#update:: my sister did in fact come and get them | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dango-milk · 1 year

Text

to make them love me (and make it seem effortless)

pairings: aemond x fem! Targaryen! reader / original female character

word count: 15,046

genre: fluff, angst

content warnings: TARGCEST, age gap, mentions of death, mentions of childbirth, swearing (aemond has a potty mouth)

additional notes: we interrupt your regular genshin x reader viewing by bringing you this (big) little thing I wrote for aemond targaryen. he had me in a chokehold until I finally relented and. this is it.

expect a couple more works on this pathetic little meow meow and an eventual update to an ode to heartbreak!

read this work on ao3

“I don’t understand,” Aemond says in disbelief, pushing his helmet’s visor out of his face as he attempts to decipher the contents of the note. “How could I have not been informed of this earlier?”

Ormund shrugs. “Perhaps the tourney masters thought it best to rearrange the lists. More signed up for the games than they thought.”

“Their poor planning does not justify an inconvenience on my part,” Aemond scoffs. “I am a Prince of the realm. I should be placed higher up on the lists.”

“Never mind that, cousin,” Ormund attempts to console him. “It is your first tourney, after all—”

“—and yet it is one we all look forward to seeing.”

The two look up to see Aegon sauntering into the hall, grinning from ear to ear as if he’d just been privy to a particularly humorous joke. Aemond rolls his eyes as he shoves the note into Ormund’s hand.

“Why so tense, dear brother?” Aegon nudges Aemond playfully. “I only speak the truth. You’ve never really thought much of tourneys.”

“Some of us like to keep most of our thoughts to ourselves,” Aemond shoots back, as he fiddles with his armor. “Where’s Helaena?”

“Back in the castle.” Aegon jabs his finger behind him. “All the shouting was getting to her, so Mother had me escort her back.”

At Aegon’s words, Ormund’s expression lit up in realization. “Perhaps it was the Queen behind it!”

“Shut up!” Aemond hisses, at the same time Aegon asks, “Behind what?”

“Er…” Ormund scratches his head, lowering his gaze in response to Aemond’s murderous one. “Behind, er, the Princess’ nameday tourney.”

Aegon scoffs. “My mother can hardly be credited for my sister’s nameday tourney. We all celebrate our namedays for days at a time, with tourneys and feasts galore.”

He glances around, taking in the sight of the contestants and squires milling about the area. “Though our sister’s nameday tourney has, indeed, piqued the interest of all. How strange.”

“Hardly,” Aemond mumbles. “She comes of age today.”

“Ah!” Aegon claps his hands. “Our beloved sister comes of age today, yes. I wonder just what the prize is for this tourney.”

“Surely, His Grace would not decide who Princess [Y/N] marries based on who wins today’s tourney?” Ormund says, blissfully unaware of Aemond slightly wincing at his words.

Aegon frowns. “Have you never picked up a history book, cousin?”

“Have you?” Aemond retorts.

“Of course I did. I never said I read them, though.” Aegon sniffs. “It’s not usual, but it’s certainly not new. Tourneys are simply pageants in all but name. See for yourself.”

The trio turn to see a tall, sweeping teenager, with locks the color of night and skin like copper parading about the hall, his bronze armor chased with red, a spear piercing the sun on its front.

“Qoren Martell,” Aemond whispers, a sense of dread washing over him.

Aegon hums. “Came in right at the last second, as they were drawing up the lists.”

Ormund turns to Aemond, holding up the note he had been reading earlier, an expression of understanding dawning on his face. Aemond fidgets beneath his armor, hating that Aegon had a point for once; there really wasn’t any other plausible explanation for Dorne to finally start taking an interest in the Crown’s affairs.

Aegon looks over at him, seemingly contemplating his next line. He decides instead to clap Aemond’s back, sending him forward. “Oh, don’t worry, brother! The Dornish don’t mind sharing their lovers. They seem to enjoy it, in fact.”

Aemond turns and walks briskly away from his brother, Ormund hastily trailing beside him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Of course, Aegon had to press further, keeping up with Aemond’s pace in a couple of long strides. “Oh, but I think you do,” he says. “If there’s anything the Dornish get right, it’s their outlook on bastards. I’m sure Prince Qoren wouldn’t mind if [Y/N]’s children turn out to have silver hair and a remarkable resemblance to a certain other Prince—”

Aemond stops abruptly to stare Aegon directly in the eye. “[Y/N] is not you. You would let our sister disgrace herself and put the stability of the realm at risk?”

Aegon towers over him, smirking triumphantly. “You and I both know that’s not any of your concern.”

“Then you do not know me.” Aemond turns away again, walking towards the edge of the hall where the tourney field was being set up. Hordes of people continued filing into the stands, some of whom were dressed to the nines despite the sun beating down upon them like a drum. He glances at the King’s Box, watching as the newest arrivals, the Velaryons, occupy their seats next to Rhaenyra and her children.

A mix of gasps and cheers sound from the smallfolk as a shadow passes over them, coupled with a familiar-sounding roar. Aemond squints up at the sky, and his heart practically leaps at the sight.

The voice of the Master of Revels announcing your arrival is all but drowned out by Silverwing’s proud roar, as you land her atop the King’s Box, jostling the people inside. Rhaenyra grabs the end of Lucerys’ coat to keep him from falling off trying to look up at you, while Lyonel Strong steadies a visibly surprised Viserys. Aegon lets out a hearty laugh at the sight, and Aemond could not help but join in.

It’s only when the she-dragon lowers her neck does Aemond finally get a better look at you. You’re grinning from ear to ear, and the only thing that could compete with the brightness of your smile was the glint of your silvery hair in the sun. Your dragon climbs down the Box, much to your family’s chagrin as they grip the arms of their chairs to stay steady.

Silverwing dips herself to the ground of the tourney field, allowing you to dismount and pat her neck before you wave to the crowds. You don a black dress chased with blue (which Aemond presumes is for your late lady mother, who was an Arryn), with the Targaryen three-headed dragon embroidered on your front.

“A fly might make its way down your throat if you don’t close it,” Ormund murmurs in Aemond’s ear, and he only sniggers as Aemond elbows him in the stomach. When your eyes meet his, he prays his ears aren’t as red as he thinks they are.

“Seven blessings on your nameday, dear sister,” Aegon says, pairing the mock reverence in his tone with an exaggerated bow.

You only snort as you remove your riding gloves. “Save your courtesies for someone who actually believes them.”

“Now, is that any behavior befitting a lady who has just come of age?”

You deliver a playful punch to Aegon’s midsection, which he just barely dodges.

Ormund bows. “I wish you a happy nameday, Princess.”

Aemond fidgets nervously, silently cursing both Aegon and Ormund for getting to greet you first.

You smile warmly. “Thank you, Ormund.” When you turn to look at Aemond, you reach out to push his visor out of his face. “Finally joining the lists today, eh, Aemond? I never thought you were interested in jousting.”

Aemond opens his mouth, but no sound leaves it. Behind you, Aegon raises his eyebrows, giving him a look that says, Say something!

“I…decided to test my skills today,” Aemond manages.

Aegon silently gestures for him to keep going.

“…and I thought your nameday would give me extra luck,” he adds, now feeling the blood rushing to his cheeks.

You laugh, reaching over once again to pat the front of his armor. He wonders if you can feel his heart hammering underneath the cold metal.

Aegon clears his throat, glancing at something behind Aemond; in his periphery, he sees Qoren Martell hovering around the group. Ormund, miraculously, gets the silent message.

“If you would excuse us, Princess,” the Hightower lord says, slapping the back of Aemond’s armor. “As his loyal squire, I have a duty to get Prince Aemond ready.”

You nod in understanding. “I will pray for your opponents,” you say solemnly, and a genuine smile finally breaks out onto his face.

“Will you allow me to escort you back to the King’s Box?” Aegon says in his mocking tone once again, and you wrinkle your nose before dropping your hand into his.

Ormund pushes Aemond in the other direction. “Come now, my Prince,” he says. “You’d better get ready if you want to win the Princess’ favor.”

“I’ve been put in the lower lists,” Aemond reminds him miserably, while keeping his eyes trained on Qoren Martell attempting to strike up a conversation with you.

“What of it?” Ormund scoffs, suddenly sounding confident. “It just means you’ll score more victories. Makes the final one all the more sweet. Just trust your training, and you’ll have Qoren Martell on his fat Dornish ass before you know it.”

It seemingly only takes a split second for all the air to leave Aemond’s lungs when he crashes into the dirt. Though his armor had taken the brunt of his fall, pain shoots all over his body like tendrils of lightning, ironically leaving him feeling momentarily weightless.

He manages to roll onto his back, gasping for air and staring up at the sky above. The ringing in his ears subsides enough for him to hear the triumphant shouts and the shocked gasps of the crowd, as well as the neighing of his distressed horse. He blinks the stars out of his eyes, and after remembering seeing a Bolton squire die from a lance to the throat, he checks himself for any injuries. To his relief, he seemed to be physically fine.

“My Prince! Aemond, cousin!” Suddenly, Ormund was hovering over him, distress and clear fear in his eyes. “Speak to me, are you alright?”

“I’m…” Aemond coughs, feeling his lungs constrict, then relax. “I’m fine.”

A tourney master joins Ormund. “Will you continue with a contest of arms, my Prince?”

Ormund helps Aemond sit up, and he catches a glimpse of his sword lying off to the side. He blinks again, and his vision finally returns to normal; he sees his opponent (who, by the stag on his armor, Aemond surmises is a Baratheon) jumping off his horse and running over to him.

You fool, Aemond wants to shout. If your opponent wished to continue, you might have benefited from the distance.

But he glances over to the King’s Box, where members of his own family were peering over at him, awaiting his decision. His mother leans over the railing the furthest, so much so that her ladies were trying to restrain her.

He does not see you.

Aemond sighs and shakes his head, and the tourney master nods.

“Prince Aemond forfeits! The winner of this round…”

“My Prince!” The Baratheon boy tosses his helmet to the side, sticking his hand out. Aemond clicks his tongue, but accepts the gesture, allowing his opponent to pull him up. “It was an honor to tilt against you, Prince Aemond. I hope to be given the opportunity again.”

Not likely, Aemond wants to snap back. But he only gives the boy a brief smile and a respectful nod, before turning away.

“Do you need help?” Ormund offers.

“No, be quiet, keep walking,” Aemond commands, keeping his head held high. He nods and waves to the crowds shouting out their congratulations to him, deliberately ignoring the pain he was starting to feel in his left leg.

As soon as he was out of both the public and his opponents’ sight, Aemond finally gives in, grabbing the wall for support as he reaches down to tug at his armored leg.

“Aemond!” Ormund throws one of Aemond’s arm over his shoulders. “Sit down, I’ll call the maesters.”

“No, no need,” he hisses in reply. “Just help me get my armor off.”

“But you might have twisted or broken your leg, I—”

“If I had twisted or broken my leg, you’d think I’d bloody well know, wouldn’t I?” Aemond snaps. “You’re my squire, act like it. Just take off the damn armor.”

Ormund blinks. Aemond feels a twinge of regret over the venom in his tone, but elects not to say another word. He instead works on the buckles of the metal, all the while trying to swallow down the growing lump in his throat and blink away the stinging in his eyes. Ormund finally assists him, detaching the parts away and allowing Aemond to stretch his limbs out.

The humiliation weighs over him even as he climbs into the King’s Box. Ser Criston Cole is the first to greet him, and after looking over him to find no serious injuries, pats Aemond’s shoulders. “You did very well, my Prince,” Criston assures him. “Don’t lose heart. You’ll get your chance one day.”

Aemond offers him the same tight-lipped smile he’d given his opponent, and keeps it on as his mother hurries over, worry painted all over her face.

“Are you alright?” she fusses, pushing his hair out of his eyes, looking as if she was about to demand he remove all his clothes in front of all who were present. “The lance—I thought it went through—”

“His armor took the blow, Your Grace,” Ser Criston says. “The Baratheon squire’s lance splintered against it, yes, but there’s no harm to him as far as I can see.”

A Baratheon squire. Aemond’s jaw locks in anger; he, a Prince of the realm, had lost to a Baratheon squire of all people.

Alicent sighs. “You scared me, deciding to enter the lists out of nowhere. Perhaps you should wait until you’re a little older before—”

“Why did you place me further down the lists?” Aemond hisses, keeping his voice as low as possible (but failing to contain the anger in it).

Alicent frowns. “What?”

“I was supposed to tilt against the likes of Qoren Martell,” Aemond whispers furiously. “I am the son of the King, in line to the throne, brother to the Princess to whom this tourney is dedicated to! Why wasn’t I placed where I was originally supposed to be?”

“I am not liking your tone, Aemond,” Alicent warns. “Remember that you are not of age yet. This is a vile, cruel game where men attempt to kill each other for sport. Be grateful that you were even allowed at all to compete.”

Aemond opens his mouth to protest, but Alicent gives him a look so scathing, whatever argument he had promptly died in his throat. He grunts in displeasure and pushes past her, ignoring his father's Council members congratulating him as he goes.

He finds his seat regrettably next to Aegon, who at the sight of him, bursts into uncontrollable laughter. Aemond surges forward, only to be stopped by Rhaenyra's outstretched arm.

"You did well, little brother," she says, though all Aemond hears is the underlying distaste that she seems to reserve solely for him, Aegon, and Alicent. "But settle your scores with Aegon later. I'd rather not ruin my sister's day with any of your antics."

Aemond removes her arm from his path, sauntering forward and dropping into his seat, taking care to crush Aegon's foot underneath his. A heavy hand finds its way onto his shoulder, and he turns to find its owner, a scowl on his face ready to greet them—

"Well done, my boy," Viserys says, a smile on his lined face. "Next time, you'll win. I know it."

One could almost take your words for affection, old man, Aemond thinks, as Viserys pats his shoulder again before settling back in his seat. Still, he manages a polite, "Thank you, Father," before turning back to the tourney still playing out beneath him.

It takes a while for him to realize that you were sitting right across him, already turned to face him with your signature blinding smile. You reach out to pat his interlocked hands. "Father's right," you tell him. "You'll win next time. If you focus on your training."

"I will if you will," he blurts, before he could stop himself.

"Ha! I feel I'm much better at riding a dragon than wielding a sword."

The moment is shattered when Lucerys (who Aemond just realized had been sitting on your lap the entire time) begins to wave your wreath around wildly, causing you to turn away from Aemond to keep your nephew from falling to the ground.

He watches as, to nobody's surprise, Qoren Martell wins the tourney. The Dornish Prince urges his horse forward towards the King's Box, and asks for your favor. Rhaenyra nudges Ser Laenor, the two sharing knowing glances as you stand with Lucerys in your arms and balanced on your hip, instructing the boy to toss your crown of red and black roses into Qoren's hands, much to the delight of the spectators.

In that moment, Lucerys’ curly brown locks no longer suspiciously remind Aemond of the Commander of the City Watch standing right next to Ser Laenor, but of the man staring adoringly from below as you and Lucerys wave to the crowds.

Aemond stands, mumbling an excuse in his brother's ear, and leaves the Box in a hurry.

Having to watch as Viserys deliberately has Qoren sit next to you during your own nameday feast had irritated Aemond beyond measure, given that he could do nothing but pick furiously at his own food as Qoren regales you with tales of his House and region. It had seemed like forever before the King had finally gone to bed, and even then his torture ended bitterly with Qoren bringing your hand to his lips.

Rhoynar scum. He scowls as he slams the door behind him. Your lot come from vagabonds at sea with no real homes. Our blood is the blood of Old Valyria, the blood of kings and conquerors and warriors. She rides the Good Queen’s dragon. What in the Seven Hells could ever possess you to think you could have her?

Aemond opens the window to his room, allowing the cool breeze of the Red Keep to wash over his agitated figure. Aegon’s teasing, Ormund’s obliviousness, and Qoren’s audacity had given him a migraine like he’d never had before, yet he could not find it in himself to sleep it off.

Of course he was fond of you, that much was certain. He’d always looked up to you, asked for your advice, took great comfort in the fact that your dragon had not been born to you either. It had always been his crutch for when he laments his lack of a dragon, what with Sunfyre hatching in Aegon’s cradle and Helaena claiming Dreamfyre shortly before her tenth nameday. Ultimately, though, Aemond supposes he hadn’t much to go on about you other than the fact that you took the time to get to know your half-siblings, unlike your actual full-blood sister.

He’d mulled over the idea of claiming Vermithor, who at this point was the only known dragon that had yet to be claimed after the death of Jaehaerys. He would imagine himself flying alongside the Good Queen’s dragon atop the Good King’s, and what a poetic ending that would be for all his troubles.

A knock comes at his door. “My Prince, I apologize for the late hour,” one of his servants calls out to him. “Princess [Y/N] is here to see you.”

Aemond’s head whips around. “Send her in,” he replies almost immediately.

The door swings open to reveal you, still in the same dress he’d seen you in that morning, the only difference being your hair now let down; a silvery waterfall, not unlike his own.

He turns to face you, heart hammering in his chest.. “What…what do you want?”

“I came to check on you,” you reply. “You fell hard earlier, I didn’t get a chance to check how bad it was.”

Aemond chuckles dryly and gestures for you to sit. “ “How bad it was”, huh?”

“Our family is more than fond of tourneys,” you remind him. “We’re just about the only ones that are not. I would be lying if I said I was not surprised that you changed your mind today.”

“I’ve not changed my mind.” Aemond picks at his sleeve. “I don’t give a shit about tourneys. Never have and never will.”

You laugh, and though it is a quiet sound, he tries to fool himself into thinking it’s more genuine than the ones you’d shared with Qoren. “I’m glad to hear it.”

He sits there with you in silence, and for the first time all day, he relaxes. It’s nice, he thinks, to simply be in your presence, where no one—not even himself—expects him to do something to impress you.

Being with you was enough.

That said, the thought of you leaving for Dorne forever leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Namedays are always a time for celebration,” you begin. “I confess, however, that my nameday…always comes with a tinge of sorrow.

“I went to the Sept with Rhaenyra this morning. It’s always been a habit of ours on our namedays. It’s really less of us praying to the Seven for good fortune, it’s more of…finding comfort in the silence. It…it’s where we hear our mother and siblings the best.”

He nods in understanding.

You tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, staring off into the distance wistfully. “Father’s always been good at putting on a mask,” you continue. “He’s good at it, too, probably from all the years he’s had to do it. But today would have been Baelon’s nameday, too. And today was also the day when Mother…”

You duck your head.

Aemond leans forward to capture your hands in his. Despite his own misgivings with Aegon, he had to admit that it was difficult to imagine a life without him. He would have been the heir, forever put against Rhaenyra. Forever put against you, one of the few of her true kin.

You squeeze his hands gratefully. “In any case,” you say. “I am glad you’re no longer interested in tourneys, otherwise I would not have brought you this.”

You produce a box from the depths of your skirt and slide it over to Aemond. He clicks his tongue in mock disapproval. “It’s your nameday and you’re the one giving out gifts.”

You wave your hand dismissively. “I have a whole mountain of them in my apartments, very few of which I would actually care to have. I take far more pleasure giving things to you.”

Aemond shakes his head, finally relenting and opening the box. Glittering among the plush dark velvet was a sapphire brooch, as blue as the waters of the Narrow Sea, sitting in a bed of pure starlight. He lifts it from the cushion and sits the gem in his palm gingerly, admiring its weight and the way it glints, even by the dying fireplace.

“The sapphire was my mother’s,” you explain. “One of many I’d inherited from her. I had it re-cut and set.”

Aemond swallows thickly. “I…I can’t take this. If it was from your mother, then you should—”

You interrupt him by closing his fist over the jewel, holding his fingers down with a firm grip. “I want you to have it,” you tell him firmly. “We are one House now, no matter what others say. None may divide us. Keep this with you as a reminder, you hear me?”

You stare at him with such intensity that he has little to do but agree. You pat his hand and rise from your seat. “Think of it as my favor,” you say, and he doesn’t miss the slyness in your tone. “You have no need to fight in tourneys or any sort of battle to earn it. It will always be yours, Aemond.”

Words he’d been keeping buried for months were bubbling on his tongue now, tearing down the walls that he’s had to construct all his life to keep them from destroying what he has with you. Resistance seemed futile now, now that you had bid him goodnight and turned to leave his room.

“Don’t marry him.”

Your hand had been on the door at his words, and you do him the considerable honor of pausing in surprise before turning again to look at him. “Aemond?”

“Don’t marry him,” he repeats, desperation now leaking into his tone. “Qoren Martell. You were never meant to marry a Dornish, even the first of them, so…”

He wrestles with his words, and you seem oblivious to his agony as you stare, clearly waiting for him to finish. He inches closer and closer to the brink, and there seems to be nothing tethering him to reality anymore, save for the erratic beating of his heart.

You purse your lips, and the expression on your face is something he can’t read—did you think him foolish for telling you not to do your duty? Or did you perceive his desperation as an act of childish jealousy, a brother imploring his sister not to give anyone else the time of day?

What did he think his words meant?

You do not give him an answer. “Good night, Aemond,” you whisper, and you slip quietly out the door.

Your betrothal to the heir to the Dornish throne had begun to sound less like a rumor and more like a given fact, with the endless whisperings fluttering about the Red Keep like irksome flies. Viserys certainly did not do much to silence them, and Aemond had the misfortune of hearing him discuss potential dowries with Rhaenyra.

He had to admit that it was an ideal match, and certainly one he would have considered seriously were he in his father’s place. Any king who would bring Dorne into the fold would be credited with something even the Conqueror could not have done, further cementing his place in Westerosi history. Aemond often dreams of having his name written down in the history books, never just as an afterthought or a simple second son, but of a warrior king who made the Seven Kingdoms truly one, with a queen by his side who would cast a shadow over all who would succeed her.

But like his position in life, all his dreams had to occur in the darkness of the wings; the only good thing about it was that, given their unlikeliness, he was free to dream just a little bit more.

In a surprising turn of events, however, he’d received the news that you had suddenly mounted Silverwing and taken off. At that moment, Aemond truly curses the lack of a dragon—he could have just gotten on and tracked you down, not go through the humiliation of asking Aegon (or any of his kin, for that matter) for a favor. He would have had to explain why it was so important for them to take time out of their day to find out where you had gone, because beyond you being a Princess of the realm, he had no other reason (that he’s willing to admit, at least).

Even Helaena, whom Aemond had realized could see things before they happened, offered no help in this matter. She had even expressed confusion at the very notion, much to his frustration.

So, he turns to his last resort.

Jacaerys looks up from where he was cleaning his armor, clearly surprised to be addressed. “She isn’t at Dragonstone,” he tells Aemond. “She could be anywhere, for all we know.”

“She didn’t tell you anything?” Aemond presses. “No notes, anything?”

Lucerys fiddles with Aemond’s gauntlets, and for a brief moment, Aemond sees you in his little face. “I think she’s gone to Daemon.”

“Prince Daemon? Why would she…”

“It’s just a guess,” Jacaerys says, scratching the back of his neck. “The last we heard of him was that he was in Pentos with the Lady Laena. They’re our only kin living beyond Westeros, and [Y/N] was always fond of Lady Laena.”

Of course. Aemond wants to smack his forehead. It made sense. You, Rhaenyra, and Laena had always been so close. But it wouldn’t have been his first guess, not when a marriage proposal didn’t seem too far behind…

Jacaerys’ and Lucerys’ guess seems to hold merit, as the small council receives reports of a silvery dragon flying east. It’s only confirmed when you finally write to your family, stating that you were indeed exploring the Free Cities and would be staying there for an indefinite period of time.

Funnily enough, your message had arrived at the Red Keep the same day the Dornish party did.

The excuse given had been that you were sent off as an envoy to the southern Free Cities to ascertain the peace, following the Triarchy’s defeat at the hands of the Daemon-Velaryon alliance. Aemond had to restrain himself from laughing in the throne room at the Dornish lord’s baffled expression, as well as the irritation that Viserys had kept well-hidden beneath his kingly persona.

That same night, he’d received a raven from you, carrying a brief message and a couple of trinkets you had collected on your travels thus far. It had been as if a giant weight had been taken off his shoulders, and in the privacy of his own room, he finds himself running his fingers longingly over your handwriting.

But your letters begin to stack on his desk, the gifts you bring him start to collect dust on his mantle, and every day holds less and less promise of you finally returning to King’s Landing. He’d thought you would finally return shortly after Rhaenyra gives birth to her third son, but aside from a written note of congratulations and a messenger bringing gifts, you never do. Aemond finds himself sitting by his window every night, deluding himself into thinking a bird flying over Blackwater Bay or the occasional cloud would be Silverwing, bringing you back to him.

But you don’t, and he finds solace only in his lessons and his training, stealing glances at the sky whenever he has the chance. He’d thought your absence would finally rid him of thoughts and desires unwanted, but all it is is a thorn in his side; a dull ache that flares up every now and then, much like his old leg injury.

When news of Laena Velaryon’s death reaches King’s Landing, and as he sits next to his mother on the ship, his thoughts were only of you, and if you had already been in Driftmark for a while now. He should have known better when he sees no silver dragon sitting amongst the gold, blue, grey, and red amongst the rocks.

After giving his condolences to the Velaryons, Aemond walks around aimlessly, the disappointment sinking in with every passing second. Politicking thinly veiled as courtesies seem to follow him everywhere he goes, and he eventually finds respite in Helaena’s presence, though it would seem she had not noticed his.

Of course, Aegon had to come and disturb it, only to repeat what he had been complaining about for weeks.

“We have nothing in common,” he grumbles, gesturing to Helaena.

“She’s our sister,” Aemond replies curtly, as he has done many times before.

“You marry her, then.”

“I would perform my duty, if mother had only betrothed us.” The words weigh heavily on Aemond’s tongue.

Aegon scoffs. “If only.”

“It would strengthen the family,” Aemond parrots what he’s learned in his lessons. “Keep our Valyrian blood pure.”

“She’s an idiot!”

“She’s your future Queen.”

Aegon lowers his goblet, and from his periphery, Aemond can see his brother watching him carefully. He keeps his gaze on Helaena muttering under her breath, waiting for Aegon to call him out for the double meaning in his words.

Fortunately, he doesn’t. “We actually do have one thing in common,” Aegon says, as he throws the rest of his drink back and reaches for the next, his eyes lingering far too long on the serving girl. “We both fancy creatures with very long legs.”

Aemond only shakes his head in resignation, feeling a surge of pity for Helaena. It’s the first time he actually feels relieved that you had left before you’d gotten any offers of marriage; he dreads the thought of you being doomed to suffer the same fate as Helaena.

A dragon’s cry pierces the air, and Aemond looks up sharply. He rushes to the edge of the courtyard, listening as best as he could with the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks below.

He scours the skies and searches among the dragons already resting nearby, to no avail. His shoulders sag; perhaps you weren’t coming, after all.

But that same cry persists, even as the sun begins to sink into the sea. Aemond has never heard a sound like it before—this one was a melancholic melody, like longingness taking flight above the waters of The Gullet. It isn’t long before his attention is drawn from searching for you to searching for the source of the sound instead, somehow feeling as if it was calling out to him.

And then it happens.

A clear and piercing trill that he initially chalks up to one of the other dragons, had it not been for Rhaenyra looking up, surprise painted all over her face. Aemond follows her gaze, and even in the setting sun, it’s clear as day—

He momentarily forgets himself and runs over to his half-sister, tugging on her sleeve. “It’s her, isn’t it?” he asks, unable to contain his excitement.

“It is,” Rhaenyra replies, pure relief in her tone. She glances down at Aemond, and it’s perhaps only then does she realize the peculiarity of the situation; he doesn’t remember the last time he’s ever had a casual conversation with her. Aemond lets go of her sleeve, clearing his throat and taking off in the other direction with his head spinning.

It takes a while for you to show up, but when you do, you’re soaked to the bone, with Laenor Velaryon’s arm wrapped around your shoulders and his other arm around his squire on the other side. The whispers come to a standstill, partially at the sight of you and partially at the sight of the future Prince consort looking as if he was about to follow his sister at any second. You must have found him, Aemond thinks, about to keel over into the water.

At the sight of his father, however, Ser Laenor steadies himself and limps away, leaving you in the middle of the crowd. No doubt you feel all eyes on you, but you straighten and walk to your father, who now looks as if he’s ten years younger again.

Aemond doesn’t get the chance to speak with you, not while you remain glued to Viserys’ side, leaving only to speak with Rhaenyra, Daemon, and his daughters. You’ve not changed at all over the years, save for your hair, which you had cropped short (presumably for it to not get in the way of your flying), and for your gait, as a certain confidence exudes from you as you walk or simply stand. But you were still you, much to his relief.

His thoughts take him back to the strange cry, which rings out well into the night. It’s only until his mother commands him to go to bed that he realizes Viserys has long left and you are nowhere to be found. He waits for his mother and siblings to head into the castle before heading down the stairs, down where you had come bringing your good brother.

He doesn’t have to search long for you—you’re right there on the beach, your head tilted upwards as if in silent meditation. The sand crunches underneath his feet as he closes the distance between you two, and just as you’re within arm’s reach, he stops.

And he waits.

When you finally turn, you regard Aemond with the same smile that had greeted him on your nameday all those years ago, tinged with just a bit of sadness. He wonders if you get your seemingly eternal warmth from the late queen; whatever the case, he certainly has never felt it with any of his siblings, even the one you share all your blood with.

“You’ve gotten tall,” is the first thing you say to him. “You’ll probably be as tall as Daemon.”

“I’ll be taller,” he promises, and your smile grows wider, only for it to drop just as quickly. Aemond remembers the very reason you had come, and the history you shared with Laena. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

You turn back towards the beach, and Aemond moves to stand next to you. “It is our loss,” you correct him. “Laena was kin to you and me both.”

Aemond nods in response. You duck your head and sigh deeply, the grief you feel leaving you looking aged. “I left Pentos the day before she died,” you whisper. “I promised to be back for the birth, but…”

“They say she went into labor early,” Aemond says. “You couldn’t have known.”

You keep your eyes trained on the ground. “I don’t think I could have borne to see it,” you continue in a shaky voice. “She died trying to birth a son, and my mother—”

You choke on the last word, and for a moment Aemond fears you would start crying. He reaches for your hand, and you squeeze it gratefully in response.

But you don’t, and instead take the time to be silent and count your breaths, all the while holding onto his hand like an anchor. When you raise your eyes to the sky once more, he sees all the stars reflected in them.

When you speak again, your voice is steadier. “You remind me of her, you know. Laena.”

Aemond struggles to find an answer, one that would insult neither you nor the deceased. You seem to sense his hesitation, and you squeeze his hand again. “Our dragons weren’t born to us,” you say, confirming his thoughts. “Though I became a dragonrider earlier than she did. She cried the first time I mounted Silverwing, and cried again when I took her up years later.”

“The second time…out of fear?”

“At first, I suppose. But she was laughing, too. Always a wild one, Laena was.” You sigh. “You’re just as spirited as she was. Fearless. Bold.”

“If I were fearless and bold, I’d have a dragon by now,” Aemond grumbles.

“It isn’t that easy, I fear,” you tell him. “I’ve spoken to scholars and warlocks and magicfolk of all kinds in the Free Cities. Some of them are of the opinion that dragons are not as willing as we might imagine.”

“We’re a family of dragonriders. One dragon-less member is hardly enough to discredit that fact.”

“Our Valyrian blood is the exception, not the rule. Had we been so confident in its mere presence, I daresay we ought to have more dragonriders around.”

“Especially with Aegon,” Aemond offers.

“Especially with Aegon, yes,” you chuckle. “It may well be that our blood is a contributing factor. But dragons have minds and hearts of their own. Some say they are even more intelligent than we are. The right is not freely given, Aemond. It is earned, it is fought for, it is taken.”

You turn to face him then, and it’s only when you do so does Aemond realize he has indeed grown taller; he no longer has to tilt his head upwards to properly meet your eyes. You take his other hand in yours, and he feels the calluses from years of dragon-riding brush against his skin.

“I told you you were as spirited as Laena was,” you say. “Like her, you are also kind. Compassionate. Smart. Loyal. You are everything our House stands for and more.”

For the first time in what seems like years, a genuine smile spreads across his face. “I’ve missed you,” he admits.

“As did I,” you whisper, and your eyes travel to the sapphire brooch you’d given him all those years ago, nestled just above the middle of his collarbone. You let your fingers skim over the gem lightly, before pulling away from him. “Father has mentioned that we may stop by Dragonstone to see if any of the eggs there take your fancy.”

Aemond’s spirits rise. “Really?”

“Really,” you promise. “If nothing does, Rhaenyra’s told me that if Syrax brings forth another clutch of eggs, you’ll have your pick from them.”

He lets out a breathy laugh; he could think of Rhaenyra’s sudden act of kindness as a way to win him over to her favor, but surely Viserys had agreed to the Dragonstone visit only upon your request. He had never been known to turn you down, and the impromptu visit to the Free Cities was clear proof of it.

To think, you had talked him into it for Aemond’s benefit…

He shakes his head, almost in disbelief. “Wait. You said “we”. You’re coming home? You’re coming with me to Dragonstone to pick an egg?”

You give him another one of your comforting smiles. “If you’d like.”

He nods, almost too quickly. He’d come to Driftmark expecting to have the secondhand grief hanging over him like a storm, not to feel as if he’d been denied the sun for years before this very moment. He imagines walking off a ship onto Dragonstone and leaving atop Vermithor, as he’s always thought of doing. He replays a scene from his dreams where he finally flies next to you, the Good King and the Good Queen’s mounts flying over the realm once more.

He’s almost too happy to notice you’d reached out to brush his hair away from his face. “You might take a little inspiration from Laena,” you advise him. “She was dragonless for years, and yet she did what many thought was impossible.”

“She claimed Vhagar,” Aemond says, his mouth suddenly feeling dry.

“She certainly did.” You squeeze his hands before slipping out of them. “Now, go to bed. Your mother will have my head if she finds out I caught you after dark and did nothing.”

The same cry pierces through the night sky again, and Aemond watches as you head back up to the castle. He wants to call out to you again, to tell you what he’s been hearing all day, to confirm something that had clicked at your words just now.

Aemond stares across the sea, in deep thought.

The right is not freely given.

He turns to the west, to the source of the strange cry.

It is earned, it is fought for, it is taken.

He begins walking.

“It will heal,” Alicent frets. “Will it not, maester?”

Aemond winces as the needle pierces his flesh, dreading the answer; but even with one eye, he sees it on the maester’s face as clear as if he had both.

Alicent audibly sobs at the revelation, and Aemond isn’t sure if his feeling light-headed was due to the blood loss, the pain from the little scuffle he’d gotten into earlier, or just remnants of his encounter with Vhagar. He tries to link it to the last factor; it was the only good thing he got out of the entire ordeal.

He’s no stranger to dragon-riding, as you’ve taken him up on Silverwing many times before. But to be completely alone, to hold the reins and be solely responsible for directing the flight, to ride the largest dragon in the world, a Conqueror’s dragon—

Something flutters in his periphery, and Aemond turns his face to see you, still in your nightclothes. He opens his mouth, about to call out for you, knowing that surely you of all people would rejoice at the news…

But he watches as you rush past everyone else to where Lucerys was, his face still bloody and nose crooked from where Aemond had punched him. Lucerys cries out when you attempt to set his nose, and you shush him comfortingly, kissing the top of his head before checking on Jacaerys.

What little happiness left in Aemond ebbs away as Rhaenyra calls for him to be “sharply” questioned, as Viserys demands he reveals where he heard the rumors over Rhaenyra’s sons parentage, as Alicent loses her patience and attempts to exert justice on his behalf by force. All those he could have lived with…if not for you standing behind Rhaenyra quietly, moving only to shield Jacaerys and Lucerys from Alicent. If not for you barely even sparing him a glance.

When he tells his mother an eye was a fair trade for a dragon, he means it.

But when he thinks about you as part of the price, he's not as certain.

"Be calm, Vhagar," Aemond instructs the great beast. He tries to climb the ropes, as he had the night before, but Vhagar continues to squirm.

He sighs, trying to focus. Walking was already disorienting enough on its own, but flying with a limited depth of perception was another matter entirely. But Aemond's no stranger to challenges—this is just another he has to conquer.

"Obey, Vhagar," he reminds the dragon. "Serve me."

"She feels your pain," someone tells him, in the same tongue.

Aemond grips his ropes tightly, his jaw tightening as he tries to maintain his composure. He turns in the direction of his good eye, and when he finds no one, he lets go of the ropes to turn the other way around. Sure enough, you were there, in full riding gear.

He'd forgotten that he was supposed to stop by Dragonstone to pick an egg. And he'd forgotten that that was probably the only reason you had to return to King's Landing.

Now, perhaps, he's left you with no other choice but to remain on Driftmark, as Rhaenyra and her family did. Worse, you'd probably go back and dig up your own potential match to Qoren Martell.

Funnily enough, though, the thought didn't stress him out as it used to.

"Dragons and their riders share a special bond," you continue. High Valyrian was the most beautiful language to ever exist, and even with all things considered, Aemond still thinks it's at its best when he hears it from you. "What you feel, they feel. Your friends are theirs, and your enemies, they will endeavor to crush."

"You say it like it's a bad thing," he says.

"I say it as a warning," you reply. "You must keep your emotions in check if you want to have a safe flight, without any dire consequences."

Aemond laughs humorlessly. " "Keeping emotions in check"? Is that what you did last night?"

You frown. "You don’t understand."

"I lost my eye," Aemond hisses, pointing to the bandaged side of his face. "On account of that bastard."

"Aemond.”

"You were supposed to be on my side!" He's raising his voice now, and Vhagar shakes her head in agitation. "You understood me better than anyone, you know the truth about our nephews, you were supposed to stand aside and let my mother seek justice!"

"They are our blood, regardless," you remind him gently. "We protect our own."

He stomps in frustration. "You were supposed to be happy for me," he snarls. "I have a dragon now, and all of those warlock shits that you spoke to were all wrong. I proved them wrong."

"Yes, you did," you tell him, and it takes everything in him not to pull his hair out over your patience. "But I hope you know that having one does not change who we are. Dragon or no dragon, you are still you. Still Aemond."

His fury threatens to boil over. "Go away."

"I want to help you, Aemond," you coax. "You've gotten past the first ride, yes, but with one eye, you're going into unknown territory. You will need a new saddle, too. There's still so much I can teach you."

"Go away!" he screams, running forward just to push you away. "I don't need you! Don't come near me, don't ever presume to speak my name, and don't you ever come home!"

Perhaps it had been a trick of the light, but he thinks he sees you flinch. Whatever it is, you try to maintain your composure. "You don't mean that, Aemond."

"I do," he insists, turning and hauling himself up the ropes. "I hate you. Go away."

It takes nearly forever before he finally reaches the saddle. The view from atop Vhagar with one eye certainly was disorienting, but not as bad as he'd originally thought. He looks up to see Sunfyre and Dreamfyre already up in the air, and he gains a sense of pride; he would be flying back to King's Landing with his trueborn siblings.

Out of habit, he tries to ascertain where you were. He deduces you had left just as he'd demanded you to, but pushes the guilt down to focus.

"Obey me, Vhagar," he shouts over the wind. "Fly!"

The dragon rumbles in response, and Aemond holds on tightly as Vhagar makes her way towards the edge of the cliff, before spreading her wings and taking flight. The short drop makes his stomach flutter delightfully, and he tugs on the reins to pull her higher into the sky.

He drinks in the feeling of seeing Aegon and Helaena on either side of him, and even dips Vhagar to greet his mother watching atop the same ship he'd arrived at Driftmark on.

When he finally gets the nerve to look back, Driftmark continues to disappear into the distance, but he can barely make out a familiar figure flying east.

He turns his attention back forward, thinking of nothing but the breeze in his hair and the sun washing over his skin.

The morningstar swings idly at Criston's side as he and Aemond circle each other, like mountain lions about to pounce at any given moment. Aemond twirls his sword in his hand, scanning his opponent from head to toe and watching his every move.

When Criston swings, Aemond dodges, immediately understanding what fight pattern his teacher was about to go for after years of experience. The crowd around him grows, the whispers now starting to irritate him, but he remains calm and collected.

The morningstar comes down on Aemond's other side, and he moves; he treats it as a dance, and the weapon an overeager partner (gods know how many Aemond's had to deal with at feasts).

Criston smirks, but Aemond can tell he's running out of steam. "Shall we have a respite, old man?" he teases.

His teacher opens his mouth to retort, but he's interrupted by a guard by the nearest watchtower.

"Dragon!"

Aemond looks up in confusion. All dragons go straight to the Dragonpit, he thinks. Why would they warn of a dragon, unless…

A high trilling sound, louder than what was normally heard so deep into the Red Keep, causes everyone within the vicinity to look around. Aemond's fingers slacken around his sword—he knows that call.

Silverwing soars into the courtyard, circling the area thrice before Aemond realizes she was trying to land.

"Clear the way!" His voice booms across the yard, and servants, nobles, and guards alike frantically move to open up a space for the dragon to land.

However, it did not seem to be what the silver mount had in mind; gasps ranging from those of shock to wonder echo throughout the Red Keep when you land your dragon atop the very gate, causing those on the watchtowers on either side of you to cry out in fear.

Aemond shakes his head in disbelief, watching in a near-trance as Silverwing dips down to allow you to dismount carefully. The years melt away as you walk over to where he and Criston were training, completely ignoring the stares you were receiving.

"Princess," Criston says, bowing deeply. "You know dragons aren't allowed this deep into the Red Keep."

"Really?" you ask, raising your eyebrows. "There are a whole score of them here, so I did not think it any harm to add one more."

Criston laughs, a short but genuine sound. "Welcome home, Princess."

You nod your head in response, before turning to Aemond. He remembers the last words he spoke to you as if he'd just said them yesterday, and not all those years ago. He remembers panicking after you never indeed come home, opting to resume your travels across the Free Cities.

He remembers spending six years trying to come to terms with the fact that he might never see you again.

What does he even say, now that you've proved him wrong?

Thankfully, you relieve him of that burden. "Brother," you greet amicably.

He opens and closes his mouth like a fish, trying (and failing) to piece together a sentence. Criston shoots him a sideways glance.

Aemond eventually settles for a nod, before his sword slides out of his grasp.

You look like you're about to burst into laughter.

"I hope he's better with a sword than he is with women, Ser Criston," you say wryly, before heading into the castle.

As soon as you've disappeared, Criston turns to Aemond, a single eyebrow raised.

"Be quiet," Aemond mumbles as he reaches for his sword.

Aemond doesn’t mull over the potential reasons for your arrival long, as the answer comes to him by the news that you have not left Viserys’ bedside all day, even to eat. He leaves you to it, equally because the incense in his father’s room lingers about him for hours, and equally because he has nothing to say to you.

But whatever your intentions were, they immediately took second place in favor of the news that the Sea Snake had suffered a mortal wound while fighting in the Stepstones, leaving the succession of Driftmark in doubt. Rhaenyra, along with her now-husband Daemon, all but materialize into the Red Keep, no doubt to secure Lucerys’ claim.

Aemond next sees you on the day all claims to the Driftwood Throne were made, just before the entire court had begun to settle in. In a brief stroke of madness, he makes his way over to where you were, drinking in your startled expression before changing course towards Rhaenyra and her sons. He gives them the usual courtesies, much to their bewilderment, and even strikes up a conversation with Jacaerys over their encounter in the courtyard, where he was training. His good eye flickers over to you, silently bidding you watch as he walks over to Daemon.

To his great satisfaction, he’s a couple of inches taller.

Aemond could have sworn he saw you smile.

It does occur to him that perhaps you have come to fulfill your father’s wishes and to marry at last, now that Viserys is on the brink of death and the succession (in Aemond’s mind, at least) remains unclear.

No doubt that thought weighs heavily on Alicent’s mind, also, given that she’s let slip a couple of times that she’d wished for you to marry one of Vaemond Velaryon’s sons. But that plan died on the floor of the throne room along with Vaemond himself, who destroyed his ambition by letting his pride get the best of him.

Through you, any House would have closer ties to the throne, and the various other lineages you’ve been linked to. That House would also be bound to whichever party secured that pact for, and all their strength and swords would be theirs.

Perhaps you’d be wed to Joffrey. No doubt that would keep you on Rhaenyra’s side forever, had you not already declared for her in all but writing. Qoren Martell was no longer a viable option, given that he’d taken your absence as an insult and married some other noble lady. Had Borros Baratheon not already married, you’d probably be his, owing to his House having hosted you in your youth. Cregan Stark. Whomever at the Vale had the claim after Jeyne Arryn. Some old and balding Riverlands lord.

But Aemond has a better idea.

Your serving girl answers the door, and her eyes widen at the sight of Aemond looming over her.

“Is the Princess still awake?” he asks quietly.

The serving girl swallows. “She is, my Prince, but…”

“I thank you in advance for your discretion,” he interrupts, reaching over to place a bag of gold dragons in her hand. Bribery was the oldest trick in the book, and yet it was always Aemond’s last resort; so many things, even principles and skills that people spend their whole life trying to cling to, could be traded at the mere sight of a gold dragon.

To the girl’s credit, she seems to struggle over the dilemma, and Aemond owes it to her to give her a moment. When she purses her lips and turns away, he steps back in victory.

The few times he’s entered your apartments, it’s always empty, on account of you being somewhere else. He’s never had a reason to stay long, if only to bask in the ambience of a room you’d spend a lot of your time in, before turning to other matters that require his attention.

Now that you’re there, however, he realizes it does not differ much from his own apartments. The same layout, but a different air about it. Less cold. More you.

Aemond waits for the serving girl to close the door behind her, and he keeps a respectful distance from your bed, allowing you some time to make yourself presentable.

“The hour is quite late, brother,” comes your tired tone.

“My apologies, sweet sister,” he says, walking forward. “I had to see you.”

You were indeed already in bed, putting a book aside when he stands at the edge. You regard him carefully, clearly wondering about the purpose of his visit, before you sigh and move to throw the covers off yourself.

He holds up a hand. “Please.”

“I cannot see you in this light,” you reason.

“Then allow me.”

Aemond takes the box of matches from you, moving about the room to light the candles. The room glows brighter, allowing him to see the shift you had put on for bed. Your silver hair hangs about you like spun moonlight, and he has to fight the urge to reach out and touch it.

“To what do I owe this late-night visit, then?”

Aemond sets the matchbox down, before turning to you. “I apologize, again,” he says. “I was not certain you’d stay in the Red Keep for long.”

“And why is that, do you think?”

“I regret I do not have the answer. You’ve never really explained the reasons behind your frequent absences from court.”

His direct tone surprises you, and he sees it in your face. But gone are the days where he stumbles over his words, cherry-picks through them to find the ones that would please you the most.

The boy you knew died the night his eye had been taken. And he wants to prove it to you.

“You think your little stunt this evening will not change anything?”

A smirk threatens to play on his lips. “Call it what you will, I was simply expressing how proud I am of my family.”

“Clearly, pride comes in the form of insulting your nephews’ parentage,” you shoot back.

“Is that why you’re contemplating leaving again? Leaving Father to succumb to his wounds alone over the truth?”

He’s never seen you this angry before; you were always the most patient sibling. “Did you come here to try and elicit some anger from me? Was your intention to alienate the only friend you have at court?”

His jaw clenches. “I am the Prince. I have no shortage of friends.”

You scoff. “With that tongue of yours, I am sure that’s true.”

“If you would like to bring my tongue into this matter, I can talk of more than just friends.”

“Your nocturnal activities mean little to me, Aemond,” you say, your tone getting fiercer and fiercer with every word. “If you mean to brag about your conquests, I suggest going to your brother instead of me. Now, if there is nothing else—”

“Why do you refuse to marry?”

Now that catches you off-guard. You look up at Aemond questioningly, but he stands his ground. He will not repeat it. He knows you have heard.

“I—I hardly think any of my decisions should matter—”

“But they do,” Aemond interrupts, moving forward to sit at the edge of your bed. “Had Father been anyone but who he is, you would have long been married by now, with children. Your husband and children would have been Rhaenyra’s, if you insisted on backing her claim. You know the benefits, and yet you refused. Why is that?”

You sigh, fidgeting with the covers uncomfortably. “I do not expect a man, even you, dear brother, to understand.”

“I’m smart. Try me.”

You give him a look so scathing, that if he were a lesser man, he would have backed down immediately. But the fire in your eyes sets his blood aflame, and he wants nothing more than to stoke them.

“My mother died attempting to give Father a male heir,” you say. “Laena gave her life for a son that did not live and wanted to ride Vhagar before she bled out. Helaena has to bear children for a philandering, drunken husband who shares her bed only when he’s out of whores to fuck. Rhaenyra dedicates her life to a realm who will not accept her because she has a mind of her own and not a cock between her legs. History will not give you women that are as miserable as the ones in our family.”

“And yet, you run from your duty to save your own skin.”

You elect not to respond to that.

Aemond sighs. “Qoren Martell would have cherished you. He said he’d wait forever for you.”

“If “forever” meant half a year, certainly,” you mumble. “I have no desire to marry, Aemond. No one expects me to be Queen, nor would my children ever come close to the throne. My only regret is that I never told my father the truth when he was still sound of mind.”

Aemond remains silent, letting your words sink in, while wrestling with his own. You lean forward, letting the covers fall to expose your skin. His eye widens at the sight, and he swallows thickly as you reach for his hand. As your fingers close around his, he has to wonder: were they always this small?

Against his will, his body turns towards you, and he shuffles up your bed so you don’t have to reach that far to touch him. With your other hand, you cup the side of his face, and he briefly flinches when you gingerly brush the pads of your fingers against his scar.

“May I?” you whisper.

He was never one to refuse you.

He keeps his one eye closed as the eyepatch leaves his skin, and is replaced by your curious fingers. He hears you suck in a breath.

He opens his eye to see you regarding the sapphire, your gift to him all those years ago, with a strange sort of reverence (despite the playful jab he had offered). He knows you’ve already seen his missing eye at its worst: swollen shut and stitches marring his face. Now, the scar has healed but not quite disappeared; Lucerys Velaryon had made his mark on Aemond forever.

He’s taken to putting jewels where his eye used to be so as not to scare the ladies at court, but he finds your sapphire fits the best, ironically. The parallels to his father's eye, gouged out by his illness and eaten through by maggots, is not lost on him, either.

"You haven't seen it since it happened," Aemond says. "It's healed. But it has left its mark. There are some things that just cannot be forgotten, as your sister is so often told otherwise."

"Our sister," you correct him. "And I know Rhaenyra regrets the incident, too."

"I don't need any of her regrets or apologies."

"Then why are you here?"

Aemond doesn't answer, and instead fixes you with the same chilling, weighted stare that he’s often been chided by his mother for having. Had you been a lesser being, you would have cracked under the pressure of his gaze.

But you are the blood of the dragon, fierce and proud and unafraid. No man, not even the one you share blood with, could ever make you back down. The look in your eyes ignites something in him; a feeling not unlike the one he gets every single time on dragonback. He steals a glimpse of the smooth expanse of your throat, then lower, and even lower…

Aemond pulls away sharply, leaving your hand drifting midair.

“The entire kingdom expects you to marry soon, rather than late,” he says, attempting to salvage what was left of his self-control.

You tilt your head. “The kingdom, your mother, or my sister?”

“I regret to say all of them do. But your fears will not be ignored.”

“Do you have a better idea, then?”

Aemond hesitates, testing the words on his tongue before letting them leave his lips. “You could marry me.”

Your reaction is what he expects it to be.

You withdraw your hand sharply and get out of bed, and Aemond gets to his feet, allowing you to increase your distance from him.

“Does…does no one listen to a word I say?” you ask in agitation. “I never thought to hear these words from you, brother, I—”

“This match has its merits,” Aemond says. “I will not insult your intelligence by discussing them one by one.”

“Whose idea was this?”

“…Father’s.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Father?” you ask incredulously. “Father was barely able to speak in complete sentences before today, and you expect me to believe he’s behind such a large arrangement?”

“Can you prove that he isn’t?”

All of a sudden, you’re standing inches away from him, a finger jabbed into his sternum and your eyes blazing with anger. “You are not getting away with this on a technicality,” you hiss. “Tell me the truth of it.”

“Is the thought of marrying me that repulsive to you?”

“Not if it’s born out of lies.” You clutch the collar of his shirt. “Why do you want to marry me, Aemond?”

He looks down at you, and his hands twitch by his sides, no doubt wanting to feel your warmth permeate through your clothes. He can feel your heart hammering underneath your ribs, and he’s sure that if you slide your hands lower, you could feel his racing similarly. Your body melds so perfectly to his, and you breathe in sync, as if engaged in a dance of their own. Every molecule of your body thrums to life underneath his fingers, every second that passes between you is charged with a tension that threatens to push the both of you over the precipice, and still you do not see.

He hates that, even with one eye, he does.

You await his answer with bated breath, but he sees the way your eyes briefly flicker down to his lips.

“Aemond,” you whisper.

“To…to preserve the family line,” he answers.

And your face just falls.

You gently detach yourself from him, leaving him impossibly cold despite the roar of the fireplace nearby.

“Well,” you say, clearing your throat. “I’m afraid I will have to refuse you. As I did Qoren. As I did everyone else.”

Your words echo around his mind, as if you’d shouted it to him in an empty corridor. Aemond does nothing but stare at you, and you hold his gaze with a practiced ease.

He doesn’t remember leaving your room, nor does he remember if you’d said anything to him as he did. But the next day, he breaks fast alone: his mother missing, Aegon not expected to wake until well in the afternoon, Helaena tending to the children, and Rhaenyra’s family having left for Dragonstone at first light.

When a messenger arrives to inform him that Silverwing had left the Dragonpit before dawn, he simply waves them away.

Aemond takes the death of his father in stride.

He operates exactly how logic demands him to, what he’s always been expected to do. He takes great pains to track Aegon down and forces him to face the reality that Aemond would have accepted without a fight. He keeps Jaehaerys and Jaehaera company as Helaena is prepared for her joint coronation with Aegon, sobbing the whole time her maids fit her into her dress, all the while fighting back thoughts of you donning the magnificent dress made for a future queen.

He gets through the coronation, and is momentarily forced into action when Meleys and Rhaenys disrupt the ceremony. But when the Red Queen and the Queen Who Never Was depart, he settles back into his work.

None of the things he was doing required emotion. He had no need for it. He’s gone for so long without an eye, he can live without a heart.

It’s why he can accept Borros Baratheon’s terms without batting an eye, why he can choose the first of his daughters that crosses his line of sight. He may grow to love her, he thinks, as he offers her a tight-lipped smile, and he may look at her someday without you lurking in the back of his mind.

But the gods that decreed he’d lose an eye, the gods who damned him to years of being dragon-less, are the very same gods that bring Lucerys Velaryon to Storm’s End.

“Go home, pup,” Borros spits, his voice booming like thunder all over the hall. “And tell your mother that the Lord of Storm’s End is not some dog that she can whistle up and need to set against her foes.”

Lucerys keeps his head up, unwilling to show any semblance of weakness. Aemond wants to laugh; his entire body screams fear from head to toe. “I shall take your answer to the Queen,” he replies, his voice steadying at the last word. “My lord.”

Ever the consummate fighter. Had he not been born a bastard, Aemond might have actually liked him.

“Wait,” he calls out. “My Lord Strong.”

Lucerys pauses, taking a moment before looking back at Aemond. His eyes glint with a familiar fire that only eggs Aemond on.

“Did you really think,” he says. “That you could just fly about the realm trying to steal my brother’s throne at no cost?”

Lucerys scoffs. “I will not fight you,” he asserts. “I came as a messenger, not a warrior.”

“A fight would be little challenge. No…” Aemond moves to remove his eyepatch, a burst of lightning illuminating the sapphire sitting where his eye used to be. “I want you to put out your eye. As payment for mine.”

Lucerys pales. For a moment, Aemond wonders if he recognizes the jewel in his eye socket. He presumes not, and even with you now forever out of his grasp, he can’t help but feel a sense of triumph. He had something Lucerys Velaryon had not—your favor.

“One will serve,” he continues casually, retrieving the dagger he keeps on his person and tossing it onto the ground between them. “I would not blind you. I plan to make a gift of it to my mother.”

What fear was in Lucerys’ face left at the sight of the blade, and was replaced by an expression of pure defiance. The adrenaline rushes through Aemond’s veins, practically begging Lucerys to make one wrong move. The looming threat of war, the despair that threatens to crush his mother, the look on Lucerys’ face that looks so much like—

“The Princess [Y/N] of House Targaryen!”

Lucerys nearly staggers in his attempt to turn to the door, and the lump in Aemond’s throat rises as you walk into the hall. You take one confused look at Lucerys, another at Aemond, then at Borros Baratheon.

“Am I to host the entirety of House Targaryen in my hall?” Borros shouts.

You raise an eyebrow. “I admit my surprise at seeing two more dragons than expected in your courtyard,” you say. “But, lest my lord forget, you invited me for the Lady Cassandra’s nameday tomorrow.”

Aemond frowns, and Lucerys looks equally confused. Was it possible that you hadn’t…

Borros gets to his feet. “I will not have this,” he snarls. “I will not be spoken to so casually by dragonspawn, and the least of them, least of all!”

Lucerys reaches for his sword, a look of great affront painted all over his face. Aemond turns his attention to Borros, ready to strike at any given second.

Silence falls over the group, interrupted only by the sounds of the storm raging outside.

You raise your eyebrows.

And Borros bursts into laughter.

Floris stifles a giggle from behind Aemond, as do all her other sisters next to Borros. Aemond and Lucerys share a quick look, all enmity momentarily forgotten in the confusion.

“You have not changed at all, Princess,” Borros continues to laugh heartily, as he settles back into his throne. “My father always told me you would have made a better Baratheon than a Targaryen.”

“And as I’ve told your father, I’d leap off one of your cliffs first before I’d give up the life of a dragonrider,” you say, entering the hall and making your way into its center as if it had been your home all this time.

And it’s then that Aemond remembers you’d been hosted at Storm’s End in your youth, and later named godmother to one of Borros’ daughters.

“But I must admit my confusion, Princess,” Borros says, as soon as he’s finished wiping the tears from his eyes. “I hardly think this is the time for celebrating.”

“I fly all the way back from Volantis to be told it isn’t the time for celebrating,” you repeat dryly.

Borros looks at Lucerys, to Aemond, then back to you. You mimic the action, and when your eyes settle on Aemond, it takes a while for you to get it.

Your lips part in shock, and he watches as your eyes slowly widen.

“I’m…I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, Princess,” Borros says, his voice sounding the gentlest Aemond has ever heard all day despite the gruffness in his tone. “You know how highly my father and I held the late King in regard. If there is anything we might do…”

“You are too kind, my lord.” You clear your throat. “You are right, of course, this is not the time for celebrations. I will see the Lady Cassandra on the morrow, but first…” You walk over to Lucerys and wrap an arm around him. “I believe Prince Lucerys’ business here is finished. I ask your leave to escort him back to Dragonstone.”

“Granted,” Borros replies. “Safe travels, my friend.”

Aemond seethes as the guards follow suit, and as you press your lips to Lucerys’ ear as you turn him around. “If you leave,” he near-growls. “Then you are craven as well as a traitor.”

Your head whips around, and you meet his gaze with a fury he’s never known you to hold. “Not here,” you snarl.

Wisely, Aemond holds his ground.

You take one last glance at the Baratheons, before tightening your grip on Lucerys and leading him out of the hall.

When the door shuts behind you, Aemond retrieves his knife, just as he hears one of the Baratheon girls scoff. He follows the sound to the lady standing closest to Borros, who had on an expression of pure contempt.

“Princess or not, she had the gall to speak to a Prince like that,” she says. “No wonder she’s not yet married. What man would take her?”

“Maris, hold your tongue,” Floris warns.

Maris ignores her sister, looking at Aemond straight in the eye. “Was it one of your eyes he took, or one of your balls?” she asks, voice sweet as honey despite the venom in her words. “I am so glad you chose my sister. I want a husband with all his parts.”

Aemond’s mouth twists in anger. “Lord Borros,” he nearly spits through his teeth. “I ask your leave to depart, as well.”

Borros harrumphed in response. “It is for me to tell you how to act whilst not under my roof.”

Aemond turns on his heels, barely sparing his betrothed a glance before disappearing out the door.

Despite the relentless rain, all Aemond’s senses were heightened as if he were the beast he rides, focused solely on the hunt. He wants to see that look on Lucerys’ face again—that look of pure fear. Pure helplessness. He wants to see all those years’ worth of misery weigh on his entire being, threatening to crush Lucerys with every second that passes.

The laugh that leaves him is one of pure glee as Lucerys and his dragon just barely dodge Vhagar, and he only urges her after them. He shouts a command, and the great she-dragon opens her jaws, closing with a sickening snap that causes Lucerys to cry out in fear.

The dragon takes Lucerys even lower, and to Aemond’s great dismay, they disappear between two cliffs. He takes Vhagar’s reins and heaves; she follows suit, albeit with great difficulty.

The fog clouds his already-compromised vision, and the only things he sees above the gorge are the tips of dragon wings as it beats up and down. “You owe a debt!” Aemond bellows, the frustration of being denied his vengeance lining every single one of his words. “Boy!”

Vhagar notices it before he does, and moves her head to the left. He barely sees it in the darkness of the storm, but there was an unmistakable flash of white that wasn’t a streak of lightning. He pulls to the left, cursing. Finally took advantage of your handiwork, Lucerys? he thinks bitterly. Flying in my blindspot…who would have thought…

Perhaps the storm had grown fiercer, or the fog had gotten thicker, but Aemond only now gets glimpses of Lucerys’ dragon, unlike the direct confrontation that had occurred just earlier. It was unlikely that it had gotten used to Vhagar’s flight pattern so easily, given its age and how inexperienced Lucerys clearly was…

“There!” he shouts, and Vhagar follows without further instruction. The new direction is one that turns the wind against them, and Aemond wonders how such a young dragon fares in such terrible conditions. But Lucerys and his dragon were now up ahead, growing bigger as Vhagar closes the gap in mere moments…he could have sworn that the dragon was a little brighter than that…

A hard gust of wind nearly blows him back in his saddle; blinking the tears out of his eye, he dodges the cloak that Lucerys had previously donned as it flies past.

Revealing a taller figure in the saddle, sporting bright silver hair…

You sense the shift in Vhagar’s disposition almost immediately.

The roar she lets out is enough to shake the entirety of Storm’s End to its very core, and Silverwing shakes her head, clearly agitated. You glance over your shoulder to see Vhagar being pulled back, and you know you have run out of time.

You could only hope that you had bought enough to allow Lucerys and Arrax to escape.

“Listen carefully, Luke,” you shout over the rain, as both you and your nephew make your way to your dragons. Lightning flashes, and you look to the east; your stomach drops when Vhagar is nowhere to be found. “Aemond will try to follow you as you leave.”

You take Lucerys’ face in your hands. “You must find him and Vhagar first. Get them to chase you, and take them to the gorge just a few miles away from here.”

“How will I—”

“It isn’t hard to miss. Fly Arrax through that gorge, go as low as you can. I will meet you there.”

“But you—”

“After that, go as high as you can and go with the wind so you can go faster.”

“What are you going to do?” he asks fearfully. “Vhagar is the largest dragon in the world, and—and Aemond’s angry, and—”

You shush him, brushing his curls out of his face as you have so many times in his youth. “Vhagar is also the oldest dragon in the world,” you remind him. “And Silverwing and Arrax will look nearly identical in this storm. I will try to stay in Aemond’s blind spot, and trust that his dragon will not know the difference.”

The tears start to well in Lucerys’ eyes. “This is my fault,” he begins to cry.

“It is not, sweet boy.” You pull him into an embrace, and Lucerys grips onto your shoulders almost painfully. When Arrax shrieks, and Silverwing hisses at the sky, you pry yourself out of Lucerys’ grasp, tilting his head up.

“I may still reason with Aemond,” you say. “But at least one of us must make it back to Rhaenyra, to tell her what has happened here. I intend it to be you.”

“But—”

“Be brave, Lucerys,” you tell him, and in High Valyrian, you command just as much as you soothe.

Your mother had told you to be brave, too, just days before she’d died on the birthing bed.

Was that the same fate that awaits you in the jaws of a dragon? You suppose that, one way or another, you would leave this world in the same manner.

You find a rocky beach, and you will Silverwing towards it. The pebbles crunch in a strange sort of symphony under her feet, as it does under yours when you dismount. The waves pummel the shore just inches away from where you stand, waiting for the inevitable.

You press your forehead against Silverwing’s head, feeling the she-dragon purr at the contact. No doubt she was feeling the same things you were feeling, after so many years of flying together, but you want to let her know how much she means to you.

A terrifying growl shakes the beach, and Silverwing hisses as Vhagar appears just above you. You hold onto her as the dragon hits the ground, her sheer size causing nearly half of her body to be submerged in the ocean.

You watch as her rider dismounts, his blade glinting in the darkness as he makes his way over to you. When you move to meet him halfway, Silverwing blocks your path, wailing. You feel a surge of affection for your dragon wash over you.

“Be calm,” you instruct her. “Obey.”

Silverwing keens in protest, but obliges, withdrawing reluctantly, only to roar in contempt when Aemond points his blade towards your neck.

Amidst the heavy rain and thick fog, Aemond Targaryen stands tall and proud, his missing eye doing little to discredit the fact that he now looks every inch a god. You could find no trace of the boy you’d known all those years ago, the one who’d followed you everywhere in the Red Keep, the only one of your half-siblings who’d managed to maintain a solid correspondence with you when you were away.

But perhaps he is still in there, somewhere hidden behind the clear wrath in his eye.

“None can stand between a dragon and its prey,” you begin. “A Conqueror’s dragon and her blood, even less.”

“And yet here you stand,” Aemond spits.

“And yet here I stand,” you repeat calmly.

Aemond studies you carefully. You keep your gaze trained on him, completely ignoring the blade he holds to your throat.

“You know the truth of Rhaenyra’s sons,” he hisses. “You’re no fool, yet you choose not to see it. Would you let the pups of House Strong sit on our father’s throne, and his grandfather before him?”

“They have just as much Targaryen blood as you do.”

“Do not—” He presses the tip of his sword directly against your skin, and Silverwing growls in warning. “Do not dare question my heritage.”

“I would never,” you say quietly. “But surely you see why I cannot let you do this.”

“Would you lay down your life for your traitor kin?”

“They are all I have left.” Your voice quivers dangerously. “You may deny their parentage all you like, but you cannot deny that they are my blood still.”

“I am your blood!” You hadn’t realized that Aemond had dropped his blade in favor of closing the distance between the two of you, looming over you like a malevolent shadow in the pouring rain. “‘Tis I who know you better than anyone else; I, who wrote back to you and sat every night by the windows of the Red Keep waiting for you to return; ‘tis I who study history and philosophy and politics to elevate myself to your level.”

Thunder rumbles overhead, and you blink the rain out of your eyes as you continue to stare up at Aemond. You think you catch a glimpse of the child he once was when he holds your gaze so defiantly, but he scoffs, and turns away from you.

“Lord Borros was right,” he spits. “I stand to destroy myself, risk my brother’s cause, worry my mother senseless, and for what? The whims of the last in line to the throne? A mere afterthought, forever in the shadow of her sister? A spoiled bitch who flees with her tail between her legs at the very thought of duty?”

You shake your head, and despite the gravity of the situation, you have to smile. The rocks crunch beneath your feet as you move towards him this time. When your hand presses against the middle of his shoulders, just opposite of his heart, you feel him jolt.

“Words hurt less to those who have heard the same all their lives,” you tell him gently. “But if it comforts you to lash out at me, I will not stop you. I daresay by the time you end, Luke will have already returned to Dragonstone.”

Aemond growls as he turns and grabs you by your arms. Silverwing hisses and snaps, but backs down when Vhagar moves forward.

“Stop acting as if I was a child,” he demands. “I can challenge the greatest knight of the Seven Kingdoms and ride the largest dragon our world has ever known. I am the closest in line to the Throne. The Aemond you knew died the night Lucerys Strong took my eye, and if you mourn him, you will step aside.”

“I cannot,” you whisper, but you might as well have screamed it in his ear. “I told you on Driftmark, didn’t I? You are still the Aemond I know. The Aemond who fought during my nameday tourney all those years ago, giving it his all despite being out of the lists earlier on. You believed that it was Alicent that put you in the lower lists, did you not?”

Aemond stares at you, clearly not following.

“You thought and acted exactly as I’d hoped. I’m sorry you were embarrassed because of it. But…if you would forgive my selfishness…I wanted you by my side in the King’s box, not injuring yourself on the jousting field for my favor. I would have always given you my favor, no matter how many you’d win against.”

You reach up to brush away the hair sticking against his face in the cold rain. “Because it’s you,” you say, running a thumb down the strap of his eyepatch before gently lifting it up. “You’re my Aemond.”

The sapphire that once sat in the brooch you gave him glints in what little light the storm permits to shine. No doubt that to many, it only serves to further unnerve those who already shift uncomfortably in his presence, but to you, it rivals the stars you’d stared at, thousands of leagues away from home, quietly wondering if Aemond was looking at them too.

The expression on his face is a mixture of surprise, admiration, and pain all into one. You know his true feelings; he’d made it known the night he asked for your hand. You would have given it to him gladly, freely, had he been honest about his reasons. A loveless marriage was the last thing you wanted for yourself in this lifetime, the very reason you’d run away from home all those years ago, causing your own father grief; you weren’t about to have it start with a blatant lie.

You think he understands everything now, by the way his shoulders slump and how Vhagar nearly purrs in content. It’s only confirmed when he reaches for your hand, still warm despite the biting cold.

“You’re not playing fair,” Aemond murmurs. “You would make me a kinslayer…every word you speak will damn me for all eternity, and yet…”

He shakes his head. “You know why I’ve come here. Baratheon’s banners for a marriage pact. You’ve scorned me once before. What makes you think I could ever give in to you now?”

“I dare not force you to choose,” you respond. “But know that I will not move from this place; how you will deny me, I leave it to you.”

Aemond’s mouth twitches. “How kind of you to make things simple for me.”

He backs away, and you close your eyes, waiting for the frigid storm to be drowned out by a shower of dragonflame. You think of Lucerys, and how you hope Arrax was able to navigate the storm all the way back to Dragonstone. You think of Rhaenyra, too, your sole full-blood sister, and the tears that you’d shared together in the Sept on your namedays. Your chest grows heavy with grief at the thought of Viserys, and how he’d begged you with his rattling breath to stay, only for you to leave the very night he’d passed.

You should think about what your death would mean; the pain that would cause your kin, the war that was bound to follow. But your last thought, ironically, might ultimately be of the man who would bring about your demise.

Seconds pass. Silverwing falls silent.

And you feel Aemond’s lips on yours.

#🍡—dango-works #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x ofc #aemond targaryen x ofc #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond x targaryen!reader

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sweetlittlegingy · 2 years

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I Don't Start Shit, But I Can Tell You How It Ends

✦ Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Better Man Universe

✦Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Single!Mother, Dagger Squad vs. Davis

✦Word Count: 2.8 K

✦Warnings: Protective!Hangman, Angry!Hangman, Protective!Dagger Squad, Asshole Guy, Failed Drugging, Jake hints at killing people...

✦A/n: The Dagger Squad finally gets ahold of Mathew's old Principle. They really hate the man, we all do tbh! Day 2 of 500 celebration!!!!

✦Library (Follow for updates! I no longer have a taglist.)

He’d told you he wouldn’t go to the school, and Jake Seresin was nothing if not a man of his word. Especially when the promise was made to you. No, Jake had informed Rooster of the situation. Of how the piece of shit, Davis, had touched you and made completely inappropriate comments about not only you, but also Mathew.

Jake had gone to Rooster knowing that the information would have him on a manhunt, and it did. Rooster was overwhelmingly protective of you, and though Jake had hated it at times, right now he was more than thankful for it. What Jake hadn’t meant to have happen, was to have Bob overhear him and Rooster talking.

No, that was defiantly not a part of the plan.

Though it quickly became a part of it.

“I figure, you go in and sweet talk the office Lady and —”

The slam of the locker room doors had Jake pausing, both him and Rooster looking over their shoulders to see a fuming Phoenix.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Her tone has both the pilots, exchanging a worried glance. Glancing behind Phoenix’s form at the other two male pilots, hoping that their faces would provide a revelation.

Jake's eyes first meet Coyote, a hard unamused gaze meeting his own. His eyes leave his best friend, to flitter between Bob’s own unusually hard gaze and Phoenix, her eyes never leaving his own. Her hands rested on her hips, giving both Jake and Rooster a ‘What The Fuck’ look.

“Nix baby, what’s wrong?” Rooster's tone causes a scoff to fall from Phoenix’s lips, taking a step toward the two of them. Both Rooster and Jake to step back, one hand leaving her hip to point at the two of them. A silent accusation.

“When were you going to tell me that my sister-in-law,” Her gaze cutting to Bradley harshly. “and god-son were getting FUCKING harassed by some idiot Principal.”

Both of them remained quiet; never noticing, until now, that lock room floors were remarkably shiny.

“Hmm?”

“Baby, I was going to tell you—”

“Don’t even Chicken,” the name instantly shutting the man up. She’d only ever used it on him when he was in trouble, using it more often than she did his actual name. “You are sleeping on the couch tonight.”

He shouldn’t have laughed, but Jake loved to see Rooster get in trouble. His laugh quickly dies though, when Phoenix’s pointed finger cuts to him.

“And you, what was the plan? Huh?”

“Trace, I had a plan.”

The sound of dripping water echoed through the silent locker room, each of the pilots waiting for Jake to continue. Jake’s eyes moved back to Rooster, who remained not only silent, but looked like he’d just gotten his favorite toy taken away from him.

Jake’s eyes rolled, realizing that Rooster would be no help to him. The 6-foot-something pilot was already in the doghouse with the wife, and wouldn’t be risking getting more sleepless nights on the couch.

“I mean it’s a work in progress, me and Rooster were hashing it out.”

A grunt leaves Rooster, “Look baby I was just listening, and then I was gonna come tell you.”

His head slowly nodding, “Yeah, I was actually about to tell Hangman that we need your input.”

It was clearly a lie, everyone knew it.

But Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw, was in fact the biggest suck-up to his wife. If Jake wasn’t so in love with you, he would’ve laughed. Though from the moment he had met you, he was yours. You said jump, and he said how high.

“You’re an idiot. I love you, but you’re an idiot.” Walking over to Rooster, she gives him a soft kiss, her gaze then bouncing between Jake and Rooster. “But also, you do need me.”

….

Phoenix’s plan was no doubt better, than what the two pilots had initially thought of. Rooster didn’t love the fact that Phoenix was the “bait” in the situation, but she’d quickly told him to shut up before the protest could leave his mouth.

The first part of the plan had worked smoothly, Phoenix and Bob had quickly found Davis’s Facebook page and found the general area in which he lived. They had also learned what car he drove, and like the damn detective that she was, Phoenix found the man’s choice grocery store to shop at.

The momentum of the plan acceleration, like a snowball rolling down the hill. With a “accidental” meeting in the fresh fruit section, Phoenix quickly had a date set with the man.

That was last week which led to here and now, as Phoenix sat at the bar in the Hard Deck, wearing a dress and waiting for her date to show up. The guys crowded around the pool table, causally playing as if they weren’t about to beat the shit out of some middle-aged man soon enough.

You were home with Mathew and Jake knew that you wouldn’t be coming out. He would usually be with you and Maty, but he’d told you that he needed to handle an issue at the Hard Deck with Roos. You hadn’t even questioned it, only asked if he would be coming by after, to which he replied of course.

…

The bar was slightly crowded for a Thursday night, though it didn’t stop the pilots from clocking the door every time it opened. Before long, Davis had shown up, 20 minutes late to the “date,” but he had showed.

Jake notices the way Phoenix slightly stiffens as Davis’s hand rests a tad low on her lower back, and he has to grab Rooster before he goes and beats the shit of the man. Phoenix glances back at the group of guys, meeting Rooster's eyes and giving him a silent ‘I’m okay.’ He relaxes slightly in Jake’s hold, but is still slightly tense as he moves back to the pool table. The group continues the game of pool, eyes fleeting between the game and the bar.

They watch as Phoenix holds a conversation with the man, though maintains a safe distance from his wandering hands. They hadn’t told Penny about the plan, the group of pilots grin as they notice her continually checking in on Phoenix.

….

Penny had once again made her way over to Phoenix and the man, giving her a smile and the man a harsh glare. Penny knew that this couldn’t be one of Phoenix and Rooster's plans to spice up their marriage, no she could tell that this was different.

“Can I get you two a refill?”

“Yeah baby, get me a beer and – ” Davis looks over to Phoenix, before turning back to Penny. “Get her cocktail.”

Penny recoils at the name he calls her and glances back to Phoenix who has remained silent.

“She usually takes a beer or shoots liquor, buddy.”

“Yeah, well cocktails are ladylike.”

The comment has both the women rolling their eyes, Penny’s eyes moving back to the group of pilots, and raises an eyebrow at Rooster.

Rising up from her seat, the dress fluttering down around her hips, drawing Davis’s eyes directly to her tan legs, catching his gaze, Phoenix scoffs.

“Get me whatever Pen, I’m going to the bathroom.”

She leaves before Davis can say anything, more than fed up with the overly handsy and sexist man. Making her way past the group of pilots, she silently looks at them, before going into the bathroom.

…

Jake is making his way to the bar before the bathroom door is fully closed. He slides up to the bar, right next to Davis as he flags down Penny.

“Penny ma’ dear, can I get a whiskey?”

He can feel Davis’ eyes on him, silently watching and assessing. While waiting for Penny, Jake leans his back against the bar, his eyes finally landing on Davis.

“Do I know you?” Jake’s eyes stare at the man, like a lion taunting his prey.

“Nah, don’t think so.”

The reply is short and to the point, but it has Jake laughing slightly. Turning back to lean his forearms on the bar, his gaze harsh and waiting for Davis to bite.

“No, I know you from somewhere.”

Davis doesn’t get a chance to answer as Penny arrives again handing Jake the whiskey and setting down the two drinks for Phoenix and Davis.

“You drinking that girly shit man? Cuz I know Nix doesn’t.”

The comment makes Davis release an uneasy breath, before ignoring Jake altogether. The pilot looks back over his shoulder at the group of guys patiently waiting by the pool table.

If he hadn’t turned back when he did, Jake would have missed it. Lucky, Jake sees it as Davis mixes a bag of powder into Phoenix’s drink.

“Oh buddy, you did not just do that.”

Though the words sound light, the comment is anything but as Jake lays a hand harshly on Davis’s shoulder.

“Listen here, this has nothing to do with you. So just go back to your little friends and leave me be.”

Jake’s tongue slightly clicks at the man, head caulking to the side and laying a harsh gaze upon him. His eyes calculating as ever. Jake has been pissed off before, but now, after this, he was just about ready to kill Davis.

The tick of his jaw, gives Jake away “You know, I thought you looked familiar. You are the piece of shit, who fucked with my girl.”

Grasping the glass of whiskey, Jake shoots the rest of it back. Arm falling to rest upon bar, as he gives Davis his signature award-winning smirk.

“Now here’s what’s gonna happen, Penny ma’ dear you’re going to ring that bell and asshole here is going to pay for a round of drinks.” His soft gaze moves from Penny and back to a clearly worried Davis, eyes instantly hardening when they make contact with Davis‘s own.

“Me and you, we’re gonna go outside and have a little talk, about how you treat women.”

Before he can reply, Bradley and Coyote each grab one of Davis’s arms, and drag him out of the bar as Penny rings the bell in the background. Davis lands harshly on the ground, as Rooster and Coyote release him with a harsh shove. The group of pilots crowded around him, each of them staring down at him with bitter gazes.

“I don’t know wha—”

The words instantly die on Davis’s lips, as Jake crouches down next to him. The surrounding group intent on quietly watching; waiting for Jake to make the first move. Rooster hadn’t seen, the way Davis slipped a powder into Phoenix’s drink, though when he found out Jake was sure he’d want to kill the man just as much.

“Now I’m sure you don’t remember, given that you seem like the type of scum that regularly hits on women without their consent.”

The harsh jab Jake lays on the man’s chest, send him back a bit. The boys had seen Jake mad before, but never like this. Never with such fire and anger burning in his green eyes.

“You see, you made my girl cry. Not just that, you put your hands on my girl, and then you have the nerve to talk about how she’s raising our son.”

Sure, Mathew wasn’t his son yet legally, but with or without the paperwork he was still Jake’s boy.

“She showed up at your office, wanting to have a talk about how your school had been treating Mathew. But she comes home to me crying and hides in the bathroom until I knocked the fuckin’ door down.”

His voice slowly rose with every word, and watching as his words sink in. Jake laughs as he watches Davis pales upon his realization of the words. Jake’s hand raises up to smack Davis gently across the face laughing as he does so.

“Ahhhh, there it is.”

Jake quickly rises back up to stand over the man, turning back around to the group of pilots and motions them to go grab him. As Rooster and Coyote grab onto the man, lifting him back onto his feet, Jake slowly makes a show.

He always like to show off, it made people uneasy. Jake liked making sure everyone knew just how good he was. He glances over his shoulder, as he unbuttons the khaki uniform top, pulling it off so he’s only wearing the white undershirt with his khaki pants. Glancing back at the man with that well-known smirk,

“Can’t have you bleeding on my good clothes.”

He says it so easily, but he knows that it hits its mark, as Davis shutters slightly in Coyote and Roosters hold.

The sound of the bar doors opening, has the group looking back toward the entrance. Watching as Phoenix exits the bar and makes her way to the group.

“Did I miss anything?”

Davis silently stares at the woman, his eyes moving between Jake and her. The realization slowly crept in that this whole night was a set-up; the meet-up in the grocery store, Jake coming up to him in the bar, and now here with his back pressed against the side of the bar wall.

“Not a thing, Trace.”

The shift of Davis’ shoulders sends everyone's eyes back to him, watching and calculating just how bad his night might become.

“Now as you can tell, well maybe you can’t cause you’re an idiot, but we’re all in the Navy. And with the Navy, comes call signs.”

Jake’s form comes to a halt, staring down Davis with a wicked smile that just about sends Rooster and Coyote running.

“My callsign, well there are few people that know the real reason behind it, but you’re about to find out buddy.”

Glances are exchanged between the other pilots, though it’s Coyote's gaze that never leaves Jake’s. He’d been there when Jake earned the name Hangman. It had been a long time ago, but he knew that Jake, still lay just beneath the surface.

“See everybody likes to assume, that it’s because I like flying alone. Well, that just ain’t it, nope.”

The calculated steps, unnerving gaze, and the way in which Jake talks were clearly meant to scare the man.

Let it be known, that when you pissed Jacob Grant Seresin off, all hell would break loose.

Jake’s right arm shootouts, to grasp Davis’s neck so fast that I has Phoenix gasping. The other pilots only shift slightly at the brutal action.

“No, I got named Hangman because I’ve been known to string up men and play the judge, jury, and executioner.”

With each title that falls from his lips, Jake lifts Davis slowly until his feet no longer touch the ground and the only thing keeping him up, is the hand clasped around his neck.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?”

The group of pilots remain unmoving, all watching in unnerving silence and slowly comprehending the way in which Jake actually got his callsign. Davis tries to nod his head, though the hand around his neck makes it near impossible. As if only to taunt him more, Jake taps his ear slightly with his left hand.

“What was that?”

Shades from red to a light purple, start to cover Davis’s face, a clear sign of his lack of oxygen. His mouth moves though no words can fall from it. A sharp chuckle leaves Jake’s lips, as he loses his grip slightly as the man gasps for air.

“I understand.” The panting of his breath only makes Jake smile widen.

“Good.”

As the single word is muttered from Jake’s lips, the right hand once clasped over Davis’ neck drops. His body falls to the floor on the concrete, causing him to lean back against the bar wall, gasping for air.

“And I thought you would be more fun to break.” His tone light and easy, completely unfazed by the events that just occurred.

Jake reaches over to take his shirt from Phoenix, giving each of his friends the smile that they all came to know once Jake met you. He was a completely different person, than the one he was just moments ago. As he pulls the shirt back on, without missing a beat Jake lowers himself down to Davis. Laughing slightly at how the man flinches away from him.

“Don’t ever come around my girl or son again.”

The tone of his voice sends another shockwave through Davis’s body. Rising without any care for the man, Jake kicks the man’s limp foot before turning ready to get home to you.

A final glance over his shoulder, to the group of his friends still standing around Davis unsure of what to do.

“Hey Roos, I forgot to tell you that he tried to drug Nix.”

The final words, might as well have been those that a coroner would’ve signed in the finalization of the death certificate.

#better man universe #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x you #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #bradley bradshaw #top gun maverick #top gun: maverick #top gun #natasha phoenix trace #robert bob floyd #javy coyote machado #mickey fanboy garcia #rueben payback fitch

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a-aexotic · 1 year

Note

Could you write something around the sentence “I’d choose you over anyone” with Rafe :))) preferably kinda enemies (or friends) to lovers angsty type of thing xx thank you!!

ren's notes hey! of course i can, enemies to lovers w/ rafe is literally my dream ugh. y/n out here living the dream. ALSO im sorry i totally forgot about the prompt :(

pairing. rafe cameron x fem!reader requested? yes no

warnings. drinking, mention of hickies, enemies to lovers, ooc sarah/rafe, angst to fluff

summary. being best friends with sarah, it was natural to hate rafe. you hate him and he hates you, or that's what everyone else though.

➜ missing out on updates? ❪ navigation. masterlist. taglist. ❫

As long as you could remember, you hated Rafe Cameron. From the very beginning, you hated him - ever since you'd move in next to the Cameron's, you and Rafe had been at each other's throats. It was something that had become a norm for the Cameron's and the L/N's.

You and Rafe are too similar. You guys are both hotheaded, blunt and kind of reckless. You guys are too similar to around each other, it was like forcing two negatives together; it would cause them to want to explode on one another.

As you got older, the more mature you got. And naturally, you wanted this stupid rivalry between you two to end. But if there was anything you knew about Rafe, it was that he was not mature.

So now he loved pressing your buttons, going over the line and getting on your nerves. He loved it, it was his favorite part of the day; seeing you all flustered and bothered when he made a snide remark that you didn't have a response to. It was his goal, to see you all embarrassed and annoyed.

Rafe knew you surprisingly, very well. You'd been best friends with Sarah since you had moved in next door and he'd heard all your secrets when you and Sarah would have sleepovers. He made it a point to learn all your weak points and secrets, not use them against you... Well, maybe sometimes, but just for fun. Again, it was a fun hobby for the bored Cameron sibling.

Everyone who knew Rafe or you knew you two had despised each other. That was just a fact of the island, everyone knew it.

You walked into the Cameron's house on a mission; find the heels that Sarah had stole from you so you could prove to yourself (and Sarah) that you weren't crazy. Those heels didn't just grow legs and walk, did they? You didn't have a little sister and the only person who consistently borrows and never returns your clothes is Sarah.

You knew Sarah would be at John B's today so this was the perfect time. You walked upstairs and barged into Sarah's room, walking to her closet and looking through her shoes.

To most people, that was considered "crossing a boundary," but you and Sarah were basically sisters at that point so looking through her clothes to find an item you were missing wasn't out of the ordinary. You wouldn't do that if she would just put the damned items back.

And plus you needed those heels asap, tonight was Midsummers. It was the event of the summer and you loved dressing up in cute dresses and nice heels; you'd been planning the outfit for months. You made the outfit surrounding the heels: without the heels, your outfit would be nothing. You already bought a matching dress and a Tiffany necklace, now all you needed were the heels.

Sarah swore she didn't have them, but who else would take them?

You were looking through her shirts and you found the Reputation shirt you were looking for two months ago, who she also swore she didn't have. You scoffed, "Bitch."

The more you looked, the more frustrated you were because you could not find the heels anywhere. You heard a knock at the door and sighed, "Come in."

Rafe walked in and his face contorted into a disgusted one. "Ew, you're not Sarah."

"Shut up, Rafe. God, do you have anything better to do? Shouldn't you be golfing with thing 1 and thing 2 right now?" You groaned and he couldn't help but laugh at your nicknames for Top and Kelce.

"Shouldn't you be making out with your gross Pogue boyfriend?" He countered, making you roll your eyes again.

"JJ's not my boyfriend."

He sighed, "Good, I was hoping you wouldn't go as low as dating a Pogue. Anyway, what are you doing in Sarah's room?"

You furrowed your brows at his words before sighing. "I can't find the pair of heels I was going to wear at Midsummers and I think I might just end it all."

"You should, it'd be great for the world." Rafe smirked and you put your head in your arms, groaning in frustration. You didn't need Rafe's snarkiness right now, you just wanted to find those heels.

"Wait." He paused. "Are they uh, pink and glittery?"

You turned your head up, looking at Rafe with a suspicious glint in your eye. "Yeah..."

"Oh, shit." He walked away and then returned a few seconds later with your heels in his hands. You got up and ran to him, grabbing them from his hands.

"Why would take them! What the hell, Rafe? Are you crazy?"

He sighed and rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Lower your fucking voice, jesus. You're so loud. I didn't take them, okay? They just ended up in my room and I thought one of the girls I had over left them, okay?"

You scoffed in disgust. "You're gross."

"Don't act like you haven't had a boy over, Y/N. I know you have, you make it so obvious with your hickies and shit." Rafe spoke, sighing with an ounce of jealousy in voice. You almost thought you misheard it.

You felt your face heat up at mention of hickies. "They're not hickies they're rashes, okay? My neck is sensitive."

He laughed, "Alright sure. Sensitive neck, my ass."

You rolled your eyes for what seemed like the millionth time that day as you walked through the door of Sarah's bedroom, making it a goal to make sure to hit Rafe's shoulder on the way out.

"So immature," you mumbled.

Rafe smiled as he watched you walk away, his goal accomplished. Leave you flustered and annoyed, check. He walked back to his room with a wide grin.

As you walked back your house, heels in hand, you kept picturing Rafe's annoying smirk. It kept replaying in your mind and you feel yourself burning up at the thought of the older brother.

You wanted to slap yourself, were you crazy? Why were you acting like that over Rafe? You hated him more than anyone else in the world, he made your life unnecessarily annoying. So why does your heart skip a beat when you see his annoyingly perfect smile?

This has been happening for the last couple months and you feel yourself becoming more and more vulnerable with every remark he makes: you can never counter them, your mind going blank. You felt stupid and weak, you couldn't just let Rafe win this decade long fight. You weren't going to let him.

You and Sarah were at your house, getting ready for Midsummers. This was your favorite event of the year - in all honesty, you loved how classy it made you feel. The dances, the champagne, everyone else looking on the inside, jealous. It was a secret pleasure you happily took part in; I mean, what's the point of being a Kook if you can't flex it?

"See, I told you I didn't take it." Sarah mumbled annoyed as she did her eyeshadow.

You scoffed, "then how'd it end up in Rafe's room?"

She looked back at you with a smirk, "I don't know, you tell me."

The same burning sensation had came onto your face as you shook your head in annoyance, turning back to curling your hair. "God, you're gross for even... even suggesting that."

"Suggesting what, Y/N? You're the one with the dirty mind, I never said anything."

"God, shut up! My parents could hear us, y'know?"

Sarah laughed at your displeasure. "Are you excited to meet up with Nick?"

You smiled. Nick was your longtime crush; you've liked him since seventh grade and you just had the nerve to ask him out now. He was the hottest guy in OBX: he was a football player, he was smart, had pretty eyes you could stare into for hours long and soft curly hair. He was your dream guy and he agreed to be your date to Midsummers.

"Yes, I am. I hope he thinks I'm pretty-"

Sarah scoffed at you. "Of course he will, you are pretty. Don't even say that, who cares what he thinks?"

"I kind of do, I mean I've liked him for so long, I don't know what I'd do if he didn't like me back." You confided in Sarah. She looked back you, sympathetically.

"Well, I mean... He agreed to be your date for Midsummers, that's a good start."

You nodded in response. "Yeah! It is."

You both finished with your hair and makeup, now all you had to do was get dressed. You had bought this pink dress to match with your heels and your hair was curled and in an half up half down hairstyle. You also had bought a new Tiffany necklace to tie the whole look together.

Sarah wore her white dress and cute headpiece. You looked in the mirror and you were genuinely proud of yourself for making this outfit come true.

"Wow, that dress is stunning on you." Sarah was breathless; you look beyond beautiful; you looked flawless. You smiled at her.

"Thank you, Sarah. You too. I love that dress on you, it's perfect."

You and Sarah eventually got the texts from your ride, your crush and date, Nick. He was outside waiting for you guys. You tried not to squeal with excitement as you walked down the stairs, your dress perfectly flowing. You already felt like the night was going to be the most magical and a night to remember.

His Benz was waiting outside for you and Sarah and she smirked at you. "You excited?"

"Yes, I can't wait to dance with him." You whispered to her as she opened the door for you. His friend was already in the front seat so you and Sarah were in the back.

"Ladies first."

You giggled at Sarah's words as you went in, taking a seat. Sarah came in right after you. The smell of strong cologne immediately hit you, with a faint smell of weed. You scrunched your nose as you held your breathe; surprisingly, those two smells weren't the best mixture of smells.

"Wow, I like your dress, Y/N." His friend commented and you waited for Nick's reply. He was on his phone, taking a snap before he realized that he needed to answer. He turned to you with a big smile.

"Uh, yeah. It's gorgeous." He started the car and you lent back in your seat, content with his answer. Sarah glared at him before looking back at you. You ignored her disapproval. He then took his friend's vape pen and took another hit.

The ride there wasn't as magical as you thought it would be. You and Sarah were the only ones talking as the country music on the radio in the background making it somewhat even more awkward. Luke Combs wasn't exactly the artist you wanted to listen to right now.

His friend turned to you and Sarah. "You wanna pregame?"

You and Sarah both shared a look before both shaking your heads. Tonight wasn't about getting drunk or high to either of you. Nick nodded though.

"Yes sir, gimme."

His friend laughed before taking out a few fireball shots, handing one to Nick.

"You sure you wanna be taking that... Uh, now?" Sarah spoke up, refering to him drinking and driving. He waved her off, nodding.

"We'll be fine, it's one shot." He made his friend open the bottle and he quickly took the shot, making him shake his head and let out a loud "Woo." His friend soon did the same.

You couldn't have gotten to the Club any quicker; you wanted to leave the air immediately. Maybe Nick would act a little better once you were in front of their parents.

You and Sarah exited the car and so did the boys. Nick went up to you and took your arm in his, smiling down at you. "Okay, let's go dance."

You smiled. You texted him the first you wanted to do when you got to Midsummers was dance and he remembered. How cute was he?

Sarah was awkwardly standing beside you guys as you walked in. You were so excited you could barely contain it, you squeezed his arm. "I'm so excited!"

Sarah excused herself so she could find and talk Wheezie instead of third wheeling with you.

He hummed in response as he took you the dancefloor, putting his hands on your waist as you put your arms around his neck. The night was as magical as they come; clear starry sky, the sound of faint music coming from inside and the waves crashing onto the beach.

You see Nick's gaze shift to someone behind you and he looked like he'd just seen a ghost. He lets go of you and clears his throat. "Let me uh, go get us some drinks."

You were confused but you nodded along. He walked away and you were by yourself, standing there waiting for Nick to return. You stood there for 15 minutes before deciding that maybe you should go check up on him. You were beginning to worry.

You looked all over the bar and you couldn't find him. You found his friend from before and as he caught your gaze, he had suddenly became tense and nervous.

"Hey, uh. Do you know where Nick went?"

"Nope. Not a clue." His friend replied as you furrowed your eyebrows in suspicion. If anyone knew where Nick was, it was obviously going to be him.

You heard some snuffling in the back and you moved your gaze to behind the boy. There was a door. You quickly walked away to the door and knocked.

"Uh, you shouldn't go in-"

When there was no answer, you opened it to see a girl you had never seen before and Nick. She was on a table and he was in front of her, exchanging spit.

Your heart dropped at the scene, your mouth flew open. "What the hell?!" You shouted.

Nick had turned around and seen you and his eyes widened and he immediately turned away from the girl. "Oh, Y/N-"

"Oh my gosh, you are so gross." You couldn't help but feel your eyes water at the sight, a single tear rolling down your cheek. Your night was definitely ruined now. So much for a magical evening.

You turned away from the scene, ignoring Nick's pleas and you walked away through the crowds. You were so focused on trying not to cry more, you accidentally bumped into someone and they spilled their red wine all over your brand new dress.

You looked up to see Rose and she immediately apologizes but you were already in tears, you broke down. You started crying as she rubbed your shoulder comfortingly.

"I-I'm sorry, Y/N, I can buy you a new one!" Rose exclaimed happily but you shook your head.

Rafe was talking to Kelce when he had heard all the commotion happen - he saw Nick with that girl and then he saw you walking away; he quickly followed you.

He didn't know why he did it; it's not like he cared about you, he just wanted to make sure you were alright. Rafe followed you to where you and Rose were and immediately went by your side.

As he saw your puffy eyes and your dress all ruined, something clicked. He was suddenly angry; he'd heard how excited you were about Midsummers and look how it's turning out.

He heard someone walk up to you and he turned his head to see none other than Nick.

"Y/N, are you- are you okay?" He put his hand on your shoulder and you turned around to shake your head. You really didn't want to make a scene but Nick was the last person you wanted to see, so he was making it impossible for you to keep your cool.

"God, no! You just ruined my night."

He looked around at all the people staring and he took your hand but you ripped it out of his grasp. "Don't touch me, Nick."

Despite your efforts, he still decided to put his hand on your shoulder. Rafe had enough; he pushed him away from you and grabbed him by his collar.

"She said don't touch her, man." Rafe shouted at Nick. "So don't fuckin' touch her."

You couldn't take it anymore; there were too many people everyone and suddenly the music was too loud. You walked away from the scene and held in your cry. You couldn't even go home because stupid Nick had drove you here in his stupid Mercedes.

Rafe let go of Nick once he realized you had walked away. He tried to look for Sarah but she was no where to be found. "Where's Sarah when you fucking need her," he mumbled.

Rose was worried sick about you, wondering what had happened. "Rafe, go talk to her and I'll find Sarah, okay?"

He nodded and sighed. He was worried about you, too but he was going to admit that.

You heard footsteps behind you and you turned around expecting Sarah but you were slightly disappointed once you saw it was Rafe. He sat next to you silently as you sniffled.

He sighed and look over at you. "Nick's an asshole."

You nodded silently. Rafe looked over at you and the sight of you crying made him angrier. He hadn't even managed to make you cry in the 10 years he’d know you; he couldn't believe that Nick could've done so easily. He was slightly glad that he'd never made you cry before because the sight alone made him miserable.

"I'm sorry about... your dress. It was really pretty."

You looked over at Rafe, disbelief in your eyes. Did Rafe Cameron just call your dress... pretty?

He laughed at your expression, making you crack a small smile. His laugh always made you feel a little better, even if it was directed at you.

There was silence for a moment, just listening to the waves crashing and the music from inside the Club. Rafe turned to you, "I know we're not friends or anything... but uh, I'm here if you want to talk."

You smiled back at Rafe. It was unusual to see such a sweet Rafe but you've known him long enough to see it sometimes. He's not completely evil. And maybe you didn't completely hate him. You knew he doesn't like seeing you, Sarah or Wheezie cry. Even though he pretended to hate them, he really doesn't.

You turned away from Rafe, taking a deep inhale. "I don't want to bother you-"

"You're not." Rafe quickly refuted.

You suddenly felt a pidge of guilt as you looked over at Rafe; you possibly ruined his night as well. "Rafe, I'm sorry. You shouldn't feel responsible to calm me down."

Rafe sighed and rolled his eyes. "Stop apologizing, Y/N. You didn't do anything wrong. No one made me come and help you, okay? I did it out of my own free will."

You sighed. "Nick is an asshole."

"We've agreed on that."

"I just wish that I had a perfect night, I had such high expectations and they all just plummeted as the night went on. I know what you're going to say, I shouldn't have had my standards up so high. But I did. And here I am, my dress and makeup ruined and no date." You ranted as Rafe listened and nodded along.

"You don't need a date to be happy. Or a nice dress. Or makeup, I mean, you already look beautiful as is." Rafe said confidentally, making you turn your gaze back to Rafe. You smiled at his words.

"You mean it?"

"Yes, you do look beautiful." Rafe sighed; it was obvious though, everyone thought it. It was just pure fact.

You felt a heat come on to your face and you looked away, bashfully. Rafe Cameron was so confusing - how could one person make you feel so many things?

"I mean, don't get me wrong. You're still the most annoying person on this island, but beautiful nonetheless."

You grinned slightly as you rolled your eyes. That was the Rafe Cameron you knew. "Wow, so nice. Thanks."

You both let out a soft laugh before sitting in calm silence again. The summer breeze making you shiver as you looked at the beach in front of you. Rafe noticed this and without another word, took off his blazer and put it on top of you.

Before you could thank him, you heard a familar shout behind you.

"Y/N!" Sarah ran out to you and Rafe. She was breathless, taking a moment to catch her breathe before continuing. "Fuck Nick. My gosh, I've wanted to say that this whole week. He's so annoying. I'm glad you saw his true colors sooner rather than later, Y/N."

She took a seat between you and Rafe, seperating you. She saw that you were wearing his blazer and she smirked to herself.

"Wow." She said, simply. "Kie owes me 15$"

You and Rafe both looked each other then back at Sarah. "What?"

749 notes · View notes

tbmunson · 11 months

Text

Escape - Gareth Emerson x Reader

Summary: You and Gareth get paired for the most important art project of the semester.

Warnings: Slow burn, idiots in love, caring for Gareth's sisters.

WC: 4,730

Notes: I'm in recovery for surgery, so updates will be slow. Shout out to @ashes-writing for being my absolute bestie and letting me bounce ideas.

1 / 2 / 3

PART 1

“Okay, class, you’ll work as partners for your final project.” Mr. Greely the art teacher stated, earning a cheer from the class. “I wouldn’t cheer so fast. I paired you up myself. This project is to make art based on what you learn about your partner, hence the little questionnaire at your tables. It can be a painting, drawing, or sculpture. Any audio recordings or mixed tapes will be given a zero. This is art, not band.

You rolled your eyes, but not because you wouldn’t be working with Tiffany, the only other cheerleader in the class, but because there was a chance you’d have to work with one of the meatheaded basketball players. You didn’t really want to work with her either, but that was a whole other can of worms.

Mr. Greely droned on, only catching your attention when he said your name. “You’ll be working with Emerson.”

Your eyes widened, which caught the attention of a few of your classmates who began to giggle. The panic was not from the boy himself, rather the fear you would accidentally fall harder for him if you got to really know him. Your focus was disrupted by shuffling next to you as Gareth settled into the desk paired with yours. “Hi.” You said softly, meek almost.

Gareth assumed this was due to disdain for him, presented a bit more politely. He did hear the giggles after all. “What’s up?” Not a question, just a simple acknowledgement to your greeting.

You studied his side profile, debating the different art forms you could use to relay the puffy haired metalhead next to you.

“You have a month to complete this project. Oh, and, your partner will be grading you on how well they think you relay them to the world. That does have an effect on the overall grade, so get to know each other.” Mr. Greely finished as the bell rang.

“So, I don’t know if you’re busy tonight with it being Friday and all, but my house is free tonight if you want to come do the questionnaire.” You offered sweetly as you packed your notebook into your bag.

“I, uh, have to watch my sisters tonight, but, if you want to, I mean, you can come to my place.” His nerves were apparent, which made you smile.

“Yeah, I’ll find you at lunch and finalize the details.” You gripped the strap to your backpack and turned to meet Tiffany at the door.

She sputtered out a laugh as she glanced over her shoulder to Gareth. “You really got paired with the freak, huh?”

You couldn’t stop the eye roll. “Tiff, I’ve known him since forever. He’s a sweet guy. Just because he listens to different music and doesn’t dress the same doesn’t make him a freak.” You replied, trying to keep your tone level so as to not snap at the head of the cheerleading team.

“He plays a fucking fantasy game, babe. It’s weird.” She chirps back as if it was common knowledge.

“It’s an escape. Everyone has an escape. You totally zone out when you cheer. That’s your escape.” You’re fully annoyed now, but not showing it, which is hard due to the fact that she just laughs, mumbling a “Whatever.” under her breath.

You break off into your math class and sit next to Eddie Munson. “Hey, Eddie.” You say, catching his attention.

He peeks around you, looking around.

“What are you doing?” You ask, furrowing your brows.

“Wondering why Hawkins High’s very own princess is trying to talk to me. Not that I’m complaining. Just curious.” He responded with an amused look.

You can’t help the small smile that spreads at his antics. “I’m talking to you because I’m a nice person and I let you cheat off of me. It’s time to repay the favor.”

“Ooh, princess wants something from the freak. Enlighten me.” He taps the tips of his fingers together in a way that would mook maniacal if it weren’t Eddie.

You roll your eyes at the dramatics. “I have an art project and I need-”

“I will not model naked for you if that’s what you’re asking.” He had a very serious look on his face, which meant he was totally joking, something you’d come to know sitting next to him in three different classes.

You smacked his arm and furrowed your brow. “No. I need the inside scoop on Gareth. He’s my partner and I have to get to know him, like really get to know him for this project.”

Eddie nods, resting his chin in his hand. “Okay. I can help you with that. As long as I keep copying your homework and cheating off of your tests.” He smirked, a wide grin plastering his face.

“In all honesty, I didn’t even think about using that as a threat.” You giggled, reaching over and scribbling your number onto a page with a scratched out doodle in his notebook. “Call me tomorrow. I’ll be at Gareth’s tonight.”

“Oh yeah, date night.” Eddie replied kind of like an off hand comment.

“It’s not a date, Eddie.” Your eyes were wide again like they had been in art class.

Eddie laughed and shook his head. “I mean his parents. He has to watch his sisters. Although I may be reading into that reaction a little too much, but I think you-”

“Not another word or the copying does stop.” Your face was hard, begging him not to speak the words you already knew were true. You would like to go on a date with him, but this, getting to really know him as part of a project, it’ll work too. Better, you convince yourself. Better because there’s no pressure to actually like him and if you don’t, well at least you'll know and you can stop this pitiful pining over him.

“Yes, your highness.” Eddie bows as much as he can while sitting before the teacher begins class.

Two class periods later you were headed to lunch. Once you made it to the cafeteria you headed right for the Hellfire table, leaving a very confused Stephanie in the doorway. As you approached a group of freshmen were settled at the table. “Hi, does Gareth sit here?” You knew he did, but striking up a conversation would be better than just claiming a seat that didn’t belong to you.

The curly haired one looked up, surprised a cheerleader was talking to him. “I, uh, yeah.” he sputtered, earning a glare from the dark haired one.

“Dude, you can’t just tell people like-” He cuts himself off, looking up at you and wondering if you’d tear him a new one.

You laughed and leaned against the table. “I know. People like me have a bad rap, and usually for good reason. I have an art project with Gareth and we need to go over some details. No malice. No ill intent. Pinky promise.” You held out your pinky, waiting for one of the group to make their move.

The smaller boy with a bowl cut reaches out, linking his pinky with yours. “He’ll be here in a few. He usually takes a smoke break before coming to lunch. That’s his seat,” He points to a chair on the edge of the opposite side of the table. “And Jeff isn’t here today, so the spot next to him is open if you want to sit.”

“Thank you.” You smile before rounding the table and sitting in the middle seat. “My name is Y/N, by the way.” You offer a hand over the table for any one of them to take.

The curly haired boy reaches over and shakes it, “I’m Dustin, this is Mike and Will.”

“It’s nice to meet you guys. So, how does Dungeons and Dragons work? I’ve never played but it seems interesting from what I’ve seen.” You can’t find it in yourself to regret the question as Dustin and Will go into an in depth explanation of the game. You were so drawn in that you didn’t notice Gareth walking up to the table, or the look of horror as the freshmen bombarded you with facts about a fantasy game, even if he loved that fantasy game more than most things.

“Alright you guys, I’m sure she doesn’t want to hear about DnD.” Gareth sighed as he sat, drawing the attention of the four of you.

You gave him a playful glare. “I asked, actually. It sounds like a lot of fun. Very creative.” You were smiling by the end.

Gareth nodded, unable to help the thought that you were only saying that to seem nice and use it against them later. He immediately felt bad because in all the years of classes together, you’d never been that way. “Okay, well, I’m sorry. You can continue, Dustin.”

“Actually, Dustin, as much as I want to hear the differences in characters, I really need to get some stuff settled with Gareth about this project. How about I come sit here on Monday and you and Will can finish telling me about it.” You offered, finding the kids incredibly charming and utterly adorable.

“Yeah!” Dustin replied, opening a book to keep track of what he’d filled you in on already.

Gareth chuckled and leaned over to whisper to you. “You really don’t have to let them torture you like this.” The way his voice rumbled in your ear mixed with the warmth of his breath cascading down your neck, you knew you were screwed.

“Gare, really, I want to know about it. I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.” You assured him, placing a hand on his forearm and giving it a small squeeze.

Gareth didn’t know what else to say, so he only offered a crooked smile instead.

“Good, it’s settled. Now to the main task at hand. What time do I need to come over?”

He shrugged and went over the schedule in his head. “I’m gonna do dinner at 5:30, give them a bath, and let them play. They’ll be out by 7:30.” He offered more as a question.

“Or, I can bring dinner from Benny’s around 6, help you give them a bath, and we can all watch a movie before they go to bed.” You twisted a curl around your finger as you waited for his response.

He nodded and smiled. “Yeah, they’d like that.”

You slid your notebook and a pen in front of him. “Write down your order and I’ll be over by six.”

“Do you even know where I live?” He quirked a brow as he scribbled down an order.

“Gareth Emerson, I have lived down the street from you my whole life. Of course I know where you live.” You reached out and gently smacked his shoulder.

Gareth laughed and held a hand up in surrender. “I’m just making sure. I’d hate for you to get lost and leave me starving.” He jokes, sliding the notebook across the table with the order, along with his number. “See you tonight?”

“For sure, but you’re going to see me sitting here for the rest of lunch, if that’s okay with you.” You looked up at him through your lashes.

“It’s totally fine!” Dustin said, grabbing your attention. You’d almost forgotten about the freshmen sitting across from you.

You laughed and nodded, knowing he wanted to continue his spill about the different kinds of characters.

The end of the day came and you were headed out to your car when you were stopped by Tiffany. “What in the hell were you doing at that table of freaks during lunch?”

Your jaw clenched, but you didn’t let your anger show. “I had to come up with a plan for this project. Gareth is my partner. Art is the only class we have together and I’d like to get it started sooner rather than later.”

Tiffany scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Don’t let it happen again.”

“Actually, I’ll be there Monday too, and probably a few times throughout the next couple of weeks. I’ll sit with you guys on game days so no one sees me in my uniform at their table, but this project is important to me. Art is important to me. You know I want to be an artist. If getting to know him is what it takes to make a kickass piece, then I’m doing it.” Your tone wasn’t harsh, but it was firm, letting her know there would be no room for negotiation.

She didn’t say anything, just stomped away, which caught the attention of the older Hellfire members.

“I think she just stood up for us.” Grant said, eyebrows raised.

Gareth pressed his back against the brick wall and looked up at the tin of the sidewalk covers. “Fuck.” He shook his head as he breathed deeply.

“What, Emerson?” Eddie cocked a brow at Gareth’s pained expression.

“I don’t know. Like, this is going to be so hard. I’ve only been in love with her since kindergarten. Now she’s sitting at my lunch table, standing up for me and my friends, and she’s coming to my fucking house tonight. How am I supposed to do this?”

Eddie couldn’t help but to laugh at his friend's pained expression. “I usually don’t get in the middle of this crap, but, earlier I made a joke about it being date night. She got really defensive, and that’s fully a sign that she’s into you. Maybe just go for it?”

“You’re so full of shit, Munson. She’s just a nice person and didn’t want you to get the wrong idea.” He replied, finally pushing himself off the wall. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow at practice. Gotta get home so my parents can head out.”

Eddie and Grant mumbled their goodbyes before making their way to Eddie’s van.

It was currently 5:50 and you’d just pulled into the Emerson’s driveway with a passenger seat full of food and shakes. You released a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding before cutting the engine and getting out of the car. You’d barely made it to the passenger door when the glossy red door to the house flung open.

“Lori, get back here!” Gareth’s exhausted yell came as he chased her down the steps, not yet realizing you’d arrived. He scooped her up as she giggled.

“I was trying to see your friend!” Lori‘s giggles quickly turned into a whine when she realized her brother had no plans to put her feet back on the ground.

Gareth finally looked up, making eye contact with you as you rested your elbow on the roof of the car. “Hey, uh, sorry. One sec.” He finally returned Lori’s feet to the ground but made her look at him. “Go back inside. I’m going to help Y/N bring the food in and you can see her in there, okay?”

She pouted but nodded before walking slowly to the house.

“Someone’s got the dad voice down.” You smiled, bending to grab the bags as Gareth made his way over to you in a pair of grey sweat pants and a faded Metallica shirt.

“Yeah, well, someone had to be when my dad split a few years ago. Rick is nice though.” He replied, reaching to take the bags out of your hands.

You nodded, smiling as his skin brushed yours. “I think you’re doing a great job considering she actually listened.” You offered before bending back down to get the drink tray with the shakes.

Gareth planned on replying, but he was silenced by the sight of you bent over and the amount of leg coming out of the old practice cheer shorts you’d changed into. He watched you stand and bump the door with your hip to close it.

“C’mon Gare, shakes are melting.” You said, taking a few steps towards his house.

He nodded and followed wordlessly. This was going to be a lot harder than he thought.

As you and his sisters settled into the table Gareth apologized again that his sisters threw a fit to both sit next to you.

“They’re fine, Gareth. Tell your brother to stop worrying so much, Lori.”

“Yeah, stop worrying that much.” She sassed, making you laugh and Gareth roll his eyes.

“I don’t know how Clara expects me to help her with her food all the way over there.” He gave the youngest girl a look as if to say ‘didn’t think of that, did you’.

“I’ve got it. It’s just chicken and fries. She’s safe in my care.” You assured him as you opened the small styrofoam container to start tearing the strips into more manageable pieces for a two year old

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t have to.” He replied sincerely.

You sighed and turned to look at him. “Gareth, it’s okay to let people do stuff for you. If I minded I wouldn’t be doing it. Do you trust that?”

He was at a loss for words, only nodding in response.

“Good. Now eat your burger before it gets cold.” You instructed as you finished tearing the chicken. “One at a time, Clara. Don’t put another in your mouth until the first one is all gone, okay?”

The small girl with white curly hair and bright blue doe eyes nodded, reaching for a piece of her chicken.

You popped a fry into your mouth, fully ready to dive into your burger when there was a tap on your shoulder. You turned to see Lori looking at you with a pout.

“Can you do my chicken too? Pretty please.” She looked like she was scared you would say no.

“Of course, baby doll! Let me see.” You pulled her plate over to you and started ripping the chicken into bits.

“Lori, you eat strips all the time.” Gareth stated after swallowing a bite of his burger.

“Gareth, eat your burger and let her be. She wants my attention and that’s okay.” You assured him, cutting your eyes over to look at him across the table without moving your head very much.

“But your food is going to get cold.” He urged as you took on the second strip.

“We’ll call it practice for being a real mom one day. Cold food, cold coffee, hot ice cream.”

“Ew! Hot ice cream!” Lori laughed as you pushed her plate back towards her.

You couldn’t help but join in. Her laugh is tinkly like a fairy, contagious.

“Okay, alright, I won’t say anything else.” He raised his hands in surrender before going back to his food.

The rest of the meal went by quietly, ending with you spooning the girls' shared shake into separate cups.

Once dessert was had, it was bath time, resulting in your cheer camp t-shirt getting soaking wet.

“I am so sorry. Let me get you a shirt.” Gareth was red from embarrassment.

You, however, were still smiling. “Okay, Gare. I’ll get them dried off and changed, then I’ll come find you about the shirt.”

He nodded and left the bathroom.

“Are you my brother’s girlfriend?” Lori asked once she was sure Gareth was gone.

You giggled a bit and shook your head as you pulled her nightgown over her head. “No, baby doll, I’m not. We go to school together. He’s my friend.”

She nodded and her face twisted in thought. “Will you be his girlfriend?”

You gave her a soft smile. “Yeah, I hope so one day.” You winked at her before turning to help Clara into her nightgown. “Why don’t you girls go down stairs to the couch while I go find Gareth and change, hm?”

Lori nodded and took Clara’s hand to lead her away.

You sighed and pushed yourself from the floor.

It didn’t take much to figure out which door belonged to Gareth. He had various band stickers and drawings on the door. You knocked twice.

“Come in!” He called as he snagged his favorite Motley Crue shirt from the hanger. It may or may not have been for a fantasy he had not too long ago.

You opened the door and stepped in. “Hey, I sent the girls downstairs to get settled. Just came to grab the shirt. It’s starting to get a little chilly.” You chuckled at the end, leaning against the wall.

“Okay, great. Um, you can change here if you want. I can go get the movie ready.”

You nodded and stepped further into the room. “Yeah, thanks. I’ll be down in just a second.” You said taking the worn material from his hands. Once the door clicked closed you pulled your shirt over your head and unhooked your bra which was soaked through. You hoped the shirt would be big enough that the lack of bra wouldn’t be noticeable. What you didn’t think about though, was leaving the pile of damp clothes at the foot of the bed before walking out of the room and down stairs.

“Can I sit with you!” Lori yelled as she saw you finally descend the stairs.

“Of course, baby doll.” You smiled, glancing over at Gareth who managed to go a deep shade of red.

Maybe putting you into that shirt was one of his less than stellar ideas. His mind wandered back to the dream he had the other night of you, in the shirt, on top of him- He stopped his thoughts immediately before they became too much.

You settled next to him and let Lori climb into your lap as Gareth hit play on the Care Bears movie. You ran your fingers through the six year olds hair, eventually braiding it into a nice french braid before she fell asleep. You looked over to Clara who was dead asleep in Gareth’s lap.

He looked over at you and then up the stairs. “They won’t wake. They sleep pretty hard. Wanna take them up and get started?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” You smiled as you got a better grip on Lori. You followed Gareth up the stairs and pushed open Lori’s bedroom door. You laid her down gently in her princess bed sheets and covered her up before heading back to the hall to meet Gareth.

“You’re really good with them, you know.” He said, leading you back down the stairs and turning the light on.

“If I don’t go into art, I want to teach little ones.” You said, tucking a hair behind your ear.

“You could be the art teacher for the little ones.” Gareth offered. “Best of both worlds.”

“You’re so smart, you know that? That never crossed my mind.” You laughed a little, not believing you’d not thought of it before.

Gareth smiles as he bumped your shoulder. “Thanks. And when you do become an art teacher for little ones, make sure you credit me.” He winked before sitting on the floor at the coffee table.

You sat across from him, rolling your eyes at his joke. “I’ll put your name on the degree.” You said sarcastically as you pulled the questionnaire sheet from the spiral notebook.

Both of you took a second to look over the sheet before you spoke again.

“These are bullshit questions.” You said passively as you looked up from the bullet point asking ‘What is your partner’s favorite color.’

“Why do you say that?” He asked, putting his sheet down on the table.

You sighed and tapped your pen on your lip and you thought. “If I’m supposed to make an art piece based on you, what good is knowing your favorite food and color? I mean do I just draw a red cheeseburger? It’s so basic. Art is supposed to make you think. Make you feel something.” You emphasized before laying back on the floor.

Gareth laughed and scooted around to your side of the table to lay next to you. “You have a point, but how do you know my favorite color is red? I never told you.”

You turned your head to look at him rather than the ceiling. “I’ve lived 50 yards from you my whole life, we went to the same daycare, elementary, middle, and high school. Red is one of the few colors in your color palette. People don’t wear colors they don’t like.” You studied his face, taking in every freckle, every developing laugh line, every shade of blue and green in his eyes for the hundredth time, only this time you were much closer. It had much more of an effect on you.

“You’re very observant, you know.” His mouth ticked up into a lopsided smile as his eyes darted around your face.

“Which is you telling me that I’m right.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” He laughed this time, making you smile. “You’re not as oblivious as you present yourself as. Why do you do that?” His brows furrowed as he questioned you.

You shrugged, debating your answer for a moment. “I do what I have to in order to make it where I want to go. You present yourself as a dark, twisty guy who doesn’t care about anything, yet you’ve got smile lines and you’re amazingly sweet with your sisters. Why do you do that?” You challenged with a playful smile.

“Self preservation. I’m a weird kid and if I come off as someone who’s easy to mess with, life would be a whole lot worse. So I keep myself far away from the people who don’t deserve to know me.” He explained, his eyes holding a look that you couldn’t quite place.

Before you could stop yourself you asked, “Do I deserve to know you?”

His eyes that held your gaze flickered down to your lips and back up. “Yeah. Do I deserve to know you?”

You nodded, unable to resist the urge to reach over and rest your hand on the side of his face.

The moment was quiet, intimate, and gone far too quickly as his mom and stepdad came into the house.

“Gareth, whose car is in the drive-“ his mothers voice cut off as she walked in on the innocent scene because she could feel the tension between her son and the girl laying on the floor.

You snatched your hand away quickly and looked at the woman in the doorway, praying she wouldn’t berate you for being there.

“Mom. Hey. I told you Y/N was coming by for the art project.” He was red, not from a blush but from panic. His heartbeat was thundering in his ears so loud he thought it must have been audible.

She nodded and smirked. “Alright, well, carry on then.” She turned and walked into the kitchen where her husband was digging around in the pantry. “They’re going to get married. I’m calling it now.”

“Gwen, you can’t be serious. You haven’t even spoken to the girl.” He turned to look at her before glancing through the doorway to see the girl in question gathering her things.

“A mother knows.” She patted his chest and gave him the look. The look that said you-know-I’m-right.

Gareth walked with you out the door and to your car. “I’ll see you on Monday. Be careful.” He opened your door for you and watched you get in.

“If I wreck going three houses down the street, I probably don’t need a license.” You joked as you looked up at him, taking in the way the moonlight bounced off of the high points of his face.

“Be careful.” His tone was a bit more authoritative than before, making your insides turn.

“I will be.” You promised before smirking. “Do you want me to call you when I get there so you know I got in okay?” You teased lightly, making him roll his eyes.

“Just for that, I sure do. If my phone’s not ringing in 5 minutes I’m coming down there.” He was smiling, laughing at the way you scrunched up your nose at him before sticking your tongue out.

“Maybe I won’t call then.”

“Are you testing me?”

“I guess you’ll find out.”

“I guess I will.” He winked and closed the door to your car before walking towards the door. He stood there, watching you back out of the driveway thinking about how easy it was with you. It was easy to be himself. He finally went inside to wait for your call.

#gareth emerson #gareth the great #gareth x reader #Gareth Emerson x reader #gareth emerson fanfic #gareth emerson smut #Gareth Emerson fan fiction #stranger things fan fiction #stranger things #stranger things fan fict

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the-whispers-of-death · 13 days

Note

Do you have plans for any updates to pretend boyfriend!Gaz? I love the ones you’ve already written. ❤️☺️👏

- A Gay Gaz Lover 🫡

I wouldn't usually answer this, but I will because it's Gaz & I've had this idea for the next part in the Pretend Boyfriend!Gaz Drabble series but I've written it.

If you're new here and don't know the drabbles I'm talking about here, here is part one & part two.

CW: There's a creep, but Gaz gets him to leave you alone.

Since Thanksgiving, your family was begging for you to bring Gaz around for Christmas. You two talked about it and decided you'd continue the ruse, which made your heat race since you were falling in love with him.

You two were in a store, buying Christmas presents for your family. You were standing in the action figures section, looking for your younger brother's favorite character so you could give it to him for Christmas. You didn't truly know where Gaz was, but you figured he was in the next section, the candle section, looking for your oldest sister's favorite candle.

"Hello there," a man beside you said, his voice husky and clearly filled with flirtatious intent. "I don't usually approach strangers in a store, but you're just so breathtaking and I had to shoot my shot. I'd love to take you out for a date sometimes."

You gritted your teeth, hating the fact that this random man was hitting on you. "No thanks," you replied, thinking that was that.

You moved further down the aisle, trying to get far away from the man. But he followed after you, clearly not taking no for an answer.

"Aw, come on, don't be like that," the man said, catching up to you easily. He caught up enough to reach out and grab your wrist tight, stopping you in your tracks. "Why not give me a chance?"

"Let me go," you hissed, tugging your arm as you tried to get out of his grip. "Leave me alone!"

The man simply tightened his hold on your wrist, using his grip to pull you closer. "No, not until you tell me why you won't give me a chance. You'd be lucky to get a date with me."

You were about to respond, but you didn't need to because you saw the shadow of Gaz's figure before he appeared in your field of vision, appearing behind the man who could tell there was someone behind him.

"I suggest you let my partner go, because I won't ask you twice and you're no a match for me if we get into a fight," Gaz said, his usual snark gone from his voice and there was only anger there. He stood taller than the man in front of him, his brown eyes unusually cold.

You had seen him pissed off only a few times and yet, his anger didn't scare you. His anger, his protectiveness, it made you want to melt into him.

His anger did scare the man holding your wrist, however. The man let go of your wrist almost instantly, but he didn't leave. No, he whirled around to face Gaz and pretended he wasn't scared.

"Oh, you're their boyfriend, huh? They could do better than you," he sneered.

Gaz didn't blink at the insult. "Perhaps they could. But they definitely could do better than you, and they did. Hell, they deserve way more than even I can give them. So go, leave us."

He grabbed the man by the shirt and turned with the man in his hands, moving the man from where he was standing in front of you to behind you two. He pushed the man away, forcing him to retreat.

"Go on, go before I decide I really do want to get into a fight today. And learn to take the answer no at face-value, asshole."

The man seemed to take Gaz's words at heart, or he was too shocked and scared by how easily Gaz had picked him up and moved him aside like he was nothing but trash, because he left shortly after, leaving you two alone in the aisle.

You smiled at Gaz when he looked back at you. "Thank you for that," you said, breathing a sigh of relief now that the other man was gone. "You didn't have to use the ruse to get me out of the situation, though. I'm sure you could've gotten him to leave without saying you were my boyfriend, since you know, it's just a ruse. You didn't have to say that I deserve more than you can give me."

Gaz's brown eyes were softer now and he stepped closer towards you. "And what if it wasn't just a ruse? What if I actually meant what I said?" he asked, his voice soft like you would run away if he spoke any louder.

"Heh, but it was just a ruse," you replied, determined to think this was just your brain making signs where there was none. There was no way Gaz, your best friend, felt the same way about you than you felt about him. "You're not actually my boyfriend."

"I want to be," Gaz murmured, his hand reaching up to gently cup your cheek. He was so close to you that you could feel his breath hitting your cheek. "I didn't realize it until you asked me to pretend to be your boyfriend, didn't realize it until Thanksgiving when I met your family and spent the night sleeping beside you on that air mattress. It felt so right to tell your family how much I love you, how much I want to have a future with you."

He gently pulled you closer, his head ducked down slightly to brush his nose against yours. "I can't think about what my life will be like five years later without thinking about you right beside me. I crave you and I feel like I shouldn't because we're best friends. But you bewitched me, endeared yourself to my soul. I can't sleep a wink without dreaming of kissing you."

His words seemed breathless, like a weight was lifting off his chest by telling you all this.

"Please, if you don't feel the same, know that I will always love you and I can't lose you in my life. I'd watch you be with another if it meant I was still in your life, being warmed by the warmth of your smile. Nothing has to change if you don't feel the same."

"But things do have to change," you responded, making Gaz frown. But you continued on, "Because I feel the same. I want a future where we're together, happy and living a life side by side. My heart skips a beat thinking about you telling my father you love me. I need you in my life, Kyle."

"You'll have me, {Name}," Gaz said, a soft smile forming on his lips as he seemed relieved to know you felt the same way about him. "You'll have me for as long as you'll want me."

You couldn't help but to smile back at him. "What are the chances we'll kiss right here, right now?" you asked, half-joking.

Gaz tilted his head slightly, like he was about to kiss you. But he instead just rubbed your noses together. "As much as I want to," he murmured, "I want to take you out on a proper date before I kiss you."

Your smile grew wider at his words. He just couldn't help but be a gentleman.

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated! Asks are open, feel free to pop in and talk or request something! (SFW requests only, please and thank you)

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doumadono · 5 months

Note

hii it’s the twice & dabi anon again.

i’m sorry to ask for another emergency request but i’ve been having so much difficulty with my mom over the past year and a half, maybe two. it’s only been getting worse and now she doesn’t even talk to me. i only get updates from my little sisters and— oh my god it’s just horrible. i feel so bad that i had to leave them. but, i just couldn’t stay, you know?

could you maybe write something about twice & dabi comforting their partner/gf about the situation??

you don’t have to write for both!! either or is perfect!!

i just love the comfort you’re willing and able to provide. (even though you don’t have to. it’s truly heartwarming seeing you do this all. i really appreciate what you do.)

i really hope you’re doing well and taking good care of yourself. please be sure to eat properly and drink water!!

A/N: I'm really sorry to hear that you're going through such a difficult time. It's important to prioritize your well-being, and I hope things get better for you soon. Also, thank you so much for your kind words! Your appreciation means a lot. Even though I'm not doing well lately, I'll make sure to take care of myself. Wishing you all the best too! 🌟

EMERGENCY REQS MASTERLIST

Twice

Amid the chaos that permeated your mind, Jin Bubaigawara appeared with a boisterous greeting that momentarily broke the heavy silence that surrounded you. "Hey, babe! Twice is here to lift your spirits!" he declared with his characteristic energy, though his eyes held a genuine concern as he noticed the weight on your shoulders.

As you poured out the complexities of your strained relationship with your mom, Twice listened attentively, his empathy shining through. "Dang, that sounds tough. But you know what? You're strong for facing it head-on, I admire that," he remarked, his voice carrying a mix of reassurance and admiration.

He enveloped you in a tight hug, and his voice softened, "You did what you had to do for your own well-being. Don't beat yourself up about it." He pulled back, looking into your eyes. "You're not alone, okay? The League's got your back, and so do I."

Twice pondered, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Perhaps you'd like to engage in something? Not sure what exactly. Toga mentioned once that staying busy is beneficial - it keeps your mind from wandering into overthinking territory. And hey, if you ever need a clone to handle some mom-related drama, I got you covered. Double the trouble, double the fun!"

Dabi

The faint glow of Dabi's cigarette illuminated his face as he leaned against the wall, his stoic demeanor unwavering. "Come here, doll," he said, gesturing to the spot next to him.

As you recounted the painful saga of your relationship with your mom, Dabi listened in silence. When you finished, he took a slow drag of his cigarette before speaking. "Family can be a real mess, I know that. Sometimes, you gotta step back to save yourself."

He placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Leaving doesn't make you weak, ya know? It takes strength to break away from toxicity, in fact." His voice was low, carrying a raw honesty that resonated with your own emotions.

His long fingers traced soothing patterns on your back as he continued, "You're not alone in this. The past doesn't define you, and you're building a future for yourself, not for them, yeah?"

Dabi's lips curled into a smirk. "We're both well aware of the hell it is to deal with toxic nonsense within our own families. Parents messing up their own kids? That's a special kind of mess."

He lightly tapped your nose. "Take it easy, and find ways to keep that beautiful head of yours focused on other things. Overthinking is just a slow way to kill your own self. Don't let it consume you."

He extinguished the cigarette and looked directly into your eyes. "Just so ya know, if you ever need someone to lean on, I'm here. We're in this together."

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304blur · 26 days

Text

midnight blue ribbon. - k.tobio

synopsis: muggleborn siblings, (name) and tooru oikawa, were seperated by a divorce, (name), stayed with her father, starting her magic studies at ilvermorny, and her brother stayed home in england, studying at hogwarts. but somehow, her parents work it out, (name) would be a transferee at hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry. facing all sorts of new faces, and new obstacles. any obstacle, you would face head on, as long as the crow with a scroll of parchment tied shut by a midnight blue ribbon, keeps tapping at her dorm window.

warnings: foul language, suggestive jokes (of course, these are hormonal teens we're talking about.), fem reader

genres: fluff

notes: SORRY IF THE SYNOPSIS IS TOO LONG THIS STORY IS A LOT.. this is basically a movie-only harry potter fan makes a hogwarts au so sorry if i have misconceptions on how things work in the wizarding world. and for the sake of the story, oikawa and you are 6th years (both are 17), tobio is a 5th year (he's 16). also i have no idea how the dorm rooms will work so i'm freestyling, since j.k rowling did NOT mention anything about how many students there will be in 1 dorm room since how are there 5 gryffindor boys in their year..? this will start out as an experimental oneshot, and if i get asks to make this a series, i'll continue it! (with painfully slow updates), ALSO I'M FILIPINO I GREW UP WITH ENGLISH BEING A SECOND LANGUAGE SO IM SORRY IF I SCREW GRAMMAR STUFF UP!! definitions for unfamilliar creatures, potions and spells will be linked.

you thought silence was bearable. well, in fact, you loved silence, it gave you space to think, and relax. but the silence of sitting in the same compartment as your brother, tooru oikawa, is undoubtedly, uncomfortable. not because of the divorce of your parents, and so many years being apart, but because right in front of you, is a 17 year old tooru. he's grown taller than what you expected, and he's now a man. it's hard to find a topic that you'd think your brother would fully engage in a conversation for. you kept thinking of something to talk about, to break the silence, usually, siblings would chat casually, but you eventually forgot what it felt like having a brother. but before anyone in the room could speak, a group of three boys knocked on the glass sliding door of the train compartment, and welcomed themselves in. the boys are about your and your brother's age. a silver haired boy that's surprisingly tall and buff for a teenager makes himself home to the spot next to you, and the other two, a boy with brown hair and sharp green eyes and a boy with intentional bed hair and a cheeky smile sat at the spots next to tooru, sandwiching the poor guy between them.

"woah, that's rare of you to sit with some girl and not with us."

the one with the rooster hair spoke up, and slapped your brother's back with a little smirk, earning a pained groan from him. the others just snickered.

"heya, honey. i'm tetsuro kuroo, but you could call me yours."

he extends his hand to you, expecting a handshake.

"i'm—"

as you grab hold of kuroo's hand, tooru pinches him, forcing him to retract his hand.

"she's my sister, (name). and (name), the idiot next to you is kotaro bokuto, and this lad on my right is hajime iwaizumi."

tooru smiles at you, like it hasn't been years since you've seen eachother. the train engine makes its loud debut, the horns sounding, signalling that it's ready to go. the train departs the station, and your conversations with the 4 boys continue.

"well, if she's your sister, how come i've never seen her round the castle?"

bokuto examines your face with wide, curious eyes, and with a hand to his chin.

"that must be because her robes are blank. she's a transferee, i think."

iwaizumi just casually crosses his leg over to his other, and relaxes his back onto the cushion of the seat. kuroo smiled, he caught sight of the old trolley witch walking along with a cart filled with sweets, stood up, and bought something for himself. tooru had his head back, clearly fighting his sleepiness, bokuto on the other hand, is busy showing off his chocolate frog cards to you, but all the information just slipped your mind. kuroo returns to his seat, and hands you a cauldron cake in a small, colorful box.

"thought it'd only be right to give you a hogwarts welcoming gift."

you accept it gracefully. this guy's not so bad, not like his hair, at all. you space out, while looking at the box, and you smile at it like it's your first child.

all of the boys in your compartment, slowly fell asleep as time progresses on your trip to your new school. as the morning, turned into noon, nearing sunset. you got a little bored, and started to observe the students walking past your compartment. most were first years, with blank robes like you, exploring around. but one student caught your eyes. A boy with dark hair, slightly younger than you, angrily stomping around with a scowl on his face, a few black feathers flying out from.. wherever. you wondered, whatever could have caused that terrifying expression? but, you decided not to ponder on it a little more than that. you stayed awake the entire time so you could wake your brother and his friends just on time to hop off the train.

the train stopped at its one and only destination from king's cross; hogwarts. you woke the boys up, one by one.

"we're at hogwarts, get up everyone."

the four groaned, and eventually got up, to get off the train, with you following along. a giant man with an equally giant beard named hagrid, guided the students to where they needed to be. in a boat. honestly, it felt like you were in a can of sardines, since the boat you're on is filled with 17 year olds. you looked at the boat that's floating beside you, it's the guy who's running around with feathers up his ass, or something. he's a lot more charming, and a lot less scary than when you first saw him. sitting beside him, is a bright orange haired boy, you could've sworn you saw him as a big, spiky, floating tangerine that someone could've casted the levitation charm on in your peripheral vision. the orange little guy is bouncing around on the boat, causing little ripples to appear in the still water, an older silver haired boy that appears to be a seventh year, holds the boy down, in fear of the boat flipping upside down.

"they're a rowdy bunch, don't mind them, unless you'd love to lend an ear to their extensive, passionate talks about quidditch."

"i don't know about that, tetsu, that little shrimp there's pretty fun to talk to!"

bokuto waves at the boy he's talking about, getting a cheerful wave and a very loud "HELLO, BOKUTO!!" in return, before that same seventh year scolds him. kuroo notices you staring a liiiittle too long at a certain boy, that's now currently yelling at his.. friend? aquaintance? enemy? you don't even know. he chuckles, he's about to say something to tease you for staring, but he'll keep it to himself. for now, at least. the boats start moving towards the large marble castle, built atop an island. the boats dock at a safe spot for everyone to get off themselves, and the first years excitedly glance around, their eyes darting from place to place, with a sparkle of wonder in them. you were about to follow your brother and his best men directly into the great hall, but iwaizumi stops you.

"oh, uh. you're supposed to go with the first years. you haven't been sorted yet, so you'll go a bit later than we're going. and don't fret, transferees get sorted first, it'll be over within seconds."

you nod, and you nervously started to walk in the direction of the first years, nervously waving your new aquaintances, and your brother, goodbye. you follow the tiny children to a hallway, where bags, trunks, the cages and carriers of the students' pets are stacked, up some polished stone stairs, to a large door, which you assume is an entrance to the great hall. a witch stood there, presumably waiting for the first years. which would be the professor, stepped in front of the many tiny witches and wizards, you tower over them, making you stick out like a sore thumb.

"welcome to hogwarts. i am professor mcgonagall, the head of gryffindor house. now, in a few moments, you will pass through these doors, and join your classmates. before you take your seats, you will be sorted into one of four houses. they are gryffindor, hufflepuff, ravenclaw and slytherin..."

professor mcgonagall stood with a graceful, and dignified stature, and continued to explain about the house cup, and its point system, based on the behavior and achievements of the students of a hogwarts house.

"the sorting ceremony, will begin shortly."

she walks away, leaving to enter the great hall. while you wait, you keep yourself occupied with a chocolate frog card, that bokuto gave you earlier on the train while he talked about his full collection. it's a card of godric gryffindor. you were busy assessing the design of the card, when a little girl with a head of familliar orange hair, tugs at your robes.

"i see you have a godric gryffindor card! uh, can we trade? i have a helga hufflepuff one, if you're interested. i have 5 copies of her, so don't worry. i reaaaaally need that one to complete my hogwarts founder cards!"

you smiled, and you gladly accepted her trade offer.

"of course, i'll take you up on your offer. here you go."

she beams, and she takes the card out of your hands, and replaces it with one that's of helga hufflepuff.

"my name's natsu! if you ever have a card of merlin or of ollivander's, you can easily find me if you wanna trade some more!"

"well, i'm (name), i can't completely guarantee i'll get those cards, i'll at least make sure to expand my inventory."

you laughed, and natsu reminded you of your own tiny 11 year old self, cheerfully chatting with your classmates at ilvermorny. professor mcgonagall walks in again.

"we're ready for you now, please follow me."

the professor leads everyone through two large doors, which proceeds to the great hall, where there are four long tables, hundreds— no, maybe thousands of students are sitting at. floating candles dot the ceiling of the hall, you overhear a student talking about how the ceiling is bewitched to look like the night sky. you, and the first years are led to the front of the hall, facing all the hogwarts students in the tables of their respective houses, some looked bored, and didn't bother observing the sorting ceremony, others excitedly waited for their younger siblings to be sorted, and a few people looked interested in the older kid in a sea of first years. you turn to your other side, you saw a long table similar to the tables you've just seen, but a little shorter. there, sat several professors, and professor dumbledore. then your eyes lead you to a small stool, with a hat on it.

"all right, will you wait along here, please? now, before we begin, professor dumbledore would like to say a few words."

mcgonagall stepped aside, for everyone to see the wizard, rising from the main table. it was just something about the third floor being a dangerous place, and about the forbidden forest being.. well, forbidden.

"when i call your name, you will come forth, then you shall be sorted into your houses, but, first, i would like to make an announcement to.. all students."

professor mcgonagall walked up to the center, and talked with a stern, and booming voice, enough to be heard from the end of the great hall,

"before we begin the sorting ceremony of the first years, i would like to welcome a new student from ilvermorny, being a transfer student, i, and the staff of hogwarts, expect you to welcome her with open arms. now, will miss (name) oikawa step forward to have your house sorted?"

you gulped, as you sat on the stool, mcgonagall picks up the hat, and places it upon your head.

"now what have we here?"

the hat spoke. the hat spoke. and you thought your life was magical enough, now there's a talking hat, on your head.

"quite the interesting girl we have.. let me ask you, what house would you prefer to be in?"

"... never thought about it, sorry, sorting hat."

"would you walk a path you create for yourself, or would you walk on the path that others paved for you?"

"... i would rather walk the path i create myself, i guess."

"you'll be great in.. hufflepuff!"

the students clapped, and mcgonagall pointed at the hufflepuff table, for you to know where you now belong. you stared at the helga hufflepuff card you traded your gryffindor card for. would this be some funny coincidence? you sat down at the table, and you were sat beside a blonde girl with hazel eyes, and a boy with long hair, tied into a bun, and facial hair. he oddly looks like an adult.

"i know what you're thinking, with the facial hair, stature, i know. i'm asahi, i'm a seventh year. nice to meet you, and welcome to hufflepuff."

he took your hand, and shook it.

"nice to meet you too!"

you felt like he was easy to talk to, despite his intimidating features.

"and i'm hitoka..!"

the girl beside you, yelled a little too loudly, and students from other tables turned their heads at her. she quickly sits down, and slams her head against the wooden table.

"oh my god, are you okay?"

you panicked, and put your hand on her shoulder, to make sure she's okay.

"god, that was embarassing!"

asahi, from beside you, sighs, and quietly pulls out his wand, and conjures up a spell.

"glacius."

the tip of his wand glowed a cool white, a small blizzard of snowflakes clustered up together, the cold breeze rushing into a cup, freezing the water, and they turn into ice cubes. the silver haired older kid you saw earlier while you were in a boat, quickly pulls out a handkerchief, flattens it onto the table on your side.

"wingardium leviosa."

asahi casts the levitation charm on the ice cubes in the cup, the ice floating seamlessly in the air. asahi lowers it down onto the small cloth that was laid down. he wraps it up, and hands it to the young girl beside you.

"you do this every year, hitoka, that head slamming's gonna turn you dumb, you've already earned a p in your defence against the dark arts o.w.l's!"

"that's because i missed studying for that! i was taking extra classes and i had too much on my hands!"

that same silver haired guy held genuine concern for hitoka, sort of like tough love from a mother. the blonde groans, the faint bruise on her forehead is already embarrassing enough to deal with, but it hurts like hell.

"if you're wondering, the student that is incredibly infuriated, yet worried about poor hitoka beside you, is koshi sugawara, the hufflepuff house prefect and head boy."

asahi introduces you to the student. he's quite the charmer, his face sort of looks.. refreshing. sugawara smiles at you, and opens his mouth to say,

"hitoka's fine, she's always gets like this whenever she meets someone new. last year, she's knocked down a full cauldron of draught of living death, onto a gryffindor student, yu nishinoya. she was partnered with him in potions class. it melted through his robes, and i had to help a prefect carry him to the hospital wing."

sugawara grimaces, remembering the time the potion melted a hole through his robes, and lightly burned nishinoya's skin. the sorting ceremony concluded, and the feast begins. silver platters filled with all kinds of food, suddenly appear at the students' house tables. you, of course, picked your favorites from them, you hear really aggressive muffled yelling from the gryffindor table. you raised you head from your food, and to the source of the commotion, that same duo from the boat, were eating really fast. that feathery, dark haired boy was eating fast, but he gives time to chew, and not look like a mess. meanwhile, the ginger that sat beside him, energetically stuffed his cheeks to the brim with all kinds of food, stacking platters upon platters.

"how the hell does hinata not get a stomachache after his eating competitions with kageyama? i'd immediately surrender within 7 full plates.."

asahi, sort of looked sick. though, you agree with what he said. you can eat no more than a few plates before feeling sick from being full, and begging for the food to digest faster.

"all that food, and none of that goes to his height."

you saw a blonde boy with a brown undercut at the slytherin table, snicker at the two, a boy with grey hair, and the same undercut that looks exactly the same as him, just doesn't bother looking at the two.

"atsumu miya, and his twin brother, osamu. they're slight assholes— actually, maybe a little more that slight, if there's a word for that. atsumu is a loud asshole, and osamu is just a little more discreet about his assholeyness, you know? but they're tooootally monsters at quidditch. maybe them being mean little dudes give them an advantage. oh! and i'm satori tendo, by the way! nice to meet a student from ilvermorny!"

another spiky haired student appears in front of you. and you'd be convinced if someone told you that hogwarts is a magnet for people with weird hair. you just smiled, and shook hands with the guy.

"also, oikawa? would that mean that you'd be the sister of mr. freaky pleasant face?"

tendo squints at you and tilts his head.

"mr. freaky pleasant face? does tooru hook up with girls or something?"

at the mention of his name, your brother turns to your table. he's a slytherin, so he's quite close to where you are.

"no, i do NOT get into those kinds of activities."

he defends himself with a sure and stern voice. and he glares at tendo, the look on his face saying 'if you say anything that's weird and absolutely untrue to my sister, i'll smash your face in with a quaffle.'

"well, he does have lots of girls pining after him, it'd only make sense if he'd done that with some of them. also, hey (name)! shame you're a hufflepuff, i would've loved showing you around the common room."

kuroo waves at you with a stupid smile, but immediately drops it when tooru elbows him in his sides.

"well, that's that."

tendo giggles a little at the situation. later, your house prefect leads you and the new hufflepuff residents to your dorms. sugawara suggests that you should be beside him, so you don't accidentally bump into a shorter first year. your group of hufflepuffs are lead to an underground passageway, the basement of the castle, decorated with lots of paintings of food.

"the paintings are there, 'cause the kitchens and the hufflepuff dorms are kind of in the same corridor."

sugawara says, beside you. this passageway is lit warmly, with torches. despite this being a basement, it gives off the most homely energy. you could hear the house elves behind the shut castle kitchen's doors chatter, and prepare recipes that could possibly be for tomorrow's breakfast. you could smell the familliar scent of baked goods wafting into your nose.

"other students drop by the dorms and common room regularly. it's pretty comfortable, and it feels like home. not just to hufflepuffs, but to all hogwarts students."

sugawara then stops in front of a circle door, framed by pretty vines, a pile of large barrels were stacked in a shadowy recess on the right-hand-side of the corridor. sugawara tapped on the barrel two from the bottom, a barrel middle of the second row in a rhythm that sounds similar to the name of the hufflepuff founder, 'helga hufflepuff'. the lid of the barrel swung open, and sugawara turns to all of you.

"(name), you go first, then i follow. the rest of you first-years, just follow along with us please."

"do i.. crawl through?"

"what else would you do? now go ahead."

you gulped, and entered the barrel, crawling along the sloping, earthy passage that seemed to travel upwards, revealing the common room, in its cozy, yellow glory. the hufflepuff common room is said to 'always feel sunny'. and it really does. no wonder why people love this place, the place has circular windows, that have a view of a vast land of grass and dandelions, the room is just the perfect place to be, the smell from the kitchens are making this place even cozier. there are interesting looking plants, their pots, hanging from the ceiling. sugawara snaps all of you out of your awe, and reminds you that you're here to look at where you'll be sleeping for your stay at hogwarts. the dormitories are reached through round doors in the common room. he opens the dormitory doors, to a stone staircase, one end, spiraling downstairs, and one end for upstairs.

"girl's dorms are up there, boy's dorms are down here. your belongings should've already been brought to your dorms. if there's anything missing, or if there's a mix-up in anything, let me know, and i'll help."

sugawara gestures you up to the girl's dorm, where you find that the dormitory is actually a tower, dorms seperated by years. the sixth years are on the sixth floor, so you head up there, alone. you arrived at what you assumed to be the sixth year girls dorms, there are several circular doors for you to go through, but luckily, there are names on small wooden planks for students and their roommates. you enter the dorm with your name on a plank, and only one other student. 'yui michimiya'. you immediately spot your cat, in her carrier. she must've waited for you, beside your own luggage and trunks, all this time. you immediately free your cat from her confines, and set down her food & water bowl. you notice that your roommate's immediately tucked in for the night, dozing off in her bed.. the lights were dimmed down to adjust to the night. someone knocks on your dorm door. you get up, to open it, and there standing before you, is sugawara.

"madam sprout wants you to be in the common room with the first years, it's mandatory. she'll just hand you the timetable schedules, and some guidelines, and the history of hufflepuff, and what not. i'm sure you already know your way, so i'll just head down to the boys dorms."

he smiles with his lips, and moves out of the way, his arms leading you out of your dorm room, sort of like a 'ladies first' gesture, and you make your way down first, and opening the door connecting the dormitories to the common room. there, you find around 10 first years, the amount of hufflepuff girls and boys split evenly into a 5:5 ratio, sat on the many couches and chairs. you make your way to an empty solo couch, and madam sprout clears her throat to turn the chattering students' attention to her.

"first years, i'm your head of house, madam sprout, and i'd like to welcome to your house, hufflepuff! now, before we go on to hand out your timetables for class, let's go over a brief introduction to the founding of the hufflepuff house, and helga hufflepuff's role in founding hogwarts."

she did exactly what she said, and touched on the topics she mentioned.

"helga hufflepuff was one of four founders of hogwarts, while the other founders, godric gryffindor, salazar slytherin and even rowena ravenclaw chose their favorites or, 'special students', helga hufflepuff accepts all witches and wizards of all backgrounds, whether you'd be a muggle, a pureblood, or a halfblood."

you were trying not to fall asleep immediately, but once the short history lesson ended, she handed everybody their set class timetables. the first years have transfiguration in the morning, and you have potions. madam sprout dismisses all of you, and you and the 5 other hufflepuff girls head into the girls dorm tower, and tucked in for the night. you quietly open your dorm door, careful not to wake your roommate, and you changed into a nightgown, a sleeping garment you thought was corny, but your dad insisted getting you lots of elegant nightgowns, as hogwarts is a castle, and you're a lady, and you'll fit right in like a character from a fairytale. well, he's certainly right about that, looking at yourself in the mirror, it felt sort of awkward, but it also felt right. being a student in a gorgeous historical castle wouldn't be that bad. and with those thoughts, you head straight to bed.

you jolt awake from the sound of metal dropping. you blink your eyes, to adjust to the sunlight, shining from the dorm windows, and you see.. your roommate. yui michimiya. she bent down on the floor, not noticing you, already awake. she picked up what seems to be her ring from the floor with a subtle smile, and proceeds to turn in your direction, and lands her eyes on you, with a shriek.

"good morning.."

you waved at her, a yawn accompanying your morning greetings. what a great first impression. you looked at your pocket watch. 5:24 am.

"merlin, you scared me!"

michimiya puts her hand to her chest, with a slouched pose to make it look like she's seen enough of things that scared her.

"i'm yui, i'm pretty sure you've seen the name on the.. thing?"

she adjusts her tie.

"uh, yeah. why are you up so early? don't classes start at 8?"

"oh, uh, i usually go for a morning stroll, but you could also take that time to freshen up, eat breakfast, and stuff.. sorry if i'm not a good hogwarts tour guide, i just have a lot going on. sugawara usually wakes up earlier than everyone, so he must be in the common room. you could ask him!"

michimiya quickly dashes outside. i wonder what's gotten her like that? you decide to change into some new robes, and get ready for the day.. and maybe make a stop at the kitchens for toast. you adjust your yellow and black tie in the mirror, eyes lingering on the hufflepuff patch on your robes. your first day in hogwarts, ever. you grab your leather book bag, not bothering to check what's in it and you head to the common room, to find michimiya, chatting with an older student in the same house, their fingers interlocking, and they look.. very in-love. you thought she went for a stroll.. but you'd rather not think on it. you find sugawara, on the common room couch by the fireplace, reading a book. he turns to you and he waves.

"good morning, (name)! heading to the great hall for breakfast? i'll come with you."

"i thought i'd need a good meal before doing anything."

sugawara chuckles, and guides you out of the common rooms, from the passageway, to the great hall. only a few students are eating, after all, it's only the beginning of the breakfast hours. sugawara leads you a table where his friends are sitting at. this time, the houses aren't divided by tables, but students are free to come and go from one table to another. you are sat at the gryffindor table, a house where majority of sugawara's friends are in.

"yooo suga!"

a loud student with a small stature greeted sugawara.

"oh, (name), this is uh, nishinoya."

"is.. is that the draught of living death guy?"

"ah, well, yes."

sugawara awkwardly scratches the back of his neck, since nishinoya's pretty embarrased about that incident.

"it's the transferee girl! i'm shoyo hinata, transferees are pretty rare around here. what's ilvermorny like? is the food different?"

the boy with a meadow of orange on his head eagerly asked you so many questions, and his friend pulls him down onto the bench by the robes.

"can't you stay still for a second? don't ask questions all the sudden."

"and this grump over here is tobio kageyama."

hinata pointed at the guy he was referring to. you looked over at him, and you waved with a friendly smile. he just.. didn't wave back? or say anything? he just stiffens and doesn't spare you a glance. sugawara looked at him with a knowing smirk.

"don't tell me.."

hinata looks at the both of them, confused, nishinoya deciding he'll keep to himself, his mouth is busy chewing his food anyway. the gryffindor's breakfast table sort of looked like a buffet, with a spread of all sorts of breakfast food. you let out an awkward sounding fake laugh, then grabbed some toast, and other stuff you like, and you ate your food, in silence.

"where's kei? thought he'd escape bokuto asking for homework answers."

the words of nishinoya's question were muffled, since he stuffed his face with seemingly one of all the food on the table.

"asking? that's borderline harrassment."

sugawara directs his head to a cheery bokuto asking all sorts of questions to an amazingly tall boy, with blonde hair and glasses and a blank face across the great hall, at the ravenclaw table. he makes his way to the gryffindor table, with bokuto sticking to him like glue.

"hey, hey, hey! it's (name)!"

he walks behind you and ruffles your hair. the beanpole sits next to you, and quietly continues eating, silently sending an apology to you, hoping that bokuto's attention would be diverted from him.

"hey, could you ask tooru if he's doing well in any of the subjects? i want him to catch me up on anything."

"oh, sure! nice to see ya again, and enjoy your first day (name)!"

you waved bokuto goodbye, and sighed. you liked his prescence, but you needed a little chill today.

"that was smart."

"thanks..? uh.."

the guy beside you praised your efforts at driving bokuto away, the ravenclaw notices how you were about to call him by name, but you don't even know it.

"kei. kei tsukishima."

"oh, uh. thanks, kei, i'm (name)."

he nods, and continues poking at the fried chicken on his plate with his fork. wow, this guy's pretty hard to talk to. sugawara leans in closer to your ear and says,

"don't worry about him, he's not used to interaction with girls, same with kageyama."

sugawara chuckles, he's a pretty good guide. after you were finished with eating (and chatting with all of gryffindor), you stood up, and pulled out a piece of parchment with your class schedule on it. you had a potions class at seven, it's now currently 6:47 am. you figured you'd get to class early. sugawara, tsukishima, hinata, nishinoya and kageyama got up with you too, all of them, except sugawara going ahead, it's just kageyama lagging behind the group.

"sugawara, could you show me where the potions classes are?"

"oh, i have divination, and i need to get there fast.. hmm.. oh! tobio has potions next, he could show you. tobio!"

he called out to the boy, and he came jogging back, with a menacing look on his face. scary.

"could you lead her to the potions classroom? i have divination, i'll think of something to pay you back!"

he froze up, again. does he really not like you? or is he just like that because you're an older girl?

"... sure."

"i'm counting on you, thanks, dude!"

sugawara ran to the exit of the great hall, waving to the two of you behind him. now, it's just you and mr. girl anxiety. he turns to you with a weird face.

"f..follow me."

merlin, his talking game with women is at rock bottom. compared to your brother, who could charm people to his advantage, this guy's charisma is abysmal. hopefully, he grows out of it. you apologise to him in your head for straight up insulting him. well, maybe his awkwardness is his charm. you two started walking out of the great hall. you're having trouble keeping up, since this guy makes crazy strides with his long legs. you were panting just from trying to keep up with him.

"w—"

you inhale, exhale.

"wait! merlin, you're fast."

he freezes in his steps. you were leaning on the stone walls, sitting on the dusty floor, just resting. he realizes he was walking too fast, and extends his hand towards you, averting his gaze.

"sorry. but we'd best not be late, i'll.. i'll walk a little slower this time."

looking up at him from this angle, he's bloody gorgeous. dark hair, eyes the color of the deepest parts of the ocean, you're almost tempted to dive in. his lips turning into a subtle pout, his unbelievably perfect eyebrows furrowed, disappointed by his mistake. you sigh, and get up, with the assistance of your grip on his hand.

"it's okay."

and this time, he adjusts to your pace perfectly, like you're walking with a reflection of yourself. freaky. you arrive at your classroom, and you enter, to be greeted by the sights of a low ceiling, shelves filled with potions, cauldrons, all sorts of glassware and equipment, and potion ingredients, students bringing out their books and their own cauldrons. professor snape turns his head, he stares down at the both of you, an intimidating energy emitting from him. but really, it's just him applauding the transferee for being early, usually new students would get lost inside the castle before they could make it to class. your wise decision to ask to get someone to lead you to the right place saved you from embarassment on your first day.

kageyama taps your shoulder, pointing at the cauldrons on the shelf. you had your cauldron in your trunk, and somehow its' whisked itself out of it and put neatly on the potions classroom's shelves. you both grab your respective cauldrons and found a table where you could make potions in peace, in the back. kageyama pulls out a chair for you to sit in, and made himself comfortable on the stool beside you. that's kind of him. you looked at the boy beside you, he has his book of advanced potions out, so you grab your book bag, and looked inside. your herbology book, history of magic, DADA and astronomy book were all in there, but.. you realize that you forgot your potions textbook. you look for professor snape in the room, maybe he has a spare book! but, he's quite scary to talk to, so asking him for a spare is crossed out on the list. so you turn to the only option left.

"uh, hey, tobio. could you share the book? i forgot mine back at the dorms, i wanna do some light reading."

"yeah, it's alright, i guess.."

he slides the textbook in your direction.

"don't you need it too?"

"yeah, but i don't find it to be necessary reading before class."

ouch, was that a jab at your habit of reviewing, or is he just this honest? he really doesn't sugarcoat things. you quietly open the book so you could read. suddenly, kageyama places his two long fingers onto the paper of the book, and gently moves it a little towards him. and under his breath, he mumbles,

"i guess i could use some reading."

odd. that's odd. he said that he didn't like reviewing before class, but now he's doing it. pick a struggle, man. you move your chair closer to his, so you could see better. your arms were touching at this distance. kageyama let out a quiet grunt, his eyes narrowing at the words printed onto the paper, his eyebrows furrowing in what seemed to be frustration, his cheeks blooming into the subtlest pink. if he's that bothered just by reading, why'd he volunteer to read with you anyways? a few minutes pass by, and class begins, kageyama pulling his eyes away from the book, and sighed in relief. snape warned every student in his class that 'there will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class.' and taking turns asking every student questions, including kageyama and you.

"where would you look if you were to find me a bezoar?"

"i— uh.."

kageyama aggressively flips the pages of his advanced potions book, but snape slams the book shut, almost trapping kageyama's whole hand in there, if it weren't for his reflexes.

"take this seriously, mr. kageyama. where. would. you. find. me. a. bezoar?"

"uh.. something about a goat stomach."

"so close, yet so far. you, new student. where would you find a bezoar?"

you jolted, and pointed at yourself with wide eyes and raised eyebrows.

"who else in this room would i ask?"

"uh— a bezoar is a stone in a goat's stomach.. that can save you from.. almost any poisons?"

"end that sentence with a period, ms. oikawa. but alas, you are correct. five points to.. hufflepuff, and for that poor answer from mr. kageyama, five points will be taken from gryffindor."

snape narrows his eyes at you, before proceeding to continue with his lessons. you put your hand on where your heart would rest, currently beating as fast as a zouwu. and about as fast as a zouwu, the classes end, leaving students with free time after dinner. there was a windstorm earlier today, and the owl post was delayed until tomorrow afternoon. you're just strolling with kageyama and hinata, the carrothead wanted to show you the gryffindor seeker and the gryffindor beater's skills at the quidditch field, and you were making your way there, but a pretty girl with glasses comes up to the three of you, and hands you a poster for a stargazing event to welcome new and senior students to hogwarts.

"you guys should check out if you're interested! now, i've gotta go pass these on to the others!"

the girl ran, she ran at impressive speeds, like she was born to be a track athlete. you stared at the poster in your hands, the two boys peering behind you to see what's up.

'stargazing event for old and new students at 9:00 pm to 10:30 pm at the astronomy tower. food catered by the house elves! (professors agreed to let us do this.)'

there was an enchanted moving picture below the text, the stars were shooting across the night sky, above hogwarts. despite looking so hastily printed, it's still quite impressive. hinata showed amusement and showed amusement at the poster and the upcoming event that happens in an hour.

"ooh.. seems cool! wanna go, kageyama?"

"that's stupi—"

"i'd like to go, free food is free food."

you shrugged, hinata nodded and threw finger guns your way, and anticipated an answer from the boy with hair colored like the night sky.

"... free food wouldn't be so bad."

hinata quite literally jumped for joy, and you three decided to pass the time by slowly strolling to the astronomy tower, since you're pretty far from it, seeing as you're near the greenhouses. you continued talking to both of them, but you notice kageyama stop in his tracks, and he looks up at the both of you.

"i think i forgot something, i'll go back to the divination classroom, i think i'll make it on time if i ever find it immediately, you go on ahead."

as much as kageyama hates being left behind by his rival and friend, hinata, this time he strangely decides to not come along.

"well, you're gonna miss out on everything, since you couldn't even find your quill when you placed it under your book."

hinata commented. he was referencing to the transfiguration class earlier that afternoon, when professor mcgonagall wanted us to take notes, but kageyama couldn't find his quill.

"oh, fuck off."

kageyama huffed, and jogged straight for the divination classroom. when the time came, you were at the charms classroom's entrance, near the astronomy tower. there were already lots of students by the time you got there. hinata's eyes sparkled at how pretty the entrance of the astronomy tower looked. there were floating lanterns, with balls of light that looked like stars in them, and bright ravenclaw blue ribbons and sashes hanging above the entrance. the students seemed to have dates or have brought their romantic partners along. you see familiar faces, like the slytherin twins from earlier, atsumu and osamu miya, with gorgeous girls from the houses of gryffindor and ravenclaw, even kuroo, with a boy that looked like a girl, with short bob hair that looked to be dyed blonde, as the roots of his hair were black. he seemed to be best friends with him, he seemed disinterested in the astronomy event as a whole, since he's just reading.

"woah, good job, g.g.g!'

hinata said, with an impressed voice and crossed arms.

"g.g.g? what's that?"

"gorgeous glasses girl! y'know the girl from earlier?"

you laughed, hinata's got such a creative mind, making all sorts of remarks here and there. kuroo waved and greeted you with a smile, dragging the poor ravenclaw along, the boy grimaces, as kuroo takes his book, and sort of 'confiscates' it.

"heyy, (name)! and of course, hello, shrimpy."

at the mention of the nickname 'shrimpy', the boy beside him, became a little less disinterested, his scowl transforming into a blank face, his eyes sparkling in interest juuuust a little at hinata. you're willing to bet they're really close. hinata wraps his arm around the two tone haired boy's shoulders, and they continue chatting about quidditch, quidditch teams, and if he (pudding head) will continue being a seeker after suffering a major injury. it seems that the pudding haired boy broke his arm in his last quidditch match, and it hit his motivation really badly. but then, it hits you, hinata's distracted, and he's slowly walking toward the astronomy tower without you.

"hey, hinata! hey— ugh, it's no use, he's incredibly distracted."

"haha, when they're talking, especially if they haven't seen eachother in so long, it's almost like they're in their own world."

kuroo crossed his arms, and watched them walk away.

"besides, you've got me now! i'm interesting to talk to, y'know!"

"you're interesting when you're interesting, and that's not right now."

"ouch."

inside the tower, there were tables with roll-top chafing dishes in all shapes, similar to a muggle buffet. the food ranged from salads, pastries, meat dishes, desserts and drinks. the students were at the astronomy tower's railings, admiring the stars, there were a group of students who volunteered to sing on a built stage, dressed in shiny suits and dresses, singing songs in the genre of 'bossa nova'. kuroo had acompanied you in the tower, talking, or rather, complaining about how your brother's a little too charming for his tastes, and about how he's using that charm to weasel away from trouble, and left the blame onto him or his friends. well, that didn't sound uncharacteristic of him, you're speaking from experience, you didn't even bother to resonate with him since it's not like you've never tried to flutter your eyelashes a bit too hard to get yourself out of trouble. like brother, like sister.

but kuroo got a little caught up in the small crowd of his admirers, immediately healing his ego, and let you 'go on ahead'. you're fine with him just talking to someone and staying beside him, but this is still about the third time this has happened that evening. your mind wandered to the location of kageyama, and if he managed to find the item he's searching for, while swishing the party punch you've got in a glass, in your hands. some guys tried to get your attention, but you didn't bother. later, most of the girls in the room with you suddenly squealed. your brother, was fashionably late as usual. 'the best man in the room always comes late.' he always said that as an excuse when he's late for dinner, when he really just was snooping around your mum and dad's stuff from their time at hogwarts. oikawa approaches you, but you notice he has no partner. you look at him, confused.

"thought i'd show some decency and make a good impression on you."

"so you're only indecent when i'm.. not around?"

your brother hisses, obviously embarassed by how you took his words, but he knows you like to joke around.

"i'm surprised you're not in slytherin, seeing how your comments are."

"well, i know my limits."

"you know, we haven't had a proper conversation the entire day."

"i mean, i was busy with adjusting to a new environment."

he nods. then, from his robe's pockets, he takes out a box, one that's old, the printed red color on it is cracked, and he placed it in your hands.

"what's this?"

"the thing you gave me before you left with dad. you told me to return it to you when we meet again, but i couldn't find the right time to."

you look down at the box, and opened it. the specially enchanted mokeskin pouch that your parents had enchanted to share between yourselves, and a note, containing the promise of returning the box to you. you take out the pouch, and you opened it, inside was pictures of the two of you with your parents on vacation in romania, your mother's color changing gloves, and the invisible ink you bought with your first allowance of 40 galleons. your eyes softened at the items, and the memories that came with them, and you looked up at your brother with an emotional face.

"i thought you forgot."

"i certainly almost did."

you were slowly getting used to talking to your brother again, and it felt so warm being with family in an unfamiliar place. you look around, craning your neck to sort out a person in the crowd of red, yellow, green and blue.

"who are you looking for? you have a date or something, eh? eeeehhh?"

your brother squints his eyes at you, curious of who was able to convince his sister, despite your comfortable and chill personality, you usually refuse any advances that involve outright flirting.

"excuse you, i don't have one. just a friend i'm waiting for."

"that's exactly how it sounds like. a date."

"do you actually know what a date is?"

"you're asking the right person!"

you waved violently once you spotted the person you were waiting for—

"tobio kageyama! over here!"

"his full legal name, and everything. also, kageyama? that guy's your date?"

you lower your hand, once kageyama sees you, he was coming towards the both of you, then backs away a little bit once he sees oikawa.

"tobio, it's fine, just pretend he doesn't exist, did you ever find what you were looking for?"

"hey, you're not answering me!"

"oh, good evening, uhm, oikawa..? i never managed to find anything, so i'll have to continue looking before curfew."

"just call me (name), we're both oikawa, so it's kind of weird."

kageyama nods, but the tall toddler next to you is just looking between the gryffindor, and you. sort of like a 'what's your relationship with him???' you completely block your brother's prescence from your sight. he notices, and with a huff, he pushes the two of you away from eachother.

"you ought to stop.. being so.. so... frivolous!"

the chocolate haired boy you call your only sibling, sternly yells, and glares at the both of you, the other students glancing your way.

"what was that for?"

"it's almost to 10:30, so you two best be off to bed in your seperare houses, no boy and girl action shall happen between you kids, you hear?"

"hey, i was born 20 minutes earlier than you, you have no right to tell me what my bedtime is and the professors clearly allowed us to stay up past curf—"

the 20 minute younger oikawa sibling pushes both you and kageyama out of the astronomy tower, from the top, down the stairs, complaining about how he's acting like the older sibling, quite embarassing being babied by your younger by a few minutes brother. he heads back up and on his way up the stairs, he kept glancing at the both of you.

"he's weird."

kageyama remarked. you had nothing to say but you just gave him a nod to say that you definitely agree.

"should we go back up?"

kageyama looked down at you.

"no, i'm pretty sure tooru will stop us."

"fair point, i think that the professors might show up to interrupt to make sure that the party ends by 10:30."

he shrugged. at this point, you two were pretty tired.

"i'll just go to bed then, it's better if i sleep early anyways."

you raised your hand for a moment and dropped it, a lazy goodbye to the gryffindor behind you. but he calls out your name.

"(name)!"

you turn to the boy, a short distance seperates you two. you hummed to acknowledge his calling.

"i, uh.. isn't it rude to let a girl walk alone?"

"no? i don't think it is."

"oh, uhm, see you tomorrow.."

his cheeks were dusted with a light pink, and just awkwardly waved, and he walked in the seperate direction. weird. but you unknowingly turned down kageyama's very vague offer to walk you to your house's common room.

after a long walk from the astronomy tower to the hufflepuff girls dorms, you flop onto your bed, uniform still on, you're not even bothering to change into a nightgown. you rolled around in the sheets for a while, waiting for your eyes to feel heavy and fall asleep while practicing the spells of 'nox' and 'lumos'. the light flickers from the tip of your wand, as you say the required words for the spell to work, you were getting sleepy, your hand slowly letting go of your wand. before it slips through as your hands relax, a loud tap is heard on the glass of your window. you simply dismiss it. then, a louder tap echoes through the room, waking you up.

"oh, merlin's beard! what is that sound!?"

you drag yourself from your bed and assessed the window, the glass has been shaped, and you could barely make up what's outside. all you know is that the culprit of the window tapping is round. you open your window, to see a crow. a very beautiful one, its beak was holding onto a teeny tiny roll of parchment, a cloth rolled into it with very familliar patterns, tied shut into a neat bow, by a midnight blue silk ribbon.

"you got a message for me, little guy?"

you hold out your hand, so it can just drop it onto there and go back to its owner. it did, but it never left your side. you unroll the piece of paper, revealing the hankerchief your mother gave you before you went to america with your dad. the paper under it reads;

'you dropped this, be careful of your belongings.'

and nothing else was attatched. you were wondering why the crow wouldn't leave when messenger birds were usually trained to leave immediately after someone recieves something they brought. you squint at the object reteurned to you, and you look through your pockets to find they were empty. so you really dropped it.

"thank you, feathery friend. you can leave, but before you do.."

you tied the ribbon included with your missing hankerchief onto its neck, and the bird flew away. 'what a strange bird.' you thought. and you decided that was a sign for you to change into your nightgown and not sleep in your uniform.

the next day wasn't so bad, you were a little more familliar with the layout of the school, though you almost were late to charms class. speaking of charms, you just finished the class, and all of you were dismissed by professor flitwick early, since he figured that the next lesson would be too much to fit into one class. you had actually befriended the boys that you sat next to, the miya twins, though they were not your type of people, they were easy to get along with. one of your favorite moments in your first charms class would be when professor flitwick asked if you could magically persuade a pineapple to dance off your desk, and the miya twins just blasted their pineapples off the desk.

"well, professor, ya did say that we'd have 'ta get the pineapples off our desks, magically!" atsumu argued.

"and they did spin 'round a little.. wouldn't that count as a dance?" osamu backed his brother up.

"no, you blasted it using flipendo, and they didn't dance. two points from slytherin."

you chuckled to yourself at their ridiculous behavior. you felt a finger tap at your right shoulder, you turned, there was nothing there, then at your left, still nothing. you frantically turn and find the miya twins snickering at you.

"heya, pretty! ya ready for some lunch? we got great people to introduce ya to at our table!"

atsumu wrapped his arm around your shoulder. but osamu just stays by your side, students pass by, heading to the great hall or talking to their friends. you smile at atsumu, but in the distance behind him, was kageyama, with messed up hair, and a very disappointed professor mcgonagall scolding him for missing transfiguration, while on his way to the great hall. you look at him, he's pretty fucked up looking. his necktie isn't even tied, and he forgot one of his socks. then you notice, a silky, shiny blue ribbon, tied to his pinky finger. that very same midnight blue ribbon that you tied to the crow last night.

".. what the.."

SURPRISE HAPPY APRIL FOOLS I PRABKED U I ACTUALLY FINISHED THIS WAHAHAHAHA

#haikyuu #hq x reader #kageyama tobio #kageyama x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyu fluff #haikyuu oneshot #oneshot #fanfic #kageyama haikyuu #hogwarts au #harry potter au

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