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tamayakii · 1 year

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Mare's Milk & Cider

warnings: drinking(reader has no specific age), story takes place in "second of his name" during Aegon's II celebrations, canon events basically. pairings: Otto Hightower x reader(can be seen as platonic/romantic), hotd x reader notes: thank you Aaliah, @genshinluvr, she helped me out with the ending!!! Let me know if you'd like to be in a tag list for this fic :) this fic is also paired up with this drawing i made!

“Then it lies with you, to make him see it.” Hobert advised, stepping closer to his younger brother, “Lord Hand” It did not go under Otto’s nose of what his brother was suggesting, reminding him of his own title.

His eyes never leave Hoberts as he considers his brothers' words, “and speaking of growing,” Otto follows Hoberts's moving gaze to the Princess, Angel of The Red Keep, adorned in a headdress with a long silk veil, dragons and stars embroidered in. Face decorated in Velaryon pearls, neck and fingers embellished with the finest green rubies, jades and agate the Hightowers could find.

“The fine lady y/n has grown to be a wondrous young woman, hasn’t she?” Hobert eyes do not hold simple admiration for a young girl grown, they hold more, and they contain something that Otto wants to snuff out with his bare hands.

“She is betrothed?” Hobert asks, looking back at his brother. “A fine woman like that cannot go un-married for long. With her and Rhaenrya combined, I can imagine the king's chambers are filled with betrothal letters.” Otto looks back at the Princess, watching as she plays with her new baby brother, covering her face and pulling her hands away quickly.

“A fine mother she will make as well, Aegon loves her.” The comment almost makes Otto snap, the thought of anyone being her husband or the father to her children makes a fire burst inside him. One Otto cannot explain reasonably, so he stifles it.

“She.. is not betrothed, Brother, I don’t think the King has any interest in marrying her off,” Otto answers, his lips tightening when his brother looks at him with a smirk. A near-knowing one that always made Otto furious since childhood.

“The king, or you?” Hobert quips, smirk widening when Otto’s face scrunches, nostrils flaring and wrinkles deepening. Hobert pats his shoulder as he begins to walk away, satisfied to get under his brother's skin.

No. Lady y/n shall not betrothed. Otto thinks, especially not to the likes of his brother. He watches as she laughs, throwing her head back and hand over her heart. Nothing, nothing could compare to her.

She steps away as the Lannister boy steps in, talking about the stepstones. She treats herself to the glorious spread on the table, picking out ham and grapes, plate barely complete- Otto steps in.

“Please, My Lady, have more” He helps fill her plate, and she shakes her head,

“You’re so sweet, Ser Otto, but i don’t think i can handle it. I am trying to watch my waist.” She responds, in a honey-sweet voice, one that cradles his entire being but her words make him roll his eyes.

“Treat yourself, My lady, we do not wish you to starve on such a good day. Now go ahead; eat before the long journey” Soon Viserys is at her side, like a dragon protecting its kin. All it takes is one look to make Otto step away,

“Come eat.” The king demands, “Fortify yourselves for the journey.” Otto watches her, keeping by her father’s side; Like a lamb to its mother. She looks over her shoulder and smiles at him--

☾

The trip to Kingswood is long and cold. Hand intertwined with Rhaenrya’s as you arrive, the loud crowd applauding for the king and new prince’s arrival but Rhaenrya makes no move to depart from the carriage.

“Rhaenrya?” Whispering as you scooch closer to the princess, “They await to see you” Still unmoving, all she does is blink. “Come.” standing up and pulling her along, “We will go together.” You step out of the carriage, with the princess alongside you.

“The Realms Delight herself; Princess Rhaenrya of Dragonstone! Accompanied by Princess y/n, Angel of The Red Keep!!” You squeeze her hand, looking at her. She looks at you with a somber smile, squeezing your hand back.

The roar of the crowd could blow you back, it will never not be jarring to be reminded of your station. A Princess. Not by blood but by word, and who would tell the king no? Who would dare say to King Viserys that his second daughter, whom his own late lady wife believed she had birthed her, cannot be a princess?

The celebrations are grand, the finest cakes and delights, the meat freshly hunted and prepared before your eyes. At your father's request, you stayed by his side, forcing you to leave Rhaenrya.

The glorious tent is filled with laughter and talk, and the smell of wine and cake fills your nose. Looking over to where the pregnant Queen Alicent sits, you realize she has been staring at you. You offer her a smile and she too offers one back.

Settling back into your chair, crossing your hands on your lap as you look above. Looking into the tiny details of the royal tent, the golden threads woven with black.

“Tired, my dragonling?” Viserys looks at you, reaching his free hand to yours- the other holding a goblet of wine. You reach over and hold his hand, As soon as he questions you, a yawn tries to force its way to your throat.

“The ride was tiring and too long for my tastes but--” you look to your father with a reassuring smile, “I shall be okay, After some food and rest, I'll be okay” he smiles back at you before taking another drink from his goblet.

Soon enough you’re offered your own goblet, filled with mare’s milk and honey. Time passes by slowly, you blink once and your father isn’t by your side anymore, It seems no one has noticed you dozed off. You promise yourself you won’t fall asleep but as you close your eyes and your goblet tips in your weak hand; the promise is broken.

“Is that all I am to you? A prize to be proffer about to the great houses?” Rhaenrya's voice makes you jump out of your short slumber, eyes wide like a deer as you begin to process the situation. As Viserys steps towards Rhaenrya, you push yourself out of your seat, setting your goblet down on the table beside you.

“You’re of age, Rhaenrya,” he points out, “and Jason Lannister is an excellent match,” he adds on. Oh. Oh no. Stepping towards the pair they seem not to notice you, there was no smooth way to stop this bickering. The two argue every day at least ever since Queen Aemma passed and especially since Viserys took Alicent to wife.

“He’s arrogant and self-serious” Rhaenrya argued, You wring your hands together anxiously. Watching the two fight as a bystander was like watching two lions fight, watching them as their family felt like two dragons fighting overhead. All that would follow would be the destruction of varying amounts that was left for you to pick up and fix, being both of their shoulders to lean on.

“Well, I thought you might have that in common” Even Lord Lyonel could feel the suffocating air around the two, taking a third step back. Sending you an apologetic look, the face Rhaenrya has is indescribable. Perhaps she wanted to scream at him, or even shocked that he would say such a thing, or maybe she had been at a loss for words.

Otto stalks closer from the sidelines, watching closely. This catches your eye, you try to breathe; knowing he is here comforts you. For nearly three years now, he has been your aid, your comfort and your closest friend- even despite the large age gap. You realize the tent has now fallen silent, and everyone listening in.

You quickly step to Otto’s side, seeking his silent comfort. You wish you could fix everything, and make everyone happy; even if it left your hands raw and bloody. If you could give your own heart for it; then you’d do it.

“Even I do not exist above tradition and duty, Rhaenrya!!” You cover your ears quickly, eyes wide with fear. Turning your body away from them, you began to feel violently aware of everyone's eyes on your family, some on you but mainly on the spectacle; The King and The Heir fighting on Aegon’s second name day.

When Viserys turns to Otto what he sees makes his flesh burn; You. So very close to Otto but turned away from him- Your father. It makes his blood boil, you should seek comfort from him. Not Ser Otto. You are his daughter. Not Otto’s.

Viserys soon leaves after the news of the white hart, but Otto stays, just for a moment. His gloved hand sitting on your shoulder, a reassuring hold. Your breath is shaky and your chest tight but you still manage to look at him through your eyelashes,

“Breathe, Princess.” He insists, and he maneuvers you towards your seat. Hand traversing to your lower back, “Sit and have some milk.” He gently puts your goblet back in your hand as you seat yourself. Feeble hands grip the handle, eyes drawn to the floor.

Otto tries to find the right words, he has never been a man of comfort. His hand hovers over your dropped head, unbeknownst to you. He sighs and takes his leave, passing his goblet to a maiden.

The day gets longer, Rhaenrya has run off with Criston following behind her. You knew it was against your set rules but you sank into your cups, after whispering to the help to fill your cups with cider but to not tell anyone else.

Your eyelids get heavy again, head tipping back. You love your family, you do. They took you in as a child, they gave you everything even despite the tight rules provided, sometimes… sometimes you wish that you took to a dragon and flew. Flew somewhere, to old Valryia or maybe to the free cities.

Then you’d be free.. but never truly free. Your love ties you down to your loved ones but that is the consequence of loving hard. Looking down into your cup, you swirl your drink. Taking a deep breath you look back to Alicent, she is already looking at you.

You wonder how long she has been staring at you and you tilt your head, she gestures for you to sit next to her. Another sigh leaves your mouth, slowly pushing yourself up.

“oh! princess, here allow me to help!” a maiden comes to your side, you wave her off as you give her the empty goblet. You keep your steps slow so as to not wobble, to others; you looked like you were gliding.

“My Queen.” you address as you sit beside her, Alicent quickly holds your hand closest to her. You are surrounded by the lady wives of many different men along with Larys Strong, the son of Lyonel Strong, the brother of Harwin “Breakbones” Strong.

“This is Viserys’s other daughter, Princess y/n” Remembering to keep your eyes open, you look around with a smile. “Dear y/n, how’s your day? you seem awfully tired.” Alicent asks with concern, one hand on her belly and other on your hand as she leans closer.

“I’m quite fine.” you mumble back, fighting your heavy lids as you nod. “The day is long… but soon we shall dine and turn in for the night.”

The conversations bore you, useless politics, rumors, marriages of lower houses. You wave over another servant with a sigh, already they know what you want. They deliver it, you try to hide the contents from Alicent but she notices.

“Cider?” She whispers tightly, holding the wrist that holds your goblet. Your nose flexes, “You know you cannot handle that.” She states, “a maiden your age shouldn’t even be holding a cup of cider.”

The rest of the ladies converse, and you are unbeknownst to another set of eyes on you. “Please. I will be fine.” you whisper, patting her hand and prying her tiny fingers off.

You take another big swig of your cider, almost finishing it all in one go. Looking over to Larys who has nearly burned holes into your head, nodding at him as a greeting.

“La-Larys.” you slur and he smiles at you, and you return it with a half one. The sudden need for fresh air sits in your lungs, eating you like a snake does a vole. Chugging your drink before shoving it in between the cushions of the seat, you stand up.

“I’m.. gonna go get some fresh air.” You announced, trying to make your way out of the once lovely group of women who now seem like a horde of gossiping vultures.

“Oh!” Lady Redwyne pops, “I heard that the hunters found a fat hog, they should be smoking it just now!”

The thought of watching them gut a pig to smoke makes your stomach turn, “thanks.. Lady Redwyne” You hurry out of the tent, the sun shining upon your skin. The pungent smell of burning meat and spices hits you, quickly turning away and scurrying to the back of the tent- where it was closer to the forest edge.

“ugh…. fuck.” You groan, kicking the dirt below you, the cider sticks to your insides like jam to bread. You ache to be in the comforts of the red keep, painting, or perhaps riding on horseback. You ache for a lot of things. Ache for the motherly hands of Aemma, to feel the embrace of someone you refuse to let yourself say. Perhaps you ache for the unmade.

You stand there, for minutes. Just staring into the bushes and trees, the arrival of the hunting party brings you back. Smoothing down the white lace on your dress, gulping down the fresh forest air; you return to the celebrations.

“Princess?” a feeble voice calls out, you look around and are surprised to see Larys.

“O-oh! Larys.. Larys, you surprised me.” You turn to the man hunched over his walking cane, leaning onto it. “How have you enjoyed my brother's second name day?” you ask, almost swallowing your tongue.

“it has been fine.. not that i can enjoy the most of it.” He moves his twisted foot, something that has dubbed him “The clubfoot” among gossipers. “But to be honest, i think i prefer talking with the maidens.” he adds, “they are far more gentler”

You nod along, eyes flickering over to the hunting party. Dogs held right by handlers, horses snorting and throwing their heads back as their riders dismount.

“But you..” he continues on “seem to be left to your own,” You still and wrong your hands together. Adjusting your stance as you feel yourself leaning, telling yourself to keep yourself together.

“Yes.. but it’s okay, I don't… don’t mind.” You reassure,

“I’m sure the cups of cider helped.” he smirks, knowing, your face flushed. How did he know? noticing your red face he chuckles,

“not to worry, Princess. I shall not tell anyone.” His eyes never leave yours, following your finicky gaze. It makes you uncomfortable, like a child being examined.

“I suppose it’s not-“

“You shall not tell anyone, what?”

you almost jump out of your skin, you turn so quickly that your head may have spun all around. Otto stands tall, chin up. Almost looking down upon Larys,

“Ser Otto” Larys addresses, if Larys was scared, he made no effort to show it. Your heart beats against your chest, “She was telling me a story; about Aegon.” You try to catch up to where Larys was, but he seemed to be a whole book ahead.

“ye… yes!” you stammer over words, “i uh, guess you could say i spoiled him despite Alicent request.” Otto's hard eyes soften when they land on you, it was a siren's song to your intoxicated state.

“The princess should be with the king.” Otto says, he offers you his arm and you reach for it.

“I was keeping the Princess company as she enjoyed the fresh air.” Larys explains, “She felt a bit queasy. I guess the mares' milk may have gone bad.” Otto looks down at your averted gaze, examining your state. Shuffling in your stance, flickering eyelids and subtle swaying.

“I see, I will look into that.” Otto puts his hand over yours, a grip to keep you near- not to comfort. “Come on, Princess.” He tries to walk you back, you step on your own foot as he does so.

“I think the princess would like to enjoy the fresh air longer.” Larys turns slowly, looking dead in Otto's eyes.

“The king has requested her presence” Otto's grip tightens, his nostrils flare. “but you can enjoy the air if you wish. I’m sure you won’t be bothered” Larys watches Otto lead you off into the tent, eyes never leaving you.

Entering the red tent filled with dozens of folk and your father right ahead, your sister is nowhere to be seen. You want to go home, you want to lie in your warm bed with Rhaenrya and wake up to braid each other's hair.

Soon you’re back in your chair, holding Viserys’ hand and Otto to your left. You stare off, taking a deep breath.

You would always be in the jaws of someone bigger, the dragons or the hounds. You’d bare your neck like a lamb, and hope for the dark delicate love.

Entwined in other people’s fate, all you can hope is that the fates bring you peace.

#HOTD x reader #yandere house of the dragon x reader #yandere hotd x reader #yandre house of the dragon #yandere hord #otto hightower x reader #yandere #Viserys Targaryen x reader #rhaenrya targaryen x reader #house of the dragon x reader #Larys Strong x reader #yandere Larys Strong #Yandere Otto Hightower #Yandere viserys targaryen #yandere rhaenrya targaryen

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damn-stark · 2 years

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Part 7 The family reunion

Part 7 of The Lion and The Dragon

A/N- True Lannister colors show in this chapter ;)

Warning- Violence, blood, talks of pregnancy and birth, fluff, Aegon, forced marriage, swearing, suggested sexual content.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x fem!Lannister reader

Episode- 1x08

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

*1 YEAR LATER*

“We have continued to enjoy improved custom duties since the settling of the stepstones,” Lyman Beesbury shares with the group. “And extent to which we exploit those is contingent on the harbor master’s receipts of which um, uh…”

You tune the old Lord out and begin to twist the ring Daeron gave you around your finger. You begin to space out and wish you could be out with Aemond doing anything else, or out with the baby; even if the baby does nothing much but cry to be with Aemond. At least it’d be far more entertaining than hearing this council.

“Thank you,” Alicent cuts off the old Lord, letting you focus back. “For that exhaustive accounting Lord Beesbury, I remind you—”

The door opens and Alicent pauses to focus on Ser Harrold walking in to give his announcement. “Your guests have arrived. Your Grace.”

You lower your gaze and listen to Lord Otto Hightower interject. “I trust they’ve been welcomed as befits their station.”

Even greeting Princess Rhaenyra and her family would’ve been more pleasant than serving wine in this dull meeting. No matter how informed you liked to be, none of what was discussed today was at all worth it.

“As you instructed, Lord Hand,” Ser Harrold says before he bows and walks out of the room, leaving the room with a bit more interest to be discussed.

“It was my understanding Lord Corlys wished for his grandson Lucerys to succeed him as Lord of the Tides.” Grand Maester Orwyle adds, piquing your interest since, well, everyone in this room knows why that should be a problem.

No one could actually say it, but you all knew the obvious reason.

“The boy has been raised most of his life away from Driftmark,” your uncle Tyland adds his opinion. “He can fly a dragon, yes, but can he command a fleet?”

Most likely not. As you’ve told Aemond and your uncle in one of your many gossip conversations, the Princess has babied her sons too much. They should be out learning rather than making things more suspicious by hiding them away like ladies.

“Ability does not alter claim,” Lord Beesbury says.

You sigh and share a quick look with your uncle before you grab the jug of wine and walk over to serve him as another Lord adds to the comment.

“The Seasnake has never formally named him as heir if it comes to that.”

You pull the jug away and walk back to your spot to continue listening more intently now.

“The crown must choose what is best for the realm,” the Lord Hand interjects.

“He is Laenor’s son,” Lord Beesbury argues. “What grounds could there be—”

“What indeed Lord Beesbury,” a Lord cuts the old man off. “What indeed.”

You glance at him and think about his insinuation and smirk to yourself.

“We shall hear Princess Rhaenyra’s petition along with those of the other claimants on the morrow,” Alicent adds to cut off the conversation that wouldn’t end well.

“But—”

Alicent begins to stand up and you straighten up to follow—“I do beg your pardon my lords, I must greet our guests,” she excuses herself, and as she walks out the Lords stand up, and you follow her, making sure to pat your uncle's shoulder.

He pats your hand on your way out, and you offer him a soft smile before pulling away and leaving the room. You want to say something off topic to Alicent but then Ser Erryk joins the Queen's side.

“A matter has arisen that requires your attention,” he shares.

“Whatever it is, Ser Arryk, it'll need to wait,” Alicent says, and you catch her mistake right away.

“I’m Erryk, your Grace,” the Knight corrects her.

“Of course. My apologies, Ser.”

“It’s about the Prince,” he quickly shares, making you slightly narrow your gaze. “There’s been a delicate situation in his apartments.”

Alicent finally comes to a stop, letting you all finally stop. She stays quiet and then glances over at you. “Y/N, you may take your leave. I need to figure this out.”

The plan was to greet the Princess and the Prince with her, but this new problem leaves no room to argue.

“You don’t wish for me to greet the Princess and her husband in your stead?” You ask.

Alicent shakes her head and sighs. “No, it’s quite alright, I’ll greet them after. Thank you.”

You offer her a smile before you head to your room now to change out of your dress and wear something more practical for training.

The moment you’re outside you see Aemond’s silver hair stand out first before anything else comes to view. He’s training with Ser Criston Cole, and a group of people watch them. When some of the women notice you they whisper to each other before parting away from the circle, leaving you a spot to watch as your husband deflects each swing with swiftness.

You hadn’t even noticed that Aemond had already seen you since the moment you walked out of the castle, so it’s a surprise when he calls you out as he has his back turned.

“Come to train, my love?”

You smile and watch as he turns away from Ser Criston to face you with a small smile.

You nod and wait for him to reach you. “Perhaps just one match. If it pleases you.”

Aemond smirks and leans down to steal a kiss from your lips before he caresses your jaw. “How was it?” He asks as he stays close.

You sigh dramatically. “Incredibly dull, Lord Beesbury has a way to lull you to sleep with his words. But, on more interesting news” you begin to smirk. “Your sister is here already.”

Aemond hums. “Is she? I forget about her in truth. I thought you were going to greet them with my mother.”

You nod. “I was but she went to deal with your brother first, so she let me go, and I came here.”

His smirk widens and he pulls away to walk with you to the racks. You immediately pick up a sword and a shield before facing him.

“I swear I’ll go easy,” you tease. “But I can’t promise I’ll let you win.”

Aemond snickers. “Wouldn’t wish it.”

You keep your eyes on him as you slowly walk past him, seeing him watch you the entire time with interest. He doesn’t even drop your gaze when he walks over to join you, you hold each other's gaze the entire time; as you fix your stance, as you begin to pace around him like a lion stalking its prey.

You hadn’t even noticed Ser Erwin join the crowd as he was finished sparring with Ser Arryk. All you focused on was Aemond, it let you catch his lunge in time to deflect it.

His smirk deepens at the action and he tries to catch you off guard by pretending to swing and instead deciding to slide forward to jab you, but you quickly use your shield and block him before pushing him back and dropping your sword to pull out your dagger. Just as you were going to point at his throat though, he pulls out a dagger himself and you both end up pointing at each other at the same time.

“Smart,” he compliments you.

You scoff and shake your head. “Not smart enough.” You sheath your dagger and pick up your sword again.

This time you throw your shield aside and attack first, but he quickly parrys and hits your hand with the bottom of his sword to unarm you.

Yet before he can do anything else, you kick him back. He chuckles and strides over to swing, but you quickly throw your head back and let the blade swing past your face. When you stand up straight you shoot him a smirk before spinning around to face him again on opposite sides.

Aemond holds your gaze and licks his lips before he strides over to lunge. You avoid his action and pull out a dagger, he catches your action albeit and picks up your sword off the ground to then watch you as you watch him.

A second passes before he grows impatient and flips the swords around to then swing down. You avert his action, but right away he kicks your knee before trying to jab your side. You falter but still try to avoid his action, yet he then uses the other sword to disarm you before quickly grabbing your wrist to spin you around and press you against his chest, and point his sword at your throat.

“Have you fallen behind, my love?” He teases against your ear.

You’re annoyed that he manages to win, but you can’t help but smile as you feel him, and hear his voice close by your ear.

“I’ve been pregnant,” you excuse your loss even if you’ve already returned to train three months ago.

Aemond scoffs. “And you trained for half of those nine months.”

You look up and barely catch a glimpse of his blue eye. “What can I say then?” You offer him a smirk and just hold his gaze until you push his arm off to pull away.

“Another round?” Aemond asks.

You sigh and take your sword from him as you shake your head. “I’ll watch for a few more minutes, maybe I’ll even spar the loser?”

He hums in agreement and doesn’t argue against you, so you return your sword to the racks and Aemond follows.

“Tell me now who you see behind us.” He asks.

You blink and discreetly glance over your shoulder, noticing two cloaked young boys, or so it seems by their stature. Yet you can’t see their faces since they have their backs turned.

“I don’t know,” you whisper. “Their backs are turned.”

Aemond smirks and meets your gaze. “Pay close attention.” He departs from the racks and returns to the circle to rematch against Ser Criston.

While you slowly rejoin the crowd, you keep an eye on the dark haired boys. Ser Erwin joins your side and follows your line of gaze.

“Who are they?” You ask.

Your Knight shrugs. “I don’t know, my Lady. They just walked in.”

You hum and look back at Aemond as he blocks Ser Criston’s swing. It’s in the moment that you pulled your eyes away from the boys that they actually joined the crowd—you can see them watching your husband carefully and with awe.

They don’t notice your stare, or the Knights beside you. Their obliviousness is what lets you study them, their young face, and thinner and shorter stature; their short and dark hair, and their pale face. They have on darker cloaks, gray with a very faint dark shade of blue. They stand out compared to the others gawking, it’s weird but that’s when it finally hits you, who they are; Jacaerys and Lucerys Velaryon.

Hmm.

When you heard that they didn’t look like they’re father you never actually imagined it’d be so obvious that they were…bastards. You always thought that it was an exaggeration, that people were being dramatic and hateful perhaps, but now as you see them with your own eyes it’s so obvious that they’re not Leanor Velaryon sons.

And it’s not their complexion that gives them away, but the lack of silver-white hair. Both Rhaenyra and Leanor have sliver-white hair after all, it’s a trait from their bloodline, something both boys should’ve gotten based on genetics. That’s the difference that makes it the most obvious. It’s what makes Lucerys claim laughable, they’re not fooling anyone. No matter how hard they try to argue for it, or the King's ignorance.

Regardless, you still approach them as they continue to watch Aemond and Ser Criston. You keep your own gaze on your husband even if your attention is on the boys.

“Great isn’t he?” You chime in and gain the youngest boy's attention. “Even for a man with one eye.” You smirk.

The boy next to you, the one you assume is Jacaerys, finally glances at you, but he doesn’t get to say anything since Aemond interrupts. “Nephews…” he puts his sword down and looks at them. “Have you come to train?”

Before Jacaerys can answer, an announcer interrupts. “Open the gates!”

Everyone’s attention goes to the gates to watch as they open and welcome in Velaryon bannermen, before the Lord Vaemond Velayron follows suit.

It’s not until he’s gone past the big doors that you notice Aemond behind you.

“Nephews,” he greets both boys. “You’ve met my wife I see. The Lady y/n Lannister.” He glances at you. “My love, these are my nephews Jacaerys…”

The Princess’s heir.

“…and Lucerys.”

The boy who took out Aemond’s eye.

You glance at Aemond as he falls at your side and then at the boys. “It’s honor,” you curtsy. “My Princes.”

“Likewise, my Lady,” Jacaerys says. “I would just like to say that it’s quite impressive seeing you wield a sword. I’ve never seen a woman actually use it in public as bravely as you.”

You scoff in amusement. “Thank you, but trust me it has not been so easy, or without judgment. Aemond helps though.” You smile and blink to look at Lucerys standing behind his brother without adding anything, he just keeps glancing at Aemond, at the patch over his eye socket.

Now that you look at him, as he stands there in front of you, you wonder how someone so innocent and sweet looking could do what he did? By appearances it just doesn't seem like he could even if he did.

“I hope,” you continue and look away. “We get to know each other more before your leave back to Dragonstone. I’d love to hear about Aemond when he was young.”

“We shall,” Jacaerys agrees. “And maybe we can spar soon as well.”

You grin and nod. “Yes, that would be great. Anyway,” you sigh. “I’ll leave you boys, I need to go see my baby.” You smirk and take one last look at the guys before breaking away from the group. And just as you think you’ll go alone, Aemond follows.

“You see it?” He asks in a whisper as you approach the stairs.

You meet his gaze from the corner of your eyes and nod. “I see it. It’s a bit too obvious.”

Aemond hums in agreement and you both take one last look at both boys.

——

*A COUPLE MONTHS AGO*

Pain, cramps, and more pain is all that’s felt, it’s overwhelming, loud, and blinding every few minutes. It’s annoying too, irritating.

Sweat damps your skin and makes your clothes stick onto your body. A nauseating smell infiltrates your nose, something that’s supposed to calm you down only pisses you off more; just like Aemond’s never ending pacing that seems to sound loud in your ears.

“Stop,” you mutter. “Nothing is going to change with you pacing like that.”

Aemond comes to a halt and sighs deeply. “If it comes to it,” he says and turns around to face you. “I’ll choose you. I won’t hesitate.”

You swallow thickly and meet his gaze, catching no sign of dishonesty in his eye. He actually looks slightly frightened, nervous (obviously), but not dishonest.

“I’ll pick you,” he repeats himself.

It may be cruel to admit but you find it comforting that he says that. Yet a part of you doubts him if the baby turns out to be a male. An heir.

“Come,” you demand and pat the empty side beside you.

Aemond sighs and approaches you but he doesn’t sit, he stays standing and keeps looking at you as if he could feel your pain, as if it hurt him too.

“And if it’s a boy?” You ask out of curiosity.

Aemond slightly narrows his gaze as if your question offended him, and scoffs. “Do you really expect me to love that baby if it takes you away from me?” He retorts and crouches down by your bedside. “Boy or girl I don’t care, I will pick you.” He grabs your hand and presses a gentle kiss on your knuckles. “You're mine. It will always be you. To the end of my days.”

Your heart flutters and a smile manages to grow on your lips. “I won’t let the baby take me then.” You assure him before you reach for his cheek to gently begin to caress it. “But swear to me when the baby is here you’ll let them see you without the eyepatch. They’ll see you as you are.”

Aemond nods, and you begin to grin, but instantly lose all your amusement as another wave of pain slams into you. This time instead of walking off to pace, Aemond stays beside you. Even as the pain becomes more consistent he stays by your side and doesn’t let your hand go.

He stays, but, the moment the baby comes out and the first cry breaks the silence born out of fear they wouldn’t be alive, he lets you go and stands up to watch as the midwives wrap up the tiny baby.

He stares at them in disbelief even as they walk over to him with the little bundle.

“It’s a girl,” one of the midwives announces and makes you grin and laugh softly—“You wish to hold her?” She asks Aemond.

Aemond keeps his eye on the baby and swallows thickly before he slowly puts out his hands to receive the baby in his arms.

The moment the midwife steps away and lets Aemond hold her, he glances at you with that same disbelief, before looking back at the baby and lifting one hand to slowly pull off his eyepatch and reveal the sapphire hidden under it. He then proceeds to carefully use his thumb to caress her cheek before slowly grinning down at her.

“Visenya,” he whispers softly. “Such a fitting name for my little delight.” He glances at you and his grin deepens before he slowly crouches down to hand her to you.

Once you have her in your arms. As you see her, her perfect little face and her beautiful silver-white hair, you can’t help but beam at her as tears stream down your eyes.

“She’s perfect,” you cry out of happiness.

Aemond finally sits beside you and watches you hold little Visenya in awe. You look up at him and meet his gaze to share your smile, and he leans in and presses a kiss on the side of your head.

——

…it would be a pleasure to meet my grandchild, Visenya, as soon as we can and it is convenient for you, my daughter.

Your father, Jason Lannister.

You sigh and lower the letter to your lap, letting the little four month old baby come to view.

All throughout the nine months your father knew about your pregnancy he only sent about two letters and showed little interest. Now after four months of being born he only seems so excited because of what was born to little Visenya a month ago, her little scaled and winged companion. Can’t he be anymore obvious.

“Why do you think your grandsire wants to meet you, hm?” You ask the little baby too preoccupied with the wooden lion Ser Erwin had gifted you a year ago. “Is it because he suddenly does care, or because he wants to meet little…moonlight?” You glance at the little baby dragon sleeping beside Visenya and stare at for a second before shaking your head. “That doesn’t sound right. Any ideas, little delight?”

The baby giggles at her little lion and doesn’t even bother to look at you, so you sit back and admire the dark purple dragon balled up by Visenya’s head—at night he appears black like the night sky, but when the moonlight or the sun kisses his scales, they gleam a very dark purple. When he flaps his wings and stretches them out his membrane is black. He’s elegant, majestic, and so very sweet to little Visenya, very protective at such a young age too. He deserves a mighty name.

“What do you think Helaena?” You ask and look over at your goodsister.

However, Helaena is focused on the flower she’s holding and mumbles, “there is a beast beneath the boards.”

She’s said that multiple times already, sometimes she tells you directly, but other times she just mumbles it to herself. You still can’t find the meaning behind it though. Aemond and Alicent say not to worry, but there must be a reason why she keeps saying it. You just don’t know yet.

“What about you Ser Erwin?” You ask your Knight as he stands a few feet away from the patch of grass you were resting on.

The Knight looks over at you at the sound of his name and then hums to hear the question again.

“A name for Visenya’s dragon? I can’t think of one.” You share.

Ser Erwin glances at the dragon and sighs deeply before he shrugs and chuckles softly. “Maybe Storm?”

You smile sweetly and nod. “I’ll take it under consideration, thank you.” You look back at your baby and grin. “Visenya really loves the lion, you know,” you continue to tell him. “The one you gifted me.”

Ser Erwin meets your gaze and smiles. “Does she?”

You nod. “Yes, she does. Ser Robert sent her a little dragon and a little cat doll, but she prefers my wooden lion.” You grin at him and he holds your gaze until you look back at Visenya.

He albeit lets his eyes linger on you, he watches as you begin to play peek a boo with the baby to make her laugh. He sees your smiles, he admires it until the sound of a nearby voice snaps his attention away.

“Lady y/n. Princess.”

You look up at the sound of your name and see Lady Baela and Lady Rhaena walking over, so Helaena and you stand up to greet them.

“Lady Baela,” you curtsy at the girl you saw once a few months ago.

“Lady Rhaena.” She’s the only one you haven't met since she has been in Dragonstone, but as far as appearances go she wasn’t identical to Baela. Unlike her sister, her hair wasn’t loose, it was twisted into locs. Her face appeared to be kinder than her sisters which appeared to be intimidating in ways. They were both very beautiful though. Majestic just like every other person with Valyrian blood.

Regardless, Helaena greets them too and the Targaryen twins offer you both genuine smiles.

“It is a pleasure seeing the both of you out in the gardens,” you say and mean it. As far as resentment for the past, you held none against them since it was not your business, especially since they are not the ones that blinded Aemond.

Actually you quite liked Lady Baela. She was very kind and you had much in common the last time you met. Sure she did not stay for too long, and not much was brought up about the past last time, but you did end up talking to each other for a few hours; you laughed, gossiped and talked some more. It was nice, refreshing having someone to actually talk to. All the other girls you are friends with work here for you, so it doesn’t feel as genuine some of the times, but with Baela it felt great to laugh with her because she actually meant it.

And maybe talking to her reminded you of Nyra, the relationship you miss. Helaena is sweet, she’s funny when she can be, but that bond you had with Nyra was different, and that night with Baela felt like being with her again.

“Please join us. We were just taking in the sun.”

Both girls don’t question your invitation and sit on the blanket you had spread over the grass.

“Thank you,” Rhaena says once she’s sat.

“I had the intention to go greet the both of you sooner, but I lost track of time,” you admit and look down at Visenya. “Sorry.”

Lady Rhaena shakes her head gently and assures you. “It’s alright, we understand, I hope we can speak now, if that’s alright.”

You nod. “Yes, it is, Visenya just ate, so she should be content for a while longer.”

“Visenya,” Baela says with a soft smile. “That’s the babes name? I thought it was going to be—”

“No,” you cut her off with a smile. “We do not talk about that. I was clearly not thinking straight that night.”

Baela smirks at you before she snickers

“Anyway, yes, this is my little Visenya.” You reach over for the baby to carry her in your arms. You brush her little silver hair out of her eyes, and that’s when both girls narrow their eyes to try and take a better look as they’re both caught off guard by Visenya’s eyes.

“Are her eyes…” Baela mutters and then lifts her gaze to meet yours. “Are her eyes violet?”

You smile over at Visenya and nod. “Yes. The Maester says it is a defect that must have happened when she was in the womb, but, I would rather agree with Aemond and say that it is a blessing from the gods.”

“It truly is,” Rhaena says sweetly. “Can she see?”

You nod. “Yes she can. Her eyes work fine, it’s just the color that’s unique.”

“May I hold her?” Baela asks.

Without hesitance you hand her the baby, and right away as if somehow someone alerted the dragon, Visenya’s dragon wakes up and immediately watches Baela as she holds Visenya. He stays put and doesn’t keep his eyes off her.

“Such a fitting name for a little warrior,” Baela tells the baby, and Visenya just keeps holding her lion.

“I hope the Red Keep has been kind,” Helaena says. “I know it’s your first time here Rhaena, it must be a bit overwhelming.”

Said girl nods. “Yes it is, but the Red Keep has been kind, Princess Rhaenyra has been very kind and shown me what she can.”

“That’s good. And the garden? Do you like it?” Helaena asks.

Rhaena nods. “Yes they’re quite beautiful.”

You nod in agreement and then look over at Baela. “Have you told your father yet?”

Baela eyes land on you and she lowers the baby to let her sit on her lap. “No,” she admits. “There has not been the right time. I just saw him actually after a long time.”

You begin to fiddle with the grass and scoff softly. “You know I told you already that I doubt your father would care. He might even teach you.”

Rhaena looks between the both of you in confusion before she asks her question. “Ask father what?”

Baela sighs. “How to wield a sword. I want him to teach me the way Aemond teaches y/n.”

You smirk and look between the both of them, noticing Rhaena looks quite shocked but not upset, just surprised.

“And you know, if anyone has shit to say, simply eat them with your dragon.” You share lightheartedly. “Fear me people for I am a dragon goddess. That’s what you all say.” You giggle and throw your hands out, and Baela smirks and rolls her eyes as she tries not to laugh, whilst Helaena and Rhaena laugh at your comment.

“Hey,” you keep saying. “Maybe ask Prince Jacaerys,” you tease. “Have him teach you how to wield a sword, and have him press you against his chest.” You grin. “That’s how I wooed my lover. Sword fighting.”

Rhaena nudges Baela, and Baela just scoffs. The conversation continues between the four of you, you all get along very well, you end up sharing tips on married life, and tips on motherhood. You share jokes and laugh at them, you get along under the sun, and it was truly a pleasure.

As much as you love Aemond’s company, he’s not a girl, he doesn’t understand a lot of things you deal with. They do though, all of them and it feels nice bonding over that. Besides, Rhaena and Baela had names ideas for the baby dragon since you were stuck. That was also a very good win.

Regardless, now that you were all heading back inside the castle all together, there Aemond was, leaning against the gates frame, watching and waiting. Not like it matters, it makes you happy, so you excuse yourself and hand the dragonkeeper the baby dragon before you rush over to Aemond with Visenya in your arms.

“Aemond,” you greet with a beaming grin.

Aemond pushes himself off the gates frame and meets your gaze with a smirk. Once you reach him he grabs your cheek and you share a deep kiss.

“How are my girls?” He asks quietly so no one could hear him.

“Good, ready to head inside and take a nap.” You answer and look at Visenya.

Aemond hums and then focuses on Visenya, he smiles softly whilst the baby begins to kick her feet and smile as she sees her father.

“My little delight,” he says and takes her from you since that’s what the baby wanted.

“Okay,” you sigh as you both begin walking inside together. “I thought of some names. Storm, Volos, Nightwing, Eris, Nyx, or…that’s it.” You huff.

Aemond hums and glances at you before glancing at the baby. “Why not let her choose when she gets older?”

You look over at him and hesitate before you nod. “That would work too.”

He hums.

You smile and sigh with relief. “Thank you, now I can stop stressing about it.” And just as you were going to mention your fathers letter, just as you walk inside you run into Aegon.

“Brother,” he says as if relieved. “There you are.” He looks over and smirks. “My sweet goodsister. And my favorite niece.” He meets his brother halfway and gets in between Aemond and you.

“What do you want, Aegon?” Aemond deadpans.

“Or is that you have finally made something of your day,” you quip and earn a snicker from Aegon— “Besides drinking?”

“Not quite,” he retorts and then grabs his brothers shoulder to lower his voice. “I have come to ask Aemond something, and y/n if you want to get in this you are welcome to.”

Aemond sighs and you answer for him. “What is it?”

“As we all know, Aemond our sister is here, along with her are her sons, Jace and Luke, what are we going to do about that?”

Aemond and you share a passing glance before you both look at Aegon.

“Nothing Aegon;” you turn him down. “You are not going to do anything. Need I remind you your age? Or the fact that they are here for business. Meaning you need to be on your best behavior.”

Aegon yawns and rolls his eyes. “What a bore that is. You sound like Aemond. No fun whatsoever.”

You scoff. “I can be fun, my fun albeit, doesn’t involve tormenting little boys anymore.”

“Anymore?” Aegon probes with a half grin and wraps his arm around your shoulder. “Please pray tell.”

You glance at him and shrug. “When I was young, little boys were all a bunch of stuck up shits that liked to push me and some girls around, so I taught them a thing or two.” You smirk. “Let’s just say they never messed with me again.”

Aemond snickers and Aegon smiles proudly.

“So tell me. What was it?” Aegon asks.

You shake your head and push him away. “Nothing. Because we are not to mess with the boys.”

Aegon sighs deeply and drags his feet. “Okay, maybe verbal torment?”

You roll your eyes and sigh. “No. Just stick with maybe…discreet verbal jabs?”

Aegon shoots you a grin and nods in agreement. “See, I knew there was a reason I liked you.” He claps his hands and begins to walk away from Aemond and you. “Thank you. I will keep it in mind.”

You offer him a partial wave and when he’s out of sight Aemond and you just sigh.

——

*THE NEXT DAY*

There were murmurs heard about the throne room, all conversations kept between one another as you all waited for The Hand to start the petition on behalf of Princess Rhaenyra, and Lord Vaemon.

“He did what?” You ask Aemond in a low whisper so those around you wouldn’t hear.

“My mother didn’t tell you?” He asks.

You shake your head. “No. She dismissed me yesterday but didn’t tell me the reason. Now it makes sense…” you pause and you both glance at Aegon since it’s him who you were talking about, what he did to one of the serving girls.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” You ask Aemond as you focus back on him.

Aemond meets your gaze. “I only just found out as well,” he shares.

You hum in comprehension and steal one last piercing glare at Aegon.

As far as he goes, he’s not your favorite brother whatsoever, he was nice to you, sure, he treats you like a sibling does, but well…it’s hard to really tolerate him when he does stuff like that to girls.

That’s why Daeron is the better brother. Not only because he’s been keeping in touch with you since he sent his first letter, but because he's simply better.

“And Helaena?” You ask. “Does she know?”

Aemond shakes his head. “No. Mother says it’s best if she does not know, so please do not mention it.”

You sigh and nod. “Of course. It’s just…it’s just sad you know. She’s always been kind to me and to keep things from her.” You sigh deeply again. “I mean I would want someone to tell me.”

Aemond grabs your chin and slightly tilts his head. “I understand, but my sister is sensitive, she’s not like you, it's best if she’s kept in the dark about it.”

You nod hesitantly. “Right,” you agree. “And you,” you begin to tease him. “Would you want me kept in the dark?”

Aemond begins to smirk. “Well, I would never do that, I respect and love you too much.”

You smile and grab his hand. “But if you did?” You insist.

He leans in to whisper in your ear. “Oh I am sure you would figure it out. You and your little birds.”

You smirk and begin to fiddle with the small shard of dragon glass that dangles from the sapphire on your necklace. “That’s right I would. And then I would cut your balls off.”

Aemond chuckles. “Are you threatening me, my love?”

You shake your head. “No, I’m warning you.” You grin mischievously, and Aemond pulls back to steal a kiss.

“<That’s my girl.>” He murmurs in High Valyrian against your lips.

You grab his arm and hold his gaze to share an enamored gaze.

“Aemond,” his mother calls. “Y/N.”

You pull away right away and Aemond lingers by you before you both walk to your spots by the family to begin hearing the petition.

“Though it is the great hope of this court Lord Corlys Velaryon survives his wounds,” Lord Otto speaks as he begins to slowly sit down on the Iron Throne. “We gather here with the grim task of dealing with the succession of Driftmark. As Hand I speak with the King’s voice on this and all other matters.” The Lord Hand finally sits down and continues. “The crown will now hear the petitions. Ser Vaemond of House Velaryon.”

You clasp your hands in front of you and watch as the Lord steps to the front of the audience to speak. “My Queen. My Lord Hand. The History of our noble houses extends beyond the Seven Kingdoms, in the days of Old Valyria. For as long as House Targaryen has ruled the skies, House Velaryon has ruled the seas. When the Doom fell on Valyria our houses became the last of their kind. Our forebearers came to the new land, knowing that were they to fall it would mean the end to their bloodlines and name.”

You drop your gaze and mess with your lion ring before putting your hands behind you and looking up. That’s when you catch the gaze of another Targaryen man, same Silver-white hair, same piercing gaze, and same majestic beauty they all seem to have; Prince Daemon Targaryen. Baela’s father.

His eyes meet yours from across the Throne room, he holds your gaze for a moment, and you hold his out of curiosity and confusion before the corner of his lips twitch up and he looks away.

If Nyra were here now and she saw, she’d freak out, saying complete stupid things as she swooned for you. Whilst you’d be confused as you are now. It’s just, why did he smirk?

Did he find it funny that you were standing amongst the family? Because if so you could also point out that Princess Rhaenyra’s sons are clearly bastards, it’s as plain as day, especially since it was said that her late husband preferred the company of men. They are not fooling anyone.

Regardless, you still are curious as to why the Prince would even glance at you.

“….The true, impeachable blood of House Velaryon runs through my veins,” you hear Ser Vaemond say as you focus back on him.

“As it does in my sons the offspring of Laenor Velaryon,” Princess Rhaenyra interjects. “If you cared so much about your house's blood, Ser Vaemond, you would not be so bold as to supplant its rightful heir. No, you only speak for yourself and for your own ambition—”

“You will have a chance to make your own petition, Princess Rhaenyra,” Alicent cuts her off. “Do Ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing his to be heard.”

Said man looks at the Princess, but she immediately looks away the moment he turns.

“What do you know of Velaryon blood Princess?” Ser Vaemond asks her rhetorically. “I could cut my veins and show it to you and you still wouldn’t recognize it. This is about the future and survival of my house, not yours.” He turns away from the Princess now and continues.

You proceed to let your hands go and inch closer to Aemond. When your shoulder brushes his arm he glances down at you and meets your gaze for a brief second before he offers you a faint smirk. He then drops his hands clasped behind him to let his fingers hook around yours.

“This is a matter of blood, not ambition.” You listen to Ser Vaemond say as you look over at him again—“I place the continuation of the survival of my house and my line above all. I humbly put myself before you as my brothers successor. The Lord of Driftmark and the Lord of the Tides.”

“Thank you, Ser Vaemond,” The Lord Hand says, letting the man walk back to his previous spot so the Princess could say her petition now—“Princess Rhaenyra, you may now speak for your son Lucerys Velayron.”

The Princess walks to the front of the audience and begins. “If I am to grace this farce with some answer, I will start by reminding the court that nearly twenty years ago. In this very—” she stops as the doors begin to open, pulling everyone's attention to the end of the room to see the King slowly making his way in.

“King Viserys of House Targaryen,” a Knight announces. “The first of his name….”

Your eyes widen in shock to what you see, and it feels as if the room even stands at standstill.

“…King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First men. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm!”

The King slowly begins to make his way down the steps, keeping at his own pace as he steps down on the floor since he’s writhing in pain with each step he takes. Once he reaches the steps that lead to the throne, Knights rush over to help him, but he refuses and sends them away.

It’s an admiring act, but when he begins to climb the stairs his crown falls off his head. You look over at Aemond when it does, and he simply just meets your gaze and stays there before you both look over and see Prince Daemon helping the King sit on this throne before placing his crown back on.

When the prince returns to his spot, the King addresses the audience. “I must…admit…my confusion. I do not understand why petitions are being heard over a settled succession. The only one present who might offer keener insight into Lord Corly’s wishes is the Princess Rhaenys.”

Everyone glances over at her, and she interjects. “Indeed.” She proceeds to step up and continues. “It was ever my husband's will that Driftmark pass through Ser Laenor to his true born son…Lucerys Velaryon. His mind never changed. Nor did my support of him. As a matter of fact, the Princess Rhaenyra has just informed me of her desire to marry her sons Jace and Luke to Lord Corlys granddaughters. Baela and Rhaena. A proposal to which I heartily agree.”

You smile for the girls and reach for Aemond’s hand as he clasps them behind him again. When he feels your touch he secures his hold around your hand and doesn’t let your hand go.

“Well…the matter is settled,” the King says. “Again. I hearby reaffirm Prince Lucerys of House Velayron as heir to Driftmark. The Driftwood Throne, and the next Lord of the Tides.” He wheezes and the matter should’ve been left alone now, but Ser Vaemond cuts in angirly.

“You break law, and centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir..”

You roll your eyes at that argument.

“…yet you dare tell me…who deserves to inherit the name Velayron. No,” he mutters. “I will not allow it.”

“Allow it?” The King retorts. “Do not forget yourself, Vaemond.”

Ser Vaemond suddenly shifts around to point at Lucerys. “That is no true Velayron,” he shouts, making you move your hand to grab Aemond’s arm—“Certainly no nephew of mine.”

“Go to your chambers,” Princess Rhaenyra tells her children before returning to adress Ser Vaemond. “You have said enough.”

“Lucerys is my true born grandson,” the King clarifies. “And you…no more than the second son of Driftmark.”

You scoff in amusement.

“You,” Ser Vaemond argues. “May run your house as you see fit…but you will not decide the future of mine. My house survived the Doom. And a thousand years of tribulations besides. And gods be damned I will not see it ended on the account of this…” he pauses and turns his head.

“Her children…are bastards!” He bellows, making the King stand up, and making Aemond begin to smirk—“And she…is…a whore.”

You gasp softly in surprise simply over the fact that he would dare say that in front of the King.

“I,” the King groans and pulls out his dagger. “Will have your tongue for that.”

Yet before he could even try to go down the stairs suddenly the sound of a metal hitting against flesh fills the room, gasps follow, and Aemond suddenly pushes you back and keeps one arm on you. When you look over at where the commotion comes from you're shocked to see part of Ser Vaemond’s head falling to the ground.

“He can keep his tongue,” Prince Aemond quips as he puts his sword down.

“Disarm him!” The Knights yell, but the Prince just assures them and cleans his swords as he steps back, letting you finally take in what happened, and ending up slowly smirking as you think of what Prince Daemon just did in defense of his wife and her son.

It was admirable, and well…very fucking impressive. He was impressive.

However, as everyone was focusing on what had happened, the King falls back to his chair, causing Alicent to rush over to help him.

The Maesters and the Knights then rush over to help him out too, whilst you walk over to Helaena’s side as she keeps her ears plugged after the incident with Ser Vaemond ensued.

“It’s okay,” you mutter and grab her arm.

Helaena keeps her ears plugged but looks over at you. You proceed to offer her a soft smile and turn her away from the dead body bleeding out on the ground.

“Let’s get out of here, yes?” You tell her softly.

Helaena nods and lets you walk her out. She lets you walk her through some halls, out to the gardens and finally to the library where she finally feels calm after the walk.

“Now, we will leave to go get ready for dinner, okay?” You say.

Helaena offers you a small smile and nods in agreement.

“But first,” she interjects. “Can you stay and wait for me? I want to get a book from here first.”

You nod without hesitance and stay back to wait for her where you are.

When you lose her figure throughout the rows of bookcases you turn to go sit, but end up catching Prince Daemon wandering closeby.

He notices you right away—or finally catches you alone and meets your gaze with a partial smile before he chooses to approach you.

“Lady Lannister,” he greets.

The walk must’ve been longer than you thought if he’s already here all by himself.

“Prince Daemon,” you greet in return and curtsy.

Prince Daemon stops a couple feet away and keeps that same partial smile on his face as he clasps his hands in front of him. “It’s an honor finally getting to meet you,” he surprises you by saying.

You giggle and shake your head as you drop your eyes.

“What?” He retorts seriously. “What’s so funny? I heard that the Lady Lannister has more balls than her twin fathers combined.”

You scoff in amusement and glance up at him, noticing he was closer now, his stance wasn’t stiff, his eyes were still on you and his smile was turned to a smirk.

“Well if that’s so then please make sure to tell my father,” you retort a bit more collected. “He’ll rejoice and maybe finally give me what belongs to me.”

Prince Daemon chuckles and stays quiet for a moment before he glances around briefly. “Regardless, I hope,” he says with a sigh and meets your gaze. “That my display of violence today didn’t disturb you.”

You scoff in amusement and shake your head. “Not at all, I found it quite exciting actually. I mean it added excitement to a rather boring petition. No offense.”

Prince Daemon shakes his head and takes a step closer to you. “Not at all because the petition was unnecessary.”

You smile and nod. “Exactly, so maybe I should thank you. Besides, I found your actions quite….admiring.”

Prince Daemon smirks and slowly begins to close the large gap between you. “Is that so?” He probes.

You hum and watch drop his gaze briefly before lifting his eyes and meeting your gaze as you watch him closely.

“I hope that I get to see your swordsmanship for myself before I leave back to Dragonstone,” Prince Daemon interjects and slowly begins to walk around you, making you turn with him so you can keep your eyes on him.

You then chuckle and shake your head. “I’m afraid I am not worth watching. I am not as skilled as you or my husband,” you protest.

Daemon scoffs. “You’re being modest, my Lady.”

You shrug and hold his gaze. “Maybe,” you snap smugly.

“Well,” he sighs. “I hope I get to see it for myself. A one on one.” Prince Daemon stops walking and stands a few inches away now. He holds your gaze and keeps on his faint smirk, whilst you clasp your hands in front of you and offer him a sweet smile.

“We’ll have to see won’t we, I mean I have heard a lot of things about you.” You mention.

Daemon slightly narrows his eyes out of curiosity. “Good I hope?” He asks.

You shrug. “Depends on who you ask.”

He shoots you a pointed gaze and probes. “What have you heard?”

You draw in a deep breath and sigh. “That you are a legendary sword fighter as well as a dragon rider,” you share.

“You flatter me,” he scoffs.

You shake your head and retort. “I’m only stating the truth. It’s what you wanted, no?”

Daemon scoffs softly and nods before blinking and offering you a small smirk. “I’ve heard you are more of a dragon than a lion now.”

You snicker and slightly tilt your head. “Is that so?” You press.

His smirk deepens and before he can respond one of the castle workers walks up to you and hands you a scroll. “Here, My Lady,” she says. “It’s from the orphanage at Flea Bottom.”

You grab her hands and bow your head. “Thank you, Sasha.”

The brunette smiles at you and then leaves, letting you turn away from the Prince to open the scroll and read the words written on it.

“From the bottom of our hearts we thank you Lady Lannister for your generous donation. I hope the gods bless you and yours.

~ The children and everyone at the Mothers Home For Children.”

You smirk with pride at the words and begin to roll it back as the Prince interjects. “Good news?”

You nod and glance at him. “Excellent,” you share with a grin, and end up looking away first as you see Helaena approaching. “Ready?” You ask her.

As Helaena reaches your side she notices who you’re in front of and offers him a smile. “Uncle,” she greets.

He offers her a faint smile and bows his head. “Niece.”

You grab Helaena’s arm and glance at the Prince one last time. “We will see each other at dinner later, goodbye Prince Daemon.” You offer him one last smile and turn Helaena to begin walking out, letting him watch you both leave.

——

*LATER*

As far as family dinners go, they were okay, they were usually worth looking up to now, but this time, tonight wasn’t so appealing. Having all of them in one room was like chaos waiting to happen. It made you want to stay and eat dinner with Aemond in your shared quarters. And he wouldn't be against it either considering he doesn’t want to go, but you were all going for his father.

“How’s that?” He asks.

You glance up and notice he’s looking at the strings in the back of your dress.

“That’s good,” you assure him as you keep looking at him, watching as he knots the string, taking in the feeling of his hands on you, feeling his gentle breath unfurl on the back of your neck, and catching his stolen glance he shot your way.

When he notices you catch him, he looks down and pulls his hands away as he finishes.

“Beautiful,” he says.

You smile and keep your eyes on him. This time he looks up again and scoffs. “What?”

You smirk slowly and turn to face him, he meets your gaze and waits for a response. “Just admiring you, that’s all,” you say sweetly.

Aemond scoffs again and drops his gaze once more. He never takes compliments so well, he’s always so timid about them. It’s adorable.

“What?” You retort softly and close the small gap left between you to fiddle with the buckles of his leather dress coat.

Aemond slowly looks up at you and begins to smirk whilst he grabs your necklace to fiddle with that himself. You grin and place your hands on his chest before sliding them up to his shoulders.

“Maybe,” you begin to suggest in a whisper. “We can steal some time for ourselves, hm? Visenya is not here, we’re all alone.”

Aemond slowly tilts his head and licks his lips as he glances at yours. “We’ll be late,” he says.

You shrug. “So?” You argue. “We don’t have to take long. You wouldn’t even have to take off my dress, just a minute or two.”

Aemond leans in so his lips are close to your ear, sending shivers down your spine. He slowly parts his lips and sniffs your neck, getting a whiff of the perfume he liked so much before pulling back to press a kiss on your jaw.

You immediately smile and wrap your arms around his neck as he places his hands on your hips.

Aemond then kisses a trail along your jaw until he reaches your lips and pauses. You grow impatient so you lean in and kiss him, biting his bottom lip just slightly before adding more desperation to your kiss.

He chuckles at your action and then pushes you back to the bed. You beam up at him as he hovers over you and traps your head between his hands.

“Maybe,” you murmur and grab his collar to pull him closer. “We can make another baby. Maybe a boy this time.”

Aemond offers you a half grin and huffs. “As long as they’re fierce like they’re mother, I don’t care what they are,” he says and lets you pull him in for a kiss.

When you pull away you flip him around and lay above him, he proceeds to cup your cheek with one hand, but you grab his hand and push it down to your throat so he can wrap his fingers around it.

He snickers and kisses you first this time, unable to keep his hands from hiking up your skirt. Just as he was going to begin pulling down your undergarments a knock raps on your door, causing him to groan and for you to pull back.

“Who is it?!” You shout to the visitor.

“It’s Helaena!” She reveals herself. “I thought we could walk to dinner together?!”

You glance down at Aemond and snicker at him before fully pulling away from him and landing your feet on the floor. “Yes! That would be great, I will be out!”

You turn and watch Aemond pick himself off the bed to begin following you.

“Maybe, your little delight can sleep in the children’s room tonight?” You suggest smugly.

Aemond hums as you open the door to see Helaena waiting outside patiently.

“You look lovely,” she compliments and hooks her arm around yours.

You offer her a kind smile. “As do you,” you redirect and let her walk you off in front of Aemond.

On the way to the hall where dinner was meant to be, Helaena talks your ear off, when you reach the hall she doesn’t stop and brings her grandfather in the conversation since he, the Queen, and the others were already there waiting for the King to arrive. Even Aegon was there already—But he was mostly likely brought in by his mother or his grandfather, he’d probably be late otherwise.

Regardless, as you all waited, as you listened to Helaena speak, you feel a slight tingling sensation on your face. You rub your bottom lip to try and make it go away but it stays, so you reach for your wine and take a sip to ease whatever it is.

Alas, it’s as you’re drinking that you mindlessly glance around and accidentally catch the eyes of another already on you, Prince Daemon.

He lifts his goblet in front of him to take a drink, and you swallow back your wine and glance away, catching Aemond’s comment to his brother.

“Even when the noose is tied they expect us to break bread.”

You scoff softly and put down your cup, from one moment to another feeling a pat on your shoulder. As you look up you see Aegon now beside you.

“More wine my beloved goodsister?” He asks.

You shake your head. “Believe it or not,” you quip. “I am still working on my first one. What is this, your tenth cup just tonight?”

Aegon snickers and chugs the rest of the wine he has left. “Now,” he retorts and pulls his cup away from his lips. “It’s my tenth one. What a keen eye.”

You roll your eyes and push his hand off your shoulder. The door then proceeds to open as the King is brought in, making all the chatter come to a halt, and making Aemond take his seat at your side and directly across the table from Lucerys and Rhaena, whilst the others return to their own seats. Those who were sitting down, like you, stand up for a moment before you sit again and get pushed in closer to the table as the King is put down in front of the table.

After that the King doesn’t take long to break the silence. “How good it is….to see you all tonight,” he mutters hoarsely. “Together.” He breathes out and goes quiet, letting Alicent speak up.

“Prayer before we begin?” She suggests, and he agrees, causing you to hold your hands over the table and close your eyes as she continues. “May the Mother smile down on this gathering with love. May the Smith mend the bonds that have broken for far too long. And to Vaemond Velaryon, may the gods give him rest.” She finishes, and you add your own small prayer quietly to yourself before opening your eyes and resting your hands on your lap.

“This is an occasion for celebration. It seems,” the King continues to add. “My grandsons, Jace and Luke. Will marry their cousins, Baela and Rhaena. Further strengthening the bond between our houses. A toast to the young Princes…and their betrothed.”

You grab your cup and lift it just slightly before you bring it to your lips to take a sip for the Targaryen twins.

“Hear, hear!” Prince Daemon exclaims.

“Let us toast as well to Prince Lucerys…” The King continues. “The future Lord of the Tides.”

“Hear, hear,” Baela says, and you take another sip, catching your ever so beloved husband piercing his glare into Luke.

When Aemond catches your gaze he simply puts his cup down and holds your gaze to share his discontent with a look alone, before you both look over at his father as he taps his cane against the ground for the attention of everyone around.

Now the King stands up and begins to breathe heavily as he does, but it doesn’t stop him from continuing to speak. “It both gladdens my heart, and fills me with sorrow to see these faces around the table. The faces most dear to me in all the world…yet grown so distant from each other…in the years past.” He sighs before he reaches for his mask to slowly take it off and reveal what he hid under.

“My own face…” the King proceeds, whilst you let out a small breath of discomfort—or more pity. No matter how many times you’ve already seen his face in the times you’ve visited him, his face isn’t something you can’t get used to—“is no longer a handsome one…if indeed it ever was. But tonight…I wish you to see me…as I am.”

“Not just a king…but your father. Your brother. Your husband, and your grandsire. Who may not it seems…walk for much longer among you.” He lets out a heavy breath and hits his mask against the table. “Let us no longer hold ill feelings in our hearts. The crown cannot stand strong if the House of the Dragon remains divided. But set aside your grievances. If not for the sake of the crown…then for the sake of this old man. Who loves you all so dearly.” He lets out another deep breath and slowly sits back down.

Now you begin to twist your Targaryen sigil ring around your finger and glance up at Princess Rhaenyra as she stands up to do a toast of her own. “I wish to raise my cup to Her Grace, the Queen. I love my father. But I must admit that no one has stood…more loyally by his side than his good wife. She has tended him with…unfailing devotion, love and honor. And for that she has my gratitude…and my apology.” She sits back down as she finishes, and Alicent slowly interjects.

“Your graciousness moves me deeply, Princess.” She sniffles. “We’re both mothers…and we love our children. We have more in common than we sometimes allow.” She proceeds to stand up and raises her cup along. “I raise my cup to you…and to your house. You will make a fine Queen.”

You raise your cup and sip some wine to Alicent’s kind words. You would’ve said something yourself, but in all reality you would’ve just raised your cup to Visenya and Aemond, so you just keep quiet instead and watch Aegon walk over to Baela and Jacaerys side to add something in a whisper that suddenly makes Jacaerys slam his fists against the table and stand up, earning everyone’s attention, and causing Aemond to stand up in his brother's defense.

As Jacaerys notices he glances over at Aemond and stays quiet. Alicent from across the table shares a quick passing look with you before she points to Aemond with her eyes.

You knew Aemond though, he wouldn’t do anything, yet, he was just intimidating the boy, so you did nothing but listen to Jacaerys as he interjects and raises his cup.

“To Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond…We haven’t seen each other in years. But I have fond memories of our shared youth.” He sighs. “And as men. I hope we may yet be friends and allies. To you and your family’s health dear uncles.”

You grab your cup and look up at Aemond beside you with a soft smile before happily taking a drink for that. Aemond stays on his feet for a moment longer albeit. Once he sits down though, you grab his hand. Aemond looks at you and sighs before he fills your cup with more wine as you set it down, making sure to keep his hand secured under yours.

“I would like to toast to Baela and Rhaena,” Helaena interjects as she stands up, causing you to glance up at her as she continues. “They’ll be married soon. It isn’t so bad, mostly he just ignores you….except sometimes when he’s drunk.”

You grin in amusement at her toast and hear scattered laughter fill the room, making her smile as she sits back down.

“Good,” her grandfather whispers to her, and you reach for her hand to offer her a sweet smile.

“Let us have some music,” the King orders, and the music plays.

You shift in your seat to face Aemond, but in that moment see Jacaerys walk over and offer his hand to Helaena.

When she notices him she seems surprised but doesn’t turn him down and lets him walk her over to dance.

And honestly, it’s a bit funny that Jacaerys is toying with Aegon like that. Furthermore, you’re a bit envious too.

But that soon passes as Aemond begins to caress your hand with his thumb. When you glance at him you share a smile before reaching over for the strawberry tarts.

“Are you going to eat dessert before your dinner?” Aemond comments right away.

You put a fresh strawberry tart on your plate and nod. “Yes. What about it? You want a bite, my beloved?”

Aemond scoffs. “Visenya eats better than you.”

You giggle. “Visenya is a picky eater. It seems she has acquired your tastes.” You grab a piece with your fork and offer the piece to him. “Come on. They’re fresh and delicious. Please.” You bat your lashes.

Aemond glances at the food you offer him and then looks back at you. He sighs and reaches for your fork to take the bite you offer him.

You beam at him when he passes you back your fork, and he just rolls his eyes and makes you giggle. You intend to add something, but you pause to stand up as the King is being carried away. It’s only when he passes the table that you sit back down and continue in your same content.

“I forgot to tell you…”

Aemond sits back down and looks at you as you speak to him.

“Visenya rolled her eyes at me the other day, just like you did just now.” You lean closer to him.

Aemond smirks. “Did she?” He asks in amusement. “I suppose she has inherited your attitude then?”

You shoot him a pointed look and scoff softly before you just brush it aside. “Sure, I won’t even try to argue that because we won’t get anywhere. Just know your daughter rolled her eyes.”

Aemond grins and chuckles softly at that. Yet that happiness is short lived because as soon as the pig is set down in front of the both of you he suddenly grows serious and slams his fist against the table before standing up.

“Final tribute,” he interjects and raises his cup, making you grab yours and watch him. “To the health of my nephews. Jace, Luke, and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise…” he pauses and everyone looks over at him and waits in the tension that was beginning to rise again.

“Hm,” he hums. “Strong,” he finishes, and you try not to, but you find his comment funny and can’t help but smirk and pass a mischievous glance at Lucerys sitting at the other side.

“Come,” Aemond continues and pushes his cup to Jacaerys. “Let us drain our cups to these three…”

You lift your cup without shame in support of Aemond, even if you catch Baela’s glare.

“…strong boys.”

“I dare you to say it again,” Jacaerys quickly snaps back.

“Why? It was only a compliment,” Aemond quips and begins to trudge over to him, making you and everyone around the table stand up to watch them—“Do you not think yourself Strong?”

Without a moment to think, Jacaerys swings his fist and punches Aemond across the face.

Of course you don’t worry, you know that doesnt hurt Aemond, it only ignites more amusement. You don’t even worry when Aegon slams Lucerys face against the table.

Sure you can’t say you liked throwing away your new friendship with Baela because of this, but Aemond was your family, your husband, so you don’t hesitate facing as she tries to storm over to Aegon and Aemond.

The moment she catches your taunting gaze she seems betrayed and only grows more furious, and you more amused; you offer her a cocky smirk, and proudly raise your head to show her you’re more than ready to fight if need be, even if you hear Alicent and Princess Rhaenrya try to stop what’s going on.

It’s not one of your—no, it is one of your proudest moments. Who are you kidding? Drama and fighting is a delight.

Baela doesn’t share your amusement though, especially not as Aemond shoves her betrothed to the ground with ease. But she can’t do anything about it, about your stance, or your threatening gaze since her sister holds her back.

“Rhaena!” She tries to call her sister off as she keeps holding your gaze.

You slowly begin to grin at her before Aegon walks over to you with pride over your actions.

He grabs your shoulder and turns you around.

“…though it seems my nephews aren’t quite as proud of theirs!” You hear Aemond say as he continues to storm back to Jacaerys.

Jacaerys manages to slip out of the guards hold and tries to storm over to Aemond to meet him in the middle, but Prince Daemon comes in between them first.

“Wait, wait!” He makes Jacaerys step back, and The Princess sends them away whilst Prince Daemon turns and meets Aemond’s gaze.

That’s the only time when you grow concerned and serious. As they hold each other's glares, since you know what they’re both capable of.

Luckily nothing happens though, Aemond just loses his smirk and hums before he walks away. You immediately pull away from Aegon and follow after Aemond back to your quarters.

He doesn’t speak the entire way there, nor when you find privacy inside your room. And you know better than to press him when he’s upset, at least right away. You let him keep to himself and get a bath fixed instead.

Like always he watches the flames of the fire dance in the fireplace and only breaks his eyes away when he hears you dip in. Yet he doesn’t say a thing, so you now interject.

“You will grow wrinkles at an early age if you keep scowling like that.” You sink deeper in and let your arm hang over the tub. “Why don’t you join me?”

Aemond stands up and pulls a chair to the side of the tub to sit beside you.

“I hoped you would join me inside,” you say and grab his hand to fiddle with his fingers.

Aemond sighs and meets your gaze. “I enjoy admiring you from here just fine. I find pleasure in watching you bathe.”

You smile before you rest your chin on his hand. “Like the first time?” You ask.

Aemond nods. “Yes.”

You grin, and he cups the side of your head to tilt your head up to face him. “When my father dies my brother will become King. A war will most likely start over the throne….” he sighs and averts his gaze.

That’s obvious. It’s been obvious since Aegon was born to King Viserys and he didn’t change his heir. Marrying Aemond forced you to a side whether you wanted to or not. You've never doubted your alliance though, not even when you didn't like him, nor when Visenya was born, so what does he mean by this?

“Yes,” you mutter unsurely. “What about it?” You pick your head off his hand and slightly narrow your eyes. “Is there something you wish to ask?”

Aemond shakes his head. “No, it is not that. Listen to me, y/n,” he makes himself clear and holds your hands in his. “No matter what was said at dinner by my mother, putting Aegon on the throne has always been the plan—”

“Yes,” you cut him off. “I know and I won't debate who I will side with because I know my answer, my answer is you. Not Aegon, you.” You lean in closer to him and hold his gaze. “Just you. If you want the throne for yourself I will fight for you—”

Aemond shifts in his seat and swallows thickly. “For myself?” He asks as if you don’t know what runs through his mind, as if you don’t know his worth.

You nod confidently. “We both know you are more suited for the throne than Aegon. I know you are more suited for it, and I know you deserve it. I know you Aemond—I like to think I do anyway. So, if you wish to fight for it I will side with you because I am your wife, and you are my husband.” You kiss his hands and smile up at him.

Meanwhile, Aemond lets his eyes linger on you in the silence that fell over you. He doesn’t move, or say a thing right away, he just stares at you for a moment before he slowly smiles and pulls his hands away from yours to grab your face and pull you in for a kiss.

You’re stunned by the action, thinking he would be upset, but he isn’t, so you kiss him back with a heated passion and don’t pull away until he does so he can rest his forehead agaisnt yours.

“And I want you as my Queen, at my side,” he says against your lips. “There is no one more fucking capable than you. The people love you, you do so much for them, people at court love you. You would make an excellent Queen.”

You scoff and shake your head. “I am not of Valyrian blood,” you murmur with insecurity.

Aemond pulls his face away and shakes his head. “Nor is my mother. You don’t need it, you are my wife, and far more worthy of that title than any other woman.”

The corner of your lips tug to a soft smile, and he continues.

“And I have an heir, Visenya. If not we’ll make one….”

He suddenly trails off and lowers his gaze. He lets his hands slip off your face, and you know right away what crosses his mind.

“But you won’t do it,” you interject.

Aemond sighs and shakes his head slowly. “No.”

You sigh and tilt your head to meet his gaze. “I will stand by your side regardless,” you assure him.

Aemond stands up and you watch him begin to strip off his clothes before he gets in the bath with you. As he rests his arms on the side of the bath, you crawl over to him, and he watches you carefully and with a smirk playing on his lips before grabbing your chin.

“There are things that I will most likely have to do for Aegon,” he finally says once you’re in front of him. “Things I will understand if you do not want to be a part of.”

You begin to smirk and scoff at him. “You know me, right?” You tell him and pull his hand off your chin to grab it. “I am not one to shy away from blood, or violence.”

Aemond begins to smirk.

“If you wish to burn down castles,” you continue softly and slither your hands over his arms. “I will be on that dragon with you. War is war. I will not cower away from it.” You reach for his face and shoot him a half cocky grin before pressing a kiss on his lips, and then staying inches away.

“I have your back, always,” you remind him and pull off his eyepatch to look at him as he is. “No matter what you do, my love. Until the end of my days.”

Aemond grins proudly, and caresses your chin before he cradles your face and presses a gentle kiss on your lips and murmurs against them. “I thank the gods everyday that they gave me to you.”

You scoff softly and avert your gaze, but he quickly tilts your head so you can meet his gaze to make himself clear. “I have your back. I will love you, until the end of my days.”

Tagged: @winter-soldier-101 @whateverooooooo @xcharlottemikaelsonx @blue-serendipityy @aistheamazing @lawlerek @hydrationqueensworld @out-of-life @claudie-080102 @ameagrice

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fickleminder · 6 months

Text

20 Questions for Writers

Thank you for the tag @chocmarss 💕

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

100 woohoo

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

325,362 words

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Mainly Obey Me at the moment, but I've also written for Rise of the Guardians, How to Train Your Dragon, Miraculous Ladybug, Spiderman, Power Rangers, Fire Emblem, Pokemon, Voltron, Final Fantasy, Transformers, Sherlock, and Dragon Raja!

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

That's (Not) My Name

Just A Taste

don't you (forget about me)

The Other Half of Us

Second Chances

5. Do you respond to comments?

All the time! I do my best to say thank you to everyone who left a comment :)

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

We Can Be Heroes (Just For One Day)

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Punch-Punch-Kiss

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I'm fortunate to not have encountered that so far!

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I can do suggestive content at best; I have no talent for smut.

10. Do you write crossovers?

Hell yeah, I wrote a lot of Hijack back in the day!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Again, I'm fortunate to not have experienced this (or maybe I'm just unaware of any theft).

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

A few, if I remember correctly, though I've probably lost the links to them by now...

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yeah, and what a fantastic experience that was!

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

C'mon you know I can't pick just one :(

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

...I'm working on them.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Keeping things concise, I guess? My stories are mostly plot-driven, so I tend to move things from point A to point B in a straightforward manner. I try not to repeat words too often as well, and I'd like to say I'm good at writing angst!

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Rushing the plot haha! I feel like being overly succinct makes my writing feel too abrupt; the transitions aren't as smooth as I like, and I can always afford to spend more time expanding and developing a scene before moving on.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

It's awesome; kudos to those who pull it off, goodness knows I can't!

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Transformers

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

You can't make me choose, my fics are all my babies :(

No pressure tags: @arvandus @misc-obeyme @another-lost-mc @qrowsofafeather @sparkbeast20 @twiceasfrustrating @theevilpretty1 @obeythebutler @elsecrytt @atticsandwich and anyone else who wants to join!

(Questions below)

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

3. What fandoms do you write for?

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

5. Do you respond to comments?

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

8. Do you get hate on fics?

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

10. Do you write crossovers?

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

16. What are your writing strengths?

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

19. First fandom you wrote for?

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

#misc #writing

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hectacrafts · 2 years

Photo

🐉✨ Here he issssss!!! Baby dragon 🥺 He deserves a name, comment name suggestions below!! PATTERN: @sweetsofties — TAGS — #crochet #crochet_relax #crochetinstagram #crochetinspiration #crochetcardigan #knit #dragon #babydragon #baby #plushie #stuffies #smallbusiness #smallbusines https://www.instagram.com/p/CpgLU_OPVYW/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#crochet #crochet_relax #crochetinstagram #crochetinspiration #crochetcardigan #knit #dragon #babydragon #baby #plushie #stuffies #smallbusiness #smallbusines

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purrincesskittens · 3 years

Text

Some pure indulgent fluff in my dragons atla universe slightly inspired by @muffinlance Scaled Over writing out how Bato comes into the possession of a little scaly Zuko still but I just had to get this fluff out first. Sorry for tagging you so often muffin you have inspired me to write again and actually finish something for once.

Zuko's scar isn't as bad over his eye it's larger though it covers more of the left side of his face and down his neck and across his shoulder. It's not as bad though it's second to third degree and will scar but not nearly as bad as it looks in canon like this but on a small child

......................................................................

Bato was drifting between wakefulness and sleep wanting to go back to sleep unsure as to what woke him. His hammock rocked with the ship he was comfortable under his furs and blankets. They were almost home and just in time to beat the late season storm coming their way. He was almost asleep again when the baby in his arms sat up on his chest. After a moment of squirming little hands patted his face gently and cautiously to wake him. Giving a yawn and stretch Bato opened his eyes to look at the little one he held.

"Sorry." The 3 year old little boy whispers so softly Bato wouldn't have heard if he hadn't been holding the little one so close. "What's wrong buddy?" Bato asks as the kid squirmed again. "Umm." The little one grabbed at his front as he squirms in a matter Bato recognizes from Sokka who had just started potty training. "Need to go?" Bato sat up holding the boy to his chest as he did before unburrying them so he could swing his legs out of the hammock and set the boy down.

He knew what woke him now. The boy had been squirming for a while before waking Bato. The child was still very cautious about everything he did which angered Bato. The boy was barely 3 and was surprisingly very good about potty breaks although he did have accidents that caused him to break down in tears. Bato would love to murder the child's father. Not only was the man responsible for the large burn that covered the left side of the child's face and down his neck and shoulder but the man didn't seem to understand children. Didn't want the child to make loud noises and apparently yelled at every little thing the boy did.

Bato wasn't even a father but he was a damn proud uncle to Hakoda's kids and understood children were noisy and messy. He didn't have a high opinion of any servants hired to care for the boy either. None seemed to have had the patience for a young child struggling to be more mature then their age while still being a toddler. Standing up he guided the kid to use the bathroom yawning as he did. The boy finished with only a slight mishap at first not a big deal, he watched Sokka for Hakoda and Kya before he knew this could happen.

The boy looked at him like he expected to be hit or yelled at. "I missed." The boy whispered looking down at his bare feet. "Sorry." Bato had to close his eyes and count to ten silently so as not to show he was upset. Not at the little one but at the man the boy calls father. Kneeling he hugs the tiny thing to him before murmuring reassuringly. "It's okay accidents happen. You'll get better with time." He stood cleaning up the mess and then cleaned the child and himself up, using a clean wet cloth to whipe the boys face after to remove snot and tears.

Scooping him up he nuzzled the child's soft black hair with his nose. "Let's get a snack and then back to bed okay?" He got a nod in response as the little one tucked his head against his neck. Hakoda intercepted them after they had grabbed a few sea prunes yawning as he ruffled the child's hair causing the boy to squeak and hide his face against Bato's skin. "Midnight snack?" He questions his friend nodding to the half eaten prune in the toddlers hand. "Bathrrom visit first then snack as a reward for doing so good now back to bed." Bato explains bouncing the child in his arms gently to reassure him.

"I missed." Came the response from the half asleep bundle in the tribesman's arms. "That's okay Sokka, my son, misses alot too. It happens." The chief reassures the tiny thing who peaks at him with sleepy gold eyes. They eventually got back to bed with Bato settling the toddler in his arms under the furs and blankets.

The next day brought them into colder waters and icebergs appeared. The child stared with wide eyes from his place at the railing of the ship under the watchful eyes of the crew. As they traveled further south the more the ice grew bigger. It was early spring so the waters were barely safe enough to traverse meaning they had to slow down and take it easy. This also meant the icebergs appeared to be closer to the ship. Almost within touching distance it would seem. Or at least it seemed so to a tiny tot who had never seen icebergs before. One second he was standing by the railing, the next he's climbed up on the railing, and the second after that a little black dragon is launching himself across the distance little wings incapable of true flight, beating the air in an attempt at keeping him alight.

The ship lurched and a large blue dragon is grabbing the baby dragon in his teeth scuffing them and hauling them back on board the ship ignoring their whines of protest despite being a limp noodle hanging from Bato's jaws as he settles back in the middle of the deck depositing the little creature in front of them caging him with his claws so the little one can't scamper off.

The rest of the day is spent with a shaky noodle hiding in Bato's parka half because he got scolded for trying to jump off the ship to touch an iceberg half because he was cold. Aake's mutter suggestion about wing breaking had been overheard and the little one was terrified of him now. Bato hadn't liked that suggestion even if Aake wasn't completely serious.

"You need a name boy." Kustaa informs the child as he changes the bandages that cover half the boys face, neck and shoulder. "He has a name." Bato comments as he holds the boy still. "But he hasn't said what it is yet now has he? If he is staying he needs a name. We can't keep calling him boy now can we?" Cool salve is applied to the burn with gentle steady hands. Bato hums in response but thinks on what the healer said.

"If you don't want to tell me your name that's fine but since your starting a new life with us how about a proper water tribe name?" Bato asks the child as he carefully runs a brush through the boys hair. The little one practically purred in his lap as he pulled the brush through his thick black hair. "What do you think of Kanut? It means white polar bear goose." The boy scrunched up his nose and shook his head. "Yeah polar bear goose doesn’t suit you does it? Hmm how about Nanook?"

A little sneeze greeted this suggestion drawing a chuckle from the man. "No? Let's see then something that would suit you." Bato ran the brush once more through the toddlers hair before tying it up in a warriors wolf tail. "I know how about Tulugaq? For your raven hair." This last name earned a bright eye look. "Tulugaq it is then." Bato chuckles wrapping his arms around the newly dubbed Tulugaq giving him a hug.

Kustaa held Tulugaq in his arms as the crew ran around getting the ship ready as they drew closer to the South Pole and their village. Once they docked the ships would be unloaded and sleds packed up with supplies to be distributed among the various tribes and villages that made up the Southern Water Tribe enough to last the tribes to the summer when the traders came. Tulugaq only liked Kustaa and Bato primarily although he was growing used to the chief. Hakoda had been spending time with Bato while the little one hide under Bato's clothes or clung to him.

Bato had been named the boys guardian and new dad in everything but name. It had been agreed upon that if his mother came looking for him and proved to be trust worthy she would be welcomed by the tribe or allowed to take her son, the boys father would never get him back and would never lay another hand on the boy. Finally Bato came over scooping his new son up into his arms. "Welcome to the Southern Water Tribe, Tulugaq."

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xadoheandterra · 3 years

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The Heir, The Reader, and Clay

Series: The Heir, The Reader, and Clay Fandom: Assassin’s Creed Beta: @claire-the-queer-dragon Summary: Layla Hassan has a crazy idea, once she finally pings upon who the Reader really is. Taking into account human genetics and general Isu Fuckery it's an idea that just might work, crazily enough.

The results are...interesting, to say the least, but Desmond could use some actual love and care in his life even if he can't recall WHY exactly--and if it gives Layla enough of an excuse to fuck around with some Isu programming in the background all in an attempt to stop one crazy fool from burning on a pyre not of his design? More power to them. It's the Isu's own fault after all--they made Layla and Desmond into this. They Named them--and Names, well, Names can have some pretty powerful connotations.

The Reader of the Calculations, a man who perpetually burns in the power of the Sun, simultaneously stuck in 2012 and dead at the same time. Schrödinger's Sacrifice.

The Heir of Memories, a woman who has more people in her brain that she realizes, who lacks any significant Isu blood, and yet still retains her sense of self so STRONGLY despite outside influences. Alone in a crowd, the Unexpected Sacrifice.

Then there was Clay. Clay was honestly a surprise.

Story: Run It Again Chapters: --Arc I - Getting Together By Coparenting: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX | X | XI | XII | XIII | XIV | XV ---Interlude - A Series Of Letters Between August & September: XVI --Arc II - ???: XVII | XVIII Main Characters: Altair ibn La’Ahad, Malik al-Sayf, Kadar al-Sayf, Desmond Miles, Maria Thorpe, Al Mualim, Faheem al-Sayf Pairings: Altair/Malik Main Tags: AltMal, AltMal Raises Baby Desmond, Time Travel AU, Time Trave Fix-It, Desmond Lives AU, Family Drama, Drama, Emotional Trauma/Psychological Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, Autistic Altair, Demisexual Altair, WIP Summary: They hadn’t found an answer yet, and Layla was impatient despite the promise of the Grey being timeless in its nature. She didn’t want to have to search for an answer that might never come–so she made another suggestion. Why not just change it? Why not counter the Isu influence on the Pieces of Eden where it counted, and counter what Juno inevitably did to the Eye in the Grand Temple?

It was all the push that Desmond needed to let himself be just that bit more selfish. So selfish he chose to be, and there was one moment where the Isu’s hold on the Pieces of Eden had a profound effect–the Levantine Brotherhood. Altair Ibn La’Ahad. Al Mualim. There was just one problem–Desmond was eight, a child, and didn’t remember dying.

Layla at least had his back, even if she was just a bit fashionably late.

Run It Again Chapter Teases: Ch 2 | Ch 5.1 | Ch 5.2 | Ch 6 | Ch 7.1 | Ch 7.2 | Ch 8.1 | Ch 8.2 | Ch 9.1 | Ch 9.2 | Ch 10.1 | Ch 10.2 | Ch 11.1 | Ch 11.1 Bonus Comment | Ch 11.2 | Ch 11.3 | Ch 12.1 | Ch 12.2 | Ch 12.3 | Ch 13.1 | Ch 13.2 | Ch 13.2 Bonus Comment | Ch 14.1 | Ch 14.2 | Ch 14.3 | Ch 15.1 | Ch 15.2 | Ch 16.1 | Ch 16.2 | Ch 16.3 | Ch 16.4 | Ch 16.5 | Ch 17.1 | Ch 17.2 | Ch 17.3 | Ch 17.4 | Ch 18.1 | Ch 18.2 | Ch 18.3

Run It Again Musings/Rantings: Things That Have Held Up Run It Again Posting Schedule WTF Difficulties Continuing Because of Malik and Desmond MonJustMon “Shouts” At Me Trying To Puzzle Out Fic Direction Clay and Layla On Al Mualim and Altair’s “Death” Complaining About Ch 16 Run It Again Fic Rec By MonJustMon Chapter 16 IS FINISHED The More You Know Kadar the Show Stealer THE EVER GROWING OC TRAIN Me Begging For Validation Altair Has A Crisis Evil Idea Little Des Heart Stealer

Run It Again Memes

#fic: run it again #fic: the heir the reader and clay #a series tag now wooooo!#assassins creed #fanfic #altmal fanfic #this is because my fic tag got inundated with memes so #series tag to make finding things a bit easier #and series post to make finding things EASIER

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generallynerdy · 4 years

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Uncalled they come to me, and told, they still won’t leave me (Din Djarin/Soulmate!Reader)

Spoilers for Chapter 9 (S2E1) of the Mandalorian

Summary: After the ambitious Toro Calican turns on you, his hired mechanic, in hopes of winning favour with the Guild, the mysterious Mandalorian saves your life. Now that you owe him a life debt, he’s stuck with you until you can save him back. It’s not so bad, having a free mechanic and babysitter for the kid, but things take a turn for the worse when both of you realise you might be catching feelings. For someone that might not even be your Soulmate.

Requested by Anon: Hello! How’re you doing? May I please request a Din x reader soulmate au? The one where you don’t see color until you touch your soulmate? It would be very difficult for Din to find his soulmate and I’ve always wanted to see how it played out. If not that’s ok! Thank you and have a wonderful day ❤️

Key: (Y/N) - your name, (h/c) - hair colour, (e/c) - eye colour Translations: vode - siblings, Ret’urcye mhi - goodbye (literally: may we meet again), mirshmure’cya - brain-kiss (Basic term, is Keldabe kiss. This is the soft one as opposed to the literal headbutt term) Asked to be tagged in this disaster: @pearlll09 Word Count: remember when i said this would be 4k? Yeah. It’s 6,478 words. What. The. Fuck.

Author’s Note: this is way longer than I intended it to be but I think u deserve it since u were the only one who saw my post begging for mando requests and actually sent one hksjlfdkj tysm!! I’m so happy I got to write a Soulmate AU for him tbh. Btw, I have it in my head that Yodito would’ve given him the ability to see green, as a familial Soulmate bond, but it wouldn’t work for this if your eyes are green so I just left it out. (Also wtf is up with the Cobb/Din shit, Cobb is clearly in a dedicated relationship with the bartender Weequay. I named them Sala :D) The title is from The Teller of Tales by Gabriela Mistral.

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“Do you wear those gloves all the time?”

The Mando gives you a look—one that you can’t read, obviously, but you get the idea that it’s drier than the desert you’re in.

Calican snorts, but you shoot him a glare and he shuts up. You’re only here because he’s paying well for your mechanical skills, enough that his request of an extra hand on his first bounty seemed reasonable. Finding out that he’s hunting Fennec Shand was...less than pleasing, but now that the Mando is onboard, you’re not quite so worried about the outcome. They’re supposed to be fearsome warriors, after all. And he was smart enough to figure out how to wait out Shand, which is what the three of you have been doing for hours.

“I’m just saying,” you continue, “between the armour and the gloves, it must be damn near impossible to find your Soulmate.”

He shrugs. Sort of. It’s kind of hard to tell, to be honest.

“Haven’t you heard the stories?” Calican asks, flopping back onto the sand. “Mandalorians don’t have Soulmates. They start seeing colour after their first battle; war is their only destiny.”

You roll your eyes. They’re folk tales, really, and ridiculous ones at that. Every sentient has at least one Soulmate, romantic, platonic, familial, or otherwise, and there’s no reason for Mandalorians to be any different. Still, the stories make their rounds. There are specific ones, too, like the one about the Mandalorian Jedi who made the Darksaber; he was said to see colour when he lit his weapon for the first time. Fett, too, was said to have seen a new colour with every clone that was decanted—which is mildly ridiculous.

“Maybe the Mandalorians of old,” Mando comments with a scoff. “Not many of us see battle these days.”

“Well, if you’re looking for it, I know a krayt dragon a few hundred klicks away,” you suggest lightly.

He snorts. “No thanks. I’ll take the assassin.”

“Speaking of,” you said, “you guys know I’m just a mechanic, right?”

There’s a pause. Calican nods, but the Mando is still.

“What?” he asks, displeasure in his voice.

“I mean, I’m pretty good with a blaster, but I’m gonna be useless against Fennec Shand.”

Mando whirls on Calican. “You paid a mechanic to be your back-up? Are you insane?”

He shrugs. “(Y/N) has a mean right hook.”

“That’s not reassuring,” Mando huffs. He looks over at you and you can almost feel him glaring through the visor. “Are you crazy?”

“I’m broke,” you scoff. “Same thing. Oh, hey, do you need repairs on that hunk of junk you pilot? I’ll be more thorough than that lady at the hangar.”

He hesitates. “We’ll see.”

You grin. That’s not a no.

“You’re a prick, did I mention that?” you hiss over your shoulder.

Calican shoves the blaster into your side. “Shut up and keep walking.”

The Mandalorian stands on the other side of the hangar, waiting for Calican to make his move. Seriously, this day could not be going any worse. After killing Shand, Toro Calican, certified dumbass, decided that kidnapping you and the Mandalorian’s—pet? Child?—passenger was the best way to go. Whatever the little weird thing that’s in your arms is, it’s pretty cute, and you’d rather he shoot you than the baby holding tightly onto your shirt. In fact, he probably will, because the kid is his ticket into the Guild—you’re just dead weight.

“Looks like I’m calling the shots now. Huh, partner?” Calican asks the Mando. “Drop your blaster and raise ‘em.”

The Mandalorian puts his hands behind his head. Next to you, Calican pushes Peli forward and instructs her to cuff him. With a huff, she moves behind the Mandalorian with the intent to follow orders.

“You’re a Guild traitor, Mando,” Calican begins. You consider sighing. This sounds like the start of a villain monologue. “And I’m willing to bet that this here is the target you helped escape. Fennec was right. Bringing you in won’t just make me a member of the Guild, it’ll make me legendary.”

In a burst of light, the Mandalorian sets off a flash grenade.

You yelp and tuck the little thing into your arms before tucking yourself over into a roll down the ramp of the ship. You fall into the sand just in front of the Mandalorian, who’s moved to fire a shot at Calican, sending him flying off the other side, smouldering.

Breathing heavily, you sit up, the child still in your arms.

“Are you okay? Is the child?”

You look up. The Mandalorian has his gloved hand held out, offering to help you up. Hesitantly, you take it and pull yourself off the ground.

“We’re both okay—I think,” you say hesitantly, holding the baby out to him. “Is he—?”

“Dead,” the Mando confirms, taking the child from you.

You frown. “Good riddance. Thank you,” you tell him hesitantly, though your tone is genuine.

“It’s nothing,” he murmurs.

He distracts himself by checking on the child, who coos up at him contentedly. You smile a little at the interaction, but put yourself back into focus.

“It’s not nothing,” you say firmly. “I owe you a life debt.”

He freezes. “What?”

“Where I come from, if someone saves your life, you owe it to them. Until I can save your life, I owe you,” you explain.

“That’s—you don’t need to do that,” he says quickly.

You cross your arms. “It’s like your Way. It’s my culture, my honour on the line. You’re stuck with me, Mando.”

“What? No. Can’t you...pay me, or something?”

“I’m broke, remember?”

“You saved the child’s life, doesn’t that count?”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “I rolled with him. You did the work, so, no, it doesn’t count, even though he’s your…” You hesitate, remembering the word. “...foundling.”

“You know, you’re kind of getting the better end of the deal here,” Peli pipes up, directing the thought at the Mandalorian. “A free mechanic, babysitter, and an extra blaster? That’s a bargain.”

“Uh...pre-warning, I don’t know much about child care,” you warn immediately.

He snorts. “Neither do I.” After a moment, he sighs deeply. “Fine. But we’re going to work on those blaster skills before you become a liability.”

“Fair enough.”

Sticking with the Mandalorian is probably the worst decision of your life.

Almost immediately after Tatooine, in need of more funds, he drags you into trouble with another group of bounty hunters and the New Republic, of all groups.

“Who is this?” someone asks, her voice sing-song as she enters the Mandalorian’s ship.

You don’t bother turning around, continuing your repairs on a hull panel. “The mechanic. Don’t touch anything.”

“You have a personal mechanic?”

A few people enter the ship, making you finally turn around. The first speaker is a Twi’lek woman and the second a Human, who squints disdainfully. From behind him, Mando pushes past their little crew—including a protocol droid and a massive Devaronian—to approach you, deciding to stand next to you rather than them, which brings you immense pleasure for some reason.

“No. (Y/N) owes me a life debt and, apparently, credits don’t cut it,” he explains shortly, sounding frustrated and exhausted.

You nudge him companionably—it’s an argument you’ve had a few times, the paying of your debt. He doesn’t want to be free of you, per se, but he doesn’t want you to be in his debt. Having that kind of power or hold over you makes him uncomfortable, you can tell, as every time it comes up he gets twitchy.

“Kinky,” the Twi’lek snickers.

You grimace. That would explain why Mando sounds like he wants to die. “Fun group. What’s the job?”

“One of theirs got caught. We’re getting him out,” he says. “And we’re using our ship.”

Our ship. Maybe it’s a slip of the tongue or maybe he’s making it clear that you’re with him, but either way, it brings a smirk to your face. The Twi’lek looks disgusted.

“Well, at least my hard work won’t be going to waste,” you huff.

“Mando,” the Twi’lek interrupts, “you haven’t introduced us.”

You can feel him rolling his eyes. “(Y/N), meet Mayfeld, Burg, Xi’an. Mayfeld is running point, the droid is flying, and the target is a New Republic transport ship.”

“Ugh. You guys better be good; I’m not getting arrested.”

“Mayfeld’s former Imperial,” Mando says before any of them can answer.

You scoff. “A stormtrooper? My shitty blaster skills would be better than his.”

“I wasn’t a stormtrooper,” Mayfeld spits, annoyed enough that he must’ve said it once already. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

All but the droid stay, scattered around the hull. Mando follows soon after the jump to hyperspace, having hovered over the droid while it set their course. He stops Burg from getting into the weapons cache right after he hops down the ladder and the two look like they want to kill each other.

“Someone tell me why we even need a Mandalorian,” the Devaronian grunts.

Mayfeld huffs. “Well, apparently, they’re the greatest warriors in the galaxy. So they say.”

“Then why are they all dead?”

They all laugh at that—Xi’an with a particularly nasal one, which is irritating beyond belief. You frown deeply, but try not to show how pissed their laughter makes you. That sort of shit isn’t to be made fun of; a dying race. It’s all too familiar these days, what with the death of Alderaan and the crater on Scarif.

When you come back into focus, Xi’an is talking in low tones.

“See, I know who you really are,” she says to the Mando.

You roll your eyes. Unlikely.

(Something in your brain goes: I do, which is stupid. You don’t know who he is, under that helmet, sure, but you’ve seen a lot of him through his actions. He’s reckless, terrifying, and a badass, but he’s also patient and...kind, in his own way. The way he treats the child is like nothing you’ve seen in another bounty hunter. It’s gentle, caring. The kid has really grown on him, you think. And the way he treats you is just straight up polite, even though you’re practically his servant in terms of a life debt. Still, he treats you like a person and doesn’t ask you to do unreasonable favours just because he saved your life. He doesn’t hold it over your head.)

And then they start goading him about the helmet.

Burg actually goes for it, which Mando beats him back for. You jump forward, but just as you do, the door to the sleeping cot flies open, revealing the child.

Instead, you rush to the child, pulling him into your arms.

“What is that?” Mayfeld asks, approaching.

“Back off,” you hiss.

He looks between you and Mando. “Wait, did you two make that?” When you scoff, he frowns. “What is it, like a pet or somethin’?”

“Yeah. Something like that,” Mando says quickly.

Xi’an frowns. “Didn’t take you for the type. Maybe that code of yours has made you soft.”

You snort. Soft. That isn’t a word you’d use to describe him, ever. You haven’t seen very much action since Tatooine, but you saw enough there.

Mayfeld reaches for the child and, without hesitation, you lift your blaster. The way he’s looking at the little guy makes you uneasy.

“Fuck off,” you warn instantly.

“Aw, c’mon, I just wanna hold him,” he teases.

Over the comms, the droid’s voice echoes. “Dropping out of hyperspace. Now.”

The entire ship shudders and shakes, sending everyone flying off their feet. You happen to ram into beskar, your face slamming into the metal, which makes you yelp. The baby wails in your arms as gravity makes to tug you away again. Before it can, Mando grabs your arms and holds you in place against him until the ship is steady once more.

“You okay?” he asks, helping you to your feet—again, you think miserably.

“Ugh, no,” you groan, putting a hand on the left side of your face. “That’s gonna bruise.”

Mando takes the child from you. “Sorry. We’ll deal with it after.”

You wave him off. “I’ve had worse. You worry about the job, I’ll watch the kid,” you say, taking the child back. You can’t help but smile when he coos happily.

“Right,” Mando mutters. For a moment, he watches you both, considering.

“Mando!” calls Mayfeld. “Let’s go!”

Before he goes, he puts a hand on your shoulder. “Be careful. I have a bad feeling about this.” You nod, which seems to appease him, and watch him leave.

Petting the child’s floppy ears, you wonder if he meant that to be as comforting as it was.

I should’ve known, Din thinks when Qin walks out of that cell.

I definitely should’ve known, he decides, returning to the Razor Crest to find a sparking droid corpse and a shaking child in your arms.

He tosses the cuffed Twi’lek to the side and rushes to yours, stepping over Zero’s limp form. You look relatively unfazed, for someone who’s just ripped a droid’s head off with their bare hands, but the child is rather distressed. The kid squeaks at the sight of Din and, much to his surprise, lifts your hand to show him.

It’s bleeding.

“What did you do?” Din questions, crossing the hull for his medical kit.

“I...may have tried to punch the droid,” you admit hesitantly. “It didn’t work.”

He scoffs, returning to kneel in front of you with bacta patches in his hands. “No karking shit.”

Your face falls as he reaches for your hand, pulling it toward him so he can patch it up. “It was gonna hurt the kid.”

“You did good,” he murmurs. “Stupid, but good.”

It never occurred to him that you might save the child again. You’re here out of necessity, after all, because you owe him, because your honour depends on paying that debt. The child is just another being in the vicinity, but you still saved him. Again. You’re either very stupid or very kind and he can’t decide which one is more concerning.

“Maybe you should teach me a bit of hand to hand, too,” you suggest warmly, wincing at the bacta’s sting.

Din makes a noise that’s sort of a laugh. “I’ll add it to the list.”

He moves to put bacta on the bruise his beskar gave you—He feels ridiculously guilty for that; here you are, paying off a life debt to him, and he still manages to hurt you—but with a hand, you stop him.

“Don’t waste it,” you say immediately. “I’ve had worse bruises, seriously.”

He frowns. “It’s not a waste.” Before you can protest, he puts the patch on top of the bruise.

You huff. “You’re a worrier, aren’t you, Mando?”

“Apparently,” he replies dryly. He hadn’t realised it, either.

“Will you stop flirting and get us out of here!?” Qin shouts from the other side of the hull. “The New Republic will be on our asses!”

You roll your eyes. “I hate to say it, but he has a point. Where are the others?”

“Dealt with,” he says simply. “It was a double-cross.”

“Well, I figured,” you shoot back with a knowing look. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

The drop is easy enough, especially since Din knows that New Republic signal is beeping steadily from Qin’s pocket. He escapes quickly, dipping back into the Razor Crest, where you wait at the top of the ramp, the child hanging onto your boot.

“Let’s go,” he declares, the ramp shutting behind him as he enters.

“Already?” you question with a raised eyebrow. “There are a few repairs I could make out of hyperspace that might be useful.”

He waves you toward the cockpit. “Later. We need to leave.”

“Oookay.” You frown but do as he says, plucking the child from off your foot. “C’mon, little guy,” you mutter to him.

Din waves away all your questions as he starts the take-off. Finally, when the Razor Crest is a safe distance away from the space station and X-Wings appear out of hyperspace, he glances back at you.

“Holy shit!” you cry as they open fire. You look back at him with a slack jaw, which makes him smile underneath the helmet. “That was you, wasn’t it?”

He shrugs half-heartedly, but it’s enough of an answer.

“You’re a maniac, Mando,” you laugh, watching the scene through the transparisteel.

Din thinks over it, staring at you for a long moment. There’s light in your eyes—maybe it’s the reflection of the explosion, but it’s captivating.

“Din,” he says.

You look over. “Hm?”

He clears his throat, trying to shove aside nerves. “My name. It’s Din.”

“Oh. Oh,” you repeat, eyes wide. Then, you smile, more genuine than he’s ever seen from you, he thinks. “You’re crazy, Din. You know that, right?”

He laughs—and that’s the first time you’ve heard a proper one from him. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

When Din drops a pair of gloves in front of you, you laugh.

“You’re telling me the gloves are out of convenience?” you ask him disbelievingly.

“The more skin you cover, the less likely you are to get cut up by a vibroblade,” he replies dryly. “Put them on.”

You raise your hands in surrender and take them, slipping them over your fingers. “Surprisingly comfy.”

It occurs to you that this is...sort of a big deal. You’ve kept your hands bare for as long as you can remember, mostly because you’re a romantic and finding your Soulmate has been at the forefront of your mind for a long time. But now, you think, it’s not such a big deal. You have a debt to pay and, besides that, you’re pretty happy with how things are now.

Life isn’t exactly nice with Din and the kid, so to say, but you’re content. You love the child and he adores you. The Razor Crest feels more like home than any planet ever has. And Din is...well, he’s something. Being around him is mildly addicting and whenever he’s gone, something feels incomplete.

“Better?” you ask, lifting your gloved hands.

“Much,” he says. Then, he holds out his own hand. “C’mon, up.”

You take the hand without thought, but before you know it, he’s swinging you around and shoving you to the ground.

“Ow!” you cry. “What the hell, Din?”

He huffs. “Lesson 1: Never take anything for granted.”

“Rude.” You hit his arm meaningfully, but he just rolls his eyes; just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean you can’t tell it’s happening.

“You’ll thank me someday.”

“But not today.”

“Nope. Today, you’re gonna hate my guts.”

He’s dying.

It feels unreal, what with everything you’ve watched him survive so far. A newbie bounty hunter, a group of pissed off bounty hunters, lots of bounty hunters, and the New Republic but a group of stormtroopers is what gets him?

Moff Gideon is what really gets him, though. The bastard that helped destroy his people is going to destroy Din Djarin. Hearing him speak Din’s name makes you nauseous, furious, even. He gave you that name in confidence, trusted it to you, the only one of his handful of friends to even use it, and Gideon decides to declare it to Nevaroo in its entirety. It makes your blood boil, enough that you get out of the initial firefight mostly unscathed.

But Din doesn’t. And now he’s dying in your arms and you feel like you failed.

“Go with them,” he tells you, all croaky and half-assed.

“No. No, I’m not leaving you here,” you declare, carefully leaning him against the rubble.

Flames flicker all around the room and the child is crying. It’s not loud or consistent, but it’s enough to break your heart.

“You have to go,” Din says again. “You’ll die.”

You laugh ruefully. “That’s kind of the point. A life debt means I save your life or I die trying.”

A pause.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” he hisses through the pain.

“Afraid not, dumbass. You’re stuck with me, remember?”

He grasps your arm, his hands still gloved. If you’re going to die here, maybe you should ask him to take off the gloves. A part of you has wondered…

“C’mon, tell me it’s transferable—some ‘dying wish’ shit like that.”

You nod, though the action sinks uncomfortably into your chest. Leaving him here...that doesn’t sit well with you. But if he asks, then you’ll do it. “Yeah, you name it, but it’d better be a big one, something equivalent.”

The breath he lets out is one of relief. “Take care of the kid. Go find his people and return him to them. Protect him.”

“With my dying breath,” you swear, the words holding an air of ceremony.

Din grasps your arm tighter and pulls you down, your forehead meeting his helmet. You’re not sure what it means, but it must mean something because he mutters words in his own language, which you’ve never heard him do before.

“Ret’urcye mhi.”

May we meet again.

Din does what little he can in saying goodbye to you, as deeply as that cuts. You’ve grown on him, a little too much maybe, and it kills him to think that you’ll be without him now. You still can’t hit a headshot, he realises, suddenly worried for how you’ll fare.

And so he gives you what he can: a Keldabe kiss and a goodbye, instead of the action he wants to take. He wants to take off his gloves and see if he can figure out the colour of your eyes. On the other hand, though, he doesn’t want to leave you with that, of all things, to leave you seeing the red of his blood and the blue-tinged orange of the flames before any other colours.

You take the child in your arms and, with one last glance at Din, leave the room for the covert’s tunnels underground.

The child whimpers up at you.

You look down, sniffling, and pet his ears gently. “I know, little one. I’m so sorry.” You place a gentle kiss to his forehead.

Cara appears, tugging on your wrist. “C’mon,” she says gently. “We need to get out of here.”

It occurs to you, as the three of you and Greef move on, that Cara might help you with the child. For Din, obviously. She’s a good person and, frankly, she and Din seem pretty friendly. The second she saw you, she’d offered her bare hand and bemoaned the fact that her vision was still black and white, much to your amusement. It was all in good fun, but Din had looked a little uncomfortable, for reasons you didn’t know.

“(Y/N),” Cara says quietly, calling your attention back.

You shake yourself from your thoughts. “Sorry.”

She smiles sadly. “It’s okay. Just keep up.”

The small group turns a few corners before footsteps sound from behind. You immediately place the child in the bag hanging from Cara’s shoulder and draw your blaster, watching her and Greef do the same.

From the distant hall, two figures approach: IG-11 and—

“Din!” you half-cry, half-breathe out. Holstering your blaster, you meet them halfway to take more of Din’s weight from IG. “How—?”

“No living thing can see me without my helmet. IG isn’t alive,” Din says dryly.

You laugh, a partly manic sound. “Thank kark. You’re not getting out of this that easy.”

The noise he makes is both amused and resigned. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Where’s the—?”

“He’s with Cara,” you say, finishing the thought before even he can, in his groggy state.

It’s safe to say that when the Armourer gives him his sigil, Din almost considers correcting the Clan of two to a Clan of three. He doesn’t, reminding himself that you’re here because of a debt and nothing else, but the thought is there.

The months after Nevarro are more peaceful than the first week of your time with Din.

You finally get to pull a proper sleeping space together for yourself. Well, it’s a hammock in the hull, but it’s better than the seats in the cockpit. The child gets his own hammock, too, though it’s in the cot space with Din. He loves it, so much so that he squeals when he sees it. That’s your proudest moment, for sure.

Most days, you tend to forget that you still owe a life debt. To be honest, it just feels like the three of you are normal. Din takes bounties, you take short mechanic jobs on different planets, and the two of you trade off on child-duty. It’s pretty regular, more than what your life used to be, anyway.

Din is still training you in hand-to-hand and blasters, of course. You’re getting better with the latter, but the first is difficult. On the way to Tatooine, where there’s supposedly another Mandalorian, he decides to have another training session.

“Fists higher, do it again.”

Huffing, you wipe your wrist across your sweaty forehead. It’s easy enough to obey the order—the first part, anyway. Getting into his guard is difficult, though.

One hit, two blocks—there. You slip under his guard and make an abrupt drop to the ground, sweeping his legs out under him with a fierce movement. He goes down in a tumble of beskar, joining you on the floor. As soon as he’s down, you flip over and straddle his hips, an arm over his neck in false threat.

He barks out a laugh. “Much better.”

“I’m not entirely hopeless!” you declare joyfully before bursting into snickers.

Leaning down, you thunk your forehead against his helmet. The gesture is fond, you’ve learned, something shared between close companions—or at least you think. Din told you that it’s called a mirshmure’cya in Mando’a, that it doesn’t have an equivalent word in Basic.

(Which is technically true. Literally, it means brain-kiss, but the outsider term for it is Keldabe kiss. It can be used for close companions—vode in arms, family—but it’s also used for romantic partners, so he’s mildly horrified at the idea of explaining its cultural significance to you and having to face his feelings for someone that may or may not be his Soulmate. He hasn’t gotten up the courage to ask if he can check. Or try to do it discreetly.)

A distant beeping starts up, coming from the cockpit. It’s the approach warning, which means the training session is over.

“I’ll get the kid,” you say, climbing off Din and offering a hand.

He takes it without hesitation, dragging himself up and making a beeline for the cockpit.

Tatooine is about what you remember. That is, it’s dry, sandy, and the worst planet you’ve ever been on. Stepping out of the ship and into the hangar makes you smile, though, at the not-so-distant memory of Din saving your life. It hasn’t been that long, but it feels like it’s been years.

“Oh, hey!” says Peli, after greeting the child—which is fair, he’s adorable. “You’re still with him! Haven’t repaid that debt yet, huh?”

Your face falls. “Uh, no, not really.”

On the way to Mos Pelgo, your thoughts linger on the life debt. One of these days, you’re going to save Din’s life—then where will you be? Will he want you to leave? What will you do if you have to leave? Your old life was nowhere near as interesting as this, nor did you have anyone close to what Din and the child are to you.

The dreary grey slopes of sand only make it easier to think of the worst possible outcomes. Now you remember why you hated Tatooine so much.

You don’t even realise the speeder is approaching the small town until Din taps your arm, which is wrapped around his waist. Jumping at the touch, you loosen your grip sheepishly and glance at the child, who looks like he’s enjoying himself immensely.

After the speeder comes to a stop, you take the kid while Din enters the cantina.

When you enter yourself, you find that he’s about to shoot someone, while the Weequay behind the bar looks rather distressed.

“Perfect timing, as always,” Din remarks without a glance.

You raise your free hand. “You’re the bad luck charm, I’m just here for the ride,” you retort teasingly.

“You brought a kid to a gunfight?” his opponent asks, raising an eyebrow.

Finally, you glance over at him and see why Din looks ready to kill him. He’s in Mandalorian armour but his helmet is off—clearly, he’s not Mandalorian. “You’re wearing beskar and you’re not a Mandalorian, buddy. I think you’re in more trouble than the kid is.”

“He is,” Din gets out, a twinge of viciousness in his voice.

Before they can even reach for their blasters, though, the ground starts to shake.

You grab onto the doorway for support, eyes wide as you grip the child. Din and the Mandalorian poser move toward the door, joining you and staring out at the street outside.

The entire planet feels like it rumbles and chaos reigns outside.

Something is moving the sand—coming toward the town.

“Holy fuck,” you whisper as it goes by, shifting the sand like it’s an ocean rather than earth. It flies out of the ground, sharp teeth the only thing you see as it consumes a bantha whole.

When it’s gone, the poser huffs. “Maybe we can work something out.” He turns to you, offering a hand, which is covered by fingerless gloves. “Cobb Vanth. I’m the Marshal here.”

You take it hesitantly, glad that things are still black and white when you make contact. “(Y/N).”

He notices your hesitation and chuckles. “The Weequay in there is Sala, my Soulmate. I’ll see if they can’t whip up something for the kid; I’m sure he’s starving.”

“Very,” you say, just before he goes to leave.

When it’s just you and Din, you look over at your companion. “Krayt dragon, huh?”

“Yep,” he sighs, already sounding tired.

You laugh. “I know I said I could bring you to one when we met, but I was totally kidding.”

He looks over at you and you can feel the low-level glare behind the visor, but it only makes you snicker. “I hate you.”

“You’re so full of shit,” you retort immediately.

You finally get to repay your debt.

It’s not what you’re thinking about when you shove Din out of the way of the krayt’s projectile venom, but it’s repaid nonetheless.

Din doesn’t think of it immediately, either, as he’s rather more concerned with the fact that you’re sent flying across the desert into a pile of debris and sharp rocks.

“(Y/N)!”

Before he can run to you, Cobb grabs his arm. “The dragon!”

To be honest, killing the dragon feels like a bonus when he pulls himself together and figures out a plan. When the great beast explodes, the Tuskens and the villagers cheer, but Din races back to the place he saw you last. He pushes aside the remains of one of those massive weapons they built to find you, laying on the ground. For a moment, panic clutches his heart, but then you groan.

“Am I dead?” you ask.

Din lets out a breath, hardly managing it, as he kneels next to you. “Dumbass.”

“Because it feels like I’m dead.”

“Dumbass,” he repeats, ripping your shirt away to find a deep cut in your side, just above your hip. “Of all the ways to pay your debt—”

You sit up, wincing. “Oh,” you say, as if you hadn’t realised it, “I guess I did that, too.”

Din’s heart is still beating a million klicks a second at how close you were to being dead, but for a second, it flips, realising that you hadn’t saved him just to pay the debt. And then, as he’s helping you off the ground and bringing you toward the others, who have bacta patches ready, his heart sinks.

Your debt is paid. You don’t have any reason to stay with him and the kid. As soon as you get back to the city, he’s going to have to watch you leave.

Shit. He didn’t think this through.

Meanwhile, you’re on the same train of thought. Does he really think you saved him for the debt? Does he want you gone that bad? It makes sense. You’re a pain in the ass, with all the training you need. But...well, you thought he might’ve—

“I’ve changed my mind,” you declare.

Din, terrified, attempts to sound neutral. “About?”

“The worst job we’ve ever taken. This is definitely it,” you huff as he helps you down onto a smoother boulder, taking patches from a Tusken.

He goes to use them, but you raise a hand.

“If you even think about getting near my wound with those nasty gloves, I’m going to skin you,” you threaten.

Frankly, Din is too shaken to even laugh. The silence lays there, stilted, as he removes his gloves and sits somewhat behind you, on another close stone. You’ve taken yours off, too, seeing as one is ripped all the way through.

He’s careful with the bacta patch and his bare hands, making sure not to touch your skin.

Now, of all moments, would be the worst time to find out that you really don’t have a reason to stay.

While he works, he thinks, briefly, that he should say something. “(Y/N),” he starts to say. “I—”

But that happens to be the moment he’s putting the bacta patch on. You suck in a sharp breath through your teeth, wincing. Your hand flies out, reaching for something to ground you. Of course, because something out there has it out for you, you grab his hand, forgetting that his gloves are, for once in his life, not there.

You realise, ridiculously, that his hand is warm.

And then the world around you explodes into colour.

The faded yellow of the surrounding desert is overwhelming with how it burns into your eyes alongside the brilliant blue of the sky. The surrounding Tuskens are in browns and greys, simple things, but so, so beautiful to your new sight. You breathe out, a shaky action.

Behind you, Din comes to see the same, but his gaze is stuck on the back of your head—the (h/c) of your hair and how the light catches in it, despite it being a complete mess.

You barely have the breath to gasp, but you do, whirling around to face him.

His beskar is beyond what you’d pictured: a shining, sparkling silver that could stand out on a star. No wonder rooms fall silent at the sight of him.

Din has the same thought about your eyes. On death’s door, all he’d wanted was to know what colour they are and now he knows, but it feels so useless now. He doesn’t even know what to call them. Sure, (e/c) would work, however weakly. You are...something else. You always have been, but now it’s like he can see it, the beauty of who you are so plainly painted into your features.

Din doesn’t even have the time to be afraid of your reaction before the words are slipping out. “I don’t want you to go.”

You just stare at him for a long moment, words processing.

It...kind of freaks him out.

He jumps when you fling yourself at him, arms wrapped around his shoulders in the tightest hug he’s ever gotten. Immediately, he responds, clutching the back of your shirt like it’ll save his life.

“Thank the Force,” you breathe out, just beside where his ear is under the helmet. “I don’t wanna leave.”

Din lets out a breath of relief and tugs you closer so you’re practically sitting on his lap. It can’t be comfortable, but you don’t seem to mind. When you do finally pull away, it’s to press your forehead against his helmet. It sends a swell of affection through him again, your constant Keldabe kisses. He taught you something important to his culture, to him, and here you are, using it without thought.

“Is it too late to tell you that this is the Mandalorian equivalent of a kiss?” he murmurs, more than a little embarrassed.

You laugh softly, arms reaching to rest around his neck. “And I thought you were so cool.”

“I just blew up a krayt dragon,” he argues.

“Oh, you’re plenty badass, Din,” you tease back, “just...not smooth.”

He huffs. “I’m gonna kick your ass next training session.”

A grin comes over your face and, for a second, he can’t comprehend why that would make you smile—until he realises that he just promised a next time. You’d genuinely believed he wanted you gone and Din thought you wanted to leave, but neither of you were right.

A whine from below catches both your attention.

The child reaches up from the ground, making grabby hands.

You laugh, a noise Din echoes quietly, and pluck him from the ground, holding him in your careful hands. “Hey, buddy. Feeling left out?”

He squeaks a confirmation, his little hands—green hands, you realise, deeply amused—reaching for Din’s helmet. Once he has a comfortable hand, he bashes his head against the helmet.

Din yelps, not out of pain, but concern, grabbing for the kid, who wobbles dizzily.

“Oh, shit—” Din says.

“Woah, woah,” you get out between wheezing laughs. “Don’t do that! His head is much harder than yours.”

The kid makes a weak huff and curls against Din’s chest stubbornly.

“I think that was an attempted kiss,” you suggest to Din.

Underneath his helmet, he grins. Petting the child’s head with a gentle finger, he looks back up at you. “It was cute.”

“Very,” you agree.

Without prompting, Din reaches for your hand again, a little hesitant. You take his gladly, running your thumb across his knuckles, which makes him shiver.

“Clan of three,” he whispers.

You lift your gaze. “Hm?”

“The Armourer, she said, ‘Clan of two’ when she gave me my sigil,” he explains. “I wanted to correct her then.”

The smile on your face is beyond words. “Clan of three has a ring to it. You’re stuck with me for good now, Din Djarin.”

He snorts and raises your hand to his helmet, touching it briefly to the metal in lieu of kissing it.

Tatooine might be the worst place in the universe, Din thinks that it doesn’t matter so much where he is. Sitting here, with you and the kid, he thinks that this might be home.

River’s Tags: @hahaboop & @mystoragehatesme

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gallickingun · 4 years

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currently writing for: dragon ball z, and my hero academia. i do not tag drabbles and/or thirst posts here, only full length fics.

as if it needed to be said, i always make sure every character i write for is of age, regardless of whether or not there is “of age” content that is in the fic!

LAST UPDATED: may 20, 2020

REQUEST STATUS: open | CURRENT # of REQUESTS: 149

fic: moving target word count: 12.3k rated: t+ warnings: violence, language, a lil spice, a creepy scene using a quirk, etc. ship: bakugou katsuki x reader prompt/scenario/trope: bodyguard au summary/excerpt: Bakugou Katsuki’s reputation needs a little work. His manager and agent suggest he take a job as a personal bodyguard to one of the agency’s biggest donors, looking after his daughter, in order to increase his social standing and rise back up in the hero ranks. Bakugou agrees, reminding himself that whoever he’s babysitting is nothing more than a glorified paycheck, a stepping ladder to get closer to surpassing even All Might in hero status. But, when you’re kidnapped, he has to face the truth that you might mean more to him than he planned.

fic: turn it out for me word count: 2,205 rated: m/e+ warnings: spice, language, blood, etc. ship: bakugou katsuki x reader prompt/scenario/trope: "You’ve got something on your mouth. Here, let me.” summary/excerpt: Katsuki keeps you under his thumb for hours, it feels like. You’re sure at some point you stopped breathing or your eyes rolled back too far and they’re stuck. However, he does not let up long enough for you to care. Bakugou is heavy as he loiters over the top of you, knees on either side of you as he lays you out, bare as a baby. “Kacchan,” you whimper, your head thrown back as his fingers probe at you again, teasing your nipples under his harsh touch. Bakugou chuckles, leaning back on his thick thighs to glower down at you, “Yeah, baby?”

fic: please, i beg of you word count: 5.3k rated: m/e+ warnings: praise kink, emotions, language, etc. ship: bakugou katsuki x reader prompt/scenario/trope: praise kink summary/excerpt: Bakugou has always been arrogant, but it is in these moments when you find him to be nothing more than a prodigy child begging to be a worthy man. Maybe your words can help soothe the burn on his tired soul.

fic: rivals and friends word count: 1.3k rated: t+ warnings: violence, language, etc. ship: bakugou katsuki x reader prompt/scenario/trope: “only you can call me that” summary/excerpt: He pauses, hand frozen on your shoulder blade. You smile but it’s ironic, “I’m headed to a new agency. You can have this whole class of sidekicks to yourself now. You can kick all their asses.” Bakugo blinks, and the thing he says next is confusing, “What the hell? You’re just-leaving?”

fic: suckerpunch word count: 4.3k rated: t+ warnings: violence, language, etc. ship: bakugou katsuki x reader prompt/scenario/trope: “it’s 2am and I’m calling you because I need you” // boxer!au summary/excerpt: “Fuck,” Bakugou brushes the heels of his hands over his eyes, one completely swollen shut and the other weeping uncontrollably. He fumbles in his pocket for his phone, bloody fingertips smearing over his screen. Another string of expletives tumble from his lips before he can find your name in his contacts. He can’t help but note the time on his phone - 2:37 am. “Please pick up,” Bakugou swallows the growing lump in his throat, “C’mon, pl-oh, hey.” Your voice rings out on the other end of the receiver, gravelly from sleep but he can’t even notice because he’s just so thankful that you’re awake now. His voice cracks when he speaks next, “C-Can you…shit, can you come pick me up?”

fic: rise up word count: 2.6k rated: t+ warnings: violence, language, a lil spice, etc. ship: bakugou katsuki x reader prompt/scenario/trope: “katsuki only calls reader by her real name” summary/excerpt: "You don’t see us as equals, do you?” He smirks, “Well, I am the one on top of you while you beg for mercy, so you tell me.” Your face burns bright red at his words and he falters, his breath hitching. He didn’t really mean it, it just slipped out. Or, rather, he didn’t mean for it to come across so honest.

fic: take me home word count: 409 rated: t+ warnings: alcohol, language, etc. ship: bakugou katsuki x reader prompt/scenario/trope: drunk!bakugou summary/excerpt: “Damn, you’re so heavy,” you grumble, holding him up by the shoulders, a majority of his body laying over you. “Ever think about going on a diet?” He pokes his finger into your cheek, “You’se try wavin’ those fuckin’ gauntlets around with chicken arms.”

fic: vice versa word count: 1.2K rated: t+ warnings: language, etc. ship: bakugou katsuki x reader prompt/scenario/trope: Bakugou getting hit by a quirk that makes him all sweet and clingy whit his s/o? He just wants cuddles! summary/excerpt: “You listen here, you half-pint!” Bakugou is collecting the sweat in his palms, biding time as he curses at the villain, “I’m gonna knock your ass sky high, you hear me? You’re gonna regret the day you were born!” Bakugou knows the whole reason that he got assigned to this mission was because it was going to be a quick one - nothing more than a d-list villain trying to make a name for themselves by flashing their quirk in public. He’s getting closer, stalking them down on the pavement as he feels the moisture building on his skin. He squeezes his hand, cocking the grenade-esque gauntlet on his right arm, a wicked grin on his lips as his eyes widen. The pin has barely left the mechanism before the villain is twisting in midair, legs twirling just enough to propel them forward. They flip, brushing the crown of Bakugou’s head with their fingertip - just enough that their quirk reaches out like tendrils to wrap around his body. The momentary distraction allows the other support hero to blast the villain with a stun-net, trapping them and detaining them to the asphalt. Bakugou turns, dazed and confused, but all he knows is he wants to get home to you.

fic: so special {to me} word count: 728 rated: t+ warnings: language, etc. ship: bakugou katsuki x reader prompt/scenario/trope: “katsuki uses a lot of nicknames for reader/SO” summary/excerpt: “Anyone hear Bakugou call her angel the other day?” Kirishima mutters behind the wall of his palm, looking at the others with wide eyes. You and Katsuki are currently at the noodle counter, standing close as he pays for the two of you to grab some lunch while you’re out with your friends. It’s winter break, college courses pausing just long enough for you to catch your breath. “I heard him say babe for the first time, I swear.” Denki chuckles, kicking his feet up into Kirishima’s lap. “He’s head over heels, that Bakugou.” Kirishima scoffs, “At least she doesn’t have a crude nickname like Shitty Hair.”

fic: sweet ass, smart ass word count: 2,355 rated: m/e+ warnings: a lil spicy, language, alcohol, etc. ship: bakugou katsuki x reader prompt/scenario/trope: bakugo’s SO likes to comment on his body, specifically his ass summary/excerpt: “Seriously, babe, it must be a side effect of your quirk, ‘cause you have a pretty sweet ass.” “I swear to Christ.” You smirk from over your glass, raising a brow as if to challenge him in this room full of people. You nudge his calf with the toe of your shoe underneath the table, everyone’s breath caught in their throats as they await what comes next. All Bakugou can do is grunt, turn his head to the side so no one can see the pink tinge on his cheeks, and take a long drag of his beer.

fic: something lost word count: 1,232 rated: t+ warnings: sadness ship: bakugou katsuki x reader prompt/scenario/trope: bakugou + SO losing a pregancy summary/excerpt: “You did nothing wrong,” he murmurs against your ear, holding you close. “This isn’t your fault.” “It’s my body, Kacchan. Kind of feels like my fault.” You swear you see the threat of tears making his eyes bulge when you look him directly in the face. Your lower lip wobbles, “I-I wasn’t strong enough.” His hands are rough as he snatches you by the jaw, holding you captive, “Shut the hell up, do you hear me?”

fic: kiss me slowly word count: drabble rated: k warnings: none! ship: bakugou katsuki x reader prompt/scenario/trope: bakugou + secret relationship summary/excerpt: You retweet an emotional message and Bakugou feels guilty.

fic: keep my secrets safe word count: 1.7k rated: t warnings: language ship: bakugou katsuki x reader prompt/scenario/trope: bakugou + talking in his sleep summary/excerpt: Bakugou hates covert work. And he’s hungry. But also, apparently he talks in his sleep?

fic: toxic kiss, forbidden words word count: 1,704 rated: t+ warnings: spicy, language, etc. ship: bakugou katsuki x reader prompt/scenario/trope: fwb + “I think I’m in love with you” summary/excerpt: Your legs start to give out, unable to hold this position for much longer. You tap his calf with your toes, getting his attention. Bakugou’s palm drifts down your thigh, his body slowing as he leans to look at the only visible part of your face over your shoulder. Bakugou can tell what your silent direction means, and so he pushes your knee at just the right angle that he can flip your body. Your back is flush with the mattress, the heat from your skin stark contrast to the cool sheets; it feels refreshing, so much so that your eyes roll back in your head at the sensation. The way he looks down at you makes you want to break your one rule; the one thing you both said would help you keep this nothing more than it is.

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fic: uncontrollable, uncontainable word count: 697 rated: t+ warnings: blood, violence, language ship: todoroki shouto x reader prompt/scenario/trope: todoroki + first kiss summary/excerpt: “I should have pulled back,” he starts to stammer, “I-I swore I wouldn’t use this side of me, because I can’t control it. Today taught me that.” “No,” you shake your head, voice coming out hoarse. When you swallow the lump in your throat, it pushes your tears over the edge, two little streams following the curvature of your cheeks. Shouto squeezes your palm, “I am no better than Endeavor - than my father.” “You are not your father,” you pinch the inside of his wrist, “hear me?”

fic: tomorrow is too far word count: 977 rated: g warnings: fluff - tooth rotting cuteness! ship: todoroki shouto x reader prompt/scenario/trope: todoroki + “unexpected hand touching” summary/excerpt: You sling your backpack over your shoulders and he takes the first step towards the exit, holding the door open for you once he gets there. It’s silent as you walk down the stairs and out the front entrance, the cool evening air washing over you like a balm. “Wow,” you breathe in the sunshine-laced air, feeling rejuvinated, “it’s beautiful.” Shoto tilts his head, considering you while you’re distracted, “Yeah, it is.”

fic: only for a moment {maybe for forever} word count: 1,069 rated: t+ warnings: alcohol, language, etc. ship: kirishima x reader prompt/scenario/trope: kiri + fake relationship summary/excerpt: “Please, just for a minute,” you say in a whisper before tensing back up, leaning further into him. It’s as if you’re getting back into character, the fog slipping over your face again, “You’re too sweet. I’ll pick up the next round, ‘kay?”

fic: you’re my home word count: 923 rated: g warnings: none! ship: kirishima x reader prompt/scenario/trope: kiri + tired cuddling summary/excerpt: “Wanna cuddle?” you ask, already knowing the answer. It’s not uncommon for Kirishima to need to recharge his battery when he gets home, and usually that’s fulfilled by curling up together on the couch and eating some greasy food. He is always calmed by your touch, by the anchor you give him to the real world, as he likes to refer to it.

fic: stars in my eyes, love in my touch word count: 2,769 rated: m/e+ warnings: spicy, language, etc. ship: kirishima x reader prompt/scenario/trope: kiri + pregnant!reader + fluff summary/excerpt: His mouth trails, pert blushed lips tickling your body, from your collarbones to your belly. He laughs once he gets to your navel, his voice soft as he speaks, “Not givin’ mama a hard time, are ya’?” Your heart warms at the sight of Kirishima mumbling to your unborn child, his fingertips tracing patterns and names over the stretched skin. He never fails to make you feel beautiful and important, especially not now. Kiri is always telling you how amazing you look, even if it’s in a pair of sweatpants and one of his tee shirts. “You’re so perfect, you know that?” Kiri kisses the top of your belly before pushing himself closer to your face. He’s smiling as he kisses you gently, much in contrast to the past couple of hours you’ve spent between the sheets. He doesn’t mind, though, not right now when your hormones are raging and you want every bit of him that he has to offer. Kirishima kisses your cheek before pulling away, tugging you close so you can curl up into him, “I don’t know who I had to bribe in another life to get lucky with someone like you, but thank goodness I did it.”

fic: when liquid courage fails word count: 1,389 rated: t+ warnings: alcohol, language, etc. ship: deku x reader prompt/scenario/trope: izuku + drunken confession summary/excerpt: “I don’t want to be best friends anymore,” he sniffles, his lips quirking as he tries to make the next words come out of his mouth. “I can’t be best friends a-anymore.” “Did I do something wrong?” You ask, racking your brain for something you could’ve said or done in the past couple of months to set him off, but you come up blank. You start to sweat, your hands flying around when you speak, “Deku, y-you could’ve told me, we could talk abo-” “No,” he reaches up to circle his hand around your wrist, tugging you back down to earth. He’s laughing, which is much unlike him, but it makes you pause, “This is why Kacchan told me to get drunk. B-Because I can’t think straight around you and I always screw it up.”

fic: quiet confessions word count: 763 rated: t+ warnings: n/a ship: vegeta x reader prompt/scenario/trope: “You’re in a coma and I confessed all my feelings for you only for you to wake up” summary/excerpt: “Stupid woman,” he speaks almost affectionately, swallowing the growing lump in his throat. “You’ve got to wake up, so I can tell you where my mind is at, what I’m thinking. Don’t you owe me that much?” He waits, patience wearing thin as your heart beats slower with time. As the machine echoes loudly in the room, he tries to even his breathing in tandem with the sounds. “No, I guess you don’t owe me anything.” His lower lip trembles, but he grits his teeth, straining his jaw muscles. “If there’s anyone who owes anyone else, it’s me. I owe you my life.”

fic: remember me word count: 6.9k+ rated: t+ warnings: mild language and violence, etc. ship: tamaki amajiki x reader prompt/scenario/trope: flower shop au summary/excerpt: Tamaki Amajiki saves a civilian. He doesn’t expect her to buy him coffee and teach him about the wiles of floral culture.

fic: vanilla soft serve word count: 754 rated: t+ warnings: none! ship: tamaki amajiki x reader prompt/scenario/trope: tamaki + first kiss summary/excerpt: Maybe it was the way you looked with ice cream on the tip of your nose. Or maybe it was the fact that his pulse was thudding in his ears. It might even be the way that your eyelashes flutter against the tops of your cheeks when you smile. Whatever it is, it makes Tamaki’s heart leap into his throat.

fic: rule breaker word count: 708 rated: t+ warnings: alcohol, language, etc. ship: tenya iida x reader prompt/scenario/trope: tenya + being hit by a personality reversing quirk summary/excerpt: “Yeah, babe, I’m fine!” He’s laughing now, tugging you forward to wrap you up into his thick arms. You’re sighing, falling into his embrace, taking it even though it feels foreign somehow. Tenya giggles in your ear, “Wanna head home?” The blush on your face magnifies tenfold; you know that Deku had to hear that as he passed by to say goodnight. Your eyes go wide and you tilt your head back, but Tenya is nothing if not smug. You allow you mind to wander for a second and you swear that he meant for Izuku to hear him. “Sure, but you’re not driving,” you mutter, grabbing him by the wrist.

fic: going rogue word count: 949 rated: g warnings: none! ship: tenya iida x reader prompt/scenario/trope: “just tell me why you did it! because i love you!” + you caught me doing something dangerous and flipped out summary/excerpt: “Now is not the time to be self-righteous, Iida!” You step closer, your knees knocking into the iron railing of the hospital bed, “You are going to face charges! This wasn’t a sanctioned mission, you practically went rogue! Just tell me why you did it!” What comes out of his mouth next is not something you ever could have guessed or suspected.

fic: stranded on a rooftop word count: 587 rated: g warnings: none! ship: keigo/hawks x reader prompt/scenario/trope: keigo + “soft smile before leaning in for a kiss” summary/excerpt: “Not a problem, sweetheart,” his thumb notches underneath your chin, keeping your attention no matter how much you want to look away. “I love helping out a sweet little damsel in distress.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

#bnha x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha imagine #bnha fanfic #bnha fanfiction #bnha one shot #morgan writes bnha #my writing #mobile masterlist #todoroki shouto x reader #tamaki amajiki x reader #keigo takami x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #tenya iida x reader #vegeta x reader #izuku midoriya x reader

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darling-i-read-it · 4 years

Text

The Number of the Beast Is 666...

3x12

Hannibal Lecter x reader x Will Graham

Hannibal Re-Write Series Masterlist

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: spoilers for hannibal, murder, guns, pregnancy, burning, canniablism

Author’s Note: Second to last episode. I’m in my feels. I love this show so much. I hope you guys enjoy!

I used some direct quotes from the script so some things may seem familiar

Official Episode Summary: The FBI enlists the help of Dr. Fredrick Chilton in hope of drawing Francis Dolarhyde into an ambush; Will's empathy for Dolarhyde impacts his psyche.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director

Tag List (is always open!) : @llperfectsymmetryll @ericacactus @vlightning95 @sweetgoodangel

(not my gif)

Will sat across from Bedelia. She had her legs crossed, her stance closed. She would likely not open up to him here, not in this space. It felt too much like a therapy session for his taste. You were healing quickly but you weren’t able to make it to this mock session. Instead, Bedelia was curious to know how Will was taking this.

“I look at my wife and I see her dead. I see Mrs. Leads and Mrs. Jacobi lying where Y/N should be,” he said, his voice bitter. Bedelia nodded slowly.

“Do you see yourself killing her?” she questioned. Will rose his chin up at the accusation.

“No. I see myself killing the rest of them,” his voice lost some confidence as he spoke that but he quickly regained it, “but not her.”

“It’s hard to predict when brittle materials will break. Hannibal gave you three years to build a family and a life, confidence he’d find a way to take them from you,” Bedelia stated.

“So you know?” he asked. She shrugged.

“I guessed.” Bedelia thought about you as a mother. It seemed like such a foregin way to describe you but not exactly wrong. “Hannibal wants to take her from you because he couldn’t have her.”

Will raised an eyebrow.

“Alternatively,” he suggested, “I don’t think Hannibal knew that it was going to be Y/N.”

“But he wants her. Aggression can be effective means of maintaining order in a relationship. Which relationship that is is debatable.” Will adjusted his seating.

“What’s he going to take from you?” he asked.

“Is it important to you that he take something from me?” she questioned.

“Hannibal has agency in the world.”

“Hannibal has no intention of seeing me dead by any other hand than his own, and only then if he can eat me. He’s in no position to eat me now,” she said smoothly. He nodded in agreement.

“If you play, you pay.”

“You’ve paid dearly. As has your wife. That knowledge will lie in the skin forever.” She thought about that for a moment. “It excites him to see you marked in this particular way.”

“Why?”

“Why do you think?”

Will studied her, amused and almost annoyed by her psychiatric games. He played this enough with Hannibal.

“Bluebeard’s wife. Secrets you’re not to know, yet sworn to keep,” he said. Bedelia raised her chin and shook her head, ever so slightly.

“I was not Bluebeard’s wife, I was your wife’s stand in.” She paused. “But if I was, I would’ve preferred to be the last.”

Will considered this. He thought about you. He was away from you and that seemed nearly illegal. You and him had always been together. But then he thought of Hannibal. He thought of you and Hannibal. He thought of the three of you. His mind slowed for a moment.

“Is Hannibal…in love..with me?” he asked. Bedelia smiled.

“Could he daily feel a stab of hunger for you and find nourishment in the very sight of you? Yes. But you are not just you. You come with Y/N Graham as well.” She reminisced on the days before Florence for a minute. Seemed like ages ago. “When Hannibal would hear the two of you bunched together like that he got irked, like his mind could only comprehend his want for one of you at a time. And then, as time went on, I think he realized that you came together. He could have both of you. The Grahams.” Will took this at face value. In a way, it was something he had always known. “But does she ache for him? Do you?” Will did not answer. He just stared. Bedelia went on. “Once you catch the Red Dragon, you can take your wife and your dogs home again. But will you go?”

Hannibal stood across from Jack. They hated the presence of each other but stiffled it, for presence purposes.

“Will’s thoughts are no more bound by fear or kindness than Milton’s were by physics. He is both free and damned to imagine anything.”

“Now that he’s imagined the worst,” Jack stated. Hannibal nodded.

“Like ducklings, we imprint on those ideas that grab our attention,” he explained.

“What’s got your attention? God, the Devil and the Great Red Dragon? I couldn’t believe you messed up with him Hannibal.” Hannibal ignored the last comment. That was an anger used to simmer for another time.

“Lest we forget the Lamb.”

“Will is the Lamb of God?” Jack asked. Hannibal thought about this for a moment.

“Hide us from the wrath of the Lamb,” Hannibal settled on.

“Who’s ‘us’?” Jack asked. Hannibal smiled.

“You, me, his wife and the Great Red Dragon.”

You walked with Alana down to Hannibal’s cage. Your shoulder ached and pained you but you ignored it as best you could. She looked at you steadily as you approached the door.

“Have you spoken to Will?” she asked. You looked over to her.

“He doesn’t even know I’m out of the hospital. Which will hopefully not cause any panic,” you muttered offhandedly. You glanced over at her and she saw an ounce of fear in your eyes.

“You know, when I found out I was pregnant it wasn’t exactly a shock. But I was scared. I knew the world my child was being brought into. But he’s okay now. It’ll all make sense, I swear it,” she promised. You gave her a sensitive smile and nodded softly.

“You brought a Verger baby. I’m bringing a Graham baby who will hear conflicted stories of the great Hannibal the Cannibal. I worry that I will bring the baby here to see him, if he’s still here. And they will be raised with him in the back of their minds, always wondering what exactly went on between their parents and a serial murderer,” you whispered carefully. As you finished you turned to the door and opened it before she could say anything more.

She let you walk through the doors alone.

Hannibal was standing at the glass. It was like he knew you were coming but the look on his face betrayed him. He was surprised to see you. And even a bit relieved, you could tell. You walked up to just a few feet away from the glass and stopped.

“Your shoulder-”

“It’s okay,” you promised. You glanced down at the floor and noticed that all of his things were gone, including his desk and chair. Reminded of the days when Will was in prison, you tentatively sat down on the ground.

Hannibal watched you and stayed still for a moment. Then he sat down in front of you on the ground. You smiled gently at the gesture.

“Will told you?”

“Yes.” You looked into his eyes. You stared into them, deep into them.

“I have a feeling that you will not be here to meet them,” you stated. “I don’t know why. I just feel like something is bound to go wrong. We will catch the Dragon and then we will go home and nothing will be the same.” Hannibal watched your emotions rise and fall. Your face that he yearned to touch. He almost reached his hand up to the glass.

“What will you name them?”

“I haven’t gotten that far yet. But Will is never going to allow Hannibal, if that’s what you want,” you said laughing.

“Pity,” he said and even he was laughing a bit. “I did not tell him to hurt you.” You nodded.

“I know.” You leaned forward. “What are you going to do about it then?”

Hannibal smiled.

As you walked out of the room Alana gestured to you. Apparently Jack and Will were already in the building.

You walked into the room with Alana and Will stood up.

“I was worri-”

“You never would have let me come if I told you. How’s Bedelia?” He shook his head and grabbed you by the waist, kissing you on the forehead. It conveyed his worry. He turned back to Jack.

“Eight people dead in a month. We can’t play a long game. I say we go for it. You know I know it’s the best way to bait him,” Jack said. He didn’t even glance twice at you.

“You know Jack, if you had wanted me dead you didn’t have to go through all these lengths to make an attempt. Bringing Will, talking to Hannibal, calling the Dragon. It was all so extensive,” you sneered. Jack gave you a look.

“We don’t have time for this.” You slammed your hands on his Alana’s desk that he was standing behind.

“It could have been me Jack. You would’ve had to go to my funeral and sit in the front row next to my grieving husband and wonder, ‘huh could I have done something to change this outcome’. And your mind will say no and so my husband would have sat there, thinking it was his fault, for the rest of his life!” you screamed. Jack was still. He had seen you like this once before. When he arrested Will. Alana watched from where she was standing by the window, a proud look on her face.

Will was more or less scared.

“And what do you do now? What do you do now?!” you asked. “Oh yes. The only logical solution. Send Will into the fire and bait the Dragon.”

“Will suggested i-” he started but you gave him an ice cold look.

“I don’t care.”

“We’ve fooled ourselves once into believing we were in control of what was happening. Are we still under that delusion?” Alana asked. You turned to her and Will did as well and as he did so he staggered. He had seen something in his head.

“The Dragon has a certain abstract curiosity about me Y/N. All psychopaths are narcissists, they love to read about themselves. We should use Freddie.” You turned to him and he saw again whatever he had seen on Alana’s face. He grabbed your arm out of instinct.

“I’m not letting you put yourself in harm's way.”

“We’re already in harm's way. Both of us.”

“She would need to interview you,” you said. “Take your picture.”

“We’re in it now. Can’t go home as long as he’s loose. I really bad mouth the Red Dragon in Tattlecrime and then give him a shot at me.” You turned to Jack Crawford.

“If I had to choose, it would be you giving the interview. You risking your life. You.”

You sat on a desk. Will stood just in front of you, his leg touching your knee. You had your fingers wrapped around the underneath of the desk as you looked over at Freddie Lounds where she sat. Chilton was in front of her, Alana and Jack elsewhere in the room.

“There’s a strong bonding of aggressive and sexual drives that occurs in sadists at an early age,” Chilton said.

“He's a vicious, perverted, sexual failure. An animal,” Will stated. You stared at Will and noticed that it had caught Chilton off too. You smiled a bit at the corners of your mouth.

“The savage acts aimed primarily at the women, and performed in the presence of family, are clearly strikes at a maternal figure.”

“The Tooth Fairy’s the product of an incestuous home.” Freddie scribbled this down aggressively, eating it all up.

“This is the child of a nightmare.” Those words hung in the air for a moment. Freddie pressed the stop button on her recording.

“We need a key shot taken in your ‘Washington hideaway’,” Jack said.

“Can I flip off the camera?” you asked.

“You’re not going to be in the picture,” Will chastised. You shrugged.

“I’d love something like you in a bathrobe, at the desk, poring over an artist’s conception of the Fairy,” Freddie said, holding up an artist concept drawing of Francis. You raised an eyebrow.

“I’ll stand by the window.”

“I don’t know, the bathrobe seemed compelling to me. Maybe I’ll pick up my first copy of Tattlecrime,” you said. Will gave you a look but you just smiled. Freddie seemed to like that you agreed with her.

“Make sure you can get the fountain and the Capitol dome behind me Freddie. The Red Dragon has to be able to find this place, if he wants to,” Will finished. Freddie nodded and walked over. “Would you like to be in the picture, Frederick?”

Alana slid a package through Hannibal’s cage.

“May I open it privately?” he asked.

“You may not.”

She looked down at it as he started to open it. The box fell open to reveal two lips, no longer attached to their owner. Hannibal contained his surprise and anger. He took one between his fingers and straightened his backs.

“As though presents would allow me to forgive him,” Hannibal muttered but still, he put the lips between his own and ate it.

You stared at the screen in front of you. On it was Frederick Chilton, notably restrained. Beside you stood Will and at his desk was Jack Crawford.

“I have had a great privilege. I have seen with wonder and awe the strength of the Great Red Dragon. I lied about Him. All that was said was lies from Will Graham,” Chitlon said. You straighten your back. “He made me say them. I have blasphemed against the Dragon. Even so, the Dragon is merciful. He knows you made me lie, Will Graham. Because I was forced to lie, He will be more merciful to me than to you, Will Graham.” You hated this. Every fiber of your being hated this. You wanted to turn it off but you didn’t, you needed to see the end. “Reach behind you, Will Graham, and feel for the small knobs on the top of your pelvis. Feel your spine between them; that is the precise spot where the Dragon will snap your spine. There’s much for you to dread. From my own lips, you’ll learn a little more to dread.”

“Turn it off, Jack,” Alana said and Jack nodded, turning it off. You felt your spine all of the sudden. You were aware it was there. You felt it being tugged by a phantom force and turned to your husband, shaking your head. He stumbled back into a chair, head in his hands.

You sat in front of him and grabbed his hands. Your skin touched his face as he held your hands there, blocking his sight. You turned to Jack Crawford. If looks could kill…

Bedelia looked at you two. Back again, sitting together. Your shoulder slumped but otherwise seemingly unaffected. Whatever emotional tole this may have taken, you did not show it on your face.

Will on the other hand.

“Would you like to talk about what happened to Frederick Chilton?” she asked.

“The divine punishment of the sinner mirrors the sin being punished,” Will said.

“Contrapasso. If you play, you pay,” she repeated.

“Chilton languished unrecognized until Hannibal the Cannibal. He wanted the world to know his face and now, he doesn’t have one,” you said.

“We’re all making our way through the Inferno. Dante’s pilgrims,” Bedelia siad.

“We’re pets, not pilgrims. And the Great Red Dragon kills pets first,” Will muttered.

“I hate that name. I wish we knew his actual name so we could call it so. It must be something mundane, something so unassuming,” you whispered, shaking your head.

“You put a hand on Dr. Chilton’s shoulder for the picture Will. Touch gives the world an emotional context.” She gestured to the hand that was brushing yours. Not holding. Just touching. “The touch of others makes us who we are. It builds trust.”

“I put my hand on his shoulder for authenticity,” Will argued. You felt that wasn’t true but you didn’t say it.

“To establish he really told you those insults about the Dragon? Or had you wanted to put Dr. Chilton at risk? Just a little?” Bedelia questioned.

“I wonder,” Will muttered.

“Do you really have to wonder?” she questioned. He paused.

“No.”

“Did you know what the Great Red Dragon would do Will? You were curious what would happen, that’s apparent. Is this what you expected?” Will was glad you were there. He grabbed your hand fully.

“I can’t say I’m surprised.”

“Then you may as well have struck the match. That’s participation.” She studied the two of you. “Hannibal Lecter does indeed have agency in the world. He has both of you.”

“He did Chilton like it looked like you did Freddie Lounds. Hannibal said he would, in his own way,” Jack muttered. They stood outside of where Chilton was being taken care of, you beside him and Will.

“He wanted to make amends to Hannibal,” Will said. You crossed your arms.

“He’ll have to do better than that.” Jack walked inside of the room but before Will walked in you grabbed his arm.

“I hate this. I have a pit in my stomach and it won’t go away,” you whispered. He faced you completely and put his hand on your cheek, moving away some hair.

“That’s a baby,” he joked. You rolled your eyes but smiled.

“I mean a feeling Will.”

“It’s going to be okay. We’re going to be okay.”

You didn’t believe him.

3x13

#hannibal lecter x reader #will graham x reader #will graham x reader x hannibal lecter #hannibal lecter x reader x will graham #will graham imagines #hannibal lecter imagines #hannibal imagines

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sleepymccoy · 4 years

Text

Aziraphale’s demon aspect

As voted by 246 people!

The winner is

Owl

with nearly 26% of the primary vote

many people added in their free form answers that they were imagining a barn owl specifically

Owl was the front runner the whole way through this survey, but most of the time by a very beatable margin. The 40 or so people who voted in the last night really tipped it over, it was a tight race! And the results are crazy split imo, a quarter of votes constitutes a win! I love the different opinions and ideas we all have so so much

Ram/sheep came in a hearty second with 16.5% of the vote

A very regal demon there.

After that it gets a little murky, so I’m going to share the second graph I made when is every animal that got more than 1% of the vote. So it’s the top six animals

Magpie and Lion holding strong! Then Moth and Goat looking very good

The second question let you vote for as many options as you thought were appropriate for Aziraphale! So, there were a lot more write-ins! It’s crazy!

I’m using google sheets so I can’t get it to show you every name, but the raw data will be in a read more so you can scroll through everyone’s beautiful imagination there

Again, Owl winds with a solid 20% of the vote. Ram/Sheep coming in with about 15%, followed by Moth, Magpie, Goat, Lion, then Tortoise.

Tortoise was 11th in the first round, tied with Snake (but pale), and managed to surprise me by coming through so strong in the second. Slow and steady, baby.

Nearly everyone who wrote in about Magpies told me that Magpies hoard stuff, so it’s nice to see the hive mind at work there!

Five people told me they were voting goat because of that one piece of art by @hollow-head that shows Aziraphale scaling a bookshelf like goats do cliffs. As an artist myself I found it legitimately moving that this one image had stayed with people so strongly. That’s just beautiful. Here’s an example of just one person’s comment

idk dude i just remember one person posted art of him scaling the bookstore shelves like those goats scale mountains and just eating his clothes while he reads it was so fuckin funny but anyway goat eyes are great or he could have lil stubby horns that r covered by his hair

One moth enthusiast took the time to give me a short essay on their choice of moth. I have included a portion of it, cos it was so great

So if I had to choose an insect, it would be a moth, preferably a Megalopygidae, also known as the Flannel Moth. They are fluffy, white-beige and look innocent and fluffy, but their larvae can cause painful inflammations. A poodle moth would also fit because it's almost pure white.

Here’s a flannel moth for everyone

and a poodle moth, which i honestly thought was a hoax but i looked into it just now and it seems legit? There’s not a tonne of proof, but the og pictures are from a scientists who stands by them, so like, wow

And then a DIFFERENT PERSON put this in;

the moth i had in mind is Acherontia atropos, in polish called Zmierzchnica trupia główka (meaning more or less "dusk death's head"). i have a whole symbolism planned out and stuff

Fucking, moth fandom come through!!

I’m vaguely scared of moths, fun fact. I don’t like the thick thunking sound they make when they hit stuff.

Here is the second round but with all the animals that got four or less votes removed for ease of viewing

the one segment there at 12 o’clock that google hasn’t labeled for me is Swan at 0.9%

I cannot believe I didn’t put swan in as an option, that’s all write-ins

So, to summarise, I suggest you take a lot of this with a grain of salt. It is not meant as an instruction to fandom or to railroad creativity. I have a narrow corner of the Good Omens fandom that I interact with, and while this quiz was up for a week I’m not sure it reached a great variety of people. About 250 folks filled it out, which was tonnes more than I expected and I love each and every one of you for filling it out!! But I have noticed that Owl was first on my list and in the free form answers the example prompt I gave included, “such as a breed of owl that specifically speaks to you,“ so I think it’s possible I did that unknowing bias thing that practiced survey folk know now to do. So, grain of salt.

I also think that if animals like Swan and Cat were in the list of options they’d’ve gotten more votes because the people who voted for those were coming up with it fresh themselves. I suspect people would’ve voted for them, but it just didn’t occur to them in the moment. In much the same way it didn’t occur to me in the moment I was writing this survey.

So people know, I got the ten or so animals that I put in the survey from searching the demon!aziraphale tag on tumblr, so it was all stuff that other people had come up with. I was trying to avoid my own bias, but i think in hindsight i could’ve done better!

Having said all that, this was all so much fun and the results are clear!!! Love a good owl!aziraphale

Imma continue to draw my boy as a ram, though. Cos this was all just for a laugh <3

numbers and a few more things under the cut

So some of these have half a vote ascribed to them. That’s for people who in their freeform answer said things like this;

ngl, that one post about him being a swan still makes me laugh

Mourning Dove. Though that Scallop answer was fucking brilliant

And I kinda made a judgement call that that wasn’t a vote, but it was kind of a vote. So I gave them half a point.

There were a few situations where people would write in a specific species. If I got more than one vote for the root animal I just grouped them together, but if it stayed the only vote then it kept the species. Cat got the most specific species mentioned, and in the second vote Bat had a few species mentioned (albino bat being my fave), but I ended up grouping them all just under Cat and Bat to give them a better chance of getting on the graph. There were probably a few other examples but I can’t think of them. The one exception to this is the person who wrote-in Duolingo Owl specifically. For that one I figured Owl is already pretty solid, and that’s just fucking funny, man

I was also pretty generous about some stuff. So, this person didn’t vote for Moose but they clearly regretted it so I added a vote for Moose in the second one where you could vote for multiples. They kept their Ram and Goat votes, of course, but I added Moose for them

I get very bastard energy from my demon az headcanons. Like f-ing shit up for a laugh more than anything, but otherwise indifferent. That's kinda why I like the ram/sheep/goat thing so much because it reminds me of indifference and random chaos. Or a moose. Shit, I should have written in moose

So yeah, it’s hardly a double blind study that’d stand up to any real criticism, but it was fun and I think the essence of it is fun!! Scroll through and have a read. Imma pull a few more of my fave write-ins and put them down the bottom cos it’s great. Esp the ones that only got one vote, the reasonings were stellar on some of those

Here is the first vote results, where everyone could only vote for one animal each

Owl 63 Ram/Sheep 40 Magpie 28 Lion 26 Moth 21 Goat 17 Swan 4 Eagle 4 Dove 4 Cat 4 Tortoise 3 Snake 3 Scallop 2 Rat 2 Rabbit 2 Mongoose 2 Badger 2 Shima Enaga 1 Shark 1 Porcupine 1 Orangutan 1 Mouse 1 Long Furby 1 Hippopotomaus 1 Goose 1 Duck 1 Dragon 1 Cow 1 Cereberus 1 Boar 1 Bee 1 Bat 1 Alpaca 1

Second Vote results, where everyone could vote for as many as they wanted

Owl1 82 Ram/Sheep 136 Moth 108.5 Magpie 98 Goat 96 Lion 72 Tortoise 61 Snake 37 Eagle 33 Cat 9.5 Swan 7.5 Lizard 4 Rabbit 4 Badger 3 Mongoose 2 Dove 2 Mouse 2 Squirrel 2 Bear 2 Raccoon 2 Capybara 2 Dragon 2 Bat 1 Long Furby 1 Rat 1 Boar 1 Goose 1 Peacock 1 Pangolin 1 Lindworm 1 Moose 1 Chinchilla 1 Duolingo Owl 1 Cackatoo 1 Crow 1 Cow 1 Alpaca 1 Dodo 1 Shark 1 Big Dog 1 Snow Leopard 1 Scallop 0.5

All voting was optional. To help explain how scallop lost 1.5 votes from first to second, I believe the people who voted for it in the first question just skipped the second cos they’d said their bit.

In terms of how many people engaged with the questions, Q1 had 245 answers and one skip. Q2 had 241 answers and 5 skips, and Q3 where I just let people talk at me if they wanted to had 84 answers and 162 skips.

So please enjoy my selection of free form answers. They all made me smile but putting all 84 in seems excessive to me, so I’ve chosen the ones that are either full blown mini essays or that make me laugh. It’s still a lot, this project brought me so much joy

Shima enaga - It's the hair man

Cow (aka golden calf)

Scallop. He is a snack.

Swan. Elegant but very capable of fscking you up. Mates for life.

basically anything that is both gentle in nature and fiercely loyal, territorial and protective (but prone to anxiety). Also hedonistic esp. with food. For all of these reasons, I think a dog would be the best choice.

Dragon with his hoard of books

it’s about the teeth. just too sharp and too many to be human. (comment from op here, this person voted for shark, just for context)

Turkish Angora cat. Magnificently fluffy, incredibly intelligent, love heights and will jump off crazy high things and land on your head, gloriously dignified until they see a string and run into a wall, love one or maybe two persons to distraction and want everyone else to fuck off, will drape themselves over their person’s shoulders and go to sleep, range from “will jump in the sea to hunt fish and has a murder pit full of seagulls they’ve massacred” to “will fall over at the sight of a baby bird”, very particular about food and will yell at you if you get it wrong. Also the breed that some asshole took three cats from and bred parent to child to make Persians. The cautionary tale has been acknowledged and we love our crazy smart, single braincelled children.

I usually imagine him as an owl because they are nocturnal (and we know that Aziraphale can easily stay awake the whole night reading). Also the image of an owl puffed up is kind of ridiculous and reminds me of him, of how an annoyed Aziraphale would look. However the options above have made me think that a lion would suit him very well, too. A lion or just a very BIG cat. I mean, he makes pleading eyes to get what he wants, likes to be confortable, is a bit of a bastard and often puts himself in awkward situations from which he needs to be rescued. He just... acts very cat-like in my opinion. Also owls and cats are both predators, but are usually imagined (or, at least cats are) as cute little creatures, just like Aziraphale is an Angel of the Lord (a Warrior, actually) but looks all soft and cute and huggable. I dunno. Maybe I just want to pet an Aziracat.

I love all the other people's thoughts about demon!Aziraphale, but what about the honey badger? I try to explain why I have it in mind for demon!azi: its name (I think it's funny, expecially in English because 'honey' can make you imagine it's something sweet (it is for me), while the 'bad' in badger can be an alarm bell (like 'be careful! It is not like it seems!')); its face (ok, who can say its face isn't cute? I think, and hope, nobody can, and like the name, it is a misunderstanding: as always, be careful, it's not like it seems!, I think demons can say something about demon!azi as like "you don't seem like a 'good' demon, you can't be, your face (animal and human) is too f-ing disgusting sweet to be a demon!", I think maybe even angel!crowley, at the beginning, can think something like this ("how in the world somebody so cute like you can be a demon?"), then he discovered how demon!azi can be a very talented demon sometimes, but in Crowley's mind azi is still his little cutie angry furry); its furry's colour (black=demon, white/grey/silver/idkitsname= color of demon!azi's wings, because even if he fell, I can't say no to his white wings 😭); it is a snake's predator (and in my mind angel!crowley is still a snake); its solitary life (demon!aziraphale is alone and he doesn't mind it, unless it's angel!crowley we're talking about, then our cute demon minds it); its behaviour (demon!azi, even if he's cute, can be a really very talented demon: honey badger is fearless and dangerous, it can fight bigger animals if there aren't other chances and it can't escape); its skin is very tough (except for a soft/safe spot, behind its neck if I remember well, that only angel!Crowley knows and sometimes he uses it to calm demon!azi down or make azi do some good deeds); its diet (it has a sweet-thooth, for honey in primis, but it can eat everything it wants... Doesn't it resemble demon!azi?); it's smart (search for Stoffle on your browser if you don't know)... Ok,I think I finish, sorry for the novel 😅

I tend to think of animals that meet three criteria: (1) they exemplify “faults” in his character exaggerated to “sins”—gluttony, greed/hoarding, sloth, (2) they are species that favor fawning or flight as a defense mechanism but can also be bold on occasion, and (3) blend very well or have a keen affinity with human society, specifically thriving in urban (i.e., city) environments. This is mostly because I can’t see “Aziraphale” in a reverse AU that doesn’t preserve some of his core traits as an angel (a little hedonistic, hoarding, anxious, etc.). So I like city-dwelling bastard animals with bonus points for relation to scripture, like a rock dove or a fox or an owl.

Owls aren't smart, and the pedant in me says not an owl. But, thinking on it, demon aspect, owls are perceived as smart, but designed as deadly silent predators, patient and solitary. So actually demon Aziraphale could take on more owlish aspects. I just like cockatoo better, since they are smart, and showy. Or a crow, although that does amusing things with Crowleys name.

god imagining him as a chimera is !!! (comment from op, there was this odd flurry of mythical animals being voted for one night. i think the survey hit a corner of fandom that leans that way. there was also dragon, another chimera, a griffon, and a lindworm all at the same rough time)

Magpies are great because they’re cute and fluff themselves up (go look at Sophie the magpie) and like hoarding their favorite things but also I’ve watched one just straight up kill another bird before because corvids are sneaky little bastards with no lack of a mean streak if they’re crossed

It’s the duolingo owl, I’m so sorry op but it just is. I genuinely don’t mean to clown on your post, but this take was delivered to me in a sleep induced haze and I believe it’s the god given truth. Demon Aziraphale WOULD try to make you learn a dead language and he’d go about it in a vaguely threatening way (comment from op, you’re so fucking right dude. also, shit like this is made for clowning, i’m with you 100%)

When choosing a demon aspect for a Aziraphale, I usually tried to keep in mind the artistic tradition of which animals are linked with demons. The Good Omens team seems to have drawn inspiration from that source because all the animals we do see are either reptilian or insectoid. Those species were often shown inhabiting hellish landscapes in Renaissance and Baroque paintings. However, Aziraphale never struck me as cold or slimy or hard like an exoskeleton. So if I had to choose an insect, it would be a moth, preferably a Megalopygidae, also known as the Flannel Moth. They are fluffy, white-beige and look innocent and fluffy, but their larvae can cause painful inflammations. A poodle moth would also fit because it's almost pure white.

Ok so the only reason I pick magpie is because those bastards are smart as hell but also know how and when to inconvenience the shit out of you, and if you gain their trust then they're absolute darlings but if they decide "nah, dont like ya" then you're basically done and you'll wake up every morning with shit on your car window. I also chose sheep/ram cuz I mean... idk it suits him. I don't remember my other choice but I'm sure I had a good reason.

I feel like a barn owl would suit him well but I'm not really sure why, I also think that a moth would suit him really well because of the whole "moth to a flame" thing and as a demon he would have gotten burned because of that attitude.

I write a reverse AU fic called Lambs to the Slaughter where Aziraphale's demonic aspect is an albino sheep! I imagine him as a mix between a wild Argali ram and the first woolly domestics. I chose an Argali because they're the largest species of wild sheep, but I wanted him to have traits of a domestic breed because he obtains his animal aspect from a sheep in Abel's flock which would be several generations down from the original wild species in Eden. I really think a sheep suits Aziraphale! They're an incredibly common animal and have been since they were first domesticated. Likewise, since the start of human history, Aziraphale has been living side-by-side with humans, providing for them, and protecting them. Due to how common they are, sheep are often unnoticed, which Aziraphale leans into. Crowley wants to stand out. He has a dedicated aesthetic and an obsession with human invention, where Aziraphale leans more towards simpler, known things and creature comforts. He fades into the background, and that suits him fine. He doesn't have to be outstanding to Heaven or to humans or even to Crowley -- it's enough to do his part, to trust in a bigger plan. People associate sheep (especially lambs) with innocence or ignorance which foils nicely to Crowley as the serpent tempting with knowledge, as well as with Aziraphale's own sharp mind and ongoing embers of faith in a system that is failing him, Crowley, and all of humanity. Sheep are, like Aziraphale, soft, cute, and hiding a hard-headed stubbornness and a surprising strength that makes them absolutely fearsome. Aziraphale is very much the sort to put his head down and push relentlessly forward regardless of the pressure and strain. Rams in particular have thick skulls to withstand the brutal force of headbutting one another in displays of dominance. While Aziraphale is clever, he's not above rolling up his sleeves and getting the job done, as messy and unpleasant as it might be (see: pulling a gun on the Antichrist). Also sheep are associated with Pan, a god associated with food, music, theatre, and the criticism thereof, which hit many of Aziraphale's personal interests and hobbies! I like the idea that in a reverse AU, the demon formerly named Aziraphale might be the original basis for Pan!

I wrote in Orangutan for the first question because if I remember correctly they are some of the most violent apes. Although I'd accept bonobo for him too. They fuck alll the time.

mothman aziraphale,,,,, thats it

Snowy owl, speremint's tortoise, and I just adore the goat.

moth - dusty and eats books

Long Furby the way Loni-Capri draws it.

I keep thinking about that Black Philip quote "doest thou wish to live deliciously" because... it fits so much with the general epicurean/hedonism vibe the Fandom has for him ... but in a demonic way and also I think a lot abt that art piece (already referenced many times probably but what the hell) of him climbing his own bookshelves, it's just so good!!

Albino Lion/white lion (matches his hair). I feel like maybe I should explain why I think Lion would fit him best, lol. Lions actually are rather sedate, inactive for 20 hours of the day (see: Aziraphale reading and unmoving- yes I pulled wiki for this to make sure I didn't spout anything terribly wrong, shhh) but also there's nomad lions. Lions that range widely and move around sporadically either alone or in pairs (*looks at Crowley after apoconope*) (pairs are more frequent among males who have been excluded from their birth pride) but also I think of lions as protectors, defenders, and what is Aziraphale if not that? If not an angel who fiercely protects humans, crowley, earth? (When he finally overcomes heaven and it's abuse) lions don't hunt unless they're hungry, don't attack unless they're defending. They've been known to sit directly next to jeeps full of people and just watch them, not attacking or being aggresive.

I saw art once (I have no idea who the artist is) of Demon!Aziraphale climbing his bookcases like a goat and absentmindedly chewing on his sweater while he reads. I felt like the goat aspect suited him perfectly.

Honestly I wrote Az with a rat aspect because, well, it fits who I see demon Az as. He's not super powerful but he is very consequential, like rats carrying plague fleas (this also describes how I see Az tempting). He tries to blend into a crowd, which is arguably one way rats survive, and can get himself into places/situations that should be impossible or super difficult. Like snakes, rats have been unfairly maligned by our culture for a long time, even though they are very social with their colonies, smart, affectionate, and generally good beans. Finally, male pet rats are known far and wide as the lazier of the sexes while the girls are super curious and adventurous.

Somehow his tartan pattern becomes either his colour scheme or his coat/feather pattern.

Eurasian eagle owl. A big, unapologetic grump of an owl that is soft as soft can be underneath. Possessor of the glare to end all glares to be used in such dire situations as being interrupted when reading or being told one has "had enough cake".

#demon!aziraphale #reverse omens #sleepy speaks #fandom vote #aziraphale's demon aspect #this was so fucking fun you all

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twst-campos13 · 4 years

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may i,,, request jack and deuce scenario with them studying in the library,,, they touch hands,,, and they all nervous and shy together,,, romantic-like- but they're not dating yet HAHAHAHA thank you plz take care of urself~

Hello!! This is my first shipping request to have received qvq! I’m very sorry that this took so long but I hope you enjoy it !! （=´∇｀=）/

Warnings: none! Tags: fluff, idiots pining, study date

“The braincell gets passed around here” GROUPCHAT

[Isekai Therapist: Hey guys! Sorry, I can’t come to our study group rn. Grim threw up a whole lunch and I have to take him to the infirmary.]

[“I’m gonna bench press a thousand truck”: Vil is being a pain in the fuckin ass as usual :) ] [“I’m gonna bench press a thousand truck”: Sorry]

[Cabbage boy: Lilia-sama called me for an important duty! My apologies!]

[The Responsible One: Oh. That’s understandable.] [The Responsible One: It’s okay.]

[🐣Chicc baby🐣: Yeah, that’s okay! I think I got here early anyway] [🐣Chicc baby🐣: And Ace?]

[♥️Bitchppola♥️: I forgot im on flamingo duty. Sorry babe]

[🐣Chicc baby🐣: Did you call me babe?]

[♥️Bitchppola♥️: Not like anyone is going to be jealous ;) ]

[Isekai Therapist: no flirting pls]

[Isekai Therapist: Jack, Deuce, we’re sorry for not coming!! I hope you two find some time to study]

Around fifteen minutes before their meeting time on a Thursday, the ones they anticipated to come did not come at all. Well, it is not that surprising, but still, the two of them were still surprised.

Jack knows that Epel will be particularly busy at this time of the month. Deuce knows that Ace does have a habit of canceling at the last minute, but he will not do that if he is the one organizing a study session. Both of them knows that Sebek and Yuu do have their own endeavors to attend to.

It is somehow underwhelming.

“Well…” Deuce sighs, tucking his phone back inside his pocket dejectedly. He and Jack had been standing in front of the library doors for quite some time now and waited for their friends to show up. They agreed to meet there at around 4 PM at least to study. Authentic assessments and written tests are starting to loom over them, and they did not want to fail, so Ace suggested they “combine all their braincells on Thursday 4 PM and teach each other.”

But there is no sign of the redhead nor any of their peers. “I guess we can try and meet up again tomorrow.” Deuce gives Jack an apologetic smile. He was looking forward to studying with the wolf. In their last study session, he had learned so much when Jack was leading. Deuce is also excited to show Jack his own set of organized notes. Unfortunately, your plans do not always go smoothly. That is why there is a next time. Hopefully always a next time.

“You’re leaving?” Jack asks when Deuce is about to take his leave. The Heartslabyul first year looks at him with mild surprise. “Uh…yeah? We can’t really do a “study group” when there’s no group to study with,” he tries to answer lightheartedly but hearing what he said somehow sounded a bit rude. Deuce grimaced. “I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”

Deuce is not sure what kind of reaction Jack’s natural scowl is suggesting. “It’s fine, you didn’t mean anything wrong,” Jack assures him. “Besides, you’re kinda right. Though, that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t cancel our session.”

The suggestion catches his attention and Deuce feels his energy come back with renewed vigor. If Jack wants to continue with their study plan then that means Deuce will be able to learn more from him and he can show Jack what he had learned!

“Even if it’s just the two of us?” Deuce asks, nearly bouncing on his feet despite his cautiousness. Jack gives him a grin—a voice at the back of Deuce’s mind comments how cute it is—and shrugged. “Yeah, why not? It’s still a study session.”

“Then let’s do it!” Deuce pounds his fist into his open palm, a grin stretching across his face as relief washes over him.

Jack feels his ear suddenly tug down when he sees how excited Deuce is that their study session is not canceled. He has to admit, his eagerness is admirable. Deuce takes the chances of being a great honor student wholeheartedly. Sure, he cheated one time, but he was serious when he said he would not do it again. Jack can see what a hard-working person Deuce is. It is what made Jack suggest that they could study together instead. It is not for anything else, come on, he is just helping a friend out.

When Deuce is motivated to study because he is with a trusted friend, Jack is motivated to teach him because he is willing to learn.

They entered the library quietly and behaved, not letting their shoes squeak against the floor unlike a few second years at the end of the room. The two first years greeted the librarian right after Professor Crewel left. Deuce thought it would be rude to interrupt the two adults that were seemingly caught in their own moments.

When Professor Crewel passed by them, he gave them an approving glance at their studying materials. It is not too ambitious to hope for extra credit points because a teacher saw you studying, right?

After signing their names on the logbook, they took a seat on one of the long tables juxtaposing the bookshelves. Deuce still feels a tingle of déjà vu when he visits the library. It feels like long ago when he, Ace, Yuu, and Grim were discussing their plan of fighting Riddle during a magic duel. Now, here he is, sitting beside one of the people he admired to study for a test.

Does Deuce think that Jack does not notice his staring? Jack wants to ignore his friend and continues to lay out their study notes neatly on the table to avoid clutter. Yet, when he is finished, Deuce is still dazing out. Only then did Jack stares back at him did he blinked out of his starry state.

“Was there something on my face?” Jack asks with an arch of his eyebrow. Deuce shakes his head, chuckling awkwardly, and looks away with pink ears. “N-No no! I was just lost in my own thought. I’m sorry for staring,” he apologizes and lays out his own study materials to start. “Do you want to start with Potions first?”

He changed the subject to put behind that brief awkward moment. Jack has no complaints about that and opens his book. “Sure. Ace mentioned you have some notes about the uses of dragon blood?”

“Twelve—I mean yes!” Deuce reaches for his Potions notebook, immediately flipping over the pages where he wrote the information. From the blur of white pages, Jack notices how organized Deuce makes his notes are. When he truly wants to understand something, Deuce does his best to create his own little keywords and highlights that connect to the topic he took note of. Jack’s ears twitch at the arrows and underlines across the page. Deuce sounds to be rambling about the dragon blood, but Jack is more interested in what he wrote in his notebook that he leans forward in interest.

The proximity startles the Heartslabyul student that Jack straightens his posture when Deuce squeaked. They look at each other, equally surprised. “Do…do you want to look at my notes?” Deuce offers, assuming Jack wants to for he leaned his head so forward they nearly bumped temples. Deuce could not help but feel pride warm his chest. Wolves have good eyesight and Jack could have scanned over his notes without leaning over. But the fact that he did lean over just shows that Deuce’s notes had intrigued him!

In contrast to the happy taps of Deuce’s heart, Jack’s is hammering. He could not believe he appeared so entranced by the patterns on Deuce’s notebook. He is about to apologize for his rudeness when he sees the twinkle of happiness in his friend’s eyes. The peacock greens appear brighter and rounder that Jack might as well see imaginary stars pop up beside Deuce’s head.

His adorable expression makes his ear twitch and for some reason his cheeks warm. Deuce does not notice this. He is waiting for Jack’s answer who blinks and looks away. “Uh—yeah, sure.”

The cute smile Deuce wears on his face is very similar to a puppy who just got rewarded. Seeing him get happy over praise and recognition stirs something in Jack’s chest. He does not understand why his tail is idly wagging at seeing Deuce’s smile and eagerness as accepting praise over one’s hard work should be natural. He should not be this adorable.

Wait—adorable? Jack, this is not the time to be dumbstruck! They have a test to study for, Seven’s sake. Jack should get serious. He wants Deuce to pass his test as well, so he should not get distracted and help out his friend to the best of his abilities.

It is challenging when it should not be. Deuce is an easy student to teach. He listens and asks questions for clarification when he does not get it the first time. Jack could say this study session has been going smoothly so far…with a few minor bumps. Metaphorical and literal bumps.

The table is not occupied by anyone else but them. However, they still need to speak in hushed tones to avoid distracting the other visitors in the library. Because of this, their proximity progressively narrows, occasionally brushing elbows or shoulders with each other. Do they shy away from this? No, of course not. Jack and Deuce are buddies. Being close just means they are comfortable with each other. So where did the awkward atmosphere come from?

Deny it as much as he will, but Jack has a crush on Deuce. Their closeness would not have been a problem if the slightest brush would not send sparks up Jack’s nerves. It does not make him jumpy or snappy, but it does make him a little tense that he had to brush it off to Deuce as being cold. Which, to normal people, would be a far-fetched reason, but Deuce seems to take the excuse anyway.

Deuce is equally tensed as Jack is but only a little bit. He is used to the subtle kinship for he sees Jack as a close friend. This just means that they are comfortable with each other as bros. There is no hidden feelings or subtext with their simple study session. In fact, Deuce welcomes the warm feeling over his chest. He feels absolutely elated to be able to learn more with Jack. Perhaps their other friends being unable to come is meant for this moment to happen.

And it seems Jack shares the same thoughts as he does for the realization hit him harder than the level of intimacy they are sharing. The Savanaclaw student stops his teeth from gritting. Those guys…they can be smart when they want to. Jack does not want to assume but he can deliberate that they purposely did not attend so they can set up Deuce and him on an impromptu study date. Well, not really impromptu, but still.

Even without confessing it out loud it seems that they had caught on that he likes Deuce. Jack tries not to be transparent and keeps up a front, but Ace pointed out that his ears and tail had snitched on him. It takes anyone with eyes to know he is into his best friend, as Ace had said.

Had Deuce caught on like he did? Jack does not think so. His friend’s nose is buried deep in his Magic History book—the next subject they are studying on. Jack stops highlighting some important pointers on his own book and stares at how the peacock green color of his eyes seems to flutter as it absorbs the lesson. Jack notices that Deuce’s eyebrows crease slightly when concentrating and he even mutters the words to understand them better. His voice makes Jack’s ears twitch. He is so curious to watch and soon Jack feels the tense air thin out between them.

Deuce’s scent is comforting. When he is idle, like this, Jack could feel the coolness of his scent, almost like mint. It is not a bold scent but rather a soft one. Like timidness waiting to slowly burst.

Like his bubble when those peacock greens swiftly stare back at him.

His tail stops wagging—it was wagging?!!—and his eyes quickly dart back to his own textbook. That was a close one. He cannot let himself get distracted again. Infatuation is alright but Jack doubts it will develop into something like puppy love. Better to focus on the origins of Merlin than the origin of their love story.

Deuce feels himself flinch a little when Jack looked away. His guarded expression makes him feel distant. The library is already quiet yet the silence falling unto them makes it more awkward. Deuce, while hoping his friend does not mind, inches his seat closer to Jack. The proximity from before made him feel comfortable and he wishes to feel that comfort again.

However, Jack flinches from the sudden brush of their arms. Deuce internally panics and stuttered an apology. “S-Sorry—it’s just, well, it’s—” He is cut off from Jack holding onto his arm before he can even scoot away. The warmness of his chest creeps up to his cheeks. Jack’s ears fold briefly before it points up. “You can stay close…so—so we can hear each other.” Jack looks like he is pouting but it might be Deuce’s imagination.

Well, nonetheless, he softly smiles at his friend, thankful that Jack did not push him away.

Jack removes his hand from Deuce’s arm so that they may focus on their lesson thoroughly. There is a little part of them, however, that wishes they may able to hold each other closer during their study session.

Bonus:

“Operation: Jack of Spades” GROUPCHAT

[mamayuu: they're doing it!! they're hanging out!! wohooo!!]

[the sexy one: TOLD YOU IT WOULD WORK] [the sexy one: HAH] [the sexy one: YALL BITCHES OWE ME 10 MADOLS]

[Yeehaw, bitch: I'm already broke and this is the shit you do]

[the supportive one: A deal is a fair deal. Although, I almost doubted you, Ace]

[the sexy one: ya shouldn't have lmao]

[Yeehaw, bitch: okay but are they gonna start dating after this?]

[the sexy one: wanna bet on it?]

[mamayuu: again?? ace all of us are broke]

[the supportive one: I will choose to stay out of this]

[the sexy one: epel?]

[Yeehaw, bitch: unlikely. 20 madols]

[the sexy one: okay fair]

[mamayuu: 30 madols. they arent that dense. besides, Jack will confess after this if we give him more push]

[the sexy one: make it 50 and we’ll call it a night]

#fullcowling #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland fanfic #twisted wonderland scenario #twst #jack x deuce #what is their ship name #jack of spades?#its cuuuute #your honor they have a bromance #jack howl #deuce spades #deuce spade #i still dont know if the fandom uses spades or spade #this was relatively shorter than my previous scenarios but thats fine!!

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