#Luke does with the same ease he breathes

[ilycosy]

❝ PERFECTION ❞ | LUKE CASTELLAN

pairing : luke castellan x daughter of aphrodite!reader

summary — being a child of aphrodite deems you perfect from the moment you get claimed, the expection of complete and utter perfection can weigh down on somebody. somehow, a simple hermes boy reaches all those expectations without even trying.

warnings : hurt/comfort but it's platonic , this takes place in noted , luke is a cocky dumbass & reader is heavily implied to be autistic

aﾉn — first fic for noted !! the smau is being worked on l8r since im a little exhausted n not feeling well again but , i have this to hold u guys over <3 + some smut in drafts :33 every1 say thank u kai for proofreading this <33 @grsveyrrd

you couldn't remember the last time you felt at ease, being at camp always got your blood pumping and the rush of adrenaline in your veins. even being a daughter of aphrodite, stereotypically dainty, you still felt that rush for glory.

you couldn't ever express that need for it though, as camp counselor, you were always expected to guide younger campers into their quests and their own legacy while ignoring your own. it seemed that you were the only one held to that expectation though, clearly shown by hermes cabin.

luke castellan, son of hermes. god of messaging and traveling, he always seemed to be on the move— talking idly with anyone who will listen, overall somebody who people can look up to.

not you though, you couldn't help but resent him. his overly confident smile and cute head tilt, not to mention how he's always winning every sword fight he's ever been in. he'd say something stupid like 'perks of being the best in the last three-hundred years', and then your eyeroll would just fuel his ego.

perfection was expected at camp, from everybody. being the pride of the gods was almost unachievable, almost.

you and luke had always seemed to never get along, most played it off as playful banter but you both knew it was something more. you just couldn't stand each other, no matter how hard you both tried.

he was just easily amazing at everything he does, seemingly rushing into things without thinking and winning. while you were stuck on the opposite team desperately working, never succeeding.

frustration was the worst way to describe it, it barely encompassed everything you felt. "hey," a voice spoke out, sounding raspy from thirst. "luke is wondering where you are, it's almost time for archery."

evan, while not related to you in any way, he was basically your brother. you took a shaky breath as you looked down at the lake, the prickling pain of every sense coming alive at full force now hitting you.

you didn't respond to him, unable to form the words to describe how much you didn't want to face luke and be proved to be a fool again. the metallic clink of evan's armor was heard as he sat down next to you, he was supposed to be at a practice run of capture the flag right now.

"you're skipping practice." you state, your head resting on your legs as you breathe heavy. regulating yourself the way chiron taught you, even though it barely ever worked.

you heard the click of his mouth before he went quiet, drumming his fingers on his knee before speaking. "im helping my sister," he says, scrunching up his nose at the endearment he called you himself. "practice can't wait, besides ill just fall asleep."

you laugh but it hurts, not a good hurt but more of a achey hurt. hurt for the exertion of emotion, hurt that he finds himself useless in an important sport, and hurt that you're failing to meet your obligations for the other campers at archery practice.

evan fills the silence until he can't anymore, talking about everything and nothing at the same time. sometimes you wonder if he's mr. d's son with how he can act so witty and talkative with you, even though he's a hermit around others.

eventually though, his predictions were right. two hours into his talking he begins to lean, falling asleep almost as fast as he began talking. resting his head on your shoulder, his black hair tickling your cheek.

his smell was comforting though, and even though the armor he hadn't shed dug into your side and your stomach as you laid down with him on you— you couldn't imagine trading it.

his light snores and drool seeped into your bright orange shirt, but you ignored it. using his body as a weighted blanket as you looked out into the water, finding the warm sun and soft grass rather comfortable.

you drifted off easily, hypnos taking you under his wing as he allowed you a peaceful sleep. freed from worries and the expectations, he didn't even let you wake when another counselor found you guys.

luke looked down at the two of you in the grass, taking a moment to just be a tired teen with you before gently picking you up. smiling gently at evan's sleepy face before gesturing him to follow him back to the cabins, cradling you maybe a bit too close than he would with others.

but evan wouldn't say anything, the moment was perfect even if you didn't remember it. (he definitely took a picture though).

#cosywriting #notedverse #castellanswrld #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan oneshot #luke castellan fanfiction #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan fic #luke castellan angst #luke castellan smut

[mamaestapa]

Champagne & Sunshine

"all I want is champagne and sunshine, looking for a good time, sipping on the stars while we laying under sunlight"

•pairing: Jamie Drysdale x Hughes!reader||Trevor Zegras x Hughes!reader

• series summary: summary: Y/n Hughes, twin sister of Jack Hughes, accepts an invitation to move in with Trevor and Jamie after she’s forced to move to Anaheim for a job. Despite her older brother’s opinions, the young woman finds herself falling for both of her roommates…but which one does she fall for the hardest?

• chapter summary: You spend the last days of summer out on the boat with your brothers and best friends. During your boat day, a friend makes you an offer you can't refuse...

• word count: 2.3k

• warnings: Alcohol, alcohol consumption, underage drinking, language, allusions to sex/sexual content, NOT EDITED (there are definitely errors, i apologize lol)

series masterlist

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July 28, 2023

Michigan

Today was the "last day of summer" according to your twin brother, Jack. This evening, you, your brothers, Quinn's girlfriend and Trevor Zegras were out on the boat at the Hughes lake house one last time before everyone had to go their separate ways for the upcoming NHL season. It was tradition at this point for all of you to spend the last week July at the lake together.

"Quinn," your older brothers girlfriend, Emma, scolded while trying to hold back her laughter, "if you take one more sharp left I will puke in this boat."

Emma's statement made everyone on the boat laugh, herself included.

"Alright, alright," Quinn spoke, his laughter dying down, "I'll stop with the turns." He turned the boat with ease this time, making Emma let out a sigh of relief. You chuckled at your friend, handing her a Twisted Tea as she sat down next to you on the cushions. Her face turned in disgust as she took the can from you and shook her head, "Not the Twea."

You scoffed lightly, reaching out to take the can from your friend. However, you were interrupted by a tanned, tattooed arm reaching out in front of you instead.

"Don't mind if I do," Trevor leaned over you and snatched the Twisted Tea out of Emma's hand, cracking it open and chugging the can. He threw it to the floor of the boat, letting out a soft "Ah" as he wiped the liquid that dribbled down his chin.

"Jesus Z," Jack breathed out a laugh as he watched his friend down the Twea like it was nothing. You looked at the boy with wide eyes, watching him shrug it off like it was nothing. You shook yourself out of your thoughts and gently kicked Jacks shin, pointing at the cooler full of Red White and Berry Smirnoff's. He reached into the cooler, pulling out one for you and one for him. He tossed the bottle to you, which you caught with ease.

"Thanks J." You smiled at your twin brother as you popped the cap off the bottle, brining it up to your lips and taking a generous swig of the blue liquid. You let out the same soft "Ah" that Trevor did as you took the bottle away from your lips. You held the bottle in your hands as you re-situated yourself on the bench, leaning against the arm rest side and swinging your legs up off the ground and onto Trevor's lap. As soon as your legs hit his thighs, he placed a hand on your knee. You brought the bottle of Smirnoff Ice back to your lips, throwing your head back and closing your eyes in content as you down the bottle. You opened your eyes and looked around the boat, a small smile pulling at your lips as you looked around at everyone on the boat. Spending the last couple weeks of the offseason with your brothers and best friends was bliss. Pure bliss.

Emma was sitting on Quinn's lap, the two of them singing along to the radio while drinking their seltzers. Quinn’s arm was wrapped around her waist, his hand resting on her upper thigh as his fingertips slowly moved back and forth across her soft, tan skin.

Luke was leaning back on a chair, a beer in his hands and his head leaned back with his eyes closed. He looked extremely content.

Jack was scrolling on his phone while occasionally sipping on his Smirnoff Ice. He too looked content with what was happening around him.

You turned your attention to the boy next to you. Your twins best friend, who has become your friend over the years, too. Trevor was humming softly to the sounds of Champagne & Sunshine as his veiny hands stroked your freshly shaved tan legs sensually and slowly. You looked over at him, admiring how Trevor's beautiful tanned skin looked in the golden sunlight, how his clenched jaw stuck out on his face and how his tattooed arm looked stroking your leg. Trevor felt your gaze on him, causing him to look over at you. He smirked softly as one of his hands trailed up to your hip, his fingers started to toy with the baby blue strings of your bikini bottoms. You looked at the brunnete boy sitting next to you, slowly shaking your head at him and his antics. Trevor just kept that teasing smirk on his lips as his long fingers continued to toy with the strings resting on your hips. Your breath hitched in your throat as you kept your eyes locked on Trevor's blue ones. He shouldn't be making you feel this way...you thought...maybe it's just the alcohol making you feel like this.

"Ahem."

The sound of Jack clearing his throat made you and Trevor snap your attention over to where your twin brother was sitting. He was giving the two of you a pointed look as Trevor slowly brought his hand away from your hip, letting it rest on your knee instead.

"Do you need us to leave?" Quinn teased with a laugh, his girlfriend laughing along with him, "because we will." She added. You rolled your eyes at your friend as you took your legs off of Trevor's lap, hoping the action would ease the teasing from your brothers and best friend.

"That would be great." Trevor said, playing right along with the joke. You could feel the blush rise to your cheeks at his comment. Ever since Jack introduced the two of you years ago, you and Trevor have always been a bit flirty with each other. Flirting with Trevor was just natural to you, and he felt the exact same way.

You just shook your head, groaning softly as you listened to Jack and Trevor go back and forth for a moment. The playful banter stopped at the sound of Luke clearing his throat this time. Your eyes snapped up to your younger brother, eyebrows furrowed as you looked at him. He discreetly pointed over in the direction of Quinn and Emma. You, Jack, Trevor and Luke all averted your gaze over to the front of the boat, eyes widening when you noticed what Luke was talking about.

Emma had her arms wrapped around Quinn's neck as she straddled him, her lips connected to his collar bone as his hands trailed dangerously low down her tan body. Quinn let his hands rest on her butt, giving each cheek a generous squeeze as he moaned softly at the feeling of her lips moving to his stubbled jawline.

Trevor wolf whistled at the two as Luke groaned in both embarrassment and disgust.

"Oh come on," you groaned, squeezing your eyes shut. Your older brother feeling up your best friend was not something you wanted to see.

"Jesus..."Jack trailed off, groaning just like the younger Hughes, "Could you maybe not do that, on the boat, in the middle of the lake, please?"

Quinn cleared his throat and removed his hands from Emma's ass, gently pushing his girlfriend away from his touch. "Sorry." He said sheepishly, a light blush creeping up his neck. Emma got off of Quinn's lap, scoffing lightly as she sat down on the cushion next to him. "I'm not," she said, a sly smirk adorning her lips, "I'm horny as fuck."

Jack and Luke groaned once again, "Oh you did not..."

Trevor broke out in a cackle as you scolded your best friend.

"Emma!"

"What?!"

"You can't just say that." You said, letting out a laugh in disbelief. "But it's true," she said, defending herself, "all this alcohol has me worked up."

Jack cleared his throat as he cracked open a beer, "Then maybe you should stop drinking."

"I second that." Luke said, nodding in agreement. Emma got up and walked over to the cooler, grabbing a Smirnoff Ice and popping the cap off. She took a generous swig and sat back down next to Quinn. She sighed contently as she swung her legs up on Quinn's lap.

"In your dreams, boys." She said, making Quinn's lips curl up into a smile as he started caressing his girlfriends legs. Luke sighed as Jack mumbled incoherently under his breath. Trevor was still laughing at Emma and Quinn, his little giggles making you chuckle too. You took this opportunity to bring your legs back up on Trevor's legs. You missed the way his fingertips felt brushing against your thighs. As soon as the back of your legs fell onto Trevor's purple swim trunk cladded thighs, his hands were instantly on your shins, stroking your skin softly back and forth, back and forth. A small smile pulled at your lips as you looked over at your brothers friend, his smile matched yours as he gazed at you.

"Enough about Quinn and Emma," Jack spoke, shooting the couple a teasing smirk before he turned to you, "Y/n/n, have you heard anything about your new job?"

Ah, your new job. It was a touchy subject for a while as you didn't know where you would be moving to for a majority of the summer. You've always had a passion for writing and journalism, and luckily enough you were offered an internship for a newspaper company in Los Angeles, California. However, you didn't find out it was in LA until a couple days ago. You also didn't find out that you were expected to be in LA in two weeks...Moving to California was going to change your lifestyle a lot, especially since you had no clue where you would be living.

"Well," you breathed out, "I actually got a call from my boss a couple days ago..." you trailed off, looking at everyone on the boat. You sighed softly before continuing, "I have to be in LA in two weeks."

Quinn choked on his beer, "T-two weeks?" You nodded, "Yup," you said, popping the p, "two weeks."

"Wow." was all Jack could say.

"Yeah..." you trailed off, "Communication hasn't been great so far, but the pay is worth it." You joke lightly, making Emma smile and nod. She understood, she always understood.

Quinn cleared his throat, looking at you with concern etched on his features, "Have you found a place yet out there?" You shook your head, gulping before you spoke, "Not yet. Everything I've glanced at is way too expensive and I need roommates to even afford anything."

Jack hummed as he looked like he wanted to say something. However, he was cut off by Trevor.

"You can live with Jimmy and I."

Your head snapped to look over at the boy sitting to your right. Your eyebrows raised and eyes widened in shock at the Ducks player's suggestion.

"R-really?"

Trevor shrugged, "Yeah. Other guy bailed on us before I left for Michigan. We've been looking for another roommate since." He explained like it wasn't a big deal. You nodded slowly as you considered Trevor's offer.

It was very sweet of him to offer you a room in his and Jamie's house, but you weren't sure if it would be right for you to accept his offer. What would Jamie think about you moving in? What did your brothers think? You've seen the guys place, could you even afford rent?

"Plus," Trevor added, "it saves you from having to live with strangers."

Jack scoffed, "Yeah, instead she gets to live with you morons." Emma's mouth hung open in shock, "Be nice, Jackie. Jimbo is a sweetie," she shot Trevor a teasing wink as she continued, "Z is the only moron she'll be living with."

Trevor flipped Emma off, making the brunette girl laugh, "Love you too Trev." Trevor just rolled his eyes and turned his gaze back to you.

"We'd love to have you, Y/n/n." Trevor said softly, giving you a pleading look. He really wanted you to move in with him and Jamie. You smiled softly at Trevor before you looked around the boat, noticing how your brothers were staying silent. They were letting you make the decision, without giving you any of their opinions. Which you appreciated--even though you knew you'd hear all of them at some point.

You took a moment and considered your options. There was a lot of unknown moving to Anaheim with Trevor, but you really did need a place to live...

"OK." was all you said after a moment of silence.

"OK?" Trevor asked, his blue eyed gaze hopeful as he awaited more confirmation from you.

"I'll move in with you."

Trevor grinned widely at your response, slinging an arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his side. You couldn't help the smile that appeared on your face as butterflies swarmed in your belly at his reaction.

"You are going to love it out there, Y/n/n." Trevor said, excitement lacing his tone. You chuckled softly, "I bet I will."

You didn't know if it was the right thing to do...but your decision was final.

You were moving to Anaheim.

You were going to be living with Trevor and Jamie. Two NHL players. Two best friends. Two guys who you've only ever visited, not lived with.

This should get interesting...

hi loves!!

so this start was kinda meh. BUT it is just the introduction, and if you've ever read my writing, you know the first chapter or two are a little meh and slow.

I promise this will get MUCH better, especially the further we get into the series—which I am SO excited for you all to read!! I have so many fun ideas planned for this series. it's the perfect mix of fluff, smut, and angst. so get ready...👀

thank you for your continued love and support. it means so much to me! I know a majority of my followers are here for Joe burrow, but I wanted to take a break from writing about him so I could write about my other favorite guys, too🤍

that's all I have for now, have great day/night!!🤍

tags: @luvmatth3ws @emaanemaa @sammiejane22 @tpwkstiles @kkrenae @softboystarkey @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

#devils advocate #trevor zegras #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras series #jamie drysdale #jamie drysdale x reader #jamie drysdale series

[eveningserenityyy]

In sickness and In Health | One Shot

Rating: General.

Pairing: Luke Skywalker x reader

Word Count: 3215k

Summary: Luke thinks the day shall be seemingly peaceful and perfectly content…until he finds you struck with an illness he must help care for.

A/N: I started writing this when I was sick, and whilst i'm better now, I do hope this helps comfort two of my friends who are! <3

Luke woke up early this seemingly delightful morning, eyes both kissed and scorched by the golden rays of the morning sun as it dawned upon his sleepy figure; easing him into a state of consciousness.

His first instinct, just as the day before and just as likely fated to be the same tomorrow, is to turn his attention to you in order for you to be the first thing he sees and may admire when he awakens. That alone is the key to a great day in his opinion, getting to wake up next to you and watch as your chest rises and falls with light breaths, and the way your lips are slightly parted with your messy hair framing your pretty face. 

His day cannot start until he can be assured you are next to him, safe and happy in his loving gaze.

You seem so peaceful and content, therefore he did not have the heart to wake you up so selfishly. He leaned over, careful for his movements to be anything but heavy as he pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek; the heat of your flesh warm and inviting against his soft lips.

Naturally, he finds himself to be smiling as he rises from the bed, getting himself dressed and ready to attend to his students. 

He hates to leave you just to wake up on your own whenever that time may be, yet alas, he would have to go regardless of his desires. You would be just fine, and close by if anything were to happen.

He whispered a sweet “I love you.” before leaving you to your rest, hoping you don’t wake up too lonely whilst he's gone. 

Soon after, the fog of dreams lifted on your end, and reality was born before your eyes as they fluttered open just to squeeze shut again in mere seconds. It wasn’t simply the sunlight of which was a source of woe, but too the dizzying pressure in your head that had struck you immediately.

Something was deeply wrong, wrong enough to be noticed despite the dreadful sleepiness that swarmed you like a warm weighted blanket fresh from the dryer. 

You sniffled, noticing how both stuffy and runny your nose felt- there too was a soreness in your throat, gathering the unrelenting need to clear it over and over as fluids coated it on the inside.

“No…not today!” You could not help but whine in such a moment as this, dreading the very idea of being sick so suddenly and without warning. 

Okay, that's not entirely true- for over the past two days, you’d noticed your throat felt rather dry, but being sick never crossed your mind. Instead, you simply drowned your throat in water and called it a day. You thought perhaps you had spoken too much, or hadn’t drank enough water, for germs were never a suspect.

Immediately, your body and mind craved comfort and care for this curse of illness casted upon you. You wanted to be cuddled, soothed, and brought copious amounts of soup until you could start feeling better at last, to be cared for as a parent does for a child. 

You wanted Luke most of all, reaching out for the empty space next to you where he no longer was; The only remnants of his presence was that of his imprint left in the mattress, the imprint of which had been lovingly filled when you had first gone to rest the night before. 

You extended your arm, reaching for his pillow as you brought it close to you like a teddy bear. You nuzzled your face into it, gathering his scent, for the pillow smelt of him; eucalyptus, and the light mist of fresh springwater, paired with a flowery scent that you could not put your finger on but was comforting nevertheless. You did in fact worry that your germs would swarm the fabric, but you could always wash it later- you needed the comfort when in such a state as this, and you dearly hoped he would not mind (Which, in all probability, he wouldn’t).

A sharp pain then built in your throat, mimicking the sharp stabbing of a dozen knives as it caused you to cough about a dozen times. You couldn’t stop as hard as you tried, a tingling feeling in the back of your throat that demanded your coughs of suffrage as compensation. Your throat was beyond irritated, close to nausea after such a fit.

You just about wanted to cry, too tired to deal with this. It wasn’t fair, and so suddenly were you mourning the days when your illness was beyond comprehension, when you could lay back without the mucus wishing to be drained.

Furthermore, from a distance did Luke sense something to be wrong indeed, the very fabric of the force singing to him in silent desperation. He attempted to focus on it, yet the younglings had so many questions for him at this time in their lesson, therefore he waited until the break in between sessions to go and check on just what was the matter.

Once the break commenced, he was quick to return to you, wasting no time as he entered the home you had shared and built together. 

As he entered the bedroom, his heart dropped as he saw you curled up under the blankets, your poor figure shivering and holding his pillow to your body as you struggled to keep the coughs at bay.

You appeared so weak and delicate, suffering under the effects of a sneaky illness. He couldn’t stand to see you this way, immediately tending to your side as he crouched next to you, pressing a hand to your forehead before placing his lips there instead, feeling the warmth you radiated so violently.

“Luke?” You mumbled out, voice sounding so rough and weakened. You had barely noticed him enter the room, a telltale sign of your state.

“I’m here, star, im here…” He tried his best to give you a reassuring smile, despite how much it pained him to see you like this. “Sick, huh?”

You nodded with a frown, sniffling to drain your nose as your eyes wet themselves with the buildup of tears. “I don’t…don’t feel good-”

He had the strongest urge to care for you, to do everything in his power to make you feel a little less terrible than you did now. How could he leave you like this? His heart sank at seeing your state of being, and he simply wished to do all he could for you.

He made a choice in regards to the day he had originally planned, one he was perfectly content with.  “I’ll be right back, alright? Try and rest. Close your eyes for me, it’ll help.”

You complied, eyes falling heavy as you heard his footsteps disappear into the distance. You wondered what he was doing, although your brain was much too fried to think about anything too deeply. 

After a few minutes, he came right back, once again crouched by your side with a cold cloth to be placed on your forehead. You hummed in response, for it felt so nice on your skin. It was the best sensation you had felt all morning, compared to the waging war of your immune system.

You then remembered something, gazing up at him with tired eyes as it occurred to you. “Mmm’ Luke…don’t-” Cough, “-You have-” Cough. “-Class today?”

He smiled warmly, shaking his head as if to reassure you as quickly as possible. “I cancelled, don’t worry. Who else will take care of you but me?”

You were glad, although did not let it show as to not be selfish over his time you had stolen from the padawans. “You didn’t have to do that…”

“Star,” The loving nickname lingered over his tongue, drawing it out as if to question you with a hint of amusement in his tone. “You’re hugging my pillow for comfort- I think you need me.”

You blushed, or at least you think you did if your face isn’t already pink tinted. You and Luke were equally needy when it came to each other, sure, yet that intensified when you were sick- you’d have him glued to your side if you could.

He brought a hand to your forehead, brushing your hair out of your face with the tips of his fingers. “Can I make you some soup, see if that helps you?”

You nodded, weakly so. “Please…I would like that, if you don't mind.”

“The regular, I assume?” He asked for clarification, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. He knew you liked to be cared for whilst also not wanting to be a burden, but to him, you could never be such a thing. Caring for you made him happy, for he could help soothe the one he loved most.

“Mhm.” You hummed in response, thus watching as he got up to make his way over to the kitchen, your eyes struggling to stay open as you found yourself succumbing to the dark fog that was a deserved nap.

It's truly a surprise that you could fall asleep at all when in such a condition, therefore you would take whatever chance you got for some rest.

Luke smiled to himself, knowing you were napping peacefully, and for that he was glad. It was the one moment in which you could have any true peace, not having to experience the effects that's plagued you so terribly. 

He loved you so much, and hated seeing you sick more than he naturally should. He loved seeing you smile, or strut about the room with such grace, making his heart burn for you with the sound of your laughter…but seeing you so weak and fragile, so pale and miserable at that, brought him great pain.

He gathered the ingredients at the kitchen counter, setting up the pot and cutting up some vegetables for your soup with a rapid ease.

He thought himself to be a decent cook, with recipes he already knew, at least. He had his aunt to thank for that, having taught him how to cook select recipes when he was growing up. 

This soup was always one of his favourites, and now one of yours, of which Beru had taught him how to make. It was a simple recipe, lots of spices- there was only one thing he had adjusted for your liking, and that was grating the carrots in as opposed to chopping them. It was a texture thing for you, mushy carrots not having much of an appeal.

The process of making it wasn’t too long, some time passing before he could bring it to you. He too took some time to allow it to cool down, too giving you more time to rest in the process. As he did this, he kept glancing back into the room you laid within, tinges of worry tainting his mind.

He quietly spoke your name as he nudged you awake, already having placed your soup on the bedside table for you. He made sure to be gentle with his nudges, not wishing to disrupt you poorly.

“Mm?” You hummed, voice raspy as your eyes fluttered open. “Oh…Hi.”

You were so sweet as you looked up at him, feeling awful yet still so happy to see him as you always were. It made his heart flutter with the dancing of butterflies.

He smiled, pressing his curved lips to your forehead again to read your temperature. “Still hot, I see. You should take the blanket off, i don’t want you to overheat or-”

“I’m always hot.” You tried to joke, yet it didn’t much land, for your tone was quite monotone and depressed sounding due to the physical state. “-But yes…”

You caused a slight chuckle to slip past him, and for that you were glad as he thus asked you to kindly sit up in order to eat the soup he had made for you.

You nodded, carefully and rather slowly pulling yourself up to sit with you back leaning against the headboard of your shared bed. 

“Good girl,” That smile was still on his face as he praised your efforts, causing you to blush. He didn’t mean it in any way that you may have been thinking, for it was a rather innocent praise.

He took the mug of soup from the nightstand, holding it carefully as he took the spoon, gathering some broth on it as he brought it to your lips. You had no complaints in regards to him helping you like this, so you parted your lips in return and allowed for him to ease the spoon into your mouth.

As you swallowed, it felt comfortingly warm against your throat and dry mouth, the spices dancing on your tongue as the flavours hit you like a harmonious song. 

“Thank you…” You spoke after a few more spoonfuls of soup, swallowing the liquid coating in your throat as you did so.

Luke is always so good to you, allowing for you to feel so loved and cared for. You couldn’t feel more appreciative of the man who sat before you. 

You reached a hand to him, cupping his cheek as you caressed the pink flesh with your thumb. Your touch was so gentle to him, perfectly delicate and warm due to the heat you radiated. 

“Can we cuddle, please?” You pleaded, giving him the cutest pout and puppy eyes. 

How could he say no when you asked so nicely, and needed him so much today? He was quite sure that his heart must be melting in his chest.

“Of course. It's hardly a question, you know. ” He smiled so warmly once again with a joy that felt like medicine, placing the mug on the bedside table as you scooched over for him, giving him room to lay with your back to his chest.

You worried that facing him would put him at risk of gathering your germs, therefore spooning was the safest position…yet part of you hated that very fact. Your love language is physical affection; you wanted to kiss him, to place your lips all over his rosy cheeks and soft lips, and you wanted just the same from him in return. 

He had his leg draped over your own, his face nuzzled into your hair and neck as his hand found its place upon your chest, feeling your heartbeat thump against him in a calming manner. It was peaceful to know your blood was pumping healthily through your veins, even in a state that may have left you feeling as if death was on its way. 

Though, he could indeed sense something was bothering you, a sudden riff like the waves on a calm ocean becoming disturbed. Something was on your mind.

“Star, is something wrong?”

You would feel rather silly having to explain that you’re pouting because you can’t kiss him until you get better, so you brushed it off instead. “Mmm no, just keep holding me, okay?”

He wasn’t buying it, but just nodded, pressing a kiss to your hair as he felt the disturbance once again. He was beginning to catch on, smiling to himself for the fact that you were always so needy for him, craving his affection; he adored it, truth be told. He felt so wanted and loved because of it, but make no mistake, he still wished to comfort the anguish of which he was not so very fond of in comparison.

You felt him pull away from you before slowly and gently nudging you around to face him, leaving you half laying on your back. He placed a hand on your chin, thumb running over your bottom lip as he began to question you. “Starflower, be honest with me; are you upset because you think I can't kiss you?”

You blushed, forgetting how quickly he catches onto things. “Well…but you…you know can’t- i’ll get you sick and i don’t wanna be the reason you get sick…”

“You didn’t answer my question.” His tone was both reassuring to protect you from embarrassment, while also teasing at once.

You sighed, pushing a cough down your throat as you did so. “Yes…I am- don’t laugh at me.”

He shook his head, blushing just as you were. “I'm not laughing, I promise.”

You tried to hide your face in the pillows, escaping his gaze as his grasp drifted to run through your hair soothingly. “I’m not afraid to kiss you just because of a few germs. You only have to ask me.”

“It would be selfish to get you sick, Luke.”

“And it would be selfish for me to deny you when you want me…Star, there is nothing I would hesitate to give you.”

You peered up at him again with the brightest blush, shy to give in. “Don’t blame me when you get sick then.”

His heart thumped in his chest, eyes switching between your lips and your sleepy eyes. “The padawans deserve a break for how hard they have been working, and we get to spend time together. I don’t sense a problem with this.” 

He had his right arm resting on the other side of your head as he looked down on you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. A few quiet moments passed like this, finding comfort in close proximity before you thus spoke quietly, pushing a smile from your lips. “Kiss me, please…”

“Hm? What was that, sweetheart?” He lightly teased, wishing to lighten the mood further, thinking a tad bit of silliness may ease your mind. 

“Luke…” You whined, pouting. Although, there was a part of you that would have giggled if not for being sick.

He let out a chuckle, lowering his lips onto your own as they connected, latching onto one another as if they had moulded to fit together as a perfect puzzle piece over the years. The kiss was soft, and left your lips feeling warm and tingly as his kisses always did. Even the curves of your smiles blended together smoothly, considered almost addicting.

You could feel the tug of his smile against your own throughout the entirety of the moment, so blissful even when in the company of countless germs. It was a lovely contrast, truly. That was what you loved most, the fact he could make the dark times seem like a paradise.

Reluctantly did he pull away, yet not far enough for his hot breath still danced against your skin. “See? That wasn’t so bad, star…”

You shook your head, raising your arms up to wrap around his neck. “Just wait until you get sick, maybe you’ll change your mind.”

“It’ll be worth it.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, coughing along the way and yet not phasing him in the least as the germs were likely spread over him. “You’re ridiculous, Skywalker.”

“I’m only in love.”

With another cough, you spoke. “When did you get so cheesy?”

This would be one cue to say something along the lines of “when i fell in love with you”, but fortunately for you, he instead replaces such a phrase with another interlocking of lips instead. Suddenly, being sick wasn’t so bad as it once appeared…

#Luke skywalker x reader #sickfic #one shot #Star Wars fanfiction #luke skywalker #fluff #hurt/comfort #x reader

[howyouloveyourdragon]

What about yandere Daemon joining yandere Rhaenyra in being obsessed with half-sister!reader?

Would they marry her? (Aegon I had 2 wives)

oh 100%, i've written headcanons for this but let me know if you would like a fic once asks are reopened (probably sometime next week) because 👀

i've written this in the direction of this being similar to a sequel to my other Rhaenyra x half-sister asks

i don't think he would be attracted to her initially because he sees her plainly as Alicent's offspring and we all know how he feels about Alicent but he would still respect that Rhaenyra cares for you

i think Daemon x Rhaenyra's half-sister would be very much slow burn

he'll ignore you about the castle once Rhaenyra has you in her grasp but one day he's in the library and spots you reaching up to take down a book on Valyrian history. He frowns and studies the spine before regrettably deciding to approach

it is not often that he lets his desires go unheard of so he asks what you're reading so that he can be sure and when you answer he feels the slightest of intrigue nestle in his gut

he offers to teach you of his conquest of the stepstones and the second your eyes sparkle in interest he's fallen

it becomes a habit to join you in the library while Rhaenyra is off during her duties and even more of a habit to tease you greatly though if anyone so much as attempts to do so themselves, his sword is pressed to their neck quicker than they can draw next breath

he does not wish for you to see him in his violent tendencies but he does want you to see him protecting you and your honour

Rhaenyra will point blank refuse to draw bloodshed before you but Daemon enjoys a making a slow show of whomever disrespects you

Rhaenyra cannot lie and say that it doesn't bring a fond smile to her face when she sees you together in this newfound friendship but it does surprise her when friendship turns into desire before her very eyes.

She doesn't however remember when the feelings changed and neither can he

his eyes stared down at you one evening as you talked excitedly with Baela and Rhaena and suddenly he was imagining you caring for them as you do Jace, Luke and Joffrey, a twitch to his lip and he's down bad

the same night it happens he corners Rhaenyra in the hall but is shocked when she confronts him

Daemon will not deny it, he is a proud man and insist on discussion, pleasantly surprised when Rhaenyra offers a compromise between your affections – they share you

i think Rhaenyra would agree very enthusiastically to another Valyrian wedding ceremony, the more attention and protection her darling garners the better though you may be quite hesitant at first

despite it all Alicent is still your loving mother and you care for her and you know she is not fond of Daemon

too many changes at once might startle you

he would ease you into the idea but visiting you to the point of smothering and partaking his entertainment in your chambers

he won't have sex with you until you ask it of him but he will leave hints, he might dangle your desires in front of you before snatching them away with a promise of giving it to you tenfold in return for your hand in marriage

regardless, you will find yourself with two spouses and soon he refuses to leave your bed, complaining of his clingy arms

i think there might be some conflict between Rhaenyra and Daemon's methods of keeping you safe, while Rhaenyra will want to shelter you and especially during the war, Daemon will want you to see the pain your family is inflicting on your spouses

he is a lot more possessive than his other wife and impulsive too

he will act as though he is nonethewiser of your heritage in your presence but when Alicent or your siblings are present he will put on a show and keep you wrapped up in his arms with a smug grin

the blood of those who insult you have become a staple in his clothing, he will don it proudly

gift giving will be one method he uses to garner your attention though anything he gives you will have something distinctly Daemon about it, he needs you to think about him as much as he thinks about you

i think he would be very glad to gift you jewellery above other things because he will see it as staking his claim when you wear it

he won't hurt you but if the time comes for arguments he might be quite violent in throwing possessions

when it comes to bedchambers i think he would demand you all share whereas Rhaenyra would ask if you would prefer the privacy of separate (if you did take this offer it would hurt her dearly but she does not wish for you to feel trapped despite her displeasure when you are not within her sight)

#rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #yandere rhaenyra #yandere rhaenyra targaryen #yandere rhaenyra targaryen ask #ask #anon #anon ask #request #yandere rhaenyra targaryen request #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #yandere daemon targaryen x reader #yandere daemon targaryen request #yandere daemon #yandere daemon targaryen ask #rhaenyra x reader x daemon #rhaenyra targaryen x reader x daemon targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen x half-sister!reader x daemon targaryen #headcanons #yandere headcanons #yandere hotd headcanons

[materassassino]

For the ask thing, Dinluke 💛💖🤎 pwease?

(I'm assuming you gave three options so I could choose one.)

💛 reunion kiss / relief

(Set in the same AU as Those Hands of Yours, That Count the Nights, but approximately two-and-a-half years later.)

Word spreads through the Hoth base like wildfire, hot enough to thaw the walls: they’ve been hailed by a Mandalorian ship. Everyone knows the Mandalorians are nominal allies, and everyone knows what happened to Mandalore a year ago. The fact one is taking refuge here is momentous, and they have the clearance. They’ve been let through.

A crowd has gathered in the hangar, dense enough that Luke has to politely but firmly elbow his way through to the front, to stand beside Leia and Han. Han looks sour, like he does most of the time at the moment. Leia has her arms folded, brows drawn.

“Well?” Luke asks, slightly breathless.

She gives him a small, sad look. “A woman hailed. She gave the right codes but…”

The intimation is unvoiced: don’t get your hopes up.

He tries not to, he really does, but he is made of hope, and always has been.

Like the clean stab of a vibroblade, the Kom’rk fighter/transport slides home into the hangar, coming to a crisp stop and easing off the turbolifts until she settles in a soft cloud of shifted ice crystals. Elegantly done with such a sizeable ship. Han pouts at it like it’s done him great personal wrong.

Even though his heart thuds in his chest, Luke tries to take a deep breath. It could be anyone on that ship: despite Mandalore’s fate, there are thousands of Mandalorians in the galaxy, and all of them are valued allies. He’ll be happy to see anyone who steps off it. All warriors are welcome, especially those of such renown as—

His feet move before he realises. He can sense him, after the horrid, sickening void he’s felt for two years. He catches himself with the Force before he can slip, and is halfway up the loading ramp before anyone has time to notice, to stop him. There is ringing silver in the Force, the most beautiful song in the galaxy.

He grabs the middle figure’s arms, unable to stop himself from breaking into a wide, joyous grin. Immediately a forest of blasters in on him, loaded and ready to fire.

“Din,” he breathes, aware of them but ignoring them. “You’re alive.”

“Luke?” Din chokes out, and a woman with a blue and white helmet gestures for the guards around them to lower their weapons with a roll of her helmet.

Distantly Luke hears Leia let out a sound of pure delight, but it barely registers. Ignoring the crowd, ignoring propriety, Luke surges up. Din meets him halfway, and it’s cold beskar to warm(ish) skin and hair, Luke’s eyes sliding closed.

He’d been on a low simmer of dread for two years, since they separated all that time ago, since they found out about Mandalore, with no inkling Din was actually safe. He’d tried to move on, to let go, but he couldn’t. Some small, perhaps foolish, fragment of hope remained in him.

It’s paid off.

They pull back, and Luke sags with relief. He doesn’t even know what to say. His emotions are in turmoil, and all he can do is stare as the familiar, beloved lines of Din’s helmet, and superimpose the holograph he’s stared at every night.

“Oh, I have good news,” Din says.

“What?”

Din steps slightly to the side, pressing something on his pauldron. A hoverpram floats forward.

“We’re fathers, now,” he says, and the hoverpram opens.

#star wars #dinluke #luke skywalker #din djarin #the mandalorian #pixie writes #ask game #counting keldabe kisses as actual kisses because we respect other cultures in this house #i might integrate this into an actual fic one day if i ever get round to finishing this beast

[afatallovesong]

Filthy Thoughts

Short and sweet

18+, Smut, NSFW

My mental health has been in the gutter since Christmas so I’m starting a mini series called ‘Filthy Thoughts’ where it’s basically just short and filthy 5SOS scenarios for you to enjoy while I work on longer fics.

Word Count: 613

Luke’s been on tour for months and although you facetime and you call and text and you send nudes, god it’s just not the same at all and he’s weak, god he’s so weak. He’s desperate and he misses you and he needs your pussy in any shape or form he doesn’t fucking care. He just has to have you, he’s desperate, with his head in your lap, you’re playing with his hair, holding him. You’re cuddling, he’s nudging you with his nose, pecking at your thighs through your clothes, prodding you. He’s trying so hard to get your attention without outright begging for your pussy. You eventually notice his shuffling and you can’t help but feel a little hot at the sight of his face between your legs like that, his blonde curls wrapped around your fingertips while you massage his scalp. You’re undeniably wet in your shorts and you hope he doesn’t know, there’s no way he could know.

He does though, of course he does. He knows how you feel about him. He can smell it on you too, smell your fucking arousal for him and he can’t take it anymore. He needs to poke his fingers under your shorts and sink them through your soaked lips. Your breath is hitching, he’s grinning against you, head turned to look up at you in awe. Your cheeks are blushing red and he’s loving every second of it. He’s lazily playing with you, head resting higher up on your stomach as you both shifted to make it feel better, ease of access included.

It’s not long before the teasing is too much for you to handle and you need him to take your shorts off and he does. He does, right after he takes off his grey sweatshirt and his top underneath, leaving his upper half bare. It’s not even because he expects anything more from you, but because he knows damn well he’s gonna work up a sweat from making you feel good. He’s pulling your shorts down, kissing, sucking, and licking over your lace panties and moaning against your throbbing clit. His fingers waste no time sinking inside you fully while he suckles. Your own fingers are in his hair again but gripping harsher cause you know he whimpers when you do that. His whimpers, the vibrations rippling over your clit is fucking heaven and god are you close to cumming already?

His sweet little whimpers and his rough fingers fucking your cunt like that, hell, maybe you missed him as much as he missed you. You’re clamping down on his fingers and he’s scrunching his eyes shut while he sucks your clit. Holy shit he might just be losing his damn mind too. You’re so fucking perfect, and he moans it into your cunt while you cum around his fingers. You half wonder why it’s so loud, cause there’s no way he felt as impossibly good as you did in that moment but fuck, unbeknown to you, he just might. “Baby, baby I wanna make you feel good,” you’re already pulling him up to taste yourself on his lips as you mutter your request. He’s blushing furiously hard, burying his face in your neck instead, “don’t think you need to worry about that” his breath’s hot, words muffled by your skin. You’re wracking your post euphoric brain for a reason why he’d reject you taking care of him after so long apart but then it clicks in your mind. He’s looking down at the stain in his sweats and instead of the mortifying laugh he expects from you, all you can manage is “god that’s so fucking hot Luke.” 

#5 seconds of summer #5sos #5sos fanfic #5sos fic #5sos imagine #5sos one shot #5sos smut #5sos luke #5sos luke fic #5sos luke imagine #5sos luke hemmings #luke hemmings #luke hemmings 5sos #luke hemmings imagine #luke hemmings smut #luke hemmings oneshot #luke hemmings fic #luke 5 seconds of summer #luke 5sos

[dearsnow]

HERE WE COME

- you begin your journey on dragonbreath mountain with your best friend and a couple of unwelcome guests. (jacaerys velaryon, aemond targaryen, & aegon targaryen x gn!reader)

word count: 1,068

DRAGONBREATH MOUNTAIN: when you decided to become a camp counselor with your best friend, jacaerys velaryon, you never knew exactly what the trip would entail.

You step out of the travel van, your booted feet sticking in a small patch of mud. You thank the driver with a smile and turn around to look at your surroundings, awestruck. The air is fresh, scented with pine needles and wet grass. Every little piece of this place is gorgeous. There are countless trees, stretching far into the distance, and the horizon is decorated with scrawling mountains. Each one seems larger than the one before, surrounding the little clearing with walls of earth and stone. You take a deep breath and turn to the boy next to you.

“Damn, I never knew nature could be this beautiful.” You breathe. “How have you never brought me up here before, Jace? One picture and I would’ve packed my bags.” You can hear the faint rumbling of a waterfall, hidden by the trees and rocks. 

He smiles, eyes darting around like today is the first time he has ever seen the outside world. “First of all, phones aren’t allowed up here. You have to turn them in to the camp leader when we actually reach camp. He’s pretty strict about them. I should know, he’s taken my phone away at home more times than I can remember.” You laugh at that. “And secondly,” He takes a pause, “I remember you saying that you like hot water better than mountaintop views.” He raises his eyebrows in your direction. He’s right, and you know it. That doesn’t stop you from hating the look on his face, though, the one that’s screaming “I told you so”.

He’s been going to this camp since he was seven years old. Every year, he would return home and regale you with tales of hiking trails, hidden beauties, and campfire songs. Camp Dragonbreath means the absolute world to him. When he got too old to be a camper, however, he returned as a counselor. This is the first year he’s been able to convince you to come along for the ride.

You grab your backpack from inside the rickety old camp van, but as you try to pick up your suitcase, Jace stops you. He lifts both your suitcase and his with ease, setting them down on a dry patch of land. You can’t help but notice that he looks good while he does it, his arm muscles stretching against his thin t-shirt. You shake the thought away as another van rolls into the area. He squints, searching for the blurry faces in the windows.

Jace audibly groans the moment he catches a glimpse of the people in the beat-up vehicle. “Wonderful, my relatives.” You furrow your eyebrows.

“Relatives? I thought you had to be between seventeen and twenty-five to be a camp counselor.” Your mind races to Luke, his kid brother, and his parents. His step-father is the camp leader, which you know, but he’s been at the camp itself for a couple days now. You don’t know anyone else that could possibly be in that van.

He presses his lips into a thin line and crosses his arms. “Yeah, my cousins are around our age. Aegon and Aemond. I almost forgot they would even be here. They’ve never taken an interest in this place before, but I guess this year I got unlucky.” He turns towards you, decidedly putting his body between you and the others. “I try to stay away from them, and you should too.”

Now you’re confused. How did your best friend hide his family from you that well? “Why?” You ask, your mind reeling. If a kind, strong, and amazing person like Jace hid people from you, they must be jerks or something.

“You’ll see.” He mutters, closing the door to your van. The driver peels out of the lot, probably going to store the vehicle in some secluded place while the camp goes on. You wonder how many people have sat in the same seat as you, scrunching your nose slightly. Your attention is once again quickly diverted to the other van as the inhabitants open the door.

The first one out has curly white hair and eye bags that seem to reach down into the pits of hell. He’s weirdly handsome, resembling the very tired posterboy for a teen romcom. The other is tall, slender, and sharp. One of his eyes is covered with a patch, his sleek, snow-colored hair falling over his shoulders gracefully. He is also handsome, but in the way a knife is handsome. You suck in a breath.

“Jacey!” The first one calls. “What are you doing with someone as stunning as that? Did a poor soul finally take pity on you?” Immediately, you know why he didn’t want you to meet them. Your cheeks grow warm at the jeer as the second boy looks at the first, mildly disappointed. 

Jace sighs, resting a hand lightly on his forehead. “No, Aegon, this is my best friend. Not like you would know, you’ve never had a friend in your life.” He shoots back. Your eyes widen, a small smile finding its way to your face as he speaks. You never knew Jace was one to fight back like that. Of course, no one had ever teased him in a similar fashion while you were around before.

Aegon looks hurt, turning to his brother with an exaggerated swagger. “I’ve had friends, plenty of them. Right, Aem?” 

He rolls his good eye. “Not that I’ve ever seen.” He mutters coldly. Your small smile turns into a large grin as Aegon deflates, turning to you for support.

“It’s never too late to start making them. Will you be my friend, gorgeous?” He asks. Aemond smacks the back of Aegon’s head.

“It’ll be an incredibly long hike to the campsite if you continue on this way.” He sneers. There’s an icy look in his gaze, though it’s cut with just a hint of affection. They’re definitely interesting people. With the way Jace is staring at them, though, with burning eyes, you think there might be something other than cousinly rivalry present. 

Jace hands you your suitcase. “Let’s get going. The camp is just up that hill, at the foot of Dragonbreath Mountain.” He gestures to a small trail to your right, marked with a sign. “If we’re lucky, we’ll lose those two along the way.” He whispers under his breath. You stifle a laugh.

“Dragonbreath Mountain, here we come.”

Taglist (comment or send an ask to join): @valeskafics @savagemickey03 @bespinnn

#dragonbreath mountain ; hotd 🏔️ #solar eclipse. #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys fluff #jacaerys x you #jacaerys imagine #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond x y/n #aemond x reader #aemond imagine #aemond x you #aemond fluff #aemond fic #aegon x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen #aegon fic #hotd #hotd fanfic #hotd x reader #house of the dragon

[humanpurposes]

Karma is a God

Chapter 5: Shipbreaker Bay

The Dance of the Dragons begins on a lie, and Aemond owes a debt, one Lucerra will see repaid in Fire and Blood // Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Aemond x Lucerra Velaryon (fem!Lucerys)

Warnings for this chapter: grief/mourning, other than that we're good.

Words: 2800

A/n: Originally posted on AO3, posting to Tumblr before I get back to regular updates.

Something drags her through the darkness and she wakes with a deep and desperate gasp. 

Her eyes dart open. The sky is a glaring grey.

Her lungs burn, fighting against the air she knows she needs. 

The surface of her skin is numb but every other part of her body hurts.

Everything hurts.

Her hands find the ground beneath her, clawing at something cold and grainy, scratching at her fingers like tiny shards of glass. 

She just about has the strength to turn onto her side to wretch up an impressive amount of seawater, some of it from her gut, some of it from her lungs.

A roaring rushes over her ears and she freezes. She blinks through the haze in her vision. She sees water, a greyish green, washing over the shore.

Her eyes turn up to the sky. Her lids are heavy but she forces them to stay open. She sees no movement other than the clouds drifting on the wind.

Something is missing, she can feel the absence in her chest.

Eventually she starts to remember in fragments. The open jaws of a dragon, a burst of red as her cloak flew from her shoulders, the weightlessness as she fell. It still feels like she’s falling.

And Arrax… 

A warmth runs down her cheeks that stings her skin.

Her dragon is dead.

And she is alive– she takes another burning breath to make sure– but she is not safe. If Lord Borros has declared for Aegon, nowhere in the Stormlands will be safe. 

What of her family? Perhaps they will come looking for her, but how will they know to? The only person who must know what has happened is the very same man who tried to kill her.

The same man who wouldn’t stop looking at her. Who dragged her through the Red Keep, called her “bastard”, coaxed her pleasure and left her on the floor of an empty chamber. 

Who demanded her eye.

Who let his dragon tear Arrax to pieces.

What if Aemond comes looking for her instead? What will he do when he discovers his work is not done? Will he take her eye as a prize?

She turns her body over and tries to shift her weight onto her arms but the pain is too great. She slumps back against the ground with a strained grunt. Too weak to crawl.

But where would she crawl to? She has no dragon, she cannot swim back to Dragonstone, and when she looks up all she can see is a thick line of forest. Her neck goes limp and her brow meets the sand. Too weak. Too weak to even lift her head.

So she lies there, not bothering to spit the sand out her mouth, waiting for the pain to fade but it doesn’t. It doesn’t even ease, it just seems to fester. 

She closes her eyes. She does not sleep, but somehow she dreams. She dreams she is back in her bed. She can hear the gentle crackle of a fire and feel the weight of a throw over her body. Familiar fingertips drag over her cheek, the cut beneath her eye, her lips… “NO!”

A face looks down at her. A woman, with wrinkles around her brown eyes and flecks of silver running through her raven hair. Luke’s hand is clamped around her wrist, digging through to the bone.

“There, there,” the woman says shakily, stroking her palm over Luke’s temple, “you needn’t fear me.”

Luke doesn’t believe her.

Her body still feels weightless, like she’s floating between this world and another. 

She’s vaguely aware of arms wrapping under her shoulders and legs before she’s lifted from the ground and carried from the beach, groaning and growling through the pain of the movement.

Her body settles against something harder than sand and softer than stone. It sways, rises and falls, and the sound of the sea crashes around her. The sky above her is golden now, as the sun crawls to the West and darkness starts to creep in.

An eternity passes and she’s lifted once again. When she’s placed down once more her head falls against something soft. A warmth starts to swipe over her face. Her skin feels alive underneath it, writhing and burning but it’s strangely comforting. Her chin is tilted up and fresh water runs into her lips, washing away the sand and the vile taste of salt and bile. She still shivers under her sodden riding leathers.

Voices hum in the back of her mind, grating and unfamiliar. 

“Highborn?” This voice is low and coarse.

The woman answers him. “She must be, look at her clothes.”

“How in Seven Hells did she end up here?”

“Shipwreck? Looks like she nearly drowned.”

“But there was no ship. No crew. Why don’t we ask-”

“No. The Gods must know how the poor thing has suffered, just let her rest.”

*

Luke dreams of the sky and the sea. One moment she’s soaring, cutting through a storm and unrelenting winds. Then she dives, hurtling down and plunging beneath the waves as swift and sure as an arrow.

Her pain is still present, but duller, splitting between intervals.

Hurts, she thinks, why does it hurt?

When she breaks through the surface she circles around the bay, over a castle with a single drum tower. She flies on, until the storm begins to fade and she can see green sprawling below her. She starts to descend, her eyes fixed on a stretch of shore at the edge of a forest. 

The beach is empty. Something tells her this isn’t how she left it.

Gone.

She stalks along, looking for whatever it is she has lost. She stops when she sees markings in the sand.

Gone where?

*

Her hosts are generous enough. She supposes the very fact they have allowed her into their home and offered her bed and food from their table is a charitable gesture, one not taken lightly. For that she is grateful.

The woman, whose name is Tilda, ensures she is kept warm, tending the fire and tucking the throw up to her chin. She brings hot stew, sometimes with bread, though Luke can hardly stomach anything that isn’t thin and watery. 

Kindness can only do so much. Her body burns from within but her skin is tight and shivering. Tilda does what she can, wiping the sweat from her brow and whispering assurances. “You’ll be alright, we just need to keep you warm.”

The pain in her limbs starts to fade, but worsens when she tries to move.

The pain in her chest is different. It cuts deep and it persists. She twists and writhes, biting into whatever she can get her hands on to take the edge off, the edge of the throw, her tongue, her fingers. She finds little relief. Breathing is still uncomfortable and the skin underneath the shift Tilda has leant her is painted red and purple with swollen bruises. 

Tilda tells her what she can. They are fishers, and had been on their usual sail of Shipbreaker Bay when they spotted her limp figure, lying on the shore along Rainwood. Alone. 

Luke can see the questions forming in the woman’s mind. Sometimes she’ll open her mouth as if to speak, until she stops herself.

Perhaps she should tell the truth. If they have a boat they may be able to sail her back to Dragonstone. But suppose they follow their Lord Paramount? Suppose they bow to the usurper and not her mother?

She remains silent where she can.

The man, Duncan, appears only a voice drifting in through from the main area of their house. There are no walls or doors to obstruct their words from the bed she lies in. The pair are careful to speak in whispers, and only when they believe their guest is asleep.

Luke closes her eyes and lies still as she listens.

“She cannot stay here,” Ducan says, to his wife’s protests. He hushes her. “She’s been here almost a fortnight and she’s getting no better! We don’t want a dead girl on our hands, and besides, we can’t afford to spare the food, not with winter approaching.”

“We cannot simply abandon her!”

“She needs more than we can offer. Her body is broken, she needs a Maester.”

Tilda hums in agreement.

“I wonder, if we took her Griffin’s Roost, or Storm’s End…” Luke holds her breath, “someone might pay a reward for returning a Lady to her home.”

Or a bloodthirsty, treacherous uncle…

The journey is a risk they’re both willing to make. They agree to leave the next morning.

Night falls. Luke waits until her hosts are settled in their beds and snoring. With quivering hands she peels the throw from her body. The icy night air stabs at her skin, but it is nothing compared to what will follow. 

She goes to sit up and pain shoots through her torso. It’s tempting to scream but she can’t. She can’t. Her face twists and grimaces through it. All she can do is breathe and bite down on her lip.

She props up on her other arm and hauls herself up to sit. She digs her nails into her palms. The pain dwindles. Then she brings her legs over the bed, planting her feet on the floor. She hasn’t attempted to stand since she’s been here, let alone walk.

She thinks of Jace. She wonders where he is, if he will have left the Eyrie by now. She huffs through her nose. If her brother can venture to the Vale and the North on his own, then surely she can make the short distance to the door.

The first step is uncertain. She reaches behind to lean on the bed until her legs stop shaking.

The second step comes with more pain, sharp and sudden. She tastes a warm metallic tang on her tongue as her teeth sink deeper into her flesh.

At the third she can reach the wall. Her hands catch her against the stone and she keeps holding on as she continues.

Tilda has left her boots by the door. She manages to tug them on and hesitates as she reaches for a cloak. They’ve offered her so much already. She leaves it where it hangs and slips through the door.

The village is small, far smaller than the village on Dragonstone. She waits for a few moments. There are no lights, no voices, just the wind and the sea. The moon offers little light, but it is enough to spot the water’s edge and three boats stowed at the dock.

Her stomach churns. Ser Laenor was never quite able to defeat her aversion to sailing, despite all their trips around Blackwater Bay. She hated those lessons, stumbling around on the deck, burning her palms against the ropes and through all of that, vomiting over the side of the boat. She always begged not to go. She would have preferred to take Arrax for a flight, sit with her mother in her solar or go to the library to find her favourite uncle.

Now those hours spent on the sea might just be enough to get her home. 

She trudges on, dragging her feet through the pain and the weight of her boots. The waves of the bay are tumultuous enough, she dreads to think how harsh the open sea will be. But it has to be done.

She stands on the dock before the smallest boat filled with nets, pikes and fishbones. She looks over at the endless tangles of ropes. She can hear Laenor’s voice and his gentle chuckles as he guides her hands along the lines and through the manoeuvres. Jace was always better at this than her.

“What are you doing, girl?”

The voice is sudden. Her heart almost leaps out of her skin.

Duncan stands at the end of the dock. He is tall and broad, like Ser Harwin was, but with longer black hair and a grey beard. At the best of times he doesn’t seem to be an overly warm kind of man, but there’s something about the way he stands that puts her on edge, his legs a little apart, arms hovering by his sides and knuckles twitching.

“I’m sorry,” she utters through a dry throat, “I am grateful for what you’ve done for me but I cannot go to Storm’s End.”

The wood trembles beneath her feet as he starts to stalk towards her. “Why not?”

She presses her thumbnails into her fingers. Because the realm is descending into war. Because my uncle thinks me a traitor and will have my head if he finds me. “I fear I would not be welcome there.”

“And why’s that?” He’s halved the distance between them now. She takes a step back and he compensates for it, edging closer and closer. 

“Please, I just want to go home.”

“And where is home, girl?”

Her eyes start to sting.

Home was Ser Laenor binding the rope burns on her hands and feeding her ginger cake when they returned from their voyages. Home was Ser Harwin cradling her in his arms whenever she said she was too tired to walk. Home was dancing lessons with Helaena. Home was exchanging peculiar faces with Aegon through courtly functions and giggling until neither of them could breathe. Home was the rare occasions she could get Aemond to smile. 

Home is her mother, her family, her brothers, Jace and Joff.

Home is scattered now.

Duncan takes a final stride towards her and takes a fistful of her hair. She screeches at the sensation pulling on her scalp and the searing pain in her chest. “GET OFF–”

He twists her around and presses a thick hand over her mouth. “Now,” he huffs into her ear, “this doesn’t need to be difficult. We will make for Storm’s End and your family will pay a pretty price for your return I’m sure.”

She fights as best as she can, jabbing at him with her elbows and knocking her head against his chest but each strike drains her.

He starts to drag her back along the dock. “Stop fucking struggling,” he hisses, pressing down on the bruises over her ribs.

She screams against him, pushes against his arms, tries to clamp her teeth into his skin, but nothing dispels him.

Her body feels weightless, lost, like she’s not truly where she is.

Her eye is drawn to a movement across the bay. Perhaps her mind is still addled. Perhaps it is the tears pooling in her eyes, because when she looks up she sees nothing but black. 

And then she sees something on the water. At first she thinks it is a boat, but the shape is wrong. It hurtles closer and closer, appearing larger with every moment that passes, until she can see that it isn’t on the water at all, it’s over it.

A figure swoops up before it meets the dock, dragging a colossal wave of water up with it.

A dragon hovers before them, the beat of its wings sending them both stumbling back.

It's no dragon she recognises. It is large than Arrax, closer in size to Syrax so she guesses, with a long, round snout and its scales are a pale grey, like morning mist.

It opens its jaws and unleashes a harrowing, screeching roar that pierces her ears and rumbles through her bones.

Luke drops unceremoniously as Duncan flees. She curls over herself, panting through the agony, but she keeps her eyes on the beast before her.

The dock creaks under the weight as the dragon settles. It glares at her, through black slits in wide yellow eyes.

There are gashes all over its flesh, all old, brown and mostly healed. There is one above its mouth to reveal the teeth and bone underneath. It has no saddle, she wonders if one might even fit with the spikes lining down its spine. 

“Dohaeragon,” she whimpers. Help.

A clawed foot steps towards her, and the dragon bows.

With the last of her strength she drags herself to its side and climbs, settling at the base of the dragon’s neck, where she can sit without being impaled. She falls against it and her eyes flutter closed.

She parts her lips but the words will not come. 

Nevertheless the dragon takes flight, climbing higher through the wind until they break through the clouds and the sound of the sea is gone.

It’s not her own thought but she hears it. Home.

The wind is harsh against her skin but there’s warmth too, radiating through the dragon’s hide. She has never felt so weak, but here, above the clouds once again, clinging onto the final dregs of life that she has, she has never been so aware of her own heartbeat.

Tags: @randomdragonfires @boundlessfantasy @toodlesxcuddles @starwarssslut (totally not added retroactively because i forgot)

#forgot the tags AGAIN #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond x oc #aemond x ofc #aemond x fem!lucerys #hotd #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #aemond x original female character #aemond x reader #my fics #karma is a god

[jaegonsmoon]

Not the same anon but I have something written along those lines, it needs to be edited because things are tough irl but by tomorrow or Tuesday I might sit down and post it for you. As for an idea for you for a drabble... what do you say about the first flight together?

oh that’s so great! I would love to read it 🫶❤️ lmk when you do!

As for their first flight together, depending on the situation… This is post-Dance, Blacks win!

After Arrax’s death it takes Lucerys a while to come to terms if he wants a new dragon. Eventually, he tames Grey Ghost. He had the option of getting a new dragon egg, but he refused. His cradle mate will forever hold that special place in his heart. So he decides to go for a wild dragon. He and Grey Ghost have a friendly bond. The dragon understands Lucerys’ lost quickly, and he helps an emptiness and bitterness that Lucerys thought would never leave him.

It takes him years before he flies again, and in those years Aemond has earned a place in Lucerys’ life. It was hard, and it still is sometimes. It took years as well to warm up to Vhagar, but eventually Luke understood that it wasn’t truly her fault at the core, she was an ancient dragon that relied on her instincts. The first time Luke decides to fly, he tells Aemond a month prior. The first time he just says “I think I want to fly.” And leaves the room with a shocked on his boots Aemond behind. He doesn’t mention it again until three days later. Aemond is too wary to bring it up so he waits. He knows better than to push Luke when it comes to these topics, still a fragile thread after all those years.

“Would you… commission a saddle for me?” Luke asks, playing with his fingers in that subtly anxious manner that is so familiar to his Queen mother. “I’ve tried, but I still can’t bring myself to do it.”

“Of course. Leave everything to me.” Aemond says, taking his hands and pulling him close slowly; lips pressing to his forehead till Luke sighs in relief.

When the saddle is ready, Aemond tells Luke in the middle of the, long after their coupling when they’re sated and at ease. Lucerys takes a while to give him any type of reaction but eventually he does. He nods and takes Aemond’s fingers in his hands, tracing each one with his own fingertips. “We will try tomorrow.” He says finally. Aemond kisses him good night.

Come morning they’re in the land near the dragonpit where Vhagar sleeps and Grey Ghost, once he decided to leave his cave and permanently make his stay around King’s Landing, keeps his old lady friend company. He has the saddle mounted, it wasn’t an easy task for the dragonkeepers, it took hours to calm him down but Luke convinced him eventually.

Lucerys looks at Aemond when it’s time to climb up, and swallows. “You don’t have to do it now.” Says Aemomd, voice gentle.

Lucerys shakes his head. “I want to.” He looks up and hooks his hand around the ladder, but doesn’t move. “Fly with me.”

“I will. We will be right beside you.”

“No… ride with me.”

Aemond frowns, looking at the saddle. “I don’t think it’s big enough for two, darling.”

Lucerys rolls his eyes. “I will use you as my saddle.” He insists, cheekily. Then his smile falls and his nervousness filters in. “Please?”

“Alright.” He agrees. “But if your dragon throws me overboard it will be your slaying.”

“Dramatic little man,” Luke laughs as he watches with glee how Aemond whispers something to Grey Ghots, making the dragon huff but it stays calm when Aemond starts to climb up to him. Luke finally takes a deep breath, pets the dragon snout and then climbs up.

Once they’re settled, Aemond hooks both of his arms around Lucerys’ waist and settles his chin on his shoulder. “You navigate, I serve as a human seatbelt.” He whispers in his ear, making the other young man shudder and giggle.

“Grey Ghost, sovês!” And just like that, they’re up in the sky again. This time the only fire is that of their tight embrace.

#always throw delicious content my way #i will be here like a ducky waiting for bread #I wrote this with surprising ease maybe there’s still hope for my brain juices omg #lucemond #aemond x lucerys #aemond targaryen #lucerys velaryon #lucerys x aemond #fated feud #lucemond fic

[loveoaths]

🌹

The Father, The Son, and the Unholy Ghost: Luke likes Din. Din likes Luke. Din is less crazy about Luke's insane, evil father who keeps trying to kill him from beyond the grave.

In Din’s defense, he’s never been much of a drinker.

So when Luke sets a bottle of cheap liquor on the hotel suite counter, looks up at him through this thick blonde lashes, and asks, “Ever done a handle pull?” with that sneaky grin, Din is already half-way to drunk. 

The liquor just hastens the inevitable. 

The last thing he remembers is Luke laughing too hard at something terrifying he’d said — No matter what Din tells him, Luke never seems to get squeamish, and that’s something Din likes about him: he knows there’s more blood on Din’s hands than skin, yet he still lays those long fingers over worn gloves with an ease that reminds Din that, actually, Luke’s body count is much, much higher than his own — and then he remembers Luke floating their glasses in the air with one hand, his other hand running up his arm to the broken seal around his neck, warm knuckles brushing against exposed brown skin. Din had swallowed, torn between acknowledging the touch and ignoring it in case he was misreading the situation. He’d chosen the latter. He nodded his helmed head toward the glasses.

“Cool Jedi trick,” he’d said, like an idiot.

And Luke, bright, terrifying, ridiculous, gorgeous Luke, had fixed him with a look like molten silver and tipped his chin back toward the bedroom door behind them.

“Thanks. Wanna see a cooler one?”

A more suave man would have had a line ready to reel him in, but seeing as hearing those words nearly killed him, Din’s just glad he could fumble out a quiet “Y-yes please,” before Luke changed his mind.

When he wakes up, he feels like he’s run over by a transport, and then seven more after that. In the dark, Din rolls over with a groan and immediately regrets it: his breath is sour and overwhelming inside the helmet, which is backwards. He lifts a hand to right it when something tightens around his naked waist.

He’s desperately trying to remember where his blaster is when the something shifts and strokes hot up his bare stomach, and Din freezes. 

Slowly, carefully, quietly, Din works his helmet right way forward, and looks down.

An arm. An arm is wrapped around him.

Luke Skywalker’s arm.

He is in bed with Luke kriffing Skywalker.

For the first time in his life, Din wants to throw up and grin at the same time.

Din relaxes, slowly, pressing back into unfamiliar pillows and turning to look down at the messy blonde mop poking out of the sea of blankets. As if by instinct, Luke turns sleepily toward him and shoves his face against Din’s chest with a warm, unintelligible murmur.

Din dares to settle beside him and stroke a golden lock. The curtains are drawn shut, but he wishes he could steal over to pull them open a sliver, if only to watch a strip of light set it aglow. He smiles a secret smile down at him, ignoring the way his heart shudders to life in his chest like a vintage cruiser raring for one last race.

What he cannot ignore, however, is the furious blue glare hovering over Luke’s sleeping sun-kissed shoulder.

“YOU.”

To his credit, Din does not jump or curse, despite the disorienting hangover. He instead snatches the small vibrodagger sheathed between the mattress and the headboard and jams it into the figure’s jugular — 

It passes right through, no more than an impotent suggestion.

“If you’d had this sense of self preservation last night, you wouldn’t be here,” the figure snarls and presses forward, pushing through Luke’s sleeping face to fix Din with a bloodcurdling sneer. "At least you've more vim than the last one." The last one? Din ignores the way his heart sinks and slashes at its head this time. The vibrodagger passes through once more. The figure snickers. “Oh, please. It would take more than that to kill me if I weren’t already dead."

Din retracts the blade for Luke’s safety, but keeps it in his hand, braced for attack. Blinking through sleep and confusion, Din tries to understand what he’s seeing. A man. A handsome man with knives for cheeks and sour gold eyes and a strange, breathy voice, not unlike someone speaking through an outdated rebreather. Shiny slivers of fractured durasteel and shattered black armor circle his head like a crown of ruin. Long brown hair waves to tanned shoulders fissured through with cracks of throbbing red and orange and yellow, and where hair and skin meet, the follicles burst into sickly flame. His hands are wicked black metal curdled with smoke, and they grasp desperately for Din’s throat, but they, too, pass through. The man clicks his tongue like he expected this, but is annoyed by it nonetheless.

Din wraps his arm around Luke’s back and pulls him toward him protectively. The man’s eyes immediately drop to the hand on Luke’s back and for a moment Din swears he sees them glow. “What are you?”

“Your worst nightmare,” the apparition sneers. With a crack Din feels in his bones, the shade grows, looming impossibly large in the small room, “I am Luke’s father. You will know me as… DARTH VADER.”

His voice whips through the room, an unholy heat radiating from his furious form.

A pregnant silence settles into the room.

The figure pauses, as if expecting something.

After a moment, Din realizes he’s waiting for a reaction.

Din looks down at Luke — still asleep in his arms, somehow, and something about that makes Din's heart squeeze — and then back up at hell’s most flamboyant reject.

“Sorry,” Din clips, wondering idly if ghosts can burn people to death, and if so, how badly that would hurt, “Darth who?”

#Din Djarin has never seen a single star war #dinluke #The Mandalorian fic #fic tag. #dinluke fic. #lol i freewrote this this morning and did not edit. take it. #netsurai #i am failing this fic meme soooo badly. 'post one sentence.' bitch take a page. #the father the son and the unholy ghost

[invisibleraven]

Helping your friend move to another place, coming across the teddy bear you gave them ages ago for the rarepair of your choice, please

Alex surveyed his rom, breathing out slowly, trying to calm himself. He knew he didn't really have time to waste, but how does one decide what to pack when you had a lifetime of memories and limited time? He was shocked his parents gave him the hour they did, but he could feeling his father's eyes boring into his skull and the clock simultaneously, so with a quick 911 to the group chat, he got to work.

Clothes was first, shoving a much as he could into the oversized duffel that lived in his closet. All the stuffy, conservative, Christian stuff stayed behind, making more room for his more flamboyant choices.

Alex shouldn't have been surprised when he looked up and there was Reggie climbing in his window. "Oh shit," he whispered as he took in the bag on the bed. "They kick you out?"

"Yup," Alex replied, popping the p. "I've got like 45 minutes to get gone, so help me pack would ya?"

Reggie gave a mock salute, but the expression on his face was decidedly grim as he began placing books he knew Alex loved into one of the boxes Alex had snagged. Luke and Julie came next, though Julie opted for the front door rather than the window, and was thus still shivering from the frosty reception. She wordlessly grabbed a re-usable shopping bag and started on Alex's ensuite, while Luke began taking loved mementos off the wall and shelves.

Alex knew he should say thank you to his bandmates, but his voice was stuck in his throat. They all knew this was coming, given Alex was now graduated and 18-his parents had made that blatantly clear. No homos under their roof, and since Alex refused to go back into the closet or attend the camp his parents had oh so subtly been leaving brochures about, he was now essentially homeless.

Well, that wasn't true, Julie's aunt had offered up her guest room to him, and Alex was more than happy to accept. Sure Tia Victoria wasn't the most freewheeling kind of lady, but she was part of the queer community, a social worker, an amazing cook, and a loving person, so she ranked miles above his own family. Besides, before too long the band would have their first album out and on the road, and he'd have enough for his own place.

"Hey Mr. Bun!" Reggie exclaimed, holding up the worn pink bunny rabbit toy that had been wedged beneath Alex's pillow, then hugging it tight. "I didn't know you still had him!"

Alex blushed, rubbing back the of his neck, feeling the skin there was almost scalding from his blush. "Well you gave him to me, I had to keep him."

Which was true. Reggie had worn Mr. Bun at the arcade when they were kids-playing endless games of Whack-A-Mole and PacMan to earn enough tokens. And handed Alex the bunny-the pink one he never would have picked for himself. Insisting that Alex have him as a thank you for sharing his lunches over the past few months after his parents stopped packing his when his dad lost is job.

Since then Mr. Bun had been a source of comfort for Alex, something soft for him to hug when his anxiety got too bad, when the nightmares became too much. Mr. Bun absorbed his tears, his fears, his secrets, and even though he was surely too old for a stuffed animal, he could never give him up.

Alex heard Luke sniggering, and while he braced for teasing, he saw it was actually directed at Reggie who was the same colour as his flannel. Who was holding the bunny tight, and avoiding Alex's eyes.

Oh.

Alex bit his lip, wishing he had the time to let that revelation wash over him, but time was ticking down. But he also couldn't not say anything, so he approached Reggie, easing the bunny from his hand, tossing it towards his duffel. "Reg... when all this is settled, maybe we could go win Mr. Bun a friend?"

"I-I'd like that," Reggie admitted. "Maybe get a slice after?"

"Sounds perfect," Alex replied, offering him a smile. "But for now..."

"Right," Reggie nodded. "It'll keep."

The last fifteen minutes were frantic, ensuring that everything was packed, tossed into the bed of Reggie's truck and Luke's Jeep, though Alex was amazed they managed to pack enough to fill both.

He gave his room one last glance-bare walls with darker spots on the wall where his posters once lived. Half filled shelves, drawers, and closet rails. He grabbed the last thing-a faded bunny toy-with one hand, and Reggie's with the other, not sparing his parents a glance as he left them behind.

He had a much brighter future without them, and he was taking the best part of his past with him. Of that Alex was sure.

And well, Mr. Bun found a new home next to the stuffed Chewie doll he won Reggie on the bed they came to share soon enough.

#filled prompts #ficlet #ralex #julie and the phantoms

[charlottedabookworm]

When the light flares blindingly, Jace thinks they’ve accidentally started a fire. 

The air here is stale like the deepest parts of the library in Kings Landing - like the parts that not even the maesters visit anymore, forgotten since the time of Aegon the Conqueror. This place feels the same as that had and he remembers telling his father about it. Ser Laenor had smiled at him, with that same grin that Jace shares, and warned him to be careful. Dust and old books and stale air, all it would take is a spark, kepa had told him solemnly.

Jace had nodded his head, little more than a boy and unwilling to admit that he didn’t really understand the issue. Vermax spat fire at him all the time, after all, and that was always sorted out with a quick pat of hands when his clothes caught.

He hadn’t understood.

(and then Ser Harwin had burned in the walls of his home, gone to dust when he was supposed to come back. then Aunt Laena burned under the flames of her dragon and Driftmark still smelt of her burnt flesh during the funeral. then his kepa was gone and-)

He isn’t a boy anymore. 

Light flares in this ancient, forgotten passageway with its still air and pages scattered along the stone floor, dust coating every inch of it all and Jace reaches for his brother before he thinks, fear flooding through him and-

The light fades. 

He blinks.

Daemon? He thinks, wondering why his stepfather had cut his hair. Wondering where his muna is - Daemon shouldn’t, wouldn’t, have left her, not when Grandsire is dead, not when-

He stills. 

“Jace?” Luke asks slowly, his brother’s arm still held tight in his hand. “Is that qȳbor Egg?”

He wants to say no. It cannot be. Aegon is in the Red Keep, is being crowned as they speak, is an usurper and a man-grown and- And there is a babe in front of them with Targaryen hair and Targaryen eyes and the rounded face of a Hightower. A babe younger than even little Vis is. 

A babe cradled in the arms of a man who can only be Viserys Targaryen, first of his name, King of the Andals and the First Men.

“Why-” Their grandsire clears his throat with a hand that still has most of his fingers, brushing hair away from a face still unhidden by a golden mask. Viserys Targaryen holds his back straight with the ease of a man who is not a breath away from being taken by the Stranger. “Why do you have Dark Sister?”

“Kepa says I need to get used to the weight!” His brother bursts out, his chest puffed up proudly. “Since Blackfyre will be Jace’s and Dark Sister will be mine, one day!”

It is something to be proud of. His brother can beat him half the time, now, and Daemon deeming him worthy of even carrying Dark Sister - even if they both know the man would never have let the sword out of his sight if they’d known what the morn would bring - is a symbol of his work and skill. One of the greatest swordsmen in the realm thinks that his brother is good enough to carry a valyrian steel sword and Daemon would never have done so if Luke wasn’t.

His brother deserves this and he knows that Luke hasn’t even noticed his slip.

Jacaerys does.

He notices his brother’s slip and he sees his grandsires eyes widen. He sees the short-haired figure of his stepfather still, Daemon’s gaze darting between them. Trailing his gaze along the high table, he sees who can only be his muna and his kepa sitting side by side and he notices the way they look at his brother.

Oh, he thinks, glancing over his valonqar. 

They’d chosen to wear their more usual formal tunics today, now that the matter of Lord Corlys’ succession had been resolved, and Luke stands there in a tunic emblazoned proudly with the Targaryen and Velaryon sigils and coated in dust.

Dust that turns his hair grey, almost the exact same shade as their kepa’s, for all that his hair is straighter; like their muna’s. 

Luke’s hair is grey and he is smiling with the smile he shares with their muna and against the red stitching of his tunic Lucerys’ eyes look to sheen purple and he called Daemon kepa and-

Oh. Jace thinks and the irony is not lost on him.

To anyone looking, Luke could be a trueborn Velaryon, by blood and not simply by a gifted name and the love of their father. He looks like a trueborn Heir to Driftmark, wearing Dark Sister proudly upon his hip.

Then those gazes move from his brother to him and-

Jace knows he looks like a Strong. He has his papa’s curls and his grandsires eyes, for all he can hardly remember the men outside of his muna’s stories, but he smiles like his kepa and he has his muna’s face and he’s proud of every part of his heritage. Jace exists because he is loved, by all of his parents, but-

But his family - this too-young family - looks at him and Jacaerys Velaryon is his muna’s son, raised to be the future Heir to the Iron Throne, and he has been reading lineage trees since he could read. 

He looks like a Strong, and a Targaryen, but his grandmother was an Arryn by name and blood before she married Viserys. Aemma Arryn may have looked the Blood of the Dragon, but that was not all she was, and he knows that House Arryn has intermarried with House Strong and-

His grandsires eyes soften when looking at them both, something alike wondrous understanding dawning in his eyes even as the same grief lines his face as when he looks at their muna.

Jace realises as sees the panic flicker across Alicent Hightower’s face that, for the first time in his life, he is not being thought of as a Strong Boy. He is being thought of as Aemma Targaryen’s grandson. 

They believe he takes after his great-grandmother. 

More than that, he realises, watching as all in the hall turn to three rather than two, they think…

Well, he thinks and the smirk that spreads across his lips is entirely his step-father’s. He doesn’t know how they’re here, he doesn’t know how they’ll get back. He wants to go home to his muna and his step-father and their siblings and Baela and Rhaena. He wants to go home. He wants to help.

Jacaerys Velaryon is his muna’s heir. Muna will not let them fight, but maybe-

Maybe they can help with the war. Maybe they can stop it before it would even begins. 

After all…

“You know what kepa is like, muna, grandsire,” Jace says, catching their eyes and gesturing towards Daemon with a roll of his own. He spreads his hands, seemingly helpless. “Lucerys is very good with a blade, though, so muna couldn’t argue too hard.” He waits for a heartbeat, catching their attention just as a Velaryon reels in a fish. “Don’t worry, muna,” he says, letting his smirk soften into something more sympathetic. “You managed to convince kepa that little Viserys doesn’t need a Galley for his first nameday.” This time, he flickers his eyes towards his kepa - the man who loved them so much he gifted them his name and called them his sons and never once faltered in the face of everyone calling them bastards. “He still commissioned a cog, though.”

The words sit in the air around them like a keg of wildfire. 

Luke - his beautiful, brilliant, watchful brother - just steps up to his side and grins at their muna. “You kicked them bother off of Dragonstone for a whole sennight, after.” His brother says the words happily like he is sharing a joke, like a child who finds it funny. Like he is a boy who has been raised his entire life with two fathers, openly, properly, and legally. 

Like a dragon, striking at its unknowing prey. 

After all, Aegon the Conqueror had had two wives.

And who is to say their muna does not have two husbands? 

#fic idea #hotd #my fic #snippet #time travel #love jace going huh i can fuck with them all and fix everything #and luke just going huh i see what you're doing and playing along like the best boy he is #neither of these boys are dumb #and if they can convince everyone that rhae/laenor/daemon have always been married then the hightowers won't have a leg to stand on

[takadasaiko]

A Flicker of Light Chapter Eighteen

Story Summary: A canon divergent AU in which Luke Skywalker is raised within the Empire to be either his father's heir as a Sith Lord… or his replacement.

Chapter Summary: Luke makes a deal with Bail Organa.

FFN II AO3

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Luke had played the scenario over and over again in his mind on the flight to Alderaan, all the while hoping to spark some kind of glimpse into the future. He had imagined what he had thought was every different angle this conversation could play out. Best case - far fetched as it was - Organa would accept the intel and the two of them would settle on the terms of the arrangement. The absolute worst case - equally as far fetched, he thought - was that the Senator would turn him over to Palpatine for treason. There was a whole range of possibilities between those two, but in every scenario he'd assumed Organa would say something. This utter silence was deafening. And nerve wracking. It was grating on already dangerously frayed nerves.

He pushed a quick breath out through his nose. "Did you hear when I said this is time sensitive?"

"Does he know?"

Luke set his jaw, willing the calm into his voice. "You're going to have to be more specific."

"Your father. About my daughter."

"You're focusing on the wrong thing. Palpatine has —"

"Does your father know about my daughter?" Bail Organa ground out as he stood, using his desk to leverage himself. "If you've put her in danger…"

"He wouldn't hurt her."

It was Organa's turn to give a dismissive snort, but he looked to swallow the immediate response before it tumbled into the open where it couldn't be taken back. He still stood stiffly, leaning slightly on the massive desk between them, and his dark gaze bore into Luke. "You may believe that, but nothing else - no matter what it is - will be discussed until you answer my question."

Luke pulled in a breath. This was a waste of time, but he didn't have a choice. Organa was balanced perfectly in a place of access and - at least as far as his mother had believed - trustworthiness. Without him, Luke had no way to reach anyone that could help him destroy the monstrosity Sidious was building. Everything had a cost, and as absurd and petty as Organa's fear was, the truth seemed to be the price of being heard out on this.

Slowly, Luke released the breath. "It's not my secret to tell, and there's no reason for him to think I'm anything but an only child."

Organa's tense stance eased ever so slightly. "You knew."

The younger man shrugged. "I felt it when I met her, but it was just a hunch. I didn't know for sure until I saw this." He reached into his robes and pulled the disk he'd taken to carrying around with him. Organa's eyes widened as Padmé Amadala's smiling face appeared. "No one but me knows why I went looking. I won't be the one to tell anybody."

"Not even Leia?"

Luke flicked his thumb across the switch, the image disappearing. "It's not my secret to tell," he repeated carefully. Though he imagined Leia would find out someday. The Force was strong with her. It would lead her where she needed to go.

A long moment passed before Organa finally nodded, accepting the statement as truth.

"I'm coming here as much for her as I am for us," Luke said firmly, trying to steer the conversation back on topic. "The ISB has never been able to prove that your diplomatic missions are a cover to provide aid to the Rebellion and your seat in the Senate has protected you, but if the Death Star is completed, there'll be no need for the Senate. Palpatine will rule by pure, brutal force."

"Something that destructive, how could it even be powered?"

"Kyber crystals. The same that power a lightsaber. Just…. Bigger, I imagine. I've gotten ahold of the director of the project and he thinks Palpatine sent me to confirm everything is on schedule. I gave him two standard weeks to prove to me he's even capable of scaling the power source."

The colour washed out of Organa's face. "You're going to destroy a planet?"

"No. That'd bring all eyes on it. It'll be subtle. But my point is I have his ear and he's desperate to prove himself. I can get you information on it."

"And what do you expect me to do with that?"

"Don't play games. The ISB can't prove it, but we all know you have links to the Rebellion. They have firepower. Maybe not enough to overthrow the Empire, but if I can find a weakness in the design —"

"And what do you want in return?"

And this is where things got tricky. It was the only way he survived this. That his father survived. The problem was that voicing it in any other way than a vague dream to Mara left him terrified. This was treason. Active, intentional treason.

"A way out. For me, for my father, and a… friend, if she'll come. We'd all be able to bring in more intelligence than a hundred of your Fulcrum agents could ever dream of."

Organa's brows drew together, his tone skeptical as he spoke. "And your father wants this?"

"Father knows the two of us don't survive if Palpatine does. He's always known that. This may not be… how he planned to deal with it, but we have to do something. If he has to choose - really has to choose - he'll choose me."

A sigh escaped the older man and he shook his head. "Natus —"

"Luke," he corrected, "but you already knew that."

"It's the name your mother gave you."

"I'll handle Father and get you the intel. I need your word that when this comes out - because Sidious sees everything eventually - we have a place to go."

"I can't unilaterally make that decision," Organa said softly.

Luke stood in the room, his sister's adopted father refusing to meet his eyes now. He felt exposed, even more than he had been before, but as he searched for the right path forward, dark eyes met his. "But I've been told I'm very persuasive. Get the intel, Luke, and I give you my word that you won't be standing alone in this. I'll make sure you're all protected."

The young Imperial loosed a surprisingly shaky breath and nodded. But then a flicker through the Foce caught his attention. The only warning he felt before the door burst open.

—-

Luke. The name was bizarrely familiar, even if it wasn't a common name on Alderaan or any name that stood out from her travels. Even so, the name had come crashing down into place, fitting in ways Natus never did. While Leia was relatively certain that Natus and Vader were not the son and father's given names, logic reminded her that Natus wouldn't have given his real name to a scruffy looking smuggler that would sell it to the highest bidder once he'd parted ways with the younger man. Even so…. the name clicked into place like a missing piece on a droid undergoing repairs. She couldn't explain it, but she knew it, and in her experience her instincts on matters like this were rarely wrong.

"You know you're going to get me in a lot of trouble," Solo said from a few steps behind her, his gait slower despite his height. Where Leia moved with urgency, her steps quick and precise, Solo seemed to be trying to buy time with his hands in his pockets, his slower steps, and the way he kept hanging back.

"I'll handle Natus."

"You seem real sure the guy I brought in is this Natus friend of yours."

"We're not friends," Leia countered and she could practically feel him quirk an eyebrow at her.

Suddenly - and irritatingly smoothly - he'd picked up the pace and had appeared at her side, confirming the quirked eyebrow and a lopsided smirk to accompany it. "Boyfriend then?"

"Certainly not."

Solo hummed softly at that, the smirk only broadening as if he were somehow invested in the answer. She huffed and turned her attention back to the office door they were approaching, channeling all of her irritation with the smug pilot into the quick shove she gave to them, barreling in without warning.

And there he was. Vader's own son standing with her father and she could feel the last tendrils of his attempted mind control burning away with her anger as his blue eyes met her own brown. "Leia," he breathed. "What are you—"

"You want to play Sith mind games with me, this is what you get," she snapped. "I found why there was no record of you coming to Alderaan. A smuggler? What could possibly be so —"

"Solo?" Natus demanded, gaze snapping behind her like he'd just realized the pilot was there.

Solo, for his part, raised his hands in mock surrender. "Don't look at me. Her eminence over here -"

"I told you to stop calling me that!"

"— came barging in, throwing threats around, and —"

"Enough," Father cut in, almost forgotten from where he'd been standing with Natus. "Leia, what do you mean by Sith mind games?"

Leia saw Natus tense a little at that and she had to struggle to keep her expression even. "He can manipulate some people to do what he wants. He tried it on me, but it didn't work."

"And you couldn't just tell me that at the time?" Natus groused.

"Usually you can find more information if you dig a little deeper rather than just relying on a liar's word."

"I didn't lie to you. I was trying to protect you."

"I don't need your protection, Luke."

It had been an impulse decision to see how he reacted to the name, and Vader's son certainly reacted. Something shifted in the air, almost like a chill had settled over them. His eyes - usually light and amused when he spoke with her - turned hard and the door slammed shut behind her without anyone touching it. Every one of his muscles must have been tensed.

But, strangely enough, it was her father that spoke. "Where did you hear that name?"

Leia blinked in confusion. Why would he know it?

"Kriff it all, Mara," Natus - or perhaps Luke - snarled under his breath and he turned that dangerous look on Solo. "She should never have used it with you."

Solo took a step back, real fear creeping into his expression. "Listen, I don't know what's going on. I just gave her the fake name your friend gave me. It's fake, right? Don't know, don't care. I'm just here to fly you in and out and get paid. No need to—" Solo choked to a stop, eyes widening and Leia saw Luke's head tilt ever so slightly, his fingers twitching at his side, and Solo couldn't seem to catch his breath.

"No!" Leia shouted, realizing what he was doing. "I brought him into this. I —"

"Luke, stop," her father said as he reached a hand out, clasping the younger man's shoulder. "You dragged him into this. He's an innocent bystander."

"That could now get us all killed."

Solo choked again and Leia looked between the three men frantically. She couldn't stop it. She had only wanted answers and now something that had been said had set Natus off.

"Then we make sure that his loyalty is with us. I imagine it can be bought, can't it, Captain?"

Solo nodded emphatically, but Natus didn't seem convinced just yet.

Leia's father loosed a shaky breath. "Luke, I know you don't remember your mother, but I do. You're right that she was my friend and that we trusted each other. I can tell you she wouldn't want you to hurt an innocent man."

There was a beat of quiet, save for Solo's desperate attempt to breathe, but then something changed in those blue eyes and Luke released the captain. Solo sucked in a lungful of air and dropped to his knees. Leia knelt with him, a hand on his back and coaxing him through it.

"You have two options, Solo," Natus said, his voice strained and raw. "You can continue to help me get to where I need to go when the Empire can't know and be paid handsomely for it or you can betray me. Neither the Senator or his daughter can save you if it's the latter."

"There an option in there where I just walk away?" Solo coughed out.

"No."

There was a long moment, but there really wasn't a. Voice to be made. Solo cleared his throat and gave a small nod, a forced nonchalance in his tone. "It's gonna be a hefty fee."

"You'll be paid. Regularly and in full each time."

Slowly - and steadier than Leia might have anticipated - the smuggler got to his feet and rubbed at his throat. "You got yourself a deal then."

The chill dissipated and Leia saw her father sigh heavily. "Alright. You should know what you're getting into —"

"No. Absolutely not," Solo countered with raised hands and a step back. "I'm just the pilot. I'm here to get paid, not get into the middle of whatever this is. Less I know the better."

Leia's gaze shifted between each of the men, but she was the one who spoke. "You better be there when he needs to leave."

"I like my head attached to my neck. Not crossing him, sweetheart."

He pivoted towards the door, leaving the three remaining. Leia turned back to them. "He may want to be kept out of the loop, but I don't. I won't be kept out. Start talking."

"Take a seat," her father instructed in that tone that said he knew he didn't have another choice. "We'll get you caught up."

—-

It was dangerous to have the Aeres orbiting the planet, but it added a sense of authority to the demands Luke had made. He hadn't told his crew anything but to remain steady over the north-western hemisphere, which would keep them on the opposite side of the planet that Krennic planned to use for the experiment, and to shut down the sensors that might pick up on said experiment.

The planet had been inhabited once, but after nearly twenty years of being used for various Imperial experiments, all that remained was a desolate wasteland in the Outer Rim that no longer even had a name. Only a number was left: EX1003, and along with the name and its former inhabitants, the history of the world had been wiped from existence as well. It was strange and it was eerie, but in a way that Luke didn't think would have bothered him before. It wouldn't have bothered him now if they weren't there to test a weapon that could erase the existence of any planet that Darth Sidious chose on his whim.

Luke rarely wore a military uniform, opting instead for dark robes that allowed him to move easier when an inevitable battle erupted around him, but he'd pulled the crisp white uniform from the back of his closet. It was stiff and limited his stride. The uniform boots were louder and his shuttle was met with an irritating number of crewmen.

"My Lord Natus," Krennic greeted, giving a small bow so that his cape swept out. "Welcome."

"All this wasn't needed," Luke answered with a sharp wave towards the men and women in Impirial Navy uniforms lined up along the sides of the walkway. "I'm sure they have duties they could be seeing to."

"Of course, my lord. It's just…. protocol, of course, when a ranking member such as your father or yourself or -"

"And what rank is that?"

That stopped him and he cleared his throat, seemingly desperate to hide his discomfort. He was nervous, which either meant that he expected this to go poorly, that Tarkin had been pushing down on him again, or both.

Luke met his gaze. "I'm not Tarkin. There's no need for some grand gesture, Director. Only results." From the way Krennic's tenseness eased just a little, it looked like Tarkin was the culprit.

"Of course, my lord. Your time is valuable, and I shouldn't want to waste any of it."

They moved together and the crewmen dispersed behind them, eager to get back to whatever work they had to do rather than stand at full attention to welcome Vader's son for a minute longer. Luke glanced out of the corner of his eye, watching Krennic. "You've said nothing of this to Tarkin."

The director appeared startled by the question given as a statement, but recovered relatively quickly. "No, my lord. You had mentioned that he might -"

"Try to step in? You and I both know he would. He's here for the glory. I'm here to further the Empire and make sure that our enemies are dealt with in the most efficient way possible."

Krennic nodded eagerly to that. "Of course. You'll see today that this weapon will have the capacity to bring any Rebellion to its knees before it ever gains footing."

"And the lead scientists on this? I'd like to meet them today. If things go well, congratulations will be in order." And if not, the whole Empire knew what his father would have done to them. The threat was certainly easy to hear in the unspoken words.

"I'm…. afraid he's still on Eadu. With the construction near completion, the refining of the additional crystals needed to bring the Death Star to full power has their focus."

Which made sense, of course, but Luke had hoped this would be his in to find out exactly who was working beneath Krennic. The whole program was a blackhole of information and he didn't want to find a way to destroy the damned thing just to have another one pop up in its place. Well, at least he had a location. He could track down information from there.

They moved through the station, the halls quieter than they would be once it was fully operational. They were running on a skeleton crew for security's sake at this point, which left Luke to wonder what essential work his welcoming crew had been pulled from. Krennic was nothing if not ambitious, and while Vader likely would have been his preference, Luke represented a chance to make sure that Palpatine praised the director for all of his accomplishments rather than Tarkin.

Doors slid open to allow them access to the battle station's bridge. A few men and women scurried - likely having taken a different route back to their stations so that they didn't appear to rush past their director and Lord Natus - but Luke's gaze was fixed on the viewport. He recognized the upgraded window that could be toggled between an unencumbered view of outside space, visuals piped in from the computer system, and the typical screen that blacked out the view when needed. In this case, they seemed to be following a droid on the ground that was feeding images back to them.

"I trust this test won't set off any alarms," Luke said as he watched the video sweep the desolate land below. "The Senate can't know about this yet."

"All precautions have been taken, my lord," Krennic assured him.

"And the target?"

"There's an old temple left standing in this hemisphere. We should get the exact coordinates… there we are."

Luke watched as the image flickered onto the screen. Standing tall against the ravished land around it was what he instinctively knew had been a Jedi temple. Ancient and forgotten, the decades had marched on as it had been left to neglect without the old Order to maintain it. Now, just as they had been, it would be wiped away until even the memory of it faded from the galaxy.

"My lord?" Krennic prompted.

"When you're ready, director," Luke answered, his voice smaller than it should have been. He listened to Krennic order a single reactor ignition to target the temple, and his voice might as well have been heard from down a long corridor as the younger Imperial turned to force himself to watch.

The entire base buzzed with power, gathering as the view shifted back to the planet from above, the droid that had been left to provide the coordinates not long for its existence. A chill swept through Luke as the shot went off, a single beam barreling down towards the temple and he squared his shoulders to keep himself still. It struck the planet, and even if he could no longer see the temple itself, he could feel it. The chill settled deep in his chest and spread through him as the planet exploded upward where the structure had been. It wasn't fear, but understanding. This was wrong.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Krennic asked, his voice filled with wonder as chunks of rock and plumes of fire reached up towards the atmosphere. "When completed, this base will be capable of fracturing a planet to its core and destroying it. No one will dare stand against the Empire."

"No one will be able to," Luke breathed, gathering himself. "You've done… well, director."

"Then you'll speak to the Emperor?"

Luke turned, finding the older man's eager gaze fixed on him. "I have good things to report to him, but it's not completed. I want to be kept up to date as things progress."

"Of course, my lord," Krennic answered, barely containing himself. It was what the director wanted to hear and what would keep Luke in the loop moving forward.

—

He hadn't lived a sheltered life. Violence and death had surrounded him from an early age and, just as Father had taught him, he'd learned to use it to his advantage. Very little phased him quite like each new piece of the dangerous puzzle that was Sidious' Death Star. With its completion the Emperor would have no use for both father and son to play the role of visible enforcers. The planet killer could do that work for him with no threat of pushback. The future that both Luke and Vader had known was coming for some time was rapidly becoming their present, and Luke could only hope he had time to destroy it.

No. He had to make time. The only way to do that would be to throw a wrench into the Krennic's process. He was gathering Kyber crystals from somewhere and sending them to Eadu for refinement to power the battle station's main weapon. Going directly to Eadu was risky, but he might be able to track down the mining operation and slow the process there.

Captain Renz greeted him in the hangar bay upon his return to the Aeres, putting a momentary pause to Luke's swirling thoughts as he picked through the reasons Renz wouldn't have simply waited for him on the bridge, as was their habit. The Imperial captain looked strained as he stood waiting at the bottom of the shuttle's ramp, and Luke forced himself to focus. "Captain."

"My lord," Renz greeted back, his back straight and shoulders squared.

Luke nodded and Renz fell into step with him. He didn't like the way the hesitation other man seemed unable to get around. Luke was many things, but he'd never been one to go after the messenger without cause. The only thing that sprang to mind was that Renz had overlooked a sensor that he'd been instructed to turn off to keep the Aeres from catching a signal from the Death Star, thought that wasn't probable either after all the years Renz had successfully cleaned up behind the Executor's former captain when he'd served as Commander for Luke's father. Renz was nothing if not thorough in his duties. "Whatever it is, Captain, out with it."

"We've been called away, sir."

Dread settled in. "By the Emperor?"

"No, my lord. By his Hand. She was… quite insistent. And quite perturbed by the fact that you were unreachable."

Ah. That explained the nervousness then. Mara never did like being told to wait.

"She said she would come to us and I know how sensitive you said this mission was —"

"You gave her our location?"

All at once the strain was replaced by offense. "My lord, I would never betray your confidence."

"Brave man standing up to the Emperor's Hand," Luke chuckled and his smirk broadened nearly to a smile. "Don't worry. You're under my protection. Even from her."

"Thank you, Lord Natus."

"I'll take her transmission in my quarters. Did she leave coordinates?"

"She did."

"Then let's get going." Everything else would have to wait. He didn't dare give Mara a reason to start asking questions just yet.

--

TBC

Notes: I had hit a point in this story where I had a lot of wiggle room when it came to events. It was more about keeping my own timeline straight rather than having to match it up to canon's. I took a few days to really work through to make sure everything's lined up timeline wise for the next few chapters and there'll be several cameos along the way! Some that we've seen before, some that we haven't. Anyone want to take a guess?

Next Time: Luke finds himself between his father, Mara, and his undefined new alliance with the Rebels when Mara pulls him in to help with an intelligence breach.

#Star Wars #Star Wars fanfiction #Luke Skywalker #Bail Organa #Leia Organa #Han Solo #Orson Krennic

[talkfastromance4]

Oliver's first birthday--Luke&Lily oneshot

word count: 1k

warnings: none

Luke&Lily Masterlist

Masterlist

Feedback is always welcome. Enjoy! :)

Just like he (and the others) promised, Luke took the first plane home from Leeds. Michael and Crystal were loving the time they spent with Chloe and Maddox. They’d send photos and videos daily which Posy was always excited to see.

By the time he was home, Oliver’s party was just about to start. Thankfully, Michael and Crystal came over early to help set up the decorations, it was Spider-Man themed. Lily helped as much as she could and Posy had to be reminded to give the twins some space. She listened but still sat in front of their carriers talking softly to them. 

“Mama, when’s dada coming?” Lily asks just as you put the plates on the table.

Right on cue, the front door opens, Petunia barks and does her wiggle-run towards the door and Luke’s there. 

“Daddy!” The girls shriek running towards him full speed and he hugs them tightly in his arms.

He looks over Lily’s head at you, he has dark circles under his eyes and his hair is a little ruffled but the smile he gives you puts you at ease. It’s your turn to make your way to him, he pulls you against him caressing your cheek. 

“Hi my love,” he greets quietly before pressing his lips gently to yours. 

“Hi,” you smile. “I’m glad you’re home.”

“Me too,” he smiles and the door opens again with Calum and Ashton. Lily and Posy run to say hello to their uncles. “Is our birthday boy still sleeping?”

“Mhm, he should be waking up soon. Cory and Ella should be on their way and KayKay and Rayna are picking up the cupcakes and cake.” 

Luke, Calum, and Ashton give hugs to Michael and Crystal.

“How’re the first weeks of parenting going?” Ashton asks, holding Posy easily on his hip.

“Tiring.”

“And a little maddening,” Michael chuckles. “I have constant crying in my head but they’re so great. How’re the first couple shows?” 

“Excellent, all the fans send you their love. It’s not the same without you, man,” Calum claps Michael on the back. “But where are our new niece and nephew?”

“Over here sleeping,” Crystal smiles, leading the way towards Chloe and Maddox in the living room. 

“They’re still so tiny,” Calum shakes his head grinning at them. “And cute as hell. I still can’t believe you two have twins.”

“That’s Chloe and that’s Maddox,” Posy points proudly.

“Very good Posy,” Crystal smiles.

While they converse quietly amongst themselves, Luke drags you down the hall into your bedroom. He bounces on the bed tugging you on top of him, his lips capturing yours and you can’t help but giggle into the kiss.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you ask combing your fingers through his hair.

“I just want a few moments in my bed with my wife,” he murmurs hugging himself to you. His breath tickles your neck, you play with his hair and tickle up his back. 

“Did you even sleep on the plane?” you ask.

“No, I was worried I wouldn’t get here in time.”

“Has it been hard for you to sleep?” you’re starting to get concerned. If he doesn’t get enough rest he gets sick and you know how hard on himself he is when he is sick, especially during tour time. 

“Sort of. Still getting used to the bus and not having you right next to me.”

You both sigh heavily and enjoy the rest of this moment until Oliver starts to cry.

“There’s a very special birthday boy waiting to see his daddy,” you kiss into Luke’s hair. The two of you slide off the bed walking hand in hand towards Oliver’s bedroom. 

“There’s my birthday boy!” Luke smiles at Oliver who is standing up in his crib. When he sees Luke he lets out a loud shriek and smacks his hands on the edge of the crib. When Luke picks him up his legs are kicking and Luke is kissing his cheeks. 

After changing Oliver’s diaper and putting him in his Spider-Man outfit, you’re back in the living room to see Cory, Ella, and Violetta are near the twins and KayKay is placing the cake and cupcakes on the kitchen counter. Calum and Rayna are off to the side getting reacquainted with each other. 

The party is a hit, Michael keeps trying to get a photo of Oliver with his hands in the formation Spider-Man uses to get his web out but Oliver keeps crawling to Luke. For dinner you decided on ordering pizza, it’s simple and then it’s time for Oliver to smash into his cake. You’re taking video as Oliver pokes at the red and blue frosting, taste testing it. His eyes widen and his mouth forms a perfect ‘o’ and he curls his fingers right into the cake. 

He ends up getting the frosting all over his face, his curls, and it covers his glasses so he can’t really see which makes everyone laugh. 

“I think he likes cake,” Luke smiles heading to the kitchen to get a wet washcloth. 

Michael and Crystal ended up leaving just before you were about to open presents because they had to get the twins to bed. Lily and Posy helped their brother open his gifts but he was more interested in the wrapping paper and sitting in Luke’s lap. 

“Did you miss me, bubba?” Luke rocks Oliver from side to side on the floor, he rests his cheek on top of his head giving you a sad look. “It is so hard leaving them.” 

Not knowing what to say you reach over and massage Luke’s shoulder in assurance. 

The evening ends with smores outside and then Posy and Oliver are passed out which means the party is over. You wanted to get the kids to bed and would clean up the food and presents after. 

“Dada?” Lily asks when you move into her room after settling Posy and Oliver to bed.

“Yeah my sweet?”

“Will you be here in the morning?”

“Yes,” he smiles. “I’ll make us some blueberry pancakes, how’s that sound?”

“Yummy!”

Even though Posy is asleep, Luke wants to kiss her goodnight but she wakes up and asks him to sing a song. He sings the chorus of ‘Love of My Life’ by Queen and she’s fast asleep. 

“Goodnight love bug,” Luke whispers tucking her blanket around her. 

You and Luke get ready for bed together and he sighs heavily as soon as he’s under the covers. 

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t believe he’s one already.”

“I know, and Posy’s going to be five next month.”

“I know,” Luke kisses your shoulder then cuddles into you. “They’re growing up so fast…”

You note the sadness in his voice and run your fingers in his hair.

“What is it?”

“I don’t want to miss anything.”

“You’re here now, that’s what matters. You love them so much and move heaven and earth to be with them, they know that.”

“They’re going to be sad again when I leave tomorrow night.”

“It’ll be okay, Luke,” you tilt his head up kissing his nose. “I promise.”

taglist: @calpalirwin @calumance @in-superbloom @karajaynetoday @wiiildflowerrr @sunshineeluke @littledrummeraussie @suchalonelysunflower @hoodhoran @fobodob @thew0rldneedsmcreycghurt @sunshineeashton @ashtonsunflower @mymindwide @itjustkindahappenedreally @seanna313 @mulletcal @pandaxnienke @hellasblessed @gwynethhberdara @in-a-world-of-fandoms @prentisswrites @princesslrh

#luke & lily oneshot #luke & lily fluff #dad!luke #uncle!sos #5sos writing

[ace-din-djarin]

some sw fic snippets

It’s been far too long since I’ve shared some writing here, so here’s two little bits of AUs that I do eventually want to turn into fics, but have too many WIPs currently in progress for that to happen super soon. The first is a little bit of Leia POV from a “Din, Luke, and Leia get flung into TCW era and have to deal with that” AU, and the second is “force shenanigans mean an intangible, force-ghost-esque Luke experiences moments from Din’s past and has all the feels about them”. Snippets are under the readmore. Enjoy!

Leia:

Leia breathes in, and lets her fingers move, undoing the heavy mourning braids she’s worn ever since — since. Her hair uncoils in waves, a familiar blanket falling over her back. She pictures Cara, the side of her head shorn close to the scalp, the rest of the hair no longer than shoulder length when undone from its braid. A soldier’s haircut, a soldier’s mourning - hair shorn in remembrance of the fallen, a duet of grief along with the teardrop tattoo on her cheek. Leia has – not refused, but avoided – avoided that last step, the shearing of her hair. She has more than once sat with clippers in hand, staring into the mirror and willing herself to do it, but. But she has - had? will have? - a duty as the Princess of Alderaan, a duty that lasted even when the planet was little more than space dust. She had to be an image of strength, even with everything crumbled around her. And so she had kept her hair, kept it long, but instead had bound it up in the traditional mourning braids of royalty, close and looping. But here, in this time – she can’t be royalty. She is a ghost, a figurehead with no people to lead. She thinks of Cara again, and starts to section out pieces for a braid that will sweep back across her temple, simple and practical, but still Alderaanian to its core.

Luke:

Luke blinks, and he’s in a low tunnel, dug straight into dark earth. A small figure brushes past him, a figure with a head of curly black hair— Din. He follows child-Din as he steps cautiously down the tunnel, as soundless here as he is as an adult. Din stops in front of an archway with a skull mounted above it— the Mythosaur, the same as the pendant Grogu wears. 

Child-Din pauses, peering through the archway into the room beyond it. As Luke nears, the flickering blue-white light flares for a moment, bathing the boy’s face, and then a voice speaks. 

“Enter, ad.”

Din steps forward, and Luke follows him into— a forge, it seems. Luke can’t feel temperature here in this strange vision-space, but he imagines it must be warm, perhaps unbearably so, thanks to the large forge in the middle of the room, ringed in blue flame. A Mandalorian with a gold helmet and russet chestplate stands, hammer in their hands, and cocks a head at Din as he gets near. 

“Are you alright, Din’ika?”

Her voice is smooth and steady, and evidently comforting— the tense set of child-Din’s shoulders eases as she speaks. He looks at the floor, suddenly shy. “… Nightmare,” he says eventually. 

“Ah. Well, come, sit with me.” The Mandalorian sets her tools on her workbench and moves to sit against the wall, where a cushion— a bedroll, more likely— has been spread out. Evidently she is accustomed to sleeping in her forge. Luke wonders to himself how she does not suffocate in the heat, with the fur cape around her shoulders. 

Din huddles down on the mat beside the Mandalorian, hugging his knees to his chest. He does not lean into her, though by the look on his face, he wants to. 

“It is natural to have nightmares,” the Mandalorian says softly, her helmet tilted to look down at Din where he’s huddled next to her. “What matters is that we know how to distinguish them from reality.” 

Din nods, and when he speaks next, his voice is choked. “It was my village. My parents.” 

The Mandalorian sighs, and lays a gentle hand on the back of Din’s neck. He stiffens for a moment, and then tilts, shifting until his head is pillowed against her chestplate. It can’t be comfortable, but he doesn’t seem to mind. They sit in silence for several moments, and then a low singing starts to fill the room, a language Luke doesn’t know, but has heard before. Child-Din lets a few tears escape as he listens, but eventually the Mando’a lullaby pulls him under and back into sleep. The Mandalorian beside him never moves from her position.

#ace writes #fanfic #Star Wars fanfic #sorry if the formatting is weird tumblr’s post editor is NOT liking me right now #dinluke fanfic #Leia organa #luke skywaker #din djarin #the armorer #she’s his buir and you won’t convince me otherwise

[milkiane]

LOVER; druig

summary: in which druig decides to recognize his everlasting love for you.

warnings: soft hours with the loml, human!reader, we got another case of a lovesick!druig here // gif credits to @luke-skywalker

word count: 788

there was something irrevocably comforting about the very thought of going to bed next to you that always left druig on cloud nine — it brings him at ease and it lulls him to sleep knowing that there would be another day to spend with you.

the thought of waking up to you in his arms is his own bedtime story, as he falls asleep to the dreams of you, him, and what the future may bring.

although, this morning, druig wakes up with a jolt.

your spot is cold and unbothered, and for a moment, he panics. there is no sign of you being in the room, but only because you were in the next one.

as druig finally registers the soft music coming from the kitchen, he slowly gets up, waking up the tired muscles of his body with a yawn. he makes his way to your open kitchen, stopping by the pillar of the room to admire you.

the rising sunlight is slowly seeping in through the windows, granting you seraphic limelight as you dance around in his shirt.

you premeditatedly move around in the kitchen with a swing of your hips; an unconscious matter of routine. you hum along with the songs that were playing on the vintage radio as you grab the fruits you picked from your lover’s garden.

druig wonders, time and again, what he did to deserve you and your potent love. it keeps him up at night knowing that he’s going to fall asleep to your kisses and honeyed words, yet unknowing of the reason why.

but that never stops him from repaying your affection with passionate love and devotion of his own.

he often questions if saving humanity is what he’s really here for, because more often times than not, druig is convinced that loving you is his real destiny.

he smiles, he loves you so much it hurts. his love for you is the most dangerous yet delicate thing that he ever manifested.

it was just so… so intense. he has never known love like this. with you, he feels loved, he feels adored, he feels seen, he feels known.

and he does everything in his power to make sure you feel the same way. druig always makes sure that you feel loved. he will always make sure that he treats you like his world, like his last breath, like you’re every celestial star in the sky — like you’re the one who hung them.

he will never make you feel as though you were the opposite. he would rather join ikaris in flying into the sun than make you feel something that you were not.

by any means, your relationship is not perfect, but isn’t that the reason why love is so undeniably beautiful? without having its flaws, how are two people (or more) going to flourish into the best versions of themselves while simultaneously complementing each other?

pain is just a consequence of love, druig had learned. whilst your love is intense, the ferocity is just as intense when you fight. you two are one of the most passionate people known to mankind. you two were going to disagree one way or another, as a bearing fruit of intense passion.

the aftermath is the killer. it’s painful. it’s dragging. it’s soul-crushing. with every second ticking by, it would feel as if life doesn’t have any meaning left, but that’s only because you’re his world and he’s yours, and how were you supposed to function without your world?

the harrowing pain that one feels is the corollary of love. one wouldn’t know misery if it wasn’t for devotion.

which is why you always come back home in each other’s warm embrace and hushed apologies.

his love for you was much more powerful compared to any other unearthly power that a superhero may possess. in contrast to his athanasia and your humanness, he was the one who gets weak in the knees with just one look from you.

and yet, despite being an eternal gifted with powers, he was still unapologetically and irrevocably human.

druig slowly pushes himself off the pillar and makes his way to you. you already heard him before you feel him. he snakes his arm around you and plants soft kisses on your neck.

“good morning, my love.” you smile, turning around in his hold to plant a proper kiss on his lips.

“good morning, lover.”

and you will forever be endowed with that title. you will always be his lover, and he will always be yours.

druig always had a power over humanity, but looking at you now, dancing with you now… it was as if humanity had a power over him instead.

✦ author’s note: writing druig’s inner monologue made me cry, i kid you not. writing it, and having you read it so openly and gratuitously shows you a part of me and how much love i have and yet have no one to express it to. writing this fic made me so vulnerable and exposed because it contains all the thoughts and emotions that are threatening to burst out of the bottle. there’s always a part of me in every character i write for in my fanfics, but the one who has most of me in them is druig, because, with him, i was able to express so much when writing his character. writing has helped me so much; in between discovering my passions and finding myself, i am so eternally grateful for finding an escape with writing. i hope you feel the same way when reading my works because i do not only give a part of myself to the characters, but to all of you as well. <3

#druig #druig x reader #druig eternals #eternals druig #druig x you #druig x y/n #druig fluff #druig angst #druig smut #druig x reader fluff #druig imagine #druig oneshot #druig fic #druig fanfic #druig fanfiction #druig headcanon #druig blurb #druig x female reader #druig drabble #eternals x reader #druigedit #eternals imagine #eternals fic #eternals fanfiction #barry keoghan #barry keoghan x reader #tuserliane2