#and they spend most of the time explaining what they do

[pellucid-constellations]

If It All Fell (8)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: Angst, pining, injury

a/n: I appreciate thoughts and reactions more than you know!!! <333 Italics indicate flashbacks.

Series Masterlist (all parts ♡)

~~

The next two weeks were interesting. 

In the first few days after the accident—the ones filled with confusion and incorrect suspicions—you had spent most of your time alone or sleeping. Mor visited your bedroom every morning to share limited information about your past, but there was no routine beyond that. Everyone tiptoed around you, too afraid to set off the timebomb they assumed was your mind.

But Helion had disputed that assumption. 

You were allowed to know who you were, to become the person you had been. 

So, a routine began to form. 

Breakfast early in the morning, usually with a random assortment of the inner circle. Mor was always present, keeping up with her responsibility of telling you about yourself. Cassian joined more often than not—an early riser, he deemed himself. Azriel made it when he could. He was always busy in the morning. Doing… something, everyone told you.

Rhysand would join you after the meal, whisking you away for an hour or two to work on the powers you still could not call upon. He would have a different objective in mind every day and it was your job to parse out what it was. 

You failed. 

Obviously. 

He started bringing in random Velaris citizens instead, but you still felt nothing. It was nice to see the smiling strangers; they were all kind to you, all apparently knowing who you were. The vagueness surrounding them leveled the playing field more. They didn’t know your whole life story and you weren’t supposed to know theirs. 

“You’ve explained it to me before,” Rhysand had said. “It’s a vibration, sometimes a light or a color. You see it around them, feel it. You understand a deep part within them that they don’t even know they’re revealing.” 

Well, there was never any light or vibration or color. You could never tell that the fae were lying or that Rhysand was planning something big for his anniversary with his mate. None of this otherworldly intuition that the Night Court seemed to value so highly. It was all just stagnant. 

After spending some time failing with Rhys, you got to explore Velaris. You had insisted that you didn’t need a chaperone, and your family believed you—for a time. You had three whole days of walking around the city alone before that privilege was revoked.

Granted, it was your fault that it was revoked, but that was neither here nor there. 

It hadn’t been your plan to get lost, just as it hadn’t been your plan to get caught up in a street brawl over a cart of potatoes. But when you weren’t at the designated meeting spot for Cassian to bring you back up the house, and when he found you with a bleeding nose an hour later, what you meant to do didn’t matter. 

“Y/n?” you heard a voice shout, heavy footsteps shaking the ground beneath you. “Shit—y/n, look at me, you okay?” 

Warm hands enveloped your shaking ones, drawing them back and catching sight of the red staining your fingerprints. It was Cassian, you realized, with his broad wings cloaking you in their shadow. The General’s expression hardened when he took in your face.

“What happened?” he asked, voice low, comfort combatting fury. “Where have you been? We have about 10 people looking for you, sweetheart.” 

You grimaced—both at the pain in your nose and the notion of your family scouring the streets of Velaris. “I’m so, so sorry, Cassian. I got turned around and then I was in this alley and there was a boy—” 

“Hey!” Defeat washed through you at the sound of another voice in the alley, all hopes for a peaceful return home washed away. “Is your girlfriend over there gonna pay for the product I lost?” 

The Illyrian before you paused, body going still at the accusatory tone. Cassian’s jaw clenched and he turned, keeping you well behind him. You still caught a glimpse of the scene from between his legs, and the merchant—to his credit—had the mind to stop his taunting. 

And to look afraid. 

Really, truly afraid. 

“You did this to her?” Cassian growled, fists clenching at his sides. 

The merchant swallowed. “You’re—and she’s…” 

“Did you. Do this. To her?” Cassian asked again, words broken up by malice. 

A beat of pressing silence, only whispers of the street meeting your ears. The merchant took several, shaky steps back, but the movement damned him. His hands swayed with his backtracking feet, and red glistened on his knuckles. 

Cassian’s wings flared at the sight. It only took a small uptick of his brow for the smaller man to fall to the floor in a plea. 

“Please, please don’t kill me! I didn’t know who she was. Don’t turn me over to the Shadowsinger, I won’t make it! I have a family to care for—a wife! I was only trying to protect my crops and she butted in. I didn’t want to hurt her!”

The General hooked his chin over his shoulder and sent you a questioning gaze, one you were sheepish to answer. With a harrowing breath, you revealed, “There was a little boy stealing potatoes. He was going to hit him. I stepped in the way.” 

A tug at your chest had you gasping as Cassian turned back around. The feeling had been persistent the moment you got lost, increasing after you’d been implicated in the merchant’s conflict. It pulled and pulled, a desperate winding around your ribs that you didn’t know how to relieve. 

It had to have been fear. Or stress. 

Cassian eyed the man crumpled to the floor. “Is the boy okay?” he asked, the question meant for you but directed across the alley. 

“Yes,” you confirmed, pressing your hand to the blood running down your chin. “He ran away.” 

Cassian grunted, sent a harsh warning to the man, and then crouched back down to your place on the ground, shaking his head in frustration. “Let’s get you home.” And then he grumbled, “I might get my ass kicked but…” 

Cassian had not gotten his ass kicked when you got home, but many other things happened. Mor just about cried in relief, her arms thrown around your neck followed by a string of commands to never do such a thing again. Rhys rubbed at his jaw as tension lifted from the House. He also had a command—that you wouldn’t be traveling alone anymore. 

And Azriel… Azriel looked like he would vomit, his shadows flitting angrily around him before bridging a path to you. He had cleaned the blood from your face, eyes haunted by misplaced grief, and pure guilt replaced all else in your myriad of emotions. 

You agreed an escort would be better. 

Azriel volunteered. Every day. 

And so you got to know Azriel. 

Mor had described him as reserved, not one to offer the intimacy of touch or personal information so readily. That was not your experience with the Shadowsinger. 

Fleeting touches had become commonplace between the two of you, whether it was his hands or his wings or the brush of his thigh as you sat by the Sidra. You weren’t sure if he was doing it consciously, but you welcomed the familiarity. You found he did it most when he wasn’t paying attention—when he was deep into a story about your past or listening to your opinions intently. 

He was open, sharing pieces of himself you didn’t have to pry to receive. He told you about his mother, about his scars, about how he overcame them. He shared with you how important you were to him many, many times, slipping it into conversations so causally. A thread connected the pieces of his life, and you, it appeared, made up the spool. 

He did not speak of his mate, despite being prompted. 

A sadness came over him at any mention of her, one so achingly melancholy that you told yourself you wouldn’t ask again. 

He loved her deeply, but something had happened there.

You tried not to get too close. This was friendship, a deep familial love that he relied on. That you seemed to have relied on for so many years.

And Azriel was hurt. Even if he and his mate were no longer intertwined by their bond, he didn’t need the onslaught of emotions his amnesiac friend was suddenly overcome with. 

Because you were—overcome by emotions for him. 

It was wrong. 

You wished you had the context to separate those feelings. If you understood your history—if you had memories beyond the few weeks of sweet stories and brushes of his fingers along your hair—maybe you wouldn't be feeling this way. Maybe your heart wouldn’t beat painfully against your ribs each time he entered the room… each time his eyes met yours as if he could feel your admiration for him within his own chest. 

You wouldn’t be feeling this way, surely. Because no one had told you that you should be. 

You only had the recounts of your friends, and the three of them had made no insinuations about you and Azriel. 

You wished you could meet the rest of the inner circle. 

There had been plans to, but then you came home with blood on your face and a disorientation in your eyes and that was suddenly off the table. 

After your time exploring Velaris, you read. 

Mor would pile your favorite books beside you in the small reading room you had come to love and rave about how great of an opportunity this was for you.

“You would kill to be able to read these for the first time again,” she’d laugh. “So have at it!” 

Reading felt easy. 

Books did not pressure you to remember things you weren’t able to. 

You could see it all in their eyes, the way your family clung to each of your words for even a hint of reminiscence. They’d make a joke and hold their breath, desperate for the laugh that should be bubbling out of you. But you never got it, never making the connections that they did. 

Azriel was the only one who’d catch the shame you felt at your lack of deliverance. Although he was the one with the most torture in his expression, he was also the one with the most understanding. He’d lean his head down and whisper what you needed to know in your ear, and then you’d giggle—for show—and hope would return to the room. 

But nothing had returned to you. 

You were still a shell.

~~

“What do you think?” 

Cassian’s question blanketed the table, forks halting their movements atop plates. Breakfast had just begun and you were dressed for a morning in Velaris at the theater, this time with Cassian. 

“Are you sure that’s the best idea?” Mor questioned, eyeing the General beneath a raised brow. 

“Were you there last week when I brought her home all bloody? I think it’s a great idea. Rhys agrees.” 

“And Az?” 

Cassian continued his breakfast, reaching for his drink. “Cassian—”

And so you found yourself steps away from the roof of the House of Wind—no longer in the comfortable daywear you’d been sporting—squinting into the morning sun. Leathers fitted for your body were laced up at your back and waist, stretching with a groan as you reached up to block the light from your eyes. Although the pain in your head had subsided to practically nonexistence, it often flared up in brightness or in times of stress. 

Like when you stood atop a mountain and stared into the sun. Or got punched in the nose by a potato merchant. 

“This is where I go while you go galavanting around the city,” Cassian chimed in, a grin evident in his words. 

“Charming,” you muttered, still adjusting to the jarring assault of the sun.

The sound of grunts and clashing metal oriented you quicker, and as your eyesight settled you were met with the image of Azriel. He was bare-chested, leathers donning his legs as he pressed further and further forward, the knife you always saw at his hips hacking away at the metal dummy before him. 

He moved so quickly that it was difficult to track him, one swipe after another, so carefully skilled and practiced. Sweat beaded down his tattooed skin. His wings rippled and spread in time with his footwork. 

He was mesmerizing, a force of nature only halting as his shadows wound around his ear, whispering. Azriel whipped around, sheathing his knife at his side and staring out beyond the training ring with a narrowed gaze. He spotted you instantly, without looking near or around—a magnetic force. 

Until he wasn’t looking at you, instead glowering in Cassian’s direction. “What are you doing, brother?” he bit out. The back of his hand made a quick pass along his forehead. 

Cassian didn’t look the slightest bit sheepish, ushering you to the outskirts of the ring. “She’s going to train. Now that we know she won’t break at the slightest thing.” 

Hazel eyes slid back to you, a softness overcoming them as you quickly averted your gaze from the broadness of his chest. You were not ogling him. 

You bit into your cheek to stave off the embarrassment. 

“I thought we agreed—” 

“Az, come on. It’s been a couple of weeks now. We need to get her back in the swing of things.” 

A crack of defeat edged its way onto the Shadowsinger’s face. 

What had they agreed on? To wait it out? To treat you like glass until you were their version of yourself again? Something ugly licked up into your chest, something raw. 

For a moment—just one—you stood on the sidelines and felt pathetic. While the two Illyrians stared at each other, a silent conversation between eyes, you let yourself feel like an outsider. They had had discussions about you, but not really about you. About the you that they loved—the one with memories and reciprocation. 

“Will you be careful?” Azriel’s even voice snapped you out of the spiral you had initiated. His expression was uneasy, a hand pressed to his chest. “And tell us if you need to stop? If your head—” 

“My head has been completely fine for a while now,” you assured, hands coming up to grasp the rungs of the training ring. “Promise.” 

Azriel pressed his lips into a line but motioned you in with a nod of his head. 

Despite the conflict still raging within your mind, you smiled at Cassian, the two of you letting out a small cheer and high-fiving before the General lifted you by your hips and past the rungs. You regained your footing and stood before the spymaster, meeting his level gaze with your own. 

“Alright, sweetheart,” Cassian began, a loud clap resonating behind you. “Muscle memory is going to play a big role here, but I don’t want to risk you getting hurt, so you’re just with this guy for now.” He patted the shoulder of the dummy Azriel had been practicing with. 

You scoffed, dropping your hands to hang by your thighs. “What? I still have the same muscle tone from before and last I checked my face was beaten in by a real person, not a chunk of metal.” 

“And that will not happen again,” Azriel cut it. “Ever. But especially not when you’re… in this state.”

You ignored the unsettling remark. “Okay, well I think sparring one of you would be more effective in the prevention of that, don’t you?” 

“Cassian and I could hurt you.” 

“You wouldn’t.” 

“We can’t guarantee—” 

“I trust you,” you interrupted, your view of Azriel partially obstructed by the shadows that wound up your body. “I know you wouldn’t hurt me. Let me do this, Az.” 

The male before you faltered, his eyes darting quickly between yours. His chest, gleaming in the sunlight, rose and fell with strenuous effort. A clench of his jaw. Another pass of silence. 

“Okay,” he nodded, gaze roving over your features. “Okay, y/n. Get warmed up and we can spar.” 

You warmed up with Cassian, stretching and relishing in the feel of your body moving. He went over a few basic maneuvers with you, and you tried your hardest to pay close attention to how his feet slid around the ring. 

It was a rather hard task, seeing as Azriel had continued his blade work on the dummy. Still shirtless. 

After the General was satisfied with your progress, he passed you off to his brother. The Shadowsinger’s posture had softened a hair from when you first entered the ring, his wings coiled back and his shadows creating uneven shapes along the floor. He kept his hands by his sides, his feet relaxed—not a fighting stance in the slightest. 

“Come on,” you teased, cocking your head to the side. “You have to at least try, Az.” 

“I did not spar with you often before your memories were lost,” he admitted. “I do not enjoy the thought of hurting you.” 

Guilt immediately flooded you. You hadn’t even thought about what this would be like for him, too caught up in your own strife. Your stance dropped, the fists at your chin loosening and falling. 

“Oh, Azriel, I’m sorry. I can have Cassian—” 

“No.” He dragged his left foot back. A ghost of a fighting position. “Only me.” 

You took a painful breath in. 

He didn’t move, allowing you to lead. 

You shook your hands out and then your body moved of its own accord. 

You swiped at his legs first, unsurprised when he leaped back with practiced grace. The two of you fell into a dance of drawn arms and calculated shifts and you were almost unnerved by how your body moved without you willing it to. 

Cassian had said that muscle memory would play a role. 

It seemed to be the only thing driving you.  

You went for his knees, but in a way that maneuvered past his wings. 

You used his shadows as cover, taking advantage of their familiarity with you and cloaking yourself in their mist. 

Azriel swung a halfhearted punch at your shoulder and you bypassed the motion, grabbing his wrist and twisting at his back. 

It felt right. Your actions were not your own but they were ingrained in your being. 

This was your body. 

Something that remained unchanged. 

In your newfound joy, you missed the open palm Azriel carefully directed at your chest. The impact caught you off guard, stealing your breath from your lungs as you were pushed to the ground. As your back hit the floor, another shocking burst of air was ripped from you. 

You laid frozen for a moment before a shadow cast over your body, the sun no longer beating down on your skin. Through the ringing in your ears, Azriel’s voice flowed through. 

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have—y/n, take a breath.” A scarred hand rubbed along your clavicle. “Breathe. You’re okay. Breathe.” 

A startling gasp of oxygen entered your lungs. You were fine, completely unharmed, only shocked and disoriented. Azriel bowed his head as you continued to circulate the air into your body, and it was then that you saw it. 

A chain hung between you, dangling from his neck and brushing against your chin. It swayed back and forth, a grounding point as you blinked back the tears lining your eyes. The ring glinted in the sun, rubbing against the golden chain, looking as if it did not belong there. 

Azriel tracked your gaze as he raised his head, looking down at the object of your attention. He sat back on his ankles and the diamond followed him, resting close to his chest. 

You raised yourself to your elbows. “Who’s—” You coughed. Azriel winced. “Is that yours?”  

A stupid question, but you couldn’t stop yourself from asking. A guarded look passed over the Shadowsinger’s face and you regretted it instantly. He reached up and clutched the necklace in a closed fist.  

“No,” he responded. “Are you okay?” 

He didn’t release the ring. 

“I’m okay,” you confirmed. “I’m not hurt. It just knocked the wind out of me.” 

Azriel nodded. A grim line formed between his brows. 

“Hey! She alright?” Cassian called. He had moved clear across the roof when you began to spar with Azriel, mentioning something about inventory or knives or something you hadn’t paid attention to. You had been too focused on the warmth you felt from being so close to Azriel’s skin. 

The sound of Cassian’s voice did nothing to break the hold Azriel’s eyes had on you. 

Another beat of silence passed. 

The wind blew a strand of his hair across his forehead. 

“I—” 

“I have a mission. I was supposed to meet with Rhys before midday.” He spoke the words apologetically but his hand shook when it lowered to his knee. 

The sun was already past the high point in the sky. It was no longer midday. 

“Okay,” you whispered. “I want to thank you for—” 

“Don’t thank me. Please, just—Be careful. I have to go.” 

A quiet collection of parting words fell from your lips and Aziel twitched, looking as if he would move forward but thinking better of it. 

But you had thoughts too, and they worked against Azriel’s

You raised to your knees and brushed the hair on his forehead back, a small smile gracing your face, trying so hard to melt some of the tension that had grown between you. Azriel’s breath caught as you moved, but you only doubled down, softly dragging your nails along his scalp. 

He shuddered, eyes falling shut for a brief, unguarded moment. 

His shadows consumed him. 

Azriel was gone. 

[ghostlyferrettarot]

♥︎Pick a picture:💎✨️Everything about your next partner✨️💎

•Pile 1 •Pile 2 •Pile 3

❗️This is a collective reading, take what resonates and leave the rest❗️

✨️Paid Services ✨️ (Natal charts and tarot readings) Open!

💫If you like my work you can support me through Ko-fi. Thank you!💫

💎Masterlist💎

💎Pile 1: 10 of Cups, Ace of Wands and Ace of Cups.

Hi pile 1! Your next partner is someone fun and reliable, I sense a lot of air signs energy from them, they know how to be serious but also fun! I see someone taller than you and with curly hair; i keep hearing people laughing so he probably has a really good sense of humor.

You two will bond over similar interest and also humor, i see them making you laugh a lot which is really cute. This person is really focus when it comes to their job/career, and you may meet them in a work/academic environment; they are really smart when it comes to what they do and value their time also. This person is someone non judmental when it comes to others, they are on the more out going side and likes to get along with everyone; i see that they are this way because others may have judged them in the past.

Theres a lot of duality in your person, i feel that they have a balanced femenine and masculine energy, they are in touch with their emotions and wont play around when it comes to a romantic connection. They will be really dedicated towards you, a trully loving energy; they want to be the one to be with you in your good and bad days, theres something about sharing memories and spending time with you that they really value and love, i keep hearing "you are the light of my life".

💎Signs: Air signs, glasses, blue, autum and winter season, winter holidays.

🪩Channeled Song:

💎Pile 2: Knight of Wands, The Emperor and 4 of Swords.

Hi pile 2! I see that this person is someone who is not the relationship type, they are more focused on other aspects of their life, but you will change this for them! They have a fast energy, always setting new goals in their lifes. Because of this, they probably have the romantic aspect of their life quiet down; but when they meet you is like an instant spark for them. They will try to approach you and get to know you, their energy is dominant. Dark hair is really prominent, as well as longish hair and jewerly, i also see tattos on the hands and arms.

I feel like when both of you meet will be like a divine scenario, like it was meant to be, maybe you also resonate to be more focused on other aspects of you life instead of the romantic one. I don't know how to explain but this trully feels like a divine meeting, everything fell into place in order for you to meet, i heard "we almost missed eachother". I also see a rainy scenario so maybe the day you meet is on a rainy day.

Both of you will grow together, it will be a serious connection and you will feel really secure with them, maybe even doing long terms changes with them like moving or adopting a pet. You bring another side of them, the most loving and caring one; i'm hearing that you are their one and only, is like you could get anything out of them with just a look from your pretty eyes (their words pile 2🥹).

I trully see this as a long lasting connection; also this person family/friends will really love the relationship, it feels like you bring out the more fun side of them, you ground them somehow.

💎Signs: Earth signs, dark colors, mid lenght hair, cats, piercings.

🪩Channelled Song:

💎Pile 3: 4 of Wands, Ace of Swords and The Fool.

Hi pile 3! I feel like this will be a ying and yang type of connection. You two may be seem really different but are actually more alike that what others thinks. This will be a very healing relationship, if you have had bad romantic experiences in the past, this person is coming to help you heal and evolve together. I keep hearing "Ill be you safe space", which is really beautiful; you will feel really comfortable with them. I see someone with brownish hair, they may have dimples and a really pretty smile.

This persons energy is a really kind and soft one, they may be the type of person who always seems relax and tries to see the positive side of life; maybe they do charity work or its involved in a career that requieres to connect/be in touch with a lot of people.

I see that you two will travel a lot together and would potentially build a home too; i feel that non of you will rush into the relationship, both will build a solid friendship and then will start developing a romantic connection, trully taking your time to get to know eachother. I am getting a Colin and Penelope from Britgerton type of vibe. I see that both of you will enjoy spending time together around the house, watching movies or cooking, so if you are a home buddy type of person, your person is too! I see cute dates in the park, but specially long conversations and bonding, i feel like you would be eachothers favorite person.

💎Signs: Earth/ Water placements, Green, Spring season, City, Brown hair, green eyes.

🪩Channeled Song:

💎Thanks for reading and tell

me if it resonated💎

[dante-mightdie]

When it was time for the reader cow to give birth, do you think the tf141 bulls would let Laswell take her to a separate place or would they want her to give birth there with them in the stable?

honestly I was thinking about this all day yesterday and there’s a few options so I don’t know which one I like the most

c/w: hybrids, pregnancy, childbirth

option one is that the boys refuse to be away from you during this, they’ll trash the barn if they aren’t able to know what’s happening to you and their calves during every second of your labour :( they spend it soothing you with kisses and soft praises, warm hands rubbing your belly in an attempt to relax you

option two is that laswell puts you back in with the other cowgirls when you give birth, explaining that the boys will be too excitable and rowdy. your girls will stroke your hair and pat your sweaty forehead with a damp cloth, make you feel so safe and supported whilst you give birth

option three leans a bit more towards how actual cows give birth. interference with the birth can affect success rate so laswell will put you in a separate barn, make it as cozy as possible for you during the night and come back in the morning to find sleepy you, feeding your newborn calves :(

[girlokwhatever]

can you do paige being jelly of you and kks rls (you and kk are just friends but paige claims “yall r too close”)

⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡.｡.:*✧ focus on me,,

paige bueckers x fem!reader

2 WEEKS AGO:

paige was just getting back from personal training, walking through the team’s dorm door and letting her shoes slide off her feet. she didn’t see anyone, but she heard the sound of kk’s screaming laughter. paige figured she needed to relax a bit, so she went to drop her bags off in her room and then go see what kk was up to.

as she walked closer to her teammates door, she heard the sweet sound of your voice. in any other situation it would’ve soothed paige, but here—coming from kk’s room, it didn’t.

your girlfriend pushed the door open gently, a light frown on her face upon observing you and kk. the two of you were laying on kk’s bed, phone screen in front of you both.

“hey guys.” your giggles ceased and your head turned, only to be greeted with paige’s unamused expression.

“oh! hi baby,”

“i thought you said you were working today?” you’re sitting straight now, looking up at paige from your position next to kk. your friend stays silent, pushing her hand over the phone’s microphone to muffle your conversation. she could sense the tension coming from paige and wasn’t really sure where this was going.

“they let me off early, really slow day.” you explain to your girlfriend, slightly shocked at the way she’s acting. you didn’t think on it too much though, assuming she was just fatigued.

“why didn’t you tell me?”

“you were busy paige.”

it aggravates paige that you didn’t tell her, instead opting to spend your rare free time with kk. and paige wouldn’t say it out loud, but she was also jealous that you and kk went live without her. everyone said that the three of you were a trio.

“you guys went live without me?”

“it’s not a big deal, babe. we do all the time.”

6 DAYS AGO:

the team was on a ‘recreational team bonding field trip’ and everyone insisted you join, especially kk. you and the freshman had grown quite fond of each other, feeding off the other’s energy and enthusiasm. you were definitely the lives of the party.

you had been spending a lot of time with kk actually, which was starting to get to paige. she’d suggest a fun activity for the two of you to do, and you were always saying “kk should come too!”

paige really enjoyed having you here today, loving and admiring the way you fit in so perfectly with all her friends. even on the way here you were cracking jokes and making everyone laugh. she was thankful to have you, grateful for how receptive everyone is to having you around.

everyone had been hiking up the mountain for about an hour and a half, finally making it to the top. you rejoiced, high-fiving everyone around you. you motivated everyone undoubtedly. it made paige want to kiss you and she was about to— until kk jogged up to the two of you and pulled you away.

it was time to take the zip line down to the bottom of the mountain, something everyone was excited about (really their only good reason to come). everyone needed to pick a partner and paige didn’t even think twice about knowing you were hers. you were her girlfriend for christsake, she didn’t need to call dibs on you.

apparently she did though, cause kk claimed you as her partner instead. what upset paige the most was that you didn’t even say no. never saying “i want to be paige’s partner.”

that’s how paige ended up with nika, the two of them going last.

“if looks could kill..”

“what?” nika’s words drew paige out of her daydream, grounding her back in this moment she wishes wasn’t even happening.

“i saw the look you gave kk. why didn’t you say something?”

it was a good question really. why didn’t she?

suddenly paige remembers your and kk’s shared screams of joy going down the zip line. she remembers the way kk interlocked your hands and threw them up in the air like she was on a rollercoaster. like kk was your girlfriend.

“doesn’t matter. my girlfriend seemed to enjoy herself with another girl.”

“oh paige, don’t be like that. that’s just how kk is.”

when nika and paige made it to the bottom of the zip line it felt like five years had passed. you and kk had been the first to go, and paige had to wait ten minutes for everyone else to be done. upon making it back to ground, paige noticed ashlynn taking a picture of you and kk.

kk’s arm was around your shoulders as she leaned into you, a big stupid grin on her face. you were smiling too, not minding kk’s close proximity.

after being unclipped from the line paige walked towards you, trying to let her frustrations drain away so she could just enjoy the day.

“baby,”

“hold on- what kk?”

2 DAYS AGO:

the team had been back from practice for a few hours now, everyone just relaxing and doing their own thing. paige really wanted to take this reprieve to spend alone time with you, becoming increasingly aware that you hardly ever got a moment to yourselves.

but of course, her plans changed when kk asked to play video games with you at your apartment. you said yes, now sitting on your couch with kk playing COD while paige sulked in another room. you hadn’t realized she was sulking, just thinking she was tired and went to take a nap.

about an hour into playing, your girlfriend came padding out of your bedroom and into the living area. you were too distracted and paige was too childish, quickly unplugging the power cord to the TV without either you or kk noticing.

“NOOOO!”

“WHAT HAPPENED??”

“bro your tv is broken,”

“you probably broke it-“

paige’s voice cut through the air like a knife, bringing both you and kk back into reality. you’re both staring at her wide-eyed with mouths agape.

“well, looks like you gotta go home kk, playing video games there.” paige is fake shrugging like she too is disappointed in the circumstances. you’re squinting and suspecting of her tone but it quickly vanishes.

“TRUE, we can go to the dorms and play girl boo!”

paige’s shoulders shrink, watching as you gather your shoes and keys. her plan backfired on her almost instantly.

“maybe we can just stay here babe? i can help you fix the tv,”

“i’ll fix it later p. you comin?”

CURRENT DAY:

paige was beyond excited. was.

she had gone out of her way to plan a nice dinner for you, trying to cook up something nice. she had even printed out a recipe and followed it step-by-step. she went to the store to get you flowers, bought a new dvd to add to your collection, and even wrote you a little love letter.

you told her you’d be getting off by 5:30. it was now 6:43. she was certain the food was cold and stale by now, not worth eating. she had to blow out the candles she lit at the table because the wax started dripping onto the wooden surface. paige was almost finished with her homemade cocktails she learned how to make just for tonight when you walked through the door. finally.

“hey baby!” you hadn’t looked up yet, kicking off your shoes and shrugging your jacket down your shoulders.

“where’ve you been?”

you finally looked up, letting your surroundings sink in along with the instant guilt. you had no idea she was planning anything.

“i was doing this thing with kk-“

at the mention of her friend’s name again paige aggressively pushed her drink away and stormed off. you stood there dumbfounded for a second before quickly following behind her, having to jog to keep up with her pace.

“paige? what’s wrong?”

“what’s wrong?! i think if you mention kk one more time im going to lose my mind. all you do is hang out with her. like i’m not even here. y’know, i planned this whole night because i wanted to spend quality time with you. but instead of wanting to come home to me, you go to kk?!”

“paige i didn’t know you-“

“and y’know what?! i’m tired of you prioritizing her. i’m your girlfriend. not kk. me! you’re too close with her..” she’s silent for a moment and you let her words linger in the air. “jus want you to focus on me.”

her head is hung low and saying it out loud almost makes her feel selfish. but you understand her, you consider her words and realize she’s right.

you have been spending a lot of time with kk. and in turn, you sacrificed precious time with paige to do so. it crushes you now that you know, and you suddenly wish you could go back and time. a few stray tears roll down your girlfriend’s face, landing on her favorite button up. she picked it for this special occasion. just for you.

you peak your head out to the kitchen, soaking in the decorations and the ghost of paige’s effort to make this night amazing for you. a frown settles deep on your features when you realize you’re ruining this night for her.

“paige, i love you so much. unbelievably so. i’m so sorry, please let me make it up to you while we enjoy the meal you made.” you’re almost pleading with her, wiping her few tears away and cradling her fragility. she nods, a weak smile adorning her face as she looks at you.

the dinner had been amazing and paige swears you told her that about a million different times. she liked it though. your reassurance and affirmations let her know that you cared about her more than anything else.

“i love you paigey.”

“not kk?”

“not kk.”

“good, i love you too”

“wait- you were just jealous-“

“shut up.”

┊┊❁ཻུ۪۪♡ ͎. ｡˚ °. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

YALLLLLLL

idk 😋

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

Happy holidays! By any chance, could I ask for a HC where MC gets into an accidental baby acquisition trope and has to babysit with Azul, Sebek, Malleus, and Riddle?

Azul Ashengrotto:

Azul is about to write a ransom note if this person expects to get their baby back. He’s drawing up the terms of the contract as you’re coddling the baby, knowing there wasn’t a point in trying to talk him out of it as he was already infuriated that he’d had this responsibility dumped on him randomly. He doesn’t get how you can just accept this injustice and you rolled your eyes at him, telling him most people didn’t spend an hour negotiating a deal before performing a task. He still doesn’t want much to do with the baby but unfortunately for him the baby is endlessly fascinated with him; they constantly reach out to grab at his glasses or his hair, and he’s quickly scribbling additions onto the bill in regards to smudges and emotional distress.

He does eventually hold them when you have to retrieve something (the other alternative being they took off into the lounge if he just left them on the ground which he knew would piss you off, and he especially didn’t feel like dealing with that) but he claimed he didn’t enjoy the time. The baby continued to poke and prod at him, with Azul returning the gesture and poking at the baby’s cheeks which only sent them into a fit of giggles. It almost got a smile out of him but he couldn’t take the hit to his pride, huffing and hastily handing the baby back over when you returned.

Malleus Draconia:

Please keep an eye on that baby. Malleus’ only interaction with human babies had been with Silver when he was just a little ball of chub, and with Lilia being his father… Silver was lucky to have survived his childhood but he had always been special. This baby was not Silver however, and while Malleus would never purposely put them in harms way you can see he doesn’t have the same gentleness another human might have with a fragile little baby. He doesn’t mind when you correct him on the proper way to hold them and listened intently as you explained some of the actions to avoid, like pulling at their little limbs or allowing anything to hit their head. He thinks this is an interesting learning experience though he’s not quite sure what he might need to know about taking care of a human baby, but it also made him happy because it meant you were spending time together.

The baby looked up at Malleus with wide eyes at first, having never seen a fae with long horns or a man quite as striking as Malleus Draconia. They quieted down whenever Malleus spoke to them, seeming to like the sound of his voice and babbling back when he stopped talking. Once they were more comfortable with him they couldn’t help but reach up to touch his horns which you carefully monitored, watching as they felt the new texture and making sure they didn’t yank at them (or his hair) too harshly. Malleus commended their curiosity and lack of fear, thinking it was quite refreshing.

Riddle Rosehearts:

You might assume Riddle would try to collar a baby who was crying incessantly or who wouldn’t listen, but he was surprisingly patient. He took offense to that observation as of course you couldn’t force a baby to follow rules, but you could try and that would matter more than anything. He thinks it’s good to introduce kids to rules as early as possible so they can start getting them into their little heads even if they can’t memorize them quite yet; maybe in the future these early lessons would prove fruitful. He’s patient but it doesn’t mean he won’t get frustrated, able to pull all kinds of knowledge out about babies but not knowing how to truly connect with them.

The baby does stop crying each time Riddle began to talk about the rules, and he even pulled out a book to read through to keep them distracted. He thought this was a good activity because it gave them both something to do, and the little one did seem invested in what he was saying even if they didn’t truly understand. He had never been read to like this when he was young and it sent a pang through his heart, wondering if things might have been different if he had a little more wonder in his young life. Either way, he was no longer the baby in this situation and all he could do was hope they were enjoying their time with him while it lasted.

Sebek Zigvolt:

You think there might be a competition going on about who can be louder. Neither one of them even seem to be shouting but the baby responded with the same tone as Sebek, and his speaking voice just had a natural boom to it. While he had wanted to run at first you had begged him to help you, and while that hadn’t done much the baby’s fascination with Sebek’s portrait of Malleus had. You think the interaction is the funniest thing in the world especially when Sebek tried to indoctrinate the baby into the Malleus Draconia club, holding the portrait in his arms while tears gathered in his eyes.

The way he lit up when he talked about Malleus was cute and the baby clapped in response to his rambling, urging him to continue. Sebek wondered if he repeated Malleus’ name enough if the baby might say it. You stated the parents might not appreciate it but Sebek said it was their own fault as they were the ones who suddenly left him with the baby; either way, they should be honored if Malleus’ name was the first word they uttered. The baby has not a single clue what’s going on but thinks the two of you going back and forth is hilarious, collapsing into fits of giggles each time Sebek made a new face at you trying to reign in his Malleus obsession.

[queenshelby]

Sweet Possession (Part 5)

Pairing: Very Dark! Thomas Shelby (32) x Innocent! Reader (19)

Warning: Age Gap, Smut

Two days later, when you were working at the orphanage again, it came as a surprise to you that Michael Grosvenor, the man who had invaded your personal space in Thomas' eyes, was no longer there. According to another staff member, Michael had resigned and his abrupt departure surprised you.

"He resigned? Really?"  you asked the staff member, surprised by this sudden turn of events. You wondered if Thomas had anything to do with Michael's departure, but you quickly dismissed the thought. 

"Yes, he came in and gave his resignation this morning without any prior notice," the staff member explained to you. "He just said that he received a better offer elsewhere and couldn't pass it up."

You nodded, trying to process this information.  Something didn't quite add up, but you couldn't put your finger on it. You had never seen Thomas act out of anger, but there was something in the way he had reacted to hearing about Michael two nights ago that made you think twice. Your husband was an influential man, and you knew he had connections all over town. But still, to get an employee fired just for touching your arm seemed extreme, even for a man of his standing. 

But you quickly pushed the thought out of your mind as you turned back to your work at the orphanage. The children needed your attention and, as an employee there, you did not want to let them down.

Eventually, days turned into weeks and soon a month had passed since your wedding day. You had settled well into your new life with Thomas. He was attentive and kind, always making sure that you were well taken care of. Twice a week, you worked at the orphanage with Isiah by your side and twice a week, you cooked, for your husband and the staff of the house, which was something you truly enjoyed. 

In your time off, Thomas and you would spend it together in his house which became more of a home with each day that passed. You also enjoyed the stables, riding horses and even having days in bed with your new husband, exploring each other's bodies and learning new things about one another. It was during those moments that you truly felt like a married couple, in love and content.

But, despite the love that Thomas had for you, there were moments where he would disappear for hours, sometimes entire days and nights on end. You never asked where he went or what he did but his absence would leave you feeling empty and anxious. He would always come back to you eventually, hands clean of any negative deeds, simply telling you that "he had business to attend to" before pulling you into a tight embrace.

You knew better than to ask questions, knowing that he would never reveal the truth behind his absence and that his world was one you had only scratched the surface of.

Still, despite the unknown aspects about your husband, you trusted him while, unbeknownst to you, Thomas Shelby was one of the most ruthless men in Birmingham. But, when it came to you, his wife, he was as gentle as a lamb. Your innocence seemed to calm him down and make him a better man. 

Little did you know, that beneath his charming exterior and seemingly kind demeanor was a man capable of murder, extortion, and other heinous crimes. This side of him he reserved for his business dealings with other gang members and none of them revealed anything about your husband's crimes to you until the day you were shocked when you read the morning paper. 

"Man found murdered by the docks," the headlines  screamed at you, as you sat down on the comfortable armchair with a cup of tea in your hands. The photo accompanying the article was a gruesome one, showing a man's lifeless body lying crumpled and twisted next to the water.

Your heart skipped a beat when you recognized the victim as Michael Grosvenor, your colleague from the orphanage. The name registered in your mind immediately and with it came the memories of his sudden departure from the children's home just weeks ago. 

"Isiah, did you see this?" you asked , your voice trembling as you held up the paper for him to see.

Isiah, who had been standing by the window, watching the morning rain, turned to look at you. His expression was one of surprise and concern as he took in the headline.

"Hmm," he muttered under his breath, his eyes scanning the article while he shook his head, sighing deeply in disbelief as if he already knew that Michael Grosvenor was dead.

"You don't seem to be surprised, Isiah. Why is that?" you asked, your eyes narrowing as you studied his face.

"I can't say, Miss," Isiah replied, his tone carefully neutral. "It'sjust, I had a feeling, you know." 

You nodded, although you couldn't shake an uneasy feeling growing in your stomach. "Who would do such a thing?" you asked , your voice barely above a whisper as you struggled to process the information. You were shocked and horrified to find out that Michael had been murdered.

"I couldn't say, Miss," Isiah replied, his expression somber. "It could be anyone. Birmingham is a dangerous place, after all, that's why your husband has me looking after you when he isn't around." 

You nodded slowly, still trying to make sense of it all. Your mind kept drifting back to Thomas and the possessiveness he had shown towards you. You wondered if there was a connection between his behavior and Michael's murder.

But the thought of Thomas being capable of such a thing was impossible for you to comprehend. He had never shown any violent tendencies towards you and had always been kind and gentle. Yet, you couldn't ignore the feeling that something wasn't quite right.

Later that day, when your husband returned home, you couldn't help but observe him closely. He was charming and polite as always, his eyes softening when they met yours. But there was a tension in his shoulders that hadn't been there before.

"Is everything okay, Thomas?" you asked, your voice hesitant as you stepped closer to him.

"Of course, Love," Thomas replied, his voice soothing as he pulled you into his embrace. "Why do you ask?"

"I just...I read about Michael Grosvenor today," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "It said that he was found dead by the docks," you told him and Tommy simply nodded before running his fingers over your cheek. 

"I'm sorry to hear that," he then said, but there was no emotion in his voice. It was as if he were discussing the weather instead of a man's untimely death.

"Me too. He was a nice man," you replied, your voice distant as you tried to keep your emotions in check. You pulled back from Thomas and looked up at him, your eyes searching for any hint of what he might be feeling.

Thomas looked down at you, his expression unreadable. There was a moment of silence between you as you both waited for the other to say something. Finally, Thomas spoke up.

"I missed you today , Love," Thomas' voice was low and husky, his eyes darkening with desire a he ought to change the topic. 

"I missed you too, Tommy," you whispered, your voice trembling. You knew better than to bring Michael's name up again , knowing full well how jealous Thomas could become. So, you pushed the thought out of your mind and focused on the present moment with your husband.

Thomas' hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer as he pressed a kiss to your neck. "I'm glad," Thomas replied, his lips brushing against your skin in a way that sent shivers down your spine. "Because I had a really long day today and all I want to do right now is fuck my wife." 

"Tommy, stop," you gasped. "I have dinner in the oven," you protested, your voice weak as he trailed kisses down your neck. "It's almost ready."

But Thomas didn't seem to care about dinner. His hands were already undoing the buttons of your blouse, his fingers deft and quick as he exposed your bare skin.

"Fuck dinner, eh," Thomas growled, his mouth finding the curve of your breast as he tugged your blouse off and let it fall to the floor.  "I need you. Right fucking now."

You gasped as he took your nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak until you were writhing against him, desperate for more. He reached down between your legs, tearing your panties aside as he stroked your wet folds with his fingers.

"You're so fucking wet for me," Thomas murmured, his voice dripping with desire as he pressed a finger inside of you. "Always so ready for me."

You moaned softly, your hips bucking upward as he added a second finger, stretching you in the most delicious way. He rubbed his thumb over your clit, making you gasp as pleasure shot through your body.

"Thomas," you breathed, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you held on for dear life. 

"Bend over my desk ," Thomas growled, his eyes blazing with a raw, primal hunger.

Your legs trembled as you obeyed his commands, turning around and bending over.

"Perfect," Thomas growled, his hands moving to your hips as he positioned himself behind you and unbuckled his belt.

He then unzipped his pants, pulled them down with his boxers and pushed aside your panties. 

You gasped as you felt him press the tip of his cock against your entrance, teasing you with what was to come.

Thomas' grip on your hips tightened as he thrust inside of you with one swift motion. You cried out at the sudden invasion, your walls stretching around him as he buried himself deep within you.

Thomas set a relentless pace, the sound of his hips slapping against your ass echoing through the room as he moved in and out of you.

"You feel so fucking good," Thomas grunted, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he powered into you. "So tight and warm around my cock."

You moaned as he hit your sweet spot, your walls clenching around him as pleasure spiked through your body.

"Fuck, Y/N, you're going to make me cum like this," Thomas growled, his thrusts becoming erratic.

You could tell he was close, but you weren't quite there yet. You needed something more...something extra to push you over the edge.

As if reading your mind, Thomas reached around and pressed his thumb against your clit. You moaned as he strummed the sensitive bundle of nerves, each stroke sending lances of sensation straight to your core.

"Yes, just like that," you whimpered, your voice barely above a whisper. "Please don't stop."

Thomas grunted in response, his hips moving faster as he fucked you harder. You could feel yourself getting close, the familiar heat coiling low in your belly. It wouldn't be long now...until suddenly it hit you.  Your orgasm tore through your body like a tidal wave, leaving you trembling with pleasure.

"Fuck, Love..." he groaned. "Please let me come inside you," Thomas' voice was husky and raw with desire.

"No, you can't cum inside me," you said, your own voice breathless with pleasure.

"Please Y/N. Let me fill you up. Let me claim you as mine in every possible way," Thomas pleaded, his voice hoarse with desire, as he continued to pump in and out of your slick heat.

You bit your lip, unsure what to do. Part of you wanted to let him, wanted to feel him cum inside of you, but there was another part of you that knew it was a terrible idea.

"I can't Tommy. I am not ready," you moaned, your hips bucking as he grazed your g-spot with each thrust. Falling pregnant wasn't an option for you, not yet at least and Tommy knew that all too well. 

Groaning in frustration, he pulled out of you at the last possible second, spilling his seed upon your lower back in hot, white streams. The combination of your orgasm and his release left him feeling weak at the knees, but he still managed to reach for his handkerchief and clean you up.

You watched him as he worked, your chest heaving with exertion and pleasure. Your muscles felt like jelly and you could barely muster up enough energy to stand on your own two feet.

Thomas helped you straighten up and pulled up your panties before he righted his own clothing and fastened his belt.

He turned you around and pulled you into an embrace. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he placed a soft kiss on your lips.

"I'm sorry, Love," Thomas whispered, his voice low and rough. "I couldn't help myself. I had to ask." 

You smiled up at him, your fingertips tracing the line of his jaw. "It's okay Tommy," you replied softly.  "One day soon, I'll be ready."

Thomas nodded, his chin resting on top of your head as he held you close. He didn't want to pressure you, but the thought of filling you up with his seed, marking you as his own in the most primal way possible, was driving him wild with desire. 

"I know, Love," Thomas murmured. "You are still young."  Thomas said, his voice barely above a whisper against your ear as he held you close. "And sometimes I seem to forget that," your husband added, a hint of regret in his tone.

Thomas' hands trailed down your body, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. He pulled back from you just enough to look into your eyes.

"You know I love you, right?" Thomas asked, his voice soft and sincere and, of course, you nodded.

"I love you too, Tommy," you replied, your voice just as sincere.

You believed in the truth of those words with every fiber of your being. You loved Thomas Shelby more than anything or anyone in this world and he knew it. But what he didn't know is that there were times when you felt like something was missing between the two of you. Something fundamental that should hold a marriage together but seemed to be absent in yours. You couldn't put your finger on it and that was probably why you never brought it up.  It wasn't anything tangible, just a feeling that lingered in the pit of your stomach. It only made itself known when Thomas was away on business and even then, it wasn't always present.

There was something about him and his life you did not know or understand, but you were too afraid to ask.

And even if you did ask, Thomas would never tell you.

It was one of those things that people kept to themselves.

One of those taboos only whispered about behind closed doors.

There were many rumors, but you never gave them much thought, always writing them off as malicious gossip meant to bring down a great man.

But still, the feeling remained and you couldn't shake it off no matter how hard you tried.

There was a darkness within him that you had only caught glimpses of, but it made you wonder what truly went on in his mind.

That night, after the intense love-making session and dinner, your husband had some more business matters to attend to and, again, you didn't question him.

"When will you be back?" you asked , your voice soft as you watched Thomas gather his things.

"I don't know, Love," Thomas replied, his expression apologetic. "I wish I could tell you more, but I can't. Not yet. It's just...it's complicated."

You nodded, understanding that this was part of the territory when you married a man like Thomas Shelby. You were used to the uncertainty by now, but that didn't mean it was easy. You swallowed past the lump in your throat and forced a smile on your face.

"It's okay, Tommy," you assured him. "I understand. I'll be here when you get back."

That was all you could do, really. Wait for him to return and hope that everything would be alright. Sometimes, the uncertainty was almost too much to bear, but you loved Thomas too much to let it come between you.

He leaned down and gave you a gentle kiss on the lips before heading out the door. You watched him leave, your heart heavy as you closed the door behind him.

The house felt empty without him, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of loneliness settling in. You walked around the house, touching the ornate furniture and fine artwork that filled the space, each piece a reflection of Thomas' wealth and power.

As you moved through the rooms, taking in the beauty of your surroundings, you couldn't help but feel a sense of disconnect from it all. The opulence and luxury were overwhelming, and you wondered if this was truly the life you wanted to live.

In the end, you retreated to your husband's office in the search for some good whiskey and a pen and paper.  You knew you wouldn't be able to sleep tonight, not until Thomas was home safe and sound. You poured yourself a generous glass of whiskey and settled down in the comfortable leather chair behind Thomas's desk.

The amber liquid burned pleasantly in your throat as you took a deep sip, warming your body as it coursed through your veins. Your eyes landed on the pen and paper that lay next to the decanter, and on a whim, you decided to write down your feelings, something you hadn't done in a long time.

It was a simple task, writing down your thoughts and emotions, but it felt good to get everything out of your system and onto the page. As you wrote, the words flowed freely from your mind to your hand and before long, you had filled up the entire page with ink.

As you read through what you had written, you felt a sense of relief wash over you. It was as if a weight had been lifted off of your shoulders, and you felt lighter than you had in a long time.

You continued to write for hours, pouring your heart and soul onto the page until there was nothing left to say.

When you got the last piece of paper however, you noticed something strange. There was a key hidden beneath the pile of  sheets. Frowning, you picked it up, turning it over between your fingers. It was small and made of brass, the keychain a simple ring with the letters 'BP' engraved into it.

Calling for one of the maids, you enquired about the key but even Frances did not know what it was meant to open.

You thanked her nonetheless before curiosity got the better of you , and you decided to embark on your own little investigation.

You started with doors, then cabinets, even trying it in some of the antique jewelry boxes belonging to Tommy's late first wife, Grace. 

But it seemed that the key was made for neither of those things.

As you made your way through the mansion, you continued to search for any possible place it could fit. It wasn't until you reached the cellar that you found the answer.

The cellar was dimly lit, with rows upon rows of wine bottles lining the walls. It felt like a completely different world compared to the luxurious and bright atmosphere of the mansion above and after looking around for a while, you came across an old desk in the corner of the cellar, cluttered with old papers and knick-knacks. It looked untouched for years, gathering dust and cobwebs.

You approached it, drawn to it for some reason. You ran your fingers over the dusty surface, feeling the history of the mansion seep into your skin.

Then you saw it - a large, old looking lockbox nestled in between two old books.

Your heart raced as you pulled out the brass key from your pocket and inserted it into the lock.

You held your breath as you turned the key, listening for the sound of the tumblers falling into place. With a soft click, the lock disengaged and you slowly lifted the lid, revealing the box's contents which comprised of sheets of paper and photographs.

You had not expected to find anything particularly interesting in the lockbox, but as you sifted through the contents, you discovered that the papers and photographs all related to you and the past life that you had lived.

There were photographs of you and the respective men you had been with in the past. There were employment records, family records and even health records . It was like staring into a mirror that reflected the life you had lived before Thomas Shelby came along, dating back to when you were much younger than you are now.

Then there were photographs and records for each of your past boyfriends too and if this wasn't enough already, accompanied with them were police reports relating to their deaths.  Everything was organized and compiled in a neat manner, almost like a journal, but the sheer gravity of it all left you feeling cold and numb.

Your parents and brother had a file as well , each bearing details of their lives and deaths and whilst it was clear that your parents had passed by accident, the disappearance of your brother and ex-lovers didn't seem to be such a random occurrence anymore.

Unbeknownst to you, all of them were dead . Vanished into thin air, or rather, killed and disposed of methodically.

You felt a chill run down your spine as you came across the stack of obituaries, the names and faces staring back at you, only further confirming what was once unthinkable.

"Oh my god!"  you gasped, your hands shaking as you dropped the obituaries and stumbled back, your heart pounding in your chest. "What is this? What does it mean?"

You knew the answer before the question even left your lips. The evidence was right in front of you, impossible to ignore.

Your now husband had been spying on you for a while , keeping a detailed record of your past relationships and ultimately ensuring that each one of those men met an untimely end so that he could claim you one day.

"No, it can't be," you whispered to yourself, your voice shaking with fear and confusion. 

But as you continued to sift through the contents of the lockbox, the truth became increasingly apparent. Thomas Shelby wasn't the man you thought he was. He was controlling, manipulative, and dangerous in ways you could never have imagined and when, eventually, you heard his voice ringing out from the top of the stairs, you couldn't help but feel your stomach drop.

Tags:

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[yoonivy]

gold rush; part 2.

modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader

genre. romantic comedy — inspired by 10 things i hate about you and also another movie (can you guess which one? :) ) , college/university au, eventual smut, enemies to lovers (kinda??? their relationship is complicated to explain LOL)

In all the 8 years you’ve known Aemond Targaryen, he has not spoken more than 8 words to you. In total. So why is he starting now?

warnings. none.

author's note. i have no poetic bone in my body so oc's poem is taken from mitski's "your best american girl". enjoy!!!!

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This is not how you thought you’ll be spending your first day off in months — with your favorite distressed black tee of your favorite band covered in flour, eggs in your hair, and coloured icing staining your hands. But you suppose there are worse ways to spend your day off, and at least all this hard work will pay off with all the delicious desserts that Sansa is manically making.

And by manic, you are not at all joking in the slightest. 

On every available surface of Sansa’s kitchen, there is at least one tray of some sort of baked goods cooling. Cookies on the kitchen table, banana bread and her favorite lemon cakes on the island, three different flavours of cheesecakes by the sink, and macaron shells currently in the oven. And she’s not even finished! While you are currently decorating the cookies, she is frantically stirring something else in a bowl — by hand, because once again for the 9th time this year, she had broken an electric mixer just a bit earlier. 

There is only one reason Sansa gets like this. There is something troubling her mind. And by the looks of the disaster she made of her kitchen, it’s pretty big. 

She’ll let you know when she’s ready to vent. But for now, you’re just both happy for the company. 

Plus, you’re finally getting a hang of this icing piping thing if you do say so yourself. You stand back, picking up the sea salt caramel chip cookie you finished decorating to proudly show off the cute turtle to Sansa. 

She laughs, offering an excited, “ Awwww!” before she goes back to mixing. 

It’s quiet for a while, both of you concentrated on the task at hand. 

Mayhaps too quiet, you start to think…

That is when you smell something… strange. 

“Oh no!” 

Sansa reacts and jumps on it first, quick to the oven with her mitts, pulling out the tray of charred macaron shells and placing it onto the stove. You stand by her as she slumps in defeat, and you notice she forgot to set the timer she already had ready on the oven. 

From this close, it’s easier to notice how frazzled and disheveled Sansa truly is. Her copper hair is in disarray, falling from her tight bun in many places, her bangs messy against her forehead. Her rosy complexion even more flush than usual. And the bags under her eyes… She has not slept well.   

Meeting your gaze, she lets out a heavy sigh, and finally comes out with it, “Jon asked me out.”

“ Oh… ” You trail off, eyes shifting from side to side. “That’s… that’s it?”

“What?!” Sansa is so shocked that you’re so nonchalant about it. As if she and Jon haven’t been dancing around each other for nearly two years now. “Isn’t that… Isn’t it…” 

You gasp into an over exaggerated worried expression. “Oh no… you’re going to reject him, aren’t you?”

Your poor bestie… Now he is going to be even more sulky than ever. If that’s even possible. 

“I— no! I mean, I want —” Sansa sputters, eyes widening wildly. Then she takes a breath to recollect herself, stares at you for a moment before she claims, “You all knew, didn’t you?”

You nod slowly.

“Even… Robb?”

“I’m pretty sure Robb’s the one that gave him the final push to ask you.”

Sansa groans, face palming. “This is so embarrassing…”

“Yeah, it’s so strange. How very Cersei Lannister of you,” you tease, clearly unserious with your reference to the recent scandal of the high profile actress who was caught having an affair… With her own twin brother, the most booked and busy male model Jaime Lannister. Some say the raunchy videos that leaked were just deep fakes and the twins were the ones who leaked it themselves to hide the fact they both weren’t straight, but many others — like yourself and Sansa — think it’s as real as can be. For the first two weeks when the scandal broke out, you and Sansa kept sending the group chat twitter “proof” threads of clips of the Lannister twins throughout the years (on the red carpet, the photoshoots they often were paired up with together, their own content they would post of one another) to convince your other friends. Needless to say, all the guys left the group chat and would only agree to be added back if the two of you shut the fuck up about it. 

They’re lucky that the star of the reality television show "Keeping Up With The Martells", Arianne Martell, started dating comedian Pete Davidson a week later or else they would have never been added back.

Sansa’s face falls into a silent gasp, and you quickly have to convince her, “I’m joking, Sansa! You and Jon are nothing like them! And plus, cousins dating is not that weird… Aren’t your grandparents cousins?”

“Yes, but–”

“And they’re the most adorable little old couple I’ve ever seen! How they would always walk around the godswood every morning holding hands… my little heart couldn’t handle the cuteness every time I saw them when we were growing up!”

Sansa giggles, smiling fondly at the thought of her grandparents. “You’re right… They are so sweet.”

You share a smile, but then Sansa frowns suddenly. “But it’s not even that… I mean it was , but there’s also… There’s also the fact I was horrible to Jon when we were growing up.”

You won’t deny that, but… “Well clearly things have changed. You’ve changed. And it’s obvious Jon forgives you… And honestly, if I have to hear him be all sad boy and pine over you and play his guitar while singing some song by Cigarettes After Sex for another night, I think I might really have to K word myself.”

“Don’t do that!” Sansa laughs, shaking her head. You raise a brow at her and then she nods, determined.

“I’m going to talk to him… Right now,” Sansa declares, smiling wide. Then she takes your hands into hers. “Thank you… For being here for me when I’m such a mess.”

“It’s nothing, Sansa,” you say as you pull your hands from her grasp to wrap her into a tight hug. “I’m always here for you, you know that! And I know you’d do the same for me.”

After you both pull away, your finger grazes on her cheek and then you show her the pad now covered in cake mixture. “Maybe shower first before you talk to him?”

You both laugh, and then Sansa leaves you alone in her kitchen. You start to clean up, getting most of it done and only stopping when you pass by the tray of cookies you were working on.

As you stare at one of the chocolate chips you had decorated, you pull your phone out of your pocket. 

To Aemond

— are you at school rn?

From Aemond

— Yes. At Barristan Hall. 

— Why?

To Aemond

— okay good! 

— STAY THERE!! 😡

From Aemond

— Alright. 

— Why?

— Oh, so it's okay when you leave me on read?

--

You laugh at Aemond’s unintentional silliness while you slam close the car door you just stepped out of. 

To Aemond — it’s only been 5 minutes you drama queen!! — i’ll see you soon!

“I was promised treats for the ride.”

You roll your eyes, looking across the hood of the car where Theon is putting on his clubmaster sunglasses. You meet him at the front of his car, handing him one of the little dessert packages you had made with Sansa. His eyes light up as he takes it, going ‘ oooh! ’, then he glances up into your eyes more expectantly. Even from behind the sunglasses, you can feel his little beady eyes doing that pleading, wide-eyed emoji look at you.

“You motherf…” You curse him under your breath, rummaging into your tote bag to hand him what he really wanted. The preroll you were saving for yourself later that evening.

“It’s a pleasure doing business with you, m’lady,” he says with a bow. 

“Uh-huh.”

As the two of you walk off the parking lot together, Theon lights it up, takes a hit before handing it to you. “Why are you here anyway? I thought you didn't have classes today?”

“I don’t,” you tell him, after exhaling the sativa from your lungs. You hold up the second tote bag you were carrying to show him. “I’m just being a little dessert fairy! I’m gonna give one to Seaworth, Professor Tarth, and…” 

Taking back the spliff and glancing your way, Theon grins and teases, “And your little Targaryen boyfie ?”

Your face twists in disgust. “Ew. Please never say that ever again,” Theon snickers as you continue, “And he’s not my boyfriend… We’re just… friends…question mark?”

You’re definitely not even sure about that. It’s been a week since the party, and you’ve yet to see Aemond in person since then. 

But the two of you have been texting. A lot. 

Surprisingly, Aemond is fun to text despite his perfect sentence structures, proper punctuation, and no use of emojis. Though strangely enough, you don’t even have to explain the internet slangs you say and memes you often send him, he just somehow knows. You usually get a very dry ‘Haha.’ and you’re not sure if he even finds it actually funny. He still keeps texting you though, so you take that as a good sign. 

“ Friends… right. Because you make out with your friends all the time in front of a huge crowd.”

“How many times do I have to tell you: WE DID NOT MAKE OUT! OR EVEN KISS FOR THAT MATTER!”

Theon waves around the phone in his hand. “I have video evidence! And so does Marg! And a million other people that were at the party!”

“And you’re all dumb, like I’ve said before,” you tell him with a pout. You can’t believe the videos of you and Aemond “kissing” gained traction around the students at your school and yet none of your sick dance moves did. The world is so unfair!

As the two of you stop by the doors of the building where his first and only class of the day is being held, Theon steps on the roach of the spliff. Then he turns to you, pulling down his sunglasses on the bridge of his nose, enough for you to see his eyes. “How do I look?”

“Like you smoked half a joint.”

“Shit… Mordane is going to kill me.”

You hum, satisfied. “Perhaps it’s deserved… I know it’s your video that’s been spreading around, you little shit!” 

From the anonymous TikTok video that Jon showed you that was being spread around the night after the party titled “Vale U’s Ice Prince snogging the weirdest girl at Vale U”, you can hear Margaery gasping beside the cameraman and the cameraman laughing annoyingly. It’s definitely Theon.

Theon now laughs again, the same annoying laugh from the video, and shrugs his shoulders flippantly. Opening the doors, he lilts at you, “Say hi to your boyfie for me!”

With your middle finger up at him, you sing-song back, “I won’t!” 

--

“Theon says hi .”

Aemond eyes you quizzically, brows furrowing together in a way that you would think is cute if he was your boyfriend like Theon teases. But he’s not, so it’s like, whatever…

“Theon…?” He repeats, still confused. 

“You know, my friend who I think spread that video of us?”

“ Ah… ” Aemond lets out, finally putting a face to the name. Then he looks up at you from where you are standing just beside the table he is sitting at, clearing his throat. “So… How have you been?”

“Fine,” you tell him with a shrug, glancing around the room. You think this must be the first time you’ve been to Barristan Hall since… Well, since your tour guide of the University two years ago. This building is unnecessarily too bougie , and it’s where the more privileged students (read, nepo babies ) like to spend their time on campus. Even this study hall — if you can even call it that — has a stall of the most expensive coffee store chain in it and a freaking high-end bar . It’s ridiculous!  

Aemond is at least studying judging by the book and laptop he has opened in front of him, unlike the other students mingling around. 

You then turn your attention back to him, finding his eye still on you. With a soft smile, you return his question, “How about you? How have you been?”

Aemond sits up a little straighter as he says, “I’ve been… well.” He then presses his lips together, before opening his mouth again, “So, what—”

“Oh, ____! Fancy seeing you here!”

You and Aemond glance to where Ramsay, Aegon, and Vis are all approaching the two of you. 

Before you can even dodge it, Ramsay has his arms wrapped around you. Cringing, you push him off you with a glare that he takes with an amused chuckle. He leans in close, too close , and inhales deeply, smirking at you when he pulls back, “You smell real sweet, sweetheart.”

You make a face that hopefully conveys your utter disgust for him but then Aegon pushes him aside with his arms wide open towards you with pout, “Where’s my hug at, ____?”

You suppress a grimace, tentatively hugging Aegon back when he steps towards you, patting his back awkwardly. It’s strange for Aegon to be this friendly towards you, but maybe it’s because Aemond and you are sorta, kinda, maybe friends now? And Aegon was the nicer of the two towards you when you were growing up. Daeron and Helaena are still the sweetest though.

From over your shoulder, Aegon smirks at his little brother, the glare Aemond has on him making him tighten his arm around you. 

Luckily Vis does not seem to care for you, already sitting down at the table with Aemond with his iced Sunspearino. Aegon finally lets you go and join, sitting beside his brother – bending down to snicker mischievously into Aemond’s ear before he does so. Hidden from view from under the table, Aemond’s knuckles whiten from his clenched fist. 

Ramsay stays standing with his hips cocked and arms crossed, his sleazy gaze steady on you.

Ugh.

“So, ____, have you visited our father lately?” Aegon asks, throwing his arm around Aemond.

“Yup, just yesterday!” You tell him. Then to both him and Aemond, you suggest, “You know, you two should visit him more often. He’s always asking about you guys as if I know what the two of you are up to…” 

Aegon snorts while Aemond frowns, looking down.

“Last time we visited, we found some very interesting… things , that our dear father has been hiding,” Aegon says, eyeing you closely. 

“Like what…?” Your face twists. “... Porn ? Actually — whatever it is, don’t even tell me!”

The boys laugh – except Aemond – and Aegon points towards you, wagging his finger, “You’re pretty funny. I like you!”

“Told ya she’s cute,” Ramsay comments and you almost gag.

“I don’t know about that…” Vis mutters under his breath. “She has egg in her hair for crying out loud…”

With your mouth downturned, you glance down at your hair and find that he is right — you do have egg in your hair. Well that’s embarrassing…

“You’re here to give me something, weren’t you?” Aemond asks, changing the subject. 

“Oh right!” You exclaim, pulling out a neatly plastic wrapped package tied together with a red ribbon and placing it on the table for Aemond. Inside the clear plastic sheet are different individually boxed sweets in clear small tupperware. It’s a bit extra, but that’s Sansa for you! “I spent the morning baking with a friend and we made too much, so… Here you go!” Then you grin at Vis, holding up a piece of your hair, “The reason why I have egg,” you tell him with a laugh. He smiles tightly, still unamused.

You turn back to Aemond, pointing out the different dessert from outside the package, “I wasn’t sure what you liked so I gave you a bit of everything… That’s lemon cake over there, Sansa’s favorite. Oh, the macarons! I think I gave you the pistachio and coffee flavored one. Um… Strawberry cheesecake. The banana bread is pretty fire… and,” Your eyes light up as you giddily talk, and Aemond’s cheeks heats up, “I decorated that cookie myself! Don’t you think it’s cute?” You meet his eyes, and he startles, realizing he has been looking at you the entire time instead of following what you were pointing out. You did not notice, only smiling at him as you let him know “It’s a dragon, like your family—”

“That doesn’t look like a dragon,” Aegon remarks rudely, and both you and Aemond snap at him at the same time, “Yes, it does!”

You throw an appreciative smile at Aemond which he returns with a coy half-grin, while Aegon murmurs with a frown, “Geez, talk about touchy ….”

“Thank you,” Aemond says softly, pulling the package towards himself. 

Grinning, you wave him off, “No problem!”

Then you glance at the time on your phone. “I should get going,” you tell him, already backing away. “I’ll talk to you later!”

Aemond stands suddenly, but doesn’t move, just nods as his hands stay pressed on the table. “Yeah, later…”

You throw him one final glance back with a sweet smile on your face and he grins back. 

Once you’re gone, that’s when he finally sits back down. 

“I guess Aemond has game after all,” Vis smirks. “Didn’t think you had it in you…”

Ramsay harrumphs, now also seated. “She never once gave me a package of sweets…” Then he grins sordidly, “But she did give something else that’s pretty sweet if you know what I mean…”

“Fuck off,” Aegon laughs out loud. “You’re gonna make Aemond blow a fuse.”

“He shouldn’t be getting attached to her,” Vis reminds Aegon, and Aemond in turn with a furrowed look. “Isn’t that the whole plan?”

“Looks like he’s getting pretty attached to me,” Ramsay says with a yawn. 

“I’m not,” Aemond says, surely. “I’m just trying to make it all believable. Isn’t that the plan also?”

“So you wouldn’t mind if I have a go again after you dump her?” Ramsay asks, with an innocent tilt in his voice. “I’ve missed that tight cunt …”

Tension clenches Aemond’s jaw minutely, then evenly he says, “Go ahead. By my guest.”

But when Aegon tries to grab for one of the sweets, Aemond snatches it away, and stuffs the package with care in his bag. He then stands up and gathers all his things, stalking away without another word.

Aegon heaves a sigh, incredulously asking, “What’s his problem?!” 

Ramsay smirks, letting out a chuckle. “Oh, this is going to be fun …”

--

You managed to catch Professor Tarth before she left the campus, so your next and final stop for the dessert delivery is your favorite teacher, your literature professor, Davos Seaworth.

You find him in his office and he does not even hesitate to dig into the double mocha cheesecake in his sweets package. 

“How many extra credits do you want for this?” He asks, pointing at the cheesecake he is almost finished. “I’ll give you as many as you want.”

You laugh while shaking your head, flipping through a book he had just given you to read at your leisure. “No credits! But I’ll make sure to bring you more of that one next time!”

Knowing Sansa, next time will be pretty soon.

“Hmm… alright…” Davos trails off, dabbing his beard with a napkin. “By the way, have you signed up for the poetry slam I told you about?”

You sink into your seat, the one across the desk he is sitting at, sheepishly grinning at him, “Not yet…”

Davos hums out disgruntledly. “And why not?”

“I completely forgot about it,” you say with a shrug, you know, like a liar. 

In truth, it’s all you’ve been thinking about. The poetry slam competition at Moon Door Cafe, where the winner will win a 5k cheque and their poetry collection published in a book — both of which you need and want, respectively.

“You better, ____. I’ve already told my friend to look out for you.”

“Okay, then I will,” you try to tell him, but Davos keeps his skeptical gaze on you. “I promise I’ll send in an email tonight!”

Then, once again like a liar, you don’t.

--

Two days later, Aemond finds himself standing by your apartment door, his life getting threatened by the muted snarling of the biggest wolf he has ever seen, so early in the morning.

“Ghost, stop… ” Jon Snow frowns at the white direwolf that still has its teeth bared at Aemond. Jon gently pushes the wolf aside, opening the door wider to allow Aemond to step inside. “Don’t worry, he won’t bite… He’s just… uh… I don’t even know what his problem is today…” Jon sends Aemond a weak smile, “He’s usually pretty friendly…”

Aemond eyes the wolf before turning to Jon. “It’s fine. I’m not really good with animals.”

Jon offers him a slow nod, then informs Aemond, “____’s just in a washroom. Getting ready, I think?”

Aemond hums just as Jon presents his hand. “I don’t think we’ve properly met, I’m Jon. ____’s roommate, and uh… best friend?”

Aemond shifts the coffee tray over to hold with just one hand to shake it. “Aemond. Why do you sound unsure?”

Jon laughs softly, “Oh, I don’t know…”

Aemond eyes him for a second then hums again. He remembers you telling him about how awkward Jon is, so that might be it.

Aemond then glances around the small space — a living room, kitchen, and dining room all in one — it’s homely and cozy, and he can definitely picture you in here. Flitting around, watering the plants, dancing to the music playing from the vinyl player, cooking in the kitchenette…

“Oh, hey! I went with ____ to your dad’s place yesterday!”  

The smile on Aemond’s face falls just when he turns to see Jon grinning wide at him. 

“He’s really awesome! And a hell of a Cyvasse player — I think he beat me in just four turns!” Jon recalls with a laugh.

Aemond exhales heavily, offering Jon a tight-lipped smile. “That’s… great.”

Feeling the awkward tension finally, Jon rubs a hand at the back of his neck. “Oh, uh… yeah…”

“Whoa, hey! What are you doing here?”

Aemond glances over to where Ghost pads to, and his eye widen and balks when he sees you just wrapped in a tiny towel. 

You walk around your apartment like this — with Jon just in the room?! 

He then swerves his stare at Jon who looks unmoved but looking at you as well. 

“I think he brought you breakfast,” Jon tells you all nonchalantly, and Aemond lifts up the coffee tray he is carrying dumbly. 

Your whole face lights up, smiling wide at him, so much brighter than the sun coming through the windows, “Aw, that’s so sweet! Wait, let me get dressed first!” You hurry into your room, slamming the door behind you and Ghost who follows you in. 

“Is this for the desserts I gave you!?” He hears you call from behind the door. “Because you really didn’t have to!”

“It’s–” he starts to call out, but you are already walking out your room. And although it took you less than a minute, you look absolutely… breathtaking.

Aemond will not admit it, but his heart leaps to his throat; staring at you all slack jawed and short of breath. 

You bounce to him cheerfully; Ghost in tow, now happier as well by the way his tail wags. You grab one of the paper bags on the tray, opening it to find an almond croissant. “ Oooh , but I won’t say no!” You smile at him gratefully, “Thank you! ”

Aemond takes a hard swallow, and finds himself smiling back, “No problem.”

As he sets the tray down on the small round kitchen table, you break off a piece of the croissant and offer it to Jon to taste. Aemond watches the interaction with a frown on his face. He shakes it off with a shake of his head, and pulls out one of the cups from the tray, handing it to you, “This is for you.”

You take it happily, but as you read through the label the barista had messily written on the cup, your face begins to falter. “Oh, um…”

Aemond’s expression hardens. “You don’t like lattes?”

“No! I love lattes!” You quickly say. “It’s great–”

“She’s lactose intolerant,” Jon explains and Aemond’s face falls.

“It’s all good! I can just take lactaid!”

“But you hate hot drinks…”

“Jon… You’re not helping…” You tell your best friend through gritted teeth.

“But it’s freezing outside,” Aemond states, so he thought you’d appreciate something warm for this chilly morning…

“Okay, don’t judge me…” you glare playfully at Aemond. “I like iced drinks! Is that such a crime?”

Aemond shakes his head, though he is still frowning. “No, it’s not…”

Your head tilts at the look on his face, confused. “Aemond…”

“Here, give it to me,” Jon says, reaching for the cup in your hand. Once he has it, he goes to the cupboard, pulling out a water bottle. Then from the freezer, he grabs an ice tray, putting ice and the latte into the bottle before handing it back to you. 

“There,” Jon says with a satisfied grin. “All better for Miss Fussy.”

“Fuck you,” you huff out, and yet you laugh and your tone fond. “But what would I do without you?”

“I honestly don’t even know…”

As Aemond glances between you and your best friend sharing a smile, a strange feeling stirs inside him. 

--

“Is this your first time taking the bus?”

Aemond glares your way for your senseless question. “Of course not.”

But as he struggles to make himself comfortable on the seat beside yours, you have to giggle to yourself. It’s definitely his first time.

Aemond rolls his eye and ignores your tittering. 

Aemond’s annoyed, and rightfully so. You and him had a perfectly good ride to school but you insisted on taking the bus so Aemond let his driver go for the day to accompany you.

“Theon calls her a bus wanker,” Aemond remembers Jon saying earlier with a laugh while you got your school bag from your room.

At the puzzled look on Aemond’s face, Jon frowned, “You know… Like from the show… The Inbetweeners?”

Still confused, Jon finally told him, “It’s one of _____’s favorite shows. We, uh, rewatch it every few years together.”

And there Jon goes, once again reminding Aemond the history between the two of you. How he knows everything there is to know about you. 

Now that’s a wanker , Aemond thinks a little too spitefully.

Whatever, it doesn't even matter. Once Aemond finishes what he needs to do, he does not even need to know or remember all your favorite things anymore. All that knowledge will be useless to him in the future.

Crossing his arms against his chest, Aemond huffs haughtily, nostrils flaring. He grimaces; something smells strange in there, and he feels eyes on him. It’s a kid, unabashedly staring at him — or more particularly, his eyepatch. Aemond is sure that the boy is the reason for foul stench also, so he glowers at him, mouth pulled back in the sneer. 

He turns to you, about to ask why you enjoy riding on this godforsaken public transit ride, but then his expression lightens when he finds you staring out the window, a sleepy yet faraway look clouding your face. Your brows are furrowed, too deep in thought during such a bumpy ride, for so early in the morning. 

“What are you thinking about?” Aemond inquires a bit too softly as if his mouth moved faster than his mind, but it still pulls you out of your haze. 

You grin at him, head shaking. “It’s…”

Sighing, you pull out your phone to find something, then once you do, you hand it over to him.

Aemond tries not be bothered by the notifications that keeps popping up —

fellowship of the cool people + theon Jon 🐺— dinner at mine and ____’s tonight??

(Aemond refrains from rolling his eye.)

fellowship of the cool people + theon 🌈MeerMeer 🌼— 👍 — i’ll bring the weed

fellowship of the cool people + theon Robb 🐸— oh hell yeah!

fellowship of the cool people + theon GreyNoJoy 🦑— i’ll bring the best thing… myself 🥰

fellowship of the cool people + theon Margie 🌹❤️— ew

And Aemond focuses on the webpage you pulled up instead.

It is a Poetry Slam competition hosted by one of the best Music and Arts publications in the whole six continents, R'hllor Stone, at the Moon Door Cafe which is close by the Vale U campus. The winner gets a 5k cash prize, a book of their poetry published, and a full double-page feature in the magazine.

And the last day to sign up is… Today, at midnight.

“You haven’t signed up yet, have you?” 

“Nope,” you tell him, popping the ‘p’.

After handing you back your phone, Aemond hums for a moment, in thought. “Why not?”

“I don’t know,” you sigh, shrugging. “I guess I haven’t been super confident in my latest pieces, so it’s a bit daunting to send it in to be judged.”

“Do you want me to look over it? Give you my honest opinion?”

You make a face. Because hell no . Aemond is the last person you want to be reading your poetry. Mr. Psychology Major will probably psychoanalyze your musings and deem you crazy – or just plain stupid, which is more likely. 

“Well if it’s like the one you recently published on the school’s Instagram page, then I think it’s more than adequate.”

You whip your head to stare wide-eyed at him. Shocked. Flabbergasted. Befuddled.

“ You read that?!” 

Aemond flushes bright red, like he had not meant to confess that out loud. 

“It’s our stop,” He declares to move on from the subject, standing up suddenly to push at the button on one of the handles for the bus to stop. 

“Wait, Aemond —” 

But he doesn’t wait, knowing you are following behind him.

Aemond gets off the bus first, then turns to offer you his hand to help with the steps.

Aemond can’t help but note how your hand slips so easily into his. So warm against the cold that he finds himself holding onto you a little tighter.

Once you are both off the bus, Aemond glances around, clearly lost. He’s never seen this area of the campus before…

“Yeah… This isn’t our stop. We still had four to go,” You tell him with a snarky chuckle. When he glares at you, you defend yourself quickly, “Hey! I tried to tell you!” 

Aemond huffs a bit petulantly then starts to drag you the same direction the bus drove away at.

He also can’t help but note that you let him hold your hand until he walks you to the building of your first class.

untitled playlist

🎵 dreams tonite · alvvays 

--

The call arrives five days later, when you are studying in one of the libraries on campus.

You step away to pick it up, with Aemond raising a brow at you. 

(The two of you have been spending a lot of time together. Too much, maybe. 

Margaery jokes they’ve all been replaced. Theon says he’s officially your boyfie . Robb tells you to be careful. 

You tell them all to mind their business. And that the two of you are NOT dating.

Aemond is just a friend, and nothing more.)

You find a secluded aisle before you answer your phone. “Hello?”

“Good afternoon… Am I speaking to ____ ____?” The sultry voice from the other side asks.

“Yes, speaking…”

“Wonderful. I’m Melisandre, the editor-in-chief for R'hllor Stone—”

“I know who you are!” You squeal, a little too excitedly. You press your fingers to your mouth, eyelids squeezing shut in mortification. “Sorry, I’m sorry… I’ll, um…”

Melisandre laughs. “It’s quite alright! I’m just as excited as you are… I’ve read through your poetry portfolio for the Poetry Slam contest and I’m impressed…”

“You are…?” You ask, voice small and timid.

“I am,” Even through the phone, you can hear her smile. “I called to congratulate you for making it through the next round.”

You gasp. “Really?!” Earning you a shhhh! from someone an aisle over.

She laughs again and reassures you that it’s no joke. Then she informs you that she’ll be sending an email with more details soon — on what the theme will be, the schedule, etc.

“I’m glad Davos told me to look out for you. I can’t wait to meet you in person, ____,” Melisandre says before saying her goodbye and hanging up.

Your mouth drops in shock. 

Oh… Your favorite professor will definitely be getting an earful from you… How many times have you gushed the works of Melisandre to him and he never once mentioned she was the friend he was talking about? 

Well, an earful after you thank him profusely.

Speaking of saying thanks…

You head back to Aemond, standing by where he sits and motion for him to stand. His gaze is quizzical, so you do it again — your palm up in an upward motion, nodding as your eyes flutter shut with a cute grin. 

As if annoyed, Aemond let’s out a soft huff of hot air. But you think you know him at least a little bit better now, and it’s just a front he puts up. You’re starting to believe that his dad is right — that underneath all that cold exterior is a sweet guy deep inside. 

And you want to be the one to melt his icy, cold heart.

As a friend, of course .

As soon as he stands, you throw yourself at him, hugging around his tiny waist. He staggers back with an oof! You laugh, jumping back just as quickly as you were on him. 

You think you might have broken his brain a bit by the way stares at you with his eye wide and his mouth open dumbly. 

“What are you—? What was that—?”

He can’t seem to choose which question to ask, so you save him the trouble and say, “I made it into the Poetry Slam contest. And I hugged you because you were the reason I sent in my application,” with your hand on your hips cocked to the side, you tease, “I figured if your pretentious ass liked my stuff then what am I afraid of?”

Unsure, Aemond says, “You’re welcome…?” 

You chuckle, grinning wide. “No, seriously… thank you.”

He wets his lips then smiles too — that genuine smile again. The one you’ve been seeing more and more of each and every day. 

“Congratulations,” he says. And is it weird to say you think he looks proud of you? 

Unexpectedly shy all of the sudden under his gaze, you start to shift nervously side to side. “Do you… Want to… come watch?” 

Then a bit more hurriedly, you prattle on, “You don’t have to or anything! Just – If you’re not doing anything! It’s on a Saturday so you probably have better things to do—“

You stop babbling when Aemond shoves his phone screen your way. It’s on the calendar app, and on the last Saturday of the month, in two weeks, he has it marked off as “____’s poetry slam, @ moon door cafe, 1 PM”. 

Feeling thrown, you look away from the screen to meet his eye. “How did you…?”

Shrugging, Aemond puts his phone back into his pocket.

“I guess I had a feeling,” He smirks confidently. “You’re too headstrong to not at least give it a try…” The smirk then shifts into something warmer, his face softening. “And of course I’ll come… I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Aemond looks a little hazy then — like a dream. 

And your stomach? Full of stupid butterflies. 

untitled playlist

🎵 the start of something · voxtrot

--

The theme for the competition is Romantic Love. 

Which makes sense since the R’hllor Stone cover artist for the issue that the slam poetry winner will be featured in is the pop darling, Luvie — the stage name of Myrcella Baratheon. 

Yes, the same Myrcella Baratheon who is the daughter of Cersei Lannister. Weirdly enough, the scandal breaking out didn’t affect her career at all. There was a very brief moment that people were making rumors that her and her brothers were really the children of their uncle, Jaime Lannister, and not their late political figure father, Robert Baratheon. But that was squashed rather quickly. It’s impressive. Luvie has got to have the best PR team ever — people did not even realize she was an industry plant and a nepo baby until two years into her career. But then again, her other uncle, Tyrion Lannister, is also the most prolific lawyer of this time. 

Enough about Luvie. If you could, you’d talk about it all day. Probably the worst trait about you — your love for celebrity gossip. You’d eat up a cheating scandal between two married daytime news anchors that committed adultery on their spouses with each other even if you’ve never watched their program even once in your life. 

Besides, you don’t have time to dwell on celeb gossip. With the competition coming up and the days rushing by so quickly, you needed all your free time to focus on writing the piece for it. 

Only problem is, it’s been awfully hard to come up with something. It’s like there is a block in your mind every time you grab a notebook or open up the notes app on your phone.

You already know the main issue for that…

You’ve never been in love before.

Deep infatuation? Sure. 

But love love? Never ever.

And it’s not like you’re a closed off and guarded person. Quite the opposite. You wear your heart on your sleeve. Your love languages are the neediest of the five: physical touch and words of affirmation. You date with the intent of making the relationship become something serious, every single time. And still… nothing. 

“It’s so bad ...!” You groan, scratching out another line on the current poem you’ve been working on for the past two days. You read the whole thing over – all five stanzas already written – and deem the whole poem awful. You turn the page to a blank one, needing to start over all over again. 

When nothing comes after minutes passing, you let out a resigned sigh, slumping on the wooden stool you’re on and say out loud to the room, “I give up. I’m gonna call Melisandre and tell her to pull me out of the competition.”

The only other person in said room with you snorts. You turn to glare at Meera, who meets your gaze for a second with a grin and then continues to water the plants in the room. 

The two of you are at the floral shop Meera works at. You thought a change in scenery would be good for inspiration. Clearly not — not even being surrounded by the flowers that people often associate with love helped with anything.

“I’m serious, Meer!”

“Sure you are…” she playfully indulges with a roll of her eyes. “You’re a little too headstrong to give up that easily.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?!” You cross your arms, pouting to yourself. 

“Cause it’s true,” Meera simply says. She then sets herself at the wooden work table in the back of the room and calls for you to join her. Laying on the table is the ugliest flower you’ve ever seen in your life.

She hands you the little printed out online order sheet. As you read it over, she heads over to the flower buckets to peruse the selections.

“ I request a bouquet with kale, it’s the salad my darling ate on our first date, ” you read out loud, face twisting in disgust after the fact. You eye the purple and green monstrosity on the table, “Ew, how romantic . Does this dude even know how ugly kale is?”

“Probably not,” Meera laughs. She comes back with various bunches of different stems of flowers in her gloved hand. “But I wanted to show you something…”

She picks up the kale first, showing you again. “Horrid, right?”

“Yeah. Ugliest fucker ever.”

Chuckling, Meera starts to trim it. “That may be true, but I need it to be the star of this bouquet and find a way to make it… pleasant on the eyes.”

You hum, nodding as you watch her work.  

“Sometimes… Something good can come from nothing… I didn’t have any particular feelings about ornamental kale before but the more I worked with it… The more inspired I became… and then…”

Meera adds one last sprig of baby’s breath to the arrangement.

“There!”

You are in shock… Somehow, Meera managed to make the kale bouquet beautiful — bringing out the purple with white hydrangeas, baby’s breath, and heather. You would even spend money on it yourself. No wonder Robb always goes to Meera for flowers whenever Margaery is mad at him. You tell her all that yourself.

Meera laughs in thanks, then concludes, “So what I’m trying to say is… Pick a subject. Embellish your feelings a little. You don’t really have to be in love or have been in love to write about it… Do you really think Taylor Swift had real and genuine feelings for the Owl City guy when she wrote the masterpiece that is Enchanted?” 

You gasp, eyes lighting up — everything clearer to you. “Oh my god! You’re so right!” You sniff then, grabbing a hold of her hand and squeezing it, “Meera… You speak Swiftie now.”

She groans, slapping a palm on her forehead. “You, Sansa, Margaery, and Theon have ruined me.”

You giggle a bit, before your face falls to a pout. 

“Who am I supposed to write about though?” You ask with a dramatic and forlorn sigh, going back to your little stool by the cash register.

Meera shrugs, wrapping up the bouquet prettily. “Just someone, anyone… Whoever comes to mind first?”

At her words, you think of a violet eye and a face so taut and sour as if they had just sucked on a lemon.

You laugh to yourself. 

Then your pen hits the paper, and the words begin to flow.

--

 

Aemond arrives at Moon Door Cafe early when there are plenty of empty seats available, but still sticks to the wall at the back of the room. He already caught sight of your friends at a table near the stage and yet he did not make an effort to greet them. It’s not like they’re his friends, he hasn’t even met any of them formally except for Jon. And he does not want to make fake pleasantries with Jon. There’s just something about the guy he does not like.

So he stays at the back of the cafe until the room fills and the lights go down. 

He looks over the pamphlet he was given at the door, and sees that you are the fourth to last to go up out of the 15 contestants. Which means he’ll be here for a while. Aemond frowns in discontent. 

He’s not really much for poetry — he’ll devour any form of literature except poetry. Which is funny, considering he has a few written about him in the form of a song. 

But he supposes after reading a few of yours… Yours weren’t all too terrible. He can ever dare say he likes a few of them.

So that’s the only reason he’s staying… Just to listen. 

He has been curious. He didn’t know you did any spoken poetry, all the ones he has seen of yours were written. But you must have at least some experience with it, one of the requirements for the portfolio was two examples of spoken poetry. 

Aemond wonders if you’d be clamorous, if your words will be punctuated with cheerful sarcasm like always. 

He grins to himself.

And how about the theme? Romantic love… Who did you write about?

His gaze flits to the front of the room at the man with the dark curly hair and unkempt beard and scowls. He watches him smile wide and snap his fingers for the poet on stage. Then suddenly he stands up, clapping and hooting with the rest of his friends. 

That’s when Aemond realizes that you were getting on the stage. He didn’t notice that many performers had gone up already, none of them really held his attention. Until now.

He straightens up a little, snapping his fingers with the rest of the room. 

You walk to the mic, confident. If you hadn’t texted him about how nervous you were earlier when he texted you to ‘Break a leg.’, he would have bought the front you were putting up.  

You’ve already been introduced by Melisandre, so all you have to do now is just go straight into your poem. 

You smile at the crowd, disarming them with your charm, before you take a tentative breath and —

If I could, I'd be your little spoon 

And kiss your fingers forevermore 

But, big spoon, you have so much to do 

And I have nothing ahead of me

There is a song-like cadence to your soft voice, as if you were singing. It draws him in, hanging onto your every word. 

You're the sun, you've never seen the night 

But you hear its song from the morning birds 

Well, I'm not the moon, I'm not even a star 

But awake at night I'll be singing to the birds

Aemond is enraptured. Enchanted. Beguiled.

Don't wait for me, I can't come 

Your mother wouldn't approve of how my mother raised me 

But I do, I think I do

He had no idea that simple poetry could move him like this.

You're the one 

You're all I ever wanted 

I think I'll regret this 

Your stare is fixed, not on anyone. Just a faraway, melancholy gaze on nothing in particular. It makes you look all the more hauntingly beautiful. Aemond finds himself willing you to look at him. 

You don’t.

Your mother wouldn't approve of how my mother raised me

But I do, I finally do

Instead, when you finish, your gaze flicks to the front of the room with a tender smile — at him .

Aemond feels his chest tighten a little. 

The room fills with loud snapping as you descend the stage, and once your feet hit the floor, you are being lifted at the waist and hugged tight by Jon Snow. 

Aemond watches on bitterly for a couple more seconds, expression pinching at the way Jon joyfully spins the two of you around, then turns to leave.

He waits at the front of the cafe for his chauffeur, tapping his foot impatiently on the ground.

“You’re really leaving without congratulating me?”

Aemond wets his mouth indignantly. He knew he should have texted Podrick to meet him earlier.

“You haven’t won yet,” Is all Aemond says as he turns to look at you, a smirk curling his lips.

You glare at him, arms crossing against your chest.

“Gods. Are you always such a dick? I know I haven’t won yet… I don’t even think I will win. I meant just… congratulating me for even putting myself up there,” you frown, looking off to the side, trying to blink away the hurt. 

Seven Hells , Aemond sighs, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He just can’t seem to keep his mouth shut, can he? He always has a penchant to make everything worse.

Stuffing his hands into his coat pockets, Aemond takes a step towards you. “You were… Amazing up there,” You eye him warily, disbelieving, so he continues, “I mean it… You got me hanging onto your every word. Congrats.”

“Thanks…” You murmur from the corner of your mouth, bashful. It was your turn then to take a step towards him, still glowering at him when you say, “But you didn’t even say hi, and now you’re trying to leave without even saying goodbye.” 

“My apologies. I didn’t want to keep you from celebrating with your boyfriend ,” Aemond says, tone clipped.

Did you hear that right, Aemond thinks you have a — “Boyfriend…?”

“You and Jon are dating, aren’t you?”

You’d laugh if it wasn't so ridiculous. “No! Jon’s dating Sansa! And besides that, he’s just my best friend. Wait a second… Did you think we’re dating cause he’s my roommate ?”

“No, but…” Aemond shakes his head, unable to grasp what you are telling him. He already made this whole story up in his head. “You fancy him, don’t you?”

“No!” You almost gag at the thought. Because, ew. 

“You don’t have to lie to me, ___,” Aemond scoffs, taking another step towards you. “You find him attractive, don’t you?”

“I mean…” You think about it for a second. Jon’s your best friend and you’ve never had romantic feelings for him, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have eyes! And besides, even if you didn’t find Jon attractive, you’re not about to bash his looks for no reason at all. “Have you seen the guy?”

“I have and I’m not impressed,” Aemond tuts with a roll of his eye.

“Maybe it’s because you only have one eye?” The rhetorical question slips from your mouth before you could even stop it. 

You are frozen as Aemond’s mouth drops slightly before it closes to press into a hard thin line. He is mad, and understandably so.  

“Wait, Aemond, I didn’t mean it like th—”

“So how did you mean it?” In an instant, he is in front of you, nostrils flared. His violet eye alight with a simmering burning, “So I guess it’s because I only have one eye that I find you attractive?” 

Your gaze widens and your cheeks are burning up. Did he just…?

That’s when you notice that Aemond looks just as shocked. But only for a second. If he had not meant to say that aloud, the blank look he puts on carefully hides it well. It is the flush high on his cheekbones and the heavy rise and fall of his chest that gives him away though.

You look up at him, keenly aware of his proximity. A warmth spreads through you at how much he towers over you. He can definitely manhandle you in the way that you like. And the way his domineering gaze pinned you to the spot makes you desperately long for him to pin you against a wall instead. 

You start to laugh. Loud at that. 

Because you realize an undeniable truth…

You want him. Gods. You want Aemond Targaryen. 

Even more now that you know he wants you as well.

The admittance makes you laugh more. 

And so, with no preamble at all and just straight to the point, you ask him—

“Do you want to go on a date with me?”

Aemond stares at you like you’re insane. 

Then, as if without any doubt in his mind, he says — yes. 

a.t.

🎵 there’s a light that never goes out · the smiths

--

Even though you were the one to ask him out, Aemond offers to plan the date. 

You didn’t mind. Between school, work, and stressing about the results of the competition, you were just going to take him to the movies. Which, looking back now, is lame; and you highly doubt you’ll get a second date if you forced Aemond to sit through a movie about a killer AI doll.

So you let him take the reins — surprise me , you told him with a wink after letting him know which days the next two weeks that you’d be free.  

Four days after the competition, Aemond surprises you — or maybe more so Theon, who screams out girlishly when Aemond appeared directly behind him when the silver haired man approached you and your friends during lunch in the southern building cafeteria. 

Theon still has his hand over his heart, halfway off the bench, but Aemond disregards him to tell you, “I’ll pick you up at 4 tomorrow for our date. Be sure to be ready.”

Then he saunters off. 

“He’s so intense… it’s kinda sexy,” Margaery says.

Your other friends admit their agreement in various degrees of reluctance as you all watch Aemond’s back retreating until he is out of the room.

“Where do you think he’s going to take you?” Sansa asks eagerly, leaning on the table to get closer to you.

You give her an exaggerated shrug as an answer just as Theon comments, “Probably somewhere so fun… The library!”

You successfully shove him off the bench he is still precariously on. He lands on his ass on the floor but he is guffawing at his own joke. 

“Nah… He’ll definitely take her to the fanciest restaurant in the Vale, book it all out so it’s just the two of them, and then confess he’s been in love with her since they were 14,” Meera says with a scrunch of her nose. “Real straight people shit.”

“Oh, I know where he’ll take her,” Robb says, straightening up confidently for everyone’s attention. “Into the forest, where there will be a clearing, and then he’ll rip off his shirt to show ____ that he… sparkles.”

Your friends start howling with laughter at that, so loud that students from other tables turn to look. You’re laughing too, but quieter, pouting with both your hands pressed on your face from embarrassment. 

“You’re all awful!” You moan. “And you know what?! Maybe I want him to be Edward Cullen, maybe then I can tell him to drain the blood of all my “so-called” best friends!” 

“Have fun playing baseball in the forest tomorrow, then,” Jon teases, causing your friends to laugh more.

Sweeping a glare at all of them, you bite out, “I. will. Thank you!”

--

From Aemond

— Please dress warm and comfortably.

As you read the new text while you are getting ready for the date, a shiver goes down your spine.

Oh Gods.  

He is taking you to a forest, isn’t he?

If Aemond is a vampire, you wouldn’t be surprised. But you have seen him growing up, so maybe not. 

You groan, shoving off the silky dress you had wanted to wear. It’s so pretty, but you doubt that it will be comfortable or warm enough for a trek through the woods.

So you settle with a white turtleneck under a red cardigan, dark blue jeans, a Sherpa lined shearling leather jacket, and broken-in Docs. 

Comfortable, warm, and cute. 

You grin at your reflection through the mirror just as you receive another text. 

From Aemond

— I’m waiting downstairs. 

After giving yourself another once over and grabbing your purse for the day, you text back:

To Aemond

— coming ☺️ !!!

When you step out of your room, three pairs of eyes turn your way, ignoring the Super Smash Bros round they’re playing to annoy you all the way out the door with their comments and shiteating grins.  

“You look pretty, ___!” 

“Thanks Jon!”

“Have fun and use protection!”

“Take your own advice, Robb!”

“Say hi to your boyfie for us!”

You roll your eyes, shutting the door behind you, catching the last thing Theon says, “Look! She didn’t even deny it!”

Usually, you’d take the stairs down. Your unit is on the fifth floor (the highest of the building) so it’s not so bad. But you didn’t want to look winded before the date even starts, so the terrifyingly unreliable elevator it is. 

Luckily, by the grace of the Sevens, you didn’t get stuck. So you’re a little too chipper when you find Aemond waiting at the lobby — especially since he looks so incredibly handsome in his long black wool coat, cream fisherman sweater, black fitted slacks, and a pair of black leather Chelsea boots. 

Maybe it’s a trick of the light, but he seems pleasantly delighted when he sees you. Nothing overt, but it’s definitely a change from how he used to be when you got near him before. You remember always sniffing yourself when you were teens, because he acted like you had the strongest BO. You didn’t, you smelled like fresh laundry and maybe on your worst days, fresh cut grass and the sun since you spent a lot of time outdoors when at the Arryn mansion. 

You walk to Aemond, and he unclasps his hands from where he held them behind his back to turn fully towards you. 

As a greeting, you reach up to wrap your arms around his neck that was wrapped in a soft alpaca wool grey scarf. 

You can tell Aemond is not used to physical affection by the way he stiffens against you —just  like the last time. But you hold on a little longer, liking the bergamot and amberwood smell that lingers on him. 

Just when you think you aren't going to get anything back, about to let him go; you feel his arms wrap around your waist. A little loose, enough that when you step back you are easily free from his hold, but it’s a start. 

You beam up at him, and he holds your gaze for a bit before he looks off to the side, his cheeks a light scarlet. It’s adorable that he is so easily flustered. 

He clears his throat then gives you a glance over. “You look… warm.” He gives a nod of approval. “Good.”

“But do I look…” With a mischievous smile, you poke at his stomach, “… attractive?”

His face darkens to a deeper maroon, pressing his lips together. “You’re really going to hold that over my head, aren’t you?”

“Uh-huh,” you tell him a toothy grin. Stuffing your hands into your coat pockets, you start to slowly rock back and forth from your heels to your toes as you sing-song your own confession, “If it makes you feel better… I think you look really good today… My jaw nearly fell to the floor when I saw you.”

Aemond’s hand flies to press against his mouth, coughing into his palms. He might be choking, you have no idea. But you’re sure if he wasn’t blushing before, he would be tomato red right now.  

He takes a shaky breath, regarding you as his hand falls back to his side. “How are you always this straightforward?”

You shrug with your mouth downturned. “I have no filter sometimes.”

Aemond lets out an amused huff. At least you know. 

His gaze falls over you again, flickering across your features in quiet contemplation for a moment or two. 

“You look lovely.”

At his soft tone, your breathing hitches and your mouth slightly parts. He tracks the slow movement, wetting his own lips. 

But he does not even give you time to respond, turning to glare at the door to change the subject, “I drove here. Are you alright with taking my car or do I need Podrick to pick it up?”

“I’m not anti-car, or anything. We can drive there,” you tell him with no joking lilt or sassiness in your tone, just even. Perhaps still a bit stunned at his compliment.

“Could have fooled me,” Aemond says, chuckling lightheartedly, his fingers touching the metrocard in his pocket. It’s new. You had dragged him to the nearest bus station after his fourth time riding on one with you. You were beyond exasperated of seeing him stuff a ten or twenty dollar bill into the fare slot since he never has any change or anything smaller for the £3 fare. He has used it quite a lot already, and always only with you, realizing just then how often the two of you have been spending time together.

“Let’s go?” He asks, cocking his head to the door. 

When you nod, Aemond presses his hand against the small of your back, leading you outside.

The heat of his palm has you flushing and your stomach doing somersaults, even long after he has taken it off you to hold the door open for you to get into his cream Volvo P1800 S Coupe.

You haven’t felt this nervous for a date in quite a while — and you don’t know whether that’s a good thing or bad thing yet.

--

Aemond has the prettiest hands. 

Delicate and dainty, yet also spans big and strong. Not to mention the veins that run along his hands are mouthwateringly attractive, bulging whenever he grips the leather steering wheel. 

He could be a musician if he wanted — or a hand model. You’re sure he’d have a million Twitter fan accounts dedicated to just his hands alone. 

Maybe you should have let Aemond drive you around all those times he had offered. 

He looks so effortlessly cool as he spins the wheel with just the palm of his hands, checks the rear view mirror, and keeps his concentration on the road. 

You have not stopped staring at him. 

Maybe you should stop because he is starting to notice. His gaze flickers to the side at you  every so often with that usual low humming sound he makes. 

In an effort to distract yourself, you lean forward to turn on the radio. 

How did you make it so long without music playing in the background?

Oh right. You were too busy admiring Aemond to notice anything else. 

The speaker starts blaring and it’s no surprise that Aemond’s stereo system is only of the highest quality. A sweet, melodic voice resounds in the compact space. 

— say, "I'm done," but I'm still confused,

How am I supposed to close the door when I still need the closure?

And I change my mind, but it's still on you,

How am I supposed to leave you now —

Aemond is so quick to turn it off that your mouth parts slightly in mild shock.

“We’re here,” is what he says when you glance over at him, and he is pulling his car onto a parking spot beside the curb of a cobblestones sidewalk. 

You let out a laugh, “Oh my god. I was about to ask what did Luvie do to you by how aggressively you turned off the radio!”

“My bad,” he says with a wan grin before getting out of his car. 

He’s at your side of the car, opening the door, before you even get the seatbelt off. 

“Thanks,” you say, taking his hand to step out. While Aemond pays for parking, you take a look around at where he brought you for the date. 

Elation spreads through you as you take in the quaint area with the brick warehouse buildings, pretty stringed lights hanging from street lamps to street lamps, and all beautiful street art spray painted on the walls. It’s the Distillery Village, a hip part of the city just a bit a ways away from the heart of downtown Vale. 

You used to love going here when you were younger. But now, not so much. It’s still beautiful there, but it has become a hot date spot for young couples over the years. And it’s not like you really had any partners that you had gotten serious enough to want to take there, less they ruin your fond memories of the place.

You remember going here a few times with the Targaryen family. You wonder if Aemond remembers that too.

“Ready?” Aemond asks, walking towards you.

Smiling, you nod, your hand reaching to catch a hold of two of his fingers.

Aemond pulls away, making your heart stutter dolefully — only for him to intertwine his fingers between yours, his hold firm yet gentle. You flutter your lashes at him, questioning, and he shrugs. “More comfortable this way.”

The two of you walk around like that, hand in hand and with a cup of coffee in the other.

(Aemond ordered for you. He has your latte order perfected now, and you have his. You had him pegged as a Sunspearino kind of guy – black with no sugar – but surprisingly, Aemond has a sweet tooth. He likes his cappuccino with two pumps of caramel.)

You are having a nice time with Aemond. Window shopping, trying out desserts from every cute spot you pass, taking time to admire all the art in the area.

Maybe it’s his hands holding yours, but your nerves eased quickly and you are back to your old self in no time. 

Perhaps too comfortable. You are talking Aemond’s ear off about the fluffiness of the cream puff the two of you just had, when you realize he hasn’t said much in the past few minutes. So you abruptly stop to glance wearily towards Aemond, somewhat afraid that you are boring or annoying him with your incessant yapping, but you find his fond gaze already on you.

“I’m glad you’re back to being yourself again,” Aemond says, still leading you on the cobblestone path. “I was worried earlier. You were too quiet in the car.”

“I was nervous!” You confess a bit too shrilly.

“Oh?” The light smile that was on Aemond’s face twists into a cocky smirk. “Do I make you nervous, ____?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “ Was nervous… Past-tense, Aemond.”

The smirk is still on his lips when he replies with a playful and disbelieving mmhmm .

You turn away, laughing to yourself. You’re happy that he is joking around with you more, it makes you feel that the two of you are really starting to get closer.

You end up stopping at the busiest part of the village, where most couples and families conjugate at the plaza square, sitting on the steps that surround a huge reflecting pool. In the warmer months, the shallow pool is a pretty fountain to look at for outdoor picnics; but in the winter, it is frozen over as a skating rink. 

Leaning your arms against the railing that surrounds the top of the steps, you watch the ice skaters with stars in your eyes.

You had once wanted to be a professional figure skater because of Val, the Free Folk figure skater that stole the heart of the entire nation when you were younger, when she competed and won all the singles figure skating titles during her first Harrenhal Winter Games. 

Your father even paid for ice skating lessons after you begged your parents for weeks to learn. You were over the moon, telling everyone who would listen about it, about how you are going to be the next Val. Your dreams were crushed after a certain 16 year old teenage boy scoffed, “No, you won’t.’ when he overheard you telling his sister.

Remembering this, you whip your head to glare at your date.

Aemond startles at your sudden heated expression, eye widening.

“Do you… Want to go skating?” He asks, unsure.

You turn your nose up at him, grimacing. “Yes. I do.”

--

Now you truly remember why you didn’t become the next top figure skater and quit your lessons after the 4th class… You sucked at it. 

For some reason, your body does not agree with the skates. You’re always off-kilter, that you spent the first ten minutes clutching onto the railings instead of skating.

Aemond, on the other hand, is a natural on the ice — so graceful it’s envious. If you did not know he is from the south, he would have definitely earned the title of ‘Ice Prince’ this way like some sort of Northern Royalty.  

He watches as your wobbly legs try to catch up to him in mirthful silence. The bastard looks like he is going to burst out laughing at any given second.

With brows furrowed together, he asks, “Didn’t you take lessons?”

“I quit after four classes…” You tell him through clenched teeth, shaky arms out in front of you to keep your balance.

“Why?” Is the asshole’s next question.

Burning him with a glare that can rival a thousand suns, you wave your hands from your head to your waist, presenting him yourself, shaking precariously like a newborn giraffe. The motion has you slipping and hurriedly catching yourself with a choked out ‘ whoa!’ . You don’t even know how that happened — you are not even moving!

And that did it, Aemond couldn’t hold it in anymore, he laughs so hard that he is throwing his head back. 

You sneer at him, and it makes him laugh more.

“I’m — I’m s– so sorry,” he tries, but he is still laughing, so it doesn’t feel very genuine to you. If you could cross your arms, you would. But that would throw you off your balance more, so you just give him a stink face, nose scrunched and mouth pursed in distaste for his lack of common courtesy.

“You’re such an as–” Suddenly, you are slipping again except you couldn’t steady yourself fast enough. But before you could hit the ground, Aemond swiftly wraps his arms around you and catches you. So easily, like he had at the party. 

You straighten up quickly, still embarrassed, muttering a thank you under your breath. “You’re still an asshole though.”

Aemond licks his lips, lets out a laugh and nods briefly in acceptance. “Let me make it up to you.”

Aemond takes both your hands in his, and then carefully, he helps you get your footing right, skating backwards as he guides you along the ice. It takes a while, but you think you are getting a hang of it. It’s unbelievable but half an hour with Aemond has taught you more than those 4 lessons you took. 

Soon enough, he is only holding one of your hands, skating by your side.

“I guess I’m a better ice skating teacher than you are a dancing instructor,” Aemond declares pompously. 

That has you snorting in an unattractive manner. “So you admit you suck at dancing?”

Aemond huffs out a chuckle, walking right into that one.

The turns are the trickiest parts. And as soon as you saw the edge of the rink coming up, you nervously fuck up your footing. Nothing too bad since the two of you were skating at a rather slow pace, but it did cause Aemond to pick up his speed a little so he can turn for you to crash against his chest, his arms wrapping around your waist.

In his warm embrace, you peer up at him under fluttering lashes. Aemond is already looking down at you with a hooded gaze. He has you feeling breathless and flushed. 

You have his rapt attention when your pink tongue peeks out to lick your lips in anticipation. 

You don’t notice him leaning in though, not when you feel something wet and cold touch your forehead. 

Looking up, that’s when you notice it, the fluffy white snowflakes falling from the clear blue sky. It is the first snowfall of the year.

You let out an elated laugh, smiling wide, lifting a hand to catch a snowflake on your fingertips.

Aemond then gently grabs your chin between his thumb and forefinger, bringing your attention back at him.

You let out a soft, little gasp.

He is staring at you like you are something so precious. There is so much fondness in his violet eye that your heart feels like it's going to burst with happiness.

Then as if in slow motion, you watch as a tiny, pretty snowflake lands on the dip of his lower lip.

You lean up to melt it against yours as well.

With a pleased hum, Aemond’s hold on your waist tightens, while his hand on your chin slides back to cradle your neck, kissing you deeper. He has your mouth parting with a moan, and his tongue slips in easily. He tastes like caramel, espresso, and vanilla; so addicting in a way that you think you can definitely get used to this. 

Aemond’s mouth on yours has you lifting up your foot behind you, like you’re a princess in a cheesy romantic comedy. Embarrassingly giddy as if he is the first and only boy you had ever kissed. 

And when you feel him smile against your lips, you start wishing that he’ll at least be the last. 

a.t. 💗

🎵  to you · mallrat

[writer-freak]

Gossiping | Hazbin x reader

Characters: Alastor, Rosie, Vox, Lucifer, Angel Dust, Husk, Cherri Bomb and Velvette

Warnings: gn reader, can be seen as either platonic or romantic for most of these characters, is probably messy and characters could be ooc, english isn't my first language, maybe I will clean this up one day

A/n: Not really that happy with this and wrote this today to take my mind off things but I was thinking about who has the most tea to share in hell and this is how I ended up writing this. Also as a fellow aroace person, I'm probably gonna start writing some platonic Alastor fics.

Alastor:

Doesn't really spill tea himself that often but if he does expect it to be really hot

He often gossips with Rosie though it is mostly her who has something to talk about

So he really is used to listening to someone talking about the drama around hell

And actually, Alastor enjoys some good gossip especially if he can use that information to his advantage

He usually has these gossip sessions with you over a good cup of tea with some low jazz playing in the background

It also isn't unusual for you to go over to Rosie's to invite her into your gossip session

Rosie:

Rosie is the queen of gossip in cannibal town, knowing everything juicy about everyone around

She loves inviting you over to her place for some good tea and pinky fingers to snack on while you exchange drama

Rosie is really interested in others' lives so usually people are just open with her which is why she has so much information about everyone

While she really enjoys gossiping she also is a really good listener and can keep a secret if you need her to

Vox:

Not really that interested in gossip that is more Velvettes kind of thing

But he does try to stay up to date with some people (mainly Alastor) though that is usually as far as his interest in gossip goes

But he can actually tell you some juicy information as he has cameras all around the Pride ring 

But it will not really be a real gossip session as he just isn't that interested in drama 

If you ask he may tell you some things but it will probably be very brief 

So not really a gossiper even though he has a lot of information about people all around Pride

But this only applies to personal gossip everything looks completely different if he can use it on one of his broadcasts 

Drama from famous people around hell is great to get in viewers and sometimes if you really beg him to he will tell you some information before the official broadcast

But I wouldn't be surprised if he told you to just watch the show to hear what is going on

Lucifer:

He doesn't seem overtly interested in gossip especially if we look at the other characters 

But I think he just enjoys talking to you in general so if you have some interesting drama to tell him about he would listen attentively 

He would probably forget everyone's name in your gossip session and you would constantly have to explain to him again who was who

You two probably have these conversations in his suite, you two just chilling together maybe cuddling a bit while you watch something on the TV

Something happens in the show that reminds you of some gossip that you heard about and you need to tell all the details to Lucifer

Angel Dust:

Angel Dust is probably always in the know about the latest gossip and scandals

He just sees quite a bit of stuff on social media and I also wouldn't be surprised if he hears some stuff around the V tower

Also sometimes he hears some things from people he flirts or hooks up with

You two would probably be in his room to gossip just chilling on his bed doing some skincare

Him painting your nails while exchanging anything that you have picked up since your last gossip session

How he tells you about stuff is just so engaging and he also just loves to hear what kind of tea you have

For him, this really is good quality time and just loves spending his downtime with you like this

Husk:

Husk hears so much stuff while at the bar from the hotel's residents

So this is also usually where you tell him about some of the latest hot gossip going on around hell

While Husk has quite a lot of information about the other residents of the hotel he doesn't really wanna tell on them so usually he doesn't add much to these sessions

He is just more the listening guy and doesn't participate in spreading

He will listen to you and if you have something more serious to discuss he is a great person

He just lends you a non-judgmental ear and you can confide in him 

And you know that he doesn't tell anyone about what you tell him

Cherri Bomb:

Cherri Bomb is someone who loves stirring up trouble but I don't think she is that strong of a gossiper

Or at least she isn't really that dedicated to it

With how you two mostly meet up to go out and get fucked up that is also when you exchange some gossip

Like hell yeah she will listen but it's not really something that interests her in the long run

And she is usually drunk or on drugs (but probably both to be honest) 

So don't really expect her to remember everything you told her if you want to update her on something

For her, it's mostly one ear in and out the other 

But that is really only for random people that she doesn't care about 

If it is one of her friends or if you have some trouble she will try to be more attentive and actually help you out

Even if she is high as a kite she would never leave a friend hanging

Velvette :

Velvette usually knows everything about the drama going on online

She really enjoys gossiping and it isn't unusual for her to call you up if she has something particularly juicy

Often invites you over to her place so you two can chill with some food and talk about all the shit going on around you

Wouldn't be surprising that if you two are close she also tells you about insider tea going on around the V tower 

However, she has to trust you that you won't share anything that could actually harm the V's

Even if you tried to spread something about them it wouldn't go far

Divider: @thecutestgrotto

[demonslayedher]

If sanmei and kanae had a baby How do you think their kid would act? And how would the other hashira take the news? And how would this change sanemi and shinobu’s character arcs?(assuming kanae still died to douma)

This Ask started so cute and then turned so evil.

Well, let's get into how this all plays out.

If the baby picks up much from their personalities, then when growing up, it probably takes protecting others pretty seriously. How nicely the child goes about doing so probably depends on how desperate of circumstances they were exposed to (though I cannot imagine anyone in charge of caring for the baby would want to let anything happen).

Although I think the other Hashira would be happy for them, natural interest and curiosity about the baby might vary. For instance, Himejima might give Kanae some guilt about not retiring but be resigned to her choices and would probably decline spending time with the baby due to past trauma. Giyuu would probably be intensely curious but because he does not explain his staring (and desire to hold the baby), Sanemi gets protective and keeps the baby away from him. Shinjuro might go off on them about how they brought a child into the world just to orphan it. Uzui probably chides them a bit for being irresponsible but might quietly have the most faith in them to be able to handle it and know what they're doing.

Shinobu would probably go off on Kanae for being irresponsible but of course be the one to take over a lot of care for the baby. The other Butterfly Mansion girls also help. Shinobu might chew Sanemi out for this but begrudingly allow him in to "take responsibility" as he is indeed frustratingly talented at childcare. So with that forming the core of Shinobu and Sanemi's frenemy co-childcare relationship, that means that once Kanae dies, they have to formalize their share of co-parenting. Between the two of them, Sanemi is probably more warm and sweet to the baby (with only the Butterfly Mansion girls around, he could swing being a family man), but Shinobu--who has made up her mind to avenge her sister even if it means dying--might be nice and all, but more resistant to forming a bond. She can't have the child looking at her as another mother figure to lose, after all.

By the time Tanjiro comes around, baby Shinazugawa is probably a happily adjusted small child with free reign of the mansion to go around and stare at all the nursingvwork going on, and once Tanjiro plays with the kid, the kid is probably always beamibg and expecting the Kamaboko boys to play (for good measure, Shinobu might initially keep Nezuko at a distance, but Nezuko is eventually just as much of a playmate).

This would also mean that when Tanjiro follows an an oddly familiar scent one day he walks in on Sanemi having daddy time, and Sanemi would instantly change his demeanor once he's been spotted (baby probably isn't bothered, though).

Shinobu perhaps secretly lets Genya have uncle time too, which brings out Genya's soft side instantly. Shinobu might use her leverage in the baby care relationship to guilt Sanemi into caring more openly for his brother too.

The few occasions when Uzui has seen the child, he makes funny faces that make the kid laugh. Giyuu tried this once and the kid cried.

Himajima still generally avoids interaction with the child but politely inquires how the child is sometimes. Muichiro doesn't care but has had the child on his lap sometimes. Child gets regular visits to Oyakata-sama, like taking a child to see their grandparent. Iguro met Sanemi after Kanae's death so guilty Sanemi for irresponsibility doesn't cross his mind, he merely inquires how the kid is sometimes and takes Sanemi's side if Sanemi ever has complaints about Shinobu's parenting methods. Mitsuri hates being a bother but is always looking for excuses to invite herself over to the Butterfly Mansion to play. The baby met Rengoku once and loved him.

Prior to the final battle, when Shinobu explains the poison plan to Kanao, the baby is napping on her lap. Shinobu admits she has always planned to entrust the child to Kanao and Aoi and the others and wants Kanao to do her best to survive. During the final battle, Sanemi thoughts for his child help push him through, and on the edge of the afterlife, his mother insists he goes back to raise the child who gives her hope for the future.

After all is said and done, Shinazugawa becomes the child's primary caretaker. In a peaceful world, maybe the baby's personality winds up taking after Kanae most after all.

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

🗡️ Something Dread, Something Red: Chapter Fifteen

Something Dread, Something Red: Stuck in a proposal to a Marine Commodore, you escape minutes before your wedding in one last ditch effort to avoid getting married to a tyrant. Barely making it to the port of your town, you stumble across a ship just starting to leave and beg for passage off the island. You fail to notice that the people you beg for help, are pirates.

Warnings: None?

To Note: “Red Haired” Shanks x FemReader

Word Count: ~2.6k

Previous | Masterlist | Next

The sun was shining so brightly this morning as you walked side by side with Shanks through the local public garden. Your eyes were spared from the harsh rays by the rim of your hat, but Shanks hadn’t brought one. That hardly seemed to bother the man though, he was walking along side you, red hair illuminated and skin dusted with morning sunlight. It was unfair that all Shanks had to do to look incredible was exist.

“Something wrong?” Shanks asked, picking up on the pinched face you made for but a mere millisecond before removing it. You were good at controlling your facial expressions, but he was learning how to read you before you managed to reign in those expressions. You let out a short breath before tilting your head back to look at him without your face being blocked by the rim of your hat.

“Men have it so easy at times,” You spoke in leisurely annoyance. “All you have to do is roll about of bed and voila! You look like you’ve spent hours getting ready when in fact you’ve only just wiped the drool from your mouth.” Shanks grinned at your words and hidden pout for a few moments before looping his arm through yours.

“Come now Aria, you’ve never met Doflamingo, now there’s a guy that takes his sweet time getting ready. Mihawk spends at least an hour each day trimming his beard and moisturizing his skin, and Buggy probably spends at least half the day touching up his face paint.” Shanks reassured you. “They are far more high maintenance than you will ever be.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that you barely have to put any effort in to look frustratingly handsome.” You huffed out, turning your gaze to look at some butterflies fluttering around a batch of orange butterfly weed. “Do you know how infuriating that is?”

“Apologies, treasure,” Shanks echoed, looking at your face in fondness. “How shall I remedy that?”

“Oh don’t bother, I rather like having something to look at,” You sighed dramatically, leaning into his side. He chuckled at your words, for they most definitely were an ego boost, and led you towards a particularly nice bed of flowers. You preened over the beautiful blooms, pointing at different flowers and calling out their names and meanings. “… probably spent far too much time reading books on the flower language when I will most likely never need to use that information.” You sighed.

Your companion, closely watching the emotions flicker across your face, made a mental note to buy a book on the flower language. It was clearly something you were fascinated in, but never had the chance to utilize. Shanks had vague notions on what the flower language was, but loved to hear to speak so animatedly, so he directed you towards part of the garden dedicated to tulips. A rainbow of them to be precise.

“I’ve heard something about certain colors of roses having meanings,” He spoke to you, hoping that tulips were the same for he would not subject you to the garden of roses. “Are tulips the same?” Your face brightened and you beamed at Shanks, instantly making the pirate return the smile. Just what he wanted, you smiling and happy.

“Oh! Quite so! So most flowers that have color variations have different meanings, like the purple tulip means royalty, because the color purple was one of the most expensive dyes to obtain for clothing…” You continued speaking animatedly, pointing at different beds of colorful tulips and explaining the history behind the meaning of the color and clearly enjoying yourself.

It had taken some convincing to draw you away from the gardens on Shanks’ behalf. You knew quite a bit about plants as it were and more than happy to babble away as you walked, attached to his side like you belonged there (you most certainly did in the eyes of everyone who saw you). Now led towards the market, your lips only pinched in slight distaste for what was to come because you, after all, had promised that he was allowed to buy you one present. Regretfully you hadn’t told him a Berry limit for that item. He could very well buy you a ship of your own!

At least you had a feeling that he wouldn’t do something so outrageous, but small things could be just as costly. You sighed to yourself, and leaned against Shanks’ side chiding yourself for fretting over something so silly and menial when you were supposed to be enjoying your day. Shanks eyed your partially covered face.

“Something wrong?”

“Do try to be reasonable, dear,” You replied airily and with a tone of exasperation. “I don’t need to be carting around an entire crate of baubles.”

“Right, I’ll remove the crate of baubles from my shopping list,” Shanks chuckled lightly. “Perhaps I shall focus on something more sensible… perhaps a ship or a house—”

“No, no,” You cut him off. “I will be stopping you right there, Shanks.” You gave his arm a threatening squeeze, which to him was hardly threatening and felt like a tickle to be honest. “I would rather you pick something meaningful and something I can treasure to look back upon this day in fond memory.”

“So that’s a no on the manor for sale just up the hill?” The pirate cheekily asked, grinning at the small glare he received from beneath the rim of your hat. “I’m only jesting, treasure, stop scowling at me, the manor wasn’t a terrible idea…” You snorted, having a vague memory of a similar conversation months past.

“No, it was a terrible one,” You fired back with a sly smile. “You know I can’t be bought.” He returned your smile, giving you that crooked smile of his that you loved so much.

“On the contrary, madam, you are deserving of only the best.” Shanks countered, already mulling over ideas of what he could get you in his head.

“I should have given you a Berry limit,” You half heartedly griped before turning your attention back to the stalls you and Shanks were strolling by. There were a lot of goods you liked to admire, but held no really value in buying to you, certainly when you temporarily lived on a pirate ship… yet roaming stall to stall you found great satisfaction and fulfillment walking about arm in arm.

You paused in front of a stall selling hand made scarfs and preened over the patterns found and intricate stitch work. Shanks had to blink his way through a rapid session of you and the shopkeep discussing stitch techniques and embroidery thread. He of course, had absolutely no idea what the words coming from your mouth meant, but he was more than happy to see you speaking with someone outside the crew with such an animated smile on your face.

He wanted to keep it that way.

It was a great surprise when you actually pulled out a stack of Berry and bought several spools of thread, a package of fresh needles, one embroidery hoop, and a few yards of different colored fabrics. You had a talent for mending clothing as he and the men had long since found out, but Shanks wanted to see something you made for enjoyment rather than need.

“Should I assume that I shall finally see an example of your catch stitch?” Shanks offered with a smile as you slid the cloth bag of your newly bought supplies onto your free arm. You gave the red haired man a raised eyebrow.

“Don’t be silly, I’m not hemming. This is for embroidery.” You corrected him. Shanks laughed, lips twitching at the corner. “If you want an example just look at Limejuice’s new pants. I hemmed them last week.”

“Forgive me for not know the difference between embroidery and hemming.”

“You are forgiven, my love,” You flippantly replied, dragging Shanks to the next stall to fuss over tea blends currently on display. As airily as you had spoken those words, certainly with a touch of matched sarcasm, Shanks couldn’t help but bask in your spoken words like a lovesick fool. To have you this unguarded and playful was a privilege itself! While Shanks gazed unabashedly down at your partially covered face, you let your eyes wander the market.

It was entirely coincidental, but what caught your gaze was the jewelers stall with its glimmering stones and metal. You unconsciously pulled Shanks in that direction, your eyes brightening at the sight of beautiful rubies sparkling beneath the sun. Now you weren’t interested in any more ruby necklaces, you treasured the one that currently hung around your neck most dearly… but you had been on the lookout for a pair of earrings.

Earrings weren’t exactly on your top list of concerns while at sea, but you were interested in maintaining your pierced ears and still wished to hold at least the bare minimum in clothing and jewelry. One never knew when the need might arise to dress formally. You also really liked the way the sunlight illuminated gemstones so beautifully. Especially the rubies. The fire that burned in the little jewels warmed your heart and reminded you of the very man at your side.

“This is the last place I expected you to stop at,” Shanks chuckled in amusement, watching you carefully eye the different shaped earrings on display.

“A fair assumption,” You murmured, eyes sliding between studded earrings and dangling ones. “I’ve come to decide that with a necklace as beautiful as the one currently hanging around my neck, I should have a pair of earrings to match as well.”

“Welcome madam, sir,” The jeweler greeted, “I hear you are interested in acquiring a pair of earrings?”

“Yes we are,” Shanks replied, moving his hand to your back to prompt you. “Aria?”

“I am looking for a pair of ruby drop earrings that match the one I am wearing,” You spoke, touching the warm ruby hanging from your throat. “Something casual but would still be appropriate in a formal setting.” The jeweler nodded in understand and thought for a few moments, studying the ruby you wore.

It was of the highest quality and clarity, clearly a triple A, the cut was oval, 58 cuts, and the metal used just as high quality. He hummed to himself and reached down beneath his stall to take the case of ruby earrings with his best rubies. Placing it on the counter, the jeweler shuffled a few earrings around until what you had requested was front and center.

“Perhaps one of these may catch your eye?” Oh they most certainly did, but you also felt a bit overwhelmed. Certainly given the fact that you had never been allowed to select your own jewelry. Picking something out would prove to be quite difficult, especially when you didn’t know what looked good on your or not. You turned your head to look at Shanks.

“May I borrow your eyes?” Shanks’ eyes glimmered with mirth and his eyebrow rose, a tease poised on his tongue.

“I don’t know how much use you will get out of my eyes, madam, when you have perfectly working ones but if you insist…” You let out a short huff, smacked his chest with your hand, and rolled your own.

“You are well aware of what I mean, Shanks, take that smirk off your face and help.” You chastised half heartedly before taking a closer look at the earrings. Chuckling for a for few more moments, Shanks turned his gaze from your lovely face to the ruby earrings. The rubies did indeed match the one hanging around your neck. It all came down to the design. While you would look incredible in any design, even the ostentatious ones, you had a dislike for the frivolous and wanted something that could be used for many different purposes. He found a pair that would look quite nice with your necklace and took one to hold up to your ear.

“What about this one?” He asked, admiring how you looked with the ruby near your ear. “I think you look radiant, what do you think?”

“Well that is the problem,” You sighed, looking yourself in the mirror the jeweler held up. “I’ve never chosen my own jewelry so I don’t know what I like or dislike.”

“Just pick something you like on you, that’s all that matters, Aria.” Shanks replied, switching out the earring for the next one. Holding it up, he nodded to the mirror. You looked to the mirror and chewed on your lip. It looked nice, but perhaps wasn’t quite your style? Between the jeweler and Shanks, you narrowed the earrings down to a pair that your eyes kept going back to. The pattern on the metal matched your necklace and the ruby really did look nice with the one you already owned. “There, see? Wasn’t so hard.”

“Not hard?” You huffed, raising your eyebrow and giving Shanks an unimpressed look. “Dear, you have no idea how many tea parties I have attended whose soul purpose is to gossip over jewelry faux pas’.” Shanks’ eyebrows shot up and he left out a laugh.

“Oh I don’t doubt that, but you aren’t exactly surrounded by that type vanity, Aria?” He reminded you, taking one of the earrings and carefully slipping into your ear. With the earring hanging from your ear and catching the sparkling sun, he tapped your chin and stepped back to see the earring and necklace at the same time. You eyed him and took the remaining earring, sliding it into your other ear before turning to face Shanks with your hands on your hips.

“Very well, ignoring any faux pas’ I might be committing at the present, how does it look?” As you finished asking that question, your stomach decided to let out a rumble in protest. Late afternoon hunger was making its presence known. Your face flushed in embarrassment. “You didn’t hear that.”

Shanks laughed at your words while his smile widened.

“I think it’s time that I feed the madam, we have been wandering the market for quite awhile.” He said, turning to the jeweler and puling out Berry to cover the earrings. “Thank you for the earrings.”

“The madam makes the earrings, it is my pleasure to see my work upon such a beautiful woman.” The jeweler answered with a slight bow of his head. You let the red haired man pay for the earrings, keeping the promise you had made that he was allowed to buy you one thing from the market. As you took Shanks’ arm again and you began walking towards the town square filled with food stalls, you remembered that your stomach had distracted you from receiving an answer regarding how the earrings looked. You liked them, but did Shanks?

“So, how do they look?” You asked as you both turned down a street leading to the market square overlooking the harbor. The setting sun was still quite high in the sky, but the rays of sunlight that broke through the clouds illuminated you. Shanks paused and turned towards you, he then reached up and pushed your hat back until the strings caught around your neck. Now he could see your face fully. The light breeze ruffled your hair and your new earrings swayed, catching the light in a vibrant red.

“You are beautiful,” Shanks spoke, his eyes crinkling at the corners and lips curved. Your eyelashes fluttered for a moment as you slowly took in his genuine words. Your forehead furrowed and the red head began tugging you in the direction of the market square again.

“You didn’t answer my question though, Shanks!” You protested weakly, hastening your footsteps to catch up to his side. He still didn’t answer your question, just smiled. “Shanks!”

Date Published: 5/1/24

Last Edit: 5/1/24

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[radioapplerevue]

you have to be stupid to have a radioapple blog. it's like you didn't watch the show at all. they hate each other and alastor's aroace btw. lucifer's married! it's never gonna be canon. you're going to feel so dumb when s2 comes out

Friend. Friend, let me take your hand. Here, sit down. Are you feeling all right? Would you like some tea? I'm not sure why you are spending time on a blog for something you so clearly hate. There has to be things you can do that are more fun, surely.

I do have to say though, that it's a little funny that you seem to think that people can't ship things if they aren't canon -- as though the backbone of many fandoms going way back isn't non-canon ships. I'm pushing forty, okay. I'm far too old and tired to deal with younger fans and their fandom politics. As far as I'm concerned, fandom is for doing whatever is the most fun for you. If you only want what's in the canon, then just watch the show! But for me, fandom is for exploring, theorizing, connecting, creating.

Fandom, for me, considers the "he would never say/do that" statement less important than "okay, but what if he did say/do that. What would that look like, what would that change, where would the story go from there." That's what is so fascinating to me! I have plenty of canon ships, but I also have many non-canon ships, and I have to say, I tend to find more absolutely incredible fanfics for non-canon ships, because the author really has to put in the effort to make it work. And when they do, the payoff feels so damn good.

I've already explained why I ship these two on this blog before. But to make a long story short: I find their dynamic to have a lot of potential, and I badly want to see where that potential might go. Two powerful, messed up (in different ways) people learning to work with each other, respect each other, and perhaps even care about each other is so delicious. The show won't give me that. At most it might give me them becoming begrudging friends (my biggest wish for them from the show is that they fight together at some point, because that would be goooood), but I don't expect it. I have never seen anyone say that it's going to be canon, so I'm not sure where you're getting that from.

And I don't need it to be! No ship needs to be canon to be enjoyed. I feel fortunate enough that this is a big enough fandom and a big enough ship that I have a veritable buffet of great fanwork to enjoy. I'm used to smaller fandoms, so it's a treat. And as an aroace person, I really love seeing the flavors of ace that people work with in their fics/art. I haven't seen so much of that in a fandom before, and it's really fun. The different approaches they take regarding Alastor's unconventional sexuality, because we don't know where he falls on the spectrum -- and even if we did, it's fine to do what one wants to tell the story you want to tell. If I don't like it, I don't have to read it. This is a sandbox, and everyone can play with the toys whichever way makes them happy.

This was longer than the ask (if it can be called that) probably merits, but you can't gotcha me. I know why I'm here, and it's to have fun with these two absolute fucking disasters.

[maccreadysbaby]

A Hundred Ways to Become a Wayne

batfamily + oc insert

tw: angst?

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

YOU GUYYYSSSS

part forty

❝ THE BEGINNING OF THE END ❞

THURSDAY — SEPTEMBER 10 — 3:47 PM

WITHIN TWO DAYS, DR. KEENE HAD BEEN ARRESTED, AND JOHN WHITTAKER WAS MOVED INTO ARKHAM.

And two days after that, no plan b had been set into motion. The Secret Keeper hadn’t been seen, and neither had any metahumans or missing children. It was like time froze; like they were all hunkering in the labs no one knew the location of. Stalking. Waiting for something. A signal. A word.

Bentley had been spending most of his time recovering. He couldn’t remember a thing from his sickness, not a second of it, but he sure could feel it for a few days. His whole body was sore and he slept a ton. Life was largely… still sort of normal. Apart from the newly acquired superpowers, which Bentley was slowly getting the hang of. The hard part wasn’t controlling the water, it was controlling his emotions so the water didn’t, like, kill people. Which had been going pretty okay.

Asten and Nico were doing good. Both were healthy and at home, living their own lives. Turned out, Asten hadn’t been so pissed about Nico taking him to the Manor. What he had been pissed about, however, was Bentley spilling the entire truth to Bruce, which he had confessed to them over text. Nico was fine with it; he probably would’ve done it already. And he knew Bruce was Batman, which made it better. (It had also slipped that Nico knew everyone’s superhero identities, which went strangely, strangely well.) Asten, however, promptly stopped texting Bentley and hadn’t since. (Queue a spiral of Asten hates me thoughts at a family dinner that ended with most of the table's drinks levitating. But, on the bright side, Bentley got them all back in the right glasses.)

But that was okay. Bentley was okay. Everything would be okay. 

“Check,”

Bentley looked down at the chessboard with a sigh. “I’m not very good at this.”

“You’ll get it. It’s complicated at first,” Tim replied from the other side of the table. He seemed… good. He was allowed to monitor the Batcomputer again, and looked way better. Less sick. Bentley was thankful — he’d missed Tim.

In the last three hours, he and Tim had played over a dozen mean games of checkers at the den’s board game table, and were now trying their hand at chess; a game Tim was very good at, and Bentley had little to no idea how to play. He was told it was easier to learn as you go. He didn’t think so.

Tim turned out to be freakishly good at chess, actually. He’d already beat Bentley twice and was trying his best to explain, but the poor kid just wasn’t getting it. (He was more or less moving his pieces exactly like Tim was. At least it wouldn’t be wrong!)

“Did you see anything on the computer last night?” Bentley questioned, moving one of his pieces completely randomly. Tim seemed like he wanted to correct the turn, but ended up just going with it instead. “Nope. No Secret Keeper, no metahumans. Only petty crime and gang activity.”

Bentley nodded to himself. “What about the news?”

“Nothing concerning or suspicious,”

To say Bentley was a little stressed out about the infamous plan b would be an understatement. He was told not to watch the news or Batcomputer, but he wasn’t told not to ask. Gotham burning because of him was pretty much directly his business. (And his fault. Queue a late night bathroom flood that he managed to fix before anyone else noticed just a few nights ago.)

“Here — let’s start over,” Tim suggested, moving all of his pieces back to the beginning of the game. Bentley followed suit, lining them up just like he did.

“May I take over, Drake?”

Bentley and Tim both craned their necks to glance over at the door of the den, where Damian was standing. Bentley hadn’t really seen him outside of family meals and times when everyone was together. 

He was wearing a deep green hoodie and black sweatpants, leaning against the door, and he and Tim seemed to have some kind of weird, thirty-second staring contest in which they spoke with their eyes before Tim finally stood up and made his way out of the den.

Damian made his way to the other side of the chessboard and sat down there. “Did he teach you how to play?”

Bentley glanced up at him, meeting his greenish-blue eyes for the first time in a long time. “Sort of, I guess. I’m not very good.”

Damian hummed in response, moving one of the pieces on the board. Bentley simply copied the movement with one of his.

“Father told me you ran away because of what I said, and that I should apologize,” Damian spoke up, a strange expression taking over his features, like talking that way was literally paining him. “I… did not mean for you to get so upset.”

Bentley said nothing, watching closely as Damian moved another piece on the board and trying to move one of his own correspondingly. 

“But… you did not do anything wrong to make me angry at you. I… guess I was… jealous. Of how much everybody loves you. Drake and Richard and Todd — they all flock to you. They acted like brothers to you way faster than they did for me; I still do not think Drake likes me. I understand that I am different from you, but seeing such a stark difference in my family made me… upset. After all, I am a Wayne by blood, and I felt… inferior,” He explained quietly. 

Bentley watched as Damian blinked, glancing around with a sigh. “I… am not very good at talking about this type of thing.”

“Me either,” Bentley replied honestly. “But I think you’re doing a good job.”

Damian glanced up at him, and with a exhale, moved another piece. “I guess I… I saw the way my father treated you, and… and Richard stopped spending time with me and started spending it with you instead. Watching your relationships with everybody around me flourish and become better than mine… losing the interest of my family to someone else… it hurt.”

Bentley breathed in and moved another piece on the chessboard. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“It was not your fault. Being jealous was my mistake — I have been taught better than to let it cloud my judgment, and yet, it got the better of me,” Damian moved another piece. “I have always felt like an outsider in this family, due to my upbringing and differences from everybody else. Being Robin after Drake made it worse. I have always felt like I had to work to make them love me. You went to school and had friends on the first day. I suppose… watching another child join the family and get everything I had worked so hard for handed to him made me overreact.”

Bentley said nothing, but kept watching the pieces on the board move. 

“I am sorry, Bentley. I said a lot of inappropriate things to you. The truth is, your spot in this family is not built on pity or sympathy, but something much, much more… real. And it made me feel threatened. It was not right for me to take it out on you. And I sincerely apologize for all of my behavior recently,” Damian said softly. “The truth is, I have never had a real family before this one. I had my mother, of course, but this is very different… better. And, in all honesty, thinking about losing them to someone else, to anything, it… scares me. A lot.”

At that, Bentley snickered. Damian’s head snapped up, and his gaze grew cold. “Why are you laughing?”

“Nothing bad, it’s just�� we’re a lot more similar than I thought, that’s all,” Bentley explained, moving one of his chess pieces. “Losing all of this has… I guess… kind of became one of my worst fears. And I do stupid stuff, like run away, to try and keep that from happening. We’re doing the same exact thing, just… differently.”

Damian nodded slightly, taking his turn. “I suppose we are.”

A moment of silence passed.

“Perhaps we can find a way to… deal with it… jointly.”

Bentley looked up at him. “You mean, together?”

“It’s not my typical behavior, I do admit, but I believe that would be the most beneficial course of action. We have the same motives; working together to not do, quote-on-quote, stupid things, would be the ideal solution.”

Bentley nodded. “Okay.”

They both moved another piece. “And, since I am being honest… I… miss doing things with you.”

Bentley smiled slightly. “Me too.”

Damian moved a piece on the board. “I don’t expect you to forgive me, I do not deserve it; but… perhaps we can… still try and do things like we used to?” 

“I already forgave you,” Bentley said, taking his turn.

“What?”

“I already forgave you,” He repeated, glancing up at Damian. “I never blamed you. I knew you probably didn’t mean to hurt me, and that something else was going on. Plus, when anything around here goes wrong, the only person I’m trained to blame is myself,” He said, shaking his head. “I’m not upset at you, Damian. And I do miss you, too.”

A long moment of silence passed where no one said anything until Damian uttered: “Checkmate.”

Bentley snickered again. “I’m terrible at this.”

“You are pretty abysmal, yes,”

He and Damian made eye contact and started laughing, for the first time in what felt like a literal forever.

Maybe everything would be okay.

—

SATURDAY — SEPTEMBER 12 — 6:51PM

Okay, so Bentley was really loving the whole superpower thing. Not only could he make water go where he wanted, but he could also make it do what he wanted. For example, he could use a little stream of water to pick things up, like an extra hand, or break things, or cut things. (Yes, the fallen tree in the backyard was from him. It was experimental.)

Currently, though, his favorite thing to do with it was wrap the water around his own feet and use it like a skateboard. He could make it go really darn fast. It was pretty much the funnest thing he’d done in his entire life. And, when he was done, he wasn’t even wet!

Actually, that was exactly what he was doing right now, at sunset, in the backyard with Damian, Nico (who had slept over), Titus (the dog), and Ace.

Now that Bentley and Damian were friends again, life felt normal. Like actually normal, all except for the fact that Asten still wasn’t talking to him. But that was fine, he guessed. He didn’t let it bother him that much.

Nico had acquired a new power over the past few days — and it was manipulating the air beneath him so that he could fly. Straight up levitating-in-the-air fly. Which was awesome and sort of unbelievable. 

Now, the three of them were playing with the dogs, throwing toys from the sky and making the trusty Wayne canines chase their impossibly fast movements, and had been for almost an hour.

“Bentley, I am not sure this is the safest means of travel,” Damian stated. He was across the yard from Bentley, also standing on a platform of water and pretty much hating it. He was struggling to balance (which was odd considering he was Robin), and even though he literally wouldn’t hit the ground if he fell, was surprisingly unsteady.

Bentley chuckled, moving across the yard on the water seamlessly and quickly with a chew toy that Titus was chasing. “Don’t you trust me?”

“You, yes. Magical levitating water, no,”

“C’mon, we won’t let you fall!” Nico announced, dropping low to the ground and flying in a few circles around Damian. “This is the safest you’ll ever be!”

“I seriously doubt that. Although I assume I appreciate the sentiment,” Damian replied, wobbling slightly when the water lifted him up a bit higher in the air.

“Lean where you want to go like you’re on a skateboard. It’ll move when you want it to,” Bentley announced, demonstrating by taking a steady but sharp u-turn that threw Titus for a (literal) loop.

Damian scrunched his nose. “How do you know?”

“Because the water does what I tell it to,” Bentley deadpanned. “Duh.”

“I presume-“

In the distance, there was a loud, thundering crash that made everybody jump. Loud like hurricane loud. Loud like atom bomb loud.

Nico promptly landed back on the grass, and Bentley made the water seep back into the dirt and leave him and Damian on dry ground.

“What the heck was that?” Nico questioned, blue eyes wide, flicking around warily. Bentley looked around the grounds surrounding the Manor, but couldn’t come up with much.

“I don’t know,”

“It sounded like-“

“Dami!”

The three of them turned to face the porch, where Dick was standing, an urgent look spread across his face. “C’mon, we need you!”

Oh, so something really serious was happening? What was happening?

The three of them made for the house at once, and Bentley assumed it was really, really serious when Dick went straight into the cave in front of Nico with no discretion at all.

They followed him closely, and halfway down the stairs, Nico nudged Bentley’s shoulder. He had his phone in hand. “I missed four calls from Asten.”

Bentley glanced down at his pockets, patting them and then withdrawing his phone. On the lock screen, there sat Asten’s name. Four times.

“Me, too,” He muttered. Nico tapped on Asten’s name and brought it to his ear. Bentley heard it go straight to voicemail.

“That can’t be good,” Bentley muttered, and Nico shook his head.

When they made it to the cave, it seemed to be crunch time. Tim was all Red Robin-ed up, sitting at the Batcomputer, typing furiously, and Bruce was but two feet away in his full Batman gear besides the cowl. Jason was about halfway into being Red Hood, Dick ran off to get ready, Cass and Steph zoomed out of the cave on guttural sounding motorcycles, and Damian made for the locker room, where his suit was.

“Holy shit,” Nico muttered, breathless.

Bentley, amused by his cursing but not enough to crack a smile, made for the Batcomputer in record time. “What’s happening?”

In the center of the massive screen was an aerial view of Gotham from what looked like a drone. Bentley’s question was answered indisputably by a building — an entire actual building, with a bunch of floors and all — rumbling and shaking at the base, the entire thing collapsing from the bottom up with a loud crash that rumbled the sides of the cave, smoke and dust pluming up into the sky and making it hard to see. The city was indeed glowing, but not in it's normal sunset lights way. 

Gotham was burning. 

There were flames everywhere; licking out of the windows of buildings, vehicles burning on the streets, trees and plants and flower beds charred, entire multi-story buildings engulfed in flame. How many people had… how many people were…?

Bentley’s father had warned him about this, and still, he told the truth anyways. (How stupid was that? Bentley Whittaker was still on his ten year streak of doing absolutely nothing beneficial.)

“I’m trying to triangulate the epicenter of the destructive energy, but I’m struggling. It’s powerful everywhere,” Tim said, more to himself than Bruce, still furiously typing away on the computer. The keys he was pressing were showing up as lines of code in a box in the bottom left corner of the screen. The top right corner also had a little box in it, cycling through what looked like the most prevalent news channels and stories.

“I’m going to have a heart attack,” Nico whispered, drifting up next to Bentley and looking at the computer. “I’m in the Batcave.”

“Bentley, are you positive your father didn’t say anything else about this plan b? Anything at all?” Bruce questioned, moving away from the computer to a different part of the cave.

“No…” Bentley muttered, watching the news stories flick to pictures of charred bodies and immediately looking away. “All he said was… when the elements are against each other, fire always wins. That’s all.”

Bruce got a calculating look on his face and pulled his cowl up.

“There! Make that bigger!” Nico exclaimed, pointing at the current news story that was running in the top corner. Tim blew the tab up to twice it’s normal size and put the volume on.

On the screen was a video of a semi-truck, upside down in a deep, deep ravine, burning and smoking. The headline read: semi-truck failure in Somerset.

“-unfortunately, driver Samuel Evans was killed almost instantly in the windshield-first impact. There were no witnesses around to see exactly what caused the truck to swerve off the road-“

Samuel Evans. Where had Bentley heard that name before? 

“Oh my God,” Nico muttered, bringing his hands up to his mouth. “That’s Asten’s uncle.”

Bentley blinked, looking at the upside down semi-truck. Asten’s uncle was dead, and they’d missed all his calls.

When the elements are pitted against one another, fire always wins.

“This is it,” Bentley muttered. Nico looked over at him, furrowing his brows. 

“What?”

“The Secret Keeper showed me you finding your adoption papers. In that dream I saw a big door in your house that had the Greek gods on it. Hephaestus, god of fire, was destroying everything, and the gods of water and air were trying to save him… and… and in the videos, Dr. Keene talked about powers becoming volatile under emotional stress… The Secret Keeper could see the future, they had it all planned out…” Bentley muttered, swallowing thickly. “This is it — the end my father was talking about.”

Nico swallowed thickly, too. “And you’re saying…”

Bentley looked back at the screen, at the rapidly crumbling buildings behind an upside down semi. The drone moved to a tall building Bentley had seen before, not too long ago, in a dream, with a small figure with blue hair and orange eyes standing on top of it.

“…We have to fight Asten,”

—

dedicated to @sassenashsworld 💚

—

tag list! (If you want me to remove or add you, ask in comments!)

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @flyrobinflyy @skylathescholar @gayboss-too-close-to-the-sun @xiaonothere @beatyoutothatusernameloser

[phantomphangphucker]

Phic Phight - Does The Blood And Viscera Define Him (It’s from Fights And Injuries, Guys, Not Messy Bloodsucking, Gosh!)

@going-dead

Maddie and Jack consider themselves very supportive parents, even if they were rather strange, and that includes towards they’re definitely not human, or entirely human, son. Besides! At least he wasn’t a ghost! Vampires were much better, Vlad made that pretty clear.

Maddie side-eyes Danny as subtly as she can, watching him open the fridge, quirk an eyebrow, and poke the little blood juice box in there. Sticking that in there wasn’t the most subtle of things she could have done, but it was easy enough to explain as a ‘easy transport’ blood transfusion that Jack wanted to design to make ‘look fun’; and it did have a tube and needle instead of a straw so it technically could be used that way. That wasn’t really why they made it though, not a chance.

No, the point was Danny. Trying to make sure he was healthy.

She’s not entirely sure how he was getting his needs met, she had a good guess of course. Sam was always pale, even if she always had been since she’d first meet the young girl. And Tucker would literally sell his soul for Danny. Plus there was also the fact that Sam was not only extremely wealthy, but her parents never really looked at any purchases she made; she could absolutely be buying him blood. She’d also spotted them bloodied or bandaged once or twice; Tucker on the neck even. This was all without even touching Danny’s odd ‘frienemies’ relationship with Vlad, sometimes he seemed to hate the man’s existence and other times it felt more like Danny trusted him more than her or Jack.

And well…

Vlad was a vampire so…

She could understand is what she’s saying.

She makes a point to focus back on trying to fix the toaster, for the fourth time this month, when it seems like Danny might turn around. She can tell the moment his eyes are on her, she always could, it always had this sort of predatory pressure to it; she’s thankful it never felt possessive or creepy like it did with Vlad. No, Danny’s gaze felt more… cautious, like an uneasy predator, and protective, as if he worried about them getting hurt. Hurt by him or from the ghosts or from their own recklessness, she’s not sure, but she could never bring herself to be worried about him hurting her. Heck she didn’t even worry Vlad would genuinely hurt her; if that man wanted to bite her he likely would have a long time ago and he was far too self controlled to do it accidentally. If Danny did bite her, she’d probably spend more time calming him down and reassuring him, than actually trying to get him to stop. It’s was a parents job to look after and support their kids, if that meant blood with her son then so be it. If that meant trying to clean up the state his room wound up in so often, then so be it. Even if that was fairly disgusting, he was clearly not the cleanest drinker considering all the organic messes he managed to get on the floor and his walls. He even got a bit of rotting blood inside his window wall somehow. She made the mistake when he was younger of just leaving him to clean up his own room, the carpet had to be ripped out and it literally was dripping with gooey unidentifiable gore. Danny’d been very awkward and wouldn’t met her eyes after she told him about ripping up his floor; she didn’t give him too much hassle about it but still. She went in there with an enzymatic cleaner at least once a week now.

She waits a few minutes after Danny leaves to look in the fridge, the blood box is gone and she feels… content. Like she’s done her job as a mother.

(Danny doesn’t know why the heck his folks would make blood transfusions in juice boxes of all things, but they made a mini bazooka shaped like a toothbrush, he should expect this shit by now. Either way he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth, his ghostly physiology meant he didn’t really have to worry about blood type and he absolutely did not want that emergency blood fusion thing to happen again. He felt like a huge dick asking Tuck to do that just because of some stupid blood sucking unicorn ghost).

She makes sure to send Jack a photo of the fridge with a thumbs up emoji, letting her husband know the idea was a solid one. Some of both of their ideas had been hit or miss. Sam appreciated their backyard being more shady, even if Maddie’s sure Jack’s ‘we needed a new shed’ explanation wasn’t believed, but Danny didn’t seem like he even noticed. His refusal to use sun screen also bothered her, to the point where she’d started adding speciality spf drops to his body washes to make sure he got at least some protection. Rolling her eyes to herself a little, boys and their ‘I’m too tough for such and such thing’. At least he wore long sleeves these days, and thick pants sun couldn’t easily get through.

(Danny was hiding scars. Danny was tired of cheap thin clothing getting wrecked. Danny was developing muscle that he did not want noticed).

Her cooking black pudding and blood sausage did not go over well, everyone agreeing -including Danny- that it was gross and to never try that again. She did attempt it another time, just to see if she messed it up, but, well, that became sentient and everyone was very disgusted by the ‘blood spitting sentient sausage’, Danny had even seemed personally offended, likely he thought the ‘waste of blood’ was insulting.

(Danny got covered in his own blood and ecto, as well as others, enough that a freaking sausage doing it legit was insulting. He had been very offended).

Jack’s fang brush Danny did seemingly take but she’s pretty sure he’s using that on a stray dog he seemingly likes but has never brought home.

(Cujo loved its weird shape. Danny loved that Cujo loved it).

Maddie shakes her head, smiling a little down at the toaster as she gets the last little piece in place, she’s not sure why it had a habit of spitting toast at Danny but she is slightly annoyed that he keeps retaliating like a toaster can care about that. Even if vampires were more aggressive and vindictive by nature, it was still annoying to keep having to fix it; at least it gave Danny something to take those natural desires out on… besides his pranking feud with Vlad. She really would like Vlad to do almost anything else other than nailing dead badgers to Danny’s door or beneath his window, she gets that the man has completely normalised animal corpses to himself -since she’s sure that’s what he feeds off of- but it’s extremely disturbing and Danny complains heavily about the clean up effort. At least she got Danny to stop mailing Vlad fully made cereal, since the mailman threatened to stop taking their packages if he got one more moldy stink bomb box; she hadn’t had the heart to tell the mailman it was moldy food being mailed the long way specifically to get more moldy and not a stink bomb.

Jack pops up from the lab, arms full with more blood boxes and grinning. Maddie putting her hands on her hips, whispering, “Jack, that’s way too many. It’s suspicious”. Her husband has the good sense to look embarrassed and dash right back down to the lab. Being subtle, at least subtle enough, was important. Neither one of them wanted to give away what they already knew, they wanted Danny to tell them himself! Sure, Vlad never did, but after that lab accident she couldn’t blame him for not trusting them, especially when he refused to talk to or visit them for twenty years… She’s still convinced that Danny’s why that man got back in touch with them, that he somehow knew or found out about Danny. Vampires probably smelled different to vampires than humans did. Same with how ghosts clearly had a strong ectoplasmic scent, hence why Danny always seemed to know when one was nearby and would smartly run off.

Jack comes back with only three boxes, which might still be pushing it but she won’t tell him off this time. They go in the fridge.

At least Vlad didn’t really hide being a vampire either though, which Danny was very clearly trying very had to do. She’d absolutely caught glimpses of Vlad’s eyes flashing red, and his hair style did nothing to hide his pointy ears with the way he wore it. The fangs weren’t subtle either and sometimes she thinks he’s trying to make his dark undereyes actively more noticeable. While Danny’s hair always somewhat covered his ears these days, the fangs… either he’s filling them down or he can retract them.

Oh, right, she should update that message board that her son seemed to like the blood juice box idea. Originally her and Jack had joined the website as just lurkers, when they got suspicious about Vlad years ago, but they kinda forgot about it once Vlad made it really clear he wasn’t ‘interested’ in their ‘support’ or friendship. Then Danny hit his pre-teen and early teen years, they’re assuming he ‘awakened’ during the beginning of puberty but the message board made it clear that vampires could awaken at pretty much any age. Sure they only had access to the ‘human’ areas, and not the parts meant for vampires, but it was a fantastic resource. The area for parents of vampires was particularly useful, and a couple others were curious how the blood juice box thing would go over; Maddie and Jack weren’t subtle about being inventors. Maybe they should try selling them?

Her and Jack both heading down to the lab now. Him getting back to work on a shield to protect the Highschool, since it was such a hot spot. Her hopping on the computer.

MadScientist: the juice box method seemed well received. He was a bit cautious about taking it, but still took it. We’re calling it a winner. Hopefully more cropping up, and him taking them, will make him more comfortable with it.

LemiRemi: he might not take them too often, since I’m sure what he gets from his blackswans is arguably better. And they might get worried if he starts feeding off of them less.

Maddie did worry about that, especially since she knew Sam and Tucker wouldn’t bring such worries up with her or Jack, nutritionally he should be fine since they formulated it to be identical to the nutritional value and contents of human blood; it wouldn’t be ‘as fresh’ probably but still.

MadScientist: hopefully it won’t worry them too much, since we really are just trying to make sure he’s healthy and trying to get him comfortable enough to talk with us about it.

Gem45: some kids just never really get comfortable with their parents, but their health should definitely come first.

Zeemzeff: I wish my kid had the resources you do, him autofeeding always worries me

Maddie was still lost on how autofeeding, a vampire feeding off of themselves, was remotely viable, even if it sounded like it wasn’t really safe rather just survivable. If Danny started doing that, she’d out and tell him she knew immediately to get him to accept their help with getting his ‘food’.

MadScientist: I was thinking about trying to sell the blood boxes, but I doubt they could handle any really long trips. We already sell volatile and sensitive inventions so the transport itself would be fine. But blood is only good for so long.

Zeemzeff: oh how I wish we lived in America sometimes. The weather is a lot better here but man, do Americans have access to everything.

Emilyfreetree: I’m still lot letting my girl anywhere near one of those blood bars.

MadScientist: agreed

She’d be concerned if Danny even wanted to go to a place like that, Vlad no doubt did but she’s going to hold out hope that the man will not encourage Danny to when he’s of age. She wouldn’t… object to him buying blood wine though, even if it was expensive and apparently a bit on the salty side; only when he’s older of course. Heck, she’d try some if it made him more comfortable.

LemiRemi: I’d be interested in purchasing that, at least to see if my kid would like it. I definitely would discourage getting too dependent on just that though

MadScientist: we’ll see what we can do. Even if my son was fine with just the boxes I’d rather him have variety, that has to be healthier.

Her looking away from the computer to her husband, “at least one person’s interested in trying to buy the blood boxes, so we should definitely work on that”.

Jack beaming instantly, “awesome!”, rubbing his neck, “we just gotta make sure none of that gets accidentally contaminated”. Maddie nodding immediately, that wasn’t an issue for Danny, since he has that contamination of his, but it would be an issue for anyone else. Jack then snapping his fingers, “oh! We should totally send Vladdie some! Betcha he’d love some human mixed in with all that animal he gets!”. Maddie sighing, fairly certain Vlad won’t actually appreciate that.

(Danny later had to explain to an annoyed though impressed Vlad that no, he did not mail him fucking human blood regardless of that reading as a ‘your ghost ass looks like a vampire’ joke. Vlad did not believe him and sent back a bloody thank you card as a form of mocking).

Jack liked to think he was a pretty good dad, a little oblivious and a little silly, but still a good dad. Sure his family was a little weird, from the ghost hunting to his daughter’s baffling intellect to his son’s species. Sure Jazz and Danny got a little annoyed with the ghost hunting, but it helped keep the town and his family safe. Even with both of them avoiding the gear so much, sometimes it seemed like Danno was nervous around the stuff, like maybe he thought they’d start hunting vampires too or something! Never! But he’s certain vampire hunters exist too, even if he’s never met any. Fae probably exist too, same with fae hunters. But fae and vampires, probably or definitely for vampires, have brains and hearts; far better than the ectoplasmic nothingness ghost had. Ghosts weren’t beings. Sure Danny’s vitals were a little weird but they were still there, same as Vladdie’s!

Jack shaking his head as he tries to focus back in on the gun he’s putting back together, they needed something that would actually work on that Phantom ghost, at least to talk to the thing about what was driving It to behave as some kind of wannabe ‘ghost hunter’. That, and Phantom clearly knew about Vladdie, based on his public comments, so he’s got to wonder if the ghost knew about Danny too. Danny-boy was weirdly ghost-friendly, a monster comradery thing perhaps, so maybe Danny talked with the ‘friendly’ ghost about the less human things about himself. Jack would rather his kiddo come to him with that, but he could understand a bit. And Phantom was, like, hundreds of years old so no way the spook didn’t know about vampires; that online forum made it seem like there were quite a few out there! Which most people probably wouldn’t like knowing about, but he’d rather Danny-boy have lots like him than very few.

Oh! Jack pauses, maybe if he just seemed like he was trying to talk to Phantom on ‘friendly’ terms the spook would float down and have a chat? Sure it would be hard to resist shooting It but if he could find a thing or two about how to better care for his kid then it would totally be worth it.

Jumping up and sticking his head down the lab door, “I’m heading out! Gonna see if I can track some spooks down!”.

“Make sure not to bother Danny if he’s day sleeping in a tree again!”.

Jack rubbing his neck, “how was I supposed to know he’d be there?!?”.

“You need to practice more situational awareness!”.

“I’ll try! Hon!”.

His dear sweet Maddie only laughing in response as he heads out. He knew he wasn’t the best at paying attention to his surroundings, but Danny-boy sleeping so quietly didn’t help! He definitely wished Danny’d get more sleep though, daytime sleep since all the night time sleeping didn’t seem to be doing him much good; perhaps he couldn’t actually really sleep at night at all and that’s why he kept falling asleep in classes before they just started letting him spend Sundays sleeping instead of doing chores.

It’s really bright out today, Amity was usually pretty good for cloud coverage, even if the sudden random snow storms that cropped up sometimes were odd. The light glare off of the scanner was annoying but that didn’t stop it from picking up on spectral traces, he knows a fight happened down by the park this morning so that’s where he’s heading. It was deer season too so maybe he could snag one there for lunch, something more fresh even if Danny always seemed a little confused and weirded out when he brought something home for Mad’s to serve nearly raw. Kiddo probably just wasn’t a big fan of getting his food from something that was actually dead dead. It was too bad ghosts didn’t have blood in them, Jack would love trying to encourage Danny-boy to bite them.

…

He actually has more luck with the animals than the ghost samples, none of samples were anything they haven’t already gathered and examined multiple times over. Meanwhile, he’s got himself a good healthy little bunny, just startle It with a ray blast at the ground and then quickly grab and break its neck. Simple, quick, and painless; just like how his pa taught him. Honestly it was more of a struggle to not fully crush really small animals, one of the downsides of being a really big guy.

“What’d the bunny do to you?”.

Jack actually jumps, whirling around with his prize and blinking in surprise at Phantom’s judgmental raised eyebrow, “oh! Phantom! Ha! Didn’t see you there”, holding up the rabbit a little, “they're good for stew, and the rabbit population here is a little crazy since there’s no coyotes or anything”. When the ghost issue first popped up, the spooks chased pretty much all the wild life away but over time most just got used to the ghosts. And sure, stew wasn’t as great a blood meal for his Danny but it was still fresh meat; and the blood wouldn’t have to be thrown out since he’d figured out how to powderise it and mix it into Danny’s ground coffee. Danny had even commented on getting a better batch! So Jack called it a win!

(Much later, after finding this out, Danny would make a rather panicked call to Vlad about if ghosts liked the taste of blood. Vlad had been completely baffled, didn’t have a good answer, and agreed to try some of Danny’s apparently blood contaminated coffee. Vlad had some opinions on Danny’s disgustingly strong coffee as well as agreeing that yes, ghosts probably did actually like the taste. The FrightKnight later confirming that yes, ghosts did, and humans used to give ghosts live and blood sacrifices for that very reason. Danny had a crises… he didn’t stop drinking the blood coffee though. It was already too late anyways! And! It did taste better).

Phantom blinks, “okay, you’re not wrong, but it is still super weird to see a random citizen just… strangling a rabbit in the park”.

Jack cringes a little, okay yeah, he can see how that might be alarming and something to go check out. Laughing anyways, “fair enough! Vladdie hasn’t said it’s not allowed though!”.

Phantom grumbling, “considering what the dear old mayor does to animals that’s not really a good thing”.

Jack beams a little, oh he was totally right! Phantom definitely knew! Sweet! “Eh gotta get those needs and murderous desires met somehow, am I right?!”. Phantom’s concerned expression doesn’t change, if anything It seems slightly more concerned. “And he’s a good mayor for the town, even if he wasn’t my buddy I’d say that!”.

“I guess? He’s certainly different enough to fit in?”, Phantom shakes his head and holds up a finger, “question, why? aren’t you trying to shoot me?”.

Jack rubs his neck, “well knowing my Danny-boy, he’s probably tree sleeping again and the wife did just give me clear instructions not to wake him up, again. Night sleeping doesn’t seem to be working out for him, figures, so you know”.

Phantom blinks, “he… does sleep in trees a lot”, smirking, “I’ve startled him, and birds, a few times”.

“I’m surprised he’s never given himself a sunburn really, leaves aren’t super great shade”, Jack shaking his head, even if Danny-boy wasn’t a vampire, Jack would still worry since he’s such a pale kid. Honestly Jack would probably worry about the kid having an iron deficiency if he didn’t know about the vampire situation!

“I really don’t think you have to worry about that. He can handle the sun”.

Jack taps his chin, perhaps his contamination made him more resilient? “I suppose his contamination makes him a tougher cookie”.

Phantom tilting his head, “yeah… physically strong and all that”.

“Sometimes I wonder why he’s not stronger”, Jack chuckling, “that or he’s got a bit better strength control than I’ve got! Ha!”.

“I have seen you pick up that military vehicle of yours”.

Jack laughing a bit more, “exactly!”, Danny really should be stronger than him, Jack knew Vladdie had some serious strength but he was also on a basically animal only diet. Danny was getting human, from those friends of his, so he should be seriously strong! Danny-boy was probably just really self-conscious about his strength, and so was really careful about it! Not that he needed to be! Just the same as how he’d get all awkward when anyone commented on him getting places really quickly, he’s not sure if being able to turn into a bat was a real thing, it didn’t seem to be but who knows! If he could then Danny-boy would totally love flying! Oh! Maybe he can just ask Phantom here about that! “I also wonder why he doesn’t talk about flying, he’s always loved space, so you’d think he’d find ways to get up in the air more”.

Phantom’s response is slightly panicky for some reason, “I mean, I’ve gone flying with him before, you know how ghosts fights can be. It’s a much easier way to get out of a dangerous area”.

Ha! Jack knew it! That was so cool! Danny could be a bat! Like from Hotel Transylvania! He bets Danny makes for an adorable bat! Same with Vlad! Vlad’s probably a tall skinny bat! Like a flying fox bat or a Sulawesi fruit bat with their sharp faces! Imagine if Danny-boy was a cute little Honduran white bat or a teeny tiny bumblebee bat! Danny would be so embarrassed but so cute! Kid already fit in his hand, in one finger would be so adorable! Him blurting out, “he must use a really weird brush to deal with that wind swept hair! His normal hair’s already a handful! Ha!”.

Phantom looks so confused and is probably sticking around at this point because of Its confusion. Maybe the ghost found it weird Jack took this long to ask things? Phantom blinks harshly, “I know that Sam girl has tried to brush him with a toothbrush but I think that’s the closest to weird it’s ever been”.

A! Toothbrush! That was adorable! He hopes the goth has photos he can see whenever Danny gets comfortable enough to tell him. “A toothbrush! Ha! That’s great!”.

(Danny is very confused when his next birthday card has the image of a bat getting toothbrush head scrubbies on it, and also confused as to why Jack thought it was hilarious).

Phantom blinks, “yeah… did you… come down here just to strangle a rabbit?”.

Jack holds up the scanner, “nope! Was seeing if there’d be any good samples to take! The rabbit was just a bonus, a yummy one and nutritious”, nodding strongly to himself, “Danny boy definitely needs to put on a pound or two”.

“I think? he’s fine?”.

Oh perhaps vampires didn’t really need to worry about that? That’s good, “well a growing boy still needs to get that blood pumping, either way”, humming, “maybe I should take him hunting proper one day. Fishing went okay?”; oh he definitely should! What if Sam or Tucker get sick or injured and can’t feed him? He should be able to get an animal on his own. Yes! New bonding opportunity!

Phantom chuckling awkwardly, “I’m not going to encourage you taking your son out to kill things”.

Jack waving the ghost off, “oh you’re a ghost! That’s expected!”, putting his hands on his hips and nodding strongly, “I’m taking him hunting”, smacking a fist into a hand, “in fact, I’m going to go home and plan it right now, bye you spook!”. Phantom sighing tiredly while waving Jack off. Phantom was really good at that playing friendly act! Wow!

(Surprisingly, the whole hunting bonding trip went weirdly well. Even if Danny was kinda disturbed and weirded out when his dad actually had him freaking carve up a deer and then just… told him to take out the heart and take a bite out of it. Since APPARENTLY that was ‘first kill’ tradition. Danny was disturbed. Danny absolutely had a really weird dream about cutting out his own heart and taking a bite out of it. Danny didn’t like that it didn’t taste bad. Danny had a lot of feelings about this. Jack… also took a photo and sent it to Vlad. Vlad was actually disturbed and called Danny personally to ask if he was safe and sane and that this wasn’t what he meant by halfas being apex predators. Danny threatened to bite his heart too. And his dad, only hearing half the conversation, seemed weirdly proud).

…

Jack basically barging into the lab, “so I ran into Phantom!”, holding up his catch, “and we can have rabbit stew tonight! Right?”.

Maddie grinning at him, “of course dear, just get It drained first”.

“Of course! And! Phantom totally said Danny can fly! Didn’t really confirm the bat thing but apparently Sam’s brushed him with a toothbrush before so I say I’m sold!”, tilting his head and humming, “the spook also implied Danny’s contamination makes him tougher with that sun sensitivity issue, so we don’t actually have to worry too much about that”.

Maddie sighs happy, “that’s great, and I’m sure he makes an adorable bat, if it’s a bat thing at all, but try not to tease him too much Jack? We want him to feel comfortable, not more awkward”.

Jack just laughs, rubbing his neck with his free hand before going upstairs to work on the rabbit. Him getting Danny to help when the boy gets home, the kid might be slightly weird about handling blood and raw meat but he needs to be used to it and to not act weird around it.

And if Danny licks his fingers clean then who’s he to judge? Sure he didn’t actually see his boy do that but well, one second his fingers and hands were a bit messy and then next second Jack looked and they were completely cleaned off. Danny-boy absolutely licked his fingers clean and nothing could convince Jack otherwise.

End.

(the message board referenced in here does actually exist for psych and sanguinarian vampires, Maddie and Jack have just misinterpreted it to also mean actual real life fanged non-human movie vampires. Also yes, if you didn’t know blood bars are a real thing, they are. Also also, blood in wine is a thing but it’s been banned since the 1930’s; but if you want to make your own wine out of blood you absolutely can, go wild.)

Prompt: Jack and Maddie knew something supernatural was going on with their son, waiting for him to feel comfortable telling them they set out to help him in subtler ways. If only they had actually gotten the species right.

[myloveharry]

Dating Harry James Potter Headcanons

Harry is an awkward bloke. So it would take time for him to adjust to the fact that he is in a relationship.

But once he's well adjusted, there's no better boyfriend than him.

Literally. He'd shower you with gifts, ask you ten times a day if you're doing okay, and always try to spend time with you every day.

He'd love it when you come to his Quidditch practice. He would feel proud of himself when you watch him practice. Also, you love him in his Quidditch uniform. (I mean, who doesn't?)

He's famous, so you get judgement from other people for dating him. Some people like you, many don't. And if that upsets you, Harry's always there to comfort you. He always assures you that he loves you for what you are, and couldn't care less about what other people thought.

He really means it. He truly loves you for what you are. Sometimes, he wonders how you agreed to date him. You, exceptionally beautiful and intelligent, decided to date him.

It is on those days when you have to console him that you love him.

This literally makes you two perfect for each other.

Harry's not the most careful person and often gets his glasses broken. He can repair them but loves seeing you do it for him.

You love his messy hair. And he loves it when you run your hands through it. At night, when you're under the covers, close to falling asleep, you absentmindedly stroke his hair, and he loves it and wants you to never stop.

Harry loves your voice. You're a lover of fictional novels, unlike Hermione, who loves reading about school instead. So, Harry wants you to read to him, all of those stories you love.

You're better than him at academics, and you often help him with homework and at the time of exams. He thinks that you look adorable while helping him, and sometimes even pretends to not understand something just for you to explain it to him.

Whenever he misses his parents, he isolates himself. One day, it was you who found him. He was at the top of the Astronomy Tower, wearing his invisibility cloak and sipping on butterbeer. He allowed you to come near him. The two of you stayed there cuddled together for the entire night, just staring at the stars, without speaking a single word.

But your companionship, love and support were all he needed.

He loves you beyond comprehension, and you're the single most important person in his life.

[administer-distractions]

.

[ryllen]

" ... as soft as talking to a new born, the voice you dream your children would hear during their bed time stories ... "