solar, save for the sound of your voice. It's a wonder no one heard the creaking of the door as Daemon entered, but then again, he too would be so deeply engrossed in your singing if you ever humbled with a song.

He already knew Helaena would be in your arms with Aegon nearby, but he did not know a Cargyll would be by your side instead of your sister. The brazen knight was not only carrying the prince in his arms, as if he was his father, he gazed upon you with such apparent warmth, as if he was your husband.

"— so come rest ye all safe and sound," you sing, stroking Helaena's forehead gently.

Aegon sleepily sighs. His back was pressed against the Kingsguard's chest plate and was sat on his forearm like a chair. He reaches out to your cheek, "again."

"Again?" you chuckle at the boy, "but I've sung it mayhap one hundred times over, my love."

Aegon whines, "again."

You sigh and brush his cheek, "oh, my sweet darling."

The boy leans into your touch and makes your heart melt.

"I will sing if Ser Erryk sings with us."

Daemon grips the doorknob tightly.

Erryk makes a sound, "I will wake the poor princess with my voice, and you know it."

"Nonsense," you hum, "you've sung me to sleep more times than I can count."

Daemon gulps uncomfortably.

"Tis only true because you are weak with numbers."

You chuckle.

Daemon feels like he's being ground alive.

"Again!" Aegon whines rather loudly.

You and Erryk are quick to hush the boy.

As Aegon fusses, you're left with little choice but to give in to him, lest his sister begin to fuss with him. You softly begin to sing, rocking your darling niece in your arms as you did so, "the fishes swim in seas of blue-"

"And dragons breathe fire so red," Erryk harmonizes with you, "all the birds sing sweetly for you, so come rest ye darling wee head."

Your separate melodies blended incredibly together; the richness of your voice seemed to belong with the richness of his. It was fucking unbareable.

"The apples grow up the trees, and flowers rise up from the ground. All the stars shine brightly for you—"

You, Erryk, and Aegon turn to Daemon when he shuts the door with rather excessive force. Daemon clenches his jaw and tries to control the trembling of his hand, "īlen ivestretan aōha hāedar iksin kesīr." I was told your (younger) sister was here.

You face him, still rocking Halaena, "īles... ziry sepār geptot naejot emagon iā kōdrion." She was... she just left to have a bath.

"Mmm," Daemon makes a noise as he slowly walks over to you, "emagon ēdā iā kōdrion tubī?" Have you had a bath today?

You slowly nod, "kessa." Yes.

Daemon grips his hand and nods, "emagon ao ipradārin?" Have you eaten?

"Kessa, lēda ñuha hāedar." Yes, with my younger sister.

"Se aōha mīsior?" he says, eyes trained on you. And your guard?

You take a moment to respond, "... kessa."

Daemon sucks a sharp breath, turning to the said man, "you may go, Cargyll. I will stand as ward for my wife."

"And what of later?"

You turn to Erryk. Daemon grinds his teeth, "what of later?"

"I understand that you do constant visits to the pit, my prince. If you are urgently needed to go there, then princess will be forced to go with you and-"

"My business is my own," the prince bristles, "do not speak to me of my dragon or my wife, as if it is your business."

Aegon begins to wrangle out of Erryk's grasp. The knight promptly sets the boy down, "the only business I have as a knight is to safeguard your wife," he rises and nods, "your grace."

The way he says your wife irks him to no end. Daemon draws in a deep breath in the hope it would calm him down.

"Anne!" a small voice calls. Horse.

Daemon looks down and finds Aegon raising a small wooden figurine of a horse, repeating in High Valyrian, "anne!"

Aegon seems to be handing the toy to Daemon. Daemon feels ill. He mutters softly, "iā sȳz anne, valītsos." A fine horse, boy.

Aegon beams and reaches out to his uncle, as if he wanted to be carried by him. Daemon feels sourness rise to his throat as he bends down to pick the boy up. His stomach rolls when he smells him; he smells faintly like you. Aegon pushes the toy gracelessly to Daemon's face, hitting his nose unintentionally on the way, "fast."

Daemon pulls his head back, "kessa. Anni issi adere." He bounces him slightly, "adere, hmm?" Yes. Horses are fast. Fast, hmm?

"Adere," Aegon mutters softly.

Daemon nods, "sȳz." Good.

You watch your husband and nephew. Where Daemon once believed the boy to be his son and offered him warmth, he now offered him reluctant and half-hearted interactions.

You could not blame him, in fact, your heart hurt for him. You oft wondered how Aegon was to him, perhaps a casual but flesh-grating reminder of what you've both lost, or maybe a physical manifeststion of the Lord Hand's schemes. You don't talk of such things, and you don't think you ever will. Helaena's birth has only wedged you further apart.

"We should bring them back to their nursery," you speak, making Daemon turn to you, but you turn to Erryk. His heart feels like it was being sawed in half. You shift Helaena in your arms, "Daemon and I can go by ourselves."

Erryk lifts his chin reluctantly before nodding, "shall I tell my brother to continue with his shift?"

You turn to Daemon, raising your brows.

Daemon turns from you to Erryk, "I will manage."

Erryk clenches his jaw and nods, "as you command."

The walk to their nursery is filled with chatter, thanks to Aegon and his wooden horse. Daemon is amazed by how many words the child knew in both common tongue and High Valyrian. He evidently loved mixing both speeches together.

"And princess with zaldrīzes—" Aegon babbles as his toy horse runs across Daemon's chest. Dragon.

"What did the princess do?" asks Daemon, eyes on the boy.

"Sōvegon!" Fly!

You chuckle and Aegon makes a roaring sound.

Daemon pulls a dubious expression, "se dārilaros kostagon sōvegon?" The princess can fly?

Aegon nods, "DRACARYS!"

You laugh a little louder. Daemon's breath hitches at the sound, his violet eyes immediately landing on you. You reach a hand to Aegon, brushing his chin, "Caraxes really left a mark on him."

Daemon watches you pull away. He longs to be touched similarly, "his soul nearly left his tiny body. His fearful screams nearly rendered us all deaf."

You snort, raising a brow, "he was overwhelmed, as would anyone be the first time they meet a dragon."

"I was not."

You huff and turn to Helaena, "rijes aōt." Congratulations.

Daemon smirks softly.

As you drew near to the nursery, you find that Alicent was on her way back to the solar. You smile at her and she smiles back at you, though her expression slightly dampens at the sight of Daemon.

"Sister," Alicent greets you, reaching out for Helaena. You gently hand over her daughter and she sighs, kissing her forehead. She gives you a look, "will you join me as I breastfeed?"

You shake your head, "I..." you motion to Daemon, turning to him as well. You don't know what to say though.

Daemon finally puts Aegon down and the boy gratefully goes up to his nursemaid by the door to his room, showing her his wooden horse. Your husband speaks, "I would like to have my turn with her."

You rub your hands together.

Alicent turns to him only to turn back to you to smile softly, "yes... I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yes, of course, my love," you rub Alicent's shoulder.

Daemon watches you pull away. He feels his own shoulder grow cold.

Alicent retreats into her children's nursery. You and Daemon walk off in silence.

It remains silent until you break it, "where to?"

Daemon turns to you, "hmm?"

"Where are we heading?"

He stares at you. He gulps at the sight of your skin, of the furrow of your brows, of the baby hairs framing your face. He knows that you smelled so good, that you were so warm, that you were so soft. What torment it was that he could not simply touch you.

Your brow raises, "Daemon?"

"Hmm?"

You stop in your tracks.

His heart stops. He begins to slightly panic, especially due to your expression.

"If you wish to visit Caraxes in the pit, I will not stop you."

He says nothing.

"It's just that if you must go there in haste, I will not be able to keep up," you rub your hands, "as Erryk menti-"

"Please," he raises a hand, "do not name him so cordially."

You press your lips together.

"Pray, do not mention him at all," he lowers his hand.

You raise your brows and slowly shrug, "as you wish..." you motion vaguely, "but are we to go to the pit?"

Daemon shakes his head, "if you wish it. I saw him just before coming to you."

You turn to your hands as you think, "is he quite unwell?"

He watches you fidget with your fingers.

"I do not know if my presence is welcome," you slowly look up at him, "perhaps I will make him more ill."

Daemon furrows his brows, "you would not."

"... what's more, perhaps I am the reason for his illness."

Daemon's brows tighten further. The sentiment gnaws at his rib. He tilts his head as he shakes it.

You watch him shuffle in his spot, and you realize rather quickly, he did not know whether or not to reach out for you. He doesn't.

He crosses his arms instead and huffs, "you believe your tiny being is the cause of illness for a creature a hundred times your size?"

"... one need only a few drops of poison to kill."

"You speak as though your blood is poison."

You look away, shrugging once more, "it might as well be."

"Yet it is not so," Daemon finds himself chuckling incredulously. The sound makes you turn back to him with a hardened expression; it softens his own. He gives into himself and takes your wrist, "I-"

The feeling of you flinching makes him tense.

He sighs and continues slowly, "I... highly doubt that if you were poisonous, your presence would cause people— Aegon, Helaena, Alicent... your damned wards, to bloom."

Daemon measures your reaction. He does so with such singlemindedness, he does not realize he was rubbing your pulse. It causes your skin to prick with gooseflesh.

"You've made even Laenor think so kindly of you," he slowly releases your hand, "why would he bother if you were so... perilous?"

He notices the way you rub the area he touched as though you had been burned. He tries not to take it to heart, but everything you do goes straight to it. You blink rapidly to avoid from tearing up, "pity."

"Pity?" Daemon repeats, jaw hardening at your rapidly increasing sorrow. He mutters softly, "you would paint the world so generously and believe so many souls sympathize with the sorrows of others than simply believe you are not poisonous?"

You chuckle dryly and turn away, rubbing your eyes, "I would-"

"You are lovely."

You turn back to him, wiping your face.

"I-" he starts, choking on his spit, "I love you."

Your lips wobble.

Daemon is winded when you reach for his cheek. A shiver runs down his spine as he immediately presses his hands atop yours. He leans into your touch, his eyes searching your own.

You frown and rub his chin, "apologies..." you sniffle, "I do not mean to cause you such misfortune."

Daemon stops your attempt to pull away, "a prince is nary misfortunate."

You pull away after a prolonged moment of staring.

You do not know why you both end up in dragon pit. You find it was a rather bad idea, as the sight of Caraxes sprawled on the floor like a soggy piece of parchment made your stomach curdle.

Daemon leads you towards him and Caraxes barely perks at the sight of you. He does huff though when Daemon presses your hand to his snout. You frown at him, "ñuha mijegindita valītsos." My poor boy.

Daemon turns to you and ponders if perhaps the gods made his mount this way so that he could have a reason to share such tender moments with you. The gods give as they take.

"Do the keepers know what is wrong with him?" you ask Daemon.

He merely shakes his head.

You sigh and rub Caraxes gently, "never mind it. I will keep you in my prayers."

All the prince wants to do in this moment is to embrace you, but all he does is wonder if he was in your prayers... and worry if you still prayed the same terrible one.