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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 11 months

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Studious IV (Aemond Targaryen x Reader) 18+

You continue reading Aemond's diary. As his true feelings for you become ever more clear, can you decipher your own feelings for him?

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (second person, no use of Y/N)

Warnings: Aemond in his smut writer era (semi-public sex, p in v sex, tiddy suckin', riding, fingering, oral sex f receiving, bad sex)

Author's Note: So sorry for the delay! But this baby is 11K words, so hopefully that makes up for it! Also, I tried for a long time to format this like the others, but tumblr wouldn't let me post it if I did, so the formatting is a little different here.

Read Part I Here - Read Part II Here - Read Part III Here

My Masterlist

Taglist will be done via reblogs (there are simply too many of you to fit here)

Studious IV

You were never setting foot in the library again.

Not after what you just read. Not when you were sure that the mere memory of it would have you bursting into flames the moment you crossed the threshold.

Good gods, only a few entries ago, Aemond could hardly bring himself to write the word ‘cunt,’ and now this? What in the Seven Hells were his advisors – Grand Maester Orwyle, Lord Jasper Wylde, and Prince Aegon – teaching him?

You weren’t sure whether the odd feeling in your stomach was due to how much you ate – an entire meat pie and five tea cakes, all washed down with a pot and a half of raspberry tea – or what you had just read.

Either way, it was not enough to stop you from glancing about your bedchamber to ensure no one was watching you and then rereading the entry from the beginning.

The 16th day in the 5th moon of the year.

I have just returned from the library. Grand Maester Orwyle suggested that I consult a book on anatomy. Since there was no business of court I was required to attend today, I asked one of the librarians to help me retrieve the title after I finished my training.

I also found a few books Aegon recommended, only after I dismissed the librarian – I did not want him to know that I took those. Or that I even knew what they were. Gossip abounds in the capital, and I do not wish to be the subject of more than I already am.

By the titles alone, I am surprised Mother allows them to remain in the Keep. I likely will not read most of them. Aegon has already traumatised me quite thoroughly. I see no reason to allow him to ruin reading for me, as well. Although one title, ‘A Caution for Young Girls,’ seems innocent enough.

But the books are not why I am writing now, when my usual routine is to write immediately before I retire to bed. I just… I need to commit this to paper before it leaves me entirely.

On my way out of the library, I saw her. My wife – if I die tomorrow or in a hundred years, I shall never tire of calling her that.

She has quickly found the more private areas of the library, it seems. I would never have seen her if I had not been considering going there to read myself.

It must mean something that she did not choose just any of the countless hidden places within the maze of the library, but my favourite – a secluded alcove along the western wall. An indicator of our compatibility, perhaps. Or even a sign from the gods?

Had the books I’d been carrying not been so… unsuitable, I would have asked to join her.

No, I wouldn’t have. That would require far more courage than I can summon when I see her.

I just stared at her, watching her face as she read. From where I stood, I could not see what she was reading. But I could see her, and that was enough.

She is so expressive! I saw her both smile and frown in quick succession, and once, her entire face scrunched in displeasure as if she had just taken a bite of lemon! Gods, how can even such an unpleasant expression be so beautiful?

Perhaps I should not have watched her at all, for the longer I stood there, the further my mind drifted. And then, I heard Aegon’s voice, as clearly as if he were standing beside me.

‘Don’t limit yourself to the bedchamber brother, or even the bed! A wall or a table serves just as well. And there is a certain thrill to knowing you could be discovered…’

Damn him. Why did I ever ask for his assistance? I would have been better off enlisting the help of an actual whore! At least then, the vulgarity would not come from the future King. Damn him to the deepest of the Seven Hells.

But that stupid advice echoed in my mind over and over. And against my will and better judgement, an image began to form. A dream – a waking dream.

Though my feet remained planted on the floor, I imagined setting aside my books and joining her in that alcove. She would look up and smile upon hearing my approach, perhaps even giggle at my attempt at stealth.

I would sit beside her and ask what she was reading. I might even ask her to read to me. But I would not let her read for long.

I would kiss her while she read. Not on her lips but all over her perfect face. Her cheeks, her forehead, on the tip of her nose. All just to distract her, to make her laugh. Only when she made so much noise that I feared discovery would I kiss her lips to quiet her and finally claim my prize.

The kiss would not be like in the Sept, or in her chambers that night. Instead, she would kiss me back and open herself to me. I would kiss her, and kiss her, and kiss her. Until we were both out of breath but still wanting more.

Seeing her like that, with her lips swollen and cheeks flushed… I would not be able to wait until we returned to our chambers. I would lift her onto that very table, books be damned.

Like our wedding night, we would not undress. We would be in too much of a hurry.

But even hurried, I would be gentle. I would take the time to prepare her, as Lord Wylde said I must do every time. Doing so makes the experience more pleasurable for the woman, he says. And Orwyle added that her enjoyment makes it more likely that the coupling will be fruitful.

Gods, I hardly care about that anymore. Of course, I want an heir, or several. But I want her more. I want her to feel as much pleasure as I do. To ‘peak,’ as Wylde and Orwyle put it. Aegon uses other words, but I find them too vulgar.

And in the library, making an heir would be the last thing on my mind. Even finding my own pleasure would be secondary. I would use my fingers to prepare her – perhaps get her to peak once before I even enter her?

Aegon says women can find release much more than men can. According to him, he once made a woman peak ten times in one night. I would be more amenable to believing him if he didn’t also claim he did so five times. But maybe he is right about ‘practising’ increasing stamina. Though he has had years of practice, and I have had only two days…

But in the dream world where I have the courage to approach her at all, and the gall to bed her in the library of all places (can you call it ‘bedding’ if it is not done in an actual bed?), I also have that stamina. And the skill to indeed make her peak with just my fingers.

I do not know what sounds she would make, as she was entirely silent on our wedding night, but I would want her to make them. I would want her to make such noise that I would have no choice but to kiss her to quiet her and keep her from drawing the attention of the rest of the library.

Even when I was buried within her, I would kiss her. With one arm wrapped around her hips to hold her steady as I fucked her so hard the table would shake, and the other hand tangled in her hair so I could kiss her just as hard.

I want to kiss her so badly. When I finally go to her again, that is what I will do first.

Once we had both finished – for I would ensure she peaked again with me inside her – I would kiss her more, softly, until our breathing steadied. Then, we would simply take our seats again, and this time, I would read to her.

By all the Seven, what has become of me? To not only have such thoughts but to revel in them as I do?

You didn’t bother reading the rest of the entry again before clutching the diary to your chest and staring at the bed canopy above you as a thousand questions burned through your mind and set your heart racing.

Had he been thinking about that the day he came to you in the library?

Was it what he intended to do, had you not reacted so poorly to his words?

Were you really wishing that he had?

You turned on your side, cradling his diary as you once did a small stuffed pony, and noticed for the first time that night had fallen – you had spent nearly the entire day reading. For a moment, you considered running to Aemond’s chambers. But when you looked back at the journal, there were still more than a dozen ribbons shut in its pages.

And if you went to him just after reading what you did…

Whatever was becoming of Aemond, no doubt thanks to the men he had asked for help in better bedding you, by reading his diary and the most private thoughts and fantasies contained within, it was becoming of you too. For when your eyes drifted closed, Aemond’s dream of the library became your dream as well.

The next several days of entries were almost identical.

Aemond woke at dawn after a night of dreams filled with you. They were not always of a carnal nature. Sometimes he dreamed simply of holding or kissing you. Once, he dreamed about flying with you atop his dragon. You didn’t know whether the prospect was thrilling or terrifying. Perhaps both.

Each day, he broke his fast, trained, then ate a small meal before joining court.

Before joining you.

When he wrote in the diary after dinner and several hours of studying and ‘practising’ (you still could not determine what that meant), he still remembered every little thing you did. You had never spoken at court – it was not your place to. But he had catalogued your every movement and reaction to the business of the realm. Every raise of your brows, every repressed smile, and every curious tilt of your head.

You thought you were quite proficient at maintaining a regal mask of indifference. Your mother had you practice it on the journey to King’s Landing while she commanded your brothers to shout at you the most outrageous things they could think of (much of which she promptly scolded them for when they were done).

But Aemond saw through the mask. Not only that, but he correctly interpreted every movement you made.

He knew that the twitch of your lip when Lord Bolton made a petition was a sign of your marked distaste for the man. He knew the scrunch of your brow upon the reading of a missive from a Pentosi diplomat was you noticing a contradiction from the previous message and realising the diplomat was lying. And he knew that you stiffened every time he looked at you because you were nervous about what he would say or do.

Aemond knew you. Even then.

And yet you had so dreadfully misunderstood him.

The shame of it was enough to make you set down the diary and call for a bath – a private bath, without any of your maids present even in the adjourning rooms. You gave an excuse that you were exhausted and simply wished to remain alone.

But really?

As part of his study of the anatomy book Orwyle recommended, Aemond had drawn a diagram of what lay between a woman’s legs. And annotated it based on the advice of Lord Wylde and Prince Aegon.

You were curious to see – with the aid of a hand mirror – just how accurate the diagram and annotations were.

You awoke the following morning feeling more refreshed than you had since you came to the palace, from both the welcome break in your courtly duties and the exploration you had conducted in the privacy of your bath. Though you were fairly sure you did not reach a ‘peak,’ as Aemond described it, you felt close to the height of something several times. But each time, you panicked at the intensity of the racing feelings within you and withdrew your hand. Still, those few minutes of pleasure were incredibly relaxing.

And as it was Aemond’s notes that allowed you to discover the feeling that your own clumsy attempts had failed to bring, the prospect that you would – eventually – once more join him in his bed became thrilling beyond reason.

In truth, the only thing that stopped you from rushing across the castle the very moment you emerged from the bath was the unfortunate fact that you were still bleeding, though it was light.

More than that, while your body was more than ready to forgive Aemond, your heart and mind were still hesitant. He had hurt you. He made you cry. Reading his diary helped you understand that it had never been intentional. However, you still needed to understand everything before making a final decision on whether to forgive him and if you could, as Aemond hoped in his note, ‘learn to like’ or even to love him.

So, after breaking your fast, you again settled into the couch and turned to the next green ribbon.

The 23rd day in the 5th moon of the year

Were Aegon not my brother and the heir, I would throw him from the top of the Rookery.

‘A Caution for Young Girls’ is no such thing. It is little more than a manual in promiscuity and sin!

But… damn him. It is quite educational.

Unlike the book Grand Maester Orwyle suggested, it is not focused on the science of anatomy or conception. Rather, it is entirely concerned with the pleasure of women. After all, it is the supposedly true story of a woman’s quest for pleasure.

A Wylde woman, if it is to be believed. I may have to ask Lord Jasper about it. Is this why he’s had such success with his own wives?

But that, and indeed the sinful nature of the book itself, is unimportant. What is important is that it may actually be the key to my learning how to pleasure my wife.

It spoke at length of various methods of using one’s fingers. Crooking the fingers while within seems to be crucial, as is locating a ‘sweet spot’ where her walls feel slightly different. That spot, as well as the ‘pearl’ which lays at the top of her sex, is the epicentre of her pleasure.

And, like the others said, preparation is required. This is where the use of the fingers comes into it – as well as various other methods. For example, the book mentions kissing quite often, and not only on the lips. Or the cheeks. Or even anywhere on the face.

I admit the idea, though it is new to me, is quite appealing. The book mentioned several places where women most like to be kissed. The jaw, the throat, behind the ear, the nape of the neck, the collarbone…

There was a spot of ink, as though Aemond’s pen had been resting on the page without moving for a long moment.

…the breasts, and lower.

I do not understand why. Perhaps it is because of Aegon’s incessant comments about the breasts of every woman in the Keep, save our mother and his wife – would that he would also exclude my wife! – but I find myself thinking about her breasts with startling frequency. I did not get to see them on our wedding night after I foolishly forgot to undress her.

There is a story in the book which… well, I find myself wanting to replicate. One which would provide me ample access to her breasts. But more than that, it carries an intimacy which I crave most of all.

When Lady Coryanne was serving as a handmaid to a warlock in Qarth, she often found herself called to help him ‘relax’ after a long day. On such occasions, she would mount him while he sat at his desk and ‘ride’ him while he buried his face in her breasts.

I… it was easy to imagine my wife and me in a similar, though more loving, position. Likely not at my desk, as I don’t actually use it often. But perhaps, here. On my chair by the hearth, where I read my books and write in this diary before bed.

She would come back – for she would be living here, with me, not across the Holdfast and so far away – after a long day. Maybe she would have been in the gardens, or with Mother, Helaena and the children, or in the library for hours. I would have been stuck away from her all day in meetings, court, or training.

Even apart from her for only a day, I would miss her terribly. As I do every hour I do not see her. And she would miss me too.

When she came in, she would press herself against the door as she locked it, then turn to me with a mischievous grin. I would know what she wanted, but I would not play along. Instead, I’d mutter a greeting and turn back to my book, pretending that my blood was not racing at just the sight of her. For I want her blood to be as heated as mine.

You read the last paragraph again, the realisation finally set in that Aemond was about to narrate another of his fantasies. Fortunately, after his previous entry about the library, you decided to be more cautious and had already dismissed your servants until your afternoon meal. You had suspected that there may be more in the diary that was thoroughly unsuitable for prying eyes.

And, thanks to his diligent notetaking, you knew precisely what to do when the feelings such unsuitable words provoked began to burn through you.

You undoubtedly did not want an audience for that…

I would let her tease me, pretending none of it fazed me. When she brushed her fingers lightly across my shoulders, I would not flinch. When she leaned over me further than she would really need to see what I was reading, but wanting me to see that peek of her breasts nearly spilling out from her dress, I would barely look. And when she pressed a kiss, long and slow, to my neck – gods, would I like that too? – I might even pretend it was an inconvenience.

It would vex her that I did not give her the attention she desperately wanted. Not enough to truly anger her, but only enough to make her pout. So that when she took the book from my hands and dropped it to the floor, then sat atop me in the chair with her thighs straddling mine… I would simply have no choice but to grab her little lip as she stuck it out and push it back into place before kissing her.

I would kiss her in every place the book instructs, taking my time to worship every bit of her. I want to drive her as mad as she does me just by her mere existence.

But I know she would not simply let me tease her. She would return each kiss I gave her and more. Atop me, she would roll her hips slowly, purposefully, as if we were engaged in a dance. I would be able to feel her, hot and wet and as eager as me, but each time I rose to meet her, she would pull away.

Gods, am I really wishing for her to deny me? Perhaps practising as Aegon instructed has conditioned me to crave such delays to my satisfaction.

Either way, I think I would break before she did. She is strong-willed, and with as many brothers as she has, I believe she can be quite patient. So, I would beg. I would apologise for trying to tease her and plead for her forgiveness. And for her to…

She would, I hope, without hesitation. She would rise only long enough for her to remove her smallclothes and for me to do away with my trousers. Then, we would both sit again, together, with me gently guiding her down to mount me – Seven Hells, that makes it sound like I’m a horse.

I’ll be whatever she wants.

Again, and as always, I would give her a moment to adjust and make sure she is comfortable. Orwyle’s book said that with well-endowed partners – which, according to the measurements in the book, I am – women may always need that moment.

But I would be glad to give it to her. For it would allow me to unlace her bodice, and like the warlock from the book, I could bury my face in my beloved’s breasts.

I find it hard to imagine what it would be like, how they would feel. Soft, I think. Warm, as she is. And perhaps, if I pressed close enough, I could hear her heart beating.

When I was fully settled within her, would I hear it beat faster? Or would it slow with contentment, knowing she was safe and loved – oh so dearly loved – within my arms. Perhaps it would be like the stories, and I would hear it skip a beat.

Either way, I would be more than content to just sit there, breathe her in, and let her move at her own pace. We would not need to be fast, as we would in the library. In my own rooms – our rooms – there would be no need for hurry. We could just stay there, entwined, or we could move together.

I think I would prefer it slowly. Not even seeking our releases, really. Just… enjoying each other. Enjoying the connection of our bodies, our minds, and our souls. Knowing that we are one, that the gods have made us one, and that nothing can tear us apart.

Although… I do think her legs would get tired after a while. That is something I should perhaps be worried about. Especially if she did want to move, and fast. To seek release.

If she did, I would help her. The book did not detail how, as Lady Coryanne was a servant at the time, but… I could figure it out. I could move my hips up to meet hers, or even lift her on my own? I think doing so with my hands on her hips would give me the most leverage. Or perhaps her rear?

I am very drawn to the idea of holding her close as we reach our peaks. Of feeling her breath on my skin, being close enough to hear each little noise she makes, and the sensation of her gripping me as tight as she can as she comes. Even the thought of her nails digging into me brings a certain thrill. And if I don’t reach my peak with her – which, I think, is very unlikely – we can always continue. Or move somewhere more comfortable if her legs do get tired.

At this point, I think I am more than ready to practice. Of course, this wasn’t my intention when I started writing, but… yes, I am most definitely ready. And anything else I wanted to write about seems inconsequential now.

You dropped the diary onto your heaving chest, the image Aemond’s words had painted still burning in your mind. Seven Hells, you could practically feel his strong arms wrapped around you, holding you to his chest as you moved together, his breath hot against your neck as he whispered words of praise between desperate kisses.

With a hazy smile, you snuggled further into the couch and beneath your blanket. As exhilarating as the descriptions of his desires were, what truly warmed your heart was the way he wrote about you, the two of you together.

The connection of your souls as one? It was exactly what you’d dreamed of when first told of your betrothal. Aemond was what you dreamed of.

Why did he have to stop writing? What in the name of the Seven was he practising that was more important than that?

Frustrated and with your pleasure now truly over, you closed the diary and turned on your side, resigned to simply stewing in your own thoughts for the few hours left until your maids returned.

After a light, solitary afternoon meal, you again dismissed your maids. By this point, they were more than a little suspicious about the titleless book you were reading. But, you insisted that you simply wanted to be alone, for your moon’s blood still plagued you. It wasn’t entirely a lie. You did still have some cramping and a slight headache.

In truth, it was because you knew what would happen in just a few entries – your second night together.

It surely wouldn’t be as thrilling as some of his other fantasies. You knew that firsthand. But after learning what Aemond felt for you, you were desperate to know his side of that night.

So desperate, in fact, that you barely skimmed the following two entries in your haste to reach it. Both primarily had to do with whatever smut he had read in A Caution for Young Girls. The first was a rather exhaustive list of all the ways he wanted to kiss you – and there were far more ways than you were previously aware of.

The second caused your most intense blushing yet, for it was near treasonous! After reading another story of Coryanne Wylde ‘riding’ a man, he fantasised about you riding him while he sat on the Iron Throne. It was an intriguing idea, but it seemed a little too hazardous to tempt you.

Finally, you reached what you had been waiting for.

The 26th day in the 5th moon of the year.

I had hoped not to make an entry today – for I had every intention of spending tonight in my wife’s chambers. But she is there, and tragically, I am here.

Tonight was almost worse than our wedding night.

When I saw her watching me in the training yard today, I thought… she was almost smiling – at me! She had no obligation to be there, and yet she was! She sought me out! She wanted to see me!

I had to bite back a cry of joy and relief. I immediately abandoned the rest of my training, nearly impaling the poor squire with my sword for how hard I threw it at him, so I could rush to the ramparts and greet her.

But when I got there, she was gone. I asked a few of the other lords and ladies that were there, but no one knew where she went. Even after speaking to her, however briefly, I still do not understand why she left.

You felt your cheeks flush with shame. Aemond hadn’t grimaced at you that day – quite the opposite. He had been so excited to see you there, and as usual, you had misinterpreted his reaction.

Or, based on how frequently these misunderstandings occurred, perhaps his expressions were merely indecipherable to normal people. Or, more likely, maybe just to you.

You set his diary down, careful to use one of your discarded ribbons to mark your place, and picked up your own. By this point, you had filled several pages with your reactions to Aemond’s writing – some of it sincere, some bordering on humour.

Yet you had no words to express how sorry you were that you had so thoroughly misjudged him. So you wrote nothing and just kept reading.

When I went to her chambers to check on her, I encountered one of her maids, who told me she had retired early with a headache and would not be joining the family for dinner.

Perhaps I should have gone into her chambers then and asked what was wrong. I knew – or at least suspected – that the headache was a lie. An excuse to allow her privacy. I often do the same, citing my scar. Which, as I told her, is not always a lie.

But if I had gone to her, as I wished. I would not have known what to say. Ask her why she ran from the training yard without speaking to me? Or why she wanted to avoid me and the family? Tell her I’m sorry for the disappointment of our wedding night? Ask Beg for a second chance?

I could not do it. I was tired from training and admittedly still somewhat discombobulated from realising she had been watching me. Though I did make it to her door, I merely touched the handle for a moment before retiring to my own chambers.

Now, after yet another disastrous visit… I should have gone to her earlier. I should have trusted my instincts (as Aegon often encourages me to do) instead of allowing my mind to think itself into an inescapable hole.

As I bathed and redressed, and even while attending court and dinner, I could not stop thinking about her. Agonising over what I may have done to make her flee from me?

I never even considered that she may actually have a headache until I was again at her door after dinner. The fear that I was disturbing her, perhaps making her pain worse, was nearly enough to make me turn and flee.

But then, her voice came, soft and light and so enticing. Of course, I somehow managed to answer idiotically when she asked who it was. Though she lessened the sting of embarrassment with a small joke. She is so achingly clever!

I asked her how she was, and her answer made it evident that the headache was a ruse. I am trying not to be too proud that my deduction was correct. She is not used to lying, nor is she good at it. And it is yet another thing I admire about her.

For hours, I planned what I would say to her. It was eloquent and thoughtful – practically poetry.

The tail of the last ‘y’ extended nearly an inch, and you imagined Aemond just staring at the page, consumed by his thoughts for a moment.

But her room looked different tonight. She finally unpacked.

There is a large tapestry above her hearth depicting her home keep, the field below filled with vibrant pink flowers with bright yellow centres. The same flowers appear nearly everywhere. On framed examples of embroidery, on her curtains, pillows, and even the blanket strewn over the back of her couch.

I must find out what they are, for they are clearly very important to her.

You looked up from the diary, glancing about your room. Indeed, you had not realised how many dog roses decorated your possessions. It was no wonder he guessed they were your favourite.

‘I was quite impressed when you brought me my favourite flower,’ you wrote in your diary. ‘I thought you had somehow read my thoughts. I suppose I made it easy for you.’

She also has a large bookcase in her sitting room, which was specifically requested when her father sent word accepting the betrothal. Since the last time I was in her chambers, she has begun to fill the shelves with books and trinkets. I spotted a small silver bell, a wooden box carved with various birds, and a little glass flower. It was not the same flower that is so prevalent elsewhere in her chambers (this one was a pale purple rather than pink), but still quite pretty.

While pondering that flower, I returned to the couch to compare it to the pink flower on her blanket and saw what she had been reading – “The Last Dragonlords,” my first, and still favourite, history of my house. It is not a particularly rigorous academic work, but I prefer it for the sense of wonder it has for the story of my ancestors.

If, at that point, I remembered any of what I wanted to say to her, the sight of that book, and the knowledge that she was somehow reading my favourite… I lost all words. I fear I fell silent for an uncomfortably long time, for she spoke next.

She wanted to know the reason for my visit. I asked her directly about the ruse of her headache. She seemed nervous, so I told her I do the same and that I often experience lingering pain. I was tempted to remove my patch and show her, but… she was already quite nervous. I did not want to make her more so, or frighten her so thoroughly that she will never warm to me.

What lay beneath his eyepatch that would frighten you so? You had heard many rumours. That his lost eye was nothing more than a pit of darkness. That he had replaced it with a jewel. That an ever-burning fire, fueled by his hatred and rage, burned within.

Despite the stories, you felt a twinge of shame and hurt that, despite his love for you, he did not trust you with seeing him truly bare. He thought you could be frightened away.

Somehow, that shame far overshadowed any curiosity or fear about what lay beneath the brown leather of his eyepatch.

I could already tell it wasn’t going to go how I wanted – she would not meet my eye. So, I offered to leave. I would not impose myself on her when she did not want me to. That is not how I want to start this. Or, start it again.

But she did want me to go! At least, that is what I thought she meant. I am not so sure anymore. She said something about my right to be there as her husband. At the time, I thought it was her shy way of asking me to stay. Now… I think she may have just been repeating something her mother or a Septa taught her.

There was another small patch of angry scribbles.

I’m so stupid! And hardly better than Aegon. No – she may not have been particularly enthusiastic, but I am sure if she genuinely did not want me there, she would have said so. And I would have obeyed. After all, she was quick to ask me to stop some of the other things I tried to do.

She did not like the kissing.

When I first mentioned that I would like to lie with her – which I foolishly reasoned was out of my desire for an heir instead of my desire for her – she simply laid on the bed like on our wedding night. But that is not what I want. I do not want this to simply be a union of duty! At least, not anymore. And I so wanted to kiss her.

So, I beckoned her to me, and she obeyed. My hopes that this would be different were still relatively high. I got closer, touched her face, and asked if I could kiss her.

And she asked, ‘Why?’

I swear that one little word hurt more than any pain I’ve felt in the training yard. Almost more than… well, not quite more than that. But close.

I could not think of any reason other than that she is my wife, and I love her and want more than anything to kiss her. I only told her the former and the latter, for I think if I told her I loved her, she would have been more afraid than if she had seen me without my patch. And the gods must be good, for she said yes.

Then I kissed her. I held her close, and I kissed her.

It was the most wonderful thing! She was soft and warm. And when I laced my hand through her hair, she made the most delightful sound! I could have just kissed her forever.

But then it was over. She shouted and pushed me away. It was… it was just after I tried to use my tongue. I don’t think she liked it.

She asked me why I ‘needed’ to kiss her. She must have disliked it very much.

I had no other explanation than what I had already offered. At least, none that I could tell her without sending her running from me forever. So I stopped and told her I did not need it – the first lie I’ve ever told her.

When she moved back to the bed, I could not help myself. I could not let us be in a marriage where we lie together out of nothing more than duty, fully clothed and anxious to get it over with. It was foolish, and I probably scared her with the request, but I asked her to remove her nightgown. She had already taken off her robe – a massive thing in her house colours that practically drowns her.

You allowed a brief kernel of anger to spark within you, enough for you to pick up your pen and write him another little message in your diary.

‘That robe is dear to me, thank you very much. What is it that makes you hate it so?’

There is nothing more beautiful in the world than her. She puts even the Maiden to shame. I would have been happy to stare at her, to take in that beauty until I had my fill – if I would ever get my fill.

She got on the bed and positioned herself exactly how she was on our wedding night. Not quite how I pictured it, but considering her hesitancy, I did not want to push her.

It took all my control to stop myself from kissing her again when I undressed and joined her. But I did. I also resisted doing anything more than just looking at her breasts.

I sat between her legs and stared at her. While I was more than ready to begin, she was not. At all. Of course, I knew I would have to prepare her, but I hoped she would have had at least some desire for me already.

I started with gentle touches, drawing circles on her thighs. She shivered a bit when I began, but she didn’t ask me to stop. From where I was sitting, I could tell she enjoyed it, even if she didn’t understand it. She did ask me to explain, and my answer was probably lacking – how does one explain why he was so inadequate? – but she gave a small nod when I promised that tonight would be better.

Then I finally touched her where I really wanted to and was delighted to find her… well, not as wet as I’d hoped, but it was an improvement upon our wedding night! I ran my fingers over her entrance, hoping to coax more wetness from her before I truly began. And when I looked at her again to ensure I wasn’t hurting her, she smiled at me!

Encouraged, I kept my fingers at her entrance, not venturing inside yet, but continuing my preparations there while I began to seek her pearl. As the books said, I only had to draw a straight line upward from her entrance to find it.

And, oh, when I found it! Her eyes snapped shut, her back arched off the bed, and the most glorious whine escaped her! It was everything I had imagined and more. Gods, I think I could have peaked just from watching her as I circled her pearl again and again, faster and faster.

But then, she asked me to stop – begged me to.

I thought I must have done something wrong, but she shook her head when I asked if it hurt. And when I asked if it felt good, she would not answer. She merely requested that I get on with what I needed to do and leave, for she was tired. This wound cut even deeper than before with the kissing.

I wanted to prepare her more – I was going to use my mouth on her. To show her how dearly I wish to please her, how much I want to worship and love her, if only she’d let me.

In anticipation of that act, I have been consulting Coryanne Wylde’s various accounts and expert critiques of the act in order to form the perfect strategy.

To begin, I would undress her, as I planned to do on our wedding night, laying gentle, nearly chaste kisses on each new bit of skin I revealed. Once she was bare, I would kiss her. Deeply. To give her a taste of what is to come. Then, I would kiss my way down. Her jaw, her throat, her collarbone, her breasts, and the plane of her stomach.

Once I made it past her navel, I would take her leg in my hand and begin a new trail of kisses upwards. The book says to start at the ankle, but I am too impatient for that – I will begin at the knee instead.

Just when she thought I was finally about to give her what she craved more than anything, I would once again change course to kiss her lips one final time. Then, I would descend.

I would start slowly, experimenting with different tactics to determine what drives her deliciously mad. Once I knew, I would feast. I would devour her like her pleasure was the air I needed to breathe. Like her cries of pleasure were beautiful music, and I would die if it ever stopped.

I would bring her to peak once with my mouth on her entrance. Again on her pearl. Then again and again in whichever way made her scream the loudest.

Only when she was so drunk with pleasure that she could no longer rise to meet my mouth or grasp at my hair would I relent. I would make my way back up to her mouth and soothe her with gentle kisses until she had regained herself and was begging for me to finally fuck her.

But I didn’t get to do any of that.

She asked me to stop, so I did. I pumped myself a little to ensure the disappointment hadn’t rendered me incapable of performing my duty and entered her.

The preparation did help. Entering her was easier, and she did not wince as much as the first time. And she felt even more heavenly somehow. The feeling was so intense that I had to take a moment to remind myself that she only wanted me to finish quickly so she would not have to endure me any longer.

So, I fucked her. I did not make love to her, as is my true desire. I just fucked her, like she was just any woman and not the love of my life.

And then, a miracle! I thrust into her, something about the angle allowing me in quite deep, and she reacted. She gasped, breathless, and her hips snapped up to meet mine. I froze in surprise and elation. I found her ‘sweet spot!’

But when I smiled at her, she turned away and refused to look at me again.

I just kept going. I did not try to hit that spot again, so as to not upset her further. I finished as quickly as I could and left the bed.

It was stupid of me, but I turned back to her after dressing. Everything had gone so horribly, but I still love her. I still need her. So I could not just leave her like that.

I asked if I could kiss her again. She let me. I was quick, as promised.

Then I came back here, once again alone and no closer to earning her love than I was before.

I must meet with my advisors again tomorrow. Perhaps they can help me understand why I keep fucking this up so badly when all I want is for her to let me love her the way I want to and for her to love me in return.

Your heart ached so severely that you thought there might be bruises when you looked down at your chest. But there was just skin – skin that Aemond would have happily kissed, had you let him.

As horrible and confusing as that night had been for you, it had been so tenfold for Aemond. He had wanted a grand, romantic evening, and you had greeted him with only coldness and suspicion.

He called you ‘the love of his life.’ You ran your finger over those words so many times that they became smudged, then went to write something in your diary but halted with your pen hovering over the paper.

What could you write to match what he’d said about you? Even if you could, would it really be true? How many times could you say, ‘I’m sorry?’

Well, at least one more time. ‘I’m so sorry, Aemond,’ you wrote, ‘I didn’t know, and I was still scared. Not of you, but of what I thought my life was to be. If you had only told me… I do not blame you, I swear. I just wish the both of us had been more honest with each other.’

You were far too exhausted to continue. It was not yet midafternoon, and you had already been from the near-heights of carnal pleasure to the depths of your despair that the unfortunate state of your marriage was, in actuality, mostly your fault.

So, after setting Aemond’s diary aside, you picked up your embroidery basket and began to work while your mind wandered.

It was only when your maids arrived to bring you dinner that you realised that, somehow, the dog roses you intended to make had become a sprawling wisteria vine.

You dreamed of the castle garden in late spring when all the flowers were in bloom. As you walked down the garden path, you saw every colour imaginable amongst the vibrant greens. But there was only one flower you really wanted to see – and the man you knew would be waiting for you beneath them.

Just as the first purple tendrils came into view, the dream faded, and you woke to see the first hints of dawn still beneath the horizon.

Drawing your blankets over your head, you squeezed your eyes shut and stubbornly tried to fall back asleep and return to your dream – to no avail. You were well and truly awake. And it would be some time before your maids came to dress you for the day.

So, dragging the blanket from your bed with you, you trudged back into your solar and settled into the couch before picking up Aemond’s diary again.

The 27th day in the 5th moon of the year

I met with Lord Wylde, Grand Maester Orwyle, and Aegon this morning. They had advice, but it was not as… straightforward as I had hoped. There is no simple trick to get her to love me. Nothing I can study from a book and then implement with assured success.

I have to woo her. I have to be witty and pleasant and charming and… romantic.

I do not think this is going to work.

Especially not after my first attempt was so disastrous.

Lord Wylde asked that I tell him about her, so I did. When he learned she enjoys reading as much as I do, he suggested I try to find common ground there. So, I went to try and find her in the library.

She was exactly where she was the last time I saw her there, still reading “The Last Dragonlords.” I watched her for a moment, savouring the look of contentment on her face as she read, as well as a few quick reactions to the book. How I love it when her nose scrunches in displeasure!

‘That is quite the odd thing to fixate on,’ you wrote in your diary. It seemed a decent night’s sleep had helped recover some of your humour. ‘What is it, in particular, that you like about my scrunched nose?’

She did smile at me when I approached, but I think she thought I was a Maester, for her smile faltered when I greeted her. And she was so shy. Usually, when I struggle to find the right words, she breaks the silence. Today, she did not.

At least it gave me time to remember why I came to the library. She was still reading “The Last Dragonlords,” so I told her it was my favourite and asked if I could join her. I think she was somewhat embarrassed about reading a children’s book, but I assured her it was no matter and that I would nonetheless enjoy reading it with her, and she allowed me to sit with her.

My plan was to sit with her, discuss the histories, and perhaps, in time, hold her hand as a first step toward genuine affection. But the plan quickly went awry.

It all happened so fast that I don’t even remember exactly what I said. But somehow, I insinuated that she was not intelligent enough to understand the book. The book meant for children – young children.

She was very upset with me. Rightfully so! Still upset enough that she stormed out of the library after making several cutting remarks that proved that she is, in fact, quite intelligent.

After several minutes and a brief reprimand from one of the Maesters, I finally gathered myself enough to realise that she had left the book there. As well as several pages of notes.

Of course, the noble thing would have been to not look and ask a servant to return them to her. But in that moment, I was desperate, not noble. So, I looked.

Her notes were beautifully organised and remarkably thorough – the work of a true scholar! She even crafted a beautiful family tree all the way through Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters. Had I not fumbled our initial interaction so entirely, we would have had a wonderful discussion.

You had feared him finding the notes, but you had never considered that he would be impressed rather than arrogantly amused. It made sense now that you knew his true nature. Perhaps, once whatever was between you was resolved, you could have that discussion.

In all honesty, there were a few questions you had that you hoped he would be able to answer. Not least of which being why in more than a thousand years, Targaryens had only come up with a dozen names that they repeated over and over again. You wrote as much in your diary.

It was useless for me to sulk in the library, agonising over what I should have said, so I gathered the book and her notes and left the library.

An apology was more than necessary, so I went to Aegon’s rooms. After all, there is perhaps no one with more experience apologising to women. Even if his apologies are self-serving.

When I arrived, I found Mother had already found Aegon first, and was well into another tirade about his behaviour. Normally, I would be happy to watch Mother yelling at him, but I did not feel I had time to. And Aegon was glad that I granted him a reprieve.

Admittedly, I had not wanted to admit to Mother that my wife and I were… not as close as I wanted. But, as she always is, she was eminently understanding, and far more helpful than Aegon was. His only suggestion was to bring her something nice – jewels, silks, or the like.

On the other hand, Mother gave me sage advice on what to say when I go to her. As my words have been my primary point of failure, I was very grateful for this. She did also say that a gift would not be amiss. An ‘offering of peace,’ she called it. But she advised something personal, not luxurious. If the gift is too valuable, she says, it will seem as if I am trying to buy her forgiveness rather than earn it.

I knew immediately what I should get her. I thanked Mother (and Aegon) and left at once for the gardens.

I found them – the flowers she loves so dearly. Dog roses, they are called. Unfortunately, they do not grow well in our climate, but the Maester’s managed to coax a few to bloom with their various potions and other horticultural creations.

They are almost as beautiful as her.

The Maester I spoke to said that it would be best if I had them cut just before I brought them to her, to preserve their beauty. So that is what I will do.

I will not practice tonight. At least… not that kind of practice. Instead, I will rehearse my apology. I cannot fail tomorrow.

You winced slightly, knowing that the next day would not go as Aemond planned and feeling as though it was your fault. But there was no changing that now. And you had already apologised – often and profusely.

So, you wrote only a simple note: ‘I don’t recall seeing dog roses on our tour of the gardens. Did you pluck them all?’

Looking back at his diary, you took a deep, steadying breath. Only two ribbons left.

The 28th day in the 5th moon of the year

I am the stupidest, most idiotic man in all the seven fucking kingdoms.

All I was trying to do was apologise to her for my unkind – though unintentionally so! – words in the library, but somehow it ended with her crying and me fleeing from her chambers yet again.

You cringed at the memory, almost not wanting to read on.

Aegon gladly offered his explanation, even after I told him I did not want it. He insists that I have so thoroughly repulsed her that she cannot help but burst into tears at the sight of me.

Mother thinks that she is just missing her family and her home, as she said. That she is overwhelmed by being alone in a strange place, and the familiar sight of the flowers – dog roses, as I have learned – brought those feelings to bursting.

Perhaps Mother is right. But her parents left a fortnight ago, and she has shown no other signs of homesickness. And she is not alone! She has the other ladies of the court to talk to, and Helaena and Mother adore her. And me.

If she came to me, I would do anything to cheer her. Not that she would seek comfort from me, no matter how dearly I wish she would. She certainly won’t after today.

After the disaster in the library yesterday and the scolding I received from Grand Maester Orwyle after my training this morning, I knew beyond a doubt that I needed to apologise. I… the shame I feel for having played any part in the state Orwyle described her in is unbearable.

So, I went to the gardens and had a Maester cut the flowers for me and arrange them in a simple bouquet.

She was on her couch when I arrived in her rooms – still in her nightgown and that robe. And again, she did not look at me. She had eyes only for the flowers. I thought then that they had been the right choice.

I apologised, but she did not react. She still just stared at the bouquet. So, I went ahead with the rest of my apology.

Then she touched my hand. It startled me, and I pulled away from her on instinct, dropping the bouquet in her lap. She looked at them like I had dropped a helpless kitten rather than flowers!

And she started crying. Softly, the tears welling in her eyes for a long moment before spilling over. I do not understand what I did to upset her. I said only what I had planned last night. It was so hard to resist brushing the tears away, but she seemed nearly volatile, and I did not want to make things worse.

‘I miss home,’ she said, finally.

It did sting that she does not consider King’s Landing and her life with me her home – it still does. But she is hundreds of miles away from the family of her birth, from the people who have undoubtedly treated her better than I have. I cannot blame her.

I apologised again for upsetting her and left.

At dinner, I had planned to ask Mother and Grandsire if we could find a way to send her home, at least for a little while. So she could be happy. Perhaps I could even go with her. I might have an easier time talking to her without the pressures of my family and the capital upon me.

You smiled at the thought of Aemond at your home keep. Of him in all his black leather among the fields of dog roses. Talking with your father in the library. Him training with your brothers – you were confident he could defeat any one of them alone, but knowing your brothers, they would absolutely gang up on him.

‘One day,’ you wrote, ‘I would love to show you my home.’

I was waiting for the opportunity to ask when she arrived! After this afternoon, I did not think she would come to dinner, but she did! I could have wept for my relief.

And when I offered my hand to her, she took it. Not only that, but she squeezed it – hard. I think believe it was her way of accepting my apology.

She did not speak during dinner, nor did anyone ask her too many questions. Aegon was his typically infuriating self, silently encouraging me to do something with her. What he expects me to do when in front of the entire family, I do not know.

After the meal, I offered to escort her back to her chambers, which she accepted. And once we were alone, she thanked me for the flowers!

It was going unusually well. That is, until I decided to open my mouth. I only meant to compliment her, as she did look quite beautiful, but… I just kept talking. And then I had suddenly insulted her gown from yesterday and her robe.

She closed herself off from me then, shoving away my arm. Why could I not just shut up? I know my words are the source of so many of our misunderstandings, yet I keep talking! At this point, I am strongly considering a vow of silence.

‘Please don’t take a vow of silence!’ you wrote, scrambling for your diary as if it mattered how quickly you got the words down. ‘Your voice is far too lovely for me to never hear it again.’

Tomorrow, I am going to try a suggestion from Lord Wylde. Show her that I am not a failure in everything I do. I pray it works.

You turned the page, expecting to find the entry for the next day, but there was none. There had been a page between the entries for the 28th and the 30th, but it had been sloppily torn out. All that remained was the beginnings of the date in the upper corner.

It was entirely against what you knew of Aemond. The man who had dutifully started his journal on the first day of the year and began each entry on a new page would not do something like this.

What had upset him so? Had you said something to him?

No, of course not. The only time you had seen him that day was in the training yard, and you hadn’t spoken to each other, not after… not after he stormed off. Had he actually been hurt in his fight with the Kingsguard? Or was he just embarrassed that you had witnessed him fall?

Gods, how you wished you had gone to him that night. But perhaps you could make up for it now.

‘After you were absent for dinner,’ you wrote to him in your diary, ‘I almost came to your rooms. I was worried for you. Though I confess, that was the only reason I found myself walking toward you… I missed you, at dinner. I missed you helping me into my chair. I missed your smile. I missed the way you’d hold the plates for me. Most of all, I missed your voice, and your presence next to me.’

You sniffled slightly, staring at a lamp on your wall to dry the tears that were forming before finishing the entry, ‘I’ve missed you these past days, as well. But I’m almost done. I’ll see you soon.’

The 30th day in the 5th moon of the year

I have made my gravest sin yet. And my most foolish.

We had the perfect morning together in the gardens. Silent, mostly, but perfect. She smiled at me! She allowed me to lead her through the gardens on my arm. It was… precisely what I had hoped for.

Until I once again acted like an absolute fucking fool.

Before I had to leave for court, I asked if I could come to her rooms that night. And for one perfect moment, I really believed she was going to say yes.

But then she mentioned her moon’s blood, and I just… panicked. I am not entirely an idiot (though I become less sure of that declaration with each passing moment), I know what that means.

It means that I’ve failed her. In even more ways than I knew.

I have made her miserable. I have made her cry. I have failed in every duty of a good husband, including the most basic of tasks – I have not given her a child.

I cannot go on like this – trapped in an endless cycle of misery where I can do nothing but hurt the both of us. I must do something to free us from this.

It doesn’t matter if she doesn’t love or even like me. I just want her to be happy. If that means that I never get to see her or love her again, I will make myself accept that.

First, she needs to know why I’ve acted this way. To know my true feelings so she can decide what she wants me to do. Gods, if she wanted me to go to Essos and never return, I would.

A blot of ink covered half the page, as though he had simply set his pen down while he thought.

I know what to do. I just pray she understands.

“I understand,” you said aloud, as though Aemond were before you. But, of course, he wasn’t. He was halfway across the castle, a distance that suddenly felt like the Narrow Sea itself. Throwing down your blanket, you shouted for your maids to dress you at once, your morning meal be damned. The moment finished tying off the last lace of your gown, you ran.

You had only been shown where Aemond’s chambers were once – on your first tour of the Holdfast. Then, you did not know whether to be disappointed or thankful that they were far from yours. Now, as your nervousness flooded through every part of your body, you hated the distance more than anything.

Each step was an effort, as with every one, your legs felt heavier and heavier, as if they were made of iron. Your blood felt as though it was rushing dangerously fast, carrying with it a marked chill. Despite feeling frozen within, sweat still somehow beaded at your brow. Yet you could not wipe it away, for your hands were all but stitched to the two diaries you carried.

Was this a terrible idea? Would Aemond laugh at you for all your silly little notes? Would he be angry with you for taking days to fulfil his request? You came to a halt in the middle of the corridor, tears prickling in your eyes as you considered so many horrible possibilities.

No, you thought, the word echoed by the impact of your foot on stone as you took a heavy, sure step forward.

The Aemond you thought you knew would do those things. But that Aemond wasn’t real – and never was. He had only ever lived in your terrified imagination.

The real Aemond was the one who had been so awestruck upon first seeing you that he could not say anything other than your name. Who had fallen for you so quickly and with such intensity that he forgot how to act like a proper person and instead stumbled over his words and actions like a drunk man through a crowded alley. Who had been so desperate for you to return his affections that he swallowed his pride to seek help. And who had finally given you his diary when he could think of no other way to show you how he really felt and who he truly was.

It was the thought of finally meeting that Aemond that made you put one foot in front of the other, faster and faster, until you were sprinting down the halls, only stopping when you came to the door you had seen only once before – his door.

You did not understand how you had found it again after only seeing it only once before. Nor did you remember knocking on the smooth, dark wood.

But then you heard footsteps approaching.

Hastily, you transferred the diaries to one hand and wiped the sweat from your brow with the sleeve of the other. You wanted to straighten your hair, for it had surely come loose from its braid after running so fast. But there was no time for that.

There was the dull, metallic sound of the door being unlatched, and then there he was.

Aemond stood before you, breathing heavily himself as though he, too, had been running. His silver hair was mussed, and there were smudges of purple beneath his widened eyes – his eyes.

He was not wearing his eyepatch.

Your mouth fell open at the sight. At least one of the rumours had been true. Beneath the raised, rough skin of his scar, in place of his lost eye, was a brilliant blue sapphire. It suited him perfectly and was perhaps the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

He looked at you for a moment, the corners of his mouth lifting in a hesitant smile before realising what had caught your attention so thoroughly.

“Oh gods,” he whispered, covering the sapphire with his hands and turning away. He took a few steps into the room before speaking again. “I did not mean for you to see this. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. Please…”

You said nothing. Silently, you moved into the room and shut the door. Aemond stared at you, his good eye watering as you approached him.

“I’m so sorry,” he said again. “You should not have had to – ” He startled when you brought your free hand up to his wrist and started trying to tug his hand away from his face. “What are you…?”

When your only response was to continue tugging, he relented, allowing you to lower his hand. He swallowed thickly, fixing his good eye on the wall behind you instead of at you. Seeing his shyness, and now knowing it for what it was, almost made you smile.

But your own shyness took hold of you as you guided his hand down and wrapped it around the spines of the twin journals you held. When you looked back up at Aemond, he was staring at them and the green ribbon that now marked a page within your diary.

“I don’t understand,” he breathed, tightening his hold on the books.

With a slight smirk, you gazed up at him and dropped your hand from the diaries. “It’s your turn.”

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jaspvids · 2 months

Text

The Diagnosis Of David

Disclaimer: I am by no means a mental health professional. This is just a meta-analysis.

What do we think of when we think of David?

His values of kindness. Optimism. Hope. Conviction. Passion. His drive to do his best every single day. The way he always makes an effort to reach out to others.

But also:

Attachment issues. People pleaser. Rose-colored glasses wearer. And at times, though the fandom doesn’t want to acknowledge it — Selfish. Unstable. Rude. Hypocritical. Kind of a dick.

See this video I made;

He’s complex, so let’s try to unpack him, and figure out what he’s got going on under that floof.

On David’s Childhood

David has been through a number of traumatic events in his childhood, most notably:

Witnessing Jasper fall to his near-death.

Finding Jasper, and being almost mauled by bears during the escape.

Clown school was apparently very bad, given the flashback-like reaction he had when it was mentioned. I’m unsure of his age when this occurred, however.

The fight with Jasper at the cave before they parted ways.

Losing Jasper. He says Cameron told him he was picked up by his parents, but I’m not convinced it’s not just his mind trying to erase painful memories.

As far as what we don’t necessarily see in the show, but can infer, David’s father was either not present or not great. He dreamt Cameron was his real father, as seen below.

And we all know Cameron is an awful father figure to begin with.

Yet, that’s better to David, apparently, than whatever he had at home. Which implies it was likely a pretty bad situation.

This can also be backed up by his attachment to the camp — growing up (and even now) it seems to be more of a home to him than his actual home.

That’s a home that hasn’t ever been mentioned, by the way. Contrary to Gwen, we know absolutely nothing about his family. He hasn’t talked about them once, if I recall correctly.

David is often open with emotions, if not wearing his heart on his sleeve. So why would he never mention his family and home?

We know why.

Even as an adult, he has retained this attachment to Cameron (who has in turn, continued to use this attachment to his benefit). He gets very excited about helping Cameron change in “keep the change” — because he needs to believe people who hurt him can get better. Otherwise, it’s too painful to bear.

The Loss Of Jasper

Part of his childhood, but significant enough to warrant its own section.

Jasper and David had a very interesting relationship. We’ve seen in the past that David was pessimistic, foulmouthed, and hot-tempered, directly compared to an optimistic, peppy, popular Jasper.

But then Jasper saw Cameron’s real self, and David received a modicum of praise for what was likely the first time based on his reaction. And so, they basically did somewhat of a switcheroo.

(David takes on many traits of Jasper after this experience, showing that he does admire him at the end of the day. I believe these traits are the foundation of David’s many masks.)

Despite the whole shebang, further episodes show us that they form a strong bond (or maintain one, we don’t know what happened before the first Jasper and David episode.)

What makes this friendship especially crucial in David’s development is that I believe Jasper was the first person to truly stand up for David.

David is, as we have seen, easily manipulated. Jasper picks up on this, and knowing Cameron’s just trying to use his best friend, tries to take Cameron down.

Jasper essentially died trying to protect David.

If Jasper hadn’t died, I don’t think David would have ended up as gullible and dependent as he is. If he had the more rational and realistic Jasper by his side during the rest of his developmental years, I believe things would have ended up much, much differently.

With Jasper’s death, there seems to be nobody else at camp who knows of Cameron’s crimes, or possibly, doesn’t want to speak out about them. Nobody to stand up for him. Nobody to redirect him.

So there’s nobody to stop the unhealthy-attachment-train from picking up speed.

Cameron And David’s Relationship

Cameron is manipulative and abusive towards David. This even becomes physical:

Despite this, David continues to idolize him as is seen in many cases of abuse. He works his ass off maintaining Cameron’s camp. Cameron’s approval makes or breaks him, because this is the man he sees as a father, unfortunately.

In addition, David is unable to let go of the hope that Cameron can change, because he’s convinced himself that deep down Cameron is still “good”, based on his skewed perception of him. And we all know how that ended.

But as Diane from Bojack Horseman once said —

And that is David’s problem — he wants so much for there to be a “deep down”, that there will be a day where Cameron showers him with praise and throws signed adoption forms at him, etcetera.

He judges Cameron not on who he actually is, but who he wants him to be. And so, the unhealthy attachment remains.

(Which is, of course, incredibly destructive to his mental health.)

Other Things We Know About His Mental Health, From Canon

We know he takes meds.

We know he has (sometimes dissociative) panic attacks.

We know he has been seen to suddenly snap, even to the point of violence.

My Final Conclusion: C-PTSD

(As the trauma has been not just one event, but many over the course of his life, and among other reasons, I believe CPTSD fits better than PTSD.)

David meets much of the criteria, most notably:

Lack of emotional regulation

Dissociation

Flashbacks

Anxiety

Guilt and shame

Distorted perception of abuser

Relationship difficulties

Okay this was long I’m tired good night.

#camp camp #camp camp david #cc david

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loveswrites · 10 months

Note

Poly cullen angst to fluff? Pls and thank you🤭

Rainy Road Poly Cullens x Reader

Time it took me: 4 hours ( btw loves I acc finished it in the same day just now)

Word count: 2143

To anon: I'm sure I met your angst but I don't think I met much else *wink* There will be a part two if you guys want I'm sure you will <3

Love <3

“Stop.” Edward said, watching you plainly.

Currently you were practically skipping on and off the border line of the werewolves territory and the Cullens territory. Edwards' tone kinda upset you. You were only trying to lighten the mood because ever since you got into the car his energy was just off. Seth had called you saying he wanted to hang out so you asked Edward to drive you because bella being the blood daughter got the car and you got a maybe next year. Downsides of being adopted.

You were standing at the border because the rest of your mates wanted to talk to you before you went to hang out with Seth. They liked Seth so you didn’t understand why they just couldn’t wait to talk to you later.

But they said they couldn’t wait that long. You thought about it and the only times they've acted like this is when they're about to surprise you with something. Or if they feel like they hadn’t been treated fairly as in quality time. And last you check you’ve spent equal time with them all separately and together. So it wasn’t that so it had to be a surprise right?

“Are you in one of your emo moods right now?” You asked genuinely curious. That seemed to only upset him more because he didn’t talk the whole time until the rest of your mates arrived.

It didn’t take them as long as you thought that it would. You thought they were gonna drive in their cars like Edward did but they didn’t. They walked or ran or whatever. Edward made you get back into the car while you were waiting because it started raining. Of course It was still raining when they arrived, it's Forks after all. But that didn’t stop you from smiling and getting out of the car when you saw the rest of your loves. Hopefully you could sneak some more insight on why Edward was in a pissy mood.

The closer they got to the car the more you practically bounced with excitement. You had missed them even though you saw them only two days ago. Too long according to the beat in your heart. As you tapped your feet in the rain puddles you couldn’t help yourself from letting out a squeal of excitement. Running up to the closest person you could reach. That being Jasper, you jumped in his arms. The sound of the car door opening and closing fell numb to your ears. And sadly so did the sound of the car driving away.

The sound of thunder rang through your ears making you jump, scaring you a little. But something you noticed didn’t happen was the feeling of that fear going away immediately. It stayed. Jasper always felt like home but something was wrong. Something was different.

“You didn’t wrap your arms around me?” You said furrowing your eyebrows. Looking at Jasper you watched as the rain melted his hair against his face. His beautiful wet curls dripped with the wetness of rain. You would eat him right here right now if he wasn’t being so strange right now.

He didn’t answer, he just stepped back away from you. You shifted your eyes behind him to look at the rest of your mates. Rose was clinging onto Emmett’s arm next to Rose was Carlisle and Esme then there was Edward.

“Wasn’t Alice just here? Wait a minute, where's the car?” You asked, looking around in confusion. When you turned around there was no car, just an empty wet road. Something was totally wrong.

“What’s going on?” You questioned. It took a while for anyone to say a thing. Just when you were about to repeat yourself Carlisle spoke up.

“We need to talk.” He said.

“Well I knew that much dummy, But why couldn’t we just talk later? It’s raining and I’m supposed to be hanging out with Seth.” You said with a soft smile trying to ease your nerves. You don’t remember the last time you did this by yourself all on your own. Jasper would always be there to ease your feelings or stress. Even though you would say no he’d never listen. He would always catch a rise in your stress before you did and calm you down.

“We're leaving.” Carlisle said. You noticed that his hair took a little longer to melt against his face unlike Jasper.

“Ooo okay where are we going this time, tokyo? I’ve always wanted to-” You said getting excited again but you were quickly cut off by Esme.

“Without you.” She said looking at you for a little then she turned her head away. Her statement made the smile drop from your face as quickly as it came.

“What? What do you mean? How long are you going to be gone?” You questioned with your eyes shifting in between your six mates. This felt all so sudden, what happened in those two days you weren’t together?

“Forever. There’s nothing here for us in Forks anymore.” Emmet said breaking your heart with every single word.

“But I’m here..” You said as your voice cracked mid sentence. You could feel the knot in your stomach get tight and tighter. You didn’t know how to handle this. So you did the only thing you know how to do. You turned to Jasper.

“Jasper s-stop it! Tell me this is all just a big cruel joke and you're not leaving, You're not leaving me.” You practically begged. Walking towards him you moved your hands up to touch him but he brushed you off. He pushed your hands away so swiftly and he stared you in your eyes. They were cold. No emotion was found. You tried your best to find something, anything. But there was nothing found.

“I don’t love you, I never did. I ask that you please refrain from touching me.” Jasper said sternly. Your heart dropped lower and lower with every word that fell from his mouth.

“Stop lying! I know for a fact that you're all in love with me. So much that your cold dead hearts beat for me!” You yelled out as you wiped the rain and tears from your eyes.

“We have no reason to lie. It wouldn’t bring any gain on our end to lie.” Edward said plainly as if this was all a fact.

“You were just a family pet. Why would we ever associate ourselves with a useless human as yourself? You can’t even control your own emotions. You forget to even feed yourself. What simple creature does that? You struggle to speak simple words, you can’t comprehend anything. And you cling onto us like we're a free ticket out of here. We’ve never loved you. We’ve never even wanted you.” Rosailse said, making the first tear drop down your cheek. You bit your bottom lip hard in attempts to prevent yourself from full on crying.

“Rose and I just thought why not join in on the family fun for once? We always kept to ourselves and now I understand why, you weren’t much fun to play with in the first place. We're done.” Emmett said and before you could say another thing they were gone.

“W-wait!” You coughed out as a steady stream of tears ran down your face mixing with the rain.

“I will say you spiced up me and Carlisle’s marriage a little bit. But you were never enough. Seeing how young you are, you should’ve known that you were never going to be more than just a temporary toy for us.” Esme said, grabbing Carlisle's hand. Your eyes couldn’t help but shift down to her action. The simple action of touch pained your heart so much you couldn’t stop the sound of your cry coming out your mouth.

“Forget about us. Move on. It will be best for you if you did so. You meant nothing to us. I’m sorry I let it go on this long.” Carlisle said, gripping onto Esme's hands. And just when you took a step towards them they were gone.

“No no no-” You were cut off by a gasp of your own. You felt like you couldn’t breathe. It hurt. It hurt so bad. You felt like your soul had been shattered into a thousand grains of sand that would never be made into a beautiful beach again. You felt like you’ve just turned into a dry desert.

“It hurts Jasper, it hurts.” You cried out. You were sure your eyes were bloodshot red right now. The mix of tears and rain was not a good combination.

“You should have never gotten attached. It took everything in me not to just drain you dry of your blood but I couldn’t. So I chose the next best thing. It wasn’t as good as it would’ve been if I had just killed you when we met.” Jasper said with his thick southern accent. Normally you would jump with joy or giggle when he talked to you but you felt worse than hurt right now. You didn’t think this could get any worse. But as he took one more look at you he frowned like you were just the most dissecting thing he's ever seen.

“Pathetic.” And then he was gone.

You turned to Edward and walked up to him. And in the few steps it took to get to him you felt the anger flood through your veins.

“Is this why you were acting like such a bitch? You knew?! Why didn’t you tell me? Why couldn’t you give me just that one effort of decency!? Why don’t you love me?!” You yelled at him as a strike of lightning struck you couldn’t even find yourself to get scared.

“You wouldn’t stop prying, why wouldn’t I give in and have a little fun? I told you I was a monster. You insisted on otherwise why wouldn’t I tell you a lesson? It seems that was the only way you could learn.” He said slowly tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“Hopefully you’ve learned your lesson to not trust a vampire especially when they warn you that they are soulless.” And then he too was gone.

Staring in the spot they all stood previously you felt your breathing pick up. You couldn’t help yourself but to cry harder. The pain in your heart was something you knew would never go away. No one ever forgets their first love and somehow they all were your first. Though you were crying, all you felt was numbness. The freezing rain was nothing compared to what you were feeling inside. You dropped down and laid on the hard tar road. The sound of the rain pounding against the ground was a constant reminder of what just happened.

You used to love rain. Now you think you hate it. It’s supposed to wash away all the bad and replace it with all the good it could possibly give. But what good could possibly come out of this? You don’t know how long you laid there all you knew was when you opened your eyes there Seth was. What was he doing here? Your vision was cloudy and everything sounded muffled. You were moving? Wait what was going on? You turned your head and squinted when you were faced by blue and red lights.

You tried moving your arm and doing so you let out a scream of pain. What the hell happened? What happened? Oh my god! You thought. Wait, were these your thoughts? What's going on?

“What happened?!” Charlie yelled out rushing to Seth.

“W-we need a doctor, a hospital! She got hit by a car it- the car it crashed into a tree. I don't think the people in it are okay, I think she- they-.” Seth was cut off by Sam’s voice. Seth was panicking but he knew he had to come here first Sam said so.

“We found her! She was in the woods.” Sam said, walking up to Charlie.

“Is she okay?! Where is Carlisle? I need to call him.” Charlie said. He was overwhelmed and didn’t know who needed his attention more.

“Didn’t you hear? The Cullens, they're gone.” Billy said, rolling up to see what was happening.

“Call the police.” Charlie said.

“You’re the Sheriff sir. Please hurry up, she needs a doctor!” Seth said trying not to freak out but Charlie was doing the same except he was in shock.

“I- Put her in my car. I’ll take her.” He commanded. Seth followed his instructions.

The rain still fell and that was all you knew. The one thing that came to your head and the only thing that came to you was.

What good would this bring?

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ask-whitepearl-and-steven · 4 months

Note

Um, hi! Regarding that other anonymous asker wondering about the comic's enjoyability, I actually WAS one of the people who voted "I've never watched the show but I do read the comic" in that poll; all my prior knowledge about Steven Universe was from passive osmosis. I don't know anyone personally who likes it either, my baseline is limited to, like, the premise and 'hey I think that one's a major character?' every now and then (this was most recently Lapis Lazuli. Peridot I'm prettttty sure is canon, but I didn't recognise her right off. Betting that Sea Glass isn't. No clue about Jasper).

So if it's of any help, from my experience I do think that your comic is fairly accessible to folks outwith the Steven Universe fandom! I read long-form fanfiction for media I know nothing about on a regular basis, and it does a good job of explaining the core concepts required for the plot to hold water; it makes it much harder to spot foreshadowing that I feel may have been more obvious to experienced readers (e.g. I didn't get anywhere near working out Earl's issue because I didn't know that A. White Diamond could do mind control, or B. what societal role Pearl-class gems (is that the term?) hold relative to the Diamonds), but the actual narrative itself holds up well so long as you're willing to put the thought in. Actively following your blog helps a bit too, I've gotten extra context clues from the FAQ and asks you've answered.

My one warning would be that reading a long-form story for a fandom you don't know is a very different experience. The best way I could describe it is akin to reading Arthurian stories or folkloric retellings without studying the source material: while the main narrative is comprehensible, you become distinctly aware that certain parts are name-checking their original culture in a way that the author expects to be apparent but isn't, not to you. I spend a lot of time faintly baffled when I'm not cross-referencing between multiple fics for commonalities to reverse-engineer (also do that regularly, would recommend), which is fine! It's fun! Might not be for everyone, though.

I just want you to know I love this ask, and I was enraptured reading this. It's a very cool insight! Especially as someone with the exact opposite reading philosophy, this is extremely valuable.

It's neat to also get a confirmation about the fact that a lot of over-the-top stuff that was meant to echo the original show might not get pinged by those who aren't familiar with the original. Though to be fair, people didn't quite pick up on what was happening with Earl even when they knew what White Diamond's powers were.

I also find it hilarious to realize that Jasper might not be a recognizable original-show character to most outsiders. DEMOTED!

#chekhov answers

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junkdrawerfics · 11 months

Text

What's Imprinting?

Jasper Hale X Reader

Summary: You are a wolf shift, except you have no clue what that is. During your search for someone like you, someone who can explain what's happening, you run into a certain vampire and you, what did he call it? You imprint on him apparently!

Word Count: 2037

Note: So this plays with the idea that there are other wolf shifters besides the Quileute tribe, mainly because I am not Native American and don't feel comfortable writing a reader that explicitly is. No origin is stated, so it's open to all.

---

When you first shifted, every facet of your reality shifted with you.

Suddenly, things you thought were just stories became disturbingly real. Every monster. Every myth. You couldn’t rule any of them out, not when you could turn into a massive wolf and run faster than a car.

The worst part was not knowing why. And you couldn’t ask just anyone.

So you left. There had to be someone who could explain why this happened to you. Someone like you. Somewhere. Finding them turns out to be harder than you think though, because, like you, someone who can turn into a wolf doesn’t exactly want the world to know about them.

So now, after a year of searching, you’re in Washington. On the brink of giving up.

Letting out a low huff, you drop yourself onto the edge of the cliff, staring down at the waves below you. The dark water crashes against the rocks, as if it’s trying to rip the cliff away, mist spraying high into the air. The salty smell of the ocean drifts up on the soft breeze. You take a deep breath, trying to rid yourself of the lingering city scent.

Seattle proved fruitless. Not that you were really expecting much. What kind of wolf would stay in a place so gross? Every city block brought a new scent. Garbage, grease, smog, sewer. Just like every other city you’ve been to. Even if there was another wolf there, you’d never be able to catch their scent in all of that.

“I swear, if I end up smelling like that city for the next week,” you grumble to yourself, nose scrunching at the thought.

“I don’t think you smell all that bad.”

You freeze.

Someone’s behind you?

Every muscle in your body goes taut as a scent suddenly sweeps over you. It’s like walking into a candy shop, so sickeningly sweet and heady, it makes your head spin. Your wolf snarls to the surface, jaws snapping, hackles bristling. Screaming at you to run.

Fear creeps up your spine.

But then it just…disappears.

Everything falls still. Your mind, the anxiety pulsing through your veins, even your wolf. The strange sense of calm that floods through you covers it all like a heavy fog. But it’s not you. It’s not you.

“What are you doing to me?” You breathe out shakily, fingers digging into the stone under you.

“Just stay calm.” It’s a man, his voice deep and soothing, rolling with a southern accent that would be charming under different circumstances.

But right now, you’re just focused on the way your panic keeps being taken away. You can’t even feel frustrated about it without that being covered too.

“You don’t seem to be giving me an option,” you growl. It has to be him. Nothing else could explain it. What is he? How is he doing this?

“I can answer all your questions if you just give me-”

“Stop it!” You flip around, lips pulled back in a snarl, ready to phase and snap this guy’s head off.

Until your eyes meet a pair of honey gold ones.

The whole world seems to slow down, all except your heart, because the man in front of you is possibly the most beautiful person you’ve ever set eyes on. He’s tall and lean, with a face that looks like it’s been carved from marble. And his smile. It slants his mouth in an adorably boyish way.

Your eyes trail down the pale curve of his neck, across his broad shoulders, down his arms. That’s when you notice countless scars littering his pale skin. Like a match striking stone, rage flares to life in you, so sharp and sudden you have to clench your eyes shut to stop yourself from phasing.

How could someone do that to him? You’ll kill them. All of them. You’ll hunt them down and-

Wait.

Eyes flickering back open, wide now as you look back at the blond and his strikingly gold eyes, you can’t help but shrink back. What was that? What is this feeling? A deep ache starts in your chest, only growing worse when you put more distance between you. Like you want to be close to him. Like everything you’ve done up until this moment doesn’t matter, and all you want is to just press into him and learn everything about him and protect him.

The man keeps his eyes trained on you, brow creasing when you let out a strangled, confused whine. He takes a step forward, hand reaching out for you, but stops in his tracks when you flinch.

“Are you doing this too?” You demand, practically toeing the edge of the cliff now.

“No.”

As if his words carry magic, your struggling panic eases. You take a deep breath, easing away from the cliff and closer to the handsome stranger. A smile pulls at his lips again, all soft and kind and tempting. For a split second, you wonder what it would feel like to kiss hi-

“Why do I feel this way then?” You wrap your arms around yourself, unnerved by the sudden desires burning under your skin.

The blond raises a confused brow, “I believe you wolves call it ‘imprinting’.”

Imprinting? What on earth does that me-

Your eyes blow wide, voice shrill, “Wolves?”

The man nods. He knows. How does he know? And why doesn’t it bother you that he knows?

You expect the panic to come back, or your wolf to go crazy, but nothing. And it’s not him this time. Instead of any of that, you almost feel…relieved. There’s no need to hide. You don’t want to hide.

You look at the man again. He should be threatening. Tall stature, lean muscles, and all those scars. But when you look at him, all you feel is the need to be closer. You look at him and you feel safe for the first time in years. Is this what imprinting is?

“Who are you?” You ask, barely above a whisper.

“My name’s Jasper Whitlock,” he hums, inching closer. You don’t back away.

“How do you know I’m…?”

The blond - Jasper - chuckles, the sound warm and rough, “Your kind has a particular scent, easy to recognize. Though yours isn’t that bad.”

Brow furrowing, you have to resist the urge to sniff your clothes, “You can…smell me?”

“Vampires have keen senses.”

Vampires. He’s a vampire. Of course he’s a vampire. Pale skin. Unusually colored eyes. The scent, which has changed since you first caught it. It’s softer somehow, still sweet, but more like caramel and dark chocolate. Addictive.

“So you, you um, and I, okay.” You drop to the ground abruptly, legs folding under you. Your head is spinning with all the new information. “So you’re a vampire?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he drawls, eyes gleaming with amusement as he sits himself a couple feet away from you.

“And you know I’m a werewolf.” A nod. “What is - What did you call it? - Imprinting?”

“You don’t know?” You hunch your shoulders, cheeks growing warm under his curious gaze. Jasper frowns, “I suppose you wouldn’t. My understandin’ is that when your kind imprints, it’s like…findin’ your soulmate.”

Soulmate. That’s…big. It seems life just can’t stop throwing curveballs at you. First the wolf thing, now you learn you have a soulmate. A vampire soulmate. Who looks like a Greek sculpture. While you must look like a mess.

“I can’t believe this,” you grumble, mostly to yourself, but Jasper still hears you if his amused smile is anything to go on. “All I’ve been looking for is another wolf to explain what on Earth is happening to me and instead I find my soulmate, who’s a vampire. I thought werewolves and vampires hated each other? That’s what all the books say!”

“Most humans enjoy exaggerating the details,” Jasper drawls, “Though this is certainly unusual.”

You pout. How are you supposed to react to all of this? On one hand, it’s completely crazy. On the other, he could be the answer to everything you’ve been searching for. He knows what you are, maybe he knows why! Or maybe-

“Do you know other wolves?” You practically jump at him, hope soaring in your chest.

Jasper freezes. His gold eyes go wide, trailing down your arm. Cocking your head in confusion, you follow his gaze. Your eyes go just as wide as his at the sight.

Unbeknownst to you, you grabbed onto his hand, your fingers awkwardly interlacing with his. His skin is cold to the touch, but you feel overwhelmingly hot as your embarrassment skyrockets. You should let go. The man is still a stranger. But you can’t bring yourself to do it. Touching him feels…right. Taking a deep breath, you look back up to his face hesitantly.

The shock is gone, replaced with a look of awe. Jasper slowly shifts his hand, fitting them together more comfortably. Your skin tingles with each touch, your heart dancing wildly in your chest. His eyes dart back up to yours, and the warmth there makes your breath stutter.

“I was worried I wouldn’t be able to handle bein’ around you,'' he breathes, the low hum of his voice quickly becoming your favorite song. You could listen to him for hours and never get bored. “I wanted this to be perfect. I’ve been waitin’ a long while for you-”

“(Y/n),” you supply without thinking.

Jasper smiles softly, repeating it to himself, “(Y/n)...”

And just like that, you find yourself falling for the vampire. Jasper Whitlock. The golden light that came into your life when you were so close to giving up.

You sit on that cliff for hours, asking countless questions. Jasper answers each and every one of them, the best he can at least. You learn about his family, how they’re different from other vampires and don’t harm humans, a fact that brings you more relief than you expected. He tells you about Alice and her visions, the one she had of you, and his years waiting for you.

You, in turn, tell him about your life as a human. Your small town, your family, and how much you miss them. You recount when you first phased and how you’ve been searching for someone to explain it all. For him.

It’s only when the sun starts to set, painting the sky in dreamy shades of pink and purple, that your conversation trails off into a comfortable silence. You look out across the water, thoughts drifting to your still intertwined fingers. You don’t have the heart to let go, and Jasper seems more than pleased to hold on to you.

“So,” you hesitate. The words stick to your tongue despite how desperately you want to ask them. As if sensing this, Jasper squeezes your hand softly, a silent encouragement. You gather every bit of your remaining confidence, all to ask, “What now?”

He hums and traces his thumb over your knuckles thoughtfully, tenderly, “What do you want to happen, darlin’?”

You don’t have to think about it. The words tumble from your lips readily, “I want to be with you.”

And the smile he gives you is all you need to know you’ve made the right choice. It lights up his whole face, and for a moment, you swear his eyes seem to glow. And, just as you think he can’t look more beautiful, the last few rays of sunlight streak across the cliff, reflecting off his skin like diamonds, surrounding him with an angelic haze. It steals your breath away.

How absolutely gorgeous.

“I think that can be arranged,” Jasper replies, drawing you from your stupor.

“Good, cause you’re officially stuck with me,” you chirp and lean into his side.

Jasper slips his hand out from yours, leaving you feeling horribly empty, until his arm wraps securely around your shoulders to draw you even closer. The gesture sends pure elation buzzing through your whole body. If you were in wolf form, your tail would be wagging like a tornado. You curl into him, hiding your own smile in his sweater.

When you first phased, you never imagined this is where you would end up.

Maybe fate wasn’t too cruel, after all.

---

Might have a part 2 for this, because I have a funny idea for when they team up with the wolves in Eclipse.

I hope you guys enjoyed it!

#reader insert #x reader #reader #jasper hale #jasper whitlock #twilight saga #twilight #jasper hale x reader #jasper whitlock x reader #jasper x reader #wolf reader #werewolf reader

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imaslutforwritingshit · 8 months

Text

Edward Cullen Imagine (F!Reader)

Y’all this took 2 hours 😨

WARNING- smut, biting, oral (m receiving)

PART ONE

Fem. Reader-

Name: Calypso Sawyer (Callie)

Origin- From New Mexico, came to Forks with her father. Had just been introduced as Edward’s girlfriend to the Cullen family<3 A human girl, similar dynamic with Edward, and personality as Bella (but not as y/n tropey as Bella acted💀)

EDWARD CAN READ CALLIE’S MIND*

He just fell in love with her cuz she’s hot af

Setting- The Cullen Mansion

“I think I have to go now.”

Edward furrowed his perfect eyebrows, a tug of smile reaching his lips. “That’s not really necessary, Calypso.”

God, the way my name sounded on his lips made me wild.

I forced myself to think straight. “But Alice and Jasper already left. Emmett says he’s about to, too.”

Edward chuckled, a sweet, soft sound. “Jasper’s only leaving because you smell so mouthwatering. He wouldn’t want you to leave on his behalf. Stay.” The last words felt urgent on his tongue, and a sudden jolt of electricity ran through my veins.

Staying, at Edward’s house.

Alone with him.

Maybe I should be scared that I’m going to be alone with a vampire. A cold blooded killer.

But I’m more terrified of what I’ll do around him. The way he makes my senses heighten, and the rest of the world disappear. How he makes my heart feel close to bursting with a brush of his fingers.

I’m scared of myself.

“I don’t know, Edward.” The lie felt far-away in my mouth.

Edward’s smile faded, and he repositioned his body on the large bookshelf. “Because of me?” The look in his eyes told me he had read the words in my mind, the fear I felt, even if it wasn’t directed to him.

“No!” I rushed the words out, and stood off the sofa to touch his face, leaning my body to his shoulders. “No, anything but you. I just don’t want to mess this up.”

Edward laughed, a heavenly vibration on my neck. The small gesture warmed my insides. “You can’t mess this up, Callie. Nothing you could do would pull me away from you.”

I looked up at him. The strong line of his jaw, those predatory, bewildering amber eyes. My gaze wandered to the soft curves of his lips, and I couldn’t help myself when I leaned in.

He gripped my lower back in response, pulling me closer as we kissed. He was delicate, careful with his movement as always, but the intoxicating tease of his tongue on mine was different. He explored my mouth with a new passion, trailing his fingers on my waist. I shivered at the cold, yet exhilarating touch. Edward immediately coiled back, his chest rising and falling quickly from the touch.

“Are you okay?” I knew he already understood I was okay, the light in his eyes proving he already read my mind.

I almost laughed. “Yes, God. I’m okay, Edward.” A playful smile reached my lips, and I grabbed the collars of his shirt, letting my warm fingertips slide over his neck.

The feeling of my skin caused Edward to tilt his head back roughly, the clench of his jaw stronger. His tussled hair spread on old books rearranged on his shelf, and he closed his eyes, like my fingers were blades.

The room was blanketed in a heavy softness, so comfortable I pushed even more, letting my fingers fall to the smooth lines of his collarbones.

“Fuck, Callie!” Edward pushed away from me, and rushed his body to the balcony with supernatural speed, grabbing the railings with brutal strength. I stared with shock as his his body heaved with breath, the thin fabric of his grey shirt untucked from his dark blue slacks.

I covered my mouth and backed up. “Shit, is it my blood?” I hadn’t stopped to consider what my scent could have done to him. I even wore an extra layer of perfume to try to offset it, but it might’ve made it worse.

Edward turned around, walking to me in quick strides, and I fell back on the sofa. He kneeled in front of me, balancing his body on his palms on the cushion.

“That’s not what’s driving me crazy right now.”

I leaned closer, letting my lips part slightly. “Then what is it?”

Edward dropped his head from my eyesight, and curled his fingers near my own. “Vampires, especially males,” Edward lowered his voice, struggling to get the words out. “We go through potent episodes of…lust.”

My mouth fell open, and I manually forced my jaw to shut. “What?” My voice was an octave higher. “Like… in heat?”

Edward laughed a dry, humorless laugh. “Yeah, you could say that.” His eyes met mine, the predatory color returning, like the way he had looked at me the first day we met.

I unconsciously almost moved back, but decided against it. Curiosity dared me to ask the next words. “So…um-how do you… take care of it?”

Edward’s hands snaked to my fingers, casually tracing circles on my knuckles. “How any guy would. Calypso, I’m still 17 in body.”

My face burned. The thought of Edward touching his body, pleasuring his self- it was too much to bear. Edward saw the blush on my face, and his nails dug into my fingers. His jaw was clenched so strongly I thought it would break, and his eyes had a dark coat of desire. He looked so desperate, a biological need for my body on his. So desperate for me. I could practically feel my mind, naked for him, all the images of his body spilling out of my thoughts.

I spoke before I could stop myself, the husky pitch of my voice unrecognizable.

“I suppose I could help you, then. It’s only fair.”

Those words alone flipped Edward over the edge. His fangs bared white, and he grabbed the small of my back, pulling me to the floor. My thighs landed, kneeled up, hitting the planes of his shoulders. He growled, running his hands over my body in animal-like movements.

“You don’t understand,” he groaned lowly, “what I want to do to you. It would sicken you. Everything I’ve thought about.”

I moaned at his touch, the embarrassment from the sound reaching the burn of my face. But it seemed to affect Edward more than me, because his breath changed into a rapid pace on my shoulder blades.

“I’d do anything for you, Edward.”

It was true.

He let out a breathy sound, and snaked his hands under my shirt, each point of my skin electrified into flame at the smooth pressure of his palm.

“You know what I want to do with you, Callie?” He brought his hand higher under my shirt, just above my ribs.

Desire clouded my vision.

“Show me.”

He exhaled in my ear, and roughly dropped his lips to mine, a strange sensation of cold skin meeting my warm one, causing fire to pop in my mouth.

“I won’t be able to control myself, Calypso.” His voice was so raw, stripped bare. He needed me, now. The very sound set me over the edge.

“I already can’t control myself when I’m around you.” I trailed my fingers from the muscles of his back, all the way to the seam of his pants. I traced the lines holding me back from his body, and he shuddered in the crook of my neck.

And he pushed a sharp sting of pressure on my neck- a bite. Edward breathed heavily, licking the area he drew his fangs in my body.

This was a dangerous, dangerous game. He was biting me so hard, the layers of my skin ripped, but not hard enough to draw blood.

This was a reckless mistake, a taste of his full desire for me.

And fuck, it was attractive. I could feel the area between my thighs throbbing, and I tried to clench my legs together, but his body was practically spreading mine out now.

Edward tenderly kissed the area, then dragged his teeth up my neck, biting just under my jaw. It stung even more this time, and his wet tongue drew circles, making my fingers tremble.

A loud whimper slipped from my mouth, and I dropped my head on his broad shoulder. I could feel the vibrations of his chuckle, and he pulled the fabric of my shirt over my head, a strange confidence washing over him.

“You’re so beautiful, Callie.” His voice had softened, but the low desire still edged on his words, and he let his fingertips meet the clasp of my bra. I gasped, and pushed my palms on his chest. “Please-“

Edward tugged on the lace, a sign to shut me up. “Let me enjoy this. I want you to feel good.”

I was practically leaking out of my panties now, and I prayed to God it didn’t show from my shorts.

He undid the bra, carefully letting the lace fall off my body. The cold air met my already hard nipples, and I fought the urge to cover my body.

I felt so vulnerable. But I liked it. Feeling vulnerable for him.

Edward didn’t hide the breathy moan in his throat, and he kissed my breasts, starting from the low curve to the area near my collarbone. “You’re so perfect, it’s driving me insane. Insane.”

But his hands were grasped tighter around me, nails practically poking through my skin. I knew he was getting impatient.

I pushed him off, gentle enough to be kind, but strong enough to send a message. He wiped his mouth, the swell of his pink lips shining in the light of the open room.

“Get on the bed.” I paused, and added a sweet plead to my tone. “Please.”

Edward slowly rose to his feet, holding the tips of my fingers, but his eyes didn’t rise off my bare body. I could feel the blood rushing to my face.

He sat on the edge of the bed, spreading his legs effortlessly. I watched the strong muscles of his thighs, then trailed my eyes higher, to the bulge in his pants.

Shit.

He leaned back on his arms, a cocky expression smoothing over his features. He was watching me, seeing what I was going to do.

But the urgency in his eyes didn’t fade, and I knew one thing, and one thing only.

I wanted to please him.

I dropped to my knees, and Edward immediately raised his body, closing his knees a little. I pushed the top of his thigh open, and he relaxed tentatively.

“Callie, you don’t have to-“

I rose my eyes to his, hoping the innocent expression would get him to stop talking. It did. His words caught when he stared back down at my breasts, and he shifted his legs uncomfortably to try to hide the reaction of his body.

A smile danced on my lips, and I pulled down the zipper of his pants. He was so big, and I hadn’t even seen his boxers yet.

I wondered if this ever happened before, if he had ever gotten hard to the thought of me.

“Yes. It did. And I have.” Edward smiled, savoring the embarrassment on my face.

The fact he read my mind, heard those thoughts,

I didn’t hesitate when I pulled down his pants.

He was wearing dark grey boxers, clean and neat around his lean frame. His cock was pressing against the fabric, the shape almost being explicit against his underwear.

His voice was thick with mockery. “Do you need me to help you, pretty girl? You seem a little nervous.”

I ripped those off, too.

His cock sprang up, and wo-ow, his body is probably entirely perfect. A pink head, delicately sculpted on his thick shaft, the entire shape veiny, like some work of art, smooth, pale skin twitching with anticipation.

He laughed, the admiration of his dick apparently seeping through my thoughts. I slowly let my fingers wrap around it, and Edward’s breath hitched. I brought my body closer, the points of my nipples grazing over his knees, and I let my mouth touch the tip of his cock. He immediately arched his neck, throwing his head back as if every small touch was causing him overwhelming pleasure. I could see the way his hands were gripping the sheets, and I suddenly wished he was grabbing my hair, instead.

As if he was reading my mind, (he was), Edward let his hand drag on my scalp, urging my mouth to go farther.

I dropped my lips, pushing his dick to the back of my throat, but the length of his shaft was too much for me to fit all the way. Edward didn’t make any complaints, though, because he was too busy trying to control the raspy moans slipping from his tongue.

“That’s it. Yeah, good-“ he broke into a low groan, bucking his hips forward. “Good girl.”

The pet name had me bobbing my head even more, warming his entire dick with the saliva of my mouth. I could feel Edward’s eyes on me, taking in the skin of my back, the feeling of my lips. He clenched the scalp of my hair, and began pushing my head on his body, working my mouth the way he wanted.

He forced my head down, dropping it all the way on his dick, and I made myself take it all instead of gagging. He jerked my head up, over and over, each thrust of his hips in my mouth messier and shorter, as if he was close already. His dick warmed the back of my throat, but he pulled my lips all the way up, saliva coating my tongue. Edward’s eyes were pools of black now, so dark it slightly terrified me.

Whatever episodes of lust he was talking about, he must’ve hit his peak now. It seemed like he was on the brink of destroying me.

“Get up.” His voice was hoarse, and his mouth twitched with the words.

As soon as I did, Edward used his strength to slam me to the couch, letting my stomach hit the cushion. I repositioned my head, trying to meet his eye, but he crawled on top of me, and whispered low in my ear,

“The way I’m about to make you scream, my love, is gonna hurt way more than my cock in your pretty throat.”

Part TWO here

#smut #twilight #edward cullen #edward cullen smut #twilight fanfiction #twilight fandom #twilight x reader #alice cullen #emmett cullen #carlisle cullen #edward x reader #smut imagine #fanfiction #fanfic #edward cullen x reader #edward cullen x oc #twilight saga

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adiraargent · 2 months

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You drew stars around my scars - Slytherin Boys

summary: Slytherin boys (Taylor's Version) x Reader warnings: mentions of scars (not specified what from), swearing, smoking includes: Theodore Nott, Mattheo Riddle, Jasper Rowle, Draco Malfoy and Tom Riddle - I will do a part 2 with other characters if anybody wants one :) wc: 2373 Part 2

Theodore Nott - Cardigan

Theodore Nott sat beside you on the edge of the bed, his gaze tender as he studied the scars that adorned your skin. You could feel his fingers tracing gentle patterns along the lines of your past, his touch feather-light as he navigated the landscape of your history.

As you looked up at him, a warmth swelled in your chest, but you couldn't help but worry. Worry that he was just use you, use you like others had done in the past. Tossing you away when they were done with you.

And when I felt like I was an old cardigan under someone's bed, you put me on and said I was your favorite

"Thank's for sticking around Theo," you murmerd softly, your cheeks flushing a pretty pink tone.

He looked up at you then, his eyes filled with an intensity that took your breath away. "You are my favorite person in this shitty world," he murmured, his voice soft like the rustle of leaves in the wind, despite the crude words. "Every scar, every imperfection, only serves to make you more beautiful in my eyes."

His words washed over you like a soothing balm, calming the storm of insecurities that raged within your soul. With Theodore by your side, you felt safe, protected from the harsh judgments of the world by the warmth of his love.

And when you are young, they assume you know nothing

People had always judged you for something, it was a judgemental world that you lived in. Maybe someone judged you for your skin, or your scars... or maybe just the way that you wore your hair. Maybe it was your weight or your height. Nobody was perfect... thought Theodore Nott would beg to differ, in his eyes you were the embodiment of perfection.

And of course, people judged you for being with Theodore Nott, a Slytherin boy with a troubled past. One that liked to smoke and drink, that liked to get into fights and argue with teachers and students alike. But you were in love. 'Love?' they'd ask you and laugh. 'You're so young, what the hell would you know about love?'

But I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss

Theodore's fingers stilled against your skin, his eyes searching yours with a depth of understanding that left you breathless. "I may not have all the answers," he said softly, "but I promise to stand by your side through every uncertainty, to hold you close and chase away the shadows of doubt that threaten to consume you."

And as he leaned in to press a gentle kiss against each scar, his lips a tender caress against your skin, you felt a sense of peace settle over you like a warm embrace. With Theodore, you knew that you were never alone, that no matter what trials and tribulations lay ahead, you would face them together, hand in hand, heart in heart.

For in his touch, you found solace and strength, a reminder that love had the power to heal even the deepest wounds. And as he traced stars around your scars with his fingers, you knew that no matter how dark the night may seem, the light of his love would guide you safely home.

Okay but i'm really happy with this icl

Mattheo Riddle - Mine

And I remember that fight, 2:30 AM As everything was slipping right out of our hands

As the moon hung high in the sky, casting its silvery light over the darkened landscape, you quietly snuck out of your shared home , your heart heavy with doubt and fear. Tears streamed down your face unchecked as you clutched your suitcase tightly, the weight of your decision bearing down on you like a heavy burden.

You had always struggled with trust issues and abandonment fears, scars from a childhood marred by betrayal and heartache. And now, faced with the prospect of being completely in love with a boy who had been nothing but good to you, you couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by the magnitude of it all.

Mattheo Riddle, that cocky, short-tempered Slytherin, had become the center of your world, a beacon of light in the darkness that threatened to consume you. You got together in your second last year of school and were still together now a year after graduating. And yet, the thought of allowing yourself to fall completely and unconditionally in love with him terrified you to your core. You loved him, you knew that you did... but did love really exist? Falling in love was dangerous, it was setting yourself up to get your heart broken.

"I'll never leave you alone," his voice echoed in your mind, a soothing melody amidst the chaos of your thoughts. You had been sitting at the Black lake, the two of you had been together for 3 months and it was the first time you had told each other 'I love you'

But as much as you longed to believe his words, the scars of your past lingered like a shadow, a constant reminder of the pain and suffering you had endured. Even after all this time, you still had doubts. And so, with a heavy heart and tear-stained cheeks, you made the decision to leave, to distance yourself from the one person who had come to mean everything to you.

I ran out, crying, and you followed me out into the street Braced myself for the goodbye 'Cause that's all I've ever known

Bracing yourself for the goodbye, you took a hesitant step forward, the weight of your suitcase dragging behind you like an anchor. But before you could take another step, a voice called out to you from behind, stopping you dead in your tracks.

Turning around, you saw Mattheo running towards you, his eyes filled with an intensity that took your breath away. "I won't let you go," he said, his voice trembling with emotion. "I'll never leave you alone, I promise."

And in that moment, as he took you in his arms and held you close, you felt a sense of peace wash over you like a wave crashing against the shore. For in Mattheo's embrace, you found solace and strength, a reminder that love had the power to heal even the deepest wounds.

I fell in love with a careless man's careful daughter

"I promise I will do everything to prove I am nothing like he was," he whispered against your ear, his words a testament to the depth of his love and devotion. "You're the best thing that's ever been mine."

And as you looked into his eyes, filled with love and sincerity, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together, hand in hand, heart in heart. For in Mattheo Riddle, you had found a love worth fighting for, a love that would stand the test of time.

Jasper Rowle

As you and Jasper Rwle walked hand in hand through the winding streets of Diagon Alley, a sense of contentment settled over you like a warm blanket on a cold winter's night. His hand in yours felt like home, grounding you in the present moment and reassuring you. You felt so safe with him, the way he softly rubbed your hand with his thumb sent warmth through your body, the heat being a stark contrast to the snow falling around you

"Can I go where you go?" you whispered, your voice barely above a hushed murmur as you gazed up at him with adoration shining in your eyes. You didn't mean to say it out loud. But you just wanted to be with him as much as possible, the way you felt when you were around him was unlike anything you had felt before.

You felt alive, wanted... loved.

Jasper's lips curved into a tender smile, his eyes sparkling with love and affection. "Forever and ever," he replied, his voice a soft melody in the air. "You and me, always."

And as you walked together, lost in the beauty of the moment, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude wash over you like a wave crashing against the shore.

Take me out, and take me home

He brought your hand up to his lips, placing a soft kiss against your skin, "c'mon, lets get to the three broomsticks then I'll take you back, its not good for you to be out in the snow for too long, I don't want you to get sick.

You're my, my, my, my Lover.

"Okay my love," you replied with a smile, letting him pull you along in the direction of the pub.

Jasper's grip on your hand tightened, as though afraid to let go, as though afraid that this perfect moment would slip through his fingers like grains of sand. "You're so gorgous," he whispered, his voice filled with a tenderness that took your breath away. "i adore you."

And as you walked together, lost in the maze of streets and alleys, you knew that no matter where life may take you, you would always find your way back to each other.

Draco Malfoy - getaway car

No, nothin' good starts in a getaway car

The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting a golden hue over the sprawling grounds of Malfoy Manor as Draco Malfoy and you sat together on his expensive broomstick. It was a moment suspended in time, a brief respite from the chaos and turmoil of the world outside.

As you gazed out at the rolling hills before you, Draco's hand found yours, his touch gentle and reassuring. But beneath the facade of tranquility, there was an undercurrent of tension, a sense of unease that lingered in the air like a shadow.

It was the best of times, the worst of crimes

You knew Draco was a death eater now, knew he had done bad things and helped bad people but you couldn't bring yourself to leave him. You loved him, and whenever you thought about the bad things he had done, your heart was quick to remind you of all the good times you had together.

All the late night talks, the joking around, the kissing and holding... everything.

But as the miles stretched out before you, you couldn't help but wonder if it was worth it.

I wanted to leave him, I needed a reason "X" marks the spot where we fell apart He poisoned the well, I was lyin' to myself

You fought to held back tears, the two of you were now on the run and now because of him, you were leaving all your friends and family behind. You were a traitor now and it was all his fault.

Draco's grip tightened around the broom handle, his gaze distant as he stared out at the sky ahead. "I knew it from the start," he admitted, his voice tinged with sorrow. "We were cursed."

You were drivin' the getaway car We were flyin', but we'd never get far

You new the order would be after you soon, they knew what Draco had done. You wrapped your arms around him tighter, burying your head into his back as you held onto him, scared of falling.

Ridin' in a getaway car There were sirens in the beat of your heart

And as you flew on into the night, the sirens in the beat of your heart seemed to grow louder, a relentless reminder of the consequences of your actions. You should have known that you'd never leave, that the promise of freedom would come at a steep price, one that you weren't willing to pay if it meant leaving Draco.

So still, you clung to each other, two lost souls adrift in a sea of chaos and uncertainty. For in each other's arms, you found solace and strength, a beacon of hope in a world gone mad.

And as the stars twinkled overhead and the world blurred past, you knew that no matter where the road may lead, you'd never leave him

We were jet-set, Bonnie and Clyde (oh-oh)

Tom Riddle - right where you left me

Help, I'm still at the restaurant Still sitting in a corner I haunt Cross-legged in the dim light They say, "What a sad sight"

Under the soft glow of the restaurant lights, you found yourself seated alone at a corner table, the memories of your past love weighing heavily on your heart. Friends had come and gone, relationships had blossomed and withered away, but you remained rooted in the past, unable to move forward.

Your eyes kept flicking up to the empty chair in front of you, your plate of food going cold as it sat in front of you completely untouched. The workers looked over, eyes filling with sympathy and sadness at the all-familiar face they had seen too many times, brief flashes of the happy couple that had once sat there.

Everybody moved on I, I stayed there Dust collected on my pinned-up hair They expected me to find somewhere Some perspective, but I sat and stared

As you sat there, lost in your thoughts, the echoes of the past danced around you like ghosts in the night. You remembered the first time you had met, the way his smile had lit up the room and warmed your heart. But now, all that remained were distant memories, fragments of a love that had once been.

You couldn't help but wonder if he ever thought about you, if he ever regretted the choices he had made. Did he know that you were still waiting for him, still hoping for a second chance at love? Or had he moved on, leaving you behind like a forgotten relic of the past?

Right where you left me You left me no, oh, you left me no You left me no choice but to stay here forever You left me, you left me no, oh, you left me no You left me no choice but to stay here forever

The restaurant buzzed with life around you, the sounds of laughter and conversation blending together in a cacophony of noise. But amidst the chaos, you felt alone, a solitary figure adrift in a sea of strangers.

And as you sat there, watching the world pass you by, you couldn't help but feel a sense of longing wash over you like a wave crashing against the shore. You longed for the warmth of his embrace, the comfort of his presence, but you knew deep down that he was gone, lost to you forever.

Did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen? Time went on for everybody else, she won't know it

Yet, despite the ache in your heart and the tears in your eyes, you couldn't bring yourself to leave. You were stuck in the past, trapped in a cycle of longing and regret, unable to move forward without him by your side.

But as the night wore on and the restaurant began to empty out, you knew that you couldn't stay there forever. It was time to let go of the past and embrace the future, to find happiness within yourself and move on from the love that had once consumed you.

With a heavy heart and tear-stained cheeks, you rose from your seat and made your way towards the door. And as you stepped out into the cool night air, you made a silent vow to yourself to never look back, to keep moving forward no matter how difficult the journey may be.

If our love died young, I can't bear witness And it's been so long But if you ever think you got it wrong I'm right where you left me

But it was a vow you knew you'd break just for him.

written by @adiraargent

Please do not steal or post anywhere else <3

Requests are open!!!

Bye for now

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echooefrost · 5 months

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TGS MEDIEVAL AU :0

Is this Historically accurate? no. Does that matter? no.

Alright, This is gonna be a lot, so thou shalt be warned

In the Au, Robert is a prince and Lanyon Sr. is the King, they rule over a small kindom somewhere in England - name TBA (so not like real monarchies which rule over entire countries etc.) The premise is basically; The Lanyon's personal/private doctor recently passed away so they call in a new doctor/chemist from Scotland - did you guess? yep, It's Jekyll. Hyde exists before Henry/Edward meets Robert (I haven't worked out the exact logistics about it yet, but I will) Jekyll/Hyde are more Chemists/Alchemists than Doctors but they are both still very good doctors regardless (so they don't really wear the 'plague mask' thing) I aged only Jekyll, Hyde and Lanyon down to about their early 20's so it matches around the original timing of when J&H met Robert in TGS. There are other smaller reasons but they aren't to important, all you need to know is that it doesn't really change anything

Lanyon is betrothed to Everly from a neighbouring kingdom -this is where it differs slightly from TGS, it's a political marriage not a lavender marriage. Neither Robert nor Everly are happy about this however, they are both only children in royalty so they don't really have an option.

Hyde is essentially the local gremlin that has in-built eyebags and a sense to sell you things not very discreetly that he probably shouldn't be selling. His Cape is comedically large and has a very extensive collection of illegal powders, drugs, and other nefarious items. Almost everybody knows Hyde becasue at some point they have all needed some rare item from him. - this is where the blackfog comes in (yes it exists!) the Blackfog is basically the same but Hyde really wants to go so he can buy/sell lots of items for his little side-business he has going on, however Lanyon Sr. is opposed to it and it's existence because well... illegal.

*Hyde also goes by: The Spirit of [insert Kingdom's name] at night (soooooo original, ik)

Jekyll stays pretty much the same, He really cares about his reputation so he can move up on the social ladder and create his own Science business at some point, and I mean he doesn't want to make a fool of himself in front of the King of all people, that wouldn't be a very good look, would it?

In this universe, The lodgers are all citizens of the small kingdom and they all sort of have different occupations/roles in the town. They can't all be scientists, but do not fear because they still as equally crazy and chaotic as before. Rachel is the Lanyon's personal chef but she also helps run the bakery in town with Mr. Doddle. Jasper looks after most of the animals and creatures in the kingdom, he used to be a farmer but moved to get away from home. I am yet to work out how Jekyll and Jaspers relationship dynamic stays the same in this universe but I will figure something out.

There is A LOT of Jekyon and Lanyde going on here, so I've got something for everyone, (there may or may not be a masquerade at some point...) and it's not just centred around romance, there is lots of other plot stuff happening so do not fear my ace/aro friends (or just people who aren't a fan of romance)!

That's most of it for now... I'll draw some more stuff at some point and give some extra details, If you have any questions please ask (my asks are open) I'd love to hear from you all!!! Don't be afraid to offer any suggestions or other criticisms. Maybe I'll write a fanfic one day who knows, we will see.

Thanks for listening to my rant (*^▽^*)

*Footnote - I don't think you guys realise how hard it was to make hyde not look like either A.) a fucking elf or B.) Link. Did I succeed? not sure.

#the glass scientists #tgs #The glass Scientists au #tgs au #tgs medieval au #Echo's au's

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bless-my-demons · 10 months

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Redamancy: Chapter Eight

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: None except for like one cuss word

Notes: Hot off the press - I just spent my day packing my house up to move tomorrow and I’m up past midnight to get this out... You guys have been so freaking supportive and I’m excited for this story to pick up!

Word Count: 3158

Series Masterlist

• March 11th, 2005 • Forks High School •

Reader

“Emotions.” Jasper says by way of greeting, placing his backpack on the picnic table that no doubtibly contains his art supplies.

“Everyone has them, yes?” I reply, my forehead wrinkling in confusion at his peculiar single-word statement.

“I can control them.” He answers, visibly nervous as if he were afraid he just opened a can of worms.

I watch him pull out his well-worn sketchbook and pencils as I decide how to respond to this new bit of information.

“Say something, doll.” Jasper looks almost pleading, worry setting in on his face.

“How does it work?” I question him, I’m in shock that he volunteered such important information in the middle of a school day at lunch as if it were a typical topic to talk about.

“Well, it started off as just being able to sense the emotions of humans and vampires in my vicinity,” he lets out a sigh as he begins shading whatever it is he’s working on. “Then I quickly figured out I can influence them. I can either enhance what someone is already feeling, take away their emotions altogether, or replace them entirely and give them something completely different.”

“W-wow,” I stutter, “that’s honestly impressive.” I raise my eyebrows as his eyes meet mine.

“I can also do small things since I’ve had time to hone my power, like it’s easy to find people I’m familiar with in a crowded area, within a reasonable distance. As long as I can get to know the person, orient myself with their emotions, it’s quite easy.” He glances down at his drawing as he finishes his explanation.

“That has to be rough, feeling everything everyone else is feeling all the time. You can turn it off though, right?” I muse out loud, I can’t imagine having a power that doesn’t come with an ‘off’ switch.

“Unfortunately I can’t, my family is usually pretty good at regulating the intensity of their emotions when we’re gathered at home. At school though… Sitting out here alone with you during lunch is a welcome reprieve.” Jasper turns back to his sketch as he admits that last tidbit of information.

“Do any of your other siblings have super powers like you?” I tease him, not ready to dive into that nugget of information about how spending time with me makes him feel.

“Rosalie and Emmett don’t, neither do Carlisle and Esme. Unless you want to count the staggeringly strong self-control my adoptive father possesses.” Jasper pauses, “Alice can see the future, subjectively though - she has to be searching for that person’s intent and as long as they make a decision, she can see it and the immediate effects. Edward on the other hand, can-“ but he’s interrupted by the bell signaling the end of the lunch period.

“You’re not off the hook now that you’ve enlightened me, I expect to finish this conversation.” I tell him as I stand and meet him on the sidewalk leading towards the school building.

“I would never leave business unfinished with a lady.” He says rather cheekily, trying to get a rise from me, but all it earns him is a huff of a laugh as we walk in a comfortable silence.

“Thank you for sharing that information with me, I promise not to tell anyone.” I vow soberly, meeting his eyes as we stand outside of my next class.

“I was never worried.” Jasper replies, backing away as students finish milling about in the hallway. “See you in History, darlin’.”

I could feel his eyes on me as I stood in front of my open locker, quickly shuffling through the books I needed for my last class of the day. It’s almost like his gaze seemed to burn me alive as I felt it travel across my skin, the hair on the back of my neck rose due to my heightened state of awareness I had towards this gorgeous man. Does he know the effect he has? Is he even aware that I am utterly at his mercy? I hate to fall in line with all the other girls that must throw themselves at his feet, most of them much prettier than I, so why me? Why does he want to take me on a date?

I glance over my shoulder in the direction I know his own locker is in and sure enough, liquid gold is locked onto its target. A steady unwavering gaze stares back, so solid and intense that it constricts my chest for a moment with the pure force of it.

I turn back to my locker and grab a pen before slamming the door shut, the warning bell signaling one minute before everyone still occupying the hallway is tardy. As I turn to hurry my way to History, Jasper has made his way to stand right behind me.

“Do you like baseball?” He blurts out quickly, as if to not lose his nerve.

“It’s probably the only sport I understand, so yeah. Why?” I counter, tilting my head in question.

“My family and I were thinking of playing a game Sunday. Would you like to tag along and spectate? Bella Swan will be there, I’m sure she would love your company.” Jasper tacked on the last part as if I needed more reason to go than just spending time with him.

“As if I could say no to you and your family.” I tell him with a smile.

“Good, so you’ll want to meet them tomorrow?” He asks with more confidence than the last request, slowly taking steps backwards down the empty hall and I gravitate with him.

My mind blanks, not prepared to be sprung with such a big step in… whatever is happening between us. First he tells me he wants to take me out on a date, now I’m meeting his family? Is this some lucky alternate universe where the insanely attractive boy falls for the incredibly average girl?

No-no way, friends bring their friends over to meet their entire family before a family outing, right?

“I-I-uh-“

“Noon tomorrow, they’ll love you.” Disappearing around the corner of the hallway with a smirk in place, probably because I was gaping at him in the middle of an empty hall.

I glance around - an empty hallway! I’m late for class! I can’t even be mad, Jasper Hale has effectively monopolized my weekend and I’m more than happy about it.

• March 11th, 2005 • Home •

Reader

“Hey, mom?” I ask, poking my head in her open bedroom door.

“Yes, sweetheart?” Putting down the book she was reading and pushing up her reading glasses, my mother sits up in bed to give me her full attention.

“So,” I take a seat at the end of her bed, “Jasper Hale invited me to his house tomorrow, to have dinner with his family and just hang out I guess.”

“Oh?” My mother sounds intrigued, eyebrows raising. “A date with a cute boy?”

“Not a date!” I immediately correct her, “it’s just dinner, or whatever.”

She laughs as I pick at her bedspread. “Honey, of course you can go, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Well…”

“Well, what?” She questions.

“He also asked if I wanted to play baseball Sunday with his fa-“

“You? Play baseball?” She blurts out, incredulously.

“Mom!” I draw out the word. “He’s invited me to hang out with his family this weekend - you’ll be cool, right? When he picks me up? No interrogating?”

“Me? Interrogate the cute boy stealing my daughter for a weekend? I wouldn’t dream of embarrassing you.” She teases me with a wink.

I stand and begin to leave, “You are insufferable, woman.”

“I love you, sweetheart!” She yells after me as I round the corner to my room. Flopping onto my bed with a smile, I’m both giddy and equally nervous for the next two days.

• March 12th, 2005 • Cullen Residence •

Reader

“This is my adoptive father Carlisle and his wife Esme.” Gesturing to the two beautiful adults patiently waiting in the foyer as we walk in their home.

Thankfully my mom was at work when Jasper picked me up, giving me another day to prepare myself for the potential train wreck of them meeting tomorrow.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Cullen.” I give them a smile as I shake their hands.

“Trust me dear, the pleasure is all ours!” Esme responds excitedly, her smile wide and beaming.

“The others are in the living room, beware of what you’re throwing her into.” Carlisle warns Jasper with a smile.

Throwing me into? I glance up at Jasper with my brows furrowed, a little concerned.

“C’mon, I’ll protect you.” He jokes with me, I must be missing the punchline.

As he leads me to the living room in his house, I gape at the beautiful artwork spaced throughout. “This is gorgeous, Jasper.”

“Esme is pleased you like it.”

Not having heard his mom speak, I turn from where I was ogling a painting that appeared to be ancient. “But she-“

“Can hear you from her study and I can feel her emotions, remember?” He winks at me, show off.

Finally we walk into the space where his siblings are and I realize what Carlisle meant: Mario Kart.

Alice and Emmett are sitting on the edge of the couch, deep in concentration while Rosalie seems bored from her perch in the corner by her significant other.

“You’re fucking cheating!” Emmett bellows, frantically mashing buttons on his controller.

“It’s not cheating if you’re playing someone that sucks.” Alice taunts him, a wicked grin on her face.

“You can see the future Alice, cut him some slack.” Jasper chides his sister as he leads me to an empty section of the couch.

My eyes widen in amusement as I observe the small dark haired girl, “That’s right! You can-“

“See everything I try to do!” Emmett yells, frustration setting in as his character is hit with a shell.

It’s almost laughable, Emmett’s character Bowser and Alice as Princess Peach. I sit down next to Jasper, a few inches between us as I cross my legs and he lays an arm behind me on the back of the couch. I try to keep my breathing even as I sit here, but the excitement to be spending time with him is almost overwhelming.

I watch as Princess Peach zaps the other players into miniature size and Rose reminds Emmett not to throw yet another remote at the ground, when Jasper leans in close.

“Want a tour of the house?” He asks in a whisper, creating goosebumps down my arms.

“Yes.” I respond, probably sounding breathless, but he’s standing and offering his hand before I have the chance to feel embarrassed.

“And this is my room.” His tour coming to an almost close, since I’m still patiently waiting for a peak at all their cars.

I walk in the doorway he pointed to, stopping just inside. My eyes were immediately drawn to the bookshelves lining the wall opposite of the floor-to-ceiling windows that seemed to be a theme throughout the house. His room was much darker than all the others, warm and inviting with the shades of black and dark wood tones. Stepping closer and skirting the immaculately made king size bed, my eyes close in on some familiar titles on the shelves.

“I always see you reading and since I have quite a bit of free time, I thought I’d pick up a few.”

I turn to look at him with my mouth parted in surprise at his thoughtfulness, his hands are clasped behind his back like he’s bashful for getting found out.

“Jasper-“ but he interrupts me.

“The garage is next.” I watch him turn on his heel and disappear down the hallway.

I look down and brush my fingers on his black comforter as I smile to myself before following him, so Jasper Hale isn’t immune to his own feelings - he just doesn’t like to show them.

Walking into the garage, my eyes skip over the beautiful cars and land on a sleek little thing in the back. A Ducati 848 to be exact, it draws me in like a magnet. Immediately I knew it had to belong to Jasper, no one else seemed like the type. Rose had her red convertible, Emmett had his Jeep, and Edward had his mom-car. Alice and Esme didn’t bother with vehicles and Carlisle had a reasonable, albeit expensive, commuter.

“Wow,” my voice quiet as my fingers brushed the gas tank, “I’m impressed, Hale.”

“You know bikes?” Jasper asks with a hint of curiosity.

“Not really, but I know enough to know that this Ducati is basically a rocket and that it must’ve cost you a pretty penny.” I replied, eyes still glued to the beautiful machinery. “Why didn’t you tell me you drove a motorcycle?”

“Not many parents let their ‘teenager’ drive death traps around.”

“Touché.” I pause, “Take me for a ride?” Swinging my leg over to straddle the beast, I lean over the tank and glance at Jasper.

I know I’ve successfully distracted him by the amount of time it takes for him to respond. Grinning, I sit back and look at him expectantly.

“Absolutely not, darlin’. No way I’m risking-“

“You have safety gear, don’t you?” I tease him as I get off and walk behind him to snag the helmet placed on the counter along the back wall.

Jasper groans and tilts his head back in mock-frustration as he fishes the keys from his pocket. I squeal as I pull the helmet on and hop excitedly towards the bike.

“You’re wearing my protective gear or no deal, sweetheart.” He lays down the law as he stalks over to a cabinet, retrieving a thick coat and gloves.

I almost protest, but he’s pulling the jacket over my arms and zipping it up my chest leaving me breathless before I know what’s happening. Even with the helmet covering my face, I’m sure he senses the heat in my cheeks as he finishes checking me over.

“You sure about this?” Jasper asks, finding my eyes under the visor with his supernatural vision.

“Are you sure about this?” I counter, the unease floating around is practically choking me in this enclosed space before it vanishes in a snap.

He flips up my visor, “Riding with someone requires trust-“

“I trust you, Jasper Hale. Completely and without any reservations or doubt in your abilities to keep me safe.” I swear my words stunned him, his mouth parted slightly as I blurted the confession. As if he realized the doubt that was flowing earlier was from him and not me.

“You are…”, he mutters his response low enough that I can’t hear as he swings a leg over the motorcycle and turns to me seriously. “Number one rule, don’t let go of me. Lean with me on turns and stay tucked in. If you need to stop, tap on my chest. Any questions, doll?” Jasper asks.

“Where are we going?” I climb on behind him and scoot close enough to wrap my arms around his waist lightly, this is the first opportunity I’ve had to be this close to him and it’s amazing. I let out a small gasp when he grabs the backs of both knees to tug me closer, bracketing my hips around his to tuck me in close. He then grabs my arms and places them over his chest, the side of my helmeted head coming to rest on his large back.

“You’ll just have to wait and see, ready?” I feel a teasing chuckle rumble in his chest, so I simply nod, excitement tingling all over from where my body touches his.

The Ducati roars to life in the enclosed space and I feel it lean to the right as Jasper taps the garage door button on the wall to open our exit. My arms squeeze him a little tighter as we launch forward down the driveway, I’m tempted to wave to Esme smiling from the porch, but I decide against it remembering his number one rule of not letting go.

This is single-handedly the best idea I’ve ever had.

Jasper

This girl will be the death of me, I know it for certain.

She could ask me to bring her the moon and I would have it in her hands in a heartbeat. Taking her out on my motorcycle? Easy in theory, extremely difficult in practice. I’ve never felt as I do right now with her arms around me, her completely pressed against my back and squeezing me at every jolt and turn I make.

Heaven and Hell, having my greatest temptation in such close proximity.

She trusts me. Completely and without doubt - her fucking words. I’m positively speechless, I’ve never had someone to myself that trusted me so wholly without needing any kind of explanation or-or proof-

And her leaning over my bike in the garage? I nearly swerve us right off the road thinking about the arch in her back, the way her chest pressed against the tank, her toes barely able to touch the ground… it took nearly every ounce of control to remain rooted while she was seated atop my motorcycle.

My only regret is not showing her the garage sooner, that image of her will forever be seared into my mind. On second thought, I’m sure my mental images were extremely loud and clear in the garage - it’s a mystery how Edward can manage to be around the couples in our family. For me at least, the emotions get too much sometimes and I need breaks.

I’ve noticed that I’ve needed them less and less since Y/n literally slammed her way into my life - breaks from everyone else that is. She not only elicits a physical reaction that no one else has ever managed to coax out of me, but she has also become a mental safe-haven. Being around her energy is as easy and mindless as breathing, if only I could breathe around her without inhaling molten lava. Everything about her completely consumes me, tears me apart and builds me back up, unmakes and makes me over and over, infinite bliss and unending torture. My singer, her blood is a symphony and I am her rapt audience hanging on to every beautiful note and praying for an encore.

My singer.

The revelation clangs through my soul and grants my body with a new purpose; her. She is mine to protect, from this day onward. My left hand reaches up to anchor myself where Y/n’s hands rest on my chest, her arms not quite long enough for her fingers to meet in the middle. I smile to myself, maybe I can allow myself this one bit of happiness, to let her in.

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