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lauraneedstochill · 2 years

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The object of my desires

summary: You overhear Aemond making a snarky remark about the way you dress. You decide to teach him a lesson. warnings: friends to lovers (both are idiots), a dash of angst, a lot of teasing, things get very heated (NSFW), with a sprinkle of softness. words: ~6500 (it was supposed to be shorter but they started making out...) author’s note: the idea first popped into my head months ago when I saw this post. also, for the longest time I’ve been thinking that “you are the bane of my existence” monologue is a perfect fit for Aemond — and yet I haven’t seen a single fic* using that quote?! so I finally decided to give it a try.

If anyone asked you to describe your relationship with Aemond, you would’ve said that the two of you were almost friendly. The almost part was the trickiest one to explain because, even though both of you acted very content with the way of things, you still couldn’t help but think that you wanted something more, no matter how much you’ve tried to deny it.

You got to know him through Helaena who you befriended when you were ten and six. A year older than you, she was the weird girl no one wanted to talk to and you approached her out of curiosity but soon learned that she had a cheerful nature and quite a nimble mind. She loved your sharp sense of humor and energetic wit and the two of you became close, your contrasting personalities complimenting each other very well.

Your introduction to her brothers was brief and for a couple of months, you didn’t interact with either of them. She’s been married to Aegon for four years back then and even though he immediately didn’t strike you as a faithful husband — always a cup away from being wasted and shamelessly gazing at every maid’s legs — he mostly looked harmless. Aemond, however, was the exact opposite — guarded and collected, he kept his distance from everyone, making it clear that it was his choice. You could only get a good look at the prince when you were passing the training yard, and a couple of times you found your gaze lingering on him — on the lean body and tense muscles, on the way he moved the sword with ease. In those moments you felt the danger radiating off him, yet it never scared you away. But you knew better than to fawn over the prince who seemingly paid you no mind.

A significant change came on the evening of Aegon’s ten and ninth birthday which Helaena begged you to come to — you weren’t fond of big events but couldn’t say no to her. For the most part, the feast was tolerable as you’ve spent it by her side, making glib remarks about the guests, much to your friend’s amusement. But when the celebration died down and all the nobles began to disperse, Aegon, drunk out of his mind, decided to make advances toward his wife whom he ignored for the duration of the evening. His approach was harsh and unexpected, and the look on Helaena’s face shuttered your heart.

“Your grace, your manners escape you,” you tried warning him, shielding your friend but Aegon was too wasted to notice your fiery gaze. In his inebriated state, he probably mistook you for a maid as he grabbed your arm in an effort to shove you aside. Next thing you know, your fist connected with his nose — and then Aegon was lying on the floor, eyes wide and blood gushing down his face as you stood next to him, fuming. Before he could think of an answer, Aemond appeared out of nowhere — just in time to drag his brother away, while the drunkard was hurling insults at you in a frenzy. Only when they left, it dawned on you what you just did.

You expected for the king’s guard to come for your head in the morrow, but instead, a few surprising things happened. First, you learned that the boys didn’t rat you out, making it look like they were the ones who got into a fight. Aegon did apologize to Helaena and from that day, his temper softened as he never dared to repeat his mistake. But, most importantly, Aemond took a sudden interest in you.

Overall, his behavior stayed the same, but you regularly caught him looking in your direction, and every time you saw each other, he made sure to acknowledge your presence. He never initiated the conversation first, only sometimes curtly voicing his opinion, yet you noticed him paying attention to your chattering with Helaena — and you could swear that a few times he suppressed a laugh at your jokes.

The mystery veil that the prince was surrounded with sparked your curiosity, and you wanted to crack down his guard, to get a chance to know him. The opportunity presented itself one day when Helaena and you came to watch Aemond train. You saw him and Criston arguing as the prince was late to his studies but Cole refused to let Aemond leave until he wins the last bout. Whether he wasn’t in the right mood or had something distracting him, Aemond kept losing, and his teacher only pushed him further, relentless in his attempts.

“Ser Criston, you’re putting yourself in harm’s way,” you chimed in, making the man turn to you with a chuckle, while Aemond gave you a tired look.

“May it be that the finest swordsman of the realm is simply avoiding his responsibilities?” you suggested with a light grin.

“Mayhaps he is in need of some encouragement,” Cole teased.

“Well, I would’ve volunteered to share the burden of learning with him,” you remark. “If only he could win this one bout,” you added, keeping eye contact with the prince.

It took Aemond about two minutes to knock his opponent to the ground which made Helaena gasp in surprise while you were trying to hide a smile. Without a word, Aemond came to you, and the two of you went to the library. On your way there, he kept silent, but you were not intimidated at all. When you walked into the room, Aemond hesitated as if giving you a chance to change your mind. But you boldly turned to him:

“If you mean to scare me with the prospect of studying, I should warn you that I’ve read more books than you can count,” you informed the prince.

It was the first time when you saw him smiling — widely and shamelessly, looking very smug.

“You are full of surprises, my lady,” he grinned. “Do you mean to challenge me?”

It turned out that Aemond liked challenges, and you enjoyed being one. Since that day, you got into the habit of joining him in the library and the prince would accompany you in his free time more often than not. You would dare him to read faster, to fight harder, to engage in conversations — or sometimes to simply have fun. Whenever you had a reason to disagree with him, he was always respectful and found himself entertained by your way of thinking, which made your discussions and even arguments span for hours.

As years went by, you kept playfully bantering back and forth, and Helaena told you that you were the only one allowed to act like that around her brother. You couldn’t understand what his motives were but it was hard to deny that his company was pleasant. Aemond grew up into quite an eligible bachelor and his attention did flatter you, even though he never crossed the line. Sometimes you even dared to entertain the thought that maybe — just maybe — Aemond had a soft spot for you.

Until one day things took a turn. Helaena’s twentieth birthday was meant to be just another celebration that you would’ve skipped if it wasn’t for her. The only way for you to pass the time was dancing which you’ve actually come to love in recent years, enjoying the rhythm of the music that helped to lighten your mood. Your dear friend mostly preferred to sit back so you were often compelled to find yourself a company that would be bearable, at the very least. That evening, you got acquainted with Jacaerys Velaryon, the boy being younger than you but almost a foot taller. He approached you with a small smile on the pretext of knowing Helaena, and you soon learned that he was a good dancer. But the best thing about Jace was that he spend most of his time talking about his betrothed, Baela, who he was absolutely smitten with. The girl sadly couldn’t be present as she had to stay with her dad, who recently sailed home, and the dark-haired boy couldn’t keep his mouth shut. All the time while dancing he was either gushing about her or asking your advice, which you found adorable and gladly chatted with him.

Throughout the feast, you felt Aemond looking at you, probably more than usual. You knew that he wasn’t fond of dancing and even though his gaze on you felt rather good, deep down you wished that he was the one you were spending time with. After a couple of hours, however, you saw his usual spot empty, and the prince was nowhere to be found. For some reason, you got a very bad feeling and, after leaving Jace to take a break, you went to Helaena. She informed you that Aemond left not so long ago, adding that it looked like her brother was upset about something.

That’s how you ended up roaming through the castle halls, giving in to the unsettling feeling churning in your stomach. Passing by one of the chambers, you suddenly hear voices and realize that it's Aemond talking to his brother. You don’t mean to eavesdrop and were about to turn around — but then Aegon mentions your name.

“You are foolish to wait for so long. You could’ve at least asked Y/N for a dance,” his remark is followed by gulping sounds. Is he ever without a cup? You hold back a giggle — which quickly disappears when you hear Aemond’s answer.

“I prefer not to waste my time on such futile activities,” and his voice is unexpectedly grim.

“You may want to reconsider when the lady has every man’s attention. Even the Strong boy was pretty much drooling,” he chuckles, and his words make your brows furrow as you are certain he has no ground to suggest that. You’re a moment away from drowning in doubts, but the younger prince brings you back to reality.

“I suppose it’s hard not to, with the way she’s been dressing lately,” Aemond deadpans.

He says it with a flat tone — yet it feels like a punch that knocks all of the air out of your lungs. There’s a brief pause — and Aegon sounds almost sober when he asks, with a hint of surprise in his voice.

“And what about her dresses?”

“I found them to be... rather bawdy. Although I’m not impressed in the slightest,” Aemond forces out.

Your heart sinks at his words, cheeks heating up. You wait for him to say anything else, to give an explanation, at least one reason for his accusations but there is none. Aegon laughs — and you feel sick to your stomach, realizing that you cannot bear listening to their conversation any longer.

You walk away as quietly as possible, with cotton feet and your hands shaking. You rush past the hall and out of the castle, tears pricking in your eyes. Only once you are all alone, embraced by the silence of the night, you take a deep breath of air. Aemond’s words are ringing in your ears, loud and clear. You look down at your dress in disbelief: the neckline is basically non-existent, your arms are fully covered, and it barely shows any skin at all. And yet he thinks this is inappropriate?

Your cheeks are wet and burning yet you feel anger bubbling in your chest. You never thought Aemond could be cruel — and yet it’s him, out of all people, who let those vile words slip out of his mouth like they meant nothing. Like you meant nothing to him. For years, you heard people calling him cold-hearted and arrogant but you were naive to believe that the prince made an exception for you. Out of all the mistakes you’ve made so far, this one might’ve been the most painful one.

Your outrage spreads like a wildfire as you think back to every interaction you’ve had with Aemond, his every glance and every word that fooled you into thinking that he cared. Was he secretly criticizing you the whole time? How many other jokes did he make behind your back? Who even gave him the right to judge whether your dresses are acceptable or not? As if he is any different from all the other men whose brains turn into mush when they get a glimpse of a female body.

You stop dead in your tracks when an idea suddenly forms in your head. It’s very uncharacteristic of you — at first, you hesitantly brush it off, thinking that it’s not wise to make any emotional decisions. And yet the idea keeps nagging at you for the remainder of the night and for a few hours you ponder if you should take such a brazen approach. But then his unkind remark pops back in your memory — over and over and over.

By the time the morning comes, you make up your mind.

He says he isn’t impressed in the slightest? There is only one way to find out for sure. On the very next day, you take Helaena for a walk in the garden, well aware that her brothers will accompany you as Aegon doesn’t have anything else to do and Aemond prefers to take a stroll after his training. Your dress is close-fitted yet modest, not an inch shorter than necessary. It is not about the dress but what’s underneath it — and the object in question clinks lightly with your every step. You show it to Helaena right away and she finds it delightful, the jingling only making her smile. Then her siblings come to join you, you curtsy but barely spare Aemond a glance. You don’t ask a single question about his day, instead taking interest in Aegon. The older prince gives you a suspicious side-eye but welcomes the chatting. It doesn’t take long before he notices the sound, too.

“Am I the only one who can hear the clinking? I am almost certain that it’s not just in my head,” he debates.

“Oh, it’s Y/N’s doing,” Helaena beams unsuspectingly.

“Apologies, my prince, it’s my aunt’s gift that caught your ear,” you slow down and take a few seconds to make sure you’ve got everyone’s attention.

And then, with one gentle motion, you pull up your dress — ever so slightly, just enough to show your ankle and the thin bracelet wrapped around it. The jewelry is made out of gold and it instantly catches the sunlight, casting warm sparkles on your skin. It’s decorated with tiny coins which make a jingling sound as you slowly turn your leg from side to side.

“I thought it was rather pretty. Don’t you think?” you only look at Aegon.

“Umm yes,” he gulps. “Rather pretty it is,” the prince mumbles, and then his gaze shifts to someone else. You don’t need to turn your head to know who he’s looking at. Instead, you continue with your walk without a care in the world.

“I should ask my aunt to bring you a similar one, my dear,” you suggest to Helaena and she eagerly agrees.

You have a few other gifts for Aemond, too. Next time you opt for a different bracelet — with no coins and no jingling, a simple golden chain. But your dress is a tad bit shorter and the jewelry catches everyone’s eye with ease as it looks like a ray of light curled around your ankle. You deliberately walk through the training yard, arm-in-arm with Helaena. You give Ser Christon the brightest smile, and he politely nods in your direction.

“Good morrow, ladies.”

“How’s your training coming along, Ser Criston?” you ask, and it feels strange to talk to him instead of Aemond. You bitterly remind yourself that you apparently overstated the value of those conversations.

“I’m afraid, we are hardly progressing. Mayhaps you will keep us company? I fear, we are in need of some cheerful words,” Cole shoots a glance at the prince who stands by, his eye fixed on you.

“Aren’t we all, Ser Criston,” you tilt your head at him. “But it seems like my pursuit of lessening your burden did nothing good,” and before he can ask anything else, you walk away, ignoring Aemond completely.

Helaena senses that something is off, giving you a worried look.

“Is there anything troubling you?”

“Not when I’m with you, my friend,” you reassure her and force your smile to look as believable as possible.

Partially, it is true as her company always brings you joy and you don’t want to sour her mood by recalling Aemond’s words that wounded your pride. You refuse to admit that he also grazed your heart. In a week, you accept Helaena’s invitation to join them for breakfast and you decide to up your game. It’s the perfect time of year for sleeveless dresses but the one you pick also has a daring addition: two thin cuts under your armpits. They are barely visible but when you put your arms up, it’s easy to distinguish the contour of your ribcage and the softness of your skin peeking through. You sit by Helaena’s side, easily keeping up with the conversation and not glancing at Aemond once. After the food is taken away and everyone starts wandering around the room, you get up to fix your hair, standing not too far away from the dining table as you raise your hands and run your fingers into your hairdo.

“May I offer assistance?” Aegon leans on the wall next to you, his mouth curling into a smile.

You roll your eyes and are about to shush him when he quietly adds:

“I know what you are doing,” you turn your gaze to him, and he winks at you. “From the look on my brother’s face, I can tell you that it’s working.”

You fight the urge to look at Aemond.

“I’m afraid I can’t share your concerns,” you are fiddling with hairpins absentmindedly.

Aegon shoots a glance over your shoulder and then back at you.

“He seems pretty bothered to me. Also pissed, but that may be my doing.”

“Look at you, my little helper,” you ramble as the cool air sneaks into the cuts of your dress, and you slightly quaver.

“Well, if you are ever in need of a helping hand...”

“I will not hesitate to stick this pin into your eye,” you cut him off.

“No need!” Aegon throws up his hands, cackling. “I’d like to keep them both. So I can have a better look at my brother’s reaction when you do... whatever you plan on doing,” the shit-eating grin on his face tells you that he is enjoying this.

But when you turn around and suddenly make eye contact with Aemond, your own enjoyment fades. You notice his frown and the probability of you being the reason for it doesn’t bring any satisfaction. You let Helaena lead you away, feeling his gaze on your back as you walk out. You do not yield to your emotions, continuing with your plan, as days turn into weeks, and then a month goes by without you as much as sharing a word with Aemond. Truth be told, you want nothing more than to stay away from him at all costs but you will not give him the satisfaction. He said he didn’t like the way you dress — and you make sure he sees every single dress you are in. You stay within the bounds of decency as you definitely have no intention to disgrace yourself, and none of your dresses are borderline scandalous, contrary to what any prince may think. You deign to let him see the curve of your neck with your hair up high, the bending of your shoulders and the sunkissed skin of your arms, the arc of your knees and mere glimpses of the upper part of your legs. You leave the rest to his imagination — granted, he has a good one considering how much time he spends reading.

During the second month, his patience starts running out.

In the years you’ve known Helaena, you learned all the ins and outs of the castle, so you manage to avoid Aemond at first, vanishing from his sight when needed. But, as time passes, you notice that he is tempted to talk to you, and escaping that possibility becomes harder with each day. One morning, when you walk into the yard, Aemond abruptly stops his training upon seeing you, and the two of you just stare at each other for a second, both startled and holding your breath. You are saved by Ser Criston, who calls for the prince, distracting him, giving you a chance to leave, and you all but run away.

After that day, you temporarily cease your visits to the castle, deciding to take a break and make up weak excuses to Helaena. Only now that you were apart, you realize how much you miss Aemond’s physical presence. His sudden, fleeting touches — to help you out of a carriage or to steady you after a fit of laughter, your hands brushing when you share books, his fingers sometimes lightly grazing your waist for the reason you are yet to know. You haven't talked to him for days, let alone felt him in your close proximity, and yet he's constantly on your mind. Somewhere in the midst of it all, you wake up at night realizing you yearn for him terribly. You wish you could go back to that damn evening of the feast, to confront him right away, to maybe get some clarification. But now too much time has passed and you’re too wrapped up in... whatever you plan on doing, so your ego insists that giving up isn’t an option.

When you receive the invitation for Aegon’s name day, you are ready to decline, but then begrudgingly decide to give it one last chance. You practice the look of indifference, the nonchalant tone, the proud gait, and you pull out your best dress. It’s green and the color is so bright, it dazzles the eyes, the material light and flowing — and yet, when you put it on, it feels incomplete. As you look in the mirror, the vivid tone of the fabric suddenly reminds you of something else. It’s a secret you once heard, a hushed conversation between the maids, one of which walked in on the prince when he wasn’t wearing his eyepatch. You only ponder for a minute and then reach for the jewelry piece that definitely will be hard not to notice. The castle is crowded, and you are one of the last guests to arrive. Bracing yourself, you pause at the door for a second. Ser Harrold, who stands there, lets out a surprised hum. “Should I take that as a sign of your disapproval?” you jest, watching his reaction.

“I wouldn’t dare to judge,'” he gives you a polite smile. “But I’m afraid all the men present are at risk of losing reason.”

His comment makes you chuckle and you step a bit closer, letting him take a better look.

“I thought it would match the occasion. Isn’t it beautiful?”

Ser Harrold, gods bless him, keeps his eyes on your face. “As always, it is, lady Y/N.”

It gives you enough confidence to walk in, appearing in all your glory.

The dress is a perfect fit, with a slit down your right side and an open back. The front neckline isn't deep but in the middle of it there’s a thin silver chain with a big, glittering sapphire — and the gem lays perfectly between your breasts. It’s only natural that everyone’s gaze is immediately drawn to the blue spark, all the men in the room gazing at it, voluntarily and not. But the effect their attention has is nothing compared to the wave of heat that warms your body when you feel a very particular gaze finally landing on you. You look right at him — and you catch him gawking, his lips slightly parted as he stares at the sapphire, too, almost in a trance. His hand is gripping a cup of wine with such force, you can see the whitening of his knuckles. When Aemond sharply glances up, your eyes lock for a second, and you look away first. So much for him not being impressed.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Jace waving at you to come sit with him, and you do not hesitate, letting the one-eyed prince out of sight.

You feel like his eye doesn’t leave you for a second.

You are barely able to sit still while dining and let out a sigh of relief when it’s time for dancing. You rush away from the table, thinking it will provide you with a distraction, and you will be glad for any partner if only he can move his legs and keep his mouth shut. You go to the end of the line, lost in your thoughts, and when you finally come to a stop and look to the other side — you see Aemond standing in front of you.

The tall prince with his hands clasped behind his back, wearing all black, stares at you in a way that makes the crowd around you disappear.

When the dance starts, you step toward each other, and he speaks up first.

“I couldn’t help but notice your absence. I find myself wondering what is the reason behind it,” his hand briefly touches yours, your bodies following the music.

“Your question is confusing, my prince. As I was merely doing you a favor,” you swap partners but Aemond only looks at you.

“Your leaving hardly favors me,” the prince says when you’re in his arms again. You feel a flicker of anger rising inside but keep your voice down.

“I was actually counting on you being relieved,” you snort, not looking at him. “Since, as it turned out, you were so displeased with my bawdy dresses,” with these words, you step away from him once more.

A minute later you come back to his side but don’t let him say a thing.

“I’ve always thought bawdy was just another word for a whore. So I suppose I should be glad that you at least had some decency to not stoop so low,” when your eyes meet, you think you’ve never seen him so hurt.

Before he can come up with an answer, you are out of his reach. Then you circle back to Aemond again, and this time your tone comes out hasher.

“I also wonder if you would be so brave to say all that to my face. But it seems that your bravery falters when confronted with the need to speak plainly.”

The rhythm of the music works in your favor, because whenever Aemond tries opening his mouth, you’re swooped away from him, and it gives you time to tighten your self-control. You think you should resent him for his silly words, for his heavy gaze, for him knowing how to dance even though he never once did that with you in all these years.

But you have no resentment for him. All of a sudden you realize what you are actually feeling.

And then the dance comes to an end.

You only curtsy out of politeness, averting your gaze.

“I will not vex you anymore, my prince.”

“Wait, I should —,” he tries to take your hand but you swerve away from him.

“I already promised the next dance to someone else,” you lie. “You are finally free of my company.”

At that very second, when you glance at him before leaving, he looks absolutely heartbroken. Or maybe you just imagined it in an attempt to ease your own pain. Your feet carry you to the library on their own accord, and you’re too distraught to notice until you are already inside, in the dusty silence of the endless shelves. You take a hold of the nearest one, trying to catch your breath. You barely get a minute of solitude before you hear footsteps approaching. And it’s kind of pathetic how easy it is for you to guess who it is. “Your tendency to run away from me is quite unnerving,” Aemond walks in with rapid strides, his voice laced with emotion you can’t read.

His words, however, trigger your reaction in no time.

“Maybe it is because I do not want to be in the company of someone who hurt me,” you turn to him, and he’s already only a couple of feet away. The dim lighting illuminates his silver hair, the outline of his broad shoulders, his eye is boring into you. He looks so beautiful in his frustration, your chest tightens at the sight.

“I would’ve apologized right away if only you let me speak,” the prince retorts.

“Did something hold you back from apologizing sooner? Or were you too preoccupied with being outraged by my clothing choices?” your heart skips a bit at the intensity of his stare but you refuse to break the eye contact.

“I never said I was outraged.”

“You weren’t thrilled, either, you made that very clear.”

“You know nothing of my motives because you refuse to listen to me!” he raises his voice and it startles you. But he doesn’t sound angry.

Aemond is standing at arm’s length — and you can clearly see that his face expresses no signs of annoyance or hatred. Instead, he looks at you with longing.

The air in the room feels heavy.

You run your tongue over your lips to moisten them, and Aemond’s eye darts to your mouth.

“We can agree on one thing,” he drawls, his eye locking with yours again as he moves closer. You take a step back — and feel pressed against one of the shelves.

He speaks with his tone low:

“...You vex me to no end.”

With another step, Aemond towers over you, and when you look up, your faces are only inches apart, and his flaming gaze envelops you.

“You are the bane of my existence,” Aemond breathes out. “And the object of all my desires,” his voice breaks, and you feel him inhaling sharply.

His words are akin to a match that lights up a fire deep in you, the muscles of your stomach tightening involuntarily. With one finger he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, and you can’t help but lean into his touch, your breathing shuddering.

“I’m haunted by your image everywhere I go,” he rasps, his nose brushing yours. “Night and day, I dream of you,” his index finger moves under your chin, close to the pulsating point on your neck. You feel the heat spilling into the pit of your belly, and you want nothing more than for Aemond to kiss you.

“I was raised to act with honor, but that honor is hanging by a thread every minute I spend in your presence,” he whispers vehemently, his words hot against your mouth.

You are dizzy, breathless — and craving him. Everything else is forgotten, erased, nonexistent. It’s just you two.

“You are all I can think about,” you confess with a strangled voice, looking at Aemond through your lashes — and it sets him off.

His lips capture yours in an instant, claiming and burning with need. He pulls you closer, his hands on your back, and yours go up his shoulders to lock behind his neck. Aemond kisses you deeply, hungrily, sweeping his tongue over your lower lip and then sliding it in, intertwining with yours. One of his palms moves lower, outlining the curve of your hip, glides over your leg — and into the slit of your dress. He grabs your thigh, his thumb landing on the inner side of it, and he starts slowly massaging small circles on it. Him touching your bare skin elicits a moan from you and in the heat of the moment, as your mind goes blank and you can only focus on the pleasuring sensation, you spread your legs, and his finger slips higher — to the place where you want him the most.

He breaks the kiss in surprise, and you wait for it to dawn on him. To realize that you are, in fact, completely naked under the dress. You can feel arousal pooling between your legs, your body prickling with anticipation.

“I was under the impression that you owe me an apology,” you unabashedly murmur, looking him straight in the eye.

You don’t know if it’s a challenge or a plea — at this point, you do not care. Apparently, neither does Aemond, as he takes no time hoisting your leg up to his waist for better access, firmly holding it in place. Your respite barely lasts a few seconds before you feel his other hand cupping your sex, rubbing his fingers through your folds. You shut your eyes, gasping for air, as he unhurriedly smears your wetness — and then his finger dips into your core, the sensation making you shiver.

“Aemond,” you sign, your body trembling with desire.

Trying to inhale, you get a whiff of aroma, a mix of leather and salty ocean breeze — and all at once, you are surrounded by him. His scent, his warmth, his scorching touches, the taste that’s left on your lips. He leaks into your every cell.

Aemond nuzzles into the crook of your neck, leaving wet kisses there, his finger picking up the pace.

“I’ve missed you,” he avows. “So fucking much,” he lightly nibbles the skin above your collarbone. “Missed hearing you say my name. Say it again.”

He doesn’t need to ask twice — and the interweaving of letters rolls off your tongue with each breath:

“Aemond”

“Aemond.”

His name fills your mouth, leaving no space for air, your throat tight and breathing rapid. Aemond’s lips move down to your shoulder.

“Oh, the things I want to do to you,” he haltingly rambles, and the implication makes you clench around him, dragging a low groan from the prince.

He leaves a trail of kisses following the silver chain down to your breasts. The gem feels cold in contrast to your skin, and even though your head is clouded with lust, it triggers a memory. You move one of your shaking hands to his face, guiding it up to look at you again.

“I want to see the real thing,” you whisper, gazing at his eyepatch. “Let me. Please, let me.”

His hand between your legs doesn’t stop its movement but the one on your thigh trembles. You are too caught up in the moment to think straight, and before he can answer, your fingers roughly remove the leather patch.

The sapphire glows like a beacon, the cold blue of it is dazzling and piercing through your blurred vision. The tones and shadows are interlacing, cyan melting into azure and dark blue, and it’s mesmerizing. Seeing him like this, stripped of his restrain and his disguise, is the most intimate, precious thing in the world.

“Gods, you are divine,” you moan, panting.

You catch a flash of emotion in his eye — before you can take another breath, his lips are on yours again. This kiss is steady and fervent, and while his mouth melts into yours, Aemond adds a second finger. It slides in with ease, and he builds up the speed that makes you swallow air. He’s terrifyingly good with his fingers, with his every move, precise and fast.

“Aemond,” you whimper in his mouth, but his lips keep chasing yours, and you can only follow, letting him take your breath away again and again. You lose track of time, lose yourself in his arms. His face is always close to yours, he breathes in every moan you make and keeps his gaze on you, watching you squirm, your cheeks flushed and lips quivering.

You helplessly whisper his name, and it comes out as a prayer, the coil in your stomach ready to snap. Aemond gives you a breathless smile.

“You do not need to beg me, ever,” he says in a husky voice. “I will give you anything you want,” with these words, he presses a thumb on your pearl, resuming the well-known circling motion, making you choke on air.

It takes merely a few seconds for you to come undone, the wave of pleasure blinding and crushing over you. His lips are at the corner of your mouth, ready to cover it should you make any loud sound, but you drop your head back, mouth falling slack in a silent cry.

His fingers slow the pace until you let out a quiet whine, and he removes them, carefully lowering your leg. You feel fuzzy-headed, trying to catch your breath, a few beads of sweat rolling along your hairline. One of his hands gently falls on your back, rubbing soothing patterns on your skin.

“I truly am sorry,” Aemond admits.

You chuckle lightly. “I think you already made it up to me.”

Despite the hint of humor, there’s an anxious feeling stirring in your abdomen, and you are afraid to open your eyes to meet his. You don’t know what’s to come and you dread the emptiness that will follow if he leaves.

Aemond tenderly cups your face with his hand:

“Mayhaps my intentions were not clear enough. I do plan to properly court you,” your eyes snap open at his words.

There’s a brief pause before he adds. “But I still need to apologize for my behavior because you deserved none of it. I was unfair with my judgment as I let jealousy get the best of me,” he sounds genuinely remorseful.

You glance at him in confusion, the gears turning in your head for a moment, and then you realize.

"You were jealous of Jace?!"

Aemond looks down at the floor, and there’s something endearing in his evident embarrassment. With your thumb and index finger you caress the jut of his jaw and make him look at you again.

“Aemond, I can barely consider him a friend. And the boy can only think about Baela, he speaks of her as if she is the light of his life.”

“I know that feeling," Aemond doesn’t hide his smile anymore when he’s with you. He brings your hand to his lips, and the sincerity of his words tugs at your heart. He leaves kisses on your knuckles, and you’re overwhelmed with happiness spreading in your chest.

“Do you get that feeling every time we argue? Or when I challenge you?” you inquire with a giggle.

His laugh vibrates against your skin. When Aemond meets your gaze, there are no doubts and reservations left, no room for denial.

“My biggest challenge was not to fall in love with you. I failed miserably,” he puts both of his hands on your waist, drawing you closer. “But I will humble myself before you because I cannot stand the thought of us being apart ever again,” Aemond presses his forehead against yours.

“I don’t plan on it,” you trace his scar with your finger, giving him goosebumps. “But you do know there still will be days when we vex each other to no end?” your voice is barely audible.

He moves his mouth to yours and, before bringing your lips together, he whispers:

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

And neither would you.

the author doesn’t know how to shut up: — the dress is from “Atonement” (although I imagined her neckline a bit differently); — I haven’t written smut in a very long time so... I hope it was okay? any thoughts and comments will be very appreciated because I’m nervous about this 🥺 (not gonna lie, this was kinda self-indulgent so I hope that at least some of you will enjoy it, too!)

* I know there is an amazing fic called “bane of my existence, object of my desire” by @ jasonsmirrorball — I love it to pieces and highly recommend it! 💕 💚 my masterlist English is not my first language, so feel free to message me if you spot any major mistakes!

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qiu-yan · 2 months

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sensitive topic incoming

not a haterpost i promise.

sect leader yao is not a reliable source

further explanation/hypothesizing:

it happened exactly as sect leader yao said: self-explanatory. the version of events preferred by jiggy antis

he mercy-killed rusong: maybe rusong was already showing signs of a life-altering disorder as a result of the incest. or maybe jiggy just felt that, if the incest information ever came out, rusong would be doomed to a life of suffering in a heavily prejudiced society. jiggy himself had spent his entire life suffering and getting kicked around due to his own proximity to society's pariahs/taboos, so perhaps he felt that he could not subject his son to the same miserable existence. thus, jiggy gave rusong a more peaceful end, before (in jiggy's mind) society could force rusong to suffer.

he allowed rusong to die through inaction: this is really only a "kill" under a utilitarian moral framework. by this explanation, maybe jiggy found out in advance that someone was planning to kill rusong; however, for any of the other reasons listed here, jiggy decided to do nothing and allow the assassination to happen. thus jiggy would consider himself guilty of allowing rusong's death to happen through inaction.

he did it to justify eliminating an opponent of the watchtowers: maybe the advancement of the watchtower project, which jiggy knew would make society a safer place, had hit a deadlock because of a particularly stubborn opponent. so jiggy killed rusong and framed the opponent in order to engineer a situation in which his annihilation of the opponent would be entirely socially sanctioned.

and here is where the utilitarian arguments come in. perhaps jiggy knew that the watchtower project would improve the lives of millions of people and would make society as a whole safer. and he saw that one political opponent as the final major barrier. and jiggy could think of no other way to get rid of this guy. so jiggy weighed the lives of those millions of people against his one son, and concluded those millions of strangers were weightier; his son became his iphigenia.

of course, this is still a rather unhinged plan to just come up with on your own, so perhaps a better explanation of events is this reasoning paired with the "he allowed rusong to die through inaction" series of events.

rusong was killed by political opponents and jiggy blamed himself: now we reach the "he didn't do it" section of the potential explanations. jiggy has a habit of claiming kills he didn't strictly perform himself; so long as the chain of cause and effect can somehow be traced to somewhere near him eventually, jiggy will claim credit for someone's death. this is how jiggy takes credit for the death of jin zixuan: even though [novel canon] no one forced wei wuxian to lose control of wen ning and no one forced wen ning to attack jin zixuan, jiggy still acts as if he can call himself jin zixuan's killer, simply because he sent jin zixuan to wei wuxian's location.

jiggy, in pursuing the watchtower project, aroused a lot of public anger. jiggy made himself, and by extension his wife and his child, the political enemies of many, and thus political targets as well. thus, if an enemy targets the life of jin rusong because they are jiggy's enemy, jiggy is entirely justified in feeling as if rusong's death is his fault. after all, if he hadn't pursued the watchtower project, then maybe rusong would still be alive.

jiggy said "he had to die" as a Cope: losing your son sucks. perhaps jiggy, in the despair following his son's death, tried to cope with the new reality by telling himself that rusong would have had to die anyways, because he was an incest baby. if rusong was always slated to die, then the fact that rusong is now dead can now be survived. thus, "rusong had to die" becomes an emotional coping mechanism for jiggy.

no, jiggy himself is uncertain if he allowed rusong to die through inaction: this one is a a bit fanciful but bear with me here. on one hand, jiggy loves his wife and son. on the other hand, jiggy is horrified by his marriage with his wife and by the existence of his son, because his wife is also his sister and his son is the product of incest. jiggy lives with not only this horror but also the constant fear of exposure, because if this information ever got out, the lives of himself, his wife, and his son would all be over.

rusong's growth thus becomes a source of dread, not hope: every day lived brings the possibility of rusong developing some disorder or condition that eventually proves the incest. is it not possible that jiggy, living every day under such fear, might come to believe that things would be better if rusong stopped growing older? if rusong died--then gone too would be the evidence of the incest, would it not?

now along comes the political opponent who assassinates rusong. jiggy does not see it coming and jiggy is thus unable to stop it. but afterwards, upon beholding the corpse of his son, what does jiggy feel? rage? despair? no--relief! he feels relief! though he also grieves, the constant fear shrouding his entire life has, for once, lifted!

but if jiggy is relieved by the death of his son, what does this imply? can jiggy truly say, with full confidence, that he did not see the assassination coming? can he really say, with heaven and earth as his witnesses, that his failure to stop the assassination was not to some degree a choice? is there truly no small part of him that did in fact see the assassination coming--yet, knowing it would be so relieving for him, simply chose to do nothing?

but if jiggy did not see the assassination coming at all--if rusong's death truly cannot be pinned on jiggy at all--then what does that say about jiggy's power? about jiggy's safety? jiggy being innocent of killing through inaction means that jinlintai really is somewhere assassins can penetrate into. then jiggy's son really was killed by a force jiggy had no way of stopping. then, in this situation, jiggy really was powerless.

you can remove the ambiguity and argue the case either way: jiggy knew about the assassination and let it happen, jiggy legitimately knew nothing and could not have stopped the assassination. but the ambiguity makes this scenario more interesting to me. jiggy lives for the rest of his days uncertain if he chose to allow his son to die through inaction, or if he really was just weak enough to fail to protect his son. maybe jiggy's memories of the incident even manage to start distorting after a while, implying either one or the other depending on jiggy's own mental situation.

thus, when jiggy says "rusong had to die," he's uncertain if he's justifying his actions or delusionally coping with a reality he had no hand in making. when jiggy says "i killed my son," he's uncertain if he's even telling the truth or not.

ah well. this is basically original fiction at this point. it's just a potential scenario.

anyways, these are just a few scenarios based on various meta and fanfics of this subject ive read over the past few months. you can probably come up with all sorts of explanations. whatever you come up with, though, should be better than just blindly taking sect leader yao at his word.

#mdzs #jin guangyao #jiggy apologism #mdzs discourse #mdzs meta #yanyan speaks #yanyan polls #sorry again to the jiggy stans for putting what must be a dead horse topic on your dash #i think it's an interesting topic to be discussed so long as the discussion remains in good faith #anyways man i am jiggy apologist but not a stan myself so idk how faithful any of the above is to canon #it's basically fanfiction i pulled out of my ass at this point #jiggy stans feel free to clown on me for misunderstanding your fave #also goddamn i really called him “jiggy” throughout the entire post huh.

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jestroer · 7 months

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The first one I finished, and the final piece im posting for @hermitshippingbigbang! :D This is for the thrilling Sail with us (and we'll show you what it means to be alive!) by @hydeomonster !! Smalletho decide to go sailing and have a time!

#court jester's art #court jester's fanfiction appreciation moment #hermitshipping #<- the fic itself #hsbb 2023 #ethoslab #goodtimeswithscar #smalletho #think its appropriate considering this is for the fic which is yk. about them #im just the kinda guy who cant help their love for gtws and a dramatic moment #hermitcraft #The fic is so good man! Go read!#Had a lot of fun working on this! :D Also being on the team with meta my beloved was a highlight for sure ^^ It's going to post later so!#read the fic and also wait for the amazing art from them!!!

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fromtheseventhhell · 7 months

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Very funny to me how Stansas present her character as being so interesting and complex because of her vulnerabilities, while simultaneously ignoring those same vulnerabilities in other characters. Dany is sold as a bridal slave and lacks agency throughout AGOT and after. Her dragons are either too young/small to utilize effectively or locked away for the majority of the story. They aren't some all-powerful trump card that protects her from harm. Arya is captured as a prisoner of war, forced to watch countless people tortured and murdered, and then essentially enslaved in Harrenhal with no way to fight back. She has an entire arc of feeling powerless, of being a "mouse", during ACOK. She doesn't have "kung-fu" or the ability to magically fight her way out of every situation, she's a young child lacking physical strength with only the most basic sword training.

Sansa isn't the only female character, she isn't the only young character, she isn't the only character who suffered, and no one is obligated to prioritize her. I'm so tired of Dany and Arya being mischaracterized and having their stories erased to prop Sansa up. "Sansa has kept her dignity" In other words, let's praise her for having a level of security that Dany and Arya don't have access to. She hasn't ever been forced to make a hard decision which of course means that she's morally superior to them. They can't even admit to themselves that her lack of action is due to her own passivity. If it doesn't fit their delusion, they erase it from the story and expect the rest of us to play along. Ask one of them what they like about her character without bringing up her being the ultimate victim, and I genuinely don't believe they'd be able to give you an answer. They belittle other characters more than they talk about her and these takes just scream insecurity/jealousy at the content and development other characters have in their POVs.

#arya stark #daenerys targaryen #anti arya bs #anti daenerys bs #asoiaf #anti sansa stans #these being comments on a video of a stansas /correcting/ a Dany stan...the jokes write themselves #/she's a break from the fantasy/ /people would be equally powerless in her situation/ like they aren't even pretending #that they don't use her as a boring every-man self-insert #okay she's subjectively /normal/...what is interesting or important about that in a fantasy novel? 😭#Arya and Dany are so interesting because they have that complexity...vulnerability but also the strength to navigate their situations #and it isn't because they're /special/ it's because that's who they are as characters #Reducing Dany to her dragons or Arya to her combat abilities (which barely exist) is such a disservice to their arcs #but of course acknowledging that they're well-developed and empathetic doesn't square with their fantasy that #Sansa is the most pure important character who deserves everything because she suffered 🙄#they really write entire fanfictions and then go /why don't people think like us?? 😔/#/Sansa kept her dignity/ yeah that's why she's currently part of a plot to poison a disabled child #because she was told she'd benefit from it oh yeah she's sooooooo morally superior to Dany and Arya 😑

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sunsetsandsunshine · 2 months

Note

Hey!! For your next fic could you do Leo and Mikey angst

It came be 2012, MM or rise

~ 𝚈𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 ~

💙🐢🧡 𝙵𝚒𝚌 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢: @tmntalways 💙🐢🧡

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙷𝚒, 𝚃𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚕𝚎𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍!!! 𝙸 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚋𝚛𝚘 ☹️💔…𝙸 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚊𝚍 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝚃𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚛 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 💖💕💘💞🩷!!! 𝙰𝚕𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑, 𝙸 𝚍𝚘 𝚊𝚍𝚖𝚒𝚝 𝙸’𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛’𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 😅👍🏾! 𝙸 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛’𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚍— 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 🫠…˚*• ̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*＊·̩̩̥͙

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙷𝚞𝚛𝚝/𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝟹,𝟸𝟾𝟾

𝙻𝚎𝚎: 𝙼𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚢 🐢🧡

𝙻𝚎𝚛: 𝙻𝚎𝚘 🐢💙

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙼𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚢’𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐…𝚞𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍…𝚞𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚣𝚎𝚍, 𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎…𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚠𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 '𝚞𝚗'. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕? 𝙷𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚐𝚘 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢…

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚜: @shut-up-jo @someone1348 @saturnzskyzz

@savemeafruitjuice @rice-cake-teen10 @mistyandsnow

@skyloladoodles @itzsana-kiddingmenow @titters-and-tingles

(𝙰/𝙽: 𝚂𝚠𝚒𝚖𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚊 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝…𝚋𝚞𝚝 *𝙰𝙷𝙴𝙼* 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢: 𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚐𝚞𝚢! 𝚃*𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚔/𝙽𝚂𝙵𝚆 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚜 𝙳𝙽𝙸!!!)

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚂𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚍𝚎𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜, 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏-𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚖 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝙿𝙻𝙴𝙰𝚂𝙴 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚔!!!

𝚁𝙴𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚁: 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝙰𝙳𝙷𝙳 𝚊𝚗𝚍/𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌!!! 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚒𝚝 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢 ☺️💞💗💓💕

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙰𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚍 🕺🏾✨💞🎶˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

Mikey couldn’t do anything right now. Like…anything.

Well…perhaps he was being a bit too dramatic. He was breathing. And he was fidgeting with his squishy cube. So saying he wasn’t doing 'anything' wasn’t entirely true.

Right now he just…couldn’t do anything…productive.

For example, the box turtle tried making his favorite dishes and deserts! But that endeavor just ended up being a huge mess in the kitchen…and leaving the youngest turtle with a bunch of unappetizing food.

Which he fed all to Raph by the way.

Some would call that choice of action cruel but Mikey would just call it 'using his resources'.

Besides, it’s not like the eldest minded at all. He said, and I quote: 'It has a nice…crunchy feeling to it. Did you put some of Don’s inventions in this?'

Which honestly got a couple of chuckles out of the smallest turtle teen of the bunch.

Then, Mikey tried skateboarding! But for once in all his 14 years of living…it was just utterly boring.

And after all of that nonsense, Mikey then finally tried reading a comic…but he was too unfocused to even get to the second page…

But what was really new? Mikey could never focus on jackshit even if said jackshit hit him right in the shell.

His brothers and sister would always have to remind him to stay focused or 'not do this' or 'not do that'.

For example, a couple days ago Donnie had to kindly remind the box turtle (well…as kindly as Donnie could be anyway…) to brush his teeth.

To. Brush. His. Fucking. Teeth.

And honestly? Having to be reminded to do that was really embarrassing. And the orange banded teen knew his brother didn’t mean to humiliate him internally…but…yeah.

And it’s not like the softshell was wrong either! The youngest turtle just couldn’t freaking accept that he himself couldn’t do such a simple task in the morning.

But literally every task he completely fails to do is just utterly simple ones!

Like cleaning his room or not forgetting things or even keeping track of time!

…And the sad part about all of it was Mikey just honestly could not understand how his family haven’t gotten sick of his annoying tendencies…

And let’s be for real here…that was basically all of his tendencies.

The box turtle groaned loudly in his room, slamming his whole body on his bed as he screamed into his pillow.

There had to be something he could do instead of just wallowing in his own self pity…

And one of those options could not consist of bothering his family with his random bad mood. They had to put up with him 24/7…the least he could do was give them some space.

The youngest then glanced at his drawing notebook hopefully…

…One little sketch of something random wouldn’t hurt, right?

The amber eyed teen reached for his notebook, grabbing a pen from his drawer as he started to sketch his desk because why the absolute fuck not? Based on the objects he’s drawn in the past…sketching a simple desk should and will be easy, right? Right.

That was until the orange banded teen’s pencil tip broke. But it was fine! He could just re-sharpen it, right? Right.

That was until the youngest realized he had absolutely no clue where his sharpener was due to the fact his room looked like a pig stie. And there was no way he was looking for it in…that whole situation.

…The situation he created in the first place.

Michelangelo layed on his bed with his face staring at the ceiling in frustration, he ran his fingernails along his arms, not making really deep cuts with them but going deep enough for it to hurt a bit.

Like a reasonable turtle would, Mikey should probably get one of his stress toys…or better yet, another pencil!

But let’s be for real here…he’d most likely find a way to fuck that up too.

Suddenly, there was a small, quiet knock on Mikey’s door but…in all honesty? He just wanted to crawl into his shell and sob for the next hour and a half. Letting out a niiiiice and quick 'come in' would take way too much energy.

The box turtle let out a soft grunt, letting whoever was on the other side know it was a-okay to come in.

Abruptly, Leo peeked in the room, a wide smile plastered on his face as he closed the door, “Damn, Mikester…it looks like every single natural disaster went through your room…”

“I’m cleaning it.” The youngest grumbled to his brother.

“Really? You sure about that, little bro? Because if my memory serves me correct (which it in-fact does), you said that last week. And the week before that…and the week before—“

“I SAID I’M FUCKING CLEANING IT!!!” The orange banded turtle snapped, sitting up on the bed to glare at his immediate older brother before slowly realizing what he just did.

The youngest’s heart dropped as he looked away from his brother. The orange banded mutant’s eyed widened as silent and small tears ran down his face. He covered his mouth as his other hand turned to a fist, his nails unforgivingly digging into his palm.

“I-I’m sorry…I’m s-sorry…I-I’m so s-sorry…!” He started, rocking himself back and forth before stopping as he was met with a warm embrace. Leonardo hugged him gently but firmly, rubbing the other’s shell in a comforting hold. “Woah woah…! Bud, you have nothing to apologize for…” The slightly older teen said as he rested his chin on the top of his baby brother’s head.

“L-Like h-hell I don’t. I-I just screamed a-at y-you for no reason…” Michelangelo wobbly said. “You were just trying to lighten the mood but I just had to make everything harder like I-I always do…!”

“Mikey—”

“I-I always do this. I-I’m so f-fucking s-sorry Leo…”

“Mikester…I-I appreciate the apology but it seriously isn’t necessary—”

“You’re probably so sick of me and so angry at me. I-I’m sorry I just—”

“Mikey!” Leo gently yelled to get the other’s attention, squeezing the smaller turtle’s hands as he stared straight at him with pleading eyes. “Do I look mad?”

“…N-No.”

“Do I sound mad?”

“…No.”

The second youngest sadly smiled, “So what are you apologizing for, hm?”

“…I-I…dunno…I-I just…I just felt I needed to apologize…” The box turtle mumbled as he looked at his hands. The blue banded turtle sighed, slowly getting out of the hug so him and his little brother faced each other. The slider rubbed the other turtle’s palm with his thumb comfortingly, “…Do you wanna talk about it, baby bro?”

The leader in blue was just met with silence…which he could honestly work with.

“Angelo…you know you can tell me…anything, right? Like…anything. Although, it doesn’t have to be me you talk to about it. It could be Raph or Don or April or even Dad or Draxum! I just…don’t want you sitting here and bottling up the way you feel…”

Silence. Leo continued.

“You’re always there when we need you, Angel. Whether it’s to vent or to just ramble about shit, you’re just…always there. We don’t tell you this enough but we appreciate you always being someone we can lean on…”

Silence. Leo continued.

“But…you do know you can lean on us too, right? Comfort goes both ways and I can see you’re hurting, buddy. So please…if you need to talk to me…I’m right here.”

Mikey sniffled, squeezing Leo’s hand, “I-I d-dunno. Today is just…weird. This whole week has just been…weird.” Leo nodded, giving his brother his full undivided attention, “How so?”

“I just…haven’t been able to do anything…” The smaller teen admitted.

“What do you mean?” The taller teen inquired.

“I haven’t been able to do…anything. Like, I can’t draw, cook or even skateboard! Me!!! Not being able to skateboard— isn’t that crazy?!” The amber eyed turtle laughed bitterly.

“And it’s not like I can’t do it. I’m perfectly freaking capable of doing it in the right amount of time I want but my brain just. won’t. let. me!”

“I keep procrastinating and not doing the stuff I want to do and I have no idea why! I’m tired of just putting things off and being this way! I want to do things without having to ask you guys for help or to remind me or to relate it with a hyperfixation that I have!” Mikey hiccuped, a new wave of tears rolling down his face as his hands shook.

The amber eyed teen sniffled, refusing to look at his immediate older brother at all right now because…holy shit he just overshared a whole lot…

Like…a whoooooooooole freaking lot.

“…That sounds like you.” Leonardo shrugged.

In a state of just shock and confusion, the box turtle pulled his hands away from his brother, looking up at him as lime green eyes met amber ones. “I…what…?” Michelangelo murmured.

“I said that sounds like you.” Leo said again casually as Mikey glared at him, “Yeah. I heard what you said but that isn’t helpful.”

“I’m just being honest with you, Mikester.” Leo said, “Just…let me explain, okay?”

“…You have five minutes before I kick you out of my room.”

“Deal.” The lime green eyed mutant commented, “You can’t draw, cook or skateboard right now. You’re procrastinating and not doing the stuff you want to do in the time you planned…is that correct?”

Michelangelo sent deathly daggers to his brother— which the other wasn’t phased by at all. This time was probably the best time to crawl in his own shell and just sob his eyes out because what kind of dumbass question was his dumbass brother asking him?!

“…Yes.” The orange banded teen mumbled.

“And…why are those bad things?”

“WHY?!” The box turtle huffed out a laugh of annoyance, “Pfft— you’re asking me why. Maybe it’s because it’s annoying?! Maybe because it’s frustrating to deal with and I don’t want to burden you guys with my problems?! Maybe because I don’t want to fucking feel or be this way?!” The youngest shouted, breathing heavily as he finished his rant.

The box turtle looked away again, silently cursing at himself for getting annoyed so easily. “Mikey.” Leo started again, “Your being too hard on yourself, okay? No one is expecting you to be at your 100% all the time.”

“What you just described to me; you being able to not focus or you getting bored easily or procrastinating with stuff is…literally you. You’re just being you.” The slider explained as he held his baby brother’s hand in his. “And I get it. It’s hard to deal with it sometimes and it’s going to be hella frustrating. Like…super borderline frustrating. But you can’t shun them away and just…try to ignore them, bubs…”

“Let’s take moi for example. I’m impulsive, I talk loud and lose things daily. Those three things don’t make up my whole personality but it would be super weird and off-putting if I just…didn’t do or have those three things, right?”

The youngest giggled wetly, “Yeah…it would. A-And by the way, I’m still waiting for you to find that glittery pen kit I gave you…”

Leonardo groaned loudly and dramatically, causing the other teen to giggle louder, “I’m looking for it, okay?! It’s in my room…somewhere.” The taller mutant mused, “But anyways…back to you. You procrastinate, you relate things to your hyperfixations and you can’t do some of your favorite tasks from time to time…those are some traits that make up you, is it not?”

Mikey sniffled, rolling his eyes playfully due to the fact he knew damn well where this was going, “Yeah…”

Leo smiled softly, seeing his younger brother was starting to get his point, “I wouldn’t change a single thing about you, okay? I know sometimes it’s hard to deal with the things you described but you have us for that.” He said as his smile turned to a grin.

“You can come to me— to us— anytime. We love you for who you are…your flaws and all and we just…I-I need you to know that we love you so so much—!” The slider was cut off by a sudden abrupt embrace from the box turtle. The orange banded teen sobbed into the other’s shoulder, clutching the taller turtle like a lifeline.

“T-Thank you…” The box turtle wobbly said through tears.

“Of course, Angel.” Leo said as he hugged his baby brother back, “I love you.” He said as he kissed the other teen on the head.

“I-I l-love you too…”

“Tell your thoughts to shut up.” Leo said as he lightly poked Mikey in the forehead numerous times. The two were sitting on the box turtle’s bed just simply…relaxing and enjoying each other’s company. Michelangelo was sitting in between his older brother’s legs as he had his shell to his brother’s plastron.

Leonardo hugged his brother protectively, resting his chin on the top of the box turtle’s head. “What do you mean?” The youngest giggled out. “I can hear your thoughts, man. You’re not bothering me or disturbing me in any way, shape or form, alright…?”

The amber eyed turtle nodded, squeezing Leo’s hand, “Y-Yeah…I know...”

“I’m choosing to be here because I love you. I don’t feel obligated to be here, okay? You’re not annoying and you, neither your problems are a burden…okay?” The slider said reassuringly, “It’s okay to ask us for help…and we don’t mind reminding you to do things…okay?”

“You’ve said ‘okay’ like, fifty times…”

“Mikey.”

“Mhm…yeah yeah…I gotcha…”

The elder looked at his brother skeptically, resting his chin on his little brother’s shoulder so they made solid eye contact, “I want you to say it.”

“…Say what exactly?”

“I want you to say that you are an amazing person and you don’t need to change a single thing about yourself.”

“You are an amazing person and you don’t need to change a single thing about yourself.” Michelangelo grinned smugly. Leonardo glared at the youngest’s interpretation to his statement, “Mikey, you know exactly what I meant.”

“I said what you wanted me to say…so…” The amber eyed teen trailed off.

“Michelangelo.” The slider said in a warning tone as he poked the other’s side. The box turtle squeaked at the unexpected touch, trying to stop his immediate older brother from doing it again but his brother had a strong but gentle grip on him…

Then the smallest turtle came to recognition that he was stuck in a potential tickle hug with no way out…

…How wonderful.

“L-Leeheeo…doohoo nahat.” The orange banded mutant warned through his giggles, said warning not seeming too threatening due to the fact he was already laughing up a storm. The leader in blue raised a brow, poking the other’s side repeatedly, “I just want you to repeat what I said…in the first person.” The taller teen specified.

The smaller turtle squirmed in the hug, small frantic giggles pouring out of his mouth. This…really wasn’t how he was expecting his day to go. Just about an hour ago, he was wallowing in sadness about the stuff he hated about himself, to talking about it with his brother, to now getting tickled by his brother.

…So could he really complain about how things turned out?

…Yes. Yes, he absolutely could.

“Leeheeon! Plehease dohon’t!” The youngest squealed as one of his brother’s hands hovered over his stomach. Mikey held onto the other’s wrists, trying to stop his elder brother from tickling him but his small attempts ending up to be all for nothing as Leo effortlessly tickled his stomach with one hand.

“LEEHEEHAHAHA!!” Michelangelo laughed wholeheartedly, swatting at his brother’s arms. The lime green eyed turtle cooed at the gesture, now using both of his hands to attack the youngest’s plastron, “D'aww…look at you giggling your head off~! You’re my adorable little bundle of amazingness, aren’t you~?”

The smaller teen shook his head, a faint blush appearing on his face, “STAHA— squeal N-NAHAHA!”

“What~? What was that?” The blue banded mutant asked as he kneaded the box turtle’s hips. “GYAHAH— squeal SHIHIHIT! COHOME OHAHAN!!!” The amber eyed turtle cried frantically as he kicked his legs on the mattress slightly.

The youngest squealed with laughter, curling in on himself as he slumped in his big brother’s hold. Leonardo just sighed fondly at the action, wrapping the other in another hug as he raspberried his neck. “LEEHEEHEE!! PLAHAH— squeak NAHAHAT THEHERE squeak PLEHEASE PLEHEASE— squeak!!!”

“Not there~?” The elder lightly mocked, “What about…here~?” He mused as he used his hands to scribble all over the younger turtle’s ribs. Mikey cackled, shaking his head to try and at least subside the tickly feelings.

“NAHAHA— squeal AHAHAHA!! NAHAHAT THEHEHERE EHE— squeal EHEHEITHER!!! LEEHEEO!!” The orange banded turtle squeaked as Leo stopped for a second, “I’ve tried sooooo many spots, buddy! How many times are you gonna say not there, hm?”

Mikey genuinely squawked louder than a firefighter siren, squirming so much it looked like he was actually being electrocuted. “PLEHEHAHA LEEHEEO NAHAHAT THEHEHE RIHIHIBS!!!” He cackled.

“Not the riiiibs~? Why~? Is it because it’s your tickle spot~? Your tickletickletickle spot~? Because you’re ticklish~?” Leonardo asked as he lightly nibbled the crook of Mikey’s neck.

Michelangelo screamed in laughter, scrunching up his shoulders as he dug his heels on the bed, a couple of his plushies sadly falling on the floor (R.I.P. man…) “EEEHEEHEEP!!! S-STAHAP BEEHEEING MEEHEAN!” Mikey said as he thrashed on the bed.

The slider said nothing, his hands sneaking up to the box turtle’s underarms. “AAAAHAHAHA! OHO NOHOHO— squeak SHIT! SHIHIHAHAT!”

Happy tears slowly begin to appear in the smallest teen’s eyes, he weakly hit Leo’s arms as a last attempt to be set free, “LEHEHEMME squeal GOHOHOHO!”

“Ohonly if you sahay it, bubs.”

“IHIHI— SQUEAK!! LEEHEEHEEON!!!”

“Yeeeees, baby brother~?” The elder dragged out as he kneaded the other’s hips.

“IHI’LL SAHAY IHIHAT I-IHIHI’LL SAHAHAY IHIT!!” The amber eyed teen squealed.

“And you promise not to be a sassy little shit about it~?” The older teen asked.

“SQUEAK YEHAHAHA— SQUEAK YEHES YEHES I-I PROHOHOMISE!”

Leo stopped tickling his little brother, hugging him protectively as the youngest caught his breath slowly but surely. “W-Wahait…whahat squeak wahas ihihat yohou eeheeven wahanted me squeak to sahay again?”

The taller turtle pondered for a bit, thinking to himself before loudly groaning, “That’s…a good damn question. I don’t really remember exactly what I wanted you to say in the first place…” The lime green eyed turtle sighed, “Forgetfulness at its finest...”

The red eared slider adjusted himself, making sure the other was comfortable before starting to speak again, “Well…based on what we talked about…could you maybe just…y'know…” Leo gestured with his hands before groaning, “Do you get what I’m trying to say, man?”

“…I thihink I have ahan idea…” Mikey giggled as he fiddled with his hands, “I shouldn’t beat myself up so much because of some of my traits or quirks. And I’m allowed to feel frustrated and/or upset because things don’t go my way because of them. But…I shouldn’t allow those things to put me down...”

Michelangelo smiled softly, rubbing his palm with his thumb, “They don’t define me as a person but they make me a person. I don’t need to be at my best 100% and I’m allowed to have bad days. And if things get too overwhelming or difficult I can just go to you guys.”

Mikey hugged himself, letting out a small laugh as his happy tears welled up in his eyes, “I’m just…being me. And there’s nothing wrong with that.” Leonardo teared up at his brother’s words, hugging him tighter than he ever had before and burying his face at the back of the youngest’s head.

“Never forget that, Miguelito…never forget that.”

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙵𝙸𝙽˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

(𝙿.𝚂.: 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢��𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌, 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐!!!)

#Rottmnt tickle #Rottmnt tickle fic #Rottmnt tickle fanfiction #Lee!Mikey #Ler!Leo #MWYAHSHSHHSAN #This is actually so silly I love this 💞💗💗#I hope you guys enjoyed the angst 🤪#ADHDERS AND PPL WITH ADHD TENDENCIES UNITE 🙌🏾💕🩷💓💘💝💗‼️‼️‼️#Adhd is a bitch 🖤…#Leo can be an asshole at times but he doesn’t mean to I swear 😭💔#My boy just copes with jokes but he has a hard time understanding that not EVERYONE copes like that #So when Mikey snapped at him and started breaking down he was like: “😁 -> 😄 -> 😀 -> 😐 -> 🫢”#I HATTTEEE forgetting to brush my teeth 😟…it’s so damn nasty man #AND NOT BEING ABLE TO DRAW LIKE YOU USED TO⁉️⁉️⁉️ GRAUGHHHH REAL SHIT #I care about these two sm omfg #I need more content with these tWO LOOK AT THEM 🥹💙🧡!!!#“Tell ur thoughts to shut up 😒” msndhjsjss peak sibling comment #Also I changed my writing style a TEEEEENSY weensy bit if you haven’t guessed #For a while…I haven’t like the **’s I put at the noises that characters made when they laughed :/#Soooo I tried just doing it in italics and AHHUUGHFHS 😖💖💗💘💝🩷💓💞💕#IT LOOKS SM BETTER #I just wanted the laughing to seem more natural #Your just being you guys 🫶🏾#DON’T BE SO HARD ON YOURSELF PLEASEEEE #Eat some snacks!!! Drink some water/juice!!! Exercise!!!#Your allowed to feel the way you do so just take it easy ☺️👍🏾#I’M RUNNING OUTTA TAGS BUT IF ANYONE WANTS TO TALK ABOUT THE BEHIND THE STAGE WORKS ON HOW I MADE THIS I CAN ALWAYS YAP TO YOU ABT IT 😈🤌🏾#I don’t think I implied this very well but Leo feels the same way Mikey feels…so that’s why he was so PERSISTENT on making sure Mikey’s alr #But Leo take his own advice challenge GO 🗣️🗣️🗣️‼️‼️‼️ Maybe a pt. 2 🫢??? Idk yet lolololololol

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drapopia · 20 days

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THINKING THOUGHTS TODAY

i know we have all seen copia in his tracksuit playing his video games, and he’s surely adorable BUT

please consider for your viewing pleasure: copia wearing his tracksuit with a little tank top underneath, laid back on his futon while you relqx beside him, your legs draped over his while he plays his games. he’s slouched against the cushion, the tank top barely riding up and exposing just a peek of his happy trail, silver and light brown ringlets of hair in a delicious little blanket. while he isn’t as skinny as he was in his younger days, you can see where the underlying planes of muscle are defined under the fabric, a soft padding of flesh above it (a testament to his life and how much he has enjoyed living).

and his legs! oh, they look so deliciously packed into those sweatpants. sturdy muscle from gallivanting on stage, sculpted into soft places for you to enjoy (and certainly for him to enjoy as well). the urge to just peel them off right now, though he looks so focused on his game! “dr. mario is some intense stuff!” he teases you.

but he certainly will not say no to you leaning up and running your hands under the shirt, a veritable eden of warmth and softness, though he may hiss and whine “amore, your hands are so cold!” but copia, you’re warming them up! ah, now he understands. surely your hands and more will be burning with a much different heat sooner than later

#my apologies i think about this man and his tracksuit quite often!#let this man be a nerd and also dress comfortably #he can’t strut around ALL the time #the band ghost #my writing #copia #mdni #the band ghost fanfiction #copia x reader #papa emeritus iv x reader

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lilacprose · 3 months

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𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 | 𝚔𝚞𝚛𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚘𝚗

summary; Plot? What plot? word count; 316 words a/n; I am, as Taylor Swift says, down bad for Kurt Matheson. Special thanks to @crumblekitty and @vader-anakin for beta-reading this fic. Listen to Burning Desire by Lana Del Rey (slowed + reverb) for the ✨ vibe ✨ content includes; Some sexy themes oooo but nothing too graphic. No use of y/n. Written in 3rd person. Apologies for the bad writing. Also minors look awaaaaay

God, how he wanted her tonight.

Were Kurt’s burning longings too much for her? Too intense, too fast? A part of him wanted to stop and slow things down. Not rush things with her or scare her. He thought back to a time before the night terrors began. It had been a long time since he'd been in a place such as this. Since his skin had caught fire like this.

How did they even get here?

The sheet that covered his power tools became their bed on that cold wooden floor. In that moment, he regretted selling all his furniture. If he hadn't, she could’ve had a soft bed to lie on. But all logic escaped him when her body got on top of his and her voice moaned his name over and over. His hands were up in her hair as he devoured her with lips that starved. And he thought to himself, fuck—a floor or a bed has no significance to him.

Only she matters now.

Oh, God, how badly he wanted her tonight.

For a moment, she made the images of war leave him. Long-forgotten pleasures replaced the horrors. Bloodied battlefield hands became wrapped around her bare waistline. A cocked gun into two fingers in her mouth. Now, when he closed his eyes, it finally felt good. For once, after 5,654 days, it felt good. When she savoured his bottom lip and tear drops formed in his eyes. When she touched him in ways he himself never could. When she washed over him like water on a beach, each time her waves receded, he’d pull her even closer because he didn’t want her to go.

Oh, God, how much he needed her tonight.

Their voices became louder than the rumbling thunder outside his window. The swift storm approaching, hazing up window glass, coming in faster and faster.

Closer and closer.

Almost there…

#nowhere but here #hayden christensen #kurt matheson #kurt matheson x reader #the last man 2019 #kurt matheson fanfic #the last man #gotagastarwar #tuserlarissa #fanfic #writing #fanfiction #read the italics any way you want #is he thinking it is he saying it? up to you <3 #also listen -- my mans is so stressed let him have a good time for once

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courfee · 4 months

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play to your strengths, but not by the rules

i've wanted to make little art pieces for my own fics for so long and on a whim decided to just start with this one, so here we are :)

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ancha-aus · 4 months

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RealAgeAU Drabble - Information

I am bored and so decided to go write a little thing on this as I had an idea again.

First Drabble over here. original prompt by @spotaus

Prev Drabble

Next Drabble in chronological order here

This one is around the time after the gang met back up again to return to Nightmare but found the castle starting to collapse. about a week after they left.

Also, apology in advance. I slightly re-did the story of Dream and Nightmare. Just to fit it me more. The original story you can find with Jokublog as their original creator.

Warning, unbeta'ed and unedited as always lmao

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Dust sighs as he glances around the empty and dark halls. The whole castle so far had been empty and deserted.

Because they had deserted him. They had betrayed him. They had-

Dust shakes the thoughts and familiar voice out of his skull. No time. They need to find somekind of clue.

Dust looks from side to side as he thinks. The four of them had searched the bottom floor together but found nothing. Horror had split up to search the forest and gardens. Cross went to search all storage rooms. Killer had went to search the basement and cellar.

Which left the normal rooms for Dust to search.

And he had found nothing. Dust groans as he slides to the ground. Where he just sits for a moment.

It didn't make sense. Because Dust had noticed stuff being gone from their rooms. Dust know one of his old hoodies disappeared but it would be the first time they had a laundry mishap. But the other rooms it felt like stuff had been missing.

But there were no signs of breakins or anything. Nothing that suggested that anyone had been here. Which probably won't be for long.

With how difficult it had been for them to even get back here... It is obvious that the magic keeping everything together and hidden is failing.

It is a matter of time before the universe is no longer hidden and then the Stars will come and mess things up even more.

Which... Nightmare most likely realised. And so he left...

Dust groans as he covers his face and thinks. Fuck. They didn't even know what was affecting boss. What had been causing him to grow weaker and younger. To cause him to lose his powers.

And they FUCKING left! Like fucking assholes and ungrateful little shits!

No wonder Nightmare decided to leave as soon as he realised this universe was a lost cause.

Dust sighs as he looks around the hall before his sight stops at one last door. The door he hadn't dared to enter.

It is stupid.

It isn't like they had been good followers before. With them just abandoning the person who had saved them from their own dying AUs as soon as he lost power.

Yet it felt disrespectful to just enter his room.

Dust shakes his skull again and gets up. He marches over to the door and pauses. He raises his hand and knocks.

No answer.

Dust waits for a moment before knocking again, a tiny bit louder.

Still no answer. Dust still waits before trying the door. He isn't sure if he wants it too open or be locked.

The door opens.

Dust stays still for a moment before pushing the door fully open. The room is dark and empty nad Dust makes sure to check all hiding places.

But still nothing.

Dust sighs before aglimmer of silver catches his eye. He tilts his skull and walks over to the bed. On it lays a shining silver band. Dust hums as he studies it and rubs some of the old dust and grim off of it. only to reveal a crescent moon.

Dust stares at it for a long time. It... it kinda looks like the crown simular to Dream's but it is so much smaller. It looks so much more fragile and dull. Dust takes a seat on the bed as he rubs the soft metal. It is clearly old. Very old. But it seems cared for.

Why... Why would he leave it?

Dust looks around the room again and stops to stare at one of the bedside tables. The drawer isn't completely shut. He pulls it over and immediantly sees that a false bottom has been removed and not bother to be put back. Dust looks at the crown and the drawer before testing it out.

The crown fits perfectly in the drawer and once shut you wouldn't even see it unless you knew it was there. He removes the crown again before turning quickly to the other bedside table. Dust dive crawls over the bed and reaches the other side.

He opens the drawer and removes all the pens and papers and notes from it. It seems to be notes on possible universes for them to raid and notes on what to pick up from where. Small 'to do' lists. The drawer is soon empty and he feels around it.

Click.

Another false bottom pops open and Dust grins as the removes it. Only for the grin to fall as all he can see is an old fairytale book. Dust puts the drawer piece to the side and takes out the book.

It is old. Older than any of Nightmare's books in his library. Older than the castle now looks. Even broken and falling apart.

Dust sits back upright and crosses his legs as he lays the book in his lap. The cover shows a large tree with a female like figure next to it. Golden letters at the top spell out DreamTale.

Dust freezes before he quickly opens the picture book and starts reading.

It is like a childrens tale. A fairytale.

A young powerful woman by the name of Nim. The keeper of emotions who spreads them across the multiverse. Who prefers her privacy. Positive and negative send out as equals and spread where there is a need.

A man. A mortal. Bold and brass. Greedy for things not his. Goes to her and demands a power he has no right to. A fight happens and Nim wins. But the cost is high.

She has been hurt. Hurt by the mortal who she had to kill. The mortal who forced her to bloody her hands. Make her guilty of a crime she never wanted to commit. With her last power she tries to create a way to continue. A way to exist. Before her, two spirts appear.

One is a golden light made of hope and dreams. positivity shines out as the spirit seems happy already. Nim smiles at them and names them Dream. As the little spirit already seems to be a dreamer and a being of hope. A name fitting for the small spirit.

A second spirit, she hadn't expected, takes form moments after the first and Nim pauses. She ends up naming this one Nightmare, only because they seem to be the oposite of Dream in ever way with their dimmer light and purple colour.

Dust stops and frowns "Wow lady. Talk about clear favouritism with your children." Dust frowns as he traces the picture of two small balls of light in the hands of the woman, Nim.

He shakes his skull and continues reading. For how old the book looks it isn't that long.

Nim felt her time nearing its end and searches the multiverse for a vessel to fit her children. Something that can withstand their magic and beings.

Many failures as he desperation hightens and hightens. Until she comes across a skeleton who just shines out with briliant positivity. She doesn't think and uses the last of her powers to recreate that form for her children.

Nim becomes one with her tree as her children begin to move their new bodies. Young and new to the world. Only been made days before. But they have one another and the tree.

Dust glares "Are you kidding me? You give them just... bodies which clearly only fit one of your sons?! What the hell lady?" Dust takes a deep breath before continuing to read. Why doesn't the multiverse know this? Most of their stories are known across it by now.

Neither Dream nor Nightmare know what to do. Both are young and only just been born. Luckily their mother is still with them to guide them. She warns them away from mortals and tells her children it is now their duty to protect her and her tree. But most important the apples that grow from it.

The golden and purple apples. The golden apples will cure any illness and body harm. While the purple apples will heal any magical illness and mental harm.

Nim tells them again and these apples can not be given away as they also hold the key to keeping the multiverse in balance concerning positivity and negativity. That Dream can only touch and pick the golden apples and Nightmare can only touch and pick the purple ones.

But that they should never eat one. Never.

Both the children look up at their mother before nodding. They promise they will do their job and duty and protect her and her apples.

Dust huffs "Wow. Child labor now lady? You are so getting the mother of the year award." he continues reading.

Time passes as Dream and Nightmare stay with the tree. The live and sleep under it and relax near it. That is until the settlers come and people make a village nearby. Nim reminds them again that mortals are not to be trusted.

Dream however wishes to meet them. See who they are and make friends. Nightmare tries to convince his twin to stay near the tree. They job is to guard it and make sure no one tries to take the apples. Dream reassures Nightmare that he can do that by himself before going down to the village.

The villagers are quick to adore Dream. It is no surprise after all. Dream radiates an aura that makes those around him happy and he is happy to help. He goes to the village daily to help around and make friends.

Nightmare however is more distrustful. He remains near the tree and makes sure no one tries to take from it. The villagers are unhappy wiht him. How dare he keep the treasures of the tree to himself. He tries to explain he can't give them the apples but the villagers are quick to leave.

Dream reinforces the rule that no one can be given an apple and the villagers seem to accept this easier.

It continues on. The village keeps expanding quickly and Nightmare shares his worry that they will eventually hurt their tree and mother. Dream nods and promises his brother he will talk with the villagers.

The villagers do not stop expanding but instead gift Dream a large cape with his symbol of the sun on it. To wrap around the tree to reinforce it is special and no one is allowed to cut it.

Nightmare and Dream happily work together to secure it around the tree.

As Dream grows more and more loved by all those around him Nightmare grows more distrusted and shunned. The villagers agree him to be a bad omen and if something bad happens it must be his fault. After all, Dream is the one who helps them and makes them happy. That must mean that Nightmare is the source of what is bad.

Nightmare tries to explain this isn't the case but no one listens. He tries to explain to Dream what the villagers say but Dream just tells him to spend more time with them and get to know them.

Words change into actions. But Nightmare stays quiet. It is no use. And he doesn't wish to make his brother sad.

Wounds and broken bones are eaisly hidden by long sleeves and excuses are easy to make up. Nightmare doens't like lying but no one beleives his truths anyway. His mother reminds him that mortals are not to be trusted but try to keep Dream happy.

It all comes down to one faithful day. Nightmare begs his brother to stay with the tree but Dream had been promised a nice cup of tea from one of his friends.

Dream promises Nightmare he will return quickly after the tea.

Dream drinks it and feels sleepy soon after.

As Dream rests the villagers band together to take what they are owned. After all. They have lived her for so long and that terrible Nightmare refused to share the apples and forbid Dream from sharing them as well.

Nightmare sees them coming and reminds them again. He isn't allowed to give them the apples. As he had reminded them for the last six years of his short life-

"Six?!" Dust stares at the word. Soul beating fast. Six. They had been six. Nightmare had been six! Those... those disgusting creatures saw a babybones. a six year old and younger before that. and decided he was a horrible creature?

Dust has to take deep breaths to calm his racing soul and thundering magic. It is no use. Contain it for now. Read. Learn. Plan. Then act.

Dust quickly finds the spot where he had left off.

As he had reminded them for the last six years of his short life. He isn't allowed to share the golden apples. He can give them a purple apple-

But as soon as he offers the villagers grow more angry. How dare he try and hurt them with those harmful apples?! The apples that no doubt will cause harm and poison them!?

Nightmare was confused and unsure what to say. None of the apples cause harm. They all have ways to help someone in their own way. They just also help the multiverse as a whole. Nightmare steels his nerves and hides his fear as he repeats what he alwyas said 'I can't pick the golden apples for you. I am not allowed. Please leave.' after which he turns and returns towards the tree.

This is when a village grabs their chance. They grab a large rock and bring it down on Nightmare's skull.

It caves nad Nightmare falls down. His head hurts and he can't seen. His soul cries out for his twin. Brother. Brother where are you? Why aren't you back. You promised. You promised me.

Nightmare watches as the villagers near the tree. His mother asking and begging him to help her. That the villagers are killing her and that Nightmare needs to do something to defend her.

Nightmare doens't know what to do. he is afraid. He will die. an apple falls near him. a golden one. and in desperation he grabs it.

The golden apple's colour changes from the beautiful gold to a sickly black. it drips and shimmers. it smells sour and feels wrong. But Nightmare is afraid. He doesn't want to die. and selfishly. Eats the apple.

Dust glares "Selfish?! Selfish?!" he seethes as he looks away from the words and back to the drawing. It looks like a pencil drawing and Dust feels slightly ill. because most of his skull is done in the drawing. the crown broken and dented next to him as the rock caused most of the tiny skull to break. his whole right side is done until just above the mouth. the broken broken edge continues right over the nose bridge and just barely misses the left socket before going all the way around.

The top of his skull had been gone.

Those... They... a six year old. a babybones.

Dust's sockets find the next line and continues on.

Once he starts to eat he can't stop. As Nightmare's own negative emotions and being had infected the pure positivity that the apples were made of. As Nightmare ate the apple all of his own negative emotions came back to him. all the pain he had felt. all the anger, sadness, loneliness and betrayal. All of it came to him and it covered him.

Selfishly, Nightmare felt safe for the first time in a while. uncaring that the very thing protecting him. Would become the undoing of everyone.

Instead of just acceptance Nightmare chose the path of destruction. Once he ate one apple he could not stop himself. He ate and ate and ate.

This is when Dream wakes up. To screams on the couch of his dear friend. He looks outside and sees the tree on fire. He rushes outside and runs towards their hill. towards his brother and mother.

Only to see the damage his brother had caused-

"Are you kidding me?!" Dust glares "It wasn't his fucking fault! Why!? How!? Why faulting him when all he did was try to finally protect himself?! To finally fight back against the abuse?! To... to... fight... the fate this stupid multiverse gave him and... and..."

To... break out of his prison... to escape...

No wonder Nightmare grabbed all of them... No wonder he freed them... and what did they do? They left him alone when he needed help.

Dust shakes and ignores the fact his own view is getting misty.

Only to see the damage his brother had caused. Dream has shocked. He had always defended his brother when the villages were rude about him. Always said that his brother was jsut shy and needed patience. only for his brother to do the very thing the villagers had said he would. That Nightmare would destroy them all.

Dream stood frozen at the edge of the field. The hill covered in the dead and blooding bodies by the cut down form of his dying mother. Dream couldn't hear any words in their mother's panicked and pained screaming.

He runs forwards and reaches for her. A hand touches his shoulder and Dream turns only to be meet with a horrifying image of a black melting creature. In his panic he strikes out and hits the being in the face.

The creature takes a few steps back before raises a hand to touch the spot where he had been hit. Dream looks up afraid before his soul gives a panicked pulse. Finally seeing just who it was and who he accidentally hit in his panic.

Dust huffs "Oh yeah. excuse all of his actions because he is afraid yet punish Nightmare for it. Real good story telling there narator."

Nightmare, now corrupted, pauses before turning back to the tree that had been cut down, their dying mother. And pulls off another apple before he eats it as he stares at his brother 'Well look at that. The betrayer finally showed up. Had enough of leaving your brother to deal with everything alone? With the pain on his own? Wanted to hurt him yourself I see.'

Dream shakes as he holds out a hand 'Nightmare. Nightmare please. stop this. this isn't you.'

Nightmare tilts his skull at his brother. negativity dripping of his form. No longer hurting from physical wounds. all that burns through him is rage. Dream had left him. Dream had never been there for him. Ngihtmare smirks. 'You finally decided to see what your brother is doing? What is wrong? Wanted to make sure your dear friends had time to hurt him first? As always? Because he deserved it?'

Dream shakes 'I don't understand... why...' something hits his foot. Dream looks down and sees another apple. another golden apple. He reaches for it and picks it up. Unlike with Nightmare it doesn't get corrupted. Dream's being is perfect for the positivity and the healing it provides.

Nightmare eyes the apple before looking at Dream 'Give me that.'

Dream shakes his skull and hugs the apply close. Only for his soul to absorb the positivity. Nightmare glares but ends up laughing loudly. Dream takes a few steps back but Nightmare just smirks 'Fitting. Even when your own brother is dying you will defend those stupid villagers first.'

Dream shakes as the apple is now part of him and part of his soul 'Dying? Nighty... please i don't understand.'

Nightmare doesn't react as he turns towards the village, where more ligths are on 'That is because you never listened.' and Nightmare left towards the village. To hurt those.

Dream tried to follow but the negativity around him made him weak. The negativity his brother caused and powered made him lose his powers. With shock he realised that he was turning to stone. Dream tried to reach for his brother. To call for him.

But nobody came.

It isn't until many many years later that Dream breaks free of his stone prison. One of his old villagers friends helps him out fo the stone and tells him all abuot how Nightmare had destroyed everything in a fit of jealous rage.

Dream shakes and says it must be something else. that Ngihty would never. He begs that it must have been the apple. That eating the apple corrupted him. That the corruption must have destroyed him and taken over and done all those terrible things.

His friend asks him what he plans to do now.

Dream thinks before deciding that he will find a way to fix the corruption. the cure Nightmare and fix all the wrongdoings he has done.

The years that follow Dream grows into a formiddable warrior of light and hope. Someone who holds the care for everyone in his soul and meant to battle the darkness. Dream promises himself that he will save his brother from the corruption and makes sure everyone has their chance for a happy future.

The end

Dust stares at it. What about the balance? What about the fact that Nim clearly set one up for success and the other for failure.

What about the fact that Nightmare had been six and had been abused for years on end until that tiny six your old broke under the pressure.

That that same corruption everyone feared was the one thing keeping him safe and giving him power?

Dust stares at the pages for a long time. Things starting to shift around in his mind as a clearer picture starts to form.

"Dusty? Are you here? Found anything?"

Dust traces the crown and feels a small dent and finds the fixed cracks.

All this time he had been working on the balance and trying to right his own wrongs. That had never been wrongs, at least not in Dust's opinion. The wrongs a desperate child made o finally feel safe.

And the very multiverse and fate decided to punish him for it.

Dust's grip tightens on the crown. And they had abandoned him. As soon as his powers started to leave. No doubt the magic of the apples reaching their limits. As soon as Nightmare started to return to his original form. They abandoned him.

Nightmare is somewhere in the multiverse. As the original version of himself. the version he was before he ate the apples. six years old and probably hurt.

Woudl he even have his memories?

"Dust?"

Dust looks up from the book and sees three familiar faces in the doorway. Cross frowns as he takes a few steps closer "You are... crying."

Dust doens't bother to fix it as he feels the book "Nightmare... Nightmare was never an adult."

Shock as Killer is suddenly by his side "Waht the fuck do you mean?"

Dust just hands both the book and crown over as he speaks "He was suposed to be six." he nods at the book "See that name? Notice any specific pattern?"

Killer stares "Dreamtale-" he stops and stares at them as he points from person to person "Dusttale, Dust. Horrortale, Horror. X-tale, Cross." Killer stops and stares down "Dreamtale..."

Dust nods "I don't think... I don't think Nightmare was ever originally meant to leave his story."

Killer opens the book and starts reading. Dust sees Horror and Cross join him as well. That is okay. Dust needs a moment.

They are going to have to find him before Nightmare finishes referting back to his real age. Dust does not want to know if those wounds that he had had would remain.

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